"He's my friend . . ."
"So was I."

"Tony," Cap replied sternly and formerly, as he came round the couch to face Tony. 

Stark refused to lift his head, holding his gaze directly forwards, forcefully ignoring Rogers' eyes. He didn't respond, as he didn't feel the need to - the amount of emotion that came barreling down upon him in those few moments blinded him, and he felt like a deer in the headlights. 

Just as he thought his life couldn't possibly get worse, Steve Rogers came strolling into Clint's miniature living room and plopped down on the couch adjacent to Tony. Great.

Instinctively, his head fell into his hands and he let out a pained sigh in attempt to cut the awkward silence. "Fancy seeing you here," Stark finally managed, his voice dull, sounding as uninterested as he could.

"I'm sorry to hear about the kid," Cap spoke surprisingly softly, ignoring Tony's witty comment. 

Stark cringed at Steve squinting his eyes at him as they locked gazes. A pang of hurt coursed through his veins at the mention of Parker's death. It hurt enough already, why did Rogers feel the need to bring it up again?

"Yeah, thanks. The apology is deeply appreciated," he fired back, his voice bitter with sarcasm. 

Steve narrowed his piercing blue eyes again, and Stark returned the gesture. Although, there was something very different about Steve now. His eyes were still as powerful as he remembered, but there was something about the way he moved, the way he spoke, that was enough to send shivers of fear down Stark's spine. 

It was plain stupid - Tony had no reason to be afraid of this man, even after the way they left things. Perhaps . . . perhaps Stark refused to accept the fact that he should still be mad at Cap, but the current situation was making it difficult. The truth, he thought, was that his heart was still looking for the warmth that it needed, the healing that was required to mend its scars and tears. 

Not that Steve was the answer to that, of course. Honestly, he would have preferred anyone but Cap right now. 

"I'm not here to fight, Tony," he warned. 

"Damn it, I was hoping that you were. You know, just for old times sake."

The soldier sighed in frustration, running a hand through his blonde hair, that was tousled and messy. What shocked Tony, was that he remained silent. 

After a rather unintentional awkward pause, Tony spoke up, forcing the words up his throat. "I want to be mad, you know," he started. "But you're making it difficult." Tony shifted his weight as he groaned at the ache in his side. His gaze lifted to find that Steve was staring at the ground, his hands resting on his knees. "Under normal circumstances," he picked up again. "I'd be pissed. Annoyed. Frustrated. But right now? Pft. I've got bigger things to worry about than our little fall-out.

"We lost. We lost bad. We all failed miserably. Do I miss the kid?" He paused, his voice catching in his throat. I'm sorry, Peter's voice whispered inside his brain. "Y-yes . . . I do. Do I miss Pepper? God yes. Jesus Steve, I should be dead. I wish I was. I don't want to live with these failures on my shoulders, they do nothing but hold me back with fear. They restrain me, they tie my hands in a knot and hurl me off a cliff."

With a sudden strange surge of confidence, he shot up and pointed his finger sharply at Steve, which got his full attention. "But god dammit, I will do everything in my goddamn power to make sure that filthy son of a b**h rots in hell." His breathing was heavy, and anger coursed through his veins, feeding his body with fire. The sweet taste of boiling, fuming hatred blinded him, and he was seeing red. He swore he could see a twist of shock in Steve's glistening eyes as the super-soldier sat back against the chair as Stark hissed in his face. He had no clue why a sudden jolt of anger had jerked through him, but he did nothing to fight it, and he let it consume him.

"So no, I'm not here to fight either," he seethed. "But I will help you Rogers, because I want to do what's right. I will fix this screwy goddamn mess with the remains of this goddamn team, and I . . . I will . . ." He paused to breathe, suddenly at a loss for words. He panicked, his mind derailing from its train of thought as he drew a sudden blank. He didn't know where he was going with this anymore. His panting continued as his eyes were glued to the ground, unable to meet Cap's gaze after his outburst.

What was he doing? He wasn't mad at Steve. He had no right to be snapping at him, no matter what note they left off on, no matter how bad things were between them. This wasn't his fight. It was theirs. It was both of theirs. They both had reasons to strive for vengeance. Jesus, I'm so goddamn selfish. 

His ego had thought he was the only one who had suffered in this defeat, and he was so blinded by his own pain that he failed to remember that there were other people who had lost worse then he had. He truly was a selfish, heartless man. 

He forced his shoulders to relax and he took another breath, but his voice was shaky and kept getting caught in his throat as he tried to speak. He felt like a PMSing teenager and he hated it. 

He fell back onto the couch with a thud, the cushion bouncing and squeaking beneath him. His head fell back and his hands covered his face as he tried to sort through his thoughts. What the hell has happened to me?

For a moment he forgot that Steve was even here, as he was too caught up in trying to understand his disheveled brain. 

"I'm sorry," Rogers suddenly piped up, his voice cautious, as if he wasn't sure if he should interrupt the billionaire at the moment. 

Tony scoffed into his hands and shook his head back and forth against the back of the couch. "What the hell do you have to be sorry for, Rogers? None of my personal problems are your fault. It's all my fault, as per usual. This is my mess to clean up, no need to get your hands dirty."

"No," he fired back instantly. Tony slowly sat up straight again, eyeing Cap warily. "I meant that I was sorry for coming back too soon. I know you're dazed and confused. I've done nothing but irritate you, and I respect that you need some time to yourself." 

That earned another amused huff from Tony. However, he couldn't think of anything to say back to the captain's words, so he remained silent as he continued.

"Believe me when I say I had the best intentions by showing up. Sure, Nat wanted me down here to form a plan and see what you knew, but if I'm being honest with myself . . . I came here in hopes that I would be considered a friend to you, again, and that in doing so you would allow me to help you."

"You really do confuse me, Rogers."

"I came to help you, Tony." 

"Don't waste your time."

"Tony-"

"No, Rogers," he cut him off abruptly. "This is where you need to understand that there is no, 'helping me,'" he mocked, air-quoting the last part. "How are you supposed to help me, when I can't even begin to help myself? Huh? Answer me that."

"Wrong again, Stark," Steve fired back with a stern glare, his voice becoming deep and serious as he stood up straight. "I don't want to fix you emotionally. I'm not a therapist. I want to help you find answers. And whether that huge head of yours chooses to believes it or not, this isn't just your fight, and none of this is all just 'your fault.' We're all to blame, every last one of us. And if you're not ready to forget our troubled past, then so be it. Our friendship was broken Tony, and it still is. But that doesn't mean it's gone forever. I'm willing to start again, to have a second shot; But a friendship is a two-person effort." He paused momentarily, feeding off of Tony's silence. "Either way - I'm going to attempt to fix this. Your role in that is entirely up to you. When it comes down to it, in the end, it doesn't matter to me if you're fighting as a friend or simply as an ally."

With that, Rogers began to walk away, but paused just as he was about to turn the corner. "And just so you know," he spoke over his shoulder. "Bucky's dead, if that makes you feel any better about yourself." Then, he was gone. 

To say that Tony was offended would have been an understatement. 

Sure, he was still holding on to that anger. 

Sure, he still had harsh feelings towards the psycho assassin. 

Sure, he was still upset. 

But to assume that he wished death upon someone out of spite and guilt for his own personal pain was just low, even for Tony. He may be annoying, and even a teensy bit narcissistic, but he was not that malignant!

He starting to get so worked up again, that he forgot everything Steve had said previously. How could he think that I was THAT ignorant and crude that I would be HAPPY in someone's death?!

Then the image of that video from 1992 flashed briefly across his mind, but it was enough to sting his insides and make his fists clench. 

Dammit, he was doing it again! 

"What's WRONG WITH MY HEAD?!" he screamed as his eyes began to swell. His heart was pounding from the emotional exhaustion, and the pain from his wounds and screaming headache that he thought he'd managed to get rid of began to howl at him again, aiding his brain in mentally (and now physically) destroying him, piece by piece, little by little. 

He clawed at his face like a mad man, his breathing erratic and uneven as he tried to claw himself out of his own mind. "No, stop it, STOP IT!" he thrashed about on the couch, dizzy and frantic, and his sore, worn-down body hissed in protest as he squirmed. 

"I just wanted to be like you."

"My greatest creation . . . is you." 

No, please stop, he began to plead in his head. Please God, make it stop. 

"You're going to kill yourself, Tony."

"Please, God, make it stop, make it stop I'm begging you," he wailed quietly to himself as he curled into a ball on Barton's couch, tears falling from his face as he drowned in his panic attack. 

"I hope they remember you . . ."

They all thundered around in his head, jolting through every inch of his body till it seemed like the voices were screaming at him from all directions. But at the center of it all, was Thanos. The being that made his life a living hell. 

"You could've saved us . . ."

"Make it . . . go away," he whispered to himself, crying fully now as his chestnut eyes closed tightly and his jaw clenched. 

" . . . why didn't you do more . . .?"

Why didn't you do more. Why didn't you do more. 

He shivered, a sudden sense of dread and cold washing over him. Why didn't you do more. You could've saved us. 

You could've saved us. You could've saved us. 

It was voices, not just the voice in his head, they were familiar. 

You could've saved us Tony, why didn't you do more? He heard Pepper, and Parker, and Happy, and Steve, and just about everyone else who had ever meant anything to Tony. 

You could've saved us, why didn't you do more?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony sat alone outside of Barton's farm, a sizzling fire burning slowly against the peacefulness of the sunset. Some sort of fleece blanket was tossed lightly around his shoulders, shielding his body from the cold of the farm, and the breeze that tugged through the trees and combed through Tony's dark, brown hair. 

It was calming out here, and for once Tony was happy to be alone again, so that he could hear his thoughts in serenity and breathe in his surroundings. 

He felt alive, he felt full and happy, a feeling that lingered in his body and kept his heart warm. Here, he had no worries or concerns; no deadlines or battles to fight. Here, he could be himself, and he could be free. 

Free of all the stresses of his world, free of all the pressures on his shoulders. 

Free of reality, for a moment. 

Perhaps that was just what he needed, as he knew he had a long road ahead of him - he could tell from the feeling deep in his gut, that something big was yet to come. 

This wasn't the end of his story, not yet. 

There was still the endgame, the final showdown that would ultimately end it all. Tony knew what awaited him, which was strange because, his entire life he felt as though he had been lost. Now, though, he could realize what was destined for him, and it didn't frighten him, not anymore.

But for now, he could wait. 

He allowed his eyes to close softly as another breeze sang through the treetops, whispering down to the billionaire, telling him what he had to do. 

I know, he thought. This will be my end, the fulfilling conclusion to my story. 

He'd be missed, and he was aware of it. He'd be mourned, and he knew it. But only time would tell how much longer he had here, in this peace. 

But he could wait, just for a little longer. He was Iron Man, after all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TADA!!!! 

HOORAY!!!

I UPDATED! I'M ALIVE! I'M TOTALLY THE WORST PERSON EVER FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I UPDATED FOR YOU GUYS!

Well, what can I say? I'm terrible with consistency. I have to be IN THE MOOD to write, okay? But hey, I did update!

Anyways, for those of you who were wondering, this was the end of the three-part series, "Reunion." Yes, I had originally planned to continue this, but i started this mini-series before the Endgame Trailer aired and obviously things didn't happen they way they happened here, so i decided to end it now, with a little "open ending," ehehehe. 

Anyhow, i hope you guys enjoyed and I hope to be updating again, sometime soon, but I make no promises since I'm terrible at those, ha. 

See you wonderful people later!!

~BurningEmber