Battlefield ｡ Tony Stark

12 - GOODBYES

A few days later Tony Stark's short stay in the city of angels came to an abrupt ending. The sun was back out, shining down on our heads as we waited on the curb of his street. The sun was setting, orange colours painted in the sky. I kept tugging at my sleeve, not really sure what to do or say around him now. He was leaving and I wasn't sure I would ever see him again. The likelihood of bumping into the man that would inherit one of the biggest companies in the world was thin. In my bones I knew this farewell would be our last. Who was I to him now? I was nothing more than a girl he once knew who partied too much to give her some sense of peace and contempt in a world full of darkness. I would become a memory, nothing more and nothing less. And in all honestly, I liked that theory.

"Can I show you something, just quickly?" Tony asked quietly. His black town car was parked on the street already, waiting to take him away. Pepper and Rhodey were already waiting too, both making the journey across the country with their friend. Tony hadn't asked me to join him and I would have declined anyway.

Lucy gave a little noise from the back of her throat, letting me know it was alright. She had made the short drive to Tony's loft with me, knowing I didn't want to be alone today. My head was nodding as he led me back inside the building and without question, I followed him all the way to the rooftop where we could see the stretch of downtown and the warm setting sun. Wind blew my hair across my face but it was nice seeing the last minutes of the day with him, our final goodbye.

"In your mind, the world is painted in darkness." Tony started slowly. "That fear that courses through your veins and the need to break free from simple life, that will kill you."

I was twirling around to face him, narrowing my eyes at him. He looked terrible, his hair greasy and his skin looking rather pale. He had found another bottle of expensive whiskey stashed somewhere in his bedroom and downed the whole thing, I could smell it on him. Losing his parents was taking its toll on him and I wasn't the person to bring him back from it. He had to do that himself. But right now, with the story of us rushing to that finish line, he decided to make this about me. "I know my own limits." I shot back at him, not liking the poke at my fears and insecurities.

Tony shook his head, naturally putting doubt in my head. "I don't know if you've ever really thought about your addiction. But in all honestly, I have. This thing, this act, it has to end some day. You either wake up and turn your life around, Tilly, or well, that darkness takes hold forever. I don't want that for you."

Tears dusted my eyes and I crossed my arms over my chest, my mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. "You barely know me." I choked out eventually.

"I think I do though," Tony started, small steps decreasing the space behind us. His hands grazed my shoulders, turning me towards the sunset. The clouds looked like cotton candy, the sky growing darker with each passing second. "Because I think we are a lot more alike than we realise."

The words were like a knife to my stomach, because deep down, I knew he was right. A part of me wanted to tell him that he was going to move on from this tragic event, that one day, maybe, he could become a better man than his father had been to him. But in all honestly, I was worried he wouldn't come back from this. But maybe that wasn't my problem, and maybe I wasn't his problem either now.

We stood on that rooftop, watching the sun dip down until stars dotted the sky. The wind was growing chilly, but we stood there for about twenty minutes, not talking. "I guess this is goodbye." I spoke up randomly, knowing this had to come to end.

"I suppose so," Tony nodded, his hand slipped into mine like it was so natural. I blinked down, seeing our hands linked together and realised I was actually going to miss him. The only boy that ever wanted to save me from myself. "I think you should see your mother. Maybe try and mend things that might be broken."

My head nodded, knowing he was talking about the fate of his own parents. He didn't have to say that I should go see her, to try and make things better just incase, one day, she left and I didn't get the chance. Without saying anything, I turned to face him. My tongue slid along my lips, wetting them. If this was our goodbye, I wanted my chance to taste him. A hand weaved through my short hair and he was pulling me closer. Our lips brushed, softly and perfectly. Everything stopped, or maybe, they sped up. All I could think about was how his lips were so warm and soft and how he tasted like cinnamon. When he finally pulled back, he gave me that coy smirk. "Have a good life, Tilda."

Then he was turning away, our ending finally upon us.

***

I visited my mother the next day, feeling a little lost somehow. Seeing the house I had grown up in again so soon, put a smile on my lips. My mother was surprised to see me, drawing me into her arms when I slammed the front door shut. The house was tidy now, everything put back together. She smelt of lavender soap and that warmed my heart. She was fiddling around with the kettle, assuring me I needed coffee when I spotted the small pile of unopened mail sitting on the dining table. I picked up the letters, shuffling through them until my eyes took in a letter addressed to me. "Mum, when did this arrive?" I held up the letter for her to see, seeing a familiar logo in the corner.

My mother turned, shaking her head. "Yesterday, I think. I haven't gotten the time to shift through the bills and whatnot. Why, dear?"

"It's addressed for me, actually. It's from Stark Industries." I spoke up, my hands shaking lightly as I flipped it around, ripping open the back and tearing the white paper out. I felt my mother hovering over my shoulder, suddenly too curious about the letter to worry about my caffeine levels right now.

The words blurred, tears dotting my eyes as I read the letter twice in my head. My mother made a little sound in the back on her throat, her hand going to her chest. "Oh, dear."

I was shaking my head lightly, trying not to laugh. Slamming the letter down on the table, I turned to my mother trying to hide the smile from my lips. "He's such an idiot, mum."

"Tony?" She questioned quietly. "You think he paid for your rehab? Why would he do that? Why would Stark Industries just pay for you to go to rehab? That's a lot of money."

Thoughts were rushing through my head too quickly but I managed to laugh again. "I know he did, mum. He cared too much about me and I don't really know why. I think he felt this was the way to help me, without actually having to help personally."

I stared back down at the letter. "He's trying to save me." I added in after a moment, thinking back to the conversation on the rooftop and how he had mentioned my addiction. He might not have been able to help himself yet, but he was willing to pay for me to wake up to reality and get better.

With this letter, maybe that afternoon on the rooftop wasn't our goodbye. That just maybe, our story wasn't finished just yet, that maybe, it was just beginning.