Chapter Text
His physical wounds were healing but the interior hurts were still raw. Tony stared at the glass of whiskey in front of him, daring himself to pick it up. He didn't know why he was spending so much time here at the compound. He should go back to California. Maybe look in on the company. Maybe this time Pepper-
Pepper . No, can't go there. Not yet. Not now.
Sometimes Vision floated in and out, not saying much, but when he did, he asked Tony deep questions that had no answer. Fueled by recent events, Vision's attention turned inward, no doubt experiencing certain emotions for the first time. Tony wished he could help but there was no handbook for this.
Damn it. Damn it, Clint! Why did you take Wanda away?
The whiskey was sending out a clear invitation. Rhodey, who was always here and ready to listen, would give him all the time in the world, but he had enough going on in his life. No need to burden him anymore. One he went through the list of his estranged friends, concentrating on their flaws and poor judgment.
All I wanted was to do good, to make things right. To fix the messes we made.
One name was last on the list. I thought we were friends. Maybe not best friends, like me and Rhodey, but damn it, we stood together. How could you do that to me…? The hurt went deep. His fingers curled around the glass. One sip and he would forget, forget the image that had burned into his brain.
If I had known… if he had just given me time to think it through. Would that have helped?
There was a bizarre comfort in knowing that much of the pain he had been carrying around all these years was somebody else's fault. For once, something happened that he had no control over, but there was still something missing. He needed to know more but was afraid to dig, afraid of what other secrets might breakthrough but still, he wanted, no he needed more.
Zemo was in custody, awaiting his initial hearing. Tony just wanted to observe. He didn't even have to be in the room, he could just listen in from a separate location but the Accords wouldn't let him unless they decided they needed his testimony and then there were safeguards and regulations in place. On paper, it was a good idea. You couldn't have someone with extraordinary abilities close to the accused. He or she could easily take over the room and exact justice any way they wanted. He could try to just push his way in, that was more his style but at the moment he didn't have the mental energy. He knew what was going on inside his brain.
He was grieving for his parents all over again. Back when it had happened, the suddenness of it was hard to accept but, he realized that accidents happen, even to men like Howard Stark. Tony could never shake the idea that if he and his dad had just had a little more time, just a few more years, they could have made peace, but he had accepted that it would never happen. Now it was not only fresh again, but it was also different. Before the wreck had been far away, out there. They told him his parents probably died instantly but now it was up close, no longer hidden by distance and time. Time with his father, time he might have had to set things right stolen from him. The rage started to build up inside him again but now there was no one to take it out on.
Was Zemo the only one to blame? Hadn't everyone allowed things to get out of control? Zemo was just more calculated in his approach. Tony and everyone else had allowed themselves to play right into his trap.
He couldn't think about that now. Tony did as he always did, shoved him away in a mental pocket for another time. He could only be angry at one person at a time.
He started to raise the glass when a movement to the side of the room distracted him. It was Rhodey. He wasn't supposed to be out walking unsupervised but Tony stopped trying to talk him down. He was adapting to the exoskeleton but there was still a bit of gimpiness to his walk. He said nothing but stared at the glass in Tony's hand. Tony sat it down hard, causing the amber liquid to slosh about, waiting for his sermon.
"You know I'm here if you want to talk it out, Tony." His friend's quiet demeanor surprised him. Something was up.
"I know." It was then he noticed Rhodey was carrying something. A backpack. "What is this?"
"Got it from the authorities in Germany. They took it from Sargent Barnes." His friend laid his small burden down on the table in front of Tony.
Rhodey's insistence on using Barnes's military rank was a mental trigger but then Rhodey was military. "So what has that to do with me? Burn it."
"Can't. We might need it later. He was carrying around several notebooks, looks like he was keeping a journal. I skimmed through them and I got permission to bring them here. I thought you should see them before they lock them up.
"You think I should peruse the ramblings of a madman? The man who murdered my parents?" His hand went back to the glass.
"Tony, this is me." Rhodey hadn't mastered the art of sitting down gracefully so he leaned himself against the wall instead. "You know I would never suggest something like this unless I thought it important. I would never do anything…"
"I know you wouldn't." Tony cut him off. So this was what was up. He wanted nothing to do with that man, but he trusted Rhodey. He always had and always would. And maybe there would be answers. He needed answers. Why Steve… why? Finally, letting his name free in his mind broke something inside him. The letter kept the door open, but it wasn't enough.
Rhodey pulled himself upright and walked around to Tony and without saying a word removed the glass.
"Some of it's written in Russian so you'll have to use a translator. If you still want a drink afterward, I'll share one with you." His best friend walked out of the room, his steps slow and deliberate, leaving Tony to stare at the object on the table in front of him. He forced himself to open it and pull out four notebooks. Leafing through the pages of the one on top he noticed every inch of every page was written on, some of it crammed in the margins. In some places, the handwriting was neat and clear, in other places scribbled as if the author was trying to get something out before he forgot it. Scattered here and there were unintelligible paragraphs in Russian. He returned to the first page, noting the large print, like that of a young child.
"You better be right about this, Rhodey," Tony muttered under his breath as he began to read.