The Stark Tower rooftop lounge was dimly lit, the city spread beneath the glass walls like a constellation come to life. Tony sat on the edge of the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the holographic screen hovering before him.
On the display, live footage streamed from a remote facility cloaked by ocean fog the Black Island. In one feed, General Ross paced his cell like a caged animal, shouting at guards who didn't so much as glance at him. Stark's ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives moved with calm efficiency, ignoring Ross's tirades.
Tony sipped his drink slowly, expression unreadable.
"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he muttered under his breath.
With a gesture, he closed the feed. The holograms shifted, displaying files on the rogue Avengers Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda. Each file pulsed with data points: mission reports, psychological evaluations, and old photos that stirred more memories than he wanted to confront.
He sat back, exhaling. He didn't trust them not yet. Especially Rogers. But part of him..... still hoped. Maybe they could fix things. Maybe.
For now, distance was safer. For everyone.
Friday's voice broke the silence.
"Boss, may I ask something?"
Tony leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Shoot."
"Why are you letting them stay at the Compound after what they did to you? Especially Rogers. They hurt you.... badly."
Tony's jaw tightened. He let the silence stretch before answering. "Because people screw up, Friday. Even the ones who wear the brightest colors and wave the biggest flags."
"But why give them a chance?"
He stared into the amber liquid in his glass. "Because if I don't, then what am I doing? Building more walls while the world's burning? I don't have to forgive them yet. Hell, I probably won't for a while. But if I shut them out completely, I'm no better than the mess that broke us apart."
He stood and walked to the window, looking out over the city lights. "Second chances aren't about them earning my approval. They're about me deciding I'm not going to let old scars control me anymore."
There was a brief pause as Friday processed this.
"You're trying to make peace with yourself."
Tony smirked faintly. "You catch on quick, Fri."
"You're a better man than you think, Boss."
That earned a dry chuckle. "Don't let that get around, or my reputation's toast."
The room fell quiet again until Friday's voice returned, softer now.
"Colonel Rhodes has requested to visit tomorrow. Shall I confirm?"
Tony's expression softened at the mention of Rhodey. He finished his drink and set the glass down.
"Yeah. Tell him to bring the good bourbon."
As the city lights reflected in the glass, Tony Stark stood alone guarded but not bitter. Distance, for now, was the right call.
Thursday, Late Morning – Stark Tower Private Lounge
Sunlight streamed into the lounge through the floor-to-ceiling windows, glinting off shelves lined with arc reactors, vintage tech prototypes, and a few questionable mugs ("Best Boss Alive" had a chip in the rim). The city buzzed far below, but up here, the Tower was hushed.
Tony stood barefoot on the polished floor, a half-drunk cup of coffee in one hand, and a file from Black Island's encrypted surveillance in the other.
The footage flickered silently: General Ross, hunched in a minimalist cell lined with quantum dampeners, staring at a wall as if the truth might be painted on it.
"Enjoy retirement," Tony muttered to the screen.
Behind him, the elevator gave a soft *ding.*
"Look who finally escaped the Pentagon," Tony called without turning around. "Honeybear in the flesh."
"Missed you too, Stark." Rhodey stepped into the room in full dress blues, the silver wings and ribbons catching the light. He looked tired, but solid the kind of presence that made even steel seem soft by comparison.
They clasped hands, then pulled into a quick half-hug neither one saying what it meant, but both knowing.
"You look like hell," Rhodey said, eyeing him.
"Aw, thanks. You always know how to make a guy feel pretty."
Rhodey nodded at the still-playing silent footage. "What's that?"
Tony didn't answer immediately. He closed the file and tossed the projection into the air the light collapsed into nothing.
"Just a little beachside retirement video," he said casually. "Turns out Ross prefers island humidity."
"You didn't." Rhodey raised a brow.
Tony looked at him. "He's not dead, if that's what you're asking. Just... off the grid."
Rhodey folded his arms. "Let me guess. Tropical. Armed guards. Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. assets?"
Tony lifted his coffee. "Everyone needs a hobby."
Rhodey gave a slow, deliberate nod. "And the others?"
"Still playing at being ghosts in my former Avengers compound last I checked. Don't worry, Vision's with them."
"Would've been nice if you'd told me they were there in the first place," Rhodey said, the edge in his voice real now.
Tony's grin faded. "I didn't want to dump it on you. You had enough on your plate with D.C. and I figured you'd appreciate plausible deniability."
Rhodey sighed and sat down heavily on one of the lounge chairs. "Well, for what it's worth, yesterday's meeting went a lot smoother without Ross breathing down the room. You really blindsided them. I mean that in a good way."
"Gee, thanks. Maybe I'll write a memoir. *How to Exile a Government Official Without Lifting a Finger.*"
"You joke, but...." Rhodey trailed off, then fixed him with a more serious look. "Tones, why didn't you say anything? You've been carrying this solo again."
Tony sank into the opposite chair, rubbing his temples. "Because I needed to. I needed it done, clean. Quiet. And I couldn't let Peter or the kids near it. Ned's op was already pushing it."
Rhodey leaned forward. "You okay? Really okay?"
Tony hesitated. "I'm..... managing. I don't sleep much. I keep thinking about what comes next, what we'll lose. And how many people I'm responsible for now. Peter. Ned. Harley. Friday. Vision. Karen. Even Wade, the walking migraine in red leather."
Rhodey's eyebrows lifted. "He's still here?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "Deadpool refuses to leave. He claimed the west wing. I think he's converted a lab into a Zen garden. Or a taco shrine. Jury's out."
Rhodey groaned. "We're doomed."
They both laughed, the kind that carried a decade of shared scars.
When the laughter faded, Rhodey let the quiet stretch a beat longer before speaking. "I mean it, Tony. You don't have to do this alone. You've done more than anyone ever asked. And no one, no one gets through this stuff without cracking. You're not perfect, but damn if you haven't shown up every time."
Tony looked down into his mug. "I don't know what I'm doing half the time."
"Welcome to humanity, genius," Rhodey said. "You've got me. Always."
Tony looked up, something raw flickering in his eyes. "That's dangerously sentimental, Rhodey-bear."
"Yeah, well. Get used to it."
Tony chuckled softly, then nodded toward the bar. "You staying for lunch?"
Rhodey leaned back. "Try and stop me."
As the sunlight shifted across the glass, the two men sat in easy silence, side by side one War Machine, one Iron Man both brothers, bruised but still standing.