1964-07-19 - Coming Home
Summary: On his way back to NYC, Tony Stark ruminates over the events that led him to leave in the first place.
Related: None
Theme Song: None

It wasn't Tony's finest moment. Any of it, really. The past couple months were a downward spiral that ended exactly the way he knew it would. 'Another Tony Stark special,' he thought. With a sigh, he leaned back in his seat and watched the sun glint golden off the cloud bank as it sunk toward the horizon. Berlin was hours behind him, and New York hours ahead.

The past few months were a drunken haze, and there had been so many blackouts he barely remembered it. A few things stood out. The Avenger's mansion. He was supposed to help out with that before he up and disappeared. He wondered what Rogers ended up doing with the project. 'Sorry, Cap. I had a very important meltdown to attend to.'

He remembered Carol, and how he balked at a chance for happiness and screwed it up spectacularly by trying to go back to Pepper. What was that about? He knew, though. When things started to go well, it was like a self-destruct button popped up out of nowhere begging to be pushed. Happiness was a precarious precipice and he couldn't take the vertigo. Better to jump than anticipate the fall.

Tony swirled the scotch in his glass and took another sip. He wasn't going to stop drinking, but he was going to try to stop drinking like that. It had never been that bad before. He couldn't even pinpoint why except it was time. Time to figure out how low he could go. Now that he knew, he was all about moderation. Only one bender a month. No, week. Whatever, he wasn't going to black out all the time from now on.

The temptation to leave New York for Malibu was strong, but in the end, New York was where all his toys were. If he lost himself in his work, maybe he'd live down the messes he'd made. They'd forget or move on to some other problem. 'I'm a problem. Yeah, not going to act surprised about that.' He took another sip of his scotch and closed his eyes as he savored the burn.

His eyes remained closed. A little rest would do him good. He wanted to arrive bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Sober would be a bonus.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License