Beating Hearts

Why We Fight

Needless to say, these were not normal circumstances.

Tony frowned, his fingers hovering for a moment above the wires and buttons he was fiddling with. His exhaustion finally got the better of him and he leaned back in his chair, the supports creaking under the weight. Tony's sigh was heavy and revealed his pain and bitterness for the world to see. The world being an empty cabin with only his AI and his thoughts to keep him company.

Tony had done a lot of dangerous things in his lifetime, most of which he regretted. But now, he did one of the most perilous things he could do- he thought.

He let his mind wander.

To how he didn't want to keep fighting battles. How he didn't want kids to fight them either, as Captain America as that statement sounded. How he vehemently loathed the fact that he couldn't keep them from fighting, and the best he could do was jump into the fray(stopping fight with more fighting- great job).

He pondered how his days back in college had been, or even before that. After. His friendships with Rhodey and Pepper and how long they'd survived; how much they'd endured.

Tony wondered about what he would have been, had he not had a father like Howard Stark, not had the legacy dumped upon him after that fateful car crash, not turned to drinking and partying and useless flings to cope. Had he not gone through Afghanistan. Had he not broken free, creating Iron Man, Mark I.

What would have happened if all of that, and everything that followed were wiped from his history, leaving him a blank slate, right where he was today?

It didn't matter, not really, but Tony still drifted to those ideas, lingered over his doubts. His fear remained, just as firmly rooted in him as the hunk of high-tech metal in his chest.

In any case, no matter what topic, no matter how shallow or deep Tony allowed himself to go, it was still terrifying, every time he lost himself to the insecurities and scars(mental, emotional and otherwise) that had never fully left him.

Tony thought.

And that brought him back 'round to this camp, with this cabin, and these kids. He could relate to them, some more than others, but there was one boy specifically who was just so not-Tony that it intrigued him.

The boy had all but glued himself to Tony once they'd met. His name was Harley.

Harley was bright and optimistic and cheerful. He was determined and hard-working and passionate about every little thing.

Harley was the one who could barely hold himself back, at the simple mention of his brother's name, from once again spiraling into a husk of what he normally was, a shell of the small, enthusiastic yet not at all naïve boy he should have been.

This Leo that Tony was so similar to...he'd broken this boy, without ever meaning to. Just by being a self sacrificing hero.

Harley still held onto the blueprints from who knew how long ago. Blueprints, for a beacon; lain out under a worn drawing of a flying ship with a bronze dragon as the masthead.

Harley was a good kid, despite the garbage hand he'd been dealt in life, and he moved on from those issues in(relatively) healthy ways, and always remained positive, except for the occasional self-deprecating joke to hide his anguish. 

According to Percy, Leo was most of the things Harley was, too.

So how could Leo be anything like Tony?

Tony, the alcoholic.

Tony, the problem child.

Tony, the self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.