Shadowplay | Tony Stark

FORTY THREE - 12 HOUR DRIVE

The following night had been the hardest Tony had remembered enduring for a long time. The other side of his bed was empty while Mila slept in Tristan's bed with him, the child being unable to settle unless his mother was by his side.

In fact, he'd been on edge the entire night. It had completely shattered Tony's heart to watch Tristan sit silently on the couch for hours, mindlessly watching cartoons while he kept raising his arm to wipe tears from his face. He didn't cry loudly or make a fuss, but it was clear from his quiet demeanour that he wasn't himself at all.

Tony desperately wanted to change things and while he spent the evening trying to coax Tristan's true self out of him, he was met with constant dead ends. The child remained on the couch with Rocket in his arms, not showing the slightest interest in playing with his toys or heading down to the workshop like he usually did.

In fact, it seemed like Tristan had no interest in Tony at all. He'd become used to being a rock for the boy, his first port of call if he'd fallen over and hurt himself, lost one of his toys or couldn't reach his colouring pencils on the top shelf.

He knew deep down that Tristan loved him, the memories they'd created together being pure evidence of the fact, but the way the child had retreated into his shell and only reached out for the comfort of his mother's embrace felt like a bullet hitting Tony's soul like it would a sheet of glass.

The night seemed long but dawn broke far sooner than Tony would've liked. He'd laid awake staring at the ceiling since midnight, unable to keep his eyes closed and mind relaxed without the sound of Mila's breathing or the grazing of their legs against one another's beneath the sheets.

After an hour of back and forth the night before, Tony had managed to convince Mila to let him drive them back to Chicago, wanting to spend as much time with them as he possibly could, even if it would just add a sense of inevitable dread onto his mind for another twelve hours.

They loaded up the car in silence that morning, Tristan settling into his seat in the back without confrontation. He let Tony buckle him in and gave him the first hint of a smile when he picked Rocket up from the floor after the toddler accidentally dropped him, a sight of relief and thanks on the child's face that Tony would cherish.

Mila had had a long conversation with Peter before they left that morning, both of them struggling to keep their eyes dry while they spoke. Two hearts broke simultaneously as Mila told him the news, and while Peter immediately agreed that the decision was for the best, he couldn't help but selfishly wish things were different.

He'd found comfort in having Mila act like a mother to him, he'd found comfort gaining a little brother in Tristan and he'd found comfort in feeling like a family of four now Tony wasn't afraid to love anymore, each of them gaining something from one another that they'd never had.

It hurt Peter immensely to suffer what felt like another loss, though he clung onto the naïve thread of hope that things would one day change to carry him through. That didn't make breaking Mila's embrace any easier however, the warmth of her arms and softness of her voice telling him that she loved him perhaps only made it worse.

Mila had spent the night driving herself insane questioning her decision. As much as her heart wanted to keep her family together, stay in New York with Tony and Peter, she couldn't shake the look of terror on her son's face or the way his voice broke as he begged her to go home.

Part of being a mother was the duty to be selfless most of the time, and no matter how much of Mila wanted to be selfish and allow herself to feel the truest definition of the word love she was sure any human could ever feel from the soul of Tony Stark, she had to put her child first.