Shadowplay | Tony Stark

THIRTY SEVEN - BACK TO NEW YORK

It was raining in New York as Mila stood by the huge windows of what seemed like the hundredth floor of the Stark Tower, way up above the rest of the world.

And in that moment, that's exactly how Mila felt, away from the rest of the world. They had travelled straight through the night on a long journey back to New York City and in that time, Mila hadn't spoken more than a handful of words to anybody but her son.

She wasn't upset or confused, angry or frustrated, in fact, Mila didn't feel anything, not yet at least. Much like the death of her father, Mila hadn't had the chance to process anything that had just happened to her and to her son, and that still included losing one of her parents.

So much had happened in such a short and intense space of time that Mila had become overwhelmed with emotions she wasn't sure how to depict or how to deal with, leaving her with one overbearing sense of numbness to everything but her child.

She held Tristan on her lap the entire way back to New York, both of them pretty much silent the entire journey as they clung to one another. Tony had wanted to sit with them, he'd wanted to console his family and tell them that it was all going to be alright now, but as he stared back through the helicarrier and saw them with their eyes closed and heads pressed together, he knew it was better to save that conversation for another time.

Mila's first moment alone came later that evening after Peter had kindly offered to play with Tristan for a while to give her some space upon their return to the city, which she had gladly accepted once realising her son seemed less than phased by the ordeal they'd survived that day.

She stood and watched as Peter and Tristan walked out of the room hand in hand, the toddler practically bursting with excitement at seeing Peter again after so long, his little voice talking non-stop until Mila could no longer hear them.

She found solace in staring out of the window at the rain-soaked city, standing there for what felt like seconds but in reality, Mila had no idea how much time had passed, her eyes glazed over once the silence was interrupted by somebody clearing their throat behind her.

She spun round on her heels with a heavy heart, the time spent staring out into the rain finally giving her the space to feel the crushing weight of the day's events, her breathing becoming shallow from the force.

Tony was stood by the doorway, lingering awkwardly with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He wasn't sure what to say to Mila, the only word he could think of being sorry, but he knew that wouldn't quite cut it.

He felt bound by guilt and failure, angry at himself for not protecting Mila and Tristan when they'd trusted him to, when they'd needed him to. He'd let them down, and while Tony had grown used and also numb to letting down businessmen and congressman, even entire cities of people, he couldn't deal with letting down the only people he loved.

"How's Joss doing?" She asked meekly, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke.

"He's fine, doctor patched him up. Rhodey showed him to a room a couple floors down." Tony replied.

He felt wary to approach Mila as they stood ten feet apart. The night sky was ebony behind her, illuminated of course by a million tiny stars that shone only half as bright as her eyes usually did, the bright colours and sounds of Times Square in the near distance would've been muted by her dazzling smile and songbird laugh.

Mila looked quiet, and not because of the light silence. Her face was almost emotionless, though her eyes were soft in the dim yellow light from a floor lamp in the corner of the room, her arms cradling her body with shoulders pulled into herself, a slight downturn on her lips that was perhaps more painful than seeing an actual frown, Tony knowing how hard she was trying to hold herself together when really, she needed to crumble.