james rogers. (makeastand) wrote in valloic, @ 2023-11-12 20:47:00 |
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TONY (II) & JAMES & FRANCIS. Not even three minutes had passed from the moment Tony had seen the notification with his mother’s name to when he strode quickly through the door of his parents’ apartment. Despite the short time span, Tony knew in his gut that the only reason he actually found his father there and not already gone was because of Natalia. If there was a silver lining to any of this, it was that. Tony shut the door firmly behind him and deftly maneuvered past all the hounds in search of his dad and little sister. Four years. One month shy of four full years that Torunn and James had spent together in Vallo with nothing ripping them apart. If James didn't count both Blackpoints as one collective run, it was the longest time they had been together in one single displacement. And with one jarring notification and one empty side of the bed, that streak was over. James had been here in Vallo for half a year before Torunn had even shown up, after leaving her back in Tumbleweed, and yes, he had managed to survive. Barely. If not for the Steve here then, if not for Nyx, if not for Pepper when she came along months after him but months before Torunn, he would have definitely been just existing instead of any semblance of living. But that was then, when he and Torunn just expected to be shuttled on to the next world before very long, with the same jadedness that they expected people to be taken away and replaced over and over again. That was back when James was still hoping to go home to the original Blackpoint where he felt they all belonged. That was before the future showed up three fucking times and kept saying the same thing. They never went home to Blackpoint. They stayed in Vallo. James had struggled with that the first time times collided, seeing the proof that they never went home to Blackpoint in the antics of a toddler Anthony and the vibrancy of a grown Natalia. But he'd loved the two of them more than he had loved the idea of going home to Blackpoint and seeing them go back at the end of Vallo's spooky season hijinx had been so difficult. James and Torunn had still been jaded and James had still talked like he was sure they were due to world hop again after several years in, but that future hadn't let go of him, not really. The second time that future and present had collided, there hadn't been Anthony or Natalia (or other kids of theirs, for that matter, though James suspected there were more), but there had been others from the future who confirmed they both still existed. So James let go of a little of the jadedness to make room for hope of the future. This time it had felt like that attempt to hope a little more, instead of just bracing constantly to leave, had been rewarded with getting an adult Anthony and a toddler Natalia and Francis' future daughter too. James and Torunn knew the drill, that the kids' time here was limited, and so they had been making the most of it. With Bucky back and the kids here, things had been unbelievably good. Hope had started to seem like a good place to let pieces of himself exist. Hope was for suckers, clearly, and James was absolutely sure he was the biggest sucker of all for ever forgetting what his lot in life, in cosmic multiversal life, truly was. If not for Voc whining when James stumbled out of the bed and toward the bedroom door, James might not have even looked across the bedroom at the crib. Torunn was gone from Vallo. He didn't think he could stand looking at an empty crib right now. Except. It wasn't empty at all. Laying there, sleeping peacefully, as if their shared reality hadn't just rolled off its axis entirely, was Natalia, looking every bit the same as she had when Torunn had laid their sleeping daughter down in that crib last night. His breath held, James started counting Natalia's breaths with the rise and fall of her back, because in the night she had taken on a James-esque position of limbs akimbo and half of her body on her stomach. Eventually, James remembered to breathe again. Timelines. James knew all about timelines, of course, so really, this shouldn't be so shocking that Natalia still existed. The kids just hadn't known they were from some branch of Vallo's timeline where Torunn had woken up beside James when the disappearance alert went off and they had continued to make the most of the kids' time in the present. But in this here, in this now, James was staring down at what was truly left of Torunn. Not her possessions, not their pack of hounds of various species, not even James' memories. But their daughter. Selfishly, James wanted to snatch her out of that crib and hold on to her as if he could keep Natalia here just by his grip alone. Reasonably, he knew he should let her sleep as long as possible, because when Natalia woke, it would be to a total lack of Torunn. James was still fighting with himself when he heard the front door open and close. He wasn't surprised; everyone got the same notifications. The hounds didn't react overly much, so it was someone they had no issue with being in the apartment. It narrowed the list considerably, because even Francis had to deal with Thori's very particular attitude. Yet even with Natalia right there in the crib, James hadn't expected the person who strode into the bedroom to be his and Torunn's son. James' chest clenched painfully but that didn't stop him from meeting Anthony halfway and pulling the other man into the kind of hug only the very durable could handle, and even then, James was probably still holding on too tightly. Tony offered no resistance to being pulled into his dad’s iron grip, and hugged him back just as tightly. He briefly clocked Natalia in her crib before returning his sole focus back to their father. Refusing to end the hug, Tony opted to begin the conversation while they still hung onto each other. “She comes back, Dad. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know when this was going to happen, but I promise this is only temporary.” James heard every single one of those words and understood what his son was saying, but it was like he couldn't process it at first. In fairness, he was still only minutes in on trying to fully process that Torunn was gone. He knew it factually, he even accepted it factually, but the emotional punch of reality hadn't impacted yet. "You knew this was going to happen?" he asked. He had heard Tony say it, that he didn't know when it would happen, but that still allowed for having the general knowledge in the first place. But there was a more important question still for James. "When is she coming back?" Though James couldn’t currently see it, Tony’s expression grew pained. “I don’t know,” he was forced to admit, feeling completely awful about it. “You and Mom would really give many details about it. Dad, I-” Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the slam of a door, a chorus of barking, and Francis’ voice yelling to be heard above the hounds. “Thori chill, I cannot deal with you right, yeah, hi VOC, don’t jump, dude, c’mon I-” His words and the noises of the hounds both grew louder as Francis made his way down the hallway and toward the bedroom. When he appeared in the doorway he didn’t seem surprised to see Tony or Natalia and his eyes immediately shot over toward his best friend. “I came over as soon as I saw.” Normally, hearing the forever headbutting of his best friend and the helhound who never missed an opportunity to try and intimidate Francis would have made James smile. Right now, it was just another thing to add to the consequences of Vallo ripping Torunn from them – their entire multi-species hound pack that wasn't going to take this lightly. "Tony says she comes back someday," was the first thing James offered up when he spoke to Francis. What else was he supposed to say right now? Francis blinked for a second. His gaze shifted from James to Tony and back again before he gave his best friend a nod. “Cleo said the same thing. She called. She’s with Tony and Pepper at the Penthouse.” His heart felt heavy at their kids being put in a position to watch the “adults” in their lives shoulder this unimaginable weight. Tony gave his uncle a nod, then turned back to face his father. “Dad, I’m pretty sure you want to be anywhere but here right now, and the last thing you want is to be around a bunch of people. But will you please come upstairs with us just for a little while?” James wasn't certain how he felt about being so seen but his own son, similar ages or not. It wasn't just the obvious, that of course James didn't want to be around such a familiar and well-shared space as his and Torunn's apartment. It was the thing in Tony's expression that James at least assumed meant he knew that James would rather be already gone to ground then deal with brutal reality. It was embarrassing, even if it was only a product of James' own perception. But it gave him a focus. He couldn't go away to lick his wounds. His kids were still here. And while Tony was an adult, Natalia was still a toddler. He nodded his head yes, that he would come upstairs, but still hesitated. "As long as Natalia's sleeping, she isn't looking for her." Francis ground his teeth down on the inside of his cheek. James’ words had triggered a long buried memory of losing his own mother, and he needed the sharp pain to keep himself in check. This wasn’t about him right now. He was about to offer to stay in the apartment with Natalia if they didn’t want to wake her up when Tony cut in. “Haven’t you noticed she takes after you in the sleeping department?” With a gentleness belied by his powerful frame, Tony slipped over to the crib, turned off the alarms, and had his baby sister in his arms with barely so much as a twitch of wakefulness. It was funny, James hadn't made the connection before, at least not in that way. Natalia looked too much like Torunn for him to see himself in her. Even years back when she had been the grown one from the future, she had reminded James mostly of Torunn. But his son was right, she did sleep like him, even if she hadn't been starfished in the crib. "Okay. That takes care of that," he said, looking from Tony to Francis. "I'm gonna feed the pack and then, yeah, we can go up." Natalia had easily snuggled deeper into her big brother’s arms and Tony patted her back gently. He was trying not to think too hard about just how she would react once she did wake up to find their mother gone. They might want to warn the neighboring buildings about unexpected storms. Despite that particular anxiety, he was relieved when James didn’t put up a fight for the penthouse plan. “Thank you.” “I’ll get some things for Natalia.” Francis grabbed a bag and started looking for things to pack away, desperately trying to find something useful to do. CLEO & TONY (I) & PEPPER. Ultimately, Cleo didn't think she and Tony said any actual words to each other when the notification came through. They didn't really need to when it came to them, especially when it came to strategy, which was exactly what it had become the moment they saw the list. Tony needed to get to his dad. While Cleo wanted to go to her dad, Francis was on the same floor as James, and they didn't have a third person in this apartment to send up to Tony and Pepper, who needed the information now. She made it up to the penthouse in what felt like the slowest elevator in existence, but in truth moved at a good clip, because she hadn't even finished debating with OPAL about speeding it up before the elevator stopped. The doors started to open and Cleo launched herself forward through them before they were even fully open, tumbled into the sort of mini lobby between the elevator and the actual front door of the penthouse, and ran to knock on that door. Well, pound on it. Momentum and emotion sort of turned normal knocking into that. Tony didn’t have to bother looking at any of the camera before he moved to open up his door, given the information he and Pepper had just received, there was a limited number of people who would turn up that fast while knocking on the door with that level of strength. His face much more somber than usual, with age and grief lines much more pronounced, Tony swung the door open and caught Cleo as she hurtled herself into his arms. “Please tell me Tony is with James.” Cleo didn't verbally confirm it, but her nod was emphatic enough to nearly crack her neck. Her breath was being saved for the words that tumbled out of her in a rush. "She comes back," she said, gaze snapping between the two people she claimed as grandparents, even though neither of her parents considered these two their parents. "I know Aunt Torunn is gone now, but she comes back." It was fair to say that Pepper had been bracing herself to emotionally white-knuckle through the ensuing hours and days and beyond without Torunn anywhere in their same dimensional existence anymore. That came to an abrupt halt when Cleo's words tumbled out of her at breakneck speed. "What? When?" Pepper questioned reactively, her voice tight. Cleo's expression, already tense, fell at the question she knew would be coming. "We don't know," she said, almost imploring, not wanting them to think she and Tony had deliberately left them in a state of ignorance. "I'm sorry, I swear that Tony and I didn't know now was the leaving part of when until the notification. They don't really talk about it in much detail, they never have, especially Uncle James. It's just… they all treat it like ancient history." Tony kept a supportive hold on Cleo, but pulled his head back to look at her when she spoke. She comes back. Tony would hopefully be relaying the same information to James. Tony’s eyes shot toward the elevator, as if expecting it to swing open to reveal his son and grandchildren at any second. When it remained closed, he turned his gaze back to Cleo. “Come on, let’s sit down inside for a bit.” Sitting down sounded great, but the energy behind the rush up here wasn't just going to burn off. Nor was Cleo's town crier job done, if Anthony hadn't seen Francis on his way to get to James. "I have to call my dad, I don't know if Tony got to tell him or not," she said, one hand gripping Tony as she patted herself down with the other hand. No phone. Was it still on the bed? Given the scramble to dress and run, all signs pointed to yes. A phone slid into Cleo's hand then, the fingers feminine and familiar, and Cleo flashed Pepper a strained smile of thanks before lifting the already-dialed phone to her ear. "No, it's me." And Cleo repeated to Francis what she had already said, "she comes back," just this time with a wobble to the next word, "Daddy, I know Aunt Torunn's gone, but she comes back." While the phone call was in progress, Pepper grasped Cleo's shoulder in one hand and pressed her palm against her husband's back to add a little guidance to the original suggestion to sit down. Pepper was, of course, no stranger at all to the whims of multiple worlds (and versions of those worlds) and how much it hurt to lose people to them being yanked away, or being the one yanked away from everyone else. It still lingered with her, that Torunn and James had been in Tumbleweed and she wasn't there with them, and now the aching throb was that Torunn was somewhere else and she couldn't be with her. If the multiverse was kind, some or all of them were wherever she was in some part, even if it was from Blackpoint with no Vallo memories, or from the future of the timeline Pepper didn't survive, or something, anything that meant her very, very jaded daughter wasn't walling herself off even further. But there was no way to say. There was only the vaguely-detailed promise that Torunn would come back someday. Before anyone turned to sit, Pepper pressed her face against Tony's back. Just a second to breathe. Just a second to get some composure. Tony was often filled with nervous energy that manifested in fidgeting, pacing, and a variety of other things. However, the moment he felt Pepper press her forehead against his back, he stilled. For her he’d do literally anything, especially now. He stayed exactly as he was, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest as he tried to breathe deeply. When Pepper finally shifted, he turned and reached a hand out for hers. Cleo ended the call quickly, knowing where her dad would want to go as soon as possible, and studied her grandparents. They might not be her grandparents by blood or by apocalyptic adoption, but no one had been able to stop an infant Cleo from hearing Tony being told those names for Tony and Pepper and saying them right along with him. So, they were her grandparents. And they were in pain. "I don't know what else to do? Do you want to know more things about the future that are about Aunt Torunn?" she asked, her gaze snapping back and forth between them. God, Tony wished he knew what to do or say. The expression on Cleo’s face was like a punch to the gut, practically knocking the wind out of him. “You don’t-” he paused, then shook his head. “You’re not responsible to fix this, Birdie. It’s going to hurt like hell no matter what, but we’ll get through things. You and Tony and Natalia are doing enough just by being here with us.” "It sure doesn't seem like enough," Cleo muttered, which made Pepper reach out and pull both Cleo and Tony down, with their granddaughter firmly tucked between them. She kept hold of one of Cleo's hands and wrapped her other arm around Cleo's back, so Pepper could also press her hand to Tony's back too. "Because you're burdened with the same affliction as this entire extended family," Pepper said, squeezing Cleo's hand, "the inability to accept anything less than peace and stability and happiness for the people you love. There wasn’t any resistance on Tony’s part to being pulled down onto the couch along with Pepper and Cleo. He tried to relax himself into the cushions, but that was beyond his reach at the moment. Instead, Tony just leaned his head in against Cleo’s as they settled. “It’s a real bitch sometimes.” With one hand held in Pepper's, Cleo grabbed one of Tony's with her other, squeezing both their hands and pressing her head back against his. "And you're going to tell me that turning it off wouldn't make things less of a bitch, aren't you?" Cleo murmured. "Hm, it's nice when I don't even have to get my talking points out," Pepper said, resting her head against Cleo's as well. "Your grandfather must not be a terrible influence on you in the future." Cleo let out an emotional laugh, thick with feeling and a bit choked. "I haven't said what kind of influence Grandpa was and I'm leaving it at that." Tony’s soft chuckle joined in with Cleo’s, just as emotional. “Neither confirm nor deny. I taught you well, Birdie.” "Yeah, you did, Grandpa. You did." On that second you did, Cleo squeezed both their hands again, so tight, making it more than clear that she meant both of them. CLEO & FRANCIS. Even with the penthouse full of people, it was definitely more than sizable enough for someone to get a little space without being out of reach. It wasn't like it lacked places to be comfortable in, despite also looking like something out of a catalog. It was one of those places that Cleo found Francis. She eyed him and the couch that faced the view through one of many windows, briefly debated the logistics related to the issue of this not yet being the man who had raised her to the degree that they were nearly the same age, before ultimately deciding to wedge herself between him and the couch anyhow and wrap her arms around him. It didn't matter that she was a days-new person to him, at least not to her. She would have given him comfort on minute one of being in the past if it had been called for. She was also exactly as stubborn as both of her parents, so even a dismissal of being fine wouldn't deter her. Francis hadn’t missed Cleo eyeing him before she made her move to the couch, so it wasn’t any big surprise when she wriggled in next to him and pulled him in for a hug. He didn’t waste any time in returning it, either. Cleo and Tony both had clearly been doing everything they could to keep a lot of people from falling to absolute pieces at the news of Torunn’s disappearance. He knew from experience just how heavy that burden could feel, and he was grateful. “Thanks for everything you’ve done today.” As much as Cleo wanted to take that gratitude and hold it tight to her heart, to feel good about anything right now, there was no denying that in the face of this much grief, she and Tony felt like they'd let everyone down. "I wish we could do more," she said, blowing her hair back from her face with a huff of her breath. "People leaving and coming back is normal to us, it's a fundamental part of our lives, we expect most people to come back at some point, so it just… never occurred to me to make someone tell us specifics of things that no one talks about." Francis gave her a shake of his head. “It’s not the best situation ever, but knowing she’s not going to be separated from us for good is a lot, Cleo. I promise. And believe me, I get the impulse to want to do more, but I promise you’ve already done a lot toward keeping us all sane today.” At that last comment, Cleo couldn't help but try for at least a little bit of levity, even if it fell very flat right now. "Don't get carried away, Dad," she said with a stilted snicker, "I can accept I was helpful, but I don't have whatever cosmic power that would be needed to make any of you sane." The comment hit its mark and Francis huffed out a soft laugh in response. “You’re right, no one could ever accuse any of us of sanity.” He pulled Cleo close and hugged her tightly. “At least you’ve embraced the family legacy.” "Why fight something that can be so much fun?" Cleo said, burying herself in that hug and her face in Francis' shoulder. He might not feel the same or smell the same, but every part that mattered was the same. "At least, it's fun until Vallo drags down the room and makes any more trolling seem in really bad taste." Her reply earned yet another soft laugh from Francis as he continued to hug her. He wasn’t really sure he felt like a dad yet, especially with Cleo being so close in age to him, but he did know for certain that he cared deeply for her. She was family, and he’d do anything for family. As the hug came to an end, Francis raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Does that mean that you’re finally going to tell me who your mom actually is?” "What, you can't just be happy living a great life with Lara Croft?" Cleo asked, shaking her head playfully. "Talk about greed, Dad." She tsked, but the joking turned more sober. Not deadly serious, just not so openly playful. And Cleo took a breath, then spoke. "My mom is Calli Barton," she said evenly, her gaze locked on Francis. The answer wasn't exactly trolling, not on the level of before, but okay, fine, Cleo did want to see if it took him any time, even brief, to know who she was talking about. Calli. The name prickled a familiar part of his brain, though Francis couldn’t immediately place it. Calli, Calli, Calli. Several seconds later the pieces clicked into place and his eyes widened in shock. “Mini?” Today monumentally sucked, but that right there was a bright point in it, getting to watch her dad's eyes get as round as possible. Cleo sort of wished she had been able to capture it in some way other than her memories. "That's Mom." She grinned at him slightly. "Now do you get why I didn't tell you the truth right away? You wouldn't have believed me." Unable to help himself, Francis’ mouth actually dropped open slightly with the shock of the news. Mini. Calli Barton. He’d always known there was an attraction there on his end back at home. But decimated apocalyptic wastelands combined with being forced to lead the Scavengers didn’t exactly make for a lot of time for romance. Plus half the time he couldn’t tell if Mini hated him or liked him. Francis finally snapped his mouth shut and managed to blink at his (their) daughter. “I mean, I’m not 100% sure I believe it now. She didn’t get some sort of head trauma you’re not telling me about, right?” At that, Cleo's laugh rang out, some wholly genuine amusement fully felt on this otherwise immeasurably awful day. She just watched Francis for a minute, watched the familiar way his jaw was currently working in this much younger face, and felt a little weirdly sad that there had been a time when this had been so unfathomable to both her parents. Not because they were stupid (they apparently had been/would be idiots about it, but not unintelligent) but because their lives in their world hadn't had any room for them to even try to accept it as possible. "Turns out she didn't hate you as much as you thought she did," she said cheerfully, but her gaze was sympathetic. That confirmation left an unanticipated warmth spreading through Francis’ chest. As Cleo’s news truly began sinking in, Francis felt something that had been in short supply since that morning- hope. Cleo’s existence meant that Mini would get to experience something outside of the trauma and hardness of their world. That one day she’d get to create a life for herself beyond just what the needs of others dictated. Even if their futures weren’t entwined and Mini never wanted to talk to him ever again, she’d still be here. As much as he wanted Torunn back as quickly as possible, or how much he desperately wanted to see Azari and Pym too, the thought of Mini getting to experience it all left Francis feeling emotional. He knew better than to ask Cleo when Mini would arrive. As anxious as he was to know, he didn’t want to put her in a tough position by asking. So he just cracked a smile and nudged Cleo with his shoulder. “When she finally shows up, I’m going to have the most fun messing with her.” Cleo's laugh was nothing short of delighted at that announcement. Someday she hoped she got to see it in action, but for now, just knowing her dad was going to have the time of his life messing with her mom made today less sucky. "Tell her you have a dozen kids together," she said conspiratorially, "then work it down to four or five." She smiled innocently. Francis laughed again. A genuinely delighted laugh that rumbled his chest. “You’re definitely the master, and I think I need to start taking notes.” "Stick with me, kid," Cleo said in a cartoony sort of old movie voice, "and you can't go wrong." Francis threw his arm around her shoulder and tugged Cleo in close again. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” |