Chapter Text
Watching Pepper tug Morgan into bed, Tony's heart broke all over again.
"Goodnight, sweetie." Pepper whispered softly, ruffling through her hair before getting up. With one last glance, she slipped out the door. Closed it carefully. Walked away.
Tony remained. He watched his little girl like nearly every night. And like nearly every night, he watched her gaze move and rest on him. As if she could see him, which he knew was impossible, and yet… yet, he felt as if watched. Weren't there stories of people able to see ghosts?
He snorted at the thought. Tony Stark considering all those psychic lunatics suddenly actually saying the truth.
The Ghosts of your loved ones are all around us!
For just your credit card number I can get into contact with them!
As if. Yet, him being here, him watching his loved ones, him feeling as if watched… wasn't it evidence enough? Some of those lunatics had to be telling the truth. Or none of them actually knew, just making guesses upon guesses.
Closing in on Morgan, he pressed an unfelt kiss against her small head. "I miss you." He whispered lowly and waited until she closed her eyes, finally fell asleep.
Afterward, like usual, he floated through the wall, off towards Pepper. His poor, strong, lovely, perfect Pepper. She never showed any sign of seeing him. Just went on with her life, as if he was thin air. Read through her books, browsed dating sites to his eternal dismay, because who could ever replace him, watched old recordings of them, flipped through photos, slept.
Just life moving on.
Like it should be.
And still, he was here. Watching. Existing on.
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Morgan Stark, 6 years by now, sleepily tapped into the kitchen. Stopping at the counter, she got her chair and climbed onto it, carefully looking around.
Where was the cookie jar?
She needed cookies for breakfast. She had woken up wanting cookies for breakfast, so she would get cookies for breakfast. As long as her mother wasn't yet awake, no one would stop her. No one.
Not seeing the jar, she grumbled lowly.
"Friday? Where are my cookies?"
"I'm not sure you should start your day with cookies." Friday replied, making her pout.
"Friiidaaay?" She pleaded with the voice, waiting calmly.
If Friday could sigh, she would, right? Her mom always sighed when she stared at her with pleading eyes. Sighed and gave her whatever she wanted. Most of the time. Or just send her off sulking, not caring for her wants and fits.
"To your right." Friday eventually replied, making a sly smirk appear on Morgan's face. Perfect.
Climbing onto the counter, she opened one of the cabinets and found the cookie jar. Just one, she told herself, while opening it.
Three cookies later, she sat on the counter, her legs dangling off, holding the jar and nibbling on her fourth.
"You are a really naughty girl." Her dad suddenly said, making her yelp and drop the jar, which of course clattered to the ground and sprung into a thousand pieces.
Her mom was by her side in what felt like an instant, carefully navigating the shards on the ground.
"Morgan!" she scolded, angry already.
"There was… I just… Dad was…" Morgan stammered together, staring at her father, who leaned against the counter opposite of her, a frown on his face, his head tilted.
The anger on her mother's face faded instantly. Replaced by the hurt Morgan hated to see so much. She hadn't wanted to make her sad again. At times, she could hear her cry at night. Things were especially bad around Dad's birthday. Or the day he had left. Or the day they had exchanged those rings. Oh, there were too many bad days, to be honest.
Glancing at the counter again, her father was still there. Why couldn't her mother see him? He was right there!
Her mom pulled her off the counter and into her arms. "We talked about this, Morgan. Dad isn't around anymore."
But… he was right there, watching them.
Still, Morgan understood enough to know what she had to say.
"I know." The small 6-year-old said. "I just miss him so much."
Her mom sobbed and she hugged her, as good she could. If only she hadn't said anything. In the meantime, she glanced at the counter, her father gone. Maybe, he couldn't take mom crying, just like her.