Chapter Text
It had been some time. Tony wasn't sure how long he'd been kneeling on the carpet. Or how long Rupert Campbell-Black had been keeping him from a full collapse. His eyes burned, yet he couldn't feel the tears slipping out or Rupert's hands on his arms.
None of it made any sense.
"Tony." Rupert's voice didn't cut through the noise in Tony's mind. It didn't even reach him. "Tony." He squeezed his arm, trying to force him out of the spiral that was only beginning to form but had him entirely trapped.
Tony's breathing was unlike it had ever been, ragged, short, and quick. "She can't be dead..." His voice was not the one that ruled every room he stepped into. Now, Tony was not the man who commanded an entire room by merely standing near it.
Rupert's chest tightened, not at Tony's situation. He thought of why Monica would've been driving in the midst of the storm, why she wasn't home with her son and her husband. He wondered what Tony could have done to drive her away into the storm.
But he could also see that Tony's grief was real.
He let go of Tony's arms, watching as the man stumbled forward and caught himself with shaky hands. "Tony-"
"No." Tony shook his head. "No, you-" He let out a scoff, though it shook. "You're lying." The grief in his eyes hardened as he glanced up at Rupert, though the tears didn't stop falling. "This is Venturer's grand plan? You think lying- you think making that kind of shit up is going to win you the Franchise?"
Rupert frowned, shifting back just enough. "Tony, it's not about the Franchise. Monica is dead..." his voice shook as he said it.
"She's not. She can't-" Tony's breath hitched. "She can't be..."
"Tony. Look at me." Rupert's hand reached for Tony, settling on his shoulder. "You need to pull yourself together."
Tony flinched away. "Don't fucking tell me to pull myself together!" he shouted, shoving him away and pushing himself to stand. "And don't fucking touch me."
Rupert stayed down for a moment longer, looking up at him with the grief of a man trying to understand how a mind could work after a loss like that. "Listen to me, this is fucked up. I know-"
"Oh, you don't know shit, asshole." The venom returned to Tony's voice, but it still felt hollow. "Get out. I need to think." Rupert didn't move. "Out!"
Rupert slowly stood, not tearing his gaze from Tony's eyes. "She was my friend, too."
"She was not my friend, she was my wife!" Tony hissed. "Get out!"
"Why was she in the car, then? Why was she not here with you?" Tony paused, hands trembling. "Why were you not in that car?"
For the second time that morning, Tony was silent, the tears falling faster as he thought of the answer to those questions.
His gaze drifted to the stairs briefly. "Archie... I- I've to tell Archie... and the girls. I can't-"
"Tony," Rupert said, stepping closer to him like one does a wounded feral animal. "You don't need to tell anyone right now. What you need is a drink."
Tony let out a shaky scoff, though he didn't smile. "Archie's upstairs-"
"Still asleep. You are allowed a drink or two after what I just told you." Rupert took a step closer. "Just have a drink. Calm down. And, then, we figure out how you tell the kids."
Tony shifted a bit, gaze stuck to the floor. "I don't need your help. They're my kids."
"And they just lost their mother, and they're going to find that out the moment they walk down the stairs. You might as well prepare as much as you can to break the news." Rupert didn't step back. He just reached out, hand brushing Tony's arm as he watched him carefully. "You should get that drink. And you should get me one as well."
"I'm not fraternising with you."
Rupert let out a laugh, filled with utter disbelief. "Fraternising? Your wife just died because of whatever it is you did for her to be out in that storm! So, sit the hell down, have a drink, and then tell your kids what happened."
Tony froze, lips parting in an attempt to form words that never came out. His breath caught in his throat in an audible hitch. The trembling of his hands stopped. And every bit of defence in his eyes vanished in a pool of tears.
Rupert patted Tony's shoulder and walked past Tony into the drawing room. "Right. Scotch?" Tony heard the cabinet open and close. The clicking of glass followed. "I'll take the lack of an answer as a yes."
After a few moments, Tony followed into the drawing room, dropping onto one of the chairs and running a hand through his hair. "I didn't- I tried," he said, voice breaking.
Rupert turned to him, the bottle of Scotch still in his hand, hovering over one of the glasses. "What?" he asked. "Tried what?" He set the bottle down and walked over to him with one glass in each hand, handing him one.
Tony took the glass, gaze drifting to the amber liquid as it swirled at the movement. "I tried to stop her from leaving..." he trailed off. "I tried to stop her from getting in that car." The confession was quiet, his voice trembling. "I fucked up..." A scoff left his lips. "I've fucked up a million times, but this... she'd had enough..." He looked up at Rupert. "I didn't want her to leave."
For a second, Rupert froze, half-lowered to sit on the couch. "What happened?"
Tony didn't say anything, the glass trembling in his hand. He didn't think he had words to describe what had happened without the self-loathing spiral crashing over him again. "I don't know."
"She left for a reason, Tony. What happened?"
"I-" Tony's voice was nearly inaudible. Rupert sat across from him, setting his glass on the table. "I don't..." He closed his eyes, the tears falling freely now that he could do nothing to stop them. He took a shaky breath, lips trembling as he spoke. "She- she should've- FUCK!" His glass flew past Rupert's head and smashed onto the floor.
Rupert almost flinched before letting out a sigh. "I'm not pouring you another one." He reached for his own glass and took a sip.
Tony was breathing heavily again, but he looked far more wrecked this time. He looked utterly destroyed, though it was unclear whether it was Monica's death or his own guilt that was drowning him.
Rupert closed his eyes and huffed, standing up. He slowly closed the distance between them. "Tony. Look at me." He offered Tony his glass. "What she should or shouldn't have done doesn't matter. She left the house, and she's not coming back." Tony didn't look at him. "Tony. Your son is going to wake up any moment. You need to breathe. And drink. And calm down."
"I can't." The words sounded distant to Tony's ears. To Rupert, they sounded choked out. "I can't. She's- I can't-"
Rupert looked up at him as he kneeled in front of him. He reached out and gripped Tony's knee, the hold tight enough to cut through the haze in Tony's mind. "Tony." He shook his knee slightly. "Breathe. Your kids are not losing both parents in one night, even if the remaining one is an asshole."
Tony's gaze found Rupert's, and he shakily took the glass before throwing the remaining contents on his face. "You are not helping," he hissed.
But Rupert could hear it in his voice. He didn't quite flinch as the Scotch hit his face, dripping down to the collar of his shirt. The Tony from a moment before wouldn't have even considered throwing the Scotch at him. It was helping.
"I don't care," he said. "You are an asshole, everyone knows it. Your children know it. And you know it. So how about you start being that asshole again for five minutes and think about how you're going to tell them that their mother is dead?"
Tony flinched at the words just enough for Rupert to see. Silence fell over them as Tony tried to think, wide eyes looking at Rupert.
Footsteps echoed at the top of the stairs, coming down. "Dad?"
Rupert's gaze drifted to the door before returning to the shattered man in front of him. He took the empty glass from Tony's hand. "Go ahead."
The door clicked open after a moment, and Archie stepped inside. "Dad, what the hell? Some of us are trying to sleep and-" His gaze fell on Rupert. "What's he doing here?"
Tony looked at him and stood up, his legs barely holding him up, before Rupert stood as well and grabbed his arm to keep him standing. "Sit down." His voice broke as his throat closed in a mix of dread and raw panic. His eyes didn't follow as Archie did as told and looked at him, a small frown forming on his face as he saw the tears in his father's eyes.
"Is Mum back yet?" he asked. "I didn't see her after she left with Caitlin."
Tony felt the world tilting again. "Archie..." he whispered, unable to say anything any louder. "Arch-"
Rupert's grip tightened as Tony's balance slipped for a moment, hiding it from Archie.
Tony's lips parted, but, like before, nothing came out.
"Dad? What's going on? Where's Mum?"
Rupert shifted. "Sit down, Tony," he said, watching as the king of TV himself dropped onto a chair and turned to Archie. "I'm sorry." Archie's gaze drifted between his father and his father's greatest enemy, the confusion shifting to something deeper. "There was an accident. Your mother never made it to the O'Haras' place."
Tony's eyes slipped shut again as his trembling hands gripped the armrests of the chair until his knuckles were white.
Archie waited for something more, for the punchline, the end of the story. Anything. "... And?" he asked, voice shaking as his gaze drifted to his father. "Where is she?"
Tony didn't look at him for a few moments. When he did, his eyes were filled with tears again as he shook his head slowly.
"Your mother is dead, Archie..." Rupert said with all the gentleness he could muster. "Caitlin could get out of the car, but Monica couldn't."
Archie's gaze snapped back towards Tony, wide in a shock so deep no tears were staining them. "You believe that? Mum's fine! She- She's probably with Lizzie, or- or-"
"No..." Tony took a shaky breath. He was Lord Tony Baddingham; he had to be Lord Tony Baddingham to keep his children from collapsing. "He's not-" A shaky breath fell from his lips. "She's gone. She's not coming back."
"That doesn't mean she's dead! Why are you believing him, Dad?! He's trying to tear you down!" Archie shouted, standing up.
Rupert said nothing, letting Tony deal with it however he could.
"She is." Tony glanced at Rupert briefly before glancing back at Archie. "He can tear me down, but he would never drag any of you into it... or your mother." His voice was strained as he tried to keep it from breaking. He'd had the chance to break when Archie was upstairs. He didn't have that luxury anymore.
For a few agonising seconds, silence filled the room as the sun continued to rise outside the windows, as if the world were mocking the tragedy.
Archie didn't cry. The shock in his eyes gave way to a mix of devastation and hatred. "It was you." Tony frowned, his grip on the chair loosening slightly at the accusation. "This is your fault!"
"Archie-" Tony started, but the boy was already out of the room, the door slamming after him.
His mind raced. His fault. Of course it was. He knew that. He shifted, standing up to go after his son as he heard his bedroom door slam shut upstairs.
Rupert stood frozen for a moment, turning to look at Tony as if he knew something would go wrong.
The moment Tony stood and took a step, the world tilted- no, it slipped out of existence for a moment. He felt someone catch him just as his knees hit the floor. It took a second to process that it had been Rupert.
"He's in shock."
"He's right..."
Rupert sighed. "You're in shock, too." He pulled Tony back up and sat him back down on the chair before taking a step back. "You need to get some rest, Tony," he said. "The world won't stop because Lady Baddingham is gone."
Tony didn't respond.
Rupert turned and left the room.
Seconds later, the only thing breaking the heavy silence was the front door clicking shut, leaving Tony in an estate he'd nearly lost a few hours back for a mistake that had taken his wife away instead.