Based on the song by Fleetwood Mac, because I have Tony feels today. Covers several decades with the reader being approximately the same age as Tony.

https://youtu.be/Ud2XKt2N8fs

You could be my silver springs

Blue green colors flashin'

I would be your only dream

Your shining autumn, ocean crashing

"Mr. Stark," you greeted the larger than life enigma of a man that had caught the eye of every woman in the room. He was young; so young for the life that he was given, but you could see something of an old soul in his eyes, even from across the room as he watched you approach. For a man celebrating his twenty-first birthday, he looked almost sad.

"Please, no," he laughed with a sparkle growing in his eyes, "that's my father's name. You can just call me The Chosen One." He took your hand and brought it to his lips, still smiling against your skin, "also known as Tony. And who might you be?"

"(Y/N)." You cursed that your voice had chosen to fail you at that very moment, leaving it barely a whisper so that he had to lean in even closer in a motion that looked as if it were natural to him. When he pulled you in, he smelled of expensive cologne and a hint of scotch in an intoxicating mixture, "you seem to be making the most of your twenty-first, Mr. Star- I mean...Tony."

"I certainly am now," he whispered into your ear, his hot breath leaving a chill over your skin. "I do believe that this might just be my finest year. But enough of that," he continued, more enthusiastically, "come on! Let's dance till we puke! My goal is to get kicked out of my own party, and sweetheart, you're about to help make that happen!"

~~~

Tony made his goal that night, and at several more parties after that, but always now with you at his side; you were so immediately inseparable that his parents, Howard and Maria, began to treat you almost like their own. Wherever Tony was, you weren't far away, and they saw you as a grounding presence for the son whose mind moved faster than the life around him.

The affection for the pair was readily returned, and you had been spending more time with them than with your own family, but the boundaries had been so blurred that you no longer differentiated them. That's why when the day came that they were lost, you suffered along with their only son, sharing in a loss that you couldn't imagine, but one that you also couldn't shake.

"Tony, you have to eat." Even though you had done it a hundred times already, you pushed the tray across the floor to him, where he had taken up residence as a fixture of the room. "Please, I can't stand to see you like this."

"Then leave."

"Is that what you want?" you asked without challenge, knowing that it would be a waste of your energy. "Do you really want me to go?"

For the first time in hours, he pushed his fatigued frame up from the floor with one arm and then the other, and it startled you how quickly he had come to look frail. It was as if he had aged twenty years in only a matter of days. "Do whatever the fuck you want to do, (Y/N)," he groaned with each ache in his weakened body, "just don't you dare sit here and lecture me. You're not my goddamn mother."

Tony barely walked under his own power to the bar of their mansion, holding onto any surface he could reach to keep him upright. A tremulous hand reached out and grabbed a bottle of Scotch, the same one that he had been drinking on the night you met. The night that your life had changed for the better, but now it was the worst that you had ever seen.

"I know I'm not, Tony. I know that. But what would she think of me if I didn't look after you right now?" Just the mention of Maria, even if her name never crossed your lips, it rimmed your eyes with tears, though you wouldn't let them fall; not in front of him. This was his pain, his right to have, and you had never felt like an outsider to him until right now. "I'm not her...but I love you too, and I'm not going to let you destroy yourself."

"You love me, (Y/N)?" he asked almost meekly into his glass as it reached his lips. He took the dark liquid down in one swallow, grimacing at the burn that travelled to his stomach; despite the discomfort, it wasn't enough to stop him from pouring another. "Well, that's a lovely sentiment...I'm sorry that I'm such a huge disappointment, but I don't have anything that you should want anymore. Whatever the hell you think you loved is a joke."

"That's not true. You're grieving..."

"Just go, alright? I don't want to talk about this."

"You shouldn't hold it in, Tony."

"And you should mind your own business!" he lashed out with a sudden rage, slamming his glass on the ground by his feet. "Get the fuck out of my house, (Y/N)! You always think you know what's best for me, but you know what? I have no one to answer to but myself now, and I have no one else to depend on. It's better that way, really, because I don't have time for this wannabe therapist bullshit and people who don't have a clue what they're talking about. Now leave."

~~~

And did you say she was pretty

And did you say that she loves you

Baby, I don't wanna know

A few years after that night, Tony's name would cross your mind again after you had banished it from returning; after you had sworn to yourself that walking out of his door meant walking out of his life. This day had started innocently enough, but when you read the news that morning, there he was on the front page; genius, billionaire, playboy, and maybe someday, if he could find the man that he was meant to be, philanthropist. His name now carried with it a long list of women that meant nothing, with names that he had likely forgotten before the sun rose the next morning. Parties that lasted for days on a different continent each weekend, and money being spent as if he could print more himself if he wanted to. He had inherited Howard's fortune and his company, and as maybe only you recognized, his penchant for poor decisions as well.

I'll begin not to love you

Turn around, see me runnin'

I'll say I loved you years ago

Tell myself you never loved me, no

But the days of chasing those decisions were over, and being the conscience at his side was no longer a role that you kept. It had been years since you had seen him with your own eyes; there were a few unanswered calls from each of you in the beginning, but they soon stopped, and that life was forgotten. So why was it that seeing his face now, even only in print on your kitchen table, threw you into a painful nostalgia that you actually wanted to revisit it?

You had thought that maybe your feelings for the man had been reciprocated back then, but it was made excruciatingly clear on that final night that they weren't. You had been on your share of dates and had your own list of encounters, though not nearly as long as what you imagined his list to be. You'd be lying to say that you weren't trying to numb a pain at first, and one that he had inflicted; your rational mind knew that he was in his own hell that day, but it didn't lessen yours, and you never quite recovered from it.

He didn't love you, and you thought that you had finally come to accept it. He didn't love you, and it became a mantra that would carry you through each day when his face became more and more popular in those damn magazines and newspapers on your table as each year passed.

Once he had stood before the world and proclaimed himself as Iron Man, you knew it was an inevitability that you would cross paths again one day.

And did you say she was pretty

And did you say that she loves you

Baby, I don't wanna know

Oh, no

And can you tell me was it worth it

Really, I don't wanna know

"Pepper?" you hissed at your television, turning it off. "Pepper Potts? What the hell kind of a name is that?" With a shake of your head in wonder and a toss of the remote, you grabbed your keys, holster and gun, and made your way to work. Before you could leave, you stood in your doorway and looked back at the TV, your mind working on clearing so that you could focus on your own day, and not falling prey to Tony Stark getting in your head again. "Pepper Potts," you whispered, finally closing the door, "sounds like something out of a damn Disney movie."

You were almost at that press conference where Tony flipped the world upside down, and you wondered if he would recognize you if you had been. It had been decades now since you had crossed paths, and dammit all if Nick Fury hadn't planned this on purpose; he wouldn't admit it, but this was too unlikely to be chance.

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to exit the donut."

"Why is making me do this?" you groaned, watching Tony struggle his way out of the giant replica, his suit looking a bit beaten to match his ego in his hungover state. "You don't need me here, Nat, this is your job."

"Director Fury wants you to be, and that's all you need to know."

"I don't want to see him."

"Here," she said, all but ignoring your concern, "make sure you don't hit an artery. Unless that's what you're going for here."

"What, murder?" you scoffed. "No, he didn't piss me off that bad. But I will get satisfaction from stabbing him in the neck, at the very least."

Romanoff left you to cross the shop and take her place next to Nick, smiling coyly at Tony with the knowledge that you were only a few feet away and that he was none the wiser. You could feel your hands start to shake; not a good situation when you were about to stick a needle into the guy. "Deep breath," you mumbled, looking up to see her give the slight nod for you to join them.

"You," Nick began with a point at Tony, "you have become a problem. A problem that I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not the center of my universe. I've got bigger problems than you in the Southwest region to deal with. Hit him," he ordered, and watched you make your move with the needle in hand.

"Oh, ow! Oh, God, what? Are you gonna steal my kidney and sell it?" Tony jumped and pulled away. "Can you please not do anything awful for like...five seconds..." he gasped once he saw you and made the connection as to who he was seeing. "(Y/N)? What the hell...it's you...right? What..." he paused, shaking his head as if to force the confusion away, "what are you doing here? When did you join SHIELD?"

"I'm a SHIELD shadow," you explained as calmly as you could, though you wanted to scream at the man for so many things, even though you had no idea where you would even begin. "Once we knew that you were ill, Agent Romanoff and I were tasked to you by Director Fury."

Suddenly it was that terrible day again, and his expression shifted. The warmth of recognition faded and he looked almost offended that you would imply he would need to be watched, and of all people for it to be by you. He leaned forward and rested his face against his hand, watching you with an uncomfortable intensity that had you wanting to run in any direction other than his.

"I suggest you apologize," he replied flatly.

"After you, asshole."

"Well, this is going better than I expected," Nick smiled, leaning back in the booth with a few sips of his coffee as he watched. "Maybe we should give these kids a few minutes-"

"No. Stay," you snapped, "I've done my job, so please excuse me." Hurrying away without looking like you were running, you made it to the back door of the shop before you allowed the tears to finally spill and for the feelings to rush back in. One look at that bastard right in front of you, close enough to touch but miles away, was all it took to travel back in time and to feel like you had never left.

~~~

Time casts a spell on you, but you won't forget me

I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me

I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Unbeknownst to you, the tables had turned in that moment; now it was Tony who was torn, unable to get you out of his head. He hadn't seen you in forever, and suddenly there you were, a ghost from his past that he had so reluctantly let go. It wasn't easy by any means, but when you didn't answer his calls or return his letters, he decided that pushing might make it even worse, so he stopped with the hope that you would come to him. But when nothing happened, and you never came back, he filled the void the best way that he knew how; money, alcohol, and women that would never be you.

But now, when he was awake he thought that he would see you in his periphery, just missing you, when in reality you were nowhere to be found. When he slept, you haunted him, even with Pepper sleeping at his side. He rolled over to look at her, a vision of peacefulness in contrast to his turmoil, wondering why anyone would think that he had something to offer, and why anyone would suffer the way you had through his bullshit.

When the day came that Pepper finally called for a break, he wasn't the least bit surprised. He actually blamed her for waiting so long. "In her defense, I'm a handful," he had told Steve, and he meant it fully; there were more days than he could count when he was barely able to deal with himself. He wasn't shocked when the team began to fall apart around him either; he deserved this, he thought. He was meant to be alone, because if anyone gets close or if he cares to much, he either pushes them away or the world steals them from his hands.

He walked to that line at the airport in Leipzig, standing with his team, staring down people that he used to call his friends, his family, and all he could do was wonder where you were in that moment and what you would think of him now. What would you think of the man he had become; following the rules for the first time, but in doing so, destroying something that he truly loved. Would you be proud or ashamed?

And then he knew.

When you stepped out of Steve's shadow and faced Tony yourself, he had his answer. It was the final twist of the knife in his already breaking heart. After all of these years, there was always a shred of hope in him, sometimes buried too deep to find, but it was there. Until right now.

"Mr. Stark," you greeted plainly, holding your emotions from his view. "Or are you still going by The Chosen One?"

"Shit," he murmured under his mask at the recognition, his breath catching in his chest. "I'm still Tony, (Y/N). I can still call you that, can't I?"

Taking your weapon in hand and charging forward towards the man you once loved, and maybe still did, you felt a slight crack in your voice as you snapped back, "you can call me The One That Got Away."