She could see him weighing the option in the back of his mind. The thought he had put forward wasn’t an unfair one for the situation they were in, but for the two of them? It was the least likely path that they could go down and still be happy. They had wealth and they had influence, but their lives brought a certain amount of danger - and Tony was right. At the end of the day, he was right. Even if she argued that they could convince someone to give them a child, it was highly unlikely. Because whoever they brought into their lives, they were knowingly bringing them into danger. (And potentially, a life without parents at a much earlier stage in their lives. Just as Tony and Zatanna had suffered that same loss themselves.)
“Me either,” she admitted softly. As much as she wanted to, it would be them putting on a show for adoption agencies and it would be a very temporary thing. Zatanna smiled weakly, placing a hand on his back and rubbing in a circular motion, knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to provide him any comfort in this. This motion, this useless motion, it was for her. “I don’t want to start this off with a lie either.” Because that’s what it would be, if they pulled back from all of this, temporarily or not, they’d be attempting to close a door on something that they both, for better or worse, needed. “The last thing I want is to let our kids believe that we’re someone we’re not. And really,” she huffed a laugh as she spoke, “we’ve never been very good at hiding who we are, anyway.”
They both had too many questions about their parents. Tony had come face to face with both of his in their prime and realized that he only knew a fraction of what he thought. And Zatanna? She’d like to claim that she knew her father, but that betrayal still burned in the back of her mind. “Shut up,” she said firmly, but not cruelly. Her arms tightened around him, holding him close as she shook her head. “Let he without sin cast the first stone,” she whispered. Zatanna hadn’t been one for stringing biblical verses together to prove her point, but there was no better way to prove her point here. “Everyone deserves a place to land, someplace where they’re not judged for all the bullshit - we both deserve that.” She knew he’d argue that he was talking about his sin and not her own, that he’d try to weave it into her being this being that was so far above him she couldn’t possibly be stained in the same way. (But in the same thought, she knew that he’d know he was lying.)
Zatanna worried at her lip, having told herself that she wasn’t going to be the wife that pushed him - wasn’t going to be the friend that crossed her arms on the side and judged him for partying as hard as he did or for the glass in his hand. But she would have been lying - and she was lying - that it didn’t bother her. That his serenading at the gala last year hadn’t worried her, that waking up in Vegas and believing that she was just a drunken mistake of his didn’t cut her to her core. “Start with the drinking,” she suggested directly. “Do what you can. I can’t make you change. And we can’t change the past - the only thing we have is right here. If you want to make that first step, if you’re ready, I’m here.” And she would be either way he went.
Their hands were together, and it seemed like Tony had heard her, but there was still a heaving feeling sitting on her chest, like this was just the start. They had fought side by side before; they had been a team, but this, as Tony had said, wasn’t a tangible enemy. This was internal. This was a personal demon. “We’ll make it work,” she agreed with a gentle hum. “I think we’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”
They’d tried, a few times, before college and after college (because while Tony had been only twenty-one years old when his parents died, he already had a couple of doctorates under his belt) to make things work. They’d tried because Maria had made them try, because she maintained an utterly stubborn belief that Howard and Tony had the potential to be the best of friends, that her husband was capable of being a great role model, that her son was eager to learn from his elders.
It was as if she never knew them at all.
They went to therapy twice. They tried drinking together, which went well until it didn’t. They went to business meetings, attempting the one-two punch, and only found that they stepped on each others’ toes. The workshop was as close as they ever got, the only time Tony even knew what love looked like on his father’s face, but it lasted for a painfully short time before it was stripped from them.
Parents and children, as far as Tony was concerned, were always overshadowed by falsehoods. Anyone who truly cared for their father soon found themselves disillusioned as an adult, and he couldn’t decide what would hurt more; knowing that your father never wanted you to exist, or living with the disappointment that came from a godlike parent falling down into humanity.
Zatanna knew what the latter was like. Her soul was doomed because of the man she adored and idolised. What were they doing, bringing a child into a world like that? “I’m pretty sure every parent talks like this before the kid’s here, right?” Tony asked, giving a slight sniff. No one would purposefully ruin someone’s life. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, but …
But his mother had been his saving grace. Far from perfect, Maria was still there. She still held him, still whispered mio tesoro, still gave him something like heritage in Sicily. Zatanna was a million miles ahead of Maria Carbonell, so if his child was half of her, then that would win out against the others.
“You’ve never said that before.” His voice was quiet, so much so that it barely sounded like his own. “You never…” Drinking used to be fun. It was a way to let off steam, a way to celebrate, a way to bring the team together – and over the years it was associated with happiness in a way few other things were. “You’ve never implied it was a problem.” Until she was standing in front of him carrying his child. Until they were building for the future, and she obviously looked at him and thought, in some capacity, he turned up short.
It was a simple thing to ask. He was already moving homes. He would’ve given up almost anything if she’d asked – the suit was the only exception. But now … Now, it felt like the bottle had joined that list. “What if I don’t want to take that step?” he asked. “What if I … I don’t know who I am without it. At least now, I think I’d be, you know, good at this. I think if I worked, if I was … if I tried, I could be a good dad. But that other me might not be. You know what people are like for the first year of sobriety, and I …” Tony sucked in a breath. “No one’s liked me sober before. Not really.”
