There'd been a time when Tony, having had his fill of the public arguing that he was going soft and liberal, and that he was trying to sweep his war profiteering under the carpet, between the people decrying him both a national hero and a threat to national security, between Steve and Thunderbolt and a rock and a hard place, that Tony might have wanted to argue that it wasn't just his name, that it was a company, one he'd never started, only slotted into his place in.

But that part had died with the photo of a boy he kept in his wallet and the death of half the universe. The guilt was on his shoulders. Ignorance wasn't and had never been an excuse. And yet.

"Wanda. Wanda I didn't know. I didn't know Obie was double dealing. Christ, that's a war crime. You have to believe that I never knew. If I had, I would have done something. Before it was too late."

Tony held a hand over his eyes for a moment and took a breath. He was making it about himself again. He was filled with anger and loss and a sort of hurt he'd never recovered from, and kept inflicting on the people around him.

"I'm sorry. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything. You just want me to know. Now I know."

The knowledge was a burden, but one he'd been meant to bear for too long and hadn't.