Work Text
How
to explain this to Rhodey?
He had finished all the other notes. They were relatively brief, just little thank-yous and assurances that there's nothing they could have done. Helps with the blame, that kind of thing. He tried not to write too much to Peter, although that was difficult. But, he reminded himself, the kid doesn't want me around anyway. We haven't been quite getting along lately. So he convinced himself that Peter would be fine.
Pepper's had been a bit longer--they had a history, after all. He couldn't just leave her without some semblance of closure. But it, too, was filled with phrases like, "it's not your fault", "there's nothing you could have done", "you had no way of knowing", and other empty lies.
Was it their fault? No. No, it was Tony's fault, and his decision. But if he was honest, each of his teammates--some of whom he had ventured, in the past, to call friends--had played a role in bringing him to where he was now.
Tony closed his eyes for a short while, giving them a rest from the blank white screen which was supposed to be an explanation. When he opened them, he was looking at the sky. There were a few clouds, but the sky was mostly clear, and was a peculiar shade of blue. Tony couldn't remember seeing it before, anywhere else, but it seemed familiar. He felt a strange inclination to go flying, just to be closer to it.
But he didn't. Instead he sprawled out on the grass--there was grass now--and just looked at it. He appreciated its beauty, pondered its odd hue, but he eventually stopped thinking about it entirely and simply gazed at it. Nothing else seemed to matter at all.
It was peaceful.
What a change, he thought after a while. I could get used to this.
But then, with a surge of adrenaline, Tony remembered where he had seen the color before. His heart rate jumped dramatically as he fought to control his panic, clutching at the ground as if to hold himself down.
It was the wormhole. The blue that he had seen in space.
And the blue of Loki's scepter, of the infinity stone.
Tony felt his chest heaving, but couldn't calm himself down. The sky seemed to be pressing in on him, the air was heavy, it felt like he was being flattened against the ground--
He turned over to hide his face from the sky and the horrible blue color, but he found that the ground was no longer covered by grass. Instead, bodies were strewn everywhere, limbs pushing up out of the dirt.
Tony looked down. Steve's face looked back at him.
He tried to scream, but he couldn't hear anything. As he whipped his head around, frantic and losing focus, he saw everywhere the bodies of those he most wanted to keep alive.
He couldn't breathe. There's no air in space, you know, he thought.
No wonder I can't hear myself screaming.
With a start, Tony's eyes snapped open and he hurled himself out of his chair and up against the wall. He gasped for breath, trying desperately to lower his heart rate and to keep conscious. Slowly, he sank to the ground, shaking, releasing his hold on the wall and wrapping his arms around himself.
This, he thought. This is why. I can't take this anymore.
I'm not strong enough. I haven't slept for any significant length of time for probably a month and a half.
I feel delirious, I can't focus, and I don't have any appetite
. I just can't
function anymore. And there's nothing I can do about it!
At this point, Tony realized he had been yelling each thought that had flown through his mind. He was struck by how fragile his sanity seemed.
"Am I going nuts?" he asked softly. "Have I lost it already?" He paused for a moment, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, before shaking his head and turning to the screen again. "Ah, it doesn't make any difference at this point, anyway."
Tony sat back down and put his chin in his hands. What to say? What could he say? Could Rhodey ever really understand?
No matter. Tony felt he owed him at least an attempt at an explanation. Which was fine, except for the fact that no words would come to mind.
He knew that Rhodey had his own problems. Sometimes Tony would get to hear about them. Although most of Tony's personality around others was an elaborate construction, when Rhodey was vulnerable, Tony felt like he could be too. So he would let the walls down for a while, and would just be there for his friend.
I'll miss that, he thought, surprising himself a little. Yeah...I will.
And then Tony began to type, putting his heart into the screen while it was still beating.
Rhodey,
You'll be getting this note tomorrow morning, if my programming skills are good for anything. First off, I feel like I should say, it's not your fault. At all.
In fact,
out of everyone, you're the last person I'd blame. If I was blaming anyone except myself.
Which...I guess I am, a little bit. Forget it, I'll just be
vulnerable. This is the one time I can do that and not have to worry about the aftermath.
So, I am kind of blaming other people too. Of course, I told them all the same empty phrases I was planning on telling you (but I couldn't follow through on that. You deserve more). You know, "what could you have done?", "you couldn't have known"--all that jazz.
But they could've.
If they'd paid attention, maybe they would have noticed. I'm good at hiding
things, but it's been pretty darn obvious that I've been messed up since New York. Then Ultron happened, and now there's this new threat hanging over our heads. I'm freaking out about it, trying to protect everyone, and I'm not succeeding.
They could've asked. At least once! I mean, come on, I was having panic attacks almost every day, and not ONE of them bothered to ask how I was doing.
Except you, of course. Which is why I'm writing you this.
They had the
gall to live in my building, take up my time, cost my money--I'm giving it almost entirely to charity, by the way, with a bit for you and Pepper, and Peter of course--and even presumed to call themselves my friends. But when I needed them, no one noticed.
They could have. Maybe that would have made a difference.
Or maybe not. We'll never know. But regardless, I've made my
decision. And I--
The door opened suddenly, startling Tony, and he jerked his head up in surprise. His stomach dropped. Of course.
Who else but Rhodey would be standing there?
Tony slipped--seamlessly, he hoped--into his practiced persona. "Hey, Rhodey," he said lightly, twirling in his chair and ever so casually flicking the screen away. "What's new?"
"Nothing much," said Rhodey. He sounded like he was trying to be upbeat, but his voice had a distinct strain in it.
Tony looked at him, a hint of worry in his eyes. "Something up? You sound stressed."
"Nah, Tones, it's fine. Nothing about me." He paused for a moment. "What've you been up to? I saw you working on something as I came in."
Tony's heart skipped a beat, but he feigned nonchalance. "Oh, just some project or another. It's nothing important really, but you know, sometimes I indulge myself." He threw a grin over his shoulder at Rhodey as he twirled his chair around again, hoping that would convince him that everything was fine.
"Can I see it?" asked Rhodey, trying and failing at sounding natural.
Tony stopped spinning. "Well, actually, I haven't finished it yet. It's still really rough, and I'd hate for you to get a bad impression--"
"I don't mind," Rhodey cut in. "I'd really just like to see it."
"Uh," began Tony, trying to come up with some excuse to avoid reopening the screen, but even as he floundered he saw his friend's face fill with an incredible sadness.
"It's true then," said Rhodey softly. "Oh my God, Tones, you really are planning..."
"What? What are you talking about?" asked Tony, growing a little panicked. How had Rhodey--
"Do you think I'm stupid, Tony?!" he snapped. "You really thought I wouldn't notice how odd you were acting? I had my suspicions for a while. Then FRIDAY contacted me about some of the documents you were creating. You've been writing good-bye notes! Planning to--to kill yourself!"
Rhodey fell silent, wiping his eyes on the back of his arm. Tony was quiet too. The silence stretched on.
"Why, Tones? What got you here?" Rhodey said suddenly.
Tony blinked, surprised. He glanced up at the man standing in front of him, but immediatly looked away, unable to meet Rhodey's eyes.
He took a breath. "I've been having nightmares," he began, his voice tight. "After New York. For a while they got better, but now with whatever this new thing is...I haven't slept in what seems like forever, and I feel like I'm going crazy. Everywhere I look--" Tony broke off, his face filled with pain and shame.
Rhodey waited quietly.
"It's there," Tony whispered at last. "I can't get away from it. I get so stressed out whenever I even think of it, I can barely function." He took a shaky breath.
"I can't keep doing this, Rhodes! I can't!" Tony's eyes flashed up to Rhodey's, although Tony didn't want them to.
Rhodey was crying.
"Oh, no, no, don't do that, don't--" began Tony, getting up and reaching out to his friend.
"Tony..." breathed Rhodey, his voice breaking just like his heart was. Tony timidly placed a hand on his arm. "Tony, I want to help you."
Tony stood there, trying to process what was going on and what the appropriate response would be.
Rhodey looked at him. "What can I do to help you keep living?"
There was silence. Eventually, Tony met Rhodey's eyes. He noticed, with a hint of surprise, that there seemed to be as much pain in them as Tony felt.
"This," Tony whispered at last. "Keep doing this."
Rhodey wrapped his arms around Tony and held him close.
"You are never gonna do this to me again, Tones, you hear?" he said softly into Tony's ear. "Next time you get to a bad place, you tell me. That place sucks beyond words, and I don't want to see you in it."
Tony realized that Rhodey seemed to be speaking from experience.
"Yeah, I have," Rhodey answered the unspoken question. "A lot of soldiers do. I'm no exception. But the thing is, Tones, I got past it. I'm not saying I don't have bad days, because I do, and there are a lot of them. I haven't gotten past the pain, and I don't know if I ever will. But I got past this," he said, pulling away from Tony to roll up his sleeve.
There were many scars criss-crossing his wrists, some deeper than others. But none of them were new.
"I got past the worst of my PTSD. I got past my inability to walk after the accident. And I got past being suicidal. And I'm not saying you're stronger than me," he added with a small smirk, "but if I can do it, you can too."
Tony stood, staring, at this part of Rhodey that he had never seen before. And he listened.
"Find something to live for. Something to keep you going. I don't know what that might be, but I can help you look for it. All I'm asking, Tony, is that you talk to me. Don't get here again!" Rhodey's voice shook at the last sentence.
"I care about you, Tony. You're my friend. So talk to me."
Rhodey locked eyes with Tony and said, "Because if I lose you...then I'll have lost most of what keeps me going."
Tony just stood there, eyes slowly filling with tears, hoping Rhodey wouldn't notice.
But he did. Who was Tony kidding? Rhodey always noticed.
The two broken men embraced again. "Promise me, Tones--never again," said Rhodey, his voice gentle but firm.
"Ok," Tony breathed. "Ok. Never again."
"Promise?"
Tony laughed softly, though he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was relief.
"I promise."
"Good," said Rhodey abruptly, pulling away. "Now delete those notes. Nobody needs them anymore."
Tony grinned and walked towards the screens, but Rhodey caught his arm.
"Wait--actually, let me read mine first." There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"No! I told you it's not finished! I'll show you when it's done, I have to perfect the love poem I'm putting in," Tony said with a sly smile.
"Aw, Tones, I'm touched," deadpanned Rhodey as Tony began to twirl in his chair.
With each flick of Tony's wrist, another note was brought up and swiped away, never to be seen again.
It felt good. A strange kind of peaceful, even.
I could get used to this, thought Tony. Rhodey seemed to be thinking the same thing.
That night, for the first time in a very long while, Tony slept soundly.