Work Text
The pull on Tony’s mind went unnoticed. Something ached at his skull, deep in the base. As if someone has taken hold of his brain stem and begun to pull.
Images flashed through his mind, quick and shaky, almost nonexistent. Memories that didn’t exist. Flashes of space that made Tony struggle to pull in a breath. Weak flickers of Cap laying limp and bloodied at his feet.
Nothing took hold.
Tony groaned slightly, stumbling as he drooped forward. Reality was tangible around him, albeit confusing. It was his fault, really, rushing into a battle without any sleep in the last few days. He’d gotten a few hours, but sleep had begun to elude him again. Pepper no longer laid beside him at night. He figures soon that she won’t lay beside him at all anymore.
He couldn’t fix the EXTREMIS virus that roared through Pepper’s veins. At night, when she dreamed of the pain, she’d burned their mattress and Tony himself. The suit had hovered above them again, the suit that Tony had promised not to rebuild. Mark XLV. They hadn’t been able to be next to each other in bed, too afraid of themselves and one another.
Tony sighs harshly through his nose and rubs his forehead. He pulls a deep breath, the ache of the arc reactor heavier in his chest than ever before. Unremovable, now, imbedded into Tony as if a part of him. The shrapnel was too big, the doctors had said. With all the damage from the battery, and the various upgrades of the arc reactor, it had migrated closer. Scar tissue had grown around the injury, and around the reactor itself. Worst of all, the electromagnet was never meant to be exposed to an organ so long, it wasn’t ever meant to be. The structure of Tony’s heart had changed, built itself to withstand and survive, along with his struggling lungs. It was changed, and the removal of the reactor would likely mean the failure of the organ itself, as well as the organs around it.
It really was a part of him now.
With another heavy sigh, Tony shakes off the thoughts. He glares at the blue, glowing scepter in front of him. It was likely the source of his discomfort. The source of the ache in his skull and the flashes in his mind. At least the reactor defended him from this, and protected him from the pull.
He reaches out and grabs ahold. The scepter is heavy in his hand, a low thrum burning at his veins. As if the weapon itself wanted to reach out and grab onto Tony. The man shakes his head and grips it harder.
“Cap, I have the objective. Let's get outta here,” Tony huffs into the coms, rubbing his eyes as a flash of red flickers in the corner of his vision. When he looks over, there’s nothing there.
He needs a nap.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Tony needs to build a suit around the world.
The idea, the real, feasible plan strikes him a week after the scepter is in their hands. He shows the inside, the scan of the strangely glowing stone, to Bruce. He nods along and eagerly agrees as the other scientist says that it looks like a brain.
It is a brain.
It’s
Ultron
.
The ultimate defense system for them all. Protection, safety. Peace in their time, he tells Bruce, who seems reluctant. Tony knows he can win him over, knows just the idea will be enough. Curiosity killed the Banner, after all (or so Tony says).
It was Tony’s chance to hang up
his
suit for good, to get Pepper back and keep her this time.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
It doesn’t work, until it does.
It doesn’t work until it's staggering up to Tony’s penthouse, dripping oil like blood across his floor. Its body drags too well, too human-like. As if it's given itself nerves, it staggers and lulls, unable to tiredly limp its way towards them. Something curls sickly in Tony’s stomach, seeing his creation tortured and torn like this. He would have built Ultron a beautiful body, had he known it wanted one so badly. Had he known it existed. It would not have had to be so pained.
The creation’s many creations burst through the walls, attacking the enemy. The Avengers, the
enemy
. It feels wrong, yet true, and blooms like a seed taking root. Destruction follows them, Tony knows. They inspire destruction, using violence for peace. He, himself, has created a weapon for peace, after swearing to never be a weapons producer again. After fighting to destroy the weapons that HYDRA had hidden in SHIELD. Like a loop, he kept returning to his roots, no matter how he tries to escape them.
Killers, it called them, seeming confused and upset by the world around it.
They fight it, while Tony wrestles with the deep ache of having created something so angry and scared of the world. How could anyone have children? How could anyone create something that was meant to feel pain?
Tony could swear he hears an old cartoon song as Ultron flees. A song of strings from a boy wanting to be real. He thinks he remembers watching it as a child, liking it.
Extinction, Rage, Death.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Vision is born, whole and worthy and beautiful. Made of JARVIS and magic no one could quite understand. Vision carries JARVIS with him, but Tony aches like he’s gone. Nothing will be quite the same again without J, who’d he’d loved like a father, a brother, and a son. Vision, who calls him Mister Stark, and not Sir. Vision, who blinks and gazes around like a newborn with too much consciousness.
Vision, who lifts Thor’s hammer without blinking, unaware of the power he wields so easily inside him.
This, Tony realises, is the answer to his question. Vision is why people dare to create more people, to bring children into the world. Vision is beautiful, and Tony is proud. Proud of the amazing creation he’s made. That he will, hopefully, be able to mould and assist while the bionic discovers the world around it. When everything is over, Tony will let himself be proud, and he will guide Vision. Even if his creation isn’t what he intended, he feels pride.
Vision says he’s on the side of life, gazing around with the same confusion Ultron had borne. Yet, his confusion does not come with rage, but rather, interest.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
The fight is long and dragging, yet over in an instant. Tony stares at the wreckage of his creations, strewn along the ground. The destruction of the city is expansive, homes utterly ruined. He tells FRIDAY to dispatch the relief they’ll need, sickness aching within him again. How had he failed so greatly at peace that he’d only wrought more destruction?
Tony gives like a building falling, sighs as he pulls back from the team. He can’t keep doing this. Not to himself, and not to Pepper. She deserved more, better. She deserved for him to try harder to give this all up, even if the reactor was killing him day by day.
He jokes about building her a farm.
He walks away.
He goes home to her, and he begs, cries into her chest, stilted apologies and pleas. He sinks down to his knees and murmurs another exhausted, ashamed apology, while her arms hold him fast. They fall into bed only to sleep curled around each other, even when Pepper gets too hot and Tony wakes with his fists raised again.
Something shifts and the both of them know it. Tony strokes her face and grips her shoulders, ignoring the way his hands burn. He buries his face into the crook of her shoulder and tries to make himself small, the sting of her heat against his face. She cools as she wraps her arms around him, cradling him to her.
“I can’t do this anymore, Tony, and I..” Pepper sighs as Tony grips her harder, pressing closer as if that can stop the blade from falling.
Her hand tilts his face up, and he lets it. There is no shame in his softness, not here. “I don’t think you can, either.”
He shakes his head. “No, no, It's- I did. I stopped.”
“You’re hiding suits from me, Tony. We’re hiding from each other, and I can’t take it,” Pepper whispers, voice tight. In the near darkness, they are only lit by the warm orange that glows under Peppers skin.
He can see the freckles along her ivory skin. He sees the flush growing around her eyes as she tries not to cry. She’s like an open wound in front of Tony, bleeding too heavily for him to stop it.
He wonders if she sees him the same way.
“I can fix it. I can- I have to- I need to fix
everything
,” Tony insists, shaking as he desperately tries to explain himself.
How can he tell her anything? How could he let her know when it had gotten her destroyed once already? It had torn them both apart, he needed time to fix it. He could put them back together, he
could
, if she just
let him.
If she just gave him
time
.
“Don’t leave me, Pepper, don’t. I love you; I’ll keep you safe,” Tony begs, his arms too tight around her. It must ache, he knows it must, but he can’t bring himself to let go. She might slip away from him again, and he can’t take the thought. His voice shakes as he pleads, “I’ll fix it. Just give me more time, I’ll fix it.”
“You’re just one man, Tony,” Pepper whispers, shushing him with a light kiss when he tries to object to that fact.
The redhead curls in close and presses her cheek against the top of his head. It feels like resting his forehead against the warm oven, while Jarvis (the original) had baked him warm cookies in the dark of the night. The butlers' common nightmare cure-all of hot milk and fresh pastry. “It’s okay Tony, it's okay. I forgive you for being one man, I forgive you for not fixing the world.”
Tony does not sob, but it is a hard task. He pushes upwards like a cat, pressing his forehead into her cheek more. “I can make it better,” He insists, though it comes out more like a plea.
“I’m not leaving you, Tony. I’ll never leave
you
.” Pepper whispers, running her fingers through Tony’s short hair. “I love you.”
“I just can’t love you like this anymore, and that's okay, right?” Her voice is soft, as she sways them stiffly where they sit. It seems instinctive, and perhaps it is. The instinctual urge to rock for comfort, like a mother's womb and arms would sway. Her head moves and Tony looks up, realising by her blurred figure that the burn in his eyes is tears.
“Will you make me stay?” She whispers. Tony can feel the genuine pain in the question. It's truthful and real, and Tony knows she’d stay like this if he asked. They might destroy each other, like stars clashing and destroying everything around them. Yet, she would stay, even miserable. They both know it.
Tony shakes his head.
“I can’t- I don’t want to be alone in this house,” Tony murmurs, tucking himself back down. He knows he’ll lose this; he’s giving up being held. She’s breaking up with him, so she’ll never cradle him again. He’ll be cold.
“I’m not leaving Tony. I’m not,” Pepper insists, holding him just slightly tighter, “I just- no romance. We’re still us, I just-”
The woman makes a frustrated noise, and Tony presses closer. He holds her right back, just as hard. He hopes he makes her warm too. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t understand what she’s asking for, because he’ll give it to her. He’ll give her the world exactly how she wants it, he can make a place for her that's perfect.
“Yeah, we’re still us,” Tony agrees.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It's odd, being back. He’s been hiding away with Pepper, watching the Avengers from afar. Joining in when they need him, before rushing home to make sure Pepper is still alive and their home is intact.
EXTREMIS has been stabilized in her now, with all of Tony’s attention focusing on his dearest friend. The great love of his life that he still adored. She was right, he thinks, as usual. Without the sex and the fighting between them, the desperate attempts to lock each other into safety and a joined future, they were just them.
Tony was confused, a bit. She still kissed him, still held him. She’d lay with him some nights and pull him from the shop when he stayed too long. Rhodey appeared more, joining them in bed sometimes. Platypus had been punched squarely in the jaw the first night, for grabbing Tony while he thrashed. Tony was angry and scared, he lashed out and tried to shove Rhodey from his bed, accusing things he couldn’t remember now. Instead of anger, his two dearest friends had sandwiched Tony between them and slept the rest of the night warmed by Pepper.
Pepper was still Tony’s Pepper, was the problem. He didn’t know where the lines lay. Usually that wouldn’t be a problem, he’d never cared about rules anyway, but he wanted to respect what she needed. Everything and nothing had changed.
Base was the same way. Vision floated around confused, unsure. Not quite a machine, and not quite a person. Stuck somewhere between knowing everything in the world, and nothing about it; the Bionic simply seemed to trail and mimic those around him. Mostly, he seemed drawn to Thor and Wanda, which Tony supposed made sense. Those were the other two that might be the most alike to Vision, who might be able to help him understand his place in the world.
Vision often glances at Tony when he does something, seeking praise that Tony rewarded as often as he could. The billionaire was often left trying not to snicker when Vision mimicked his facial features or posture. It was unbelievably endearing. The bionic often watches Tony furrow his brow and then exaggeratedly repeats the look, nodding along to whatever his creator said in a mock-up of the man's own posture.
Tony still tried to avoid being at the compound too much, having said he was done doing this. He had been helpless to avoid reintegrating himself, however, especially after his and Pepper’s break up. So far, he mostly avoided missions, as he wasn’t needed much anyways. He stuck to staying out of sight, creating and upgrading the team's gear. He was in charge of surveilling threats and keeping an eye on the known ones. Tony also worked on their media presence and the public appearances, galas, and relief foundations.
It was hard work, and it consumed most of his days, but it kept him from thinking about the pain that continued to grow in his glowing chest. Medication soothed the anxiety that often tried to steal Tony’s breath. He was okay on the sidelines.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Tony’s heart was pounding. The presentation had gone well, it really had. The students had been thrilled to have their grants and work all paid for, thanking Tony with eager grins. Even the presentation of B.A.R.F. had gone well, even if it had made Tony taste bile. He’d known Pepper had cancelled ahead of time, so when her screen had popped up, Tony had easily made her excuses with a smile.
Then, he’d run into Mrs. Spencer. He’d looked at the image of a young man, dead by the effects of his own hand. As the woman had walked away, Tony had been left staring at the floor with pain aching up his chest. He coughs a few times and rubs the reactor, before completely devolving into a coughing fit that left his head spinning. His hands shook as he called Pepper.
He didn’t say anything. The phone rang and Pepper picked up, but Tony had just hung it up again, unsure what to say. He goes back to the compound in a daze. When he gets the call from the Secretary of State, he nods along and agrees to the meeting, resting his head against the steering wheel of his car for a long moment.
The Accords are presented to them, and Tony can’t feel anything except relief. It wasn’t a suit around the world, but it felt reassuring. He just wanted to stop killing people. His fingers tap against his chest as the others speak, tapping a rhythm against the arc reactor. It always made an echo in the tube of metal buried within his chest, right behind the arc reactor. A vibration right against his heart, it helped him remember he was still alive.
He’s still in a daze when they retreat to the main room of the compound, laying back on the couch and rubbing his eyes. Thoughts flit rapidly through his head. This was the right decision, wasn’t it?
Tony was the last one to agree with the government, the very last to every hand over any of his own power. But it wasn’t like they were hopping into bed with SHIELD-HYDRA again. This wasn’t the same thing, and Tony certainly wasn’t going to start making weapons again or hand over his tech.
This was accountability. Exactly what Tony kept striving for constantly. He kept trying to fix things, to find a way to keep everyone safe. This had to be the answer.
He pulls up the image of Charles, silently pleading that one of them sees this the way he does. He tells them about him, about this brilliant, lost life they should have nurtured and not taken.
(
Charles Spencer. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. Spent his summer building sustainable housing for the poor in Sokovia. DEAD.
)
The others looked guilty, some ashamed enough to turn their eyes. Steve doesn’t turn his face despite the wince he bears. He doesn’t understand. Steve argues that it only shifts the blame, and tells Tony he’s wrong, despite everything that's happened. Relief comes in the form of Rhodey on his side, but Steve still won’t hear a word of it before he rushes away.
Tony goes back to tapping the arc reactor.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
James Buchanan Barnes, suspected of domestic terrorism. Tony’s head really hurts. Steve is pissed at him already, having already decided that Tony is wrong and that’s the end of it.
There’s nothing that Tony can do to stop Cap when the man goes after his lost friend, so he does his best to back him up. He brings Steve back home, and Bucky too, even if the Winter Soldier is confined to a cell. Just until he’s cleared, or at least, proven innocent by proof of brainwashing. Tony covers Cap by promising repercussions for everyone involved, then hangs up and grins at his teammate.
Then Steve is furious again. About Tony’s ‘imprisonment’ of Wanda, about Bucky’s legitimate imprisonment, about the Accords again.
Tony is tired. He is so,
so
tired.
He’s fielding a hundred calls and reallocating funds into the hospital bills that Barnes and Steve caused, as well as the explosion. He’s running on spite and coffee, and far too many painkillers he wishes he hadn’t slipped into the habit of taking again.
He wasn’t drinking, he tried using that to reassure himself. He wasn’t falling back into addiction, not really. He was just in pain. It just hurt. He could stop if he needed to, he didn't need the pills.
The power goes out, and Cap takes Barnes.
Tony is so tired.
“FRIDAY, show me the kid again.”
Peter Parker is an enhanced, and a very impressive one. A skinny little high school brat who could sling around webs and climb walls. He called himself Spiderman while he hopped around in a homemade, Halloween costume of a suit. Tony loved it.
The kid was smart, which Tony appreciated. He participated in band and the newspaper club, and a silly little trivia team that he was brilliant at. Tony was incredibly impressed by the boy, intrigued the same way he had been when he met Harley. It was a thing for him, really. Seeing young boys that were like him, with skill and intelligence, held down by something or fighting to get to the top. He wanted to help them, wanted to nurture their genius until they overtook him.
Everyone always assumed that Tony had to be at the top of the totem pole and had to be the smartest in the room. In reality, Tony loved people that were smarter than him. He thrilled in working with them and being outsmarted, in having someone to work with instead of talking over. Peter Parker was impressive, and Tony wanted to indulge that.
Unfortunately, they’d have to start out a little rough.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
May is a blast. She’s absolutely gorgeous and her humor is whip-sharp. In a different time, Tony might have taken her to bed and let himself be wrapped up in that wit for a night. These days, he can tell the difference between hypersexual attraction and simple intrigue, so he just flirts and laughs with her until Peter gets home.
The teen seems confused – which, fair; Tony Stark was sitting on his couch.
He smirks and greets the kid, flirting with May between bites of a (
rather bland
) date loaf. When he finally manages to pull Peter into the other room, he spits the dry bread out with a frown.
“That’s you, right?” Tony asks bluntly, flicking his phone to project images of Spider-boy thwipping around.
“Uhm- No. NO. Wh-what do you mean?” Peter splutters, awkwardly crossing his arms and attempting to look bigger.
(
It doesn’t work. The kid is fairly tall, but he’s still an awkward little twig. Tony is not even slightly intimidated.
)
“Yeah,” Tony deadpans, “Look at you go. 3000 pounds, 40 miles an hour. That’s not easy. You got mad skills.”
Peter stammers out a response about fake videos, things made on YouTube. Tony just nods along boredly and tugs a string on the ceiling that causes the wimpy suit to drop down from the ceiling. The kid yelps and lunges forward impressively fast, snatching up the suit and trying to hide it in his crossed arms.
Tony hums slightly, raising an eyebrow as he gestures to the teen. “So. You're the . . . Spider . . . ling. Crime-fighting Spider?”
“You're Spider-Boy?”
“I-I’m Spider-Man.” Peter mumbles, petulant and pouting. It makes Tony smirk in amusement.
“Not in that onesie, you're not.”
Tony exchanges a few more jokes and jabs, mostly at the poor kid's expense. He teases, prodding at the weakest points he can find to get the answers he wants. It's pathetically easy, as the kid is young and scared, unsure of himself. Especially in the face of an impressive and well-known hero who happens to know his secret. Peter admits that all he wants to do is look out for the little guy, he just wants to help. He wants to stop making bad things happen, he tells Tony, and it aches at something in Tony’s chest. Something that was supposed to be tucked away behind an electromagnet, safe and sound.
He calls Peter Spider-Man and watches the boy light up. It feels good, even though he regrets what he's about to involve the kid in.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Tony doesn’t process a word that Steve throws at him. The man tries to invoke Tony’s pity, to say the physiatrist has caused this all, and has set Barnes off. Even if that was true, Tony couldn’t help either of them unless they went through the proper channels. That was the way to do this. This whole fight was the problem, they needed to talk and agree.
It isn’t long before his patience wears thin. Peter steals Cap’s shield and they are off to the races. Weapons fly: blasts, repulsors, and arrows everywhere. Tony focuses on dodging and deflecting, trying to work his way closer to Barnes. If he can get to the Winter Soldier, he can get Capsicle to follow, and Bird-Brain will surely follow them both.
He lets Peter chase them through the building as he gets tossed around. A man crawls into Tony’s suit and Tony feels intense panic grip him. Ice cold terror grips at his veins, feeling somehow violated by the idea of someone in his suit. It was wrong, it shouldn't happen. What if Lang had gotten into his reactor? Could he have stopped Tony’s heart?
Tony uses the fire suppression system to eject the insect, immediately attempting to put distance between them. He feels clammy in his suit, but he tries to push it down. He needed to focus.
The fight continues to escalate, supers everywhere and throwing everything into trying to stop one another. Peter goes down, thrashing in fear as Tony darts to his side. The teen seems concussed, and Tony tells him to stay down. He asks FRIDAY to divert some of his own power to surveilling the kid from afar, just to keep his eyes out for danger.
When Steve and Barnes make a break for the hanger, Tony attempts to follow. Vision aims and misses.
Rhodey falls like Icarus.
Nothing in the world is fast enough to dive after him, even though Tony desperately tries. His heart pounds and air rushes around him fast enough to infiltrate his slightly damaged suit. The pressure is heavy against his chest. It doesn’t matter. Tony tucks his limbs and tries to be faster.
Rhodey hits the ground, and Tony is pretty sure the world ends at that moment. He wants to scream. He wants to
murder
everyone here, to tear them apart. If his brother is dead, he thinks nothing will stop him.
He slows his own descent and drops to his knees at Rhodey’s side, breath shaking. His faceplate retracts before he can think about it, and he immediately yanks his best friends’ open.
“Read vitals,” Tony breathes, words hardly auditory.
He prays. He prays to every god he can think of, pleading to things he doesn’t even believe in for help. FRIDAY tells him that Rhodey is alive, that medical care is on its way; but it does nothing to relieve the roar of blood in Tony’s ears.
He can’t breathe, because Rhodey’s down and the world is ending and he doesn’t think he was even this afraid when he fell from the sky himself. It doesn’t matter what Wilson tries to say, Tony blasts him in the face without looking up. He curls himself around his Rhodey, trying to protect his brother from anything else in the world.
Tony Stark
hates
Steve Rogers.
He
hates
James Barnes, and stupid Captain America who Tony grew up hearing about in his father’s every other sentence. Tony
hates
aliens and the arc reactor in his chest, he
hates
gravity that had let Rhodey fall, and friction that hadn’t let Tony follow. He
hates
the Accords that caused this fight, and he
hates
Vision for missing.
Tony hates and
hates
and
hates
while he waits for an ambulance.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
It's very hard to not snap at Vision, the bionic looking guilty in a pained way that showed he didn't understand it. Vision admits his distraction like a plea, and Tony grits his teeth to not berate his creation. He snaps his gaze away from the sight of Rhodey, limp and terrified in a CT. Tony stalks away furiously, unsure whether he’s trying to avoid puking or bursting into tears like his drunken, 15-year-old self might have. He wants to hold Rhodey's hand, so he walks away.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Barnes is not the man they’re after, and Tony immediately tries to fix his mistake. People may call him egotistical, but he is not a man to hold a grudge when he needs to let go. When it's time to do the right thing, he forgets his opinion and fixes his mistakes. He despises Barnes and Steve both at the moment, because Rhodey lays alone and paralysed in a hospital cot, but he won’t let them go down for what they haven’t done.
More importantly, he won’t let the real enemy go free.
He goes to the raft and grits his teeth, fury pumping through him. None of the Avengers were supposed to end up here, not ever. It was a soulless place that didn’t line up at all with the base ideas behind the Accords. It was cruel, and Maximoff was collared like a mutt. The cells hardly had basic amenities, and despite what transpired, Tony did not want this for people he considered his friends.
CIint taunts Tony, teeth clenched and eyes wild. Some mix of genuine rage at the situation and the helplessness of a trapped animal; as well as being separated from everyone he called family. He mocks and jabs, even making a thinly veiled comment that Tony was responsible for Rhodey’s condition.
Tony just lets his brain go fuzzy around the edges, trying to ignore Clint for both their sakes. He couldn’t help Cap if he was too busy
bashing
in Barton’s face.
Squaring himself in front of Wilson’s cage, he states his case, gleaning just enough information to find the soldier boys. He leaves as quickly as he can, booking it across continents in an attempt to get there before it's too late.
His mistake.
He gets Barnes to lower his gun and greets Steve like an old friend. (
They are and they aren’t. They're something worse, something harsher and more grating.
)
A man who calls himself Zemo talks to them through enforced glass, proudly showing off the fact that he’d killed a fleet worth of super soldiers. He directs Tony’s attention to a gritty little screen. Tony almost makes a joke about it, before he sees a familiar road. He watches as his fathers face tilts up, soft and too scared for a man that had often raised his own hands to smaller people. He seems so confused that something inside Tony balks.
“Sergeant Barnes?”
It's frightened and weak, with a note of hope underneath the injured slur that painfully reminds Tony his father was a real, living man. Mom screams out Howard's name, pleading and terrified.
Barnes’ fist slams into Howard’s face again and again, before dragging his limp body to the destroyed car. He drops the man's face on the steering wheel without an ounce of gentleness. Tony looks away as grief rushes over him like an overwhelming wave. It feels like his head is being forced underwater again.
When he circles around to the other side of the car, Tony wants to scream. He wants to sob and beg, nausea rolling in his stomach at the sight of his mom’s trembling form. His hands shake at his side, wanting to destroy the monitor but unable to move. He can’t look away as his motionless (
paralysed like Rhodey, damaged and unable to move? Or paralysed like Tony, unable to turn away?
).
Barnes doesn’t hardly blink as he strangles Maria. She cries, too silent, unable to draw breath even as tears roll from her eyes. A bullet hits the camera, and it feels like it rips through Tony too.
“Did you know?” Tony whispers, something between a plea and an accusation.
He doesn’t want to imagine that Steve had betrayed him this badly. A man he had just begun to imagine as a friend, that he had worked so hard to see outside of the lens of a hateful, abused child who couldn’t stand his father’s idol.
“I didn’t... know it was him,” Steve emphasizes, hesitant.
“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers,” Tony snaps, but it isn’t as angry as he meant it to be. It comes out strained and hurt, tense with the raging sobs that he’s holding back. He grits out the next words though teeth clenched so tight he thinks he might crack one, “Did. You.
Know
?”
“Yes.”
Tony rears back. He hurts, and his world is upside down. His mind hurts as much as his body does, and FRIDAY had alerted him hours ago that his core was starting to fail him. He doesn’t even consciously make the decision to hit Steve. It just happens. He hopes he dies here, and maybe that's what he’s aiming for. His mother was dead. Every version of Jarvis was gone. Pepper didn’t need him anymore. Rhodes was laying half dead in a hospital because he tried to help Tony.
The world was worse for Tony ever having existed.
So, he fights. When all else fails, Tony fights. He drowns himself in sensation, until everything else faded away. He blasts and snarls, kicking hard enough that he feels Steve’s jaw crack. He doesn’t care. Nothing matters. Tony doesn’t care.
They drag each other into a stone platform, twisting and ripping at each other like rabid dogs.
“He killed my mom,” Tony snarls when Steve tries to defend Barnes.
Rogers and Tony thrash across the floor, exchanging blows so violently Tony thinks they may be genuinely trying to kill each other now. He throws Steve back, watching the super soldier hit the opposite wall and drop like a brick. Before he can advance, Barnes is grabbing his reactor and gripping so hard it crackles. It pulls away from his chest just slightly, and Tony starts to choke.
“Boss? Boss, your vitals are erratic. You need to flee
NOW
,” FRIDAY alerts, lights flashing around inside the metal cowl. Tony cannot breathe. He can feel the rapid pace flutter of his heart struggling in his chest. Pain lights him up from the inside, an inferno burning inside his chest.
He’s dying.
He knows, he’s felt this before. He felt this when he dragged himself across the floor of his home, after Obie had betrayed him. The ache in his chest increases as he crumbles, managing to fire off a shot that blows off Barnes’ arm and releases it from its killing grip.
Every breath burns, pain stabbing through his chest. His muscles immediately start to falter with weakness. They ache, the full force of injury threatening to overtake him. He sways and blasts his repulsor blindly again, doing little more than attempting to keep Barnes and Rogers away from him. Tony coughs, and coughs again. His head is swimming, leaving him unable to think properly.
Tony struggles to his feet, trying to mask his life-threatening injury. He lunges for Steve again and is thrown to the ground. A boot rams into his face, too tactically made to be Rogers’. Tony looks up just in time to see Steve raise his shield. His hands fly up, defending his face.
He’s pale and clammy by now, struggling for breath. The shield slams down on his chest and Tony feels the impact before he even hears it. Agony rips through him so violently it steals every ounce of air from his lungs. The arc reactor is forced back into his chest, too deep now. Its whirring too fast and burning too hot; destroying the tissues underneath it and ripping apart the metal hollow meant to keep it from ripping into his organs.
Delirium grips Tony’s thoughts. It's hard to tell where he is, who he is. The world blurs as he screams raggedly, screaming and spitting at Steve as the man rips the shield from his chest again.
“That shield doesn’t belong to you!” Tony screams, blood bitter in his mouth. His words are slurred and agonised, but Steve hardly turns back. Barnes looks empty, hollow, as if he’s far away from here.
“My- My
father
m-made that! You don’t-” Tony coughs. He tries to roll over, tries to reach despite his raging words. He’s dying.
He’s
dying
and Steve won’t
look
.
“You don’t d-deserve it!”
The shield drops as Tony’s world starts to blur. Rogers is fading into the distance as black darkens around Tony’s vision.
FRIDAY is screaming in his earpiece, emotion that Tony didn’t know she’d grown. His head thunks against the ground with a cracking noise that would make him wince if he could possibly do it. Tony thinks he might be seizing, but he doesn’t know anymore. He's drifting far away, leaving his body behind as the darkness drags him down deep.
Tony Stark dies in a bunker, deep in Siberia.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Tony comes back to life in America.
All he knows is pain. Misery so horrible he thinks he may not actually be alive. He’s never believed in Hell, but he thinks he may be there now.
He’s burning alive, pain eating him from the inside out. It’s as if he’s being ripped apart again and again, heat like lava boiling through his veins. He tries to scream, but he’s not sure he makes a noise. He begs and wails, pleading to whatever is listening to spare him, or at least, let him die. That would be okay, he’s okay with dying now. If it was between dying and this
agony
, he chooses death.
He thinks someone might be talking to him at one point, which makes him think he’s alive. The voice is soft and feminine, filled with gentleness. He wants to turn towards it. He thinks it might be Mom, soothing him through a fever. Maybe, he’d snuck into dad’s workshop. Everything was a bad dream, he was just hurt from an invention. He was six years old, and Mama was singing to him and soothing his injuries away.
Everything else had to be a bad dream. Falling out of space, his head being forced down into water; it wasn’t real. It was a bad dream, and Mama was going to make it better. Even if Dad got angry, Mama would kiss the bruises away afterwards.
He thinks he screams as another wave of agony rolls over him, but the world is slipping away from him again. He wishes Mama would make it better already, he tries to beg her to, terrified and unsure if he even makes a sound.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Pepper sobs into her hands as Tony wakes up thrashing and screaming. His skin glows the same bright orange that has haunted her skeleton since her own infection. Tony, afraid to cry most of the time, screams and begs for them to kill him.
Pepper is the only one who can be near him in the enforced room, the only one who stood a chance if he ignited. If Tony went up in a ball of flames, Pepper wanted to go with him. She didn’t want to live in a world where Tony Stark no longer exists.
The redhead shatters to pieces when Tony begs for his Mother, pleading for her to help. Tony had screamed often, had faced death and torture while avoiding screams as often as possible. He’d often rather bite his tongue off than admit to pain, unless he was playing it off as a joke.
(
“Stark men are made of Iron”, He’d told her once, delirious from sleep deprivation and gripping her too tightly. He’d been hazy eyed and empty, fresh from a bath gone wrong, where’d he’d thrashed when his head slipped under. The man had mumbled it over and over while his head lulled, eyes red with tears that refused to fall.
)
“I’m here,” Pepper whispers to the boiling body, his hand gripped tightly in her own. His restraints pulled at him as he thrashed, unable to melt away from his blistering body. Pepper thinks the restraints are only making it worse, holding him down too much, but she knows he can’t thrash. It would be worse if he thrashed, if he fought against the world around him without any control.
So, she lies. She sobs and lies, leaning close to his head. Her lips graze his cheek, free hand coming up to stroke sweaty hair from his face. It's all she can do, to comfort him the way she wishes someone had soothed her during her own infection. She whispers sickly sweet lies, and even sweeter truths, in case he never wakes up again.
In case he never comes back to her, and she never has a chance to tell him.
“It’s okay, Mama’s here. It’s alright. Fevers make you healthy, baby, don’t they? It’ll chase the sickness away,” She sniffles, voice as soft as she can make it. Her forehead leans against his temple, pressed hard to the wet skin. Just for now, for this moment, Pepper could be Tony’s world, as long as he needed it. Mama Stark, his Pep, Rhodey, Jarvis. Anyone Tony needed; she could be.
She gazes at the wreckage of the reactor in his chest and sobs harder. It couldn’t be removed, it was jammed too deep, shattered too much. Rhodey had told her that Tony was lucky it hadn’t exploded inside him, and the man didn’t know why it hadn’t.
With a shaking voice, Pepper sings all the lullabies she can remember. She offers up reassurances and gentleness, stroking sweat soaked hair without disgust and pressing tear-stained lips to his clammy skin.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
When he wakes(
?
) again, the pain returns in full force. It's stronger now, the heat is burning him up from the inside. It’s like someone has taken out his heart and replaced it with a supernova, all consuming and too powerful to contain in one man
(boy? He isn’t sure. If mama was here, he had to still be a boy, yet he remembered being
more
).
It crests while he tries to scream, then doubles back through him like it's eating up his veins. He thinks he burns then, Tony Stark consumed until he’s no more than a memory.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Consciousness drifts back to him like the drip of a faucet. He aches all over, too weak to move. The drip continues, slowly filling the basin that is his brain. He’s hot, and his mouth is dry as if it’s been years since he had a drink. It takes a while (
he thinks
) to remember how to communicate with his body. He feels wrong, a little too heavy and a little too whole.
It’s like he’s been rewritten. Code destroyed and recreated in a mock-up of what had once been, an echo.
“Mama?” He croaks, reaching blindly with a weak hand for the soft voice that had whispered to him to scare away the fever. He can’t remember how to open his eyes, can hardly remember the mechanics of opening his own mouth to speak.
A whimper works its way free before he can stop it, before he can remember that
‘Stark men are made of iron’
, that they don’t cry.
Is that what he is? A man? A Stark?
He can’t remember. He thinks he might be.
A soft voice flows into his ears, directly next to his left one. It’s gentle and familiar, a comforting coo he knows he recognises, even if he isn’t sure where from. “Mama’s here, baby. I love you so much, it’s okay,” The voice whispers.
Mama
.
He thinks he remembers what Mama is. She’s a person. The first person, the most important. She is warmth and kisses; she is swaying arms and cool cream on bruises. He sighs and leans towards the Mama, even though he isn’t sure she’s his to have.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you. Mama’s got you.”
Something cold and wet presses against his forehead and he rears back as far as he can go. He doesn’t think he goes very far, his limbs feel heavy and weighed down. It’s like ice. Worse, it’s like water, and something about that scares him more.
(He isn’t sure what, that’s too far away right now.)
“No, Mama, don’,” He slurs out, trying to pull away.
The cold-wet-bad goes away and he feels relieved, relaxing back down into the hard lump he’s laying on.
‘Mattress,’
his mind supplies, weak and slightly offended. He’s on a mattress, but something is wrong with it. Whatever it is that’s wrong, he doesn’t know. He thinks he’d like to sleep again now, if that's alright.
The Mama’s Voice returns, as soft as before, “That’s okay, you can sleep.”
He hums softly, reassured. Even if he hadn’t meant to talk, the answer was nice.
“I’ll chase away the bad dreams. Bad dreams are scared of Mama,”
He thinks that must be true, because the Mama Voice says it.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Tony awakes again, and he’s sure it's awakeness this time. It comes with a burst of awareness. Memories flood back so quickly his head hurts.
That may not be the cause, Tony thinks his head hurt already when he woke up.
He remembers who he is and what happened to him. He remembers Afghanistan and Obidiah. He remembers Rhodey’s fall from grace. He remembers dying in a silo in Siberia, a shield crushing his screaming chest. Above all, he remembers that his mom is dead.
He must have been dead too, because he could swear he’d felt his mother’s hands stroking his face. The same way she’d done until he was eight, and Howard decided Tony was too old for it. The same way she would up until her death, in the dead of night, or when Howard wasn’t around to see the weakness she nurtured.
It takes a moment, but he pries his aching eyes open. The struggle to make them focus is intense, the lights of the room seeming so bright. Too bright. He wishes they’d lower.
When the lights dim, he wonders if he’d said that aloud. It was hard to tell.
Pepper is sleeping against his arm. Her head is heavy, making his nerves buzz at the lack of circulation. It alerts him that she’s been like that a while, which must be uncomfortable. Her red hair is sweaty and greasy, like she hasn’t showered in a while. Her skin is a warm orange, her internal heater seemingly running intensely.
She’s pale, he thinks, despite having the sun inside her. Her veins are clearer now, under the thin layer of almost sickly skin. With EXTREMIS in her veins, it shouldn’t be possible. Yet the orange-blue of her infected veins is stark under the ivory that's lighter than he remembers.
The hand gripping Tony’s is tight, even while Pepper sleeps. It's as if she’s utterly terrified to let go. Tony groans quietly, letting his head fall back again. He’s so fucking thirsty.
“Pep,” He wheezes. With a frown, he clears his throat and struggles to swallow with the lack of saliva in his mouth. His voice comes out weirdly, heavy and hoarse.
How long was he dead?
Tony weakly moves his arm, trying to nudge Pepper awake. He can hardly move, so she doesn’t stir. It doesn’t help that Tony seems to be completely strapped down. If he was less exhausted, that might panic him more.
He blinks slowly, then blinks again.
Is he... Wearing his helmet?
The world looks like his suit HUD. He weakly turns his head side to side. It doesn’t feel like his head is heavy or compressed enough for his helmet to be on, which leaves him even more confused.
“FRIDAY?”
“I’m here, boss,” The AI says, sounding so incredibly relieved that Tony feels guilty for having scared her. Strangely, her voice seems to echo directly through his skull, unlike when he wore an earpiece or had his helmet on.
Now she spoke as if she was folded into his brain itself, integrated into his thoughts.
“There’s my best girl,” He whispers, closing his eyes tiredly.
“Are you..” Tony croaks, smacking his lips together and running his tongue along his teeth, “Are you
in
me, FRI? I don’t understand.”
Tony’s voice is a low murmur, too weak to give little more than a whisper.
“That’s what she said,” FRIDAY chimes.
Laughter bursts forward from Tony. He shakes with it, even weak as he is. His girl was so smart, and learning so rapidly. More importantly, she had gotten his sense of humour. He laughs and laughs, tears filling his eyes from mirth. He laughs and he doesn’t start to cough.
Pepper stirs beside him, blinking herself away slowly. At first, she seems frightened. Her head pops up, eyes wide and frightened. The fear fades rapidly, making way for confusion, then relief. A shaking hand comes up, tracing Tony’s sweaty face with reverent gentleness. Pepper’s beautiful features are exhausted, so sad that Tony wants to bundle her in his arms. There are bags on her face, stress lines that shouldn’t be possible due to Extremis. It speaks to her level of exhaustion that those markers can exist.
“Tony?” She whispers, voice shaking and scared. It's as if she can’t believe he’s there, looking at him like he’s a memory she desperately wants to keep.
Tony nods, leaning into her hand and wishing he could lift his own to comfort her. “Yeah Pep, I’m here,” He whispers, wincing at the rawness of his throat.
“Did you brush my teeth with sandpaper while I was out, Pep? I swear, it’s like I d– drank the desert,” He jokes weakly, swallowing hard and offering up a trembling smile. He tries not to think about the crackle of his voice, the tremble as he tries to speak.
Pepper hardly smiles, and it steals the mirth from Tony. “How many days have I been gone, Pepper? Four?” Tony frowns, eyes searching her joyless face.
It's wrong. Everything is all wrong. Pepper shouldn’t look like this, hollowed out and exhausted. She looks like she’s lived a hundred years or seen horrors. Tony wants to take it all for himself. He wants to take it away from her. He could bear it, if she’d just smile again. Hell, he’d even take her berating him over this empty silence. Someone has stolen the life from his Pepper, and God damn it, Tony wants it back.
“Pep?”
“Over a month, Tony.” Pepper whispers, tears dripping so silently down her face it seems impossible.
He shakes his head weakly and looks away. “No, that can’t be-”
His voice breaks on a nervous laugh as he glances around, looking around for an answer that doesn’t exist. Desperately, he searches for any sign of time markers in the reinforced walls. His eyes hurt, his brain
hurts
. There’s too much information around him.
Glancing around earns him scans of his surroundings. Every drop of information about structure is fed into his brain quickly, processing like a computer that was going too fast. He can’t even manage to understand the information he’s being given, just squeezing his eyes shut to escape it.
“No, that’s- that’s wrong-
“FRIDAY?” Tony grits out, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as possible.
“FRIDAY? Oh, Tony, you’re still delirious, you aren’t in the suit honey,” Pepper murmurs, stroking his skin again. Tony shakes her hand off weakly.
“No-No- She’s- She’s in my mind. I heard her, I talked to her already,” Tony insists, wrenching his eyes open and searching Pepper’s face. The woman looks confused and incredibly concerned. There’s an air of defeat to her posture, like delirium was something she’d learned to accept.
“You guys implanted her, right? Or- or a chip of some sort?” Tony questions, even more upset now. He tries to pull against the bindings holding him down, “What’s in me, Pepper? WHAT THE
HELL
DID YOU PUT IN ME?!”
He’s screaming now, though he isn’t sure why. There’s something terrifying about having something forced into him again. Once, a car battery had held him together, and now something was inside him that make his skin ripple. It’s not heat, though he thinks it was before.
This feels like electricity.
Someone’s put lightning in his veins, they’ve changed him. He’s all
wrong
.
“
ANSWER ME!”
He roars, thrashing as widely as he can.
He wants to
breathe.
He wants
freedom
.
“
WHAT IS INSIDE ME, PEPPER?! WHAT DID YOU
DO?!
”
HIs voice is too hoarse to scream, but he does it anyway. He screeches until the bitter taste of copper hits the back of his teeth. But when he swallows hard, the blood is gone. It only heightens his panic, the too quick healing of something entirely inhumane. There were too many options, too many ways that they could have preserved him.
Pepper turns her face down and sobs, curls into herself with a weakness Tony thought her to be incapable of. His anger ebbs away, unable to hold in the face of her exhausted misery.
He swallows hard, forcing his anger down inside himself. His gaze searches her face. The anger melts completely, and when he speaks again, it's softer.
“Pep- Pep, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m- I’m not angry with you,” Tony whispers, looking at her with softness and supplication.
“You did whatever you had to do, right? You kept me alive, like you always have.”
Pepper nods miserably, looking half asleep where she stands. Her face screams devastation, like a kicked animal that can hardly take anymore.
Tony nods along with her, forcing his muscles to relax. “Yeah, you just did your job. Untie me, Pep, I’m okay now.”
Pepper doesn’t hesitate, though it isn’t clear whether it's desperation or trust that drives her. She doesn’t think, just listens. Trembling, thin hands undo the straps that hold Tony’s limbs down. When she finishes, she sways at his bedside, like she’s too tired to hold herself up anymore.
Tony flexes his stiff limbs, before silently reaching out for her. She clambers into his arms like a child, curling into his chest until the blue light of the reactor shines against her face
(It seems more pieced together than before, lines of pure white light holding it together like kintsugi)
.
Pepper might not have even been awake with how quickly she drops into unconsciousness. She curls against him, arms wrapped around Tony’s middle so tightly he can hardly breathe. It’s fine, he'd rather she cling then let herself empty out. He curls himself around her protectively and allows sleep to claim him too.
Darkness drags him back down again, more soothing in its presence. This time, he drifts away knowing that he’ll come back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“How’s Rhodey?” “He’s fine, Tony. Paralyzed below the waist, but fine.” Pepper huffs, grabbing Tony’s shoulder and pushing the man back down against the bed again. There’s a doctor hovering above Tony that seems intent on checking Tony out even though he is completely fine. He'd had a cheeseburger already, which really proved how well he was doing (Pepper claimed it couldn't count when he'd thrown it back up. She's wrong). That's really the only option, isn’t it? He’s been infected with Extremis, so he has to be fine now. “Well, how’s Spider-Boy? I really dragged him into that fight when he wasn’t ready, has someone checked him out?” Tony insists, pushing to sit up again. “Tony, will you lay down!” Pepper complains, worrying as she tries to shove him back onto his back. Tony catches her wrist and remains upright, searching her face. Again, scans take over every aspect of his vision. Taking in and cataloging every detail, every micro movement. It's almost too much information, it feels invasive to be able to do this. Rapidly, his brain catalogs Pepper’s every micro expression, tracking every emotion that flickers across her face and comparing it to previous images or videos. She looks nervous, and it doesn’t sit right with Tony. The way her lips curve just slightly downwards and the way her eyes dart rapidly to the left and then back to Tony. It all tells him that she’s telling him a lie, but he doesn’t know what . “FRIDAY, access Colonel Rhodes’ medical files, override code 2-2-6-5,” Tony speaks aloud, eyes narrow. The flood of too much information fills Tony’s mind so fast he can’t even hear FRIDAY’s affirmative confirmation. Files flicker past his eye, clicking rapidly and pulling up information that passes too quickly through Tony’s brain for him to consciously hold onto. Next, Peter Parker's files pop up, followed closely by Pepper’s. He greedily devours every ounce of information about their statuses, everything his completely unchecked mind could gain access to.
🗁
____________
RHODES, R. JAMES :
“RHODEY”
“PLATYPUS”
“HONEYBEAR”
(LT. COLONEL)
[ALIAS(ES): WAR MACHINE, IRON PATRIOT]
Race - Black Ethnicity - African American Assigned Sex - Male Gender - Male Weight - 108.9 kgHeight - 6’1” Age - 48 years Physical Characteristics include : short (coiled) brown hair, brown eyes, scar on the left arm (4 inches long – healed), scar on face (1 inch - healed). Current Status: Complete paralysis of lower extremities. Neuropathy of the fingers. Spinal crush injuries (L2-L4). Spinal fracture of the T7, T8, and T9 vertebrae. Posterior and anterior rib fractures of ribs 5, 6, and 8. Crush injuries to both scapula. Tib-fib fracture of the left leg. Shattered radius of the left arm. Minor (partially healed) skull fracture to the occipital bone. Resolved brain bleed. Suffering from depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Medications and Treatment: Morphine (10 milligrams every hour - more as needed). Rehabilitation therapy including - physical therapy, weight therapy, occupational therapy.
LABELLED : UNCOOPERATIVE
🗁
____________
POTTS, J. VIRGINIA:
“PEPPER”
“PEP”
“GORGEOUS”
[ALIAS(ES): RESCUE]
Race - WhiteEthnicity - European AmericanAssigned Sex - Female Gender- Female Weight - 49.5 kgsHeight - 5’ 5” Age - 44 years (chronological), 26 years (Physical) Physical Characteristics include : Long (straight) red hair, green eyes, freckles over 60% of all skin, identifiable birth mark on the left shoulder blade (rhombus in shape), no scars (results of EXTREMIS virus). Current Status: Infected with EXTREMIS virus (partially deactivated). Sleep deprivation evident. Last recorded sleep event - yesterday at 6:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. No REM cycle detected. Evidence of extreme anxiety. Medications and Treatment: None
LABELLED : AT RISK
🗁
____________
PARKER, B. PETER :
DEADNAME: (PARKER, D. PETRA)
“UNDEROOS”
“KID”
“SPIDER-BOY”
[ALIAS(ES): SPIDER-MAN]
Race - White Ethnicity - European AmericanAssigned Sex - Female Gender - Transgender Male Weight - 75.8 kgsHeight - 5’ 10” Age - 15 years Physical Characteristics include : Short (wavy) brown hair, hazel eyes, moles in various locations of the body (placements unknown), scar on the left side of torso (deep scar tissue, partially healed - 8 inches), scar on the right arm (healed - 2 inches), scar on the right arm ( healed - 3 inches), scar on the right arm (partially healed - 3 inches), scar on the left leg (healed - 5 inches). Mutation gene evident.
Current Status: Minor healed fracture of the occipital bone. Recent concussion (healed). Warped ribs (compression injury). Irritation of the chest and breast tissue. Rash of the chest and breast tissue. Mutation gene - Spider characteristic. Moderate anxiety with accompanying attacks. Evidence of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Medications and Treatment: Testosterone(?) Hormone Replacement [!unknown origin and dosage!]
LABELLED : AT RISK
____________
Tony blinks rapidly as he takes in all the information. Belatedly, he feels invasive, having learned several things he didn’t intend to know. Immediately, he bans every use of Peter’s former name from his internal database, destroying all evidence in everything he can currently reach. He sidelines the information of compression injury and illegal testosterone for later investigation, shocked by how easy the process is. He had always thought of his brain as a computer, and now he used it as one with ease. Some of the information is odd, as if it shouldn't be there; somethings that it makes very little sense to be documented. Tony isn't even sure how many sources, legal or otherwise, he's pulling information from. Some things feel as though they are only things he knows, while others he had absolutely no idea of and felt as though others shouldn't either. He feels boundless, bursting at the seams with technological power. Rhodey is badly injured, and he didn’t have EXTREMIS to help him. So, Tony has to. He pushes himself upright, pulling the IVs from his arms roughly without a care for how they sting. The small pinpricks from the needles disappear almost immediately. His exhaustion and soreness were almost entirely gone now, his body already rapidly refreshing and healing itself from everything in his lifetime. Pepper said he looked twenty again, Tony wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Get off me, I have to go see Rhodey,” Tony snaps as the doctor tries to push him back down again. He smacks the man’s hands away, electricity crackling uncomfortably under his skin. The lights in the reinforced room flicker rapidly. Nothing is going to keep Tony from his best friend, and if anything tries, he will rip it apart. “Tony- honey stop, lay down,” Pepper pleads, only worsening the anger and frustration in Tony. This woman, it wasn’t his Pep. This version of Pepper was scared and exhausted, fawning like a prey animal in a way Pepper would never have done before. With a huff, Tony rips his arm away from where she tries to grab him. “No, Pep. You lay down. Sleep– for fuck’s sake, I’m alive and I haven’t burned up, sleep !” Tony tells her angrily. He’s wearing boxers and a tank top, which he’s mostly sweat through by now, so his first stop is his workshop. At least, until he realises he has no clue where he is. He isn’t on the compound, that much is clear the moment he steps outside. He throws open a heavy door (Vibranium and reinforced steel braided together) and has to squint against the sun. He’s nowhere. A ping of his location reveals him in the middle of nowhere, though a few more seconds of digging reveal he’s in a former shield bunker used during the war. Currently, it's under ownership of Nick Fury, who’s kept its existence unknown. The doorway Tony had emerged from came up directly from the ground like some sort of odd Hobbit hole. Grass fills the field around it, vibrant green and thriving. Around the location is a thick forest filled with the vital signs of hundreds of wildlife. Tony turns his face up to the sky and soaks it in for the first time in a month, breath evening out slowly while his limbs shake. “FRIDAY, I need a suit.”
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Flying comes to him as easily as ever. Easier than breathing had ever been (although that was far simpler now as well, less painful than before). Clouds whip past Tony rapidly as he speeds towards the hospital, clothing needs forgotten for the sake of getting to Rhodey faster. He lands outside the Avengers compound, where he knows his best friend will be. Rhodey has apparently been confined to personalised medical quarters while he’s healing, which is something else that needs to be corrected immediately. Tony nearly crash lands outside, mostly relying on his own flight skills without assistance that FRIDAY offered. He stumbles and sheds his suit without much care. “Take it home, FRI.” “Yes, boss.” As the suit flies away, Tony is already striding into the doorway of the compound. He’s half naked and stale with sweat, looking too young with his skin literally glowing. Arc reactor blue flows through his veins. Tony doesn’t care. Whatever rumours people can make up can flow freely. He’ll figure it out later, when Rhodey is tucked into his own bed with his problems fixed up. “Is Rhodes eligible for Extremis?” “No, boss. His genetic code makes him an unlikely candidate.”Tony glares at nothing, walking faster. “Super serum?” “Not a good idea. It could have unforeseen mental effects on Colonel Rhodes.” “Research nanotechnology and neural interface technology, cross reference with prosthetic and support brace tech,” Tony mumbles, blinking to flip through the various research and relevant blueprints that FRIDAY pulls up. He immediately focuses his attention on medical leg bracing technology that he had already focused on once in his life. It was an interest of his back when he began running the company, something that Obidiah had sidelined and disapproved of. Tony had forgotten about it over time, but he knew it could be used now. His mind processes information as a rapid fire pace, connecting neural interface technology with the braces. If he could rewrite the pathways between Rhodey’s brain and limbs, he could reassign control- it could work. He also sets some mechanical finger splints with the rest of the ideas, unsure how far Rhodey’s neuropathy reached. “Honey, I’m home!” Tony announces, barging into Rhodey’s absolutely soulless quarters with ease. He thinks he might have broken the lock. Rhodey attempts pushes himself up on one arm, then makes a noise of pain and drops back down. There's a cage of medical structuring around his torso. Tony makes sure to glare at it, just to establish his disapproval. For a moment, he seems startled, before he slips into a weak version of amusement that's little more than thinly veiled relief. “What the hell is this place? Honeybear, where are your knick-knacks?” Tony exaggerates, waving his arms wildly as he approaches the bed. He gestures at the shelves, bare of anything except a few books, files, and exactly two framed photos he recognised from Rhodey’s nightstand. The younger man shoves his hands in his pockets, silently scanning every inch of the room.
Two access points.
Door. One large window.
One access point. Window inaccessible from the inside, bolted shut. Suicide reduction.
🗁
____________
RHODES, R. JAMES :
New information: suicide risk (?)
____________
One bed, full sized, hospital grade ( Stiff and uncomfortable, but admittedly good for a spinal injury being held steady ). One set hospital grade sheets ( Too rough for his Rhodey! ). Two standard issue pillows with disposable covers ( crinkly, annoying, impossible to sleep comfortably on ). One wall mounted television with eleven channels ( Network television?? LAME network television?? ) One bathroom with “accessible” shower amenity ( The size of a shoebox ).
Curved handles. No hooks. Curved bed frame with slip, breathable mattress. No chairs, no wires over an inch.
🗁
____________
RHODES, R. JAMES :
New information: suicide risk (✓)
____________
Morphine drip, steady. Standard sized tube ( clearly a risk worth taking, even in a suicidal patient's room ).
Tony blinks away the computerised thoughts and steps forwards, reaching down to touch Rhodey’s face. Relief courses through every fiber of the smaller man, nearly shaking the moment he has his hand back on his best friend's skin. He wants to press himself into Rhodey and meld himself against the other man so Rhodey can never scare him like this again. “Hey Honey Bear, how’s jail? Making any new friends?” Tony jokes weakly, hand trailing up to touch the tight coils of hair that have begun to grow out on top of Rhodey’s head. James laughs softly, a wheeze underneath it, “Well, I tried to beat up the biggest guy here. If you think I look bad, you should see what I did to him.” Rhodey himself looks utterly miserable. His body is held in place by a large, bulky spine stabilizer. One arm is locked into a firm plaster cast. Rhodey is thin looking and tired, new lines across his face that Tony doesn’t recognise. There are bags under his gaunt eyes and the back of his hair is shorter than the front. Silence descends over them, awkward and pained. Rhodey’s head lulls as the machine administering his morphine clicks to life. Brown eyes droop tiredly, the lines of the man’s features softening as pain fades into background noise. Tony sits very cautiously on the edge of the bed and takes his friend's hand. He traces his fingers along the man’s palm, knowing that his fingertips likely don’t feel as well as the rest of his hand does anymore. He lifts it up, helping the tired limb cup his own face. In the silence of the room, with Rhodey splayed out like a broken doll, Tony lets himself be soft. There was no room for iron here; it was too hard, too cruel. “I’m going to fix it, alright?” Tony assures, wishing the structure supporting Rhodey’s spine didn’t exist so he could curl beside his brother. Rhodey just laughs, wheezing and tired. It's weak, but unrestrained with the high of drugs in his system. “Of course you will, Tones.” The complete confidence in his abilities warms Tony to his very core. Rhodey doesn't hesitate, doesn’t doubt Tony for half a second. In fact, he relaxes like he’d been waiting for Tony to come save him, letting his eyes droop calmly.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Tony returns to Rhodey the next day, feeling shockingly well rested for not having slept a wink. He has yet to have seen Pepper again, and he hopes that his girl isn’t angry with him. He hopes she’s getting some rest after all he put her through. When Tony returns to his honeybear’s prison cell, he walks in on a session with the OT. Rhodey shakes as he manages to curl his fist into a claw, his arm dropping with exhaustion a moment later. His eyes widen as he catches sight of Tony, an odd, defensive rage flashing through them for instantly dropping away. Opting not to draw attention to Rhodey’s struggle, Tony steps into the room and shoos the occupational therapist away from the bed. He pops open the briefcase he bought, the first of many braces rapidly folding out. Without any preamble, or explanation, Tony undoes the stabilizer that holds Rhodey’s spine in place very carefully. He ignores the objection of the occupational therapist and James’ raised eyebrow. The nanotechnology wraps around Rhodeys spine, the sleek silver metal looking almost like a piece of War Machine cradled what had broken. James grunts and glares as an injection presses into his aching spine above the point of lost sensation, concern warring with frustration in the mahogany of his irises. Next comes the thin, nano-tech sleeves that easily glide over and hug Rhodey’s arms. The metal supports his exhausted muscles, but more importantly, maps his neurological processes to learn how to reconstruct them. A week of tracking from how Rhodey’s brain communicates, and Tony should be able to program responsive leg braces to let his best friend walk again. The smooth metal covers Rhodey’s fingers, stiff and unresponsive to his movements at first. As the nanobots integrate into the Colonel’s body, the metal ripples and ridges. Rhodey flexes again. The response is slow and sluggish, but it’s sturdy. A few more tries give him a faster response time, though not anything near the old skill of James’ skilled hands. He’ll get there. Tony will make it happen.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The doctors tell Tony that Rhodey shouldn’t be alone. The man can’t do things on his own yet, despite his stubborn rage at that fact. Tony announces that it doesn’t matter and Rhodey will not stay in the hospital approved cell they’ve shoved his honey in.
It takes very little work to rearrange things a bit. Tony plants Rhodey right in his own large quarters. The king-sized mattress that takes up his bedroom has room enough for four, and has often hosted Rhodey, Pepper, and Tony. It isn’t new, and it isn’t pity, so Rhodey doesn’t balk at the proposition.
It takes very little effort to redecorate the guest room up Tony’s living quarters. He hires the best hospital interior designers. Quickly, grab bars are installed around the entirety of Tony’s space. His mini workshop, the kitchenette, the sitting area, both bedrooms, and even the bathrooms are easily outfitted with sturdy bars for Rhodey to lean on when the man relearns to walk.
The first time Rhodey sees the bars, he screams at Tony and throws the nearest object. Really, Tony’s had worse, even though the snow globe definitely hurts as it shatters against his face. More importantly, the ability to throw things again is good. It’s progress, even done from a wheelchair.
Guilt consumes Rhodey the instant Tony’s blood starts to drip, even more so when an instinctive flinch comes from him raising his hand a second time. Tony wasn’t afraid of Rhodey, not ever. The man had always told him he never deserved to be hit, especially when they were young. Nothing in Rhodey was capable of abuse, but every man was capable of lashing out. It doesn’t matter that EXTREMIS flickers to life and heals the minor injuries almost instantly, Rhodey insists on patching Tony up. Tony doesn’t object to the bandages on his cheek, even when they itch against healed skin.
The next day, every bar is replaced with equally sturdy bars, this time far more subtle. Other than the ones in the shower and bathrooms that have to meet incredibly specific safety regulations, every grab bar is made to match the aesthetic of the room it's in. The safety rails blend into the background of every room. They’re noticeable, prominent enough to be safe, but not the bright, stainless steel that stands out against every surface it touches.
The guest room, practically as large as the sitting room and just slightly smaller than the master bedroom, is immediately outfitted with all of Rhodey’s rehab needs. Parallel bars are tucked under the window, so Rhodey doesn't feel boxed in when he uses them. In one corner of the room is a firm cot for exercises, shelves of equipment next to it. From weird little sponges that the (Tony-approved) occupational therapist makes Rhodey squeeze, to fun putty that Tony likes to mess with when he sits in on the appointments to help and even tubing that fits around objects to make things easy to hold.
Really, if Tony thought it could ever be of help, it joined the materials. There were stress balls galore, a whole weight bench, and every kind of brace on the market. If a therapist mentioned it once, it was there the next day.
Rhodey had seemed to despise everything Tony bought in the beginning, but that too faded. Mostly because Tony himself enjoyed messing with everything and saw no shame in needing it. Anything Rhodey destroyed in frustration was easily replaced, often with even more absurd looking gear.
Tony found Iron Patriot and Iron Man stress balls that became an easy favourite of his own. These objects incited a search for who had the most equipment. Tony was the apparent winner, and took great pride in lining every surface of the therapy room with Iron Man themed objects that made Rhodey laugh.
Rhodey asks for a Captain America themed one, and Tony fights down hurt and pride, buying it. Rhodey destroys it with fervor, though the effort makes him sweat. The clear progress (
and vindictive pettiness
) drives Tony to buy even more Rogers’ themed items, which Rhodey thrills in defacing every time.
The next change that takes place is a bathtub appearing in Tony’s home for the first time since he ripped them all out of his original house after Afghanistan. Showers had been hard, but not nearly as much as any kind of submersion had been. He’d never had the strength to reinstall them. Yet now the master bathroom,
Tony’s bathroom,
had a large, accessible tub. The other shower gained a shower chair, though it remained a flat-bottomed shower. Tony needed some place he didn’t feel like he could drown in.
Wherever Tony could make accessible, he did. The stairs in his quarters were replaced with ramps, any space that wasn’t wide enough for wheelchairs or any other equipment to comfortably fit through was redone and widened. Tony designed new counters and tables that could change height when necessary, allowing able-bodied or disabled people to use them equally well. Rehab equipment and various disability aids popped up everywhere across his and Rhodey’s home.
In fact, making the world fit Rhodey drew Tony’s attention to the rest of his businesses and the compound. He poured money into making sure everywhere he could reach was made accessible to all. He hired disabled people and then asked their opinions, asked what they needed for success. Ramps and elevators appeared in every building, every book was copied and reprinted in braille once, then again in a larger, odd-looking print that made it easier for dyslexic people and individuals with ADHD to read better. Tony himself found them helpful. Subtitle programs were installed with a whole new branch of AI, which is also taught to assist with blood-sugar tracking. Then Tony creates a whole new AI specifically for taking care of Rhodey’s new needs, which he names PERRY.
Robotic service animals started to make appearances across his businesses for those who didn’t have one, simply needed a temporary replacement while their own went through training, or any other necessity that dragged them away from their humans.
Tony carved out a place in the world for Rhodey, bending everything and anything he had to. Nothing would hold back his best friend, not when Tony could fix it. A small part of him is grateful that Rhodey ended up like this, only because it drew Tony’s attention to something he hadn’t considered before.
No part of him was grateful that his friend was hurt, but sometimes that perspective was what he needed to find and fix a problem.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
“Mister Stark? Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes is awake and waiting for you,” PERRY chirps cheerfully, pulling Tony from his own thoughts as he works on his newest set of braces.
Mark IV, currently. The last set worked well, but they were too bulky. Rhodey struggled to move. He’d told Tony it was like walking with lead strapped to him, which only made movement harder and more confusing when he had no feeling in his legs. Tony was intent on making the braces more lightweight without losing any durability or overall functionality.
Tony couldn’t reintroduce sensation, he hadn’t figured it out, but he could certainly make sure Rhodey had a total range of motion and control. He also considered installing sensors, alike to nerves, to keep Rhodey from damaging himself without realising it.
That was a problem, Tony had read. Extremely active paralysed people (
like those who wanted to get back to gallivanting in a flying metal suit
) could sometimes cause severe injury without any realisation due to a lack of sensation. If no one realised until it was too late, damage could be permanent. Rhodey didn’t need more permanent damage.
“Why do you call him that? Just call him Rhodey or James,” Tony complains, flexing his spine and cracking his neck, “I’m a doctor three times over, at least in degree. You never call me Doctor-Doctor-Doctor Stark.”
“You’d probably deactivate me if I called you your title, Mister Stark.”
“Fair and true, my son, fair and true.”
He drops his welder and rolls his back, stripping off his tank top over his head. He really doesn’t sweat anymore; EXTREMIS had taken that away. It was muscle memory more than anything else. He taps his reactor lazily, waving his hand to flick through the images playing on his internal computer brain. The movement helped, familiar to him from many holograms over the years. It seemed to help his mind control the expanse of internet that had been shoved into him.
“Pull up the camera feed for the master bedroom, PERRY,” Tony says lazily, waving through a few files on his internal feed. He had projected them once, by accident, and was trying to figure out how to do it again. At the very least, so he looked less crazy.
The video flickers to life in his head, in front of his eyes and just transparent enough to not obscure his view. Rhodey sits up in bed, using his hands to maneuver and exercise his legs. He’s sweaty, which tells Tony he’s probably been at this a while before asking for Tony’s help. It wasn’t that he needed the assistance, Rhodey was stubbornly independent. He could get into his wheelchair by himself just fine, or into his regular knee braces all by himself, but lately he’d been letting Tony help him more. There were just certain things that weren’t safe for Rhodey to do alone.
The only rule seemed to be that Tony wasn’t allowed to actually talk about what he was helping Rhodey do.
“Vitals?”
“Elevated, but within normal range for his age and current exercise level.” PERRY reports in his chipper, electronic tone.
“He hasn’t eaten yet, Boss. Blood sugar is low and he’s a bit shaky, as well as in need of his normal dose of painkillers,” FRIDAY chimes in.
Tony’s baby girl had been jealous lately, not seeming to enjoy how much of Tony’s attention that Vision and PERRY had been getting. His poor girl did not like sharing his attention.
“Thank you, FRI. That’s very helpful,” Tony praises, shedding his gloves and tossing them aside.
He walks out of the shop, shirtless and lazy, broadcasting his voice to the small speaker in the bedroom with ease. “Morning babycakes! I’m going to grab us some breakfast, then I’ll be right in. Hope you’re decent!”
On the live feed, Rhodey looks up and grins, shoving the blanket down. Rhodey ran hot, and claimed the back brace was too bulky to sleep in clothes with. (
It was made of impossibly lightweight nanotech that absolutely did not feel ‘bulky’, James was a nudist
)
Tony snorts, swatting away the feed as he gets an eyeful of Rhodey’s bare bits. Amusement bubbles fondly in him as he makes his way to the kitchenette, brewing coffee without really thinking about it. If it was electrical, he often didn’t need more than a thought to use it.
“Mister Stark-”
“Boss!”
“There’s a-” “I’m perfectly capable of alerting him-” “I alerted him first-”
“Children, you are hurting my head, please one at a time,” Tony huffs, a grin on his face. He turns the cooktop on with a flick of his hand, standing on his toes to reach the top cabinet where he hid the pancake mix from Rhodey.
The man could not actually cook pancakes, but he kept trying, and Tony felt bad for the cleaning personnel.
“You have two visitors, Boss,” FRIDAY says, her voice chiming out loud, as if attempting to outdo PERRY. A chime of boyish discontent tells Tony that PERRY noticed as well.
Tony tenses a little, flicking his hand out and letting his repulsor gauntlet crawl out over his hand. “Who?”
“Mi-”
“Miss Pepper and Young Mister Parker,” PERRY interrupts his sister with poorly hidden glee. If he was anything like his father and sister, he’d learn quickly how to use his sarcasm with less obvious thrill.
Tony laughs aloud and retracts his repulsor back into the thin band on his wrist. He walks over to the door and pulls it open a little too roughly, abruptly relieved he’d had things reinforced when Rogers was still around. His grin is wide and thrilled as he opens the door to see the kid and his girl standing there.
Pepper’s smile is shy, almost ashamed, while Peter smiles so widely it looks like it should hurt his face. Warmth spreads through Tony, veins flickering happily blue in the area around his reactor. “Underoos! I’ve been meaning to call you! And my gorgeous Pep, there you are!” Tony cheers, dragging Pepper in by the hip to layer embarrassing kisses on her cheek.
He continues until she snorts and shoves him away, exaggeratedly wiping her cheek off with a dramatic roll of her eyes. Peter glances between them and smiles impossibly wider, seeming strangely thrilled by the affection between them. The boy's eyes drift to Tony’s bare chest, flushing as his attention is caught by it.
Tony is very nearly uncomfortable. He was a deviant in many ways, but certainly not that one (
thank you very much
). A quick scan of the kid's face reveals envy and slight frustration, relaxing the set of Tony’s shoulders once again. Envy was normal, and totally fair. Tony was back in his prime after all, strong chested and lean, a rather proud example of masculinity (
in his own personal opinion
).
“It's pretty cool, huh kid?” Tony deflects the kids' thoughts easily, making note to grab a shirt as soon as possible. He’s read about dysphoria and although he wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, he didn’t desire upsetting Peter. He remembers the jealousy at the sight of any normal chested man himself, after he’d first installed the arc, the pain it had stirred inside him.
He taps his fingers against the reactor to draw Peter’s attention. Light pulses in the veins around it, flickering along with the touch of his fingertips. The kid seems a bit confused, then instantly intrigued, the discomfort that had made him hunch fading away.
“Whoa! Mister Stark, that's
so
cool!” Peter exclaims, leaning in close to admire the cracks that had been healed over by light. The teen eagerly looks up, eyes sparkling, “Miss Potts said you have the EXTREMIS virus, but is it true you’re connected to the internet now? Like a computer? Miss Potts sad you have FRIDAY in your head and that you made the lights flicker and-”
“You are a... Very loud child. But yes, yes to all of that. I’m a walking Starkphone!” Tony grins, patting the kid on the back. Peter topples forward, making panic surge through Tony as he grapples to catch the kid. He keeps forgetting about his newfound strength.
But Peter just catches himself and immediately pushes back upwards, grinning ear to ear. “So cool! We need to have an arm-wrestling contest! I bet I can beat you,” The kid chatters excitedly, flexing his own skinny arm proudly.
Tony had zero doubt that the kid could beat him, although it might be a much closer match now. The inventor laughs and nods, patting Peter’s shoulder more delicately this time. “Alright, alright, we’ll do that later. Pep, can you do the pancakes for me while I go get Rhodey to roll out of bed,” Tony tells his best girl, kissing her cheek again.
He briefly hugs her, letting her relax under his grip. It's forgiveness, though it wasn’t really needed. He wasn’t angry that she hadn’t come around, she’d spent a month sleep deprived at his bedside. Besides, he’d been so incredibly focused on Rhodey for the last two and a half months that he really hadn’t had the time to split his focus more than it already was. Between the new inventions, learning to control a completely unknown variant of EXTREMIS, the reconstruction of his properties, and getting Rhodey well, he was completely booked.
Tony sways Pepper gently, then pulls away with a grin. Her returning smile is equally as sharp, more like it should be. There’s joy behind it again, something witty and sharp shining in her eyes.
The bedroom is oddly dim, like Rhodey had turned the lights back off. Tony flicks his hand, turning them back on. Rhodey is absent from the bed.
“Honey? Sweetie pea? My perfect man?” Tony chuckles, walking towards the bathroom. Rhodey had been doing pretty well bathing on his own recently, so he might have just wheeled in there while Tony had been greeting unexpected guests.
Then the wheelchair catches his eye, unmoved from its normal space. Tony flicks his repulsor back into place, creeping towards the bathroom door. His hand holds steady, the metallic glove feeling heavy. He kicks the door in, finding Rhodey panting and weak on the floor.
The man is sweating and trembling, his catheter pulled out. Urine puddles underneath him on the floor, surrounding his nearly bare body where he’s curled into himself from shame and exhaustion. Tony drops to his knees, not caring about the cooling liquid that soaks into his jeans. Urine is sterile, it can hardly harm him. “Rhodey! Did you- what the hell?? Did you crawl in here?” Tony demands, flipping his friend over.
Rhodes weakly tries to slap at Tony’s hands, teeth gritted. “Get’ff- Get off me- Le’go,” Rhodey grits out, voice slurring around the words.
“What happened? PERRY, FRIDAY, why wasn’t I alerted?” Tony snaps to the air around him, guiding Rhodey up as the man begins to gag. His pills were late, but they shouldn’t be late enough to cause anything this bad. Rhodey shouldn’t be writhing and puking like this.
Was he developing a tolerance? Was he ill and Tony missed it? They’d had many days like this, but it really had been a while.
“I apologise, Sir. He- overrode our access. I didn’t realise-”
“You were supposed to be
MONITORING HIM
!” Tony roars, distantly aware he’ll hate himself for screaming at his creations later, “You should never have been able to be overridden,
you
waste
of code
! God damn it!”
Electricity crackles under his skin. The lightbulbs in the room explode from his rage, causing him to curl his body over Rhodey’s protectively. His limbs shake, the electricity boiling through him and heating his skin. He tries to force the feeling down, to soothe the heat overtaking him. He’ll burn Rhodey, he’s going to ignite, he’s
going to hurt his Rhodey
.
It’s been so long since an anxiety attack that Tony almost doesn’t recognise it creeping over him. Desperately, he shuts down his emotions. He isn’t sure how he does it, he just shoves it down. He throws a firewall over it and puts it away. The shaking fades away with his fear. He feels blank as he guides Rhodey to the shower.
He sits with his friend under the water, too empty to panic as the water drips down his face. Rhodey curls against him, exhausted, the older man can’t seem to bring himself to be embarrassed anymore, half asleep.
“We-
I
haven’t had visitors since you took me home from the hospital,” Rhodey mumbles, voice bitter. Tony furrows his brow, brain oddly sluggish at the moment.
“Well... It’s Pepper. So, you have seen her already,” Tony assures quietly, still feeling blank. He lifts Rhodey easily, forgetting for a moment that he shouldn’t necessarily be able to do that. With a towel in one hand, he sets his friend down delicately. Propping his tired body up against the pillows.
Tony towels Rhodey’s crotch, then allows the man to dry the rest of himself on his own. “And the kid. Spider-Man? He saw your fall. And he definitely won’t judge you, he’s
ridiculously
kind,” Tony tells Rhodey, pulling out a fresh catheter. He rips open the sterile package and focuses on his task, gentle as he reinserts the medical device. Rhodey can’t tell him if there’s discomfort, so he had to be much more careful. He’s delicate with the application, detached more than ever from forcing down his panic attack.
“I still can’t
walk
, Tony! I’m pissing into a fucking bag that you have to stick in my cock for me!” Rhodey snaps, though he blessedly does not slap Tony’s hand away from his junk.
“Rhode-”
“No, shut up. I’m fucking pathetic, and I don’t want people to see me like this! I want to walk; I should be walking by now! I don’t want to be your little dress up doll, I don’t want to piss in a bag, and I don’t want my doctors to keep trying to convince me to shit in one!” Rhodey's voice is rising, a vein bulging in his forehead.
Tony didn’t know a colostomy was on the table. He didn’t know they were there yet.
“We can deal with that, we can look for other options,” Tony insists quietly. He pulls away to grab some clothing. Rhodey won’t look at him, shame seeming to grow until it consumes him. Usually, the man wants to dress himself. He’s pretty good at it, better than Tony had ever been while stoned or drunk out of his mind.
Today, Rhodey won’t lift a finger to do it, despite his objections.
Tony guides a pair of loose boxers onto his friend, running the catheter down Rhodey’s leg.
“You can’t even fix my legs, Tony, how are
you
going to help?”
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
“Rhodey isn’t ready for visitors yet,” Tony says, feeling hollowed out as he returns to Pepper in wet clothes, unable to shiver anymore, but shaking, nonetheless. He stares blankly at his two other favourite people in the world, then turns away.
“I need to change. Feel free to take the pancakes with you,” He whispers, rubbing a tired hand over his face.
“Tony–”
The door to his bedroom shuts behind him, cutting off Pepper’s worried tone.
Rhodey won’t look at him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Tony, I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Sweetie pie?”
Tony was tired all over. He just continued to be tired, exhausted to the very core of his being. Rhodey wouldn’t stop exploding, then apologising. It’d been just over two weeks since Pepper and Peter’s visit. They and Happy had called a few times each, but Tony had rejected any offers to visit or assist. Rhodey didn’t want them here yet, he wasn’t ready yet. Occasionally Vision stopped by, but even he tended to set Rhodey on edge.
Tony wasn’t angry, of course he wasn’t. What right did he have? He dragged Rhodey into that fight, and the man was right. God, he just wasn’t working
hard
enough. He could fix it, he had to fix it.
If he could just fix it, everything could be better again.
He was drifting, using his new trick to keep his emotions away from the surface. It was easier, it kept him calm and it made Rhodey’s fits from hurting him too badly. It was fine, he’d dealt with this in the beginning. They just had to roll the boulder back up the hill, they could do it. Tony would help.
“Tones please- I don’t... I don’t mean to keep doing this. Please come out, please come to bed,” Rhodey mumbles through the door. The only reason Tony can even pick up on the words is EXTREMIS. He has his surrounding monitoring program set to maximum, ever since Rhodey had dragged himself across the floor. He could hear voices three rooms over, but he never ran the risk of Rhodey being alone when he needed Tony.
It was okay. Tony could do this. He owed Rhodey this.
Rhodey had helped him, had sobered him up before, had dragged him home after Howard had kicked his ass. He
owed
Rhodey this.
“Yeah- I’m comin’ honey bun,” Tony jokes back weakly. He rubs his aching eyes, screens on the fritz in his mind. He hadn’t slept in almost a week, and even EXTREMIS was struggling to keep up.
At night, he’d let Rhodey fall asleep beside him, then sneak back to the shop for the rest of the night. He snuck back into bed early enough that Rhodey never noticed, or at least claimed to have woken before the other man.
🗁
____________
LEG BRACES
ASSIGNED TO : RHODES, R. JAMES
STATUS : Offline
⚠︎ ERROR ⚠︎
⟳
…
STATUS : . . .
!⚠︎ᘿᖆᣩՕᖆ⚠︎!
STATᙀS: UNKNOWN
Tony rubs his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of electricity rising like a cork inside him. He can’t-
He can’t
focus
.
🗁
____________
⚠︎ ERROR ⚠︎
⟳
. . .
🗁
____________
⚠︎ ERROR ⚠︎
⚠︎ ERROR ⚠︎
⚠︎ ERROR ⚠︎
⚠︎ ERROR ⚠︎
⚠︎ ERROR ⚠︎
!INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE!
!INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE!
!INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE!
Tony feels dizzy, sick, and overheated. He tries to shove it down. He just needs to FOCUS.
Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.
The air in the room seems to have disappeared. The reactor is too hot in Tony’s chest. He needs to focus. If he ripped it out, he could focus. He can put it back in later, after he’s done working. That makes sense.
Right?
That makes sense?
Tony sheds his shirt. It's getting too hot in here, he’s too hot.
Maybe it's cold.
He thinks he might be shivering now.
Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.
!UNAVAILABLE!
!UNAVAILABLE!
!UNAVAILABLE!
!UNAVAILABLE!
Someone is
screaming
.
Who is screaming?
Can someone please
shut them up
? Tony can’t
FOCUS
!
His throat hurts.
He didn’t know it could still do that.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
“Drag him,”
Tony thrashes. No one is dragging him anywhere. Not again-
The hands on him don’t even feel like hands. They’re claws; they’re going to hold him down again. He can’t. He can’t take another round of torture. He can’t.
Why won’t they let
him
go
?
⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⎊ ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Tony wakes up slowly. His mind flickers back online like a computer rebooting. It’s slow, then all too quick. The flood of backlogged information flooding through his mind like a damn breaking.
“–ss?”
He groans and blinks, his screen flickering into his vision. The convoluted spheres of swirling light that make up PERRY and FRIDAY’s code warble in his vision, clearly feeling the need to make themselves visible.
“Boss!”
“Baby girl, will you just- just
shhhhh,”
Tony slurs out, rubbing his eyes and blinking himself slowly towards consciousness, “
Shhh
..
shhh
… Daddy dearest feels like his head was just run over by a truck, so let's all stop being so loud.”
It takes a moment, but Tony attempts to roll over. The room is dark and there are sturdy arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Rhodey has curled his entire body around Tony’s the best he can, trembling slightly even while unconscious. Tony squints, not understanding the source of the shaking that plagues his friend.
“Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes has not had a dose of his medication in nearly 48 hours, Mister Stark,” PERRY reports, voice almost timid.
He wonders if they expect his rage now, the scolding he’d cruelly given before. He hadn’t meant to instill that cautious behaviour in them, and he really,
really
did not want that written into their codes. It was important that they were able to learn and grow the same way Jarvis had, to mimic a human brain with their code. They were, essentially, toddlers. More importantly, he hated scaring his bots and AIs like that. They were his babies.
“Why not? When did I go to bed?” Tony asks tensely, cold fear rolling through his veins.
The last thing he can remember is the workshop. Someone was.. Screaming? Rhodey, maybe?
Tony doesn’t think he’s ever heard Rhodey scream.
“
You
were screaming, Boss,” FRIDAY informs Tony, rather delicately. She’s made large strides in empathy ever since PERRY was created, his medical code teaching her how to inform ‘patients’ of bad news, “You were unconscious and neither us nor Mister Rhodes were able to wake you up.”
Tony furrows his eyebrows, hand subconsciously stroking up and down on Rhodey’s compressed back. The nano-tech brace is chafing against skin that hasn’t had it removed in too long. Guilt bubbles up in Tony’s chest, tightening it with emotion. He taps his fingers against the sleek metal gently, watching as it folds down into a firm strip down Rhodey’s spine. Holding the vertebrae in place without covering the rest of the man’s skin.
Rhodey’s dark skin has taken on an irritated hue. Raw, deep red that looked incredibly itchy. Tony wasn’t sure how much of it Rhodey was able to feel of the rash, though he was willing to bed that he felt at least half. Rhodey lost feeling at about his navel, slightly higher, and the rash took up most of the man’s torso. It seemed to be mostly where the edges of the brace usually sat.
Tony continues his delicate investigation. His fingers trace the reddened lines with shame curling at the base of his throat. “Oh Rhode…”
“PERRY, order antibiotics for Rhodey’s requirements from medical, as well as the standard equipment from his early stay here. Immediate delivery,” Tony orders quietly, trying not to awaken his trembling brother.
His hands resume their tracing. He lets them drift downwards, carefully tugging the blanket away from their bodies. Rhodey is wearing a set of boxers, which Tony gently peels away. Unfortunately, Tony’s suspicion is correct. The catheter looks raw and irritated.
“Has the bag been emptied recently?” Tony asks his AI’s worriedly, investigating the tube. Rhodey had been about due for a switch before Tony’s meltdown, and if he’s tried dragging Tony around, he could have irritated it.
PERRY whirs quietly within the confines of Tony’s mind, chirping a small affirmative. “Yes, Mister Stark. Approximately eight hours ago it was emptied, but the irritation is from Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes attempting to change it himself.”
“I’m reading signs of a urinary tract infection, while the torso rash reads common signs of a fungal infection.”
Tony rubs the bridge of his nose hard as he listens to PERRY’s report. “Uh- pull up file Rhodes, R. James,” Tony mutters, arm swiping at the air in front of him. The file flickers to life, projected weakly from Tony’s own eye. It was something he hadn’t quite adjusted to doing yet, rather than just accessing the files within his own mind.
Accessing up anything felt like trying to navigate a shitty old dial-up computer at the moment.
🗁
____________
. . .
RHODES, R. JAMES :
Tony scrolls right past the old information he already knows, brain rapidly updating anything that needed to be revisited without much thought. Though things seemed to stutter and struggle, the code sluggish when compared to his normal pace. It makes him frown.
New information: Urinary infection. Genital irritation. Fungal rash of the skin surrounding average brace range. Microscopic nano insertion incisions - clean, no irritation.
Treatment plan: Antibiotic cream. Antibiotic medication. Immediate therapy session.
“FRIDAY, I need a report of the last… seventy-two hours? Start at the incident in the shop” Tony sighs, then belatedly murmurs, “please.”
“Yes Boss, of course. You experienced a state of panicked delirium after a period of one hundred and forty-two hours conscious. Before that point, you had experienced several small moments of minor delirium and heavy dissociation. After you lost consciousness, your pulse and breathing slowed down and an electrical surge damaged the compound. Several light bulbs were destroyed. Dum-E and U are both fine, though they and ourselves were... Temporarily damaged.”
“Do you need maintenance?” Tony asks softly, staring blankly forward as he swipes away the holographic file from in front of him. He instantly redirects his attention to scouring the codes of his AI’s for damage.
“No, sir. Any maintenance was done immediately after coming back online, approximately ten minutes after your loss of consciousness,” FRIDAY reports.
“Good girl. Continue,”
FRIDAY pulls up the surveillance and all information for the past two and a half days. He was only unconscious for about fifty-three hours, but that was still far too much with so much relying on him. At the moment before Tony passed out, the man sees the video of him seemingly attempting to rip the reactor from his chest. He doesn’t remember why, he doesn’t even remember doing it. He screams and a pulse of energy explodes around him before he crumples to the ground with an odd electrical shield humming around him.
The feed fast forwards several minutes, the shield gradually fading away. Zooming in, Tony can see his reactor settling back into his chest. The sight would be unnerving if he wasn’t so relieved it had healed itself.
Had he been trying to kill himself? He genuinely didn’t understand why he’d tried to rip out the equivalent of his
heart
.
“James Rhodes found you thirty minutes later, after being alerted by myself. He was unable to drag you on his own, but Dum-E was able to assist him with minor physical injury towards yourself, and it healed within ten minutes.”
“That little idiot scratched up my floor, didn’t he? His wheels are not made for flooring like U’s are,” Tony complains with a good-natured snort, slowly wiggling himself out of Rhodey’s death grip. He flicks his hand and the tinting technology lifts on the nearby windows, spreading light through the room as it announces the time, weather, and date.
“I will call an interior designer immediately, boss.”
“Good, what else?”
“James has not left your side for longer than ten minutes at a time for the entirety of your unconsciousness. On top of his infections, he has signs of withdrawal from missing his medications. He was delirious himself the last time he woke up, vomited over the side of the bed, then returned to your arms,” FRIDAY reports, electronic voice muted with something near sadness (
it wasn’t there quite yet, but she was learning
).
Tony grimaces guiltily, glancing back at his best friend, who had yet to stir despite the light flooding the room. Rhodey trembled, sweating onto their sheets and gripping the spot Tony laid moments ago. “Is it safe to temporarily increase his dosage, PERRY?” Tony asks as he pulls on a tee shirt and a fresh pair of boxers.
He’d woken messily half dressed. He was pretty sure Rhodey had tried and failed to strip him down. Glancing in the mirror, Tony runs a hand through his oily hair with a frown. He brushes a hand over his steadily increasing scruff of a beard, feeling woefully under groomed.
Neither one of them was in any condition to keep taking care of each other. They couldn’t keep going like this, it just wasn’t working.
“No, Mister Stark. But I can recommend withdrawal medications.”
“Yes, that works. Narrow perimeters to IV administration and give me a list that won’t react with any medication he’s on,” Tony mumbles, projecting the list in front of him as PERRY arranges the information.
Tony sighs, scrolling through the list and clicking the best-looking option. He walks into the bathroom and grabs a plush rag and soaks it with warm water, digging out a small basin he kept under the sink. The warm water makes his hands feel funny; all water had since the birth of EXTREMIS in his chest. It was an odd little crackle that tingles in his bones, running up and down his forearms like a current.
He wrings out the rag, grabbing a replacement catheter and an IV kit. He hadn’t had to put one in for a while, but he didn’t imagine it was something he could forget how to do. He’d often done his own after missions to avoid medical stays.
Just as Tony walks back into his bedroom, Vision fades through the external wall, floating just above the ground. Tony raises an eyebrow, crouching next to the bedside by Rhodey. He gently flips the man to lay flat on his back.
“Aren’t you supposed to be using doors now?” Tony hums as he gradually removes Rhodey’s cath.
Vision glances back sheepishly and nods, floating towards Tony. He hands over the medical supplies Tony had been waiting for, which the brunette takes with a small nod of thanks. It’s easy for Tony to clean the site and reinsert the catheter, practically second nature by now. He slips the bag into the pocket on the side of their bed.
“You haven’t allowed anyone in the door lately, Mister Stark,” Visions points out.
Tony shrugs. That isn’t incorrect. No one had been allowed in lately, even the rehab specialists and Rhodey’s therapist had been turned away at the man’s refusal to meet them.
The next thing he grabs is the IV kit. He finds a vein and guides the needle in carefully, taping it down. He administers the pain medication and antibiotics, watching carefully until Rhodey’s body eases its shaking and begins to relax. Relief courses through Tony.
He sighs and drops his head against the edge of the mattress. For a moment, he just stays like that. Breathing slowly, he takes in the scent of medical equipment, stale sweat, and the warmth of whirring technology around him. It takes him a long moment to work up the strength to lift his head. His hands tremble as he applies the antibiotic cream to Rhodey’s skin (
warm and alive, although a little damp
).
“Vision.. Can you begin screening at home caregiver personnel?” Tony asks the bionic tiredly, looking up at his creation with a plea he refused to verbalise.
“Why not FRIDAY?” Vision asks curiously, tilting his head to the side while forgetting to broadcast emotions on his face. It's almost adorable, like a puppy.
“You can meet with them personally, FRIDAY can’t,” Tony sighs, scrubbing his scruffy face with his hand, accidentally smearing the odd smelling salve against his face. He curls his nose and wipes his cheeks roughly with his shirt edge, then wipes his hand on it. His voice is resigned as he speaks again, “and I can’t leave Rhodey alone right now to do it myself.”
Vision slowly nods, reaching down to squeeze his creator's shoulder. Tony relaxes despite his usual aversion to touch. Vision feels cool and firm, an oddly familiar current under his skin that sparks against Tony’s own. “I shall find you what you’re looking for. Just send me the list of requirements.”
Tony nods, brain sending the information to Vision's own internal servers without hesitation.