Chapter Text
Early October 2015
Something changed as Tony lay on the cold concrete of the bunker, shivering and bleeding out.
A sense of effort that seemed to fade away just as quickly as his lifeblood. He was so tired of trying to keep everything from falling apart. He’d failed anyway, just like he’d failed his mother. Just like he’d failed JARVIS… and Bruce.
He’d searched for the man. Retrofitted SHIELD’s most advanced quinjet to handle space travel. But there was no trace of the scientist. No breadcrumbs to follow. No lingering distress signal to point the way. The man was just gone. Just like Tony’s parents. Just like JARVIS.
“JARVIS?” he whispered, not really expecting an answer and predictably getting none. He closed his eyes, ignoring the warning in the back of his head that seemed to think such an action was dangerous.
He couldn’t feel his fingers. He could blame the damage to his left arm for the lack of feeling, but the slight ache in the numb fingertips of his right hand belied a more insidious cause. He needed to get up. He needed to move.
“FRI?” His disappointment at her lack of response was short-lived as he remembered that Steve had crushed the arc reactor in the suit, cutting him off from any help.
Right. It was up to him to get out of this mess.
He tried to take stock of his situation. His right hand was broken, bones snapped just as sure as the metal had been when the Winter Soldier crushed it. Judging by the warmth trickling down his neck, and how hard those last few hits to the head had been, he was no doubt suffering from a severe concussion as well.
The sharp pain in his chest was new. He hadn’t begun feeling it until after he’d collapsed once the two rogues had gone. The resulting shortness of breath was troublesome but manageable. Probably a broken rib or two somewhere, but first thing was first. He needed to get out of the suit before the reserve power completely died.
He depressed the necessary triggers, the whir of metal suddenly drowned by a scream. The pain was unbearable and Tony was powerless to stop it as the chest plate pulled back from his frame. The process halted in stops and starts, tearing metal and sinew at the damaged sections across his chest as it fought to release him.
HIs last thought was a mental note to bring a jacket the next time he traveled to Siberia, before his eyes closed and the darkness took him.
Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark, can you hear me?
Shit is that Zemo? Apprehend him!
What the hell happened?
Have Fitz comb the security footage for answers. No leave the suit, we’ll have a team retrieve it. If we don’t get him to the hospital now he’s going to die.
Hold on Stark.
Agent Coulson couldn’t help but pace as he stood outside the surgical suite, eyes constantly straying to the button next to the glass window that clearly showed how frantically the medics were working to save Stark's life.
He still can’t believe that Captain America had done it. That his childhood idol could have beaten another hero, his friend, to near death.
A sudden rush of movement behind the glass made him amend his statement to actual death for a terrifying 2 minutes and 43 seconds before they regained a rhythm. Stark wasn’t his most favorite person in the world, but the man didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.
He could admit that he’d been wrong about the billionaire when they’d first met. He’d tried hard to get out of the assignment, wondering what he’d done to the director to deserve such a punishment. But training Tony Stark had been eye opening and… well… fun. He’d seen a different side to the man that was often kept hidden away.
They’d become friends.
Which made the footage that Fitz had just provided him with sit heavily in his mind in his gut, which churned at the bloody blue hands still working on the man behind the glass. When Stark’s limbs began to flail he looked at the button again and sighed. Knowing he was going to regret it, but unable to cope with the quiet, he pushed it.
“Shit! Keep holding him down! He’s already lost too much blood, we're going to need a transfusion! Get me three bags of A--”
“We need to relieve the pressure on his brain now!”
“But his heart-.”
“Won't work without his brain!”
“Fine. Fine! Do it! Damnit his sternum is in pieces.”
“Just one or two holes...get me a drainage kit!”
Coulson had to switch it off at the sound of a drill, swallowing hard as he looked away.
“Hey,” A familiar voice greeted him.
“Hey. Everything taken care of?”
“Yea. Sent a team back for the armor and they’d only just arrived when an Iron Man suit showed up and retrieved the remains of the suit. Said its name was FRIDAY.”
“Yea. That sounds like Stark. Wouldn’t want his tech left in the wrong hands, even when he’s not coherent enough to keep it safe himself.”
“How’s it going?” May asked, sitting in a chair and watching as Coulson began to pace.
“Not good. He’s coded once already.”
“They’re good doctors Phil. He’ll be okay.”
Coulson didn't answer. Couldn’t really get past the thought of what would happen if things went otherwise. He still couldn’t believe…
“Any word from the others?” He asked, too clipped.
“You sure you want to hear it?”
“What happened?” he demanded.
“There was a break-in at the Raft.” she started softly. “Footage indicates it was Rogers.”
“He took them.” Coulson said to himself, nodding. “Where did they go?”
“We don’t know.”
“What.” he said, spinning around. “How is that possible?”
“Not sure. They seem to have disappeared off the face of the planet. I bet Fury has a good guess but we’re at a loss. FitzSimmons is still working on it but... Sorry Phil.”
He shook away her apology. It wasn’t her fault he was agitated. Turning back to the glass he clenched his teeth, fist balled tightly under his arms. For a terrifying moment he was frozen in shock, breaths coming in a fast staccato as his tense brown eyes met the wide terrified orbs of a darker brown, before someone finally managed to administer a sedative.
“Do you want me to call anyone?” May asked softly, voice smooth despite the horror still lingering in her system at watching Stark, who’d been clearly screaming in terror and pain a moment ago, slip bonelessly back to the bed.
“No…” Coulson trailed off, thinking of Pepper and Rhodey and Happy. Had anyone informed them? Probably not. It wasn’t SHIELD’s protocol to inform anyone of anything unless expressly ordered to do so.
“No.” he repeated, running a hand through his hair and taking out his own phone. If the call had to be made, it would be from him. “I’ll handle it.”
“Right.” she said standing, preparing to leave to give him some privacy, though she wouldn’t be far, in case he needed her. On her way out she put a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It’ll be okay Phil. You’ll see.”
He nodded, still seeing agonized brown eyes as he pulled up the number for Pepper Pots.
When Tony woke up the first thing he heard were the quiet sobs.
It was so alarming that he peeled his eyes open, ignoring the pain of the gunk that had sealed them shut ripping apart, half of it oozing and tumbling down his cheek and the other half sliding into his eye and making him tear up to try and dislodge it.
It was Pepper’s voice. He could tell by the soft little sounds she makes and the blurry red hair he can just begin to see to his right. The soft cries pain him to hear. More than the pulsing ache in his chest and his head. He would do anything to make it stop.
“Ggngh.” he tries to speak and nearly chokes as he realizes that the burning in his throat is a ventilator, and the reason his words don’t come out right.
“Tony!” Her head snapped up, tears glistening on her cheeks as she rushed to hover above him. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
He wants to answer her. He tries to smile, but the tube prevents it and now that her tears have stopped it’s so much easier to slip back under.
“It didn’t work you know.” he heard her whisper and fought to keep his eyes open, but they did nothing but flutter. “The distance. Our stupid break. I thought that…. But you’re determined to worry me into an early grave.”
He hadn’t meant to worry her. He’d never wanted to worry her. He wants to tell her this, but he’s already too far gone.
“Tony, I love you. Tony, don't go.”
It’s the last thing he hears before slipping back into the dark.