It's two days before someone comes into his cell. Another three before he's given something to ingest that isn't tepid, fetid water he's sure probably came from a sewer. Or at least he assumes that's how many days have passed. There isn't much to go on in here, chained as he is to some slimy wall in some slimy dark pit that no decent human being would ever dare set foot in. He tries to tell this to his captors, repeatedly, but honestly, it's like talking to a brick wall. Well, no, that's not true. Sometimes they listen. And sometimes there are fists. So he measures the time that passes by how deeply the manacles surrounding his wrists saw into his skin instead.
He thinks of Pepper a lot. When blood loss and lack of sustenance make the world spin he thinks about how, in the early days of their relationship (if you could call it a relationship at that point) she wouldn't have even batted an eye at him disappearing. Gone on a bender , she'd say. Run off with some tart , she'd figure. But things are different now. He's cleaned up his act (kinda), toned it down (a little) and now people are starting to care . There are actual, real live people in his life - who don't run on batteries - that would notice if he was gone. It's funny how that happens sometimes.
Rhodey would notice. Happy would notice. Hell, even Peter would notice.
Thoughts of the kid always make his chest ache. And no, it's not because he's currently wasting away in this godforsaken place, chained to a wall, half his insides hanging out from a week-old gash in his side…
That potential new scar is a gift from his attackers – you know, if he lives long enough for a scar to even form; that outcome is still to be determined. But it takes a lot more than that to bring down Iron Man, thank you very much. Twenty guys at least, if he counted right, and armor-piercing weaponry to boot; hence the new hole in his side, and the chains that rattle every time he moves, securing him to the wall.
But back to the comfort part because, as much as he hates to admit it, it's kind of the only thing keeping him going at the moment.
It's all because of the arc reactor, he figures… well, sometimes. When they took it out, it wass like everything shifted back into place. He was… whole again. The irony of that makes him laugh sometimes. Take something out that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place and feel better afterwards? Renewed? Healthy? Happy? Who does that, even?
Maybe once he gets out of here, out of these chains, patched back up, listening to Peter's latest voicemail about his mini-superhero adventures, he can publish a self-help book and make another few million. "How to Salvage a Reputation and Make People Like You Again." People eat that kind of shit up all day, and Tony Stark is nothing but accommodating when it comes to schmoozing and more funding for his projects.
And speaking of projects…
Tony starts back in with the paperclip he managed to snag off one of his guards earlier in the day. Twenty men there may have been, but an Einstein among them there is not. And who carries around paperclips anyway? The guy was practically handing him an escape route. They were obviously just the hired muscle for this kidnapping. Stupid, really. If you want to capture and subdue Iron Man, then you've got at least be a little more careful than that.
He thinks a lot while he works. Imagines all the ways he's going to make his kidnappers suffer as he bends his raw, weeping wrists at the joint. Thinks about what he might do to them for their… ill-treatment as he tries to aim for the keyhole with numb, blood-soaked fingers. He's in the middle of eviscerating one particular guard in his mind with the broken end of a chair leg when he hears the first of the screams.
Initially, he thinks it's just his mind playing tricks on him, but then there's an explosion so loud it hurts his ears and rocks the room. Bits of dust and debris rain down on his head and he pauses mid grimace just as Captain America bursts into the room. (Wait, is he supposed to call him Captain America anymore? Honestly, people keep changing personas so quickly these days, it's enough to make his head spin). And spin his head does. All over the place. He almost tells Jarvis to fix the damn stabilizers when he remembers there is no Jarvis in his ear anymore.
"Hey Spangles," he says to his sometimes friend, most of the time enemy. He tries to make it sound nonchalant, but fatigue, blood loss and a growing sense of 'living is just too hard anymore' has begun to take over his body and, well, indifference just takes too much energy. He'll have to settle on sarcasm instead.
Cap is not amused. Another explosion outside in the hall has the man with a plan flinching and glancing over his shoulder. The two men watch as Black Widow, in all her black leather glory, drops to the ground from the ceiling like a frickin' ninja.
"They're not going to be interrupting your little reunion here any time soon, if that's what you're wondering," she says with a smirk, straightening up and leaning against the doorway, arms folded over her chest. Cap gives her a look, or at least Tony think's it's a look. The world is doing that weird, spinning thing again. He's pretty sure he actually grins when Cap kneels beside him.
"You come to rescue me there, Stars and Stripes? Where's your buddy?" He exaggerates looking around the room. "Huh? Did you bring him along, too? He gonna try and kill the rest of my family? Because I've got a newsflash for ya, Cap. I ain't got nobody left anymore."
He's not sure where the words come from, just that they're meant to hit Steve harder than any fist ever could. That's why he uses them. He's bleeding, he's in pain, and he just doesn't care anymore.
There are two huge metal rings on either side of him half way up the wall. The chains encircling his writs are attached to them so that his arms never rest at his sides, but are raised up like he's some kind of fucking marionette. Never having been a huge fan of dancing in particular, especially when it's against his will, he doesn't say anything as Rogers rips the chains from the wall and his arms are finally lowered.
He screams.
The blood rushes back into his arms and he full on, school kid with a skinned knee, screams.
Cap puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and fuck if he doesn't lean into that touch, resting his feverish and sweat soaked forehead against the cool leather of Cap's uniform. If he were a weaker man, he might have cried, but there was no time for that.
"Time to go, boys," Natasha says from the doorway, body tense. Somewhere beyond Tony can make out distant sound of voices yelling in a language his addled brain can't seem to identify.
"I'm sorry about this, Stark," Cap says quickly as he shoves his hands under Tony's armpits and lifts him up roughly from the floor. The room spins like he's on a goddamn merry-go-round and he's pretty sure he pukes all over Captain America's red and white boots.
"You know," he slurs as Rogers all but drags him out of his cell and down the corridor in the opposite direction of the voices. "This doesn't change anything between us."
Cap ignores him again, a muscle quivering near his jaw line the only indication he gives that Tony's words hit home.
Tony keeps quiet after that. Not because he should but because he has to. He barely has enough energy to even keep his eyes open anymore and he can feel himself slipping.
He starts missing bits of time: a few seconds here, a few feet of corridor there. He remembers the rush of cool air on his face as they finally breach the outdoors, but not being loaded into the back of a Stark Industries helicopter. He misses whatever smartass greeting Clint Barton chucks at him from the front of the craft, but not the jovial laugh that follows. In fact, he doesn't remember a thing after something sharp stabs at the crook of his elbow and he sinks down into a deep and comfortable black abyss.
He wakes unknowable hours later in the medical wing of Stark Tower. Pepper Potts and several pieces of medical equipment are settled in beside his bed and Pepper's got one of his neatly bandaged hands (well, that's new) clutched in her own slender one. Her brow is furrowed in that way it only does when she's really worried, but all evidence of that worry vanishes the instant he opens his eyes.
"Don't you ever disappear on me like that again," she lectures him sternly, trying (and failing spectacularly) to keep her obvious relief at his reemergence into the land of the living hidden. Tony can't help but smile. "What?" she asks, features instantly softening at the sight of his thousand-watt grin.
"Aww, honey," he sing-songs to her, happier than he's been in a very long time. "You noticed."