This is how I imagined the ending of IM3 would go. Because PTSD and panic attacks don't just go away because you're determined not to have them. That's not how it works. I just hope I didn't fail at describing how PTSD syndrome work all together... :/
Tony held up pretty well, all things considered.
He had decided to turn a new leaf. No more hiding behind the arc reactor and no more pussyfooting around. He had been determined, and like a lot of things that happen when the idea got stuck in his head, he went through with it. He had the arc reactor removed as well as the last pieces of shrapnel (thank fuck for Stark Industries new and awesome Medical Technologies departement!). And when he opened his eyes after the operation, it felt like a weight that had been crushing his chest was finally lifted (metaphorically and literally). He was still developing the cure for Pepper but things were going slow on that front. Pepper (bless the heart of that woman she had to be a saint) managed grandly and only threatened to roast him when he gave her popcorn for her to fry with her bare hands.
Everything was going along spendidly, he hadn't had any anxiety attacks since the operation and was in the process of hooking Dum-E, You and Butterfingers to his labs in Stark Tower. The nightmares didn't come back and it really just felt good. He really should have known better.
The first night he woke up in cold sweat and jerked up from the bed—Pepper had been at a conference in Dubai—it was to a jumbled distant memory of hands on his chest, the beeping of a heart monitor and then the sudden absolute silence of deep space raced in his head, sending shivers down his spine.
"Sir? Your heart rate and vitals indicators are speeding up. Do you need any assistance?" J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice trickled through his half dazed mind, the worry in his AI's voice barely veiled.
"I'm okay Jar, just put on some music will you?" Tony frowned, shaking his head as the first notes of 'T.N.T.' filtered through the dark room.
The billionaire stayed sitted in bed, staring quietly at his hands for a few minutes before stretching out, seemingly shrugging off whatever had just happened, and getting out of bed. He made it down to his workshop and started tinkering at new designs for an excavation suit, similar to his Mark 36 but one that was manageable and simple enough to be mass produced for disaster relief.
Tony didn't realize he had dozed off until he was jerked awake from where he was sprawled out onto his workbench by a loud scream. Disorientated and short of breath, it took a few moments before he realized that the scream was his and Dum-E was standing next to him, his claw rotated inquisitively and if he'd think about it, a little worried.
But with the single-mindedness that had once given fruit to the arc reactor and his suits, the billionaire shrugged it off as some bad macchiato drank earlier.
It took a while. Actually it took 6 months of irregular sleep, before Tony realized he really had a problem. Some days, he felt normal enough, went to charities, signed autographs, laughed at Rodhey and slept like a baby. But other times, the slightest noise startled him. Be it the whirring of one of his Bots puttering around the workshop, or Pepper's dainty hand on his chest. And he had taken to only shower with low intensity spray and with hot enough water to turn his skin a scalded red (and then again, sometimes he completely skipped the shower and stayed sequestrated in his workshop for days), because the cold water brought back the sensation of being dragged down to the bottom of the ocean, desperate and powerless, and the spray sometimes reminded him of all that time ago, in that blasted cave.
It took him actually throwing Pepper out of bed while J.A.R.V.I.S. screamed "SIR PLEASE!" one night, after he'd exhausted himself in his workshop enough that he thought he'd simply pass out. That's how much it took him before Tony admitted to her, sitting on their shared bed in the darkness and the dead of the night, that he might have a problem.
Pepper had remained silent, a constant support by his side. Neither of them got much sleep that night, but when she left the next morning for Stark Ind. Pepper kissed him softly and murmured "I'm always there Tony, you know that". If it was meant as a reassurance, the billionaire couldn't decide, because it still gripped at his heart and made him feel like he was choking a little.
Later that day, Rhodey came to visit and brought with him the 1935 Bourbon Malt Tony had given him for his 30th birthday. Together, they sat at the terrace of the loft and drank silently for a while. Tony felt vaguely ashamed that it only took two glasses of Malt on the rock before he started spewing his guts at his friend. The restless nights, the flashbacks, the all-encompassing fear that gripped to his guts sometimes and left him wanting to throw up or punch something. Rhodey just sat there, solemn and quiet, through the whole thing. Filling his glass back up when he just threw them back one after the other and then stopping when he knew Tony shouldn't get anymore.
When he was done, the colonel didn't try to give him any bullshit cliché like "it's gonna be okay" or "you can do this". No, instead, Rhodes looked at him dead in the eyes and said.
"It's gonna hurt like shit. Not just you, but everyone of us, your friends. You know why? Because that's what PTSD does."
Tony felt the air leaving him when he heard his friend say that word. That one little acronym he'd avoided even thinking about. But James saw his expression and his gaze turned to steel as he continued.
"You will be scared. You will be angry. And you will be ready to throw the towel. But we won't let you. I have seen what those can do to people, Tony and it's not pretty. But Pepper, J.A.R.V.I.S., hell your ragtag team of Avengeing misfits… we'll help you get through. So maybe one day, you won't look at the rest of the world and wait for the other shoe to drop. Okay?"
The black haired man remained silent for a moment, prompting another look from Rhodey.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, Tony?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm stuck with you now." Tony muttered, his eyes dropping to his half empty glass.
"It's gonna be a Hum Drum-Vee, but I'm in this with you. Alright?"
Tony nodded slightly, clenching his teeth to stop himself from showing how fucking relieved and overwhelmed he was feeling and how much he just wanted to cry.
He saw from the corner of his eyes, his friend nodded back at him and stood up with a slight wobble in his step.
"Good, now ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to get us some pizza, there's a new Expendables movie on your watchlist and I need to see it." The colonel threw back at him as he walked back into the loft.
It didn't feel like after the operation. It wasn't the illusion of a weight getting lifted off his chest. But it was a start. And that was enough for now.
-The End