There's nothing so grandstanding like the megalopolis of a hospital. It's own city, hallways like streets trafficked with cart-cars, walking pedestrians, and the occasional pit stop for coffee and snacks and souvenirs. The insides are hidden by white blinds, self-contained and sanitized from the ill-ridden murk of the outside. Everything is cleaned, healed, taken care of. Quiet only except for times when the sirens break the reverie, and the hustle of squeaking soles on the newly waxed floors stir up the curtains, and the injured or sick in the rooms the curtains close off. The times when broken, sick shadows from the world outside the blinded windows can't be fixed slip away into the night to the sound of electric zaps, beating on chests, and flat lines. Everything is still orderly, simplicated. Mathematically significant. This night is the same in the life of the beating city, and from the muteness, a monotone line breaks the spell once again.
Seconds ticked by, faintly audible underneath the waiting room's white noise machine. Waterfalls. Darcy squirmed against the too-soft couch and regretted the large mocha she had downed right before. Not wanting to miss being called in, she sighed and tried to get comfortable. It was easier said than done. The office of a hospital social worker wasn't necessarily her idea of idyllic.
Eventually the sound of high heels clicking against the tile caught her attention. As she lifted her eyes from her Tumblr dash, she was approached by a young but professional-looking woman who immediately offered to shake hands. "Darcy Lewis?" When she nodded, the other woman continued in a clipped voice. "I'm Maria Hill, I'm the director of social work here, and I'll be handling your psychological evaluation."
Darcy took a deep breath, and nodded again, trying to calm the sudden swarm of butterflies in her stomach. They moved into the side office, and Hill launched into the questionnaire. "Tell me why you're here, Darcy."
Not sure if it was a genuine question or a tactic to psych her out, Darcy shrugged. "Exactly what the doctor called about, I guess. I want to register as an organ donor. Well, a live one. You know, kidney and marrow and stuff. The spares." She tried to convince herself it was phrased right while her response was written.
"Okay. And your decision. Tell me about it."
"I'm a political science major," Darcy said dryly. "Pre-law. I figured, I've already sold my soul to helping people out, so I may as well get my corporeal body in the act, too."
Maria pursed her lips. "Your use of the term 'sold' is-"
"Purely sarcasm. I know it's, like, super illegal to benefit from this. Like I said, I'm studying law. So no worries there. And I've donated blood before, so that's nothing new."
"Okay, good. And it says in your chart that you aren't doing this for a specific recipient. It's just something you feel you need to do? There's nothing influencing you or pressuring you?"
Yes. Yes there was. Since she had learned the truth about her birth- a one-night college affair between two people with no intention to handle the consequences- she had a sense of both guilt and meaning. "I guess I figure, I'm here. I'm alive, I'm human, and there's something I can do. And it's not like I'm using the extra bits anyway, right?"
"Alright. Well, you can change your mind at any time. You would just let me know. We could even tell anyone else it's a physical issue, so you wouldn't have to feel like you need to justify it." Maria finished writing and continued. The questions ranged from clinical to personal, but by the end, Darcy was more confident in her decision.
"Well, it seems like everything is in order." Maria finally closed her notebook and nodded. "I'm going to let them know they can put you on the list. We'll call you if there's anything else we need, as far as testing goes. And of course we'll get ahold of you if there's a match." Her tone was casual for the situation. Her phrasing almost seemed like the terms and conditions on a dating site. Somehow this reassured Darcy.
"Alright, great. Just one more thing?" Maria nodded, prompting her to continue. "Would I be able to meet the person? I've seen it in movies and stuff, and I think I'd like to know who my guts are going to."
"No problem." Maria led Darcy from the office. "If it's okay with the recipient, it's okay with us. We'll be in touch."
You ever notice how toes look significantly shorter just as they are about to break the surface when they rise beneath the water? Tony was drunk. He was noticing things, lifting his foot till it almost touched the bubbly surface. Jacuzzi jets hitting his back, felt amazing. He had midget toes.
"Get out of the bath."
He turned his head, kind of, slightly. Pepper towered above him, hands on her hips, great hips, he might add. Hell, even if he were standing, and he's taller than she is, Pepper would still be towering above him. Pepper is a tall woman, both in stature and personality.
"I'm not going, Pepper. I refuse." He sank back into the tub until his ears are almost underwater. When he talked bubbles rippled the water, "Listen, I don't need their tech, or their brains, if I wanted a damned liver I'd make one." Even drunk Tony was ten times smarter than those fucking doctors. Maybe not, but the water was feeling really nice on his chilled skin at the moment.
"You're being ridiculous," she snapped. "Look, you need this, and I think you know it. Whether or not you want to admit it, I don't care. We're going."
There was no response. She tapped her foot against the tile and shot him a glare. "Get up. Get dressed. We're going. And you need to act like you've got it together, or you know they'll take you off the waiting list."
"Pep, I'm tellin' you, I don'-"
"Yeah. I know." She sat beside the tub, looking vulnerable. Her mouth was drawn back into a tight line, and there were dark half moons stamped underneath her eyes. "You don't want to take it. You have yourself convinced that you don't want to live. You've made that obvious, but I don't care." She twisted at the engagement ring on her fourth finger. The bright blue sapphire glinted in the light. "We're a team now."
Her words sobered him up some, pushes himself up so he's at least above the water, almost at eye level with her. Her eyes lift from her ring to his face, and the love was as real, as solid, as beautiful as the freckle on the tip of her nose. This was the love of his life, and the love of his life was perfect. He laid his arm on the edge of the bath, water drips down the side, glistens off the ends of dark hair. The outside air was extremely cold in comparison to the steaming water. He touches her face.
"Your hands are wet, Tony." She pulls away, wiped her cheek on her shoulder. But before he could set his hand down she grabbed it in both of hers, kissed it.
"My life has been going down a road leading here since before I met you, Pep, I just can't do this anymore, I don't deserve you," he whispered tearful. "I love you more than anyone, more than anything I've ever loved in my entire life" Even as he spoke, Pepper shook her head, disagreeing, and pressed her soft lips against his pruned, soapy fingers.
"Prove it." She hated the way her voice shook. "Get dressed, and meet me downstairs. We're going."
"But-" He leaned over the side of the tub, retching.
"No buts." She crossed her arms, refusing to offer sympathy now. In her mind, the situation was his fault. "You're an adult. Act like it. Pull yourself together and meet me downstairs, ready to go, in ten minutes, or it's back to rehab. I'm not kidding this time."
When she left Tony spent what felt like a long time with his head hung over the side of the tub, staring at his own vomit that pooled on the floor in Pepper's place. It had an unhealthy pink tinge to it, glossy, almost translucent. He presumed blood. It didn't matter. And her words were wasted on him. The truth of the matter is, he had barely any control over himself these days. His mind was a broken place, a dark place. Pepper reminded him of a woman he met, weeks ago, sitting on a park bench in the Gardens. It was noon and Tony was working himself towards drunk, he'd just found out about his "problem" hadn't told Pepper yet. It was also the beginning of what would become a slightly concerning alcohol problem. The woman he met was elderly, perhaps ancient, he had sat beside her on the park bench.
"You young folk these days" the woman had croaked, after they'd been sitting awhile. She took a drag on a long cigar, blowing smoke from her nose like a flaring purple dragon, "you all have problems. So many problems. You're depressed, you're anxious, you're obsessive, insomniacs, you're all damn hypochondriacs is my opinion" she looks at him, "and you. Drunk and it ain't even noon yet. We all got problems, son. Every damned one of us. So suck up your bullshit and throw that bottle away, and face whatever it is you're running from cause I don't need your drunk, smelling ass ruining my day."
He laughed. Okay, maybe that's not exactly how it went. Something like that though. Pepper reminded him of the old lady, at any rate. She was similarly strong and victimless. He reluctantly drains the water, hits the button that turns the jets off. He gets up, towels off. Pepper had moved his clothes from the bedroom to the bathroom, had laid them on the top of the toilet seat. He grabs them, dresses. In the mirror he faces himself, dark hair longer than it had been in a while, thinning at his temples, dark and wavy over his forehead. He took a comb to the waves, put in a little hair gel. The alcohol was wearing off. He brushed his teeth, put on some cologne. Before he turned the light off Tony looked long and hard at his reflection, trying to remember a time when he looked at himself and didn't see one giant mathematical anomaly he couldn't solve. Pepper was waiting. He didn't have for this kind of self-pity.
Off to the damn fucking doctors.
"So, she's actually going to do it?" The smaller man's eyes widened as he stared up at his boyfriend in shock.
There was a slight grunt of agreement from across the table. "You know my sister, Stevie. She's a tough one. Ever since we took her in, she's been a fighter. I don't always agree, but you know how it is. Listening to big brother just isn't as appealing as it was years ago, and now she's off giving her organs to some stranger."
"They say you follow the example of your older siblings," Steve pointed out, with a nod directed towards Bucky's prosthetic. "She watched you enlist. You were doing something you believed in, and she saw that. This is her fight, and she's ready."
"Yeah, well," Bucky let out a heavy sigh. "Forgive me if I don't like the idea of my little sister getting hacked apart, no matter how cute the supervising nurse is."
"You physical therapy guys. You know, not every department is all about gaping wounds and gore. The transplant world is sweet, in a way. Like yesterday, we gave a baby a new heart. That's the kind of thing Darcy is making possible. Someone is going to get another chance, because of her."
"Right, yeah. You're right." He sighed, and pushed Steve's salad closer. "You need to eat. Don't want you having another blood sugar drop."
Lacking a valid argument, Steve gave in. They sat in silence for a new minutes before Steve's pager went off. "I have to go. I just got the lab results, and they're not pretty. I'll see you tonight?" After a quick kiss, he ran off towards the patient's room.
The door was open. Seeing Steve approach, Pepper rushed out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. She crossed her arms, anxious to appear in control, and turned to face him. "How bad was it?"
He shook his head. "Not good. His worst this month. I just got the toxicology report back. His blood alcohol was point two percent. That's severe. We're going to keep him overnight, and keep treating for alcohol poisoning. Now, with the shape of his liver-"
"We're working on it," she cut in dryly, desperately. "With a little more time, we can figure this out. He was doing so well, until last night. We can prove it, we just need more time."
"Sweetheart…" He bit his lip and reached up to place a hand on her shoulder. "You and I both know that we can't wait long. That liver won't last another few months, and UNOS won't give us one if they think he's just going to keep drinking. We can keep treating the symptoms, but other than that, your options are extremely limited."
"But there are options," she insisted. "You just said so. What are they? I'll do anything."
"You'll need to speak to the doctor. But the only option here is if you find a willing, eligible living donor. The liver grows back after a few weeks, we can take just a segment of someone else's. They would need to be healthy, and a near perfect match. If there's any living family, especially siblings or children…"
She shook her head. When she finally spoke, her voice was more assertive than ever. "My blood type is O. I can donate to anyone. Where do I sign up?"
"We can test you, Pepper," he promised gently. "But you have to have more in common than blood type. There are other factors. We won't know until we test you. The only thing I know for sure is that we'll do everything we can."
"You see?" she sighed, somewhat relieved as she pulled him into a hug. "This is why you're my favorite."
Late the next morning, Darcy as still slumped over at her desk, asleep across her infamously large American history textbook. She woke just in time to catch her phone on the final ring.
"Ms. Lewis?" A pleasant, accented voice spoke first on the other end. "This is Doctor Margaret Carter, I'm the head of the transplant department at Shield General. We have a patient that you seem to be a match for, a liver recipient. Would you be able to come back for more testing later this afternoon?"
"Oh, oh yeah!" She yawned and stretched out her neck. The pops were heard on the doctor's end. "I'll be right there."