An Appointment
"I'm here to see Mr. Stark," The woman was of medium height and lithe, with black hair and glittering green eyes. Pepper Potts was disgusted. Her face fell. She had been on her way to Tony with a couple of drinks. Just a little surprise. And now it was ruined. Even after all Tony had admitted to her about loving her he was still after other women.
"I'm sorry, do you have an appointment with him?"
"No quite the opposite," the lithe woman retorted brusquely, "He contacted me. I have an appointment with him,"
Pepper was observing the conversation from her vantage point just down the hall. She almost turned in disgust and frustration when what she was hearing stopped her.
"Right this way please then...um,"
"Dr. Lynn Mason,"
"This way please Dr. Mason,"
Intrigued, Pepper decided to follow discreetly behind Dr. Mason and Tony's new assistant. They turned the corner to the cherry wood study that Tony kept for specific meetings. But a meeting in the study with a Doctor? The woman seemed professional enough, but Pepper just couldn't be sure.
"Mr. Stark?" the Assistant called through the wood door after knocking briefly. There must have been some sound of acknowledgement from inside because the Assistant continued with her introduction of the Doctor.
"Let her in, lock the door behind her," Tony sounded tired and worn. Pepper wished that she could see his face. The assistant left and not having noticed Pepper went presumably back to her paperwork at her desk. Fortunately for Pepper, Dr. Mason neglected to lock the door; she'd even left it open a crack.
Pepper watched as Dr. Lynn Mason shook hands in a businesslike manner with Tony and proceeded to open a bag that had previously gone unnoticed by Pepper.
"Mr. Stark, if you could please remove your shirt and then lie down," she stated formally and proceeded to take out a steel and black stethoscope. Mildly surprised, Pepper noticed the lack of smart retort from the handsome playboy regarding the very feminine Doctor's first request.
The CEO of Stark Industries watched on as the cold metal was placed to her employer's chest. There was an intake of breath and Tony Stark flinched slightly at the contact. "That's cold," he objected, but Dr. Mason ignored him, politely, apparently absorbed in listening to his breathing. She lifted the stethoscope and placed on the other side of his chest.
"You were telling me earlier that your breathing had recently become more restricted than usual, a tightening of the chest and lungs, I believe that you described it as," she looked up questioningly at him. He nodded in a positive fashion. "You can sit up now, Mr. Stark," She went around to his back and listened again.
She put the stethoscope down and turned to her patient again. "I want you to follow my pen with your eyes. The standard test," After a moment she was done. "Now, I want you to look straight at the pen and, keeping your eyes ahead, I will move the pen. I want you to tell me when you can no longer see it,"
Moving the pen to his left side slowly, Dr. Mason waited for his response. She didn't have to wait long. Then to the right side. Not long there either. Pepper was growing agitated. She understood what it meant. Dr. Mason only confirmed her fears with a heavy sigh.
"I'm going to squeeze the pressure point between your forefinger and thumb. As I increase the pressure I want you to tell me when you can feel it, or at what point I should stop – "
"Wa, wa, wa, wa, woah! Hold on a second. Can't that hurt? And potentially cause me to pass out?" Pepper bit her lip at his admission. The physician had already completed her test, without the help of the patient.
"Not if you can't feel it, Mr. Stark,"
"Excuse me?"
"The test is already completed Mr. Stark. If I had pressed any harder you would have blacked out, but as it is most would have long before I let go," the look on her face was peculiar to Pepper. "One more test, Mr. Stark. From the expression on Dr. Lynn Mason's face, Pepper Potts could tell that the woman hardly needed to finish the last test to give her diagnosis and eventual prognosis.
But it wasn't for her own records that she was proceeding with the test. It was to be an example for her patient's benefit. "The reflex test, Mr. Stark. Standard procedure,"
There were a few singular moments of quiet, and over all it surprised Pepper just a little at the continuing and relative silence and lack of commentary that her employer was employing. "When you tap my knees," he broke the silence, "Aren't they supposed to react?" there was only a hint of fear in his usually stoic and nonchalant tone. Something was seriously wrong and now he was aware of its extreme reach and hold on his body.
"Mr. Stark," Lynn Mason began with a sigh. "You scheduled this appointment with me, specifically, for a reason. But I don't think that you need me to tell you the cause of your ailment. That new 'power pack' locked into your chest. You yourself told me over the phone when you made the appointment that the device hadn't run through a full diagnostic scan and hadn't been yet properly tested,"
"I'd be dead already if I'd waited any longer to update my 'life support' so to speak,"
"That is true Mr. Stark; however the situation now isn't much better. In fact, it could be worse. This is your last resort, is it not?"
"Only one other option and this is better than that,"
"Not by much," Pepper held her breath.
"Meaning...?"
"The device is feeding toxins directly into your brain, blood vessels, and nervous system. It is already compromising your peripheral vision and reaction time, making both almost non-existent. Eventually, sooner rather than later, you'll begin to lose control over your motor functions, if you haven't begun to already. You won't be driving a car safely any longer, though I doubt that you ever drove safely before, Mr. Stark,"
He chuckled a little, but the light remaining in his eyes had gone out. The next words did not shock him, Pepper could tell. He was expecting the prognosis. "You knew you were dying, Mr. Stark, when you first called me. You just didn't know how bad you already had gotten. You called me here to give you an estimate on-"
"How long." There was steel in his voice and eyes.
"That was a statement not a question, Mr. Stark," Lynn replied quietly, Pepper shuddered on the other side of the door.
"How long?"
"That depend Mr. Stark,"
"On what factors, Dr. Mason?" She sat down on the chaise lounge beside him.
"Get rid of all alcoholic beverages, anything caffeinated of sweetened. No drugs or medications other than Tylenol. Anything else will react very badly with the toxins. Even then use it sparingly. If you have a headache or something, I suggest that you try lying down with a cool glass of water and some soothing music before you take the Tylenol. No more driving. Take a limo or have your chauffeur drive you around, it's not that strange for a playboy like you. Nothing risky, like parachuting or surfing or racecar driving. Nothing like that. Play croquette or chess. If you cut that out your chances improve,"
"But not drastically. If I don't wear the Iron Man suit in conjunction with that, then what is your estimate?" Pepper was trying hard not to cry. He breathing was erratic.
"I can give you a rough six months, Mr. Stark,"
"At best?"
"At best, considering your condition as of now. It progressed too far,"
"And what if I wear the suit? Only when necessary and I live like a total bum with out means to get alcohol or drugs. What then?"
"If do everything I told you," she replied pointedly, "but you were to wear the suit on necessary occasion..."
"Please, Doctor,"
"I can give you three months no more," she looked over at him in honest brutality.
"The suit, but everything else goes-"
"Three to Six months Mr. Stark. I truly am sorry, but that is the only estimate that I can give you without having a CT of your brain and lungs,"
"As my attending, what do you suggest that I do?" he queried, a sharp and intensive look in his eye.
"As a doctor I can only suggest that you consider the factors. It is my job to keep you alive if that is what you want. The end will not be pleasant for you. The faster it comes the worse it will be, I guarantee you that. Consider Miss Potts, at least, Mr. Stark. Take the six months. The more you wear the suit, the faster the toxins will be released into your system. The faster the process continues, the more toxins can be dispersed. But as a grateful citizen speaking, I can't tell you what to do. I can only do my job her, Mr. Stark,"
"So I have three to six months left to live. At best,"
"Yes Mr. Stark,"
"That's all I needed to know, thank you,"
Pepper couldn't hold back the tears as she left her position at the door for her desk chair at her in home office. After everything he was still dying. And he still hadn't told her.
…
Three to six months. On the inside he was fighting off panic. He was terrified. But it wasn't that he hadn't expected that sort of a prognosis. He just had never expected to know how long he had. Three to six months left. Three to six months of knowing. Now that he knew how long it was harder to see the risky things that he had done as nothing. It was harder to see them as being stunts that he could just brush off with the press after it was over.
In three to six months, he was going to be dead.
What did he want to do in three to six months that was really worth spending his precious time on?
Tony sat down at his desk, removed pencil and paper and began to make a list. He didn't know what to write. Or rather how to write what he wanted to write.
Tell Pepper.
Tell Rhodey.
Tell world.
Sign off assets to Pepper.
Finish will.
He stuck the paper into his pocket after jotting down one more note. But he made no move to get up. There was a struggle going on inside of his head. He was Iron Man. What was his life worth in comparison to other lives?
He, Tony Stark, was a narcissistic filthy rich playboy scientist who dressed up as a super hero in goldenrod yellow metal tights who created and sold weapons at one point in time. They were many innocent (debatable) people – namely citizens- who were in dire need of the protection that he could afford them. His life was worth very little in comparison, at least as he was figuring it right now.
There was only one thing stopping him. Pepper Potts.
…
The phone on his office desk was ringing. Colonel Rhodes lifted that phone from its holding and answered. "Colonel Rhodes speaking,"
"I'm dying Rhodey. Fast. Again. Thought that you should know in advance that I only have three to six months left,"
"Tony?"
"What?"
"You're dying? Again? From what?"
"The new element is just as toxic to my system as the original was. There's just no substitute this time,"
"What can you do to prolong it?"
"I'm already doing what I can do. No alcohol, no medications/drugs stuff like that. It's taken care of. Trust me Rhodey,"
"And what about the suit? If you wear it will it speed up the process?" There was no reply. "Tony. You need to tell me. Now. I won't let you kill yourself with-"
"Yes it speeds up the process and no I am not going to stop being Iron Man. Just because I'm having some trouble breathing right now doesn't mean a thing. It'll take a while yet,"
"I don't believe you," Rhodes replied in frustration. "How can you do this to yourself? What about-"
"What about the people out there whose thousands of lives are worth more that my one. I'm going to die eventually. It's not like it matters how soon. So I might as well spend these months doing good,"
'Who's your medical consultant?" Rhodes asked with urgency. But the phone had already gone dead. He dialed the Assistant's number. "Hello, yes can you please tell me the name of any Dr. that was in to see Mr. Stark? Yes thank you,"
Dr. Lynn Mason. At least she'd tell the truth.
…
"You said you wanted a consult?"
"Yeah, for a friend,"
"...?"
"Anthony Edward Stark,"
"I see," Lynn Mason stood from behind her desk and looked Col. Rhodes in the eyes.
"He's doing what he has to, isn't he?"
"The suit,"
"He's masochistic for a good reason,"
"That's all you have to say?"
"The faster the end come the more painful and hard the going will become. I wouldn't lie to you,"
"I've got to stop him,"
…
Rhodes found Tony in the shop working on something or another, enjoying the loud harsh tones of Rock metal – Black Sabbath in particular since their most famous song was his 'namesake'. "Tony!"
Stark looked up at the sound of his name being called, confused. Rhodes. He knew why he had come. "You're going to get yourself killed!"
"At this point Rhodey, I could care less," Stark replied without so much as a glance at the man who had been his longtime friend. One of few.
"You might care less, but there are other people out there who care quite a lot about you. Mainly Pepper and myself. You do this now, and you alienate us forever. You're in love." With every word, Tony jerked the wrench harder. "Finally. And-". The wrench went flying across the room until it hit a large pile of miscellaneous parts, resulting in a large crash. It was then that Rhodes could finally see Tony fully, His chest was heaving and dark circles had formed under his eyes.
"After all I've been through…I have had ENOUGH Rhodey!" He yelled, gulping breathes. The light had gone out of his eyes, and the determination along with it. They looked - deadened. "I haven't even told Pepper yet," he stated defeatedly as he slumped into his chair and running his hands through his mess of hair. "I don't even know if I can," He closed his eyes, taking deep shuddering breaths.
"This is it for me, Rhodey. Really. I shouldn't even have survived the first time. I took that chance and did something with it. And now, if my time really has run out, then I've done good with what I was given, okay?" He massaged his temple as he chucked breathily. "I finally do good with my life, and have something good in my life, and then technology decides to fail me. Ironic, isn't it?"
Rhodey was regretting everything he had said by this point. "You are a masochist. It doesn't have to be this way, Tony," he intoned shaking his head sadly.
"I don't get any pleasure out of self-destructive habits any longer Rhodey, I'm no masochist. Life just has a way of being really ironic, ya know?"
"No, I don't know,"
"Just promise me one thing,"
"Yeah, whatever it is you need or want," Rhodey could hardly bear looking at his best friend any longer.
"Just - don't tell Pepper. I'll take care of it. Somehow…"
…
"Miss Potts? Mister Stark has asked you to join him in the living room," Jarvis echoed in the hall. The strawberry blonde sighed. Her eyes were red, and he'd notice. She tried to clean herself up and then hurriedly walked down to the living room. He standing by the wall to wall windows, looking extremely preoccupied, one hand in his pocket, the other against the window, and he had leaned his head on his arm for support. She could see it every day, the life slowly slipping from him, as he continued to live his life despite the impediments. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.
"Tony?" He turned around slowly; the strain of just staying standing was taking an obvious toll on his system. He watched her with love in his eyes, and it was as he walked up to her, and embraced her, pressing a kiss to her forehead that she knew what he was about to do.
"Baby, I have something to tell you…"