Starting Over: Prologue/Chapter 1
"JARVIS, initiate House Party Protocol," said Tony Stark.
It took a while, a while in which Stark and Rhodey fought their way around the rig, but at the last second they came. Every operational model, every Mark. From the seemingly ancient Mark I to the newly repaired Mark XLII. They circled around the ship waiting to attack at Tony's command. The crew of the ship were scrambling to defend themselves from suits on every side. Aldrich Killian had Pepper locked below the deck and the President suspended from chains.
Rhodey, went to get the president while Tony went after Pepper. He was too late. She tried to help him but ended up dangling precariously off a ledge.
"I'll catch you!" Tony yelled.
She dropped, Tony reached, she fell. There was nothing to save her. The Extremis in her body couldn't compete with broken bones, destroyed organs, and third degree burns.
"No! Pepper!" He watched her fall. Her eyes betrayed her sadness and seemed to call out to Tony. Her last words not even spoken.
I love you. I forgive you. Goodbye.
An anguished sob ripped through his throat. Too late his Iron Man suit flew up encasing him in metal. At this point, there was nothing, NOTHING, anyone could do to stop him. His grief translated to unimaginable pain which transformed into utter destruction. Killian tried to fight but was literally blown away by the arc repulsers in his assailant's hands. Stark utterly demolished the ship. The only people left alive were Rhodey and the President who were both too frightened to console him.
Stark surveyed his conquest. Smoking metal twisted every which way. Fallen Iron Man suits littered the ground, some in pieces. The only sounds were the water lapping the side of the ship and the heavy breathing of the three survivors.
JARVIS's voice cut through the silence.
"Sir, are you alright?" The two onlookers were startled by what sounded like concern in the AI's voice. But he wasn't a real person, right?
"Sir, there are three humans on this ship including yourself, and there are five coast guard ships approaching."
Stark turned and looked at his two companions, retracting the faceplate of his helmet. Rhodey, who had known Stark for years, tensed and inwardly recoiled at the fierce look on his best friend's face.
"Go." His voice was harsh, but quiet. Deadly quiet. "This rig's gonna blow. If anyone asks, I wasn't here. Ever."
Then he turned and walked into the flames leaving his friend gazing sadly at his retreating back.
His life was over. Pepper was gone. Despite his joking to the contrary, Stark was really very observant. He could tell she wouldn't make it. Even taking into account the Extremis drug in her system, she wouldn't be able to recover. The shock of her loss multiplied the effects of his previous panic attacks. His eyes glazed in psychological pain and his body was paralyzed by grief. No. He must master the pain. After a brief moment and several deep, shaky breaths, Stark continued his retreat.
He walked away from the destruction. He walked away from the President. He walked away from his only friend in the world without replacing his face plate. That mistake destroyed his life.
-l-
"Sir? Are you awake? Hello?"
A man groggily blinked his eyes. All he saw was white. And the smell. Ugh. Smelled like a hospital. Disinfectant and rubbing alcohol...wait. It WAS a hospital!
"Where...?" He tried to ask.
"You are at the _ Hospital in _. You were transferred to the intensive care unit from the burns ward. I'm your nurse, Alice." Said woman was standing a few feet from his head, her eyes studying the patient with calculated composure. Her blue nurse's outfit, although correct for her position in the hospital, looked stiff, unused, and very uncomfortable. The man lying on the bed took this in almost automatically. It seemed like a habit, he noticed, but it was forced enough to indicate...repression, maybe? Hm. A puzzle for another time, it seems.
"What happened?" He tried to remember. Something...bad(?) had happened, but it was fuzzy. Kind of slipping away...Pepper! That one name held so many emotions. Frustration, happiness, guilt, love, sadness and joy.
"You were in an accident. An oil rig off the coast blew up and we think you were caught in the blast. You had third degree burns over 85% of your body. It's a miracle that you survived." The nurse, Alice, was watching him closely. From what she had heard about this man, her revelation should provoke a reaction, any reaction.
The man looked up impassively. Why should he care? He was alive, and he had a feeling that Pepper, whoever she was, was not alive. This more than anything else caused the tears to fall. He didn't even notice them until the nurse started looking at him funny, as if it was unexpected. To her, it was. She had expected the great Tony Stark to be angry or demand to see the head doctor or at the very least throwing a bawling fit, not to be silently crying in the bed.
As soon as he saw her looking, he wiped his eyes, his fingers pausing on the new contours of his face. This doesn't seem familiar, he thought. He may not immediately know his name, or why he was crying, but he could definitely tell that his face was wrong. It shouldn't have these...cheekbones! He reached up to his hair. Curls! What on earth?!
"Ah, yes." The nurse seemed to notice his confusion. "As I said, the majority of your body was covered in burns, and you have received extensive plastic surgery. The best money can buy. As you were not conscious, we were not able to request your input and had to consult an outside source."
At this there was a knock on the door. Alice stepped back from her position by his head to gain a better view of the door. Her face lightened in controlled recognition. Her hand made a slight spasm to her outfit's pockets. He noticed this, and also noted the slight bulge in the indicated pocket. From the size and contour, it looked like a BlackBerry-wide, thin, slightly rounded on the corners. His observation took less than a second, but in that time another man had stepped into the hospital room.
The first thing that drew his attention were the shoes. They were a crisp, shiny black off of which the muted hospital lights gleamed. Traveling further upward, he noticed the impeccably tailored suit and off to the side, a peculiarity. Was it raining? He couldn't tell since his bed was not situated near a window, but this man carried an umbrella. Not one of those wimpy extendable umbrellas, but a long, bona fide Mary Poppins umbrella (minus the bird's head). Finally, his gaze reached the newcomer's face. It was almost pasty pale and what little hair he could see was a feathery brown. The man turned his supercilious face on the patient.
"Ahh, you're awake." Of course. A voice to match the face. And of course it had that lovable but oh so condescending accent that made you want to punch the speaker. "I am mildly surprised that you have recovered so quickly, especially due to the extent of your injuries." The patient glared at the man.
"I don't know who you are, why you are in my room, or what authority you think you have to speak to me like that, but I would really appreciate you getting very far away from me."
The other man glanced down his upturned nose with a wry smile. "Now why would I do that? I am responsible for your recovery, you know."
"I am perfectly fine looking after myself. I don't need a babysitter. I may not know who I am, but I am certain I don't know you."
An amused expression flitted across the man's face. "I am wounded you think of me so. Then again, I haven't seen you since you were, maybe, five years old? Oh, you've got it now. The gears in your head are practically flying. You see, I am your older brother, Mycroft Holmes."
A/N
I've been working on this (and my other story) for a really long time, and I wanted to make a few minor changes to this first chapter. Thanks for reading!
