Here ya have it, a one-shot of Tony's anxiety. I had fun writing this, though I was sort of overwhelmed with feels. Tony Stark is my favorite Avenger of all time. I, too, have anxiety, so the feels are just...GAHHHH when Tony suffers as well. Anxiety sucks. It really does. So I just wanted to write about all those feels Tony was having. He felt broken. He felt weak. He wanted to be fixed, yet he didn't know how.
Please review! Lemme know what ya thought.
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He'd listened.
He'd thought.
He'd debated.
He'd wondered.
He'd worried.
Then, he'd watched her fall.
"Listen, the Pentagon is scared. After New York…aliens. Come on. You need to look strong."
Strong. How could he be strong? He wasn't. He was but he wasn't. He was a mechanic. He needed to fix things. He'd fixed New York. Barely.
Oh, New York. Really? Did he have to bring that up again? The aliens, the wormhole, the terror…It'd left him with nightmares for weeks. Yet no one knew that. They didn't need to know that. He was Iron Man. He was strong. He was a mechanic. He would fix this. He had to.
But then again, what if he didn't fix things? He was nothing, then. Mark 27 had been a flop. But Mark 28 had been nearly perfect. Just a few tweaks here and there that Mark 29 had fixed, but then that one had problems, too. No matter. He was getting there. He would create that perfect suit soon. And if he didn't, well, that wasn't an option.
"You need to look strong."
Gosh, why did he have to reflect back on that time? Stupid Rhodey. Stupid New York. Stupid crayon. Had he really scribbled over that girl's drawing? Great, now it was ruined. He couldn't fix that. He couldn't fix the way he was, either. He'd barely fixed New York for pete's sake. And now Rhodey was asking more of him, this girl was asking more of him…
"How did you get out of the wormhole?"
Too much. Tony stormed out of there, heart racing, sweat beads forming. He felt nauseous, weak, light-headed. Everything he was not and could not be. He felt like vomiting, like fainting. He couldn't breathe. He wanted this fixed. The mechanic in him needed this to be fixed. Pronto.
He hurried past the people, stumbling, and walked into Mark 7.
"Check the heart, check the-the-the, check the…is it the brain?"
It had to be. Heart, brain, one of those. Easy to fix. J.A.R.V.I.S. could diagnose it, medication would be given, and he would be better. He would be stronger. He would be fixed.
J.A.R.V.I.S stated that it wasn't, and instead said, ever so carefully: "My diagnosis is that you've experienced a severe anxiety attack."
An anxiety…what? It didn't…it couldn't…there wasn't any way. He was Iron Man. He was a billionaire. He loved a crowd and attention. He was a mechanic. He invented things. Fixed things. He couldn't be broken. It didn't make sense.
Then, he'd left. Gone back to his home.
And tinkered.
Pepper didn't understand. "They're machines."
But they weren't. They were part of him. In a sense, they were him. Because without the suit, there was no Iron Man. And without Iron Man, there was no Tony Stark. There was no him.
Tony knew things had been different since New York. It was obvious. Pepper even knew that, not that she was unintelligent in any sense. It's just that…Tony wasn't good at making his feelings clear. That wasn't his job. His job was to be Iron Man and to tinker. And if he couldn't make any of those things happen…then what? Every single time a thought of New York blossomed in his brain, every single time he had a nightmare, he tinkered. He worked on his suits. He talked to J.A.R.V.I.S. He improved with his skills. He kept to himself.
But he was no longer by himself, now. He couldn't just work on making himself stronger, like Rhodey wanted, or the world wanted. If it was only him, then fine. He would survive.
Yet it wasn't just him. He had Pepper. The most important thing in his life. He knew he would never be able to fix it if anything happened to her. That sense sat in the back of his brain, nagging him.
And the nights. That one night in particular. He'd had nightmares. The wormhole, New York, Pepper. All of those images rushed through him at once. He wanted them to stop, yet they wouldn't. The only thing that awoke him was Pepper's scream.
Tony freaked when he saw one of his many Marks grabbing Pepper. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart rate accelerated. Yet he hardly noticed that. He only noticed Pepper—worried, scared, vulnerable—and how he wouldn't be able to fix her if something happened.
"Power down!"
The Mark released its hold on his Pepper. Tony then smashed it to pieces in one swift movement. He sat there, then, on the bed, feeling awful. He didn't even know exactly how he felt. Like he had before, though, at the restaurant. Weak. Light-headed. Vulnerable. Scared. Sick. Worried. What if Pepper had been injured? There were no take-backs with her. He couldn't tighten a bolt or re-glue a piece back on her. If she had been hurt…
"I must have called it in my sleep," he sputtered. How exactly was he even talking when he was having so much anxiety? "This wasn't supposed to happen."
It wasn't.
Yet Pepper didn't understand. She stood, ready to leave. But she couldn't leave. It would be almost like losing her.
"Don't go," Tony pleaded as he struggled to regain his breath. He seriously couldn't breathe, and every time he tried to, he felt worse. Would it be forever like this? No, he had to fix it somehow. Maybe if he asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to add a new program…or maybe if he improved Mark 40 just a little bit he could add something to it that helped with the anxiety. Anything to fix it. Something.
But right then, he needed Pepper, and when she had walked away, a bit of him tore inside. What he loved most had just been threatened by what he needed in order to survive. And if he didn't have his suits, how would he live? But if he didn't have Pepper—if anything happened to her—what then?
No one understood. Tony had wondered. He'd worried. He'd contemplated every little thing he could add to his suits to prevent this newfound anxiety from happening. If he prevented the anxiety, he could prevent Pepper from getting hurt. Maybe then his nightmares would go away. Maybe then he could sleep peacefully.
But this would only happen if he fixed his suits, which proved to be a much more difficult task than he imagined.
"You know what this crater reminds me of? That giant wormhole in New York!"
Wormhole again? Don't…don't… He tried to breathe. In, out. In, out. Wormhole, Pepper. Mark attacking her in the night…where was she now? Did she even get his message? Was she in a threatening situation that Tony couldn't fix? Why had he even been wearing the prototype! It was stupid, unsafe, and put Pepper in harms' way. Had he really not developed a device, yet, that he could get in contact with her if J.A.R.V.I.S. ever malfunctioned? Stupid! Stupid! He hadn't fixed J.A.R.V.I.S. even yet, he was trapped God-knows-where, and Pepper was in danger. And he couldn't fix any of it. The mechanic in him longed for something to put together. Tighten a few bolts, hammer a few nails, and done. Fixed. Improved, even. The Iron Man in him demanded him to stay strong. He couldn't be weak. He was Iron Man. All 40-some of his suits provided that. And it was the suits that mattered, really. They were almost perfect, while he was…flawed.
Anxiety. He couldn't have that. He didn't want it. It ruined him. It weakened him. He was broken. And if he was broken, how could he ever fix anything ever again? He didn't even know how to fix him. Tinkering with his Marks helped, but now even those machines, as Pepper called them, were dangerous.
He couldn't…
Don't. Don't. Stop. You can fix this. You can fix this.
He had to fix this. He would. No question.
Yet he wasn't becoming fixed. He could tell. He was just growing worse. More broken. After only a short while, he went from not knowing he even had anxiety to it becoming a daily occurrence. His thoughts were constantly consisting of Pepper. She had to be safe. She had to be all right. She had to fine, because if she wasn't, if she was broken like Tony already was….
New York. The wormhole. Danger. Nightmares. Pepper. Iron Man. He was Iron Man. Because of his suits. And with each different suit he made that didn't fit his exact needs, he become more depressed. More anxious. More broken.
No, Harley was working on the suit, J.A.R.V.I.S. was talking again (though he added cranberry to the end of his sentences). Whatever. He would fix it later. Right now he had to go to Miami.
"I need the armor. Where are we at with it?" The armor. It would be fine. Harley had been working on it, J.A.R.V.I.S. was up and about, though his speech was a little off, but that's ok, easy fix. The armor, well, it had taken a beating, but it had been built for that. He'd tested it numerous times. As long as J.A.R.V.I.S. was up and about…yeah, this was fine. It would be fine.
"Uh, it's not charging."
He screeched to a reeling halt, barely managing to get off the road before his breathing quickened, his heart rate accelerated, and sweat beads formed. He quickly took his hands off the wheel like they were burned. They continued to shake as Tony fidgeted in his seat.
No, this wasn't right. The suit was supposed to be charging. J.A.R.V.I.S. was supposed to be working on it. It was supposed to be ready for him to be Iron Man. He had to be Iron Man. He had to be strong. He couldn't…no, it had to be working.
J.A.R.V.I.S. chimed in, "Actually, sir, it is charging, but the power source is questionable. It may not succeed in revitalizing the Mark 42."
Questionable? Nothing was questionable about electricity. Electricity always worked. It had to work. He needed it to work. He needed it to be fixed. What did J.A.R.V.I.S. and Harley not understand about that? He didn't want… No, he couldn't have…
His breathing quickened. "It's my suit, and I can't… I'm not gonna... I don't wanna…"
No, this wasn't happening again. He couldn't let it happen. Anxiety was not an option for him. He was Iron Man. He was a mechanic. He always fixed things. He couldn't continue to be broken.
Tony stumbled out of the car, unable to breathe.
"Tony?"
He just needed to breathe. Breathing was easy, right? Everyone could breathe.
But he couldn't. He seriously couldn't breathe.
"You need to look strong."
But he wasn't strong. He was weak. He was vulnerable. He had anxiety. He couldn't fix his suits. Pepper was in danger. The Mandarin was out there. J.A.R.V.I.S. was off. And he was broken.
The billionaire man. The smart-ass (yeah, he knew he was a smart-ass). The playboy. The genius. The mechanic. The Iron Man. He was all those things. Before. Not now. He wasn't those now. Right now he was just…no one. He was a man who couldn't breathe. Couldn't fix anything. Couldn't save the woman he loved. Couldn't even repair a simple suit. He was broken. Now and forever. And if he couldn't fix his suits…how could he ever fix himself?
"Are you having another attack? I didn't even mention New York."
"Right, and then you just said it by name while denying having said it."
He fell on the ground by his car and wrapped his arms around himself. His breathing became labored. His eyes filled with tears. He wasn't used to this. He never would be used to this. Billionaire playboy. That's what he was. Was. Used to be. Wasn't anymore. Now he was just broken. Plagued by anxiety attacks.
"Oh, God, what am I gonna do?"
"You're a mechanic, right?"
"Right." At least, he thought he was.
"You said so."
"Yes, I did." He did? Yes, he did. He remembered that. He remembered building all 42 of his suits. He built things. He was a mechanic. Mechanics built things.
And that's what he did. He built a new Iron Man suit. Well, a smaller version of one consisting of fertilizer, Christmas ornaments, and ant control. More or less.
He was better then. He was a mechanic. He knew that. He'd proved that, too. Now, all he needed was to stop the Mandarin and Pepper would be safe.
But she was never safe. Not with him, anyway. Why did she even stay? She deserved better. She didn't deserve him. A playboy. A freak with anxiety. Broken. She didn't deserve someone who was broken.
Yet, Tony needed her. He needed her more than anything. She was everything he had. The suits…those were his trinkets. Those were what he tinkered with in the dead of night when he couldn't sleep due to nightmares. Those were his escape holes. Those were what protected Pepper. Those were him.
But somehow, that wasn't enough. Somehow, Pepper was enough for him. He knew that. If he could ditch the suits simply for her…he would. In a heartbeat. But he couldn't. Because without those suits, there was no Iron Man. And without Iron Man, Pepper had no one to protect to her. He couldn't allow her to be broken. She was beautiful, smart, stubborn…everything he didn't deserve. And if anything ever happened to her because of his selfishness…
But everything happened to her.
"This is live."
Pain.
Shaking.
Fear.
Vulnerability.
Breaking.
Pepper.
"If the body gives up…I have to say, the detonation is quite spectacular."
Defeat.
Desperation.
"But until that point, it's really just a lot of pain."
Selfishness.
Guilt.
Broken.
Anxiety.
No, he couldn't handle this. He couldn't watch. Pepper was becoming broken because of him. He didn't even know that was possible. Her to be broken. But as he watched her, glowing orange and suffering pains unimaginable to him…no, he could imagine it. He was feeling it. The pain he felt…. The guilt. He couldn't bear it. He had to look away. But he couldn't.
Breathing quickening.
Heart rate accelerating.
Brokenness.
But he refused to remain broken, then. He couldn't. Pepper needed him, and the only way she could be saved was if Iron Man appeared. Not him. Not Tony Stark. Not the mechanic. Iron Man. He needed Iron Man. But he wasn't Iron Man. His suit was gone. He was just Tony. Tony with the anxiety. Tony that was broken. Really, he wasn't even the mechanic.
And Pepper was falling. She was breaking. He was losing her. He couldn't lose her.
"I have to protect the one thing that I can't live without. That's you."
No, he could never live without her. She was his everything. Without her, he would be more lost than he already was. He was a broken mess of anxiety. He wasn't even him anymore. He didn't have his suits. He wasn't Iron Man.
"They're machines."
But they weren't just machines. They were him.
"You need to look strong."
He couldn't. He wasn't. He never was. His suits made him strong. And now he didn't have any of those. He just had him, and as he reached out to try and grab Pepper—his life, his soul, his heart—he knew that wouldn't be enough. He would never be enough. He wasn't. Not since New York. Not since Mark 2 or Mark 13 or Mark 42. Not since the anxiety. Bit by bit, he had been tearing apart inside. It was his suits that held him together. Made him look stronger. Made him feel stronger. Made him Iron Man. But it was Pepper who didn't let him break in two. He was holding on by a thread, and the glue he needed to keep that thread together was falling.
Anxiety.
Breaking.
Desperation.
Guilt.
"I'll catch you, I promise."
Yet what was a promise worth to someone like her from someone like him? He didn't even trust himself anymore, so he had no doubt in his mind that Pep would not trust him.
Anxiety raging.
Breathing quickening.
Heart rate accelerating.
Everything he loved. Everything he needed. Out of reach.
Falling, falling, falling.
"I can't live without you."
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
"Don't go."
"I'll catch you, I promise."
Falling.
Vulnerable.
Fear.
Vanished.
He was broken.
And now she was gone.
And in that moment, Tony wasn't Tony anymore. He never felt like he was, though. He was always a mechanic. He was Iron Man. He fixed things. He didn't go by Tony. Only Pepper called him that. And now she was gone. He couldn't save her. The one thing he wanted to save. The one thing he needed to save…he'd lost. Because he had been him. He had been desperate. And scared. And vulnerable. And anxious. And broken. He'd been broken. He hadn't fixed himself. He couldn't fix himself. He'd been him. And that cost him her.
So he vowed not to be. Quickly regaining his composure, Tony found a suit. There. He was Iron Man. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't broken. He was Iron Man. He was fixed. He was okay. He didn't have to worry, because there was nothing to worry about. Iron Man hadn't dropped Pepper. Tony had. And Iron Man had destroyed Killian. While Tony then lay on the ground. Wounded. Lost. Broken. Anxious. Fearful.
"I'll catch you, I promise."
He'd broken his promise. He'd lost her.
Until…
Pepper, glowing orange, breathing heavily, stood in front of him.
"I got nothing." Yet he had everything. She was safe. She was okay. He had kept his promise. Not entirely, sure, but she'd lived.
And nothing scared Tony more in those moments then when a Mark aimed itself at Pepper.
Power down. Power down. Power down.
He couldn't. Ear piece…missing.
"I must have called it in my sleep."
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
"Don't go."
Had he called this Mark on her again? And now he couldn't power down. He couldn't save her. He was Tony. He was lost. Anxious. Fearful. Broken.
No answer. No answer. Pepper, why didn't you answer? New York. Nuke. Wormhole. Pepper….
He couldn't save her. He couldn't. He was going to lose the one thing he loved most again, and this time, it would most certainly be on him.
Anxiety raging, Tony anticipated Pepper to be gone from his life forever. He anticipated him being lost. Broken to bits.
"Stop pretending to be a hero."
"Is everything a joke to you?"
"The only thing you really fight for is yourself."
Self-hate.
He broke everything.
He couldn't fix anything. He couldn't fix this moment now.
And yet, that moment never came. Pepper saved herself. Flaming body in a sports bra and all. Without Iron Man. Without Tony. And all Tony could managed to say was, "You just scared the devil out of me."
"You know, I think I understand why you don't want to give up these suits."
She said she understood. She said she got it. But she didn't. She figured it was because they protected Tony. But they didn't protect him. He didn't need protecting. He honestly couldn't care if he died in an hour or in fifty years. The only reason he lived was because of Pepper. The only reason he kept those suits was because of her. Because he felt he needed them to be Iron Man. Because he needed to protect her. And twice those suits had turned on him.
And twice Pepper had protected herself.
"Am I going to be okay?"
"Yeah, I think I can get you better. That's what I do. I fix stuff." He did fix things. Suits, sure. J.A.R.V.I.S, yeah, when he needed it. Himself, well, that needed a bit of work. A few tweaks here and there, he could handle it. But Pepper. She didn't need fixing. Yeah, the glowing skin was a bit of a problem, he admitted. But she was perfect. She was strong, beautiful, confident, intelligent. And she didn't need Tony. He knew that. He did. He'd know that for years. Pepper didn't need him. She was probably even better off without him. Yet…
"And, all your distractions?"
The nightmares. New York. The wormhole. When he had those distractions, he tinkered. Not because he wanted to improve his suits. Not because he felt the need to tinker because he was a mechanic. But because of Pepper. He needed to protect her. She could not be broken because of him.
And somehow she had survived death twice.
By herself.
Without Tony.
Without Iron Man.
Without his suits.
Without him.
"Screw it, it's Christmas."
And it was. Pepper was safe, the Mandarin was dead, and Tony, well…he was finally Tony. Not a billionaire playboy. Not a freak with anxiety. Not a man in a suit. He was the same old smart-ass, grease stained mechanic he had always been. Before the Avengers. Before Pepper. Before New York. He was Tony. He was Iron Man. No suit needed. And for some reason, that was okay.