My first one-shot ever, so please take it with a grain of salt lol. I've always liked Tony Stark, and only liked that much more when he went through so much character development. I really feel like people forgot in Civil War how much was mentally wrong with Stark and they hated him because he was against the Winter Soldier and for the Accords. So I wrote my own (small) one-shot that would display some of his PTSD and anxiety. I'm not an expert, so it may not be extremely correct, so I'm sorrya bout that. It does get a tiny bit graphic, but barely so.
Hope you guys enjoy!
Tony tossed and turned in his large bed. He had sweat on his brow, and his facial expression was one of pain. Every so often he would jerk and make a whimpering sound. A few choked sobs could be heard as well. He was going through something he did almost nightly; his mind came up with terrifying dreams, and he would have no choice but to live through them until morning. That is, on the nights he actually slept. He much more preferred working in his lab with the machines he could trust versus his mind which he could not.
The genius was currently in a new dream, one he had never experienced before. It had started out fine, with him being at a party in New York when he was young, in his early twenties. But it had all gone downhill when he spotted a figure flitting through the crowd. At first he ignored it, but his dream-self's paranoia and curiosity grew and he decided to go and figure out what was going on.
He weaved through the drunken college students, ignoring any attempts that people made to distract him. That thing, that person, was constantly lurking near him during the party up until now. He was going to find out why. The young Tony was determined, a feeling he didn't often feel except towards women at this age.
His feet lead him outside, where the chilly Autumn air immediately rushed over his skin. Goosebumps formed along his arms and neck and he could see his breath, but even with his short sleeve shirt he wanted to continue. Just as he turned his head to the left, he saw the back of a man entering the woods. Tony was certain this was the person that had been around him in the house.
With a bit of sway in his quick pace, he headed into the forest. His friends called to him to come back, but he didn't answer, nor did they come get him. He thought bitterly at how good of friends they were, not coming with him when there was something obviously wrong.
Tony paused when he reached the tree line. He hesitated for a moment before he continued on. He heard the sound of footsteps only a little bit ahead. His legs moved quicker now, and he ignored the pain of the branches that sometimes he didn't fully avoid. His legs moved quicker and quicker, until he was in a full on sprint. The footsteps ahead of him seemed to get faster with his own, but he was adamant on following the man.
He skidded to a halt when he entered a field. The grass was brown, all of it dead, and there were a few tall dead weeds. It was an oval shape field, but the trees that line dit were perfectly healthy and orange, the grass green except past the edge. The man was standing in the middle, his face turned toward Tony. Tony couldn't make out his face exactly in the dark, but his voice sounded eerie when he spoke.
"It's your fault," The man said.
Tony looked at him in confusion, slowly putting foot in front of foot and moving closer to the center. "What is?" He asked after a moment.
"It's your fault he's gone," The man answered. His voice sent chills down Tony's spine. The young man's thoughts immediately went to his father, who had only died a few years ago. Surely he wasn't talking about him?
"Okay man, you're not makin' any sense. You okay?" Tony said, trying to lighten the atmosphere which had grown increasingly dark as soon as he had stepped foot in the dead grass.
"I'm not okay. He's not okay. None of them are okay. And it's your fault," The man said. His voice was emotionless, but the sound of it still made Tony's teeth clench. There was something too familiar about it.
"I have no idea what you're talkin' about. I'm just gonna go back to the party now," He said, about to turn around, but the man quickly spoke up.
"No you're not. You need to pay for what you've done to them."
Now Tony was getting defensive, and a bit angry as his fear materialized at the thought of being killed by some random guy out in the forest. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
Tony walked closer to the man, but something flying through the air stopped him. It flew at the man, hitting his right hand hard. Tony heard the sounds of a machine moving, and a sharp sound that was like a laser getting ready to fire. The man lifted his right hand, and in it a circle of light stood out sharply against the palm of his hand. The light from the circle illuminated the man's features now, and Tony's breath got caught in his throat when he saw the man's face. It was like looking in a mirror twenty years from now. His older self's haunted eyes stared at him, tears streaming down his face.
"I think you do. How many have to get hurt because of you, huh?" The man, the older Tony, said, and he started walking towards the younger man, who felt paralyzed and unable to move.
"Rhodey, Steve, Howard, Bucky, Bruce. How many other men must you destroy? And women? What about Natasha, what about Pepper?" The man said, his voice growing steadily louder. "How many cities must you ruin? New York City, Shakovia. You killed thousands, Tony, all because you chose a job you were wrong for."
"I haven't killed anyone!" Tony said, but not even he believed the truth in his words at the moment. He body seemed to finally respond when the older man was only a few feet away. He started pedalling backwards, far too quickly, and he tripped. He harshly fell, his hands reached out behind him, clenching hard into the edge of the dead grass.
"Not yet," The older man said, his voice now quiet once again as he stood at the young man's feet.
The sound of machine clicking and clacking behind him made the younger Tony freeze. The older Tony looked up behind the college student, and a sick and twisted smile found its way onto his face. When he turned his head around, he almost screamed when he saw what was gathering behind him. Silver humanoid robots with sharp, clear blue lights for eyes were behind him in the hundreds. He looked around and there were more, all standing at the edge of the dead clearing.
"Wha-what's going on?" The young Tony stuttered out as he clambered to his feet and away from the edge. When he looked back at his older self, there was now other people behind him. He recognized Captain America, who had a sinister expression, and though the others had the same appearance, he recognized none of them.
There was one in a silver metal suit, a mask pulled away from his face to reveal a dark skinned man. There was a man with glasses and loose hair and stubble, a tattered lab coat hanging on his skinny frame. A redheaded woman, a man with skin tight armor-like clothing, and one man even had a metal arm with a red star. There was there more than those few, but Tony's heart was racing too quickly with fear and adrenaline to pay attention to their details, now lightened up by the eyes of the robots that surrounded the field.
"There are no strings on me..." The other Tony said, his voice empty.
"There are no strings on me..." The other people chorused.
"There are no strings on me..." Now the robots joined in on their repetition of the phrase.
Then everything quieted. "There are no strings on you..." The other Tony announced.
After that second everything seemed to crash. The robots ran into the clearing, while the people stayed still. Tony felt metal hands attach to his body, and he felt himself being pulled apart. His clothing ripped, and they pulled his hair. But it didn't stopped there. They clawed at him like hungry animals until he felt the blood practically raining out of his body. They pulled and pulled on him from all directions and he felt bones pop out of their appropriate places. His screams of pain went unaddressed, and only grew louder until a few moments later, when he silenced.
The mechanical whirring sound seemed to fade into the background, and he looked up at the night sky.
"There are no strings on me..." He whispered.
"There are no strings on me..."
"There are no strings on me..."
"There are no..."
Right then Tony bolted up in his bed, the sunlight streaming into his room. He was breathing heavily and his head whipped around, looking for any of Ultron's robots in his room. He found none, and when he realized it was just a dream, he put his head into his heads, and brought his knees to his chest. That was one of the worst dreams he's had in awhile. Usually they were simpler, like losing Pepper, or battling with Rodgers and the Winter Soldier. Never had he been torn limb from limb.
"Would you like me to alert someone about your status, sir?" Came the female voice that had replaced JARVIS over the system he had built months ago.
He shook his head. "No, no. I'm alright. I'll be in the lab soon anyway," He answered.
"I am inclined to request that you eat breakfast first sir. You have gone nearly 36 hours without food at this point," The voice replied.
Tony nodded, not bothering to answer verbally.
Time for another day, without Rodgers, Clint, and so many others that he had relied so much on. Time for another day without purpose.
And there we have it. I know it was short, but I'm not too good at making longer things (be it chapters or one-shots) quite well yet. Don't forget to rate & review if you want!