II
1987
Late May, Tony graduates summa cum laude, as the youngest person to ever do so in MIT. (It is two days after his birthday and that was a spectacular party that will not be forgotten for a long time, but all the people who took part in it were clever enough to not say anything and show up on the graduation looking fresh and composed.)
Howard is there for half an hour, takes pictures with Tony and Maria, smiling, and praises Tony to the journalists who desperately want some material on the famous family, but he doesn't actually say a word to Tony in private.
Rhodey graduates, too. Both him and Tony are glad to be out of the place at the same time, even if it means getting separated now: Rhodey in going to enter the Air Force. Tony… Tony doesn't really know what to do. Howard and Obie want him to study further – but better yet, to start and internship for Stark Industries. His mother says she would prefer is he studied a bit longer before working, even though he's just got his degree; she doesn't push him.
Tony is angry and driven and high most of the time, it makes him feel perfect. He knows that going back to living with his parents is not an option, since it would definitely mean lack of freedom, and he's grown used to his freedom. And that would mean no parties, no girls and no drugs, at least not enough.
He is smart to realize that it's not the best way to live his life, but decides to say fuck off to the world and do what he wants. He is young, young and invincible.
Just a few days after the graduation, Tony still lives in his apartment near the campus – he has the whole month to make a decision – Neil Young's newest album comes out and while it's not his 70s glory, there is this one song Tony can't get out of his head, and it ends like this:
Why do we incinerate
Why don't we illuminate
Around the world.
Tony doesn't know how, but between his unconditional love for cocaine that he is not going to deny, an absent mother, Howard producing most of the USA weapons even though he claims he is a pacifist, and the crazy shit the world is going through, Tony has grown up to be an idealist.
So he decides to do just that: illuminate. Get a PhD as soon as possible. Work and travel and build neat stuff to his liking. Conquer. Make the world better.
2013
It's after noon when Tony gets a feeling that someone is observing him – it's stronger and more… corporeal than being aware of the cameras, he's grown used to that – and when he drags himself up to look towards the inside the house, he sees a familiar figure.
Or phantoms a familiar figure, it could be either.
But the figure moves closer and closer until it reaches the entrance to Tony's cell and Tony is willing to believe that it really is Steve, having Captain's muscle tone, his blond hair, those genuine eyes –
Captain's hand grabs the handle and the doors don't open. That is no surprise, if Toma has disappeared, he probably knew that something was wrong – bad enough for him not to come and get his precious prisoner, but not bad enough to forget taking care of the place's security. Steve tries to force the doors open, but they don't move at all; Tony just stares with his eyes blank. He doesn't mind waiting a minute or five or a day, now that he knows they are – there, so close, so close.
Steve doesn't seem to think the same; he says something but the wall that separates the room from the house is completely soundproof and Tony just taps his ear and shakes his head for no. It's a delicate, weighed move, but it makes his dizzy anyway, and he's quite sure that if he got up, he'd throw up whatever wasn't left in his stomach. Steve tries to kick the door a few more times, but it doesn't even flinch, so he makes the time sign and disappears.
Tony's head drops to the bed.
It's only a few moments before Thor comes and wrecks the wall with his hammer, sending a huge pieces of glass crashing on the floor, leaving a cascade of shards falling the floor with tingling rain-like noise.
Then he is surrounded by sounds, it's all Tony, Tony, Tony, it's all his name and are you all right and of course he is not and are you with us to which Tony nodds, not trusting his throat.
He can only imagine how he must look, there are – were – enough surfaces in which he could watch his reflection for the last few days, when he still had strength do drag himself up. Toma has cut his hair and let him shave, under observation from the madman's curious eyes, but it's been a week so Tony's face is covered with a strange-length uncomfortable stubble, his hair an uneven mess, his eyes sunken and dark.
He must have lost at least twenty pounds, too, between the decreased appetite that she gave him and last handful of days with no food at all.
'We need to get him out of here and to a doctor,' Steve commands, his voice almost not shaking, and that's what they do. Thor picks Tony up carefully and with ease, as if he were nothing but a doll, and walks out of the room. Tony is too tired to even look at the rest of the house, at the second circle of hell.
It takes them a moment to get to a car that's waiting on the mansion's driveway.
'It's five minutes 'till we get to the jet, and there will be a doctor waiting, I've told them already. You'll manage?'
'Yeah,' Tony rasps out, immediately regretting it as his throat feels like it's on fire.
'That's good, that's amazing, just don't fall asleep now, okay?'
Tony just rolls his eyes slightly because come on, he's not concussed or anything, but the he figures that maybe he looks bad enough to make them all think he's going to just die.
He hasn't lived through three months with Toma – why the hell is it always three months, anyway? – to die so easily. He's quite determined to find out what has happened with the man, or what will happened with him, before he actually sleeps.
It seems like only a second before he is on the jet and the whole team runs around like mad; Tony would have laughed if it was any other situation. Some S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor he doesn't recognize, but she is in the uniform, and Bruce connect him to EKG and oximeter and hook him up to an IV before the jet even manages to take off.
They talk to him, tell him what they are doing and what are the results of the quick tests, but Tony can't bring himself to listen.
Just a few minutes earlier he was still – there. He has the room memorized so well, his body used to being cooped in in the small space, that he is quite sure he'll automatically go to his right and try to find a bathroom as soon as he is let out of the bed, if he won't consciously stop himself.
The doctor attaches another IV to his arm and then Tony blacks out.
When Tony wakes up, it's not in a white room on a Helicarrier but in his own bed in Stark Tower, what is rather surprising. He is still attached to an IV, but that's not unexpected, it must be fluids. There is a tube going into his nose, too, filled with a creamy liquid he's has a change to be acquainted with: calories being pumped straight into his stomach.
There is no one in the room, but JARVIS speaks up as soon as Tony tries to sit up.
'Welcome home, sir,' he states with an artificial warmth in his voice. 'If you are wondering where are your teammates, there has been an attack and they have been called to assemble.'
'Where, J?' Tony manages, his voice still breaking.
'… to a few places, sir,' the A.I. replies reluctantly.
'What do you mean?' Tony asks, lying back and closing his eyes; the artificial light he hasn't been subjected to – other than the city's street lamps far away – seems to make his eyes hurt. He can feel a lingering headache, too.
'There have been five attacks of armed men with high-tech robots, there is no information about who has made those yet, in Washington D.C, San Francisco, New Orleans, Tucson, Chicago. S.H.I.E.L.D. has their regular member onsite, together with a few people they have managed to call in.'
'Fuck,' Tony curses, because seriously, he has no idea what's been going on in the world for the last three months. This seems kind of sudden and it probably isn't at all, it's just that all that Tony has seen recently was sunsets and sunrises and sunsets.
They don't know exactly who is behind, which is bad, and Tony has no idea what happened to Toma, and he would very much like to hear the story. He can't help but connect those two facts in one in his head, even if it might be forced… He knows he is still too weak to even walk, not to mention fight anyway.
'How long have I been unconscious?'
'About 38 hours, sir. You were given medicine to make sure you would get proper rest without straining your body further; you vitals were very bad when you were recovered.'
And he's been without her for seven full days now, no traces of the drug in his system, but it really doesn't mean he needs her any less.
'I have orders from Doctor Banner to issue another dose of the sleeping medicine if you agree to it. Your body is still very strained and it would only do you good, unless you will sleep on your own.'
'You know I won't,' Tony murmurs, what is equal to saying yes, please.
He blacks out again, and it's a pleasant feeling because it makes everything else go away, and Tony is not quite sure he can deal with his – feelings, at the moment. Both physically and mentally.
The next time he wakes up, it is dark in the room and dark outside and Tony sits up suddenly at the sound of someone's breathing, there is another person inside and he doesn't know who and he hasn't been around a human being for more than fifteen minutes for such a long time and if someone is there it must be –
– only that it isn't, he realizes when Pepper's soft voice emerges from the darkness and she puts her hands on Tony's shoulders delicately, but the motion is firm.
'It's okay, Tony. You are in Stark Tower. I am here with you. Yes? Do you understand me?'
'Sure I do,' Tony assures her cockily, well, attempts, since his voice comes out all cranky; he lets her push him back to the bed though.
'Do you feel okay? You've been asleep for over two days; JARVIS has been monitoring you, he said everything is okay and Bruce assured me it's good for you to get all this sleep… He's been reading your results on his phone –'
'They are not here?' Tony asks in confusion. Surely after so much time…
'We've been having a bit of a… crisis, you could say,' Pepper tell him reluctantly. 'SI is closed for a week, since people are not advised to go out of their houses, you know, this is much safer this way, and I'm here since we've closed the offices and –'
'Just what exactly is happening, Pepper?' Tony cuts in, his thoughts out of control, a crisis, what does crisis mean in Pepper-tongue? Nation-wide at least, it seems?
Just, what the hell?
'According to S.H.I.E.L.D. during last few weeks there have been disturbances in various scientific research points all across the country, some things got stolen, there was virus here and there… It just all turned out to be an attempt to overthrow the government and even though it was not successful – the president and all the important people are safe and sound – there is an incredible mess in the country right now. Most of the police was sent out to deal with those groups – terrorists, they call themselves usurpers and laugh at us, Tony, it's insane – and normal people don't go out on the streets since there are fights and they have robots, too, quite ingenious. It's – worse than the Chitauri, since they were almost everywhere…'
'Were?'
'We are doing a good job at containing them now – haven't you noticed? It's dark outside. Really dark. Almost all the electricity is down in the city. We are lending some from the arc reactor.'
Tony considers, but for the short moment he was actually up and looking through the window, it didn't strike him as anything special, the darkness with scarce lights, and foggy stars.
It is what he's been seeing for hours and hours and hours, from his widow in the magical room.
Tony's eyes easily adjust to the familiar darkness and when he finally sees Pepper's face well enough, he can tell she's worried out of her mind, so he offers her a crooked smile. Whatever his brain and body might want to do, they have to wait.
'Do they have – a leader, of sorts?' he asks, the question sounding much more tentative that he intended it to be, but at least it doesn't sound – personal.
'There was a man, yes – how do you know?'
'What is, was, whatever – his name?' Tony ignores her inquiry, closing his eyes and trying to ignore his heart beating faster in his chest, almost like when –
stop fucking thinking. Focus. Focus.
'I don't know, Tony, Fury might but it's not important. This is important; are you okay? Bruce said you might be a bit dizzy and weak –'
'I know what to expect, don't coddle me like a baby!' Tony snaps, immediately regretting it, but words of apology feel too big to come out of his mouth. 'I'm okay, I'm good, perfect, not dying, I've been starved a little but it doesn't matter, it's nothing terrible, I'll be okay! Just – just tell me where they are. JARVIS, positions?'
Tony can feel Pepper moving away from him, the shape of her body looking like a shadow in the darkness. JARVIS starts to recite the Avengers' locations, based on the last calls, and they are split between D.C. and Chicago, since those two locations were the worst and also the closest. Funny thing that New York hasn't been attacked, but maybe it's just too well-protected.
'Starved? And a little? You were – are still – underweight, you were underweight by ten pounds and it's not something you can just wave off! You were almost too weak to breathe properly, and you tore the oxygen mask each time we've managed to put it on!' Pepper exclaims, adding more and more words that Tony can't quite concentrate on; the things she's talking about seem only vaguely important and he can't be bothered to care.
There is one thought in his head, now, and he can't make it go away: they don't know.
They don't know, and Tony feels like he could make a victory dance and kiss someone in a thankful gesture and it's better than dreams.
His dreams were that someone comes and gets him out, less and less likely to actually happen in reality each week – but someone+ came. And Tony is doing good. He doesn't – crave her.
1987
Tony ends up staying in his apartment all July, too, and there are two reasons: one, he still needs to make more detailed plans about how he wants to handle his future PhD; two, all his friends stay in the area for summer, working and having lots of fun and that's not what Tony wants to skip.
Even Rhodey is there, since he has a few more weeks before starting his training. Rhodey still hates when Tony hangs out with his crowd, but at least Tony manages to talk him into bringing some beer every time they meet, since Rhodey is 21 now.
Howard is pushing Tony to stark working for Stark Industries, even if not officially, but Tony refuses. The more Howards insists, the better Tony know that he needs to be away from all that.
The more Howard insists, the angrier Tony is and it always ends up one way; there is one way only to help him chill out and tell his father mentally to go fuck himself. Tony has enough coke in stashed in his apartment than an average drug dealer, he is sure, it's all the best stuff. He greets her in the morning and says goodbye in the evening and it's a perfect love-love relationship.
It doesn't really matter if he gets nosebleeds now and then; no one knows.
2013
It takes the country a week to calm down enough to go back to quasi-normal functioning; the power is back in all places and the shops are open again, as well as most businesses. Stark Industries is operating almost normally, under Pepper's watchful eye.
It takes Tony five days to be let out of his bed even though he really isn't feeling so bad, besides – besides. Yeah. It's not as easy to forget how his body got used to the drug when he doesn't have some crazy conspiracy theory to occupy his mind. So he doesn't protest too much when they insist he sleep a lot with a very pleasant help from medicine flowing into his veins; he ends up sleeping like twenty hours a day and it's – great. It's blissful. He doesn't have to think at all when he is sleeping and it's a total opposite of the prison room.
After the five days of feeling like dying of hunger, surprisingly, he feels nauseous every time he is awake and he one time he tries to eat something, he just vomits it quite soon, so they don't force him anymore.
But Tony is doing ok, he thinks. Bruce insists he rest when they have a teleconference though; Pepper listens to Bruce as if his words were the voice of god. Finally, the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor comes – the Avengers are still out of New York – and does a quick check-up on Tony; she removes the feeding tube and tells him to eat light food in small portions every hour or so and not to strain himself.
Like that is going to happen.
Tony knows nothing was really wrong with him but malnutrition and weight loss and exhaustion, but it's all better now.
Pepper asks him if he wants to talk about what has happened and he says no. She has expected a no, so she backs away quickly. Tony can't blame her.
The two days before other Avengers come back, Tony spends mostly in the workshop, trying to find his rhythm but he can't and it's fucking terrifying, maybe even more than that first time when Toma pierced his skin with the needle professionally and –
Shut. Up.
When JARVIS flickers the lights on and pulls up specs for some projects on the screens and holograms simultaneously, it feels like a bomb of light and data in Tony's head and he closes his eyes immediately, shiver running through his body. Of course. Overstimulation. He's been doing nothing, literally nothing, and in a drugged state most of the time, so his perception is off and now he needs to go back to his routine – slowly.
Tony Stark doesn't do slowly, until this one time when he has to.
'What the fuck,' he murmurs, feeling the hum of the electricity and various other noises of the 'shop and they bother him; he's just too restless. 'JARVIS, turn the holo off. And dim the lights to 50%, make it look natural. Drop this crazy florescent glow.'
'Of course, sir,' the A.I. replies and follows his orders immediately. There is nothing to be done with the echoing hollow sounds though, and somehow, loud music doesn't seem to be a solution.
When Tony opens his eyes to see the workshop for the second time, it's much better; only the screens are full of colors and information, but everything else is dimmed, and it feels like half an hour after sunset. Very well. It feels okay.
Only that it isn't, Tony realizes before and hour has passed. It totally isn't. He has too many ideas that have flickered though his head during those three months, all of them need to be written down as soon as possible, maybe not put into life yet but they can't be forgotten. He keeps going, talking with JARVIS, discussing, sparring verbally; it's all great, it's what he's missed so much, but – it doesn't make him feel any better.
He thought it would but it doesn't and it makes him feel just worse. He is – overwhelmed, for the lack of a better words. And slow and apathetic and while he knows he needs to act, he doesn't feel that at all. His body only wants to go to bed, but he can't fall asleep; he can imagine he could lay there for endless hours.
And he needs to know what has happened to Toma, if his suspicions are right, and no one wants to give him any information through the web, which is totally understandable given the latest adventures with computer viruses.
The Avengers all come back eight days after they found Tony and disappeared to save the world; they are tired – but okay. No one is hurt and Tony can't help but smile widely at them. Everything seems so much easier with them suddenly around, even if Tony wishes they wouldn't say so much at once; it's confusing him. But okay. Time.
The first thing they do is, of course, order a lot of take-out and sit on the rugs and sofas in the main area. Tony discovers that he is finally feeling hungry, as in not ravenous but actually feeling like he wants to eat and it might be pleasant. That would be good if he wasn't aware that it's just a phase of withdrawal, come on, he's been through that so many times. It's going to last for some time, until his body feels somehow satisfied, having substituted all the lost calories, and he's going to feel like he could eat a lot all the time. One good thing in this situation, everyone will be only happy when he puts on weight, especially Bruce. Just – not too fast.
Moderation is the key and Tony's always been terrible at it.
The next three days are being in constant motion and leave Tony exhausted, exhausted like he hasn't felt in years or maybe decades. Another symptom. He would be tired anyway, between all the talks and debriefs and meetings… He manages to drag himself out of the bed in the morning though, so it's not so bad. Or at least, it could be worse.
There is a meeting of Avengers with Fury and Tony finally learns some details about the attacks and the whole madness. It turns out it was Toma's friends who scheduled the mess, only that he didn't boast so much and Tony wasn't aware that the organization was worldwide and under the skin of many countries' governments. Apparently, there have been problems with classified information and databases for a few weeks prior to the attacks, not with S.H.I.E.L.D. ones directly, but FBI, CIA and a few other agencies that would rather keep their actions secret were attacked.
It must have been planned for years, Tony realizes.
'What do we do now? Did you get him, the leader?' Tony asks, his face impassive, even though he is dying to know the answer.
'Yes, Stark, we've got him –' Fury starts, but Natasha cuts in.
'It's not him. The man who took you. We've seen him once, but he – he got away. We are searching for him now. He seems to be one from the upper echelon, no?'
'He is something like a head of science division,' Tony tells them tonelessly. 'He's a scientist, and inventor. You already know he created the device that put the armor down, and I still don't know what it is. Tragic life story, revenge and need to prove himself, he is a walking classic, only tad more insane, I give you that…'
'We need to debrief you in detail about your captivity, anyway, Stark. Sometime soon.'
Tony blinks quickly, trying to calm down his suddenly too fast-beating heart. They don't know, he tells himself. He takes a breath and show Fury a big shit-eating grin.
'There is nothing to talk about, honestly,' he offers, knowing that all the Avengers are staring at him now with varying states of worry and disbelief on their faces. 'No, really. I was captured, woke up in that room. Toma – the guy – he didn't do anything. I got beat up a few times when I tried to punch the hell out of him; there were two goons who came in and take care of me. Other than that? He brought me food, you saw I even had an en suite. The biggest thing was that he saw a rival in me therefore I was not allowed to do anything. You saw the room,' Tony says, looking at Steve who nods. 'I didn't have radio, tv, paper, books – well, I had one book for half a day – nothing. I couldn't even talk to myself 'cause cameras and microphones. And doing nothing is just as much of a torture as the physical one, when you have brain like mine, that doesn't know when to shut off.'
'And we found you in such state because?...' Bruce prompts, frowning; Tony can tell that they believe in his story because well, it is the truth, it's completely genuine. It's just not the whole truth.
'Have you started tailing him?' Tony asks in reply, looking at Fury.
'We got more and more signals and managed to trace some and therefore get a vague idea of where in the fucking Nicaragua you were kept –'
'And he knew that. He got that and started moving. Left me in the house alone, apparently he didn't think you would find me and his point was not really using me, just getting me out of the big picture. I've been in the room without food or anything for over five days. And before that, well, we've been arguing and I refused to eat sometimes, doesn't really matter now, but if you're wondering why I appeared so starved, that's it.'
'So – he captured you to keep you,' Steve repeats slowly. 'He didn't torture you, ask you about your tech, the arc reactor?'
'Well, he thought he was clever enough to figure everything out by himself. Apparently, he managed to make a big mess, so he wasn't that far from the truth.'
'We're looking for him,' Clint speaks up for the first time, his voice full of grim determination. 'As soon as we know something, teams will be dispatched.'
'Whatever,' Tony murmurs. He doesn't let himself care and doesn't let himself think too much, either, because it means his thought inevitably swimming to the fucking aching emptiness in his gut, in his bones, in his head.
'We will find him,' Clint repeats before they move to another subject.
Tony, with JARVIS help, is asked to work with some IT guys from S.H.I.E.L.D. to create a data protection system that would be way better than the previous ones and he agrees. At least it will be something – useful, and he can focus on one thing instead of trying to somehow make jumping between a dozen work.
It doesn't work.
Tony can't get how it can not work, but it doesn't. He just isn't able to distract himself with friends, with work, with duties, and he really tries. He gets up at normal hour and drags himself out of the bed even if he is feeling too fucking low to even think about what they day is going to bring – that shouldn't be so surprising. Telling himself you've been on the drug for three months only, pull yourself together doesn't help. It's been round doses, then it's been crack and that's the worst shit ever, Tony knows too well.
But he goes on.
He gets out of the bed and ignores his body screaming, goes to the kitchen and eats three times as much as he would normally, until his stomach hurts, because it feels a bit like it's going to make the craving go away.
Then out of the penthouse, he meets the IT guys in one of the R&D levels, now shut off for SI employees, open only to secret agents. They discuss things and write codes and Tony create a minor not self-conscious AI to control the system the five men are working on. JARVIS is a lot of help and the work is going well, but Tony's thoughts wander off the topic all the time. Literally. Trying to keep focused on one thing, with so any stimuli around, is a fucking torture, almost more than –
– okay. No exaggerations.
By the lunchtime Tony is hungry again and it's ridiculous, but he stuffs himself again and it doesn't help again; he is not disguised with himself only because he knows it's a normal physical reaction and his body will calm down soon, stabilizing its needs.
Afternoon is doing his share of work for SI and trying to go through the catalogue of one word or one sentence projects that he's managed to write down, cataloguing the things he's managed to come up with and analyze while in captivity. Most of them totally don't make sense when he is sober.
Dinner is a team thing and everyone praises Tony for putting mind to gaining the weight he's lost; that's like thirty pounds to gain, in muscle mass and fat. Tony smiles and steals the conversation spotlight all the time, feeling somehow self-assured with his friends around; it always ends with a headache.
After the meal, Tony goes to the workshop and lets Avengers think he is working some more, being his usual self, while in reality he just goes to sleep. He is tired and apathetic and no, he doesn't even want to fight those feelings. It will all pass in a few weeks. It's normal. It's a phase.
He keeps telling himself that.
Just one time, it's just four of five days after the team came back, Tony just loses it.
In private, in a calm safe space and no one ever learns about that, but he knows. He is aware of what he has been turned into.
It begins like this: Tony knows very well that he should be working on the A.I. code; normally he would have it done in fifty hours of being closed in the workshop with at least twenty cups of coffee and energy bars. It's urgent and everyone expects him to do just that, to focus completely on his work like he always does, and given the importance, Tony is sure even Steve would not be as angry at him for locking everyone out of the 'shop as normally. Rational reason, they would all just say okay, you do that Tony, just get this one thing done.
And he can't do it like that. He is trying to, of course, but he can't even manage eight hours of work a day on the project. JARVIS helps, but – it's not enough. JARVIS can't control what is in Tony's head and that's what he would need.
Seeing a shrink is out of question – at least for now, Tony fools himself. No time.
So it's five days and Fury calls, telling him to hurry a bit. Tony lies to him and says that the A.I. isn't as easy as everyone seems to think, which is a lie but no one is completely aware as Tony writes his JARVIS-based codes differently from other people and only he is aware of how it's done. Fury asks if he can be done by the end of the week – that's in three days – and Tony says yes.
But he can't.
He tries, though, he really does, but somehow, his thoughts are either too fast to follow or to slow – mote often too slow – and the work just doesn't go well. Tony tries breathing deeply, calming himself down, calming his distracted mind, focusing his attention because he knows all this is ridiculous. He cannot let Toma win like this; the man didn't really win when Tony was in his prison, and he cannot be allowed to win now, when Tony is – free.
You were never free, a voice whispers in his head, repeating the words that Toma liked to murmur when he cleaned Tony's arm before a shot. Tony laughed at the man. He thought that after twenty years he would be able to control himself. Apparently, he is too weak and to pathetic to actually do.
It's something he's never experienced before, the inability to work normally, and it's terrifying.
One afternoon, Tony tries to distract himself with some physical labor, working on his cars and a few prototypes for SI but he can't and he ends up throwing the tools all across the room, breaking something in the meantime but he can't bother to look up to see what, the anger and the disappointment are burning and it hurts, the restlessness hurts, the exhaustion takes over his limbs and the constant noise makes him even more distressed, makes his head hurt so much and Tony's not even sure it's physical.
He gets up from the floor where he was trying to fix a robot prototype, probably only making it worse, and takes whatever he can find on the workbench and tosses it with all force he can muster, enjoying the sound of it hitting something, of glass pieces falling on the floor with a musical tingling. He is vaguely aware that Dummy, who sees that, scatters away and hides in his charging dock, together with other robots, and he feels guilty, but that's just an underlying feeling under the loathing.
'I can't fucking do this,' Tony whispers to himself, breaking yet something else in the rampage. 'I just can't, I can't, I can't,' he chants, feeling very much like punching someone, something, banging his head on the wall, anything that would make the feelings go away.
JARVIS tries to get his attention, but Tony just recites the override that mutes the A.I. and prevents him from telling anyone what is happening.
It takes him maybe ten minutes before deciding that really he can't go on like this.
Sure, the symptoms are going to pass, but with the amount of drugs he has in his system, Tony knows it's going to take weeks before he is – stable again, and months before he stops craving. Especially that he's always had addictive personality and he's always been bipolar – not diagnosed but certainly behaving like bipolar.
And there is no time. He has vowed to make the world a better place, to change things, back when he was a kid and then after Afghanistan, and… he can still change the world. Even if.
So the decision made, he instantly feels calmer and more stable.
First, clean your hands and face and look presentable. Second, put on appropriate clothes. Third, a bit of disguise. Fourth –
'Make the bots clean up this mess, J,' Tony says as he's leaving the workshop, careful not to step on glass, his heart beating in a steady calm rhythm. It should be scary how it works, his psyche, but Tony can't afford to be scared now.
Even after being out of business for twenty years, he knows very well how to find his way to drugs, and it's only an hour before he's back in the tower with a small bag in his pocket.
'JARVIS, black this room out, no cameras, no audio, no sensors. Leave it just to me, I need some time to myself only. Lockdown active until I say otherwise, but you know that.'
'Yes, sir,' JARVIS agrees tentatively and does as he is told.
Tony's hands automatically follow the sequence of movements he's done countless times before, without a second of hesitation, without any trembling or fear of the voice of consciousness. There will be time for that later. He doesn't let himself feel guilty. And it's just a small amount for a few days, to finish the projects.
The scary thing should be that Tony believes in his own lies, but he can't care when the drug kicks in; instead her stifles a giggle. His mind clears in the matter of seconds. The white noise in the background seems even more pronounced, though, but it takes Tony only a few moments to figure out the best solution.
He peels his clothes off, all of them, and when he's naked, he walks across the room to the bathroom, steps into the shower and lets the water flow. It surrounds him, with the slightly warm sensation on his skin, a steady soft touch, calming pressure, and the familiar noise that finally makes his feel completely safe.
The first dose – a small one – he lets himself sit in the shower and just enjoy. The crash is as soft and nice as after the first time with Toma. The hunger is gone, the aches, the lethargy, and Tony finally feels like himself.
The second dose, he moves to the study attached to his personal rooms and sits in front of the computers to write down the code.
With her help, it's done during one night. Tony doesn't sleep even a minute and in the morning, he goes for a run, fresh air helping him ease the remains of a headache. He doesn't let himself think about reasons. It's good. He is okay.
But he doesn't stop.
1988
'You are crossing a line here,' Rhodey tells him when he is out for his first leave. Two days, and he decided to spend one of them with Tony. Tony doesn't tell him how grateful but surprised he is, that instead of being with his family, Rhodey would choose to be with him.
'I need to do this in a year –'
'You don't fucking need to get your PhD in a year, Tony. No one does that.'
'Exactly –'
'You are a moron. Look at yourself! You've lost even more weight, you're eating painkillers as if they were candy, you don't even understand yourself half of the time when you are high. You are better than this, Tony. You don't need this,' Rhodey says, making Tony smile grimly.
It's cute that the man has such faith in him. But really, he knows that no one who is not looking for the symptoms knows, he's been careful with that. He's the best student and he is going to finish his PhD in a year and everyone knows this; he is his usual charming, elegant, overbearing self and everyone just nods at that.
'I wish I could stay with here to have an eye on you,' Rhodey adds. 'I hate myself for leaving you here to your fucking stupidity.'
'I'm fine, Rhodey,' Tony replies sweetly; he's tired and probably needs some sleep finally, after three days up, finishing part of a project according to his self-imposed schedule.
'You are not fine,' Rhodey insists, but then lets it go.
He rummages all of Tony's hidden places and throws out all the coke Tony's had stashed, probably worth a few grand, not that it matters. Tony appreciates the concern, even though they both know it's pointless.
'Just don't die before I see you next time,' Rhodey tells him when he leaves. Tony laughs.
2013
It takes the team three months to notice something.
Tony has perfected hiding when he was a teenager and it turns out this, just like muscle memory of making a line or self-injecting, is something that stays with you. Honestly, it's not even difficult. Maybe it would be, if anyone suspected anything, but they don't, they don't have any reasons to and Tony isn't giving them any. He is the usual ADD-like, arrogant self, the Tony Stark they know, and spends most of the time in workshop. He never misses a day, always is where he is needed. He makes a point of eating, too, even if he's nowhere near hungry; he must have put on like five pounds the first week, and has been getting a steady one up a week to satisfy Bruce's and Pepper's motherhenning.
It's enough.
After finishing the A.I.-controlled firewalls with S.H.I.E.L.D., Tony can finally get to all the one-line projects that are waiting for him on the database and some other things for SI that he was supposed to be doing when he was… away. Everything is going splendidly, of course it is. It's easy to focus and work for hours without a break, sleeping three, four hours a day maybe. The projects are being done one by one, Tony's mind on high speed, letting him do two, three things at once. He gets used to the lights and the noises, to the information being thrown at him all at once; his body and mind finally seem able to deal with it.
It's a complete opposite of the prison. He is – he is making use of it. It is for a reason.
But Tony doesn't need to justify himself.
JARVIS is blacked out in his apartment, on standby mode that gets him activated is his full name is said by Tony only, so that Tony has all the privacy he needs, and no judgment. The A.I. can tell something unusual is going on anyway, since Tony's heartbeat if faster and his blood pressure elevated, but Tony forbids him speaking to anyone about his health concerns. JARVIS has to obey.
There are still hours when Tony ends up spending under the shower, in darkness, listening to the noise of the water encompassing him; it makes him feel safe and stops all the eyes from staring at him and it's good. He doesn't let himself dwell on how crazy it is, relying with his life on hiding in a bathroom, on pure physical sensations that he should hate but he doesn't. As soon as Tony is out of the room, free of the noise and the soothing scenery, he pushes it away. No thinking of what happens there and why it happens outside of the bathroom, that's a good rule. What happens in Vegas only stays in Vegas.
But then it happens.
The reason is one and easy: S.H.I.E.L.D. captures Toma, after almost four fucking months of searching, all agencies and WSC-controlled units looking for him. The man really is too clever for his own good.
Fury calls Natasha who comes to Tony immediately; they Avengers are living a few floors below Tony himself.
'We've captured the man,' she states after Tony's allowed her to enter the workshop, taking a minute or two to make it look presentable enough and make sure he himself looks ok.
'I want to see him,' Tony shots back firmly. That's now true, though, he doesn't want to see Toma at all. But he has to.
'As soon as he's in the USA, we'll let you know. They found him in North Africa, flying here at the moment,' Natasha informs him and leaves, already taking out her cell to call Fury or whoever.
'Not too far away from home,' Tony murmurs to himself, ordering JARVIS to save everything he's been working on and decides to go to his room and get some sleep and clean up a bit, if he's going to go out to people. He has to look presentable – no, impeccable.
Before he gets to his room though, Natasha catches him again, her face guarded.
'Well, you can't meet him,' she states and Tony knows everything already, but lets her continue. 'He had an ampule of poison. Bit it. Died before anyone could even move.'
'Of course he did,' he replies and continues to his room, but instead of the bed, he goes to the bathroom, gives himself a nice pretty shot in the arm – for the first time since, he's just been having fun with the powdered coke so far, works longer – and lets the water fall on him and lets himself wail.
It shouldn't matter but it does.
He doesn't really know himself what he would have expected of the meeting, answers for his questions? Toma admitting to what he did – did he really do something? Revenge? Seeing the man humiliated and in pain and hating himself to at least half of the extent that he made Tony hate himself?
Maybe he's like justice, not only for what was done to Tony, but for what was done to other people because of Toma. There isn't a good answer – there isn't a real answer. It's all just a mess in his head, a fucking mess. Death is not justice. Such a quick, painless death is not a justice.
But if the man didn't kill himself, he would probably ask S.H.I.E.L.D. how Tony was coping and it would be result in a mess. So maybe it's better this way.
Tony thinks that for about three hours before he can't stand the crash and gets another shot and knows he is fucking everything up but he can't stop himself.
They leave him alone for a few hours, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the teammates, which is normal and understandable. They know he is a private person, no matter what the media might think, and that he prefers to think about everything on his own, undisturbed. That is true, that is so true. Tony is glad they respect it although at the same time he is aware that he really shouldn't.
Then there is another shot and another, all perfectly measured so that he won't kill himself – come on, he knows him limits, he knows limits of a human body very well – but it's enough to induce a pretty cocaine psychosis.
Of course there is nothing surprising in that, too. It has all happened before.
It's just that he can't control himself at this point and there are things around him that don't exist and it's scary and amusing at the same time and he doesn't know what to do other than to go with the visions.
He doesn't remember that much of what happens next, but he knows he goes down, at least he is dressed, and he is acting out of his mind which is a pretty accurate description and the Avengers don't have an idea what is happening and what to do because hey, he's never been acting this insane before and that's saying something. Tony think it's mildly amusing that it takes them a few minutes to put two and two together because they all know – the whole world knows – about his past, about his love-love relationship with her.
It's all kind of obvious since he's been clever enough to actually put the needle to his arm instead of just smoking. Or snorting. It would be less conspicuous.
'You're fucking high, Tony,' Clint states the obvious and Tony giggles and runs away, locking himself down in the workshop because it's a safe space and whatever might be around him, chasing him or whatever, it's not going to harm him in the workshop.
'Toma's never been this much fun,' he murmurs to himself, laying down on the workshop floor and ordering JARVIS to make a holo-sky above.
He knows they are probably dying to get into the workshop, but hey, he's been clever enough to make a code that doesn't have an override. Even Pepper doesn't have a secret password.
JARVIS tells them the truth, that he is not going to die, and they let him be – for some time. Tony knows it's for some time, but he honestly can't care about five minutes in the future.
The crash, of course, is epic. Or maybe that's not the best word because it means it's something good. It isn't. It's just so, so immense.
Tony hasn't experienced anything like that for over twenty years, and it was never one of the things he's missed.
He stays in the workshop for a day because he can't imagine facing them. JARVIS tells the Avengers that he is okay and they come and try to get in all the time, but the workshop is too well-guarded for that. Thor-proof and Hulk-proof, thank you very much, he's never make it possible for those two to come and destroy his toys accidentally. Tony orders JARVIS to make the reinforced glass wall transparent and they can see that he is in fact alive and functioning.
They want to talk. Clint actually writes it on the glass with a sharpie, in a perfectly even handwriting, as if he used mirror-letters every single day: Stop this fucking farce and talk. You're not getting out of this.
Tony likes to think that he would, because he could just throw them all out – make JARVIS throw them all out of the building. But he isn't that mad.
So he goes out because he is hungry. That's simple. He's gone through everything that he's had in the workshop on the first two weeks of being back in NY and never bothered to replenish the supplies, other than water and bourbon. So, he is starving and he doesn't have the patience to wait or to ignore the feeling.
See, it's all primal instincts. He is a fucking animal.
'Tony, just – do you want to –' Pepper starts, completely at loos of words and wow, that doesn't happen often. Tony snickers.
'Do I have to explain myself to you?' he asks between bites of his sandwich. Within five minutes everyone was sitting around him in the kitchen, as if no one had better things to do than wait to assault him.
'Try not to,' Natasha replies, the undertone sweet and deadly. Tony considers.
'Okay,' he says in the end, flashing her a smile.
'Tony, I just don't know if we understood it correctly –' Bruce starts, concern obvious in his voice. Cap just stares with questioning and sad look in his eyes.
'Was there something to misunderstand?' Tony cuts in. He is not going to explain himself to everyone, he's not going to tell him them everything, it's buried, it's fucking unspeakable – he's not.
'Tony,' Pepper states with a heavy sighs, observing him closely. She looks as if she didn't sleep for a few days and Tony feels a pang of guilt. 'Just – why?...'
Tony takes a few moments to answer since he's just taken a huge bite of his sandwich. It's rather anti-climactic, having all the eyes trained on him, even though he should be used to that by now. He can't bring himself to meet their gazes though.
How do you tell your friends that you've been brought down and made a prisoner of your own instincts? That you've been too weak to resists, too weak to say no, too weak to maintain your dignity? That between the comfort and beauty and luxury of a perfect holiday resort you've been dehumanized? Because that's it, right? Tony knows that with the two weeks of withdrawal he should have made it. He should have stopped. He should have been okay, because the worst part was behind him and he was free and it was okay – only that it wasn't.
He should have asked someone for help, but that's something he has never been able to do.
'I needed to,' he replies finally. It's quiet and subdued, but it's honest. Speak the partial truth and everyone is going to believe you.
'But you've been clean for so long and now, you just – you just what?' Clint asks, leaning across the table and staring at him. Tony looks away, of course he does, but he smirks.
'I just did,' he says. It's better than telling the truth. Everything is better than the truth, even if it means they will despise him now.
How do you tell your friends that you are this wild, unpredictable, tragic and self-destructive guy that they thought you've grown out of being, and you let yourself be? That you let yourself and everyone down?
'After all this time,' Steve half-states, half-asks. The way he is frowning is really kind of painful to watch, since his face is so genuine and confused and hurt. But – it doesn't matter.
Tony knows perfectly that after a certain time of being clean, not to mention decades of being clean, you should have been able to make a decision not to. And letting them think it was his decision is inevitable, and yes, he would loathe himself for that, too. He does anyway, doesn't he?
'How long has it been going on?'
Natasha's turn. Cold voice.
Just wait until Thor asks, if he gets what it is about. Tony isn't sure Asgardians get addicted to things at all.
'Two months,' Tony lies. Giving himself a time frame of a month and a half between coming back and starting the drugs seems okay. Like, not that likely to get psychoanalyzed straight away. 'Are we done?'
'We aren't done, Tony,' Pepper says. She is so fucking disappointed that Tony wants to disappear. 'You – you need to stop. Okay? You need to stop.'
'Of course I do,' he brushes her off and finishes the sandwich.
It's kind of humiliating, the whole scene, but he's had worse. And – he can understand them.
'Are you going to start – rehab? A treatment? Meeting someone, to help you?...' Bruce asks softly, massaging his head is if it hurt.
Tony raises an eyebrow. He isn't – not yet. Not yet. He will, just not right now, and he tells them just that. Apparently, it's not satisfying.
'Do you honestly expect us to just – let you do this? When we are here and we know what's going on?'
'Do you think you can stop me?' Tony counters and it's bad, because he is starting to get angry at them. For the attitude. For the lack of – but well, does he have the right to expect anything at all? What, compassion? Understanding? 'No, you can't. I haven't done any offense. I haven't done anything wrong. I'm – I'm okay. I'm in control and it's not a fucking lie even though you will not understand. Unless you try, and you don't want to try –'
'There is nothing to understand, Tony,' Pepper says tiredly, but there is no touching. No hugging, no physical contact. Tony know, he really does, that they are just as uncomfortable as he is, but it still hurts a tiniest bit.
'We'll ask a psychiatrist from S.H.I.E.L.D. –'
'No.'
'Then you find one on our own –'
'No!' Tony exclaims, getting up from behind the table. 'I will, but I need time, can you fucking give me some time? I won't see anyone now and I won't go into treatment in this very second beca–'
'What are you waiting for? It's only going to get worse!' Clint counters, raising his voice to match Tony's. Perfect. That was the only missing element of the crazy puzzle, arguments. Like in a family, exactly what Tony remembers.
'I will. Just – let me make the decision, okay?' Tony replies, making his voice deliberately quiet and soft. Calm yourself down. Prove them you are in control.
'You are not thinking rationally,' Natasha quips in and Tony grits his teeth. Yeah, sure, trust the residential makeshift psychologist to know everything. 'We can't afford to wait and let you make a decision, you could be a liability in the meantime, if we get called.'
Oh, the magical word. The magical fucking word.
Tony isn't sure he can handle much more of this, with his body being on the depressive comedown and his mind slowing down and tired, and with the impossible-to-ignore need to just go away and hide in a calm soundless place, in a semi-dark familiar corner where he can calm down and there is no one.
'No, I am an adult, Natasha. I know what kind of a fucked up situation I made this myself, thank you, and believe me, I am sorry,' Tony states truthfully, and the sentence makes his gut ache because there aren't words to express how sorry he really is. 'But I did this and as much as I appreciate your help, I have to do this in my own time and it's not negotiable because otherwise it won't work. Capisci?'
'No –'
'Nothing is going to happen. Nothing. You've got to trust me on that. I've been functioning with his for some time now and you haven't even noticed. I can take my time to –'
'No, Tony –' Bruce starts again and hell, Tony really thought they would be smarter than this –
'Clearly you can't be treated like an adult,' Clint states at the same time and Steve murmurs something that Tony doesn't hear and suddenly they are all talking at once, no one even minding him anymore, discussing between themselves what Tony has to do right now and fuck, he knows he's made a mistake but it wouldn't have worked otherwise, he had to 'cause it was incredible responsibility for the whole country and more and – they don't want to listen.
'I'm done with this shit,' he states, suddenly losing patience, moving from inside the circle of people towards the door. They suddenly go quirt. He's – he's just made a decision, right now, okay? Probably a bad one, but he will do it. Whatever it takes. 'I know that you care, okay, in your own way, but you don't get it and I'm not going to deal with his, I've been functioning for months and years before and nothing happened and I'm not going to just be what you want me to be now, a fucking saint. I'm not going to just stop now because you want me to, it's like the fundamental mistake I've made and I'm not going to make it again. Will you leave me alone and give me time?'
It's enough to look at their faces to knows the answer. It hurts, but – but it's logical they don't understand. It's better that they don't.
'I'm going to Malibu,' he states, standing in the doorway.
'So you are just going to run away from the problem?' Pepper asks, looking at him intently, but Tony ignores it because it hurts. But it's better that they consider him disgusting rather than weak. Disguising is still human, even if Tony doesn't feel like that so much.
'No, 'cause I can't fucking run away from myself,' he snaps and disappears.
No one goes after him.
Before he leaves, he spends half of the night sitting in the totally dark bathroom without her, enjoying the sensory deprivation, feeling the soft water falling onto his head and back and arms, sliding down his torso and face, ever-moving and never-changing and perfect.
Tony's known early on that the only thing he would lose from living a life of chemical dependency would be said life. At least if he pretends to choose to do drugs, he's controlling his own negative outcome. There is – at least a creepy sort of investment in that.
He doesn't need to pack a lot of things, there is a second set of just about everything in Malibu, save his robots and suits. JARVIS sends a notice to get his StarkJet prepared and calls people to take care of transporting the bots to the airport and then into the plane, and the only things that Tony needs to take from the tower is some of his favorite pieces of clothing and a few personal items.
Easy.
He speaks out of the building as if he were a thief, just after four in the morning, knowing that it's even before Steve's usual morning run. They are going to make it, him and her, and then he will pull himself together.
He just needs to find a reason.
Because right now it's all fear and anger and nothing else. Tony knows you can wake up in the morning, and say: this is chaos, and I'm not to cause any more serious damage to my health, or just continue to do so. But if you do choose to recover, then you have to replace that fear with some sort of faith and they don't get it and whatever he has now is apparently not enough, so he's going to look for the right answer.
A/N: Thanks a lot to everyone who left a review or favorited or followed ;) Please let me know what you think, do you like where the story is going? This is definitely hard to write so I will love you forever for feedback!
