When I first wrote the original of this story, there was a one-shpt that I'd come across that described the relationship between Tony and Phil exceedingly well. This still stands, and so I will always be grateful to and give credit to obsessivereader95 for letting me intersperse her story with my own. My original endorsement was way more enthusiastic, so here it is:
"Thank you SO MUCH obsessivereader95 for letting me use your story How to Save A Life! It helped me get my point across BRILLIANTLY! For those of you reading, go look up that story and read it in its entirety. I'm not even kidding. Go now. This is the backbone for why Phil and Tony are such good friends and why Loki was so concerned in the beginning. The friendship will make appearances throughout the story so keep watch for that. Other than that, I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Flashback (How to Save A Life by obessivereader95) My inserts. Story."
Tony jumped off the copter and onto the Helicarrier flanked by Coulson (who is in turn flanked by Clint) on his right and Loki and Natasha to his left. For some odd reason that not even the best of SHIELD can fathom, his eyes have changed from brown to red and his expression is like ice. Fury takes one look at him and knows that he is no longer doing business with Tony Stark.
"Agents," He motioned them over to the gathering horde of people who are all fixated on one thing or another; mostly papers, spreadsheets that no doubt contain information for their mission, which is still unknown to the Hawk and the Spider. It scares them, Tony realizes. Not knowing what they've been signed up for, but they'll deal with it as he's had to learn how, or they'll be of no use. That's not what SHIELD molded them to be. They will adapt.
"Welcome back, Agent Stark."
"Who would have thought that I'd miss this stupid place?" Tony asked in conversation. Fury rolled his eyes.
"Once you're a SHIELD agent you never really give that up." The one-eyed menace offered.
"True," Loki mused, having taken up for the silently fuming Tony. He did not want to be here. This so-called agency held memories. The kind that were supposed to be locked away in the deepest corners of that little black Pandora's box that was hidden in the darkest recesses of his mind, not to be dragged up again by the likes of the bastards they were currently after!
"It's for a cause," He muttered more to himself than to the others around him.
"A noble one indeed." Loki murmured his consent.
They are introduced to their respective groups and the teams go over the final plans for attack.
The Invasion has begun.
Darkness was beginning to engulf the edges of Tony's vision, grey spots popping in and out of view. The burning pain of the palladium coursing through his veins and arteries was creeping along his neck, forcing his posture into ramrod straightness uncommon in a sick person's usual manner.
He tried not to let it get to him again, those particular memories from that particular time (when he thought he was going to die.) Tony Stark did not take Death very well. Lucky him he wasn't Tony Stark; Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist. He was Tony's other half, if you would. He was what few had seen and he took Death just fine, thank you very much.
SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson watched the genius work with morbid curiosity. This was a man in the throes of death, barely clinging to life through the low-dosages of anti-palladium. As the agent swiftly took in his charge's stiffness, he sighed. Tony Stark seemed reluctant to ask anyone else for help. Coulson was sure that, had he not been coerced by a SHIELD agent with a tazer to save his own life, he would have already given up. It seemed the sarcastic man had already lost hope of ever regaining his health.
Weak! He was weakened by that stupid human poison and it addled his brain! Why had he not fought back, done something?! He shouldn't have had to rely on the (undead) agent from SHIELD to revive him only for him to work himself (to an unseemly) death once again!
Stark's posture suddenly slumped. Coulson leapt into action, syringe (filled to the brim with the mysterious substance that gave temporary relief) poised and ready in his hand. Stark's body was starting another seizure in reaction to the foreign palladium. Coulson winced at the sight of the darkening, visible veins running up his neck and into his hairline. He administered the shot quickly and efficiently, and then backed away before the genius could wake up again.
When he'd found out what the agent had done he'd raged at the man for hours, blue eyes blazing. "I am Anthony Edward Stark!" He'd snarled. "You do not go anywhere near me! You definitely do not stick me with… whatever the hell that shit was! I just… no! Get out of my sight!"
Later, when a furious director questioned him about allowing Stark to leave, his only response was, "He needed it."
He was reassigned immediately. Stark seemed mildly disappointed.
These "episodes," as Tony called them, were becoming more frequent and more dangerous. Tony was starting to forget things that mattered. He would often wake to find himself in the agent's arms, being towed to a small but luxurious cot in the corner. If it got to be that bad, Coulson usually had to sit next to him and remind him what he was doing, why he was doing it, and for whom he needed to do it. Reading up on the reports, the SHIELD agent had thought that Stark would want to live for himself or to spite someone. As hours wore on, he found out that the billionaire needed to be reminded of Pepper, Rhodey, and the heartbreak that he would leave in his wake if he were to disappear off the face of the Earth again.
It was sad, really, Phil would reflect during the ride to their drop point. What he'd had to do to get the man to live. He hadn't needed to do that for anyone, not even Barton or Romanoff. Sure he talked them down but they hadn't needed such… prodding? Reason? He didn't know what to call it. It was just another secret. One that he would take to his own grave.
As a field agent, he did not (could not) let himself become attached to the man, but as Phil Coulson he felt an unnecessary amount of hope that the dying genius would pull through. Tony Stark, the billionaire and world-class playboy, began to slip away, leaving a modern-day genius struggling to cling to life for the sake of two people who thought he was just being more irresponsible than usual and a world that thought he only cared about his ego and alcohol.
He didn't, by the way. Life was far more than that would ever mean. EVER. Anyone who dared to say otherwise could go jump off a cliff. He had more to worry about than the ridiculous opinions of others. They could burn for all he cared.
Half an hour later, he plunged it into the shaking and prone figure in the chair facing the projector screen. The tremors stopped instantly, and Tony slumped into the cushions. Coulson backed away into his corner, nervously flicking the side of the needle before capping it. Stark sat up slowly, looking around in a slightly disoriented fashion. Tony's eyes fixed on the screen and then looked down at something in his fingers. Coulson walked discreetly up the stairs and sat on a couch in one of the upstairs living rooms. When Tony made his way up another half hour later, the SHIELD agent tried his best to feign sleep.
(Of course, the genius saw through it and shrugged it off. He didn't need the man but he was glad someone still cared. Even if it had been forced. So he whispered a soft "thanks" before taking his leave.)
Fury hadn't given up yet, and if Fury believed in him, everyone but the council would follow to Stark's last, dying breath.
Tony jerked out of the memory, one of Coulson saving his life (over and over and over again… like Loki often had when they weren't so terrible.)
"Get ready to unload," The pilot offered. "The drop zone is a few minutes out."
He thought he'd repaid his debt to Coulson when Captain America was found in the ice (but then again, that didn't count.) So why was the agent still around? He hadn't done his job and left like he was supposed to. Had probably disobeyed orders to stay friends. Tony couldn't wrap his head around why, and at the moment, didn't want to. He had lives to save.
