Tony folded his arms across his chest, sighed, and flopped back into the soft refuge of the crumpled sheets. Exhaling loudly, he stared at the sepia ceiling, the same one that he had been staring at for nearly a week now. He had very gently sent the bewildered Pepper on her way. He forced himself to ignore the pained wince she gave him, as she graced his temple with a kiss. She finally left him to his much needed solitude only after his false reassurances he would be alright.
Her perfume still lingered, a faint, floral scent that cloyed at the air like an unwanted ghost.
Hell, he didn't deserve this damn head wound, and he didn't deserve her.
Tony growled in frustration, rolled over on his stomach, and punched the pillows, hard.
This was so stupid. The last time he had spent this much time in a bed was when he was nursing a hangover from hell, and the headache felt as if somebody was driving a spike through his temples.
He knew that he would have to eventually emerge from his room, to take Bruce's damn cognitive assessments, to learn how to live half a life with the scrambled scraps of his once formidable intellect.
Was he a vegetable, now? Would it get worse? Would he regain anything?
Tony sighed. Those questions could only be answered by Bruce's battery of tests. It wasn't a matter of Tony learning the outcome, it was his fear that it was hellish as it seemed now.
Two steps away from being a drooling vegetable. How could things get any worse than this?
Musing, Tony recalled an idle night, a few years ago, where he was perched on his couch, nursing a stiff drink, and flicking through the depraved offerings of late night television.
On that night, he had chanced to stumble on a historical documentary of treatment for the mentally ill.
He stared at the wan glow of the screen, somewhat transfixed, and sickened by the grainy images of a poor nut job being strapped down to a gurney. Some bastard, wearing a white coat, neatly tapped the ice pick through the poor patient's skull, carefully sliding the instrument through the eyelid, and then yanked it out with a flourish.
Tony still winced at that.
He shut his eyes, slammed his head back into the warmth of the pillow, and savagely yanked the blanket over his shoulder.
Twisting in the sheets like an animal in a snare, Tony finally kicked the blanket away with a snarl. The insomnia had settled into a dull ache behind his eyes, and he stared in resignation at the ceiling that held no answers.
What in the hell was he supposed to do now? Grousing irritably, he rolled over on his side, squinting in the wan light and longing for the guts to pick up the phone and con Pepper into coming over, if only to get him through.
His hand hovered above the indifferent metal of his phone, and then he let his hand flop back to the sheets. Pepper deserved a night of sleep after everything she had been through on his behalf.
He rolled over again with a resigned sigh. He wasn't going to sleep tonight.
His bitter thoughts were interrupted by the sudden hum of his cell phone, as it buzzed and clattered like an angry hornet on his side table.
Startled, Tony blearily rose to his elbows, groped for the phone, and squinted at the number across the screen.
"Stark." Bruce's voice was as sharp unexpected as it was abrupt. "You need to come to the lab. Now."
Tony scowled into the phone. "Banner. It's a bit late for a chat."
"This isn't a social call, Stark. Get down here. Now." Bruce answered acidly.
Tony sighed. "Fine, Banner. Better get out some wine and roses to make it worth my while, eh?" He hung up before Bruce could answer.
Irritated but grateful for the distraction from his thoughts, Tony kicked aside the blankets and rolled out of bed.
The lab itself had always been a sterile haven, serene and set with gleaming metal and the familiar hum and glow of machinery and possibility. Until a few days ago, entering a place like this would have felt like home. Now, Tony only scowled at his surroundings, when the thought curled in his brain that he may never have the smarts to work on any of it again.
He sighed, and shoved the thought aside, but not before wondering if he'd ever get past that sudden, vicious realization again.
Ignoring the myriad monitors, beeping, lights, and equipment, Tony idly turned around, wondering where Bruce was, and what was so damn urgent. The lab was housed in a huge, specially adapted room, with various corridors spiraling back through the metal doors that flanked him at all sides.
"Banner?" Tony called out. Normally, Banner would be hunched over one of his chemistry sets, or tinkering with a project of some sort, in the center of the control room, where all his equipment had been secured for such a purpose.
"Banner?" Tony called louder, scowling at the strange, empty silence. It wasn't as if Tony had just strolled down here for a casual chat, Banner had expected him.
So where the hell was Banner?
Uneasily, Tony palmed the metal door, debating if he should politely wait a few more seconds, and ignore the weird fear that made the bile rise to his throat.
"Banner!" Tony cupped his hands to his mouth, and bellowed loud enough for his shout to echo through the massive room.
Nothing. No noise, no answer, nothing.
What in the hell was going on? Worried now, Tony shoved his way through the metal doors, ignoring their flapping clang against the walls.
"Stark." Banner's voice was as sudden and sharp as a whiplash, rising up from the floor.
"Banner!" Tony barked out in surprise, and then outright fear. The first thing that Tony saw were Banner's well-worn leather shoes sprawled out in the corner. Tony sucked in a sudden breath when he saw Banner curled up in the corner, between the walls and trembling, hands white-knuckled and buried against his temples. Tony dropped to his knees. Banner looked like he was in agony.
"Banner, what the-"
"Get out!" Banner growled, a whispered hiss slithered out between his clamped jaws.
"No can do. Not when you're in this state." Tony kept his voice admirably level, as Banner choked and writhed like an animal in a snare.
Banner clawed the glasses from his face and sent them skittering across the room.
"Banner, what is going on? Do I need to call medical or-"
"Leave, damn it!" Banner snarled, as he tensed and exhaled through his clenched teeth. Tony saw the eerie emerald sheen in his dark eyes, the way that Banner hunched like a feral cat ready to spring.
Tony watched as Banner hunched over, clutching his arms against his rib cage, as his muscles rippled and ballooned underneath his shirt. The emerald shade engulfed Banner's flesh in one bright, sickening flood, as Banner staggered, nearly collapsing before he crashed into the wall.
Clawing at his temples, Banner roared as the last shreds of his humanity, bones, flesh, body, fell away like the tatters of his shirt.
"The Other Guy?" Tony breathed out in stupid shock, as Banner heaved out another snarl.