Chapter 19: Mortality Statistics

"Bucky?" Steve picked up the phone just after Peggy's return with the news about Rhodes. Tony couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but he listened intently to everything Steve said. "Yeah, I'm okay. In the common room with Nat, Clint, Tony, Parker, Quill, and Thor. Are you and Nick alright? Oh, thank goodness. I was worried sick about you. Gross, no I don't want to hear about that. No, Peggy disconnected me so the pole wouldn't immediately reveal our location. All I know is Dr. Rhodes took a shot to the back and Strange is operating on him now. Okay. Okay, bye."

"What's up with him?" Quill asked.

"He and Nick are fine, but they're pissed they have to continue the infusions that were interrupted by the lockdown. He also provided a vivid description of him resisting the urge to throw up which I will not be repeating aloud ever because it repeating in my head for the rest of eternity is bad enough."

Tony was relieved to hear about Nick and Bucky, but there was one other person whose safety he needed to assure himself of. He'd never done this before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything and this day certainly shattered all precedents. He called Bruce. He half-expected it to go to voicemail, but Bruce picked up on the second ring. Tony migrated back to the other side of the room to make the conversation somewhat private.

"Bruce?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Tony."

"I know that. I have your contact information in my phone, as a matter of fact." If there was one tone Tony hadn't expected to hear coming from Bruce at a time like this, it was sarcasm, yet that's exactly what he heard. "How are you? How is everyone?"

"Not shot, if that's what you're asking. I think the only victim is Dr. Rhodes, have you heard?"

"Yeah. I was in Dr. Wilson's office and he kept me up to date on everything that was going on. It happened right outside in the hallway where the head offices are."

"Whoa, then you were really close."

"I heard him cry out and hit the floor," Bruce admitted. "I don't think I'll ever forget that."

"I certainly wouldn't were I in your shoes. We heard…five gunshots from the common room if I remember correctly."

"Only one actually found its mark. This Toomes guy is not a master marksman."

"Toomes?"

"Yeah. Adrian Toomes is apparently the guy who broke in here."

"Do you know why?"

"No, I don't. Who's with you—is everyone okay…you know, mentally?"

"I'm with everyone but Nick and Bucky. They're in the chemo clinic and they're both fine. We're mostly good here. Thor had a seizure, but he's back up now. Clint and Nat are pretty shaken, but I think they're okay. Quill, Steve, and I are good."

"You haven't mentioned Parker."

Tony glanced back toward the circle. Happy and Parker seemingly hadn't moved an inch, but the kid's breathing wasn't audibly chaotic anymore. "He…I don't know, Bruce. Everything that happened…well it's definitely a trigger or something for him. He had a pretty bad panic attack, hasn't let go of Happy since the first shot fired."

"Oh man."

"Are you—" Tony didn't know how to phrase it without sounding insensitive. "Did you…keep it together okay, being so close to the action and everything?"

"Did I have a panic attack? Is that what you're asking?"

"Kind of."

"Surprisingly no. But my anxiety revolves more around social situations and my own potential failures, so my brain didn't find this particular incident worth panicking about."

"I guess that's good to hear."

"Where are you now?"

"Still in the common room. We know it's all clear now, but nobody really wants to leave each other's company. You?"

"I'm in my room. Wilson walked me back and then went to help."

"And you're good? You don't need company?"

"I'm good. Thanks, Tony."

"You're welcome. See you later."

"Bye."

Tony returned to the circle and informed everyone of Bruce's state. He noticed tangible relief in Happy's expression—getting all the kids through this mostly unscathed probably seemed impossible when the code silver was first announced. Next time he saw him alone, Tony would have to thank him for a job well done. It couldn't be easy to watch over so many people when under such duress, especially with one of them having a breakdown in his lap.

"Parker, it's alright," Happy soothed. He laid his hand over the one Parker had fisted in his shirt and rubbed his thumb in a circle. "Can you open your eyes for me?" Parker shook his head tensely. "Yes you can," Happy coaxed. "I want you to look at me, and then look at everyone else here and see that they're okay."

Tony gawked at Happy attempting to ease Parker back from the brink. He didn't know what to do, if he should say anything and back up Happy's reassurances, or remain silent and let Parker take the lead. The desire to help—to fix something—overwhelmed him, though he didn't know if his assistance would be welcome. For all he knew, he could make things infinitely worse by getting involved.

Happy pried Parker's fingers out of the tight fist and guided his open palm to rest over his heart. "Feel that? I want you to count the beats and on number twenty you're going to open your eyes, okay?" Parker hesitated, and for an instant Tony feared he'd gone completely catatonic, but then he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Good," Happy sighed. Tony watched Parker mouth the numbers and waited for his eyes to flick open on twenty. Much to Tony's relief, they did. Parker blinked heavily a few times before settling those big brown eyes on Tony. He attempted a reassuring smile, though he doubted it actually succeeded at calming the kid to any degree. Parker looked around, pausing to observe each person around him, before letting his gaze linger on Tony once again.

"That's it," Happy encouraged. "Parker, you think you're ready to let me go? I hate to break it to you, but both my feet are dead asleep."

"Tony," he said, still staring. It was the first word he'd said since this all began except for the panicked murmuring.

"What about him?" Happy asked. Tony took a step closer and sat down a few paces away from them. Parker crawled out of Happy's lap and scooted over, nestling himself into Tony's right side. Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and could feel the palpable tension. Only after a few seconds did Tony realize that all the other kids were gaping at them. Parker didn't cling desperately to him like he'd done to Happy, but listed most of his weight against Tony's side.

"Parker, does Tony make a good pillow?" Steve asked jokingly. Getting the kid to start communicating with simple one-word answers to questions was probably the best way to go about it. Tony felt Parker nod and saw Steve smile at the response. "Maybe I'll have to try it out one day."

"Absolutely not," Tony said. Although he had to admit that Parker seeking him out like this ignited a warm glow in his core.

"I can't believe we're going to have to start that level over. We were almost done when Tony died," Quill complained. In all the chaos, Tony had completely forgotten about the video game they'd been playing not long ago. It felt like ages ago, though it had only been hours.

"We have bigger concerns than a stupid video game," Steve chastised. "Dr. Rhodes could be paralyzed."

"There's also a chance he won't be," Quill pointed out.

"I admire your optimism, but it's folly to ignore the very real possibility that this could be a permanent, debilitating injury."

"Which is exactly why I'm trying not to think about it too much."

"Guys, stop fighting," Tony insisted. He could feel Parker tense up beside them at the hint of ire in Steve and Quill's voices. The last thing any of them needed right now was to start arguing over something stupid.

"Sorry," Steve apologized immediately. Quill took a few moments before doing the same. Tony sighed and almost missed the feeling of his phone buzzing. He opened it, hoping to see a response to the message he'd sent his father, but it was just some automated email from his high school that he hadn't bothered to unsubscribe from. Tony silently seethed, wondering why Howard couldn't deign to accept the apology or at least ask what it was for.

He considered sending another text to demand a response from the man, but he didn't want to engage with his father with Parker so close by. Parker, who told Tony about foster care, who listed parents and an aunt and uncle when he presented his poem about the responsibility to remember the dead, and who just had a panic attack at the sound of gunshots while muttering "Not again."

Shit.

The kid must have felt him tense up with the realization, because he looked up with a quizzical expression on his face. "You okay?" he asked meekly.

"Yeah," Tony replied—maybe too quickly. He redirected the subject as efficiently as he could by turning the question right back at Parker, "How about you?"

Parker shrugged.

"That's okay. I don't think any of us are going to be perfectly alright for a while after everything that just happened." Honestly, the realization about Parker hit Tony harder than the fact that his second home had just been attacked and his doctor stood at risk of losing the use of his legs.

"Was the seizure really loud?" Thor questioned suddenly. Tony could tell it had just occurred to him that he could've endangered them.

"No, no," Quill assured him. "It wasn't that bad. I doubt it could be heard outside the room."

"I'm surprised I didn't hit my head harder since you couldn't reach any pillows or blankets from back here." Thor rubbed at where he'd smacked against Quill's hand as if expecting a greater degree of pain. Fortunately, the spot on Tony's shirt where Thor had drooled was already dry, so he didn't immediately look at him and feel guilty.

"Tony offered to help," Steve said. Tony shot him a warning look, attempting to communicate that he shouldn't be sharing this information.

"How?" Thor questioned.

Well, there was no getting around it now. "Just let you borrow my shirt, that's all," he insisted. "It would've been way louder and more dangerous if your head smacked against the bare ground."

"Thank you," Thor said earnestly. "I'm sorry I put you—any of you—in that position."

"Thor, it's not your fault," Clint said. "You can't control it."

"I know. But it still sucks."

"Why are we still on floor?" Natasha asked.

"That's actually a really good question," Happy chimed in. "I know you don't want to disperse just yet, but there's no reason for us to still be hiding behind the sofa." The rest of the group migrated to the sofas and chairs in the common room. Tony moved his arm to stand up, but Parker latched onto him like he'd clung to Happy.

"Parker, I'm not going anywhere. I just need to stand up," Tony told him. The boy seemed hesitant, but he let go long enough for Tony to get his feet underneath him. He took Parker's hands and they stood up together. Parker's legs shook like a newborn deer's, but he managed to stay upright long enough for them to plop onto the couch side by side. He burrowed as closely into Tony's side as he could manage.

"As far as craziest things to happen in this hospital, where does this rank?" Tony asked the assembled group. Steve had been coming here the longest, and Happy and Peggy had worked here for ages. If anyone remembered incidents of comparable intensity, it would be one of them.

"This probably ranks number one on my list," Steve stated frankly.

"Any close seconds?" Quill inquired.

"The hacking of Carol's heart monitor is definitely up there. Parker, you remember that, don't you?" Bucky asked.

Parker merely nodded.

"They grounded us for two whole days after that," Bucky said.

"What exactly did you do to it?" Tony asked. He feared they might decide to run a similar experiment with his own monitoring equipment.

"I honestly don't know. It was Carol's own idea and she did all the work; Parker and I just watched. But we got punished too because we didn't stop her."

"You know you should have," Peggy reminded them.

"Yeah, but I knew trying to stop Carol would be a losing battle, so I didn't bother wasting my energy," Bucky countered.

"He's right. Carol was impossible to stop," Clint added. "But I think you're forgetting about an even crazier story."

"What's that?"

"Steve, remember what Scott did that one time?"

"Oh man, you're right! How could I forget about Scott?" Steve thought aloud. Tony glanced around, wondering if everyone else already knew the story of Clint and Steve's old friend from years ago. Nobody seemed confused by the name, so he figured they'd all been provided the same information he was.

"What happened?" Thor asked.

"Little Scott single-handedly conducted the worst string of serial pickpocketing I've ever encountered," Steve explained.

"Exactly how many strings of serial pickpocketing have you encountered, Steve?" Tony questioned.

"That's not important. This one was definitely the worst."

"Who exactly did he pickpocket?" Quill asked.

"Everyone," Clint said. "Any nurse or doctor that went near him lost their ID badge, or a pen…one time even a stethoscope."

"I nearly forgot about the stethoscope," Steve sighed. "To this day I still have no idea how he managed to snatch that right off her neck. I mean, where would he have hidden it?"

"That's what made it so crazy. I asked him to teach me, but he wouldn't."

"He probably did not want you to turn his skills against him," Natasha remarked.

"I know, but I promised him I'd never use it on him. He never stole anything from me."

"Did he get caught?" Quill asked, seemingly surprised he was the only one wondering about that.

"Yeah, they eventually realized he was the common denominator and he confessed," Steve clarified. "I don't know where he learned, but he was darn good at it. Got a kick out of it too. I think he only told the truth because he was running out of room to stash everything he'd collected."

Tony sighed, wondering how long after this incident Scott succumbed to his cancer. It both pained and enlivened him to hear stories about the others' friends that had since passed away. On the one hand, he despised the fact that their lives had been terminated so soon, but on the other, he understood that preserving memories of them was far more important. Those that knew them couldn't spend all their time focusing on the fact that they were no longer here. More than anything, Tony wished he could have known these amazing people. Telling stories about them could only bring them to life to a certain degree.

Between the terrifying experience they'd just endured, the sensation of Parker's exhausted form tucked up next to him, and the discussion of the late Scott, Tony's thoughts drifted to a rather dark place. Steve and Clint eagerly talked about Scott and shared fond memories; and they often did the same with Carol. How many other patients had they coexisted with here and then lost to illness? And of those, how many would come up in a conversation like this? What did it take to transcend from hospital acquaintance to true friend, someone who would be fondly remembered if they died? Tony had no idea where he stood on this spectrum, so he couldn't help but wonder how his friends would act later on if the unspeakable happened to him. If he passed away, would his friends remember him and tell fun stories about him to the next patients to take up residence at Gravesen…or would he fall into the nameless ranks of hospital mortality statistics?