Chapter 6 - Hit the Floor

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows. I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

- E. E. Cummings

He made it. He was there. He made it.

Tripping on the small lip that separated the outside from the in, Tony tried to catch himself before he fell, more afraid of the landing than the fall. The coat-rack was there to catch him. Rhodey's coat rack. The one that was the source of several days worth of teasing, because what college student needs a coat rack.

At the time it had been beyond lame, but as Tony clings to the only thing keeping him on his feet, he silently takes back every snarky word he's said about the thing. He would have to let Rhodey know he was wrong. Apparently, they did need a coat rack.

The humorous contortion of facial muscles that would grace Rhodey's expression when he admitted the fault was enough to remind him of his goal. The bedroom. He needed to get to the bedroom. He wasn't feeling the best right now and he'd learned long ago never to show weakness to anyone, not even his first real friend -who wasn't driven away by his father, or had cancer and died, or was 30 years his senior, or turned out to be a damn pedophile- no, not even to him.

Taking a deep breath, Tony heaved himself off of the surprisingly sturdy piece of furniture and reached out to knock the door shut before attempting the last laboring lurch toward his side of the apartment. With each jarring step his wounds pulsed, while flashbacks to their cause made him dizzy, made the short trip seem longer than it should be.

It was his own fault, really. He'd been angry, an emotion he was beginning to experience more and more of late. The trick was to hide his irritation, just as he hid his pain, beneath a blinding facade of pearly whites and politically incorrect snark. Unfortunately, it was a trick he hadn't quite yet mastered when it came to his father. But he was older now. Bigger, though not quite as big as he one day hoped to be. Still, big enough not to take anymore of his father's shit.

Or, at least that's what he'd thought before he'd been succinctly reminded why that would never be. Time away had dulled his recollection of his father's ire, and his fists. As rude awakenings went, this one hadn't been so bad, nothing he hadn't experienced before. Certainly the searing pain in his chest that accompanied each breath was familiar. He barely even noticed the tang of copper filling his mouth.

The amount of blood caking his shirt was new though. Oh, he was used to seeing it, just not so much of it. Of course, there was that time a few years back when his dad had found out he'd hacked into the Pentagon* and had broken a 300k vase on his head, money he'd then been required to pay back with yet another lucrative upgrade to a military bulletproof vest.

Okay, so maybe he was used to seeing that much blood after all. It'd just been awhile since he'd felt this awful. But it was okay. It was alright. He just needed a little bit of sleep, and then he'd be better. He wouldn't give his father the satisfaction of knowing that an insignificant, negligible fist fight nearly took him down for the count.

He didn't have breath to cry out when his leg finally gave out. Tumbling down to the floor, his brain exploded into blinding white stars that were quickly fading to black. Though he fought against the incoming dark, raged against the cold grip of weakness, he just couldn't find the strength to get back up. The only consolation he had was that at least this time, his father wasn't here to see it.

The slamming of a door jarred him awake, but it took the entire chorus of a badly sung Part Time Lovers in order to pull himself together enough to force his eyes open. He couldn't recall how he got on the floor, as he only just managed to catch Rhodey's dancing feet disappearing into the room down the opposite hall.

Good. His roommate hadn't noticed him lying in a sad heap. If he could just make it to his room everything would be fine.

Forcing his body to move, Tony pulled himself another inch closer to the door. He didn't try to stand. His right leg had tingled like it was covered in pins and needles all the way back, and the fact that he could no longer even feel it was a pretty strong indicator that it probably wouldn't hold him up anyway.

Another inch and the bump of the door against his hand made him realize he'd been closer than he thought. Pushing the door open on silent hinges he pulled himself another inch. A hitch in his breath was the only warning before he was hit with a searing pain, accompanied by a distinct lack of oxygen. Tony took a moment to stop, making sure to take shallow breaths to avoid another hitch. He was so close. Already halfway inside the door. He just needed to pull himself a bit more, maybe try for a kick to shut the door, and he'd be home free.

He reached his arms, trying for one last big pull, when a sudden lurch of his stomach made him stop and gag, chest blooming in pain as he simultaneously tried to suppress the sound. For a moment he focused all his energy on keeping his lunch inside his body. The battle was a short one; the black took him before his stomach could fully decide one way or the other.

This time it was the frantic calling of his name that brought him back.

"Tony?! Tony damnit wake up! What the hell happened to you man... Tony?! TONY?!"

It was the annoyance of the repeated demand that finally motivated him to attempt to open his eyes. Rhodey's frantic warm brown ones looked down at him with such worry.

Wait warm? He supposed they were warm. Or maybe he was just cold? No they were definitely warm. Like making cookies with mom.

"Tony?! Can you hear me man? Say something?"

He tried to nod, realised that was a very bad idea, and attempted to wet his lips instead.

"I think the deaf woman at the end of the block can hear you, Rhodey."

"You would know since you're always over there upgrading her tech. I bet you somehow made a hearing aid that let's her hear a mile away."

"I believe, I just said that," he responded, lips quivering as he tried to smirk.

"Oh shut up." Rhodey pulled his phone from his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked, dread creeping up.

"Calling 9-1-1!" Rhodey responded like he just asked the dumbest question of all time. "You do realize your bleeding from the head don't you?"

"Stop. Don't." he rasped out, ignoring the blooming pain in his shoulder and chest as he raised a weak hand to grab his friends wrist. "I don't want to make a fuss. Not after everything has finally died down from last month. I just need to get to my bed and sleep it off."

"Tones, there is a lot of blood here. I think you should go to the hospital. If you don't want me to call, then I'll take you."

"No, no, no, you know they'll still get wind of it. I'm fine. Honest. I had a bit of a tumble down the stairs before I left to head back. I cleaned the cut, but I didn't realize it had started up again. It's not that bad, though. You know how head wounds bleed. Look see for yourself."

Tony managed to turn his head and released his grip on Rhodey's wrist, inviting him to get a closer look. There was a moment of silence while the older roommate inspected the wound that sliced right above his ear and down his hair line with a critical eye.

"This looks like it needs stitches to me."

"What, you're a medical student now? It's fine, I promise. Now just help me to bed okay?" And then, because he'd finally come to terms with the fact he'd be unable to get there without help, he swallowed his pride and spoke again.

"Please?"

Tony saw the defeat in Rhodey's eyes before the sigh came.

"Fine, but you're going to let me clean and bandage that wound like you should have before you left on a damn three hour drive."

"Hey that was for your benefit," he quipped, trying not to slur his speech as he grew tired once more. "Thought I'd give you some practice for when you get shipped out."

"Shut up, Tony," Rhodey mumbled as he wrapped one of Tony's arms around his neck and bent down to squeeze his arm underneath the smaller boy's shoulders. Tony was happy to comply with that directive as breathing had become difficult once more.

"On three," he warned.

"Okay."

"One, two, and up."

Being the older of the two, and the fact that Tony was still growing, made the job all too easy for the new soldier and in seconds Tony was off the ground and standing on his feet. A moment later, however, he was bent over and vomiting, half of it missing Rhodes and half of it decidedly not.

Shame poured into Tony hot and heavy as he realised that weakness had bestest him in this fight. Rhodey was his friend. He was helping Tony when he didn't have to, hadn't even asked him any questions, and Tony repaid that kindness by ruining another uniform. He didn't even know why he tried sometimes, why he kept trying to prove his father wrong when the truth was so glaringly obvious in everything he did.

Schooling his face, he tried frantically to hide the emotion behind the smirk he'd cultivated the last couple of years.

"Sorry 'bout that," he quipped, looking up and bracing himself for the disgust that would surely cool those warm pools looking down at him. The horror he got instead confused him.

"Rhodey?" he questioned.

"You're bleeding," came the near whisper as eyes flicked from the streaky vomit still on his arm to Tony's mouth. "You just threw up blood."

"Oh. That. It's not serious."

Almost before he could fully get out the excuse the hand holding him up vanished and Rhodey's phone was once more in his hands.

"No, dont-!"

The demand was cut short as his body began to crumble with the lack of support.

"Shit! Tony!" Rhodey yelled, dropping the phone and dashing to catch him. While Tony was glad he hadn't hit the floor, the pain blossoming at the firm grip of the arms and hands around his torso sucked him down, down, down.

He couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't open his mouth to reassure his friend that he was fine. There was nothing but pain. He hovered there in that strange state of almost awareness as he felt Rhodey lower him to the ground. The movement pulled at his shirt and he knew the exact moment his friend got a glimpse at the bruises on his chest, as it was accompanied with another curse before frantic hands lifted the material to see better. Rhodey said something else then, asked him something maybe? But Tony wasn't there to hear as he finally slipped into full darkness.

Occasionally a voice broke through the black, but he never had the strength to rise enough to respond.

...Shit. Shit! He's not responding. Tony? Tony can you hear me?…

...I don't know! Shit. I don't think he's breathing. His chest isn't moving!...

...Okay. Okay, yea I think I feel the air? Damnit I don't know!...

...It won't matter if he's dead by the time they get here! Tell them to get ready for us

...Allergies?...

...Fever is rising. BP dropping...

...I can't get a hold of his parents. What the hell happened to this kid?

...He just dropped into A FIB! Get a crash cart in here now!...

...Dr. Arnold? I think there's something wrong with his leg…

...looks like possible liver, spleen and kidney ruptures...

...Damnit. Prep him for immediate surgery!...

The next time he surfaces it's blessedly quiet. Everything still hurts, but the dull heavy feeling of his limbs and brain lets him know he's on powerful pain medication. He doesn't open his eyes. He knows that no one is there.

That's alright though. It's not so lonely this time, not so hard, knowing that the pain he endures is for his mother. She would be here, he knew, if his father would let her. Howard wouldn't let her, of course, not after Tony's blatant display of disrespect.

Tony found himself smiling at the memory. It was foolish of him, perhaps, but no less than his father deserved. He'd been furious when he'd returned to find his mother in such a depressed state. Though unsurprised at his father's behavior, he'd been livid that Howard had been so careless as to let a picture of his affair leak into the news. It was beyond disrespectful; it was cruel.

It had only taken one phone call to aunt Peggy to set things right. He had a feeling she knew more about his father's less reputable habits than she let on, but she never asked about his bruises or bloody noses and cut lips; though often there had been an open invitation in her penetrating, questioning gaze. If he ever did choose to reach out, he knew she would respond. He never had though, because he was a Stark man, and he could take it.

His mother, however, had done nothing to elicit or deserve such treatment at the words and actions of her husband. His father had been furious when he'd returned from what Tony assumed was a very long and enlightening conversation with aunt Peggy, along with the remains of the self drawn divorce papers Tony had faxed to her that day.

No, his father had not been happy at all.

The hard goodbye had been worth it, though. He cherished the smile that had lit his mother's face when his father had asked her out to a dinner out of seemingly nowhere. Relished the laugh that tore through the house at the ridiculous antics of an entire circus troupe, filling up their outer patio for an anniversary that Tony had made sure his father hadn't forgotten. Adored the soft kisses on his head in the dead of night when he pretended to be asleep, and she pretended that her coveted head pats wouldn't have woken him even if he had been asleep.

The memory made his lips twitch upwards. Though she was over 200 miles away, he could almost feel the soft hands that would run through his hair and the soft voice that would whisper the one soothing truth that was only allowed to be voiced in the quiet moments between the tsunami that was Howard Stark. Would she come to see him when she found out he was very hurt? Would she believe the lie he would tell her when she did?

"You better not be dreaming of Evelyn. I know that was a great night for you, but need I remind you of her horror when she realized your real age? You do know that's why she transferred right?"

His eyes snapped open so fast he almost strained them. He blinked furiously at the display of light and waited for the acclimation, determined to see what his ears already knew.

"Rhodes?"

"Right here my man."

A hand landed lightly on his shoulder as his eyes finally focused enough to see the familiar face looking down at him. Tony glanced around in confusion, noting the chair that was pulled close to the bed and away from a table, with the scattered remains of a backpack that spoke of long hours of waiting. But for what? For him? It was such a novel experience, he didn't even know how to respond.

"Why are you here?" his eyebrows furrowed. He knew that wasn't the right thing to say, but he couldn't figure out what was the right thing to say.

"Really? That's what you're going to lead with? Shoot. Hell if I know Tones. I came home from lunch with the plan to get a jumpstart on the end of semester project and what did I find when I sat down? Blood. Where might you ask? On my fingers. My fingers. How the hell did I get blood on my fingers without knowing it, Tony, hmm?

"Don't answer that; I'll tell you how. It was the door. You left handprints of blood on the door when you came in. Of course, I didn't know that then. No, I had to find you on the floor when I stepped out of my room to wash my hands. 'I'm fine, Rhodey. I'm not dying. Trust me. Just help me over to this bed here where I would have fallen asleep and died and scarred you for life'. Do you know how much stuff they hit you with Tony?

"Broken ribs, punctured lung, ruptured spleen, lacerated liver, perforated bowel, and femoral neuropathy. And that's just the shit I could easily pronounce. You also had some kind of subdermal or subdural brain bleed from the cut that was 'nothing' and some kind of hemo...pneumo...thorax problem in your lungs that stopped your heart!"

"Rhodey."

"No, I'm not done. I had to sit there alone because I couldn't reach your parents. That's of course after I realized I didn't even know their number and had to run back home to get it from the database in your car. I never did speak to them either. Just got some butler named Jarvis who says he relayed the message, but they're not here, Tony. I'm here. Damn near pulling my hair out cause it'd been three days since I last saw you, and the staff insisted that only immediate family are allowed in the ICU. And you want to know why I'm here?!

"I'm here because I couldn't take the damn silence. I'm here because I got so worried I called in a favor from Jumbled Jim, Jumbled Jim Tones, to hack into the hospital database and put me down as your illegitimate half brother. I'm here because my best friend almost died, and I needed to watch his six to make sure the sick bastard that did it didn't come back while he was out...That's why I'm here, Tony."

Tony was speechless. It was only half by choice, seeing as the drugs in his system made the tirade seem much longer and drawn out than he guessed that it really had been. He blinked, trying to think of something witty to make Rhodey laugh, but the concerned eyes that bore into his made him think perhaps the blink had been longer than he thought.

"Tony?"

"Thank you." The words were immediately followed by a coughing fit that jarred his ribs and chest tube and alerted him to the slightly horrifying existence of a catheter that was the only thing currently saving him from embarrassment.

"What?" Was his friend's immediate response before grabbing a cup of ice and offering it to him, telling him to take it easy. He motioned it away and repeated himself.

"Thank you," he said simply, relieved when he saw his friend's shoulders finally fall, the tension released. Rhodey slumped back into his chair on a long sigh.

"You're welcome."

The brief silence was so comfortable that he almost drifted off again, but then he remembered something Rhodey had said, and his eyes, that had closed at some point, peeled back open.

"That is not why she transferred," he suddenly insisted, offended at the suggestion. "She told me she'd always wanted to study abroad."

"Sure jailbait. That's why."

Tony waited all that week for the call. Then, two days before his release he developed pneumonia, a fact that was explained to him twice, because the first time his body had tensed and he lost the ability to talk or move or even blink, as the overwhelming smell of chlorine assaulted his senses. He'd been told later that the rather terrifying anomaly had been a latent seizure, a result of the scar tissue build-up in his brain, and that he may suffer from epilepsy for the rest of his life.

He wasn't too worried about it though. The medicines were effective for both diagnosis and soon his stay would come to an end. No, it was the silence that bothered him. Even though Rhodey had ultimately driven him here, the news had still leaked. Just yesterday several paparazzi had almost made it to his room before being caught by staff and thrown out. He knew that she couldn't come. He knew that. He'd thought though, that once she'd found out she would maybe call? Just to make sure he was okay?

Halfway during the next week and three days before his new release date, Jarvis showed up. He was there when Tony opened his eyes that morning, sitting in the same seat Rhodey sat in whenever he visited and looking as if he'd been there the whole time.

"Master Tony. It's good to see you."

Tony's smile was genuine. He really had missed the man. Jarvis couldn't stay long, though. He'd only come to make sure Tony was okay. Apparently, his father had decided to surprise his mother with a vacation to Australia for an Outback holiday the day after Tony left. While it hadn't been specifically stated, he understood very well what Jarvis refused to say.

His father had been told about his hospital admittance and forbidden Jarvis to pass the information on to his wife. Then, to solidify the order he'd taken his wife out of the country where they couldn't be contacted. Of course to reassure her and prove a point, he would keep her close by.

He didn't understand why that little piece of information bothered him. It wasn't like he hadn't done this entire situation before. Of course, his mother had always been there before, but that shouldn't have mattered. At 15 he was a grown man, or nearly so at any rate. He very clearly no longer needed his mother to fuss over him quite so attentively. He could take care of himself now.

As if in answer to that statement, Rhodey called right at that moment to inform him that he was being sent to New York for a week for mandatory officer's training, but would call every day to check on him and would be back before the end of the next week.

When visiting hours were over Tony bid Jarvis farewell with much less enthusiasm than he'd been greeted with. His second seizure nearly occurred before the butler could make it out of the hospital and presented itself in a much more violent manner than the first. After another dose of Dilantin to counteract the effects, antibiotics for his pneumonia, and another round of oxygen therapy, he was finally left alone.

With the few people who cared for him otherwise engaged, he sat quietly in his bed for the last three days of his recovery and tried very hard to convince himself that it was the lingering pain of his injuries that made his eyes fill up; that it was the jarring cough from the infection in his lungs that made his throat burn; that his heart most certainly did not ache to be 10,000 miles away, with the woman who was never without it.

Afterall, he was a Stark.

He was made of iron.