Note: So my eye injury thing is back with a vengeance, leading to frustration and distractions as I try to write with visual artifacts amounting to a blinking light on my peripheral vision and an eye wrapped in cellophane. I will not be daunted, though! Also, fans of Don't Read the Last Page, remember, I had to delete that here on FFN, so if you want to read that, head on over to AO3. I have tagged it as written by both of my pseuds, so it's easier to locate.
I was watching the escape sequence in Iron Man I when I heard a piece of dialogue for the first time, despite having watched the movie more times than I can count, at this point. After Yinsen looks to see how their booby-trapped door contraption works, he says 'It worked, all right.' And Tony responds, heartbreakingly, with 'That's what I do.'
RDJ doesn't deliver the line with any special significance, and the scene is fast-moving; it's easy to miss that moment. But to me, that's every bit as important as the 'don't waste your life' line that Yinsen delivers later in the escape sequence. Tony has changes to make, but he's still the same guy, right now, until he does that. And to make those changes, he has to be the very same warmonger, the merchant of death, that he doesn't want to be anymore.
I'll always be grateful to this story for helping me spend the time to see that line. YES, the whole sequence is basically saying the same thing, 'Tony has to be a death-dealer so he can escape and stop being a death-dealer,' but hearing Tony isay/i 'It's what I do' is so much more of a gut-punch.
Chapter Twelve: The Solar Illuminance Constant (Esc)
Emory lays still, too shocked to move. The terrorist leader had walked out of their cave with all of the dignity and menace of a warlord, and honestly, that's what he is. He clearly wants to remind them of both his threat and their scrutiny, because the view port on the door slides shut and opens again immediately.
Everything about their captivity has suddenly changed.
She'd told Tony that she loved him and within seconds, the timeline for escape had narrowed to less than 24 hours. Emory doesn't know what to think, but she does notice one thing that is very pertinent to her future use of her powers: that big buildup of power has all but disappeared. It's likely a combination of a lack of concentration and the power-negating effects of fear.
"And this, kids, is why we can't have nice things," Tony says across the room as he strides over to the place he'd hidden the chestpiece. Her joy from hearing that sardonic comment (which maybe? Possibly? could be referencing her confession?) is intense, even embarrassing. Of course he isn't cowed by what's happened. Of course he's got a wry quip ready.
"I hope you are one of those men who thrive with short deadlines," Yinsen says, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves.
"Deadlines fear me." Emory watches as Tony's cocky confidence bleeds away in the face of Yinsen's steady gaze. "I could use your help though," he adds.
"It's a good thing you didn't put all of the wiring off until today, hmm?" Yinsen says with his particular brand of good-natured chastisement. "You can pound faster, but delicate work takes more time and concentration."
Even from where Emory is sitting on her cot, half leaned over because of the handcuff, she can see that Tony is trying and failing not to laugh. With a dignity that she will never possess, Yinsen shakes his head paternally and walks over to the table he and Tony have set up for electrical work.
"Any way I can help?" she calls out before either of them start on something she'd be distracting from. It's already evening, and sleep will be fleeting tonight. Even though she hadn't been able to help the men much before today, she'd at least done more than watch from across the room.
"It's less suspicious if you're sitting there looking pissed and bored. At least some of your airbending is invisible?" Tony says, offering her an apologetic head tilt. He's busily moving things around and doesn't look at her, and Emory feels a sudden stab of self-doubt.
"One problem," she says. "My usual method of power generation is off limits."
Now he meets her eyes. She's stunned to see some uncertainty there, too. It's only visible for a split second before he holds up a finger. Tony leans his head sideways, his lips breaking into a lazy kind of grin as he reaches up and pulls off his shirt. Underneath it he's wearing that black tank top that shows off his ARC reactor (and his arms).
"You are the most generous person I've ever met," Emory says, hearing the smile in her voice. "Truly selfless." Already, she is bathed with the tingle of growing magical energy, just from that small interaction.
"And you are deeply narcissistic, sitting there demanding me to perform for you when I have work to do. For shame!" he tsks. Because he never seems to do anything halfway, Tony runs a hand through his hair as he nods at her, his sexy smoulder at full volume.
"That'll do, my goodness," she tells him. The layers of power she can feel buffering her skin are intangible; unless it has built up to the extent that it starts bleeding off, the energy doesn't affect her environment uncommanded. Her emotions feel similarly invisible, except for the fact that their buildup-to-bleed-off ratio is much lower- not that it matters, now that she's told him how she feels. There's no time to deal with that, but instead of having a chance to help (and distract herself in the process!), Emory's stuck on her cot watching Tony Stark work with hot metal.
It's nowhere near as monotonous as she expected.
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Tony is very conscious of his audience. Emory's appreciative gaze is the kind of accountability that encourages him to do his best while promising a reward worth working towards.
His faceplate is crude, yes, but that's almost better. He's going to escape from this place, and he's going to do it protected by something he's made with his own hands with only the supplies they've provided. The more crude it looks, the better the implied insult.
He sinks the whole thing into cooling water, lifting it out to set it on the table where Yinsen is finishing up with some of the wiring. Their plan is going to work. And when he gets home, he's going to build another suit. One he can design with JARVIS's help. With the best materials he can buy. And once he's finished, he's going to start the painstaking process of reversing his 'Merchant of Death' image.
Thinking of home reminds him that changing the course of his business is only one side of the coin he's planning to flip. He can't afford to spend time thinking about Emory right now, though. Tony can finish up his armor (unless they barge in first thing in the morning and demand their Jericho), but there's almost no chance he'll get hers done. Feeling frantic about keeping her alive isn't going to help, and he can't think about that thing she said without feeling that panic rise up.
There's really no time to waste, so Tony starts heating the next part of the helmet.
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Yinsen wakes Emory up very early. She'd drifted off trying to use various widths and lengths of wiring to open her handcuffs, to no avail. The cot isn't bolted to the floor, so she knows they'll be able to get that side loose, but the metal of the cuff is heavy, and it's as much a psychological weight as a physical one. The symbolism is Stark, quite literally. She'll be a burden to Tony as they escape, both as someone he's been compelled to care about (regardless of intensity) and as a physical presence to protect.
"Are you nearly finished?" she asks Yinsen, who is crouched down beside her cot.
He nods. "Almost. The last step will be the computer initialization, and it cannot be hurried. Our trap will hopefully grant the time, if need be." He looks over toward the metal double doors, which now sport a gas canister and a lot of wiring.
"Yinsen?" Tony calls out.
It takes the older man a while to straighten up. For the first time since arriving at the cave, he looks old to her. She wonders if it's the stress of knowing they'll soon be on the run.
"Whatever I have to do to help you see your family again, I'll do it," Emory blurts out.
"You still have that paper?" he asks, clasping her hand in both of his. For a minute she doesn't remember what he means.
"Oh! Your address."
"Please, it will be important to get that folder, the one I told you about. And forgive the… the mess," Yinsen tells her. Tony repeats his name, and he turns his head and responds, "One moment!" When he meets her eyes again, his expression is kind, hopeful. "The power you have developed-" he breaks off, his lips breaking into a genuine smile. "I am glad it was you, if not my son. I trust you to do the right thing, in your use of it."
Before she can respond, he turns away from her and walks over to Tony. Emory knows she shouldn't take his concern as anything more than the realism his actions are always colored by- she and Tony are American, and after their rescue, it only makes sense that they'll be split up and sent home. For all she knows, Yinsen has his own scrap of paper with Tony's address on it. She can't give him one. She has no idea where 'home' will be, without Rory.
Rory Fall is predictable as hunger; intrusive, demanding, protracted, and eventually all-consuming. Even if Emory showed up emaciated and miserable, Rory would be angry at the length of time she'd spent in captivity. It's predictable, unfair, and non-negotiable.
As little as three weeks ago, these thoughts would have been far more painful, but now, Emory's made peace with her past mistakes. If anything, the inevitable rejection she expects to face from her boss will be exactly what they both deserve.
"Put your shoes on, Dorothy Dietrich," Tony says, his voice businesslike but strained as he picks up the entire metal carapace of his suit. It's draped in a blanket, which doesn't do much to obscure its shape. He carries it over to Yinsen's winch, which is set up behind a makeshift wall meant to block the surveillance camera.
"I have no intention of catching bullets in my teeth, Stark," Emory calls back to him. She sees him pause in surprise for a second before he finishes fastening the heavy armor piece onto the lifting mechanism. He turns around and her heart leaps at the pure affection in his grin. She doesn't look away while she searches with her foot under her cot for her sandals.
"You know who that is?" he asks, obviously delighted.
"Well, it's not like I know much about escape artists or anything-" she prevaricates, but Tony lifts his hand as if to wave away her words.
"Just like Houdini, she was big into disproving fake seances. That's how I met her. Seventeen years ago someone decided they were going to channel my father at a big tech conference as a gimmick." He scoffs, draping the blanket to hide one of the legs of the suit so he can carry it over. "She was already famous, not much older than me, but she gave me a call and asked if I'd like her to come make them look like idiots. Hadn't even been a year since I took over the company, Obie over my shoulder." Tony's smile had been steady the whole time, but when he says that name, it falters a bit. Emory wonders why. He kneels down in front of the armor and starts connecting wires, tossing a look over his shoulder as if to see if she's still interested in what he's saying.
Emory can't picture ever being bored around him. "Yeah?" she encourages, putting the sandals on with the socks Yinsen had given her to help mitigate the poor fit for their escape.
"I've always been grateful for that." He makes a grunting sound and there's a metal clanging noise. Tony has a wrench in his hand when he stands up to snag the blanket for the next leg retrieval. "Maybe I can bring back my dad's Expo thing, see if she'll come out for a few performances."
"I wish I could help you," Emory tells him.
"You kidding? A hot captive redhead watching me work? I'm living the dream right now," Tony teases her. "Even better, you can't come over and mess with any of it. When we get back, I'll have to buy some handcuffs and a very heavy metal chair. With cushions for when I'm done working."
Emory's heart practically stops, but then Tony tosses her a devilish grin over his shoulder before bending down to get the second leg, and she's resuscitated, exhilarated. "Why stop at the handcuffs, you're an innovator, right?" she tells him.
"You are not the only captive," Yinsen says in a singsong voice. "And I have nothing to cover my ears with."
"We'd better stop before he sabotages my flamethrowers in revenge," Tony says in the world's loudest stage whisper.
Emory wants to ask him if he means it, the implication that he wants her nearby when he's tinkering in his workshop back home, but she's well aware that it wasn't that long ago that he'd hit on her in the Hum-Vee with much the same tone of voice. The two events feel different, but they look and sound very similar.
She moves to sit on the floor, trying to lift her cot with her shoulder, as it's too heavy not to need both hands to raise it, which then pulls the shackle too tight to slip it out. While she takes a break, she sees Yinsen put their extra food in what amounts to a fanny pack before bringing over a pile of the leather protective gear the two men had gathered for Tony to wear underneath the unforgiving metal suit.
Things are moving quickly now. Her fear spikes; if she can't get free, she'll be mowed down when the terrorists come to fight Tony. He won't be able to keep them at bay and get her free.
"Tony!" she cries out, right before he positions himself at a crouch to don the armor.
"Shit, Em, you're still stuck," he says, and rushes over. He's never called her that before, and it warms her, even as she remembers the head terrorist's caution.
"You're not supposed to come near-"
Tony drops to the floor on one knee and interrupts her with a fierce kiss. He rips off one of his oversized, rubbery gauntlets so he can bury his hand into her hair. She can taste metal and sweat; her hair is all tangled around his fingers, and the desperation of it makes the forbidden moment all that more intense. Emory kisses him back with everything she has, feeling her sudden, massive buildup of energy shed gusts that stir the dust at their feet into little whirlwinds.
"This is it," he says when he finally breaks away, lifting the cot as if it were nothing. Emory knows how heavy it is, and she sits back on her heels, impressed. "Okay, stop looking at me like that, I don't have protective gear everywhere," he says with a wicked grin.
"I meant what I said," she tells him when he starts to walk away, the padding making his gait stiff and unnatural. Tony stops and looks back. He resembles an older James Dean figure with the fire of rebellion in his eyes, wearing all that leather.
"Stay alive so we can talk about it, later."
There's affection painted all over his face. She can see it. Emory nods, but when he's back at the winch, she groans inwardly. Tony is always in control, always knows exactly how to manipulate a situation to get what he wants! It's exactly right and exactly wrong, and she can't bear it, in every kind of way.
The genius of it is, her powers have gone from a low ebb to being painted over with multiple layers of sizzling energy. Just because she can, because they're about to leave, Emory pulls on the air around her, then sends a gale back out, twisting it at the last minute so it'll spin up into the ceiling.
Tony looks at her with an expression of pride as he and Yinsen settle his armor around his shoulders with the circular cut-out perfectly positioned over his glowing ARC reactor. She nods at his handiwork and hopes her approval shines just as brightly on her own face.
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Yinsen's barely gotten any of the screws tightened with the electric drill when they hear shouts outside the door. Tony can only understand the names they're yelling; 'Yinsen' and 'Stark.' He jerks his head at Emory to back away from the door, and look down at Yinsen.
"Say something!" Tony tells him, hating the anger in his voice, but they're all on edge, and for the first time, this rock-solid fatherly man looks like he's about to fall apart from stress.
"They're speaking Hungarian! I don't speak-"
"You telling me you don't know any-" Tony scoffs, and Yinsen calls out, his voice cracking and anxious. He's fumbling at the screws, but still getting them tightened, at least.
"I don't think that worked," Emory says.
It's then that Tony finally remembers the makeshift armor he'd made for her. "Shit. Emory, run. Over to my cot, there's something under there you -it'll be better than nothing."
"What about the door?" Yinsen says, aghast, but Emory dashes over and gets the heavy mashup of metal and fabric, backing away just in time.
The large explosion blasts the doors out. Tony's eyes are fixed on Emory; he's basically locked in place by the not even half-fastened suit, so he can't see what's happening behind him. He watches as Emory throws a hand out, pushing a gust of wind against the blast.
"Anthony Stark, you did not!" she says when she gets a clear look at the garment.
"I did. Put it on," Tony orders, looking down at Yinsen. "How'd that work?" he asks, meaning the results of the explosion.
"Oh, my goodness!" Yinsen says when he looks. "It worked, all right."
"That's what I do," Tony says. He says them like it's nothing, but the words hurt. He doesn't want to be this person anymore, the warmonger, the Merchant of Death, but to escape and make changes, he's going to have to fully embrace that persona. "Initialize the power sequence, it can run while we get the rest of the screws."
Tony can't see Emory anymore, but he's got to focus on the boot-up or this is all for nothing anyway. With as calm and reassuring a voice as he can, he talks Yinsen through the process. Once that's started, he suggests tightening every other hex bolt. He can hear the sound of angry yelling out in the cave proper; it's only a matter of time before they show up en masse.
This will be very close.
"Emory?" Tony still can't see her. She may be their only defense if the suit isn't fully initialized by the time the goons show up.
She comes out wearing the outfit. It looks great, even though she's still wearing his pants underneath. Her hands are on her hips. "When did you have time to-"
"Had to be sneaky," he says. He can't shrug in the suit.
"Come!" Yinsen says to her, and she scurries over, the black, filmy fabric floating behind her. Tony's distracted by what seems like a whirlwind rotating around the fire and its makeshift chimney. The flames inside the vortex are roaring. It's Emory's own booby trap, one that reassures him that she knows this is all or nothing.
The sound of the drill resumes. Yinsen's got his hands on Emory's, showing her how to use it, his lips close to her ear. She's nodding, her expression grave. Out in the cave complex, men are yelling, running.
"We need more time," Yinsen says, turning around. He reaches out to touch the progress bar on the computer screen. "I'm going to go buy you some time," he says, dipping towards Emory to kiss her on the top of her head before rushing towards the blasted doors.
"Stick to the plan!" Tony shouts, unable to stop him, unable to impose his will to prevent this. "Yinsen!" Nothing is moving fast enough. Emory's tightening his hex bolts. The progress bar is creeping along. "Go, stop him, those are enough, it'll hold," he tells her, but she shakes her head. Tony looks more closely at her, sees that she's practically sobbing. "What-"
Emory shakes her head vehemently. "Don't ask."
He barely has the patience to stand still and wait for the suit to finish up. If he pulls the plug now, none of the controls will work."He's a sitting duck, you've got to-"
"He has a gun!" She says this as if Yinsen being armed matters at all, against odds like that. Emory kneels to check his legs, and Tony's suddenly furious.
"With no armor, no protection, and neither of us as backup! Come on!"
She stands up and screams in his face. "He made me promise! He told me-" she breaks off, dropping the drill, both hands covering her mouth. Out in the cave, there's an exchange of gunfire.
Tony's angry with her but the utter grief on her face is something he doesn't want to understand. As always when he's confronted by something uncomfortable, his instinct is to deflect, to distract.
Armor.
"Hey, over on the table, a kind of vee shaped metal thing, go get it, will you?" he tells her. Emory nods, her face wet, her hair blowing in her own self-contained wind. Her powers are banked and ready, even if his are still gatekept through a computer system so old he could probably have built it in his elementary school days.
She goes to hand it to him, and he shakes his head. "It's for you. Couldn't make a helmet, so I made a shield. Goes on your right forearm, you hold it up, protect your head."
It's woefully inadequate and probably the worst idea, because if Emory spends most of her time with it up, she could be killed any number of ways from any possible direction, and she'll have no way to see it coming. But she straps it onto her arm and offers him a tremulous smile.
The sporadic gunfire and yelling from outside stops. "Get back, get behind me," Tony tells her. "Hold that shield up."
"Couldn't I push them back with a heavy win-" She breaks off, hearing the footsteps approaching as clearly as he does.
The lights in the cave flicker as his progress bar finally completes, sending a last surge of data and energy into the suit at the exact moment he needs it. Secure in the knowledge that Emory is safely crouched against the wall, Tony attacks when the time is right, frightening the goons who had come to investigate.
His heart nearly stops when two of them stand in the doorway and just rake their machine guns over the whole cave.
When they stop firing, Tony looks to see that Emory is safe. Then he notices that the swirling mass of smoke and flame around their cooking fire is about to erupt. "Now," he tells her quietly, referring to her comment about pushing the terrorists back with her powers.
Emory nods, stands, and thrusts her hands out in front of her, turning them after a few seconds as if directing the blast of air around the corner toward the doorway. That's exactly what happens, Tony sees. The men are knocked down by the force of it, and they scramble away, leaving their guns behind.
"You know how to fire one of those?" Tony asks her.
"Not well enough to manage that and a cartoon superpower at the same time."
"Fair enough. We gotta go," he says, eyeing the widening smoke vortex. She nods and comes over, regarding him with a smile that makes his pulse jump.
"Better cover your pretty face," she says, reaching up to wipe a smudge of dirt off of his cheek.
"You just did that to power back up," Tony accuses, but he flips the faceplate down anyway. She's an adorable, infuriating smartass, because that was at least 25% a quip about him not making a helmet for her.
They advance out of the doorway, with Emory periodically lobbing what he imagines are wide, powerful blasts of wind ahead of them to startle anyone coming their way. Once they figure out what she's doing, it'll warn the men, rather than frighten them, but they're useful for now. Suddenly, there's a loud noise from behind, and Tony gestures for Emory to get down as he crouches over her. A hot shockwave erupts from the cave they'd just left, and one of the men Tony had thought was dead on the ground lets out a bloodcurdling scream.
"Oh my god, I don't think I can do this, I don't think I can do this!" Emory whines in a terrified whisper.
"Yeah, well, that was the alternative, so I think it's worth a try. Just picture a soft bed and an ocean view, okay?" he says, wishing he could risk lifting the faceplate so she could see him more clearly. "A big, soft bed."
She'd been huddled against the wall in a fetal position, but when Tony straightens to a stand, she looks up at him, her own dirt-smudged face doing nothing to diminish her beauty. "Hard to picture comfort in a hotel environment, Tony," she says sadly. "I don't even know if Rory's kept all my things."
Her response is so illogical that he nearly forgets they're mid-escape. Tony's about to ask her why she'd think she'll ever have to stay in a hotel again, when she freezes, her eyes going wide. There's a fear, but also confidence, which is confusing until he hears a 'ping' against his helmet, and then a thud.
"Holy shit, he just tried to shoot you and the ricochet hit him in his own head!" Emory said in a sick, horrified voice. Tony's certain she'd expected the bullet to be deflected, but not like that. The safety implications for her staying close to him are clear, though.
"That means you have to stay back," Tony says with commanding urgency. "Promise me."
Emory nods.
To make sure they can't be snuck up on from behind, Tony backtracks just a little, but the smoke from their sabotaged fire is slowly filling the passageways behind them. Ahead, he sees movement.
"Get down, cover your head, and stay at least ten feet back, preferably around a corner. Keep sending bursts of air behind you just in case, got it?"
"Got it," she says.
Tony makes short work of the three men who are trying to advance on him. Their bullets bounce right off of him, but the strikes he makes with his massive metal arms knock them out cold. As he looks toward the twisting path ahead of him, Tony feels a rush of wind fly past him, and smiles, inside the helmet.
"Need a recharge? You look gorgeous, even when you're filthy," he yells back at her.
"Gee, thanks. Right back at you, champ!"
He's not sure there isn't a residual effect just from osmosis, there, because Tony definitely feels a surge of something. Out of nowhere, he wonders if he can persuade Rhodey to let them fly back on his own personal jet, once they're found. It has a bed.
The sad part is that right now he just wants to sleep in it, with Emory curled up beside him. That's what their escape is about, really. It's not about murder. It's not about revenge (well, some of it is). It's about hamburgers and clean sheets and comfort.
They work their way toward the front, loosely following the directions that Yinsen had given him. Tony's long since forgotten the number of steps and in which direction, but he doesn't think any of these bozos want to run deeper into the cave, so he trusts that the way they're running for their lives is probably toward the way out. He's right. The sunlight he remembers as being so harsh and unforgiving is visible at the entrance.
So is a crumpled, bloodied body propped up on a pile of rice bags. His heart stops.
"Yinsen!" Tony cries out, starting toward him.
"Watch out!" the older man warns.
The light from the opening is so bright that Tony is momentarily dazzled, and then there's an explosion beside him. It's not enough to knock him down, and he knows Emory is safely enough behind, so Tony focuses his worry for Yinsen into the precise movements he'd practiced with the awkward rubber gauntlet on. He fires off the missile without a hitch, and the figure in the doorway falls to the ground. The fire around the man suddenly starts blazing, and then it lifts, spinning, scorching, as he crawls toward the open air before shuddering and going still.
When he turns around to yell at her for endangering herself, Emory is staring at Yinsen.
Tony rushes over, raising his faceplate. "Cmon. Gotta get up, we have to stick to the plan. Em, come help get him up," he says, trying to inject some comfort into the nickname he's only just started to use, hoping it'll soothe the horror she's undoubtedly feeling.
"This was always the plan, Stark," Yinsen says, coughing.
"Come on," Tony says to both of them, using all his mental strength to keep his voice soothing, encouraging, caring. "You're gonna go see your family! Get up." He looks for Emory, but she is pressed against the wall behind them, crying.
"My family is dead," Yinsen whispers. His tone is that of a gentle parent, and Tony wants to scream, he yearns to destroy, he needs to refute.
"No, don't lie to me, goddamnit, we've shared too much for that! Stop being a father figure for once in your life and get up, do what you're told!" Tony demands.
"It's okay. I'm going to see them now, my family. My Jalila has been without me for long enough, now. I want this," Yinsen whispers. "I want this."
No amount of money, no magical powers, no hand-crafted armor will help. There's nothing he can do. "Thank you for saving me," Tony says. It's a pathetic, useless statement in the face of what he wishes he could do.
"Don't waste it, Tony," Yinsen says, using his first name for the first time, the last time. "Don't waste your life." He gasps, turning his head in obvious pain, his eyes closing, before growing still.
Tony stands there and lets the guilt wash over him, bathing in it.
This is not about a soft bed, now. Not anymore.
"Stay back," he tells Emory, hearing fury in his tone. He doesn't wait to see her nod.
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Tony's voice when he tells her to stay back is really chilling. Even though his footsteps had been heavy and frightening in the ironmonger suit already, now they sound like the harbinger of death for anyone who dares to challenge him. Emory slides down behind a metal barrel that coincidentally blocks Yinsen's body from sight, listening to the frightening barrage of gunfire outside. She's numb rather than terrified, hating that the fatherly interpreter had been right when he'd told her not to hope for his survival.
She'd obeyed him. Her hope now is that he hadn't sought to die, but just accepted it was likely.
The gunfire ceases, and Tony says something she can't hear. Then she hears screaming. He's clearly activated the flamethrowers.
Emory sucks in one deep breath, then another, knowing she can't delay her next task, no matter how painful it will be. She stands up and makes her way to the lifeless body of the man who had kept them alive over the past months. He's still doing it; she gently unbuckles the bag he'd clasped around his waist, the one with their food in it. When she fastens it to her own waist, it's still warm.
Grief is an emotion she can't afford right now, so she pushes it away. She has had plenty of practice subsuming her own emotions after so much time with Rory. Emory reaches for the power she has banked up- only to realize that it's gone. The agony of watching Yinsen die in front of her has drained it away.
"Shit," she whispers.
"Emory!" Tony's voice is loud and distorted, and she is terrified that she's just painted a target on herself by not following him closely enough. She can't possibly answer, or the goons could use the sound to pinpoint her location. Emory raises her shield and moves cautiously to the mouth of the cave, peeking out.
Everything is on fire. Everything. And she can't see Tony.
"Yeah, that's right. I have TWO of them!" he screams out, and then she sees him, standing in the middle of the flat space that leads up to the cave, firing his flamethrowers in two different directions.
Just like that, hearing his voice, seeing him safe and confident is enough. She feels her energy levels start to tick up, layer upon layer of power sliding over each other on her skin.
"The metal is really warm," Tony warns when he sees her. "Good thing that fabric's kind of thick, because we need to jet. And I mean jet," he says, walking unsteadily toward in her direction. There are bullets pinging off of him, Emory can see them. He probably can't see or hear them, by now, though.
"Hold still!" she yells over.
When they'd been in the cave, Emory hadn't risked pulling all the air she could instinctively sense she had access to, for fear that she'd do something dangerous with the fire, accidentally remove all the oxygen out of the room, or both. Now, though, she's in the open, with air to spare.
Emory throws her shield aside and starts from behind, knowing the wind will gain speed and intensity as it rushes down the hillside. She pulls from the canyon off to her left, too, the one that isn't full of flaming weaponry. She doesn't need to make such grand physical gestures, she knows, but it helps her visualize what she's doing- so Emory lifts her hands above her head before rotating both arms, leaning them to the right and shoving with her hands and her power, sending the rolling horizontal wave she's created straight for the hillside full of men with guns. Tony figures out what she's doing at the last minute and aims his flamethrowers directly into the vortex.
At least one of the men flies so high and fast he ends up sailing over the peak of the small mountain they're collected on, his clothes flaming.
There's no sense of accomplishment here, though. Just a momentary break in an untenable, deadly situation.
"Gust me," Tony says. He holds his arms out, and she pulls from as high as she possibly can reach, pulling straight down from the clouds towards Tony. "Holy shit!" he says, as the metal is etched with delicate patterns of ice crystals in a few places. He holds out one arm and flips a panel open, then waves her towards him. "Still pretty hot," he warns as he leans down to pull her to his chest, the wide, solid metal of his right arm providing a seat of sorts. "Okay, turn this red switch and hold on!"
Emory does as he asks, and immediately there's a huge jolt of energy that lifts the two of them up- which is a very good thing, as it seems as though every weapon in the terrorists' arsenal ignites at the same time as Tony's escape boosters. She can barely hold on, digging her bare hands anywhere she can find purchase, wary of pinching them between the uncaring plates of metal.
"What was your plan?" she screams against the wind whipping past.
"Air cushion!" he hollers back.
"You didn't think to-" Emory breaks off her rebuke right as Tony's handmade thrusters stop firing. "-warn me?"
There's no way to hold onto him as they start to tumble down, but with Tony Stark's life on the line, Emory Autumn will call on the entire fucking atmosphere to save him if she has to.