Tony Stark sitting in a commercial plane in one of the least expensive seats was definitely a sight to see. The man in question, however, chose to ignore the odd glances he received and instead focused on the fidget toy he had bought at the airport gift shop to keep him busy.
Why? Because he was scared. Not just scared: terrified. His condition had worsened in the few hours he had been traveling, therefore most strenuous movement hurt and he was on a plane that was about to take him farther than he's ever been before, besides Afghanistan.
But the best part? The cherry on top? He was helpless. He had already made his decisions, no going back. All he could do was sit in the seats that were a little more comfortable than he'd like to admit, play with his toys, take more painkillers and blood thinners and all the other medicine he had been prescribed, and pray that this 'Kamar-Taj' would help.
So in summary, Tony Stark was indeed, terrified, clutching the arms rests of his seat as the plane jerked into motion and began it's ascent into the sky.
A few minutes after Tony had calmed himself down, the plane reached cruising altitude, the seatbelt sign turned off, and Tony finally allowed himself to relax and let the low hum of the plane's engine lull him to sleep.
Ten hours later, Tony woke up with a scream. Clutching his reactor tightly, covered in a cold sweat, and hot tears running down his face, he ignored the nasty looks the other passengers shot him. He didn't care, they wouldn't understand that the nightmares were getting worse. He hadn't even had nightmares in a few days -they were few and far between- but each was worse then the last.
Gulping in deep breaths, Tony tried to forget his dream. Tears were still wet of his cheeks but Tony didn't really care as a sudden wave of panic washed over him. Knowing it was a panic attack, Tony tried to keep it at bay but in hindsight, trying to forget a bad dream and warding off an oncoming panic attack at the same time was really not the best idea.
About a minute passed and Tony still couldn't calm himself down. Instead, he was pulled back into reality by a warm hand on his shoulder. His breath hitching, Tony tried to focus on the man in front of him as the stranger walked him through various breathing exercises until the billionaire was calm.
Breathing reaching a steadier pace, Tony was able to focus and take in the features of his rescuer.
Bright blue eyes hid behind dark sunglasses, belonging to an older man with short, graying hair, and sporting a matching mustache.
"There we go, sonny. Breathe." Tony nodded, focusing on his breathing once more until he had fully calmed and could hold a decent conversation with the man in front of him. "That was a bad one- are you okay, son?" Tony shook his head.
"'m cold." Was all he could say, exhaustion taking over ever part of his body.
The man frowned before nodding in understanding and removing the blanket on his lap, laying it over Tony instead and tucking it in at the sides.
Tony began to shiver, the adrenaline wearing off, his forehead drenched in a cold sweat. He felt the man grab his shoulders and burry his head in the older man's side. It seemed the man had no limit on personal space, but at the moment, Tony really didn't care. He instinctively felt his tense muscles relax slightly when he felt a warm and gentle hand rubbing his back, much like his mother used to do.
Tony felt his eyes start to close slightly when he heard the old man's voice again. "What happened, sonny? That attack was harsh."
"Nightmare.." Tony whispered after a beat of hesitation. The man nodded softly, accepting the billionaire's answer.
"I get those too. They're not fun, are they. My name is Stan Lee, by the way." Stan Lee said.
Tony, exhausted, but quite a bit warner and his mind a peace, himmed. "Stan Lee. I like it. It's a good name- comforting, almost."
Stan chuckled, patting Tony's head. "Alright, sonny."
Tony's drowsy mind finally gave in to the dark pull of sleep.
Stan was shaking his shoulder and Tony woke up with a groan.
"Sonny, we're landing in five: it's time to get up. Rise and shine, fella!"
Tony pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Wha-?" He asked, squinting.
Stan looked at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. "We're in Nepal."
"We are?" Tony couldn't believe it. He was here. One step closer to healing, one step closer to life.
Stan Lee hummed. "Get your stuff, we're landing." Tony quickly obliged, pulling his carry-on from under the seat and into his lap. He didn't bother with anything else, so it was fairly easy to obey the older man.
The plane landed and Tony let go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Passengers began to stand and stretch, filling the isle with the roar of a hundred or so people. Tony followed the majority, folding his blanket and handing it back to Stan. He refused, to Tony's chagrin. Eventually, Tony caved and relented to Stan's wishes, tucking the blanket under his arm.
The two joined the crowd and left the plane, walking towards the building in a comforting silence. The airport doors opened automatically and with a small smile, thanks, and a wave, the two parted ways. Tony had an unexplainable feeling that it was the end of his friendship with Stan, but he knew that he'd be forever grateful for the older man's help.
Tony sighed and walked towards the bathroom where he washed his face and, with an Avengers-worthy pep-talk, he built up the classic Tony Stark Confidence™ the public infamously knew him for. It was going to be okay. Hopefully.
Walking out of the dingy airport bathroom with a new-found resolve, Tony started his journey by asking the information desk for directions to Kathmandu.
The employee had given him a strange look and informed Tony that the airport was in the Kathmandu suburbs.
Embarrassed, but still going strong, Tony thanked the employee and made his way outside, walking for about a half hour until he reached the main street equivalent of Kathmandu, Nepal.
Ancient stone buildings surrounded him, standing tall against the sun. Beautiful woman decked out in bright, colorful hijabs and exotic fabrics walked with men in shorts, colorful shirts with delicate designs and fun, colorful hats, to Tony's mind, at least. Tourists lined the streets wherever cars and motorcycles weren't sitting. People of every color were selling things off the side of the road, playing instruments Tony had never seen before, shouting prices in different languages, the honk of cars, the hum of thousands of people, and flashing signs made it difficult to focus. Tony was drawn to anything and everything, itching to explore, but a sharp pain in his hand when he adjusted his bag reminded him of what he was really hear for.
Exploring could wait.
Even with his goal clearly in his mind, Tony still found the crowded streets overwhelming and intimidating. Tony took a deep breath and reminded himself to appear confident as he walked up to a vendor. "Excuse me, do you know where I can find Kamar-Taj?" He asked.
The vendor shook his head, then offered him a strange fruit Tony had never seen. Tony stared at it, politely refused the fruit, and walked away. Slightly discouraged, Tony continued down the street.
He asked people left and right as he went, met with the same answer from everyone. 'no, sorry', 'i can't help you, I'm sorry', 'i don't know what that is, sorry.'
By the end of the day, Tony was more than discouraged. 'No', everywhere he went. Sitting on a box in an alleyway, Tony counted the money he had and found that he had fifty dollars.
What he hasn't grabbed more was beyond Tony, but he knew that he couldn't afford a hotel room for the night. He also knew that he couldn't use his card. Mary would know and trace him, maybe force him to return.
Disappointed and disgusted with himself, Tony cleared a space in the alley next to the box and created a make shift bed out of a cardboard box he found, his backpack, and the soft, blue blanket Stan had given him of the plane.
Shivering, Tony laid down and desperately tried to keep the horrifying memories of Afghanistan out of his mind as he fell into a light, fitful sleep.
The next day was similar, with the same results. He woke up, found breakfast, then asked everyone he came across where he could find Kamar-Taj. It would seem walking around and asking variations of the same question was easy. Unfortunately, that's not the case. It was strenuous work: it was hot, everything hurt, and Tony had never loved walking in the first place. The one upside, however, was the distraction from the nightmares and for that, Tony was grateful he had something to do.
The next day was much like the second one. Wake up, find food, ask around, yielding the same answers: no, no, no, and more no.
The fourth day, however, was a little different. He spent the first half of the day in the streets with the exact same results as the past three days when a man in green robes approached him and grabbed his wrist.
"You are looking for Kamar-Taj, correct?" The man asked in a harsh whisper.
Tony nodded, swallowing.
The man made a sound of acknowledgment. "Follow me." Without letting go of Tony's wrist, he began to walk briskly, weaving between people and cars, paying no attention to Tony's stumbling behind, barely keeping up.
Fifteen minutes later, the man finally stopped in front of an ordinary looking door. He let go of Tony's wrist at last and stepped to the side, standing so still, he looked frozen in time.
After a moment of tense silence, Tony asked the question hanging on the tip of his tounge. "Who are you, where are we, and why did you bring me here?"
In one fluid motion, the man reached up and lowered his hood, revealing a serious-looking black man.
"I am Baron Mordo, master of the mystic arts." Mordo motioned to the door. "We are standing in front of Kamar-Taj." Tony looked up at the building. It didn't look like much, but if it could save him, he'd do whatever it took.
"This is Kamar-Taj?" Tony echoed, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
Mordo nodded, placing a large hand on the sturdy mahogany door.
"Finally..." Tony whispered.
A faint smile made itself known on the other man's lips. "Yes. Finally."
Mordo pushed the seemingly heavy door opened and motioned Tony inside. "Welcome to Kamar-Taj, Tony Stark." The door closed and Tony's wide eyes took in everything and everything bathed in natural light. He barely heard Mordo's last words to him. "A word of advice, Mr. Stark; forget everything you think you know."