A/N: I'm really sorry this took so long. All I can say is...never move house. Seriously.
"It might not be a very palatable truth, but we have to accept that this was inevitable," Senator Boynton declared, leaning forwards and fixing the interviewer with a steely-eyed stare. "Mr Stark's so called 'Iron Man' was always an accident waiting to happen, and I think we should all thank God that Stark himself was the only one hurt on this occasion."
"And of course we wish Mr Stark a speedy recovery," the interviewer interrupted, with the look of a woman who could see lawyers dancing in front of her eyes.
"Of course," Senator Boynton agreed uncomfortably, before steaming on. "What training has Stark had? Advanced combat, supersonic flight, basic tactical thinking….no! He has nothing like that. And we're surprised that he made a mistake in battle?" He snorted and leaned forwards, his hands clasped together. "The guys who put together the space shuttle aren't the one we sent to the moon. I'm not taking anything away from Tony Stark here – the technology is remarkable, which is why it needs to be in the right hands, experienced military hands."
"Tony Stark did develop the Iron Man technology himself," the interviewer pointed out. "It could be that no one else knows it as well."
"Well, Stark 'developed' the technology while he owned one of the largest weapons research and development departments in the world," Senator Boynton said with a smug smile. "I'm sure that all the people who worked on it with him would know it just as well."
The interviewer frowned. "I heard he designed and built the prototype while he was a captive in Afghanistan," she objected.
"Oh, please," Boynton said dismissively. "That story is clearly apocryphal. Like I said, I'm not trying to take anything away from Tony Stark, but do you seriously believe that with the most advanced project in his company's history he put together every nut and bolt, welded all the edges…can you look me in the eye and tell me you think he did it all by himself."
"No," the interviewer conceded.
"No of course not," Boynton nodded. "It's not possible. We aren't talking about a DIY project here. The truth is Stark is standing on the shoulders of other, better men – starting with his own father – and he's treating the technology like his own personal toy. And look where that attitude has landed him. And that isn't even the main point I'm trying to make."
"What is?" the interviewer asked eagerly.
Senator Boynton adopted a serious expression. "Nobody elected Tony Stark. Nobody even employs him. What this tragic accident teaches us is that these technologies and abilities should be in the hands of people who know what they're doing. And I hope that this awful incident might at least have the effect of making Stark realise that."
"So you see the accident as being Tony Stark's own fault," the interviewer checked.
"Yes, and – "
With a click the TV changed to show women's beach volley ball.
"Hey, I was watching that?" Tony pointed out irritably.
Jarvis' smooth voice echoed out from the speakers. "Apologies, sir. I find Senator Boynton's opinions distressingly boring."
Tony stared past the scantily-dressed girls to the ceiling. "He has a point, you know."
"You do surprise me, sir," Jarvis said. "My extensive analysis suggests that he is entirely pointless."
"You keep saying stuff like that, people are going to start thinking you're going to go Skynet on us," Tony told him.
"I'm happy to assure anyone who might ask that I will not take over the world without your express command," Jarvis rejoined.
Tony almost smiled. "I'm sure everyone will find that a great reassurance," he said dryly. He closed his eyes for a second as a wave of pain crashed over him and for a while it was all he could do to keep breathing. It would be a while before he was due his next pain shot, he knew. He didn't have an addictive personality, no matter what Rhodey said, but the doctors had offered to set him up with a little button he could push to get all the drugs he wanted, and he'd had to say no then because if he said yes, he knew he'd never say no again.
He hadn't had a drink in over a month now. He supposed he'd detoxed while he'd been unconscious. Not that he was an alcoholic, but he could really use a drink. Maybe if he had a drink Boynton would stop talking in his head.
Oh, maybe a lot of the shots had hit wide of the mark, but one or two of them hit true. The truth was he thought he wasn't in this for the glory, but he liked being the centre of attention. He liked feeling useful – essential – because he knew first-hand that if he disappeared the world went right on turning. So maybe his reasons for doing this were wrong. Maybe he was arrogant to think he was the only one who should get to wear the armour. He didn't know.
Steve had told him once that he was just pretending to be a hero. There was something about seeing Captain-Freaking-America looking at you with that expression of weary disappointment and contempt that made you feel about two inches tall. Least it worked on Tony. If the Avengers ever somehow ran short of money, they could hire Steve out for interventions and PSAs. They'd make a killing.
Steve had never exactly got around to taking that back. If he even wanted to take it back. Tony had never asked if he'd changed his mind. There was no way to say 'I just caught a nuclear missile and willingly almost died taking it away from the city. Impressed?' without sounding desperately needy. Besides. He hadn't done it to impress anyone, but if he had, it wouldn't be Steve.
(I just saved the world. Do you love me now, Daddy?)
It was very difficult not to drift off into the bleaker parts of his mind. He was trying not to, since that talk with Steve – seriously. Intervention. He should suggest it. – but it wasn't easy. He hurt and he was exhausted and he'd been lying in this bed for over a month, and he couldn't move. It was worse when he was alone.
"Where's Pepper?" he asked. "I got pillows that need fluffing."
There was a brief silence. "Miss Potts flew to New York yesterday evening." Jarvis said evenly. "She had several meetings on Wall Street and with the board and stakeholders."
Right, of course. "I remember," he said, screwing his eyes shut. But for a moment there he hadn't remembered and they both knew it. That had happened before. Memory lapses and confusion. The doctors said it was temporary. Nothing to worry about. But it terrified him. Every time he felt a little less like himself and he wondered just what else he might be losing.
"Do you want to call a nurse to attend to the pillows?" Jarvis suggested.
"What? No," he answered absently. "No, they don't do it right." He wanted Pepper.
No one else was here right now. Thor was off seeing Jane, and Natasha and Clint were on some surveillance mission – he didn't know the details. And he didn't know where Bruce or Steve were, but he guessed they had other things to do.
Natasha mostly came by in the morning. She'd sit and drink her first cup of coffee, watch the news and talk to him. Bruce visited at lunch, normally with a stack of the latest scientific journals they could read and argue over. Clint and Thor tended to come by together, since neither of them liked hospital visiting. But that was fine, because they'd sit around and watch TV or play video games and often Bruce would stop by, or even Steve, and that was even better. And Steve tended to visit in the evening and they'd talk about anything and everything.
Of course it was nice that they hadn't forgotten him. He was...grateful, for want of a better word. But there was a routine now and he felt like visiting him had just become one more duty, and he was dreading the day when it became a chore.
"When will Pepper be back?" he asked. He couldn't remember.
"This evening," Jarvis told him. "I do not believe she would have left if it wasn't important."
It was important, he knew that. Pepper was trying desperately to keep the company afloat. Apparently seeing the joint-CEO being crushed by a giant mech on national TV made the markets nervous. Who'd have thought?
The share price was almost as low as it had been after he'd declared they weren't making weapons anymore. Pepper and Jarvis had tried to hide it from him, but if it didn't rally soon, they were in danger of having to make cutbacks. And he knew how he should be feeling about that, knew he should be coming up with ideas, taking at least some of the meetings himself – by Skype, if necessary – but he couldn't summon up the energy. And that only made him feel more useless.
A nurse came in and changed his IV and he watched her vaguely through half shut eyes. She left without saying anything, presumably assuming he was asleep, and he sighed as the pain lessened. It felt indescribably better, and he closed his eyes, anxious to sleep while he had the chance.
He was woken by the sound of the door opening, and he half lifted his head to see Nick Fury stride in, looking ill at ease.
Fury had been by a couple of times, but it had been awkward. They might respect each other, but truthfully, outside of Avengers business, they didn't have a whole lot to talk about. Or, rather, Tony had plenty to talk about, and Fury wasn't interested.
"Well," he said, trying to sound bright and succeeding in sounding slurred. "What brings you down here?"
There was a pause and Fury just stood there looking at him. "How are you feeling?" he asked at last.
"Just peachy," Tony told him. "I was thinking of going for a jog later."
"Good." Fury continued to stand there.
"Sit down, would you?" Tony asked irritably. "You're making me nervous."
Fury looked round and pulled up a chair. "I hear your physiotherapy is not going well," he said bluntly.
Tony swallowed hard. "It's been two sessions," he pointed out. Two ten minute sessions. In which he'd managed to actually work for less than two minutes, and he hadn't managed to actually do any of the ridiculously easy things they were asking.
"Yes," Fury agreed. "But it isn't going well. Let's be honest here, Stark. Our very best case scenario has you being out for a very long time."
He gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry if that inconveniences you."
"The Earth needs her defenders," Fury went on looking him straight in the eyes.
"What do you..." he began, and then he got it. "No."
"Time and time again Iron Man has proved invaluable," Fury stated. "You really think we're not going to need that technology again? Your willingness to share your armour could make all the difference."
"No," he said again, his jaw clenched. "Not going to happen." He managed to prop himself up on one elbow, his arm trembling alarmingly and he didn't know if it was pain, exhaustion or anger. "This is what you want, isn't it? You wanted Iron Man, you didn't want me."
Fury snorted derisively. "You think I've been waiting for some giant robot - "
" - mech, it was a mech," he interrupted harshly.
"You think I've been waiting for some giant mech to beat your ass to hell?" Fury demanded. "This isn't about your ego, this is about the safety and security of this planet. I'm not asking you to turn your designs over, I'm just asking you to let The Avengers – your team use it."
"Get out," he snarled, unable to stand the cold logic anymore. He was Iron Man. He was. And he'd earned that. "Get out now."
Fury raised an eyebrow. "Whose helicarrier is this anyway?"
"Then I'll get off this ride at the next stop," he promised, and he meant it. "Get out." Fury stood up and headed towards the door, but not fast enough, and Tony grabbed a water pitcher from the table and flung it recklessly. "And don't come back!" he yelled as Fury left.
Bruce stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and staring.
Tony clenched his fist. "You might want to be somewhere else," he advised, and with a thankful nod, Bruce vanished.
Alone, Tony let himself fall back down onto the bed, shaking and exhausted.
"Jarvis, start calculating the quickest way to get me home," he ordered. "For tonight, preferably."
"Sir, I really think you would be best discussing this with Miss Potts," Jarvis pleaded.
Tony closed his eyes and tried not to think of Pepper's face. "We both know what she'll say," he said hoarsely. "Please."
"Of course, sir," Jarvis said unhappily.
"Thanks," Tony said.
In his head a parade of people told him that he'd never measured up, and now he was useless.
Fury. Boynton. Steve. Dad.
He took a deep breath. Somehow, he had to prove them wrong.