Chapter 5: Together / Apart
Day 111 of the Alien-Human War
In the week following the activation of the vision implants, the Avengers had relocated to a base in Detroit, Michigan, hadn't had any more alien encounters and were, for lack of a better term, regrouping.
For most people it meant recharging their batteries – so to speak – getting their gear checked and giving their injuries time to heal. For Tony it was a chance to find a proper lab space and start talking to J.A.R.V.I.S.
It was a fortunate thing Tony was a genius and thus possessed a better-than-average brain, because otherwise he would have gotten hopelessly frustrated with the data his AI was telling him about but which he couldn't see. For the time being they had agreed to let his brain rest when it came to the implants, save for various tests.
Bruce joined them in the lab on most days during their stay at the base. Tony always enjoyed their time together in any lab, and like always, Bruce was ready to immerse himself in megabytes of data, give Tony his opinions, venture past comfortable limits and make vague guesses at things that probably couldn't happen in their lifetime, but which would be awesome and very helpful if they did.
"I can't believe there isn't an outright problem I could poke at," Tony complained after they had stayed up for nearly fourteen hours straight. Bruce had finally lured him to lie down on a crappy excuse of a couch, with Bruce half beneath him like a human-sized pillow. Bruce's fingers, where they were laid out on Tony's stomach, drummed an uneven pattern.
"That's because the implants are, at this stage, close to perfect," Bruce replied, annoyingly certain of himself. "We didn't just do the surgery on a whim. We both went over the data, as did various other people, not to mention J.A.R.V.I.S."
"I like you better when you're busy freaking out about letting the beast out," Tony teased him.
"You always say that when I'm right about something you don't like," Bruce chuckled, breaths warm against Tony's ear. "We'll figure it out. All we need is a better lab, more number-crunching power, and a lot of good coffee."
"I thought you didn't drink coffee."
"With all the chances to exercise these days, I'm starting to find maybe coffee wasn't the problem in the first place," Bruce confessed. He was, of course, referring to their on-going battles against the alien invaders, and the frequent occasions the Hulk had joined the battle. They were long past the point when it was counter-productive to let the Hulk join the ranks of the Avengers; they needed the monster – just as Tony needed Bruce at times like this. Whenever Bruce was prone to forgetting how important he was, Tony liked reminding him of the place he had in his life, if not anyone else's. It was his opinion that mattered on most days, anyway.
Bruce shifted, his nose brushing at Tony's scalp. "We should go find something to eat."
"We should sleep."
"That, too. But food's important."
"I'm tired of war rations," Tony complained.
"I'll see if I can find us some actual food. Fruits or vegetables…"
It highlighted how horrible their lives had become that Tony felt ready to beam at the idea. He started sitting up, stomach growling a little at the prospect of food, then detected the faint sound of the electricity going off and turning back on a second later; the second of silence was unsettling yet natural, seeing as they had spent enough time in places that had long been cut off from any power grid.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he called out.
"We should go, now," Bruce said, speaking faster, and began untangling his legs from around Tony's hips.
"What's going on?" Tony asked, voice rising in alarm. He could tell something was up.
The distinct sound of Mark 50 activating reached his ears. "Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. announced through the speakers an instant later, "we must evacuate at once. An enemy force is approaching the base."
"Evacuate?" Tony frowned, struggling to his feet, reaching out to find either Bruce or one of the bots, seeing as the armor still seemed to be where he had told it to stay along the far wall of the lab.
"Two Category 5: War Ships have been detected, followed by five Category 4: Troop Transfer ships."
That was bad – and not just bad but infinitely worse than any day they had seen so far. Not once had Tony heard of more than one War Ship being present on any field of battle, no matter the size of the alien assault. "Do you think we pissed them off when we blew up that Category 4?" he asked out loud.
"Probably," Bruce agreed. "Or, they're moving up their timetable." Tony heard him moving around. "J.A.R.V.I.S., make sure Tony stays safe."
"Of course, Doctor."
"Where are you going?" Tony asked, alarmed. "Let's go together."
He heard Bruce pause his back-and-forth movements, no doubt getting any equipment together that they might want to salvage. "It's okay, Tony," Bruce said, fighting for his voice to stay even. "I'm not going to leave you."
"Okay," Tony replied, feeling small and insignificant. He knew he was holding Bruce back, because if there was a time to allow the Hulk to be the welcoming committee, this was it. "You should go," he decided. "J.A.R.V.I.S. and the bots will get me to safety." He tried getting his bearings, noticing once again that sudden spikes in stress levels made it hard to focus on his whereabouts, even when he had pretty much memorized every inch of this room during their stay.
He could sense Bruce's hesitation. "Here," the scientist finally said, pressing the lightweight helmet into Tony's hands. "Don't use it unless you have to."
Tony nodded, although it was hard to resist the allure of vision. Battles like this could drag out, though, and they were currently uncertain how long his brain could withstand the stress of the implants before it became dangerous for him. With Extremis, Tony was confident he could stretch the timeframe, but it wasn't a risk worth taking at this point.
He heard Bruce leave, just before alarms began sounding in the distance. A door fell shut between him and the rest of the world, and for a moment Tony stood there, lost despite his moment of bravery.
"Sir?" J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, either to receive an order or to make sure Tony hadn't gotten lost in his thoughts.
"How's it look up there?" Tony asked. The lab was several floors underground, which meant he probably had to get moving so that he wouldn't get buried alive if the worst happened.
"The attack appears imminent. Mr. Odinson is preparing for battle, and Dr. Banner has just met with Captain Rogers, receiving his orders to join Mr. Odinson."
Tony nodded. "You know, after all this time, you could be on first-name basis with them all," he suggested.
"That sounds highly unprofessional to me."
"Right, because the things we've done lately are completely professional," Tony snorted.
"With all due respect, if you are referring to your close bond with your teammates, I see nothing wrong with that. I am glad they are able to make you feel safe."
Tony wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing at all. "Dummy, You," he called out instead. "Grab… whatever we need. Do we need something?"
"I will have the bots collect the necessities. If you would carry a bag, sir," the AI requested, and Tony heard the armor moving further away, then turn and walk all the way to him. Tony reached out blindly and Mark 50 moved so that his hand touched whatever was being offered to him – which in this case was a messenger bag.
It took a little effort for the bots to bring over things that Tony tried to fit in the bag alongside the helmet. Just in case Mark 50 was needed elsewhere, Tony didn't want to put the helmet inside the armor. It wasn't a norm that J.A.R.V.I.S. flew one of his suits to battle without Tony in it, but this battle was gearing up to be at a level of destruction that might warrant every able man to fight, and Tony wasn't going to get in the way of that.
"Okay, I think we're done," he decided and carefully made sure the straps of the bag had been fastened. He would hate to lose any of the items in the bag, which consisted of the helmet, a couple tablets, a few miniature hard drives and several of Bruce's notebooks that he had left behind. It had been good of the bots and J.A.R.V.I.S. to notice them, because while Bruce might have gotten over it, Tony knew he had a lot of useful data scribbled down on those pages – including some test results from the implants and theories for improvements.
Dummy rolled over to him, assuming his duty as Tony's guide. It might have been easier to get in the armor, but Tony had felt highly unpleasant the last time he was in the armor without the ability to see, and he wasn't about to repeat it unless he absolutely had to; the feeling of being pulled at unexpected times and in startling new directions had made him feel totally out of control, no matter how he rationalized it in his head afterwards. J.A.R.V.I.S. had been surprisingly understanding of Tony's reluctance, and it wasn't as if they had known how it would work until they tried it.
They left the lab together, You leading the group, Mark 50 bringing up the rear. The fight either hadn't started yet, or it was very far away, but Tony kept the pace brisk and asked them to lead him to the elevators, seeing as he couldn't get the bots to ground level on his own. Fortunately it was an industrial elevator, because otherwise they might have had a problem between the armor and the bots' combined weight.
Tony waited uneasily as the car moved up. The smell inside was of dirty metal and rust. You and Dummy kept up a steady concert of small sounds that either had no meaning or were meant for Tony's comfort as a type of elevator music. When the elevator came to a halt with a small jump, Tony feared the power had gone out again. However, he heard the door open, and Dummy started moving forward.
At ground level, it was much easier to hear that things weren't going their way: people ran past him in both directions, forcing the bots to halt. Tony turned his head left and right, clutching the bag with his free hand although the strap was safely over his left shoulder.
"This way, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. finally announced, briefly touching Tony's right arm, and they all turned to follow the armor. They stayed near the wall, moving in single-line formation save for Dummy who kept Tony between his own body and the wall – effectively keeping anyone from running into Tony.
Outside the few rooms he had almost learned to move around in during their stay, Tony eventually had to let go of the bag and trace his free hand along the wall, his left resting on Dummy's arm. With every step he tried convincing himself there was no obstacle waiting for him to trip over. If nothing else, J.A.R.V.I.S. would warn him.
The hallway seemed to go on forever before Dummy slowed down and Tony did as well. He heard the armor halting altogether and tried following its lead, but bumped into it anyway. "What now?" Tony asked.
"I am… awaiting news," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, clearly focused on something. Tony gave the AI a moment, trying not to feel anxious. The crowd had almost magically vanished, only a few striding or running footsteps drifting past him. For a second he wondered if they were in an area that had been ordered to be evacuated, but J.A.R.V.I.S. wouldn't have taken him here if that were the case, so he breathed in and out, waiting for the AI to figure out their next move.
If only he could put on the helmet and see for himself…
"We must move, now," J.A.R.V.I.S. finally said. Tony heard the servos complain and suddenly felt the armor's painfully tight grip on both his forearms, making him start and lean away from the touch. "Sir, please," the AI begged.
"What?" Tony asked. "Just pick a direction and I'll follow."
"The fight is starting."
"Then take us to shelter!" It shouldn't have been so hard for J.A.R.V.I.S. to comprehend that, which meant the AI was truly afraid for his wellbeing.
The armor let go of him and Dummy jerked forward. Tony hurried along, one hand on the robotic arm and the other following the wall, to have some semblance of control. He couldn't run, which they all should have known, and the fast pace started to make him feel uncomfortable after a little while because he had no idea what lay ahead of him, one or a dozen steps away.
They turned a corner and Tony lost touch with the wall – just before the hallway they had left behind imploded. The wall of air and debris that hit him from behind threw Tony forward by several feet. He was slammed down to the floor, fine shards of glass, metal and plaster digging into his skin like needles.
"Sir."
His AI's voice was barely audible over the rush in his ears.
"Sir!"
Tony struggled to his knees – only to be blown back down as another blast shook the entire building. The bots shrieked, loud enough to pierce the thick veil thrown over Tony's senses. He tasted dust, smelled smoke and felt an unyielding grip take him by his right arm, dragging him forward before forcing him up. Tony's hands slid across the familiar front of the armor, searching for purchase. He heard something collapsing and even more creaking sounds, like the entire building was coming down around them.
"Sir, you must get inside the suit," J.A.R.V.I.S. urged him. "The building is coming down on top of us."
"No," Tony protested feebly. "The bots –"
"You are more important than the bots."
"I'm not leaving them behind!" Tony snapped. "Pick a direction."
J.A.R.V.I.S. let out a sound of hot desperation that he must have adopted from Tony over the years, but the armor relinquished its hold – only to drape an arm around Tony's waist. "This way," the AI said and led them forward and then sharply to the left. Tony wasn't walking so much as being dragged along, but he heard the bots following, struggling over some of the uneven terrain where the floor was either cracked or covered by debris. He knew it was insane, but they had all come this far and after losing Pepper he wasn't about to lose the bots, too.
They were suddenly outside.
Tony hadn't even noticed a doorway – if there had been one – and he sniffed the air. Something was burning but not in their immediate vicinity. The armor's arm loosened its death-grip on his waist and Tony slid out of the embrace, taking the armor's elbow instead. It wasn't as easy as following a human but J.A.R.V.I.S. had observed the Avengers long enough to be able to mimic their small cues.
The bots trailed behind them, tires crunching, a chorus of reassuring beeps and whistles following Tony's progress.
A brief whine crossed the air behind them, followed by a massive explosion that seemed to blow the air in all directions and shook the ground. Tony faltered, feeling the pressure from the blast pushing from behind. He didn't hear cries or shouts – not over the roar of a crumbling building.
"Keep moving," J.A.R.V.I.S. urged.
Tony clutched at the armor, forcing his legs to keep moving, trying to ignore the sudden roar of weapons, human and alien, and the obvious destruction that followed them. The hard ground, most likely asphalt, kept heaving like a wave of water, reminding Tony of an earthquake. A chopper flew over their heads, the sound sudden even in the midst of all the other noises, yet it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
"Down," came a warning from the armor before Tony was wrenched down towards the ground, with a bruising force that felt like it might dislocate his shoulder. The armor's arms wrapped around him, pulling him further down and to the side, and the bots shrieked just before another whine and an explosion traveled through the air, uncomfortably close. Tony felt heat on his skin and pressed his head down, trying to protect himself although he had no idea what was happening and where the danger was coming from.
A hum filled the air, starting so low it seemed to rattle his bones. The armor rose abruptly, yanking Tony to his feet, and the hum intensified to an almost unbearable level.
"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, dragging Tony's consciousness away from the hum and towards the familiar sound. "A Category 5 ship is above us."
By 'above us', Tony assumed the AI meant it literally. For once he was glad he couldn't see it, although the knowledge was enough to make him shake.
"I must go," J.A.R.V.I.S. added. "I must join the fight, to lead the ship away. Go with the bots. They will keep you safe."
"No," Tony protested, heart jumping into his throat. "You can't just leave me." First J.A.R.V.I.S. had wanted him to crawl into the armor and abandon the bots, and now the AI was going to just ditch him while a War Ship hovered above them? It didn't make sense.
"Captain Rogers knows where you are. He and the other Avengers will come for you."
The words sounded hollow, like lies told to a child to make him cooperate.
"You will be safe. Mark 50 is attracting the enemy's fire; I will cause a distraction and you will have time to get to safety. They will come for you, soon. Until then, stay with the bots. Use the helmet if you have to, but not unless it is necessary."
Tony felt numb when armored fingers framed his face, and he reached out for the chest-plate he had designed with his own two hands. The steady hum of the arc reactor was easy to focus on, even with the War Ship's engines stirring the air all around them. "How is this logical?" Tony asked. "You're supposed to stay with me, no matter what," Tony argued weakly.
"I will never leave you," J.A.R.V.I.S. promised. "But I must take the armor away from you. To do what you would do, if you were wearing it."
Tony nodded numbly. He told himself not to be afraid. It probably sounded worse than it was. J.A.R.V.I.S. was just taking precautions, seeing as the aliens had come to attack in force and it was possible the Avengers were in their targeting system. "Make me proud," Tony ordered.
"I will," J.A.R.V.I.S. promised. The armor's hands fell away and Tony felt it step back. The telltale whine of the repulsors momentarily drowned out the hum of the War Ship until the thrusters shot the armor into the sky and the sound faded away.
One of the bots tugged on his hand. Tony turned, reluctantly, feeling even more lost and blind, but he held onto the bot and followed it as he heard the familiar sounds of repulsor blasts rise to the challenge.
The sounds of battle intensified for a few minutes. Tony walked in a crouched position, instinctively, expecting the War Ship to drop on him at any minute. Crouching didn't make it less likely but it helped him feel small and insignificant.
Part of his mind pondered whether this was the moment when all promises came to an end. Was this where his usefulness ended? J.A.R.V.I.S. never would have left him if the AI didn't believe the Avengers were coming, which made the possible betrayal even more painful.
Despite all the possibilities, he kept walking. The bots directed him a little to the right until the ground started dipping downhill.
The direction of the battle had turned, moving further away; thunder rumbled and lighting struck down to the ground, making Tony jump a bit but keep going; thunder meant Thor, and if Thor was still in the game, so the others should be.
After a long while, he began to hear the sound of lazily running water. The gentle slope had come to an end and the bots guided him forward. Tony smelled salt and oil, the odor unpleasant, almost industrial. You moved ahead again, then banged against something that sounded like a large metal wall, and Dummy took him closer to the source of the sound.
Tony reached out, feeling a wall beside him. Metal, possibly a shipping container. When they reached You, Tony felt around some more, finding the door and the lock keeping it closed. The bots protested loudly and You snapped his claws around it, almost clamping Tony's fingers in the process, trying to pull the lock off.
"Find me cutters, or a metal pipe. Maybe an axe," he instructed. In the distance, he could still hear the battle going on. High-energy weapons from the aliens struck down. Tony could almost smell the destruction; he had witnessed it often enough when he could still see. He wasn't sure how hiding inside a container constituted safety, but he could either keep walking or find cover and wait for someone to come get him.
If someone came…
He refused to think about it. J.A.R.V.I.S. had said he'd talked to Steve, and Steve would come if he was alive.
That was another unpleasant thought Tony refused to dwell on. When he had still been fighting, at least he had known when things were going downhill. Now, he was left sitting on the sidelines, fearing the worst and hoping for anything else.
The bots moved away from him, rummaging around. Tony tried to focus on them, to envision what they were doing. As enough time passed, his fingers began to clutch the bag he was still carrying. The helmet was safely inside, and if he put it on, he would know where they were, if they were in immediate danger, and what to do next.
J.A.R.V.I.S. had told him not to put the helmet on unless he had to, but Tony knew the AI was overly cautious. If he got killed standing around, it wouldn't matter whether he fried his brain or not.
A slight dragging sound came closer to him, metal against asphalt, and one of the bots nudged his arm carefully. Tony reached out, letting go of the bag and the helmet, and found the bot holding a metal pipe in his grip. He took it, measured it in his hands, then fit it inside the padlock's loop. He pulled at it with all his weight, then felt a bot grab onto the pipe as well, but none of it worked.
Frustrated, Tony flung the pipe to the side, kicked at the crate door – hitting it hard – and almost doubled over from the brief stab of pain. "Fucking hell!" he screamed and curled his fingers around the padlock, the heat of the pain seeming to transfer from his toes to his hand, and suddenly the padlock fell free, the metal turning hot in his hand.
Tony dropped the lock, hearing the telltale clunk as if fell on the ground, then smiled smugly. "See?" he asked the bots. "I'm still useful." Dummy and You praised him unanimously, never the ones to disagree. Tony nodded and faced the door, felt around for the rest of the locking mechanism and finally managed to open the crate doors.
The smell he encountered was dank but not rotten. Tony considered it good luck and slowly entered, then stopped, retreating to see how high the threshold was. One of the bots came over, trying to climb in, but it wasn't working. Suddenly Tony's hiding place looked less appealing. He wasn't going to huddle inside a shipping container while the bots were left outside.
"Either find something to make a ramp or we'll find a different place to hide," Tony decided.
One of the bots – probably Dummy – protested loudly. That left You, who tried to move inside the crate again and failed.
"I'm going to build you rocket boosts the next time I'm in a lab," Tony promised. "Then you can fly around."
The bots let out a series of beeps.
"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" Tony teased. He didn't think the bots could experience vertigo, but who knew…
Something heavy landed on top of the crate.
Tony crouched down and let out a small yell of alarm, then forced himself to stay silent. If it was an alien, he would be screwed. Something shifted, scraping along the roof of the crate, heavy steps following. Tony's fingers reached for the straps of the bag while he tried to remember where he had thrown the metal pipe: he was not dying without a fight. The alien bastard was going to get cooked, but first he needed to see what he wanted to hit –
"Tony."
He almost yelled again, a war-cry dying in his throat when he registered the sound as his name, not some alien screech. He gripped tight at the bag as his heart thundered in his chest. "Thor!" he exclaimed. "You gave me a fucking heart attack!"
Tony heard the weight drop down from the top of the crate, as well as the tell-tale thud of Mjolnir being lowered to the ground. The bots cooed and Tony envisioned them looking up at Thor's post-battle sweat-and-grime-covered body.
"Fangirls," he muttered.
Thor moved inside the crate. "I do not –"
"Never mind; not important," Tony told him and tried to listen for something else. "Where are the others?" He always hated this part; one or more of the Avengers came back, to join him in the aftermath of a fight, and he wasn't sure whether the rest of them were in the infirmary, cleaning up or lying dead somewhere. So far it had never been the last option, but it didn't mean he wasn't acknowledging it as an eventuality.
"They are coming," Thor reassured him. "The battle is not going in our favor. There have been many casualties and we are retreating as fast as we can. The Captain said we would be better off going on foot; less noticeable to our enemy."
Tony nodded, understanding that. He also felt a little guilty because this was a possible retaliation for his attack on the Troop Transfer ship. "Do you think this is my fault?" Tony asked, his voice echoing inside the crate. "The last battle –"
"Was glorious and well-fought," Thor told him confidently. "It raised our spirits and showed we still stand a chance against this enemy. If this is a repercussion, I can only feel that it is because we have struck a chord of fear in our adversaries."
Tony supposed there was that, but it didn't justify all the destruction and the deaths that inevitably followed. "Did you see my armor?" he asked instead. "J.A.R.V.I.S. took it in to battle."
Thor let out a deep sigh. "I am sorry: your armor took a bold approach against the enemy, diverting their main attack for important minutes before it was decimated by our foes." Tony felt the Asgardian's hesitation. "Is he going to be okay?"
Clearly Thor meant J.A.R.V.I.S.
"Yeah," Tony said confidently. "He's… He wasn't only in the suit, you know? His consciousness has been transferred to multiple locations – some of them orbiting Earth, just to be safe – and he'll be back. Already is, probably, if we have some manner of wireless communications up."
Thor hummed and moved closer. Tony could tell when they were within touching distance: it was like there was a charge in the air, making his skin crawl like he was expecting to get shocked. However, when Thor's hand reached out and grasped one of Tony's hands, gentle despite the power he wielded, there was no pain and no current charging between their bodies. "Come," Thor said softly and pulled Tony along. He was one of the few who had not yet comprehended the best way to lead him around, but Tony knew the way out this time, minding the small drop at the threshold, and then stopped when Thor stopped.
Tony waited, as patiently as he could. Thor was still holding his hand, and whether that was to ground Tony or to keep him feeling secure, he wasn't sure. It worked, oddly enough, like some pre-programmed animal instinct. Tony felt less alone, more secure, and the fear of the unseen wasn't as pressing.
Eventually he heard footsteps: a person came jogging over, movements light, and it had to be Clint; a roar and a heavy crash introduced the Hulk to the scene, and Natasha came soon after the beast, a burnt smell clinging to her.
"You okay, Nat?" Tony asked, unable to get the smell out of his nose.
"Lost a few inches of my hair, but I'm fine," she replied, knowing better than to lie.
"Where's Cap?" he asked next.
"On his way. He wasn't that far behind me," Clint replied.
"And Rhodey?" Tony hadn't heard the approach of the armor just yet.
"Rhodey's taking off with another group, to secure a bunch of civilians. We're taking another lot," the archer explained.
"We would move faster alone," Natasha sighed.
Tony made no comment about speed. Between him and the bots, it would already be slow going, but he wasn't about to leave the bots behind, even now. The others would just have to pick an easier route and walk slower for all he cared.
The Hulk marched over then, effectively halting the discussion. The ground trembled as the monster drew closer, but Tony refused to move out of the way; he knew he could trust the big guy, and besides, Thor wasn't moving either.
"Do we have clothes for Bruce?" Clint asked, which was a good question.
"Puny Banner," the Hulk huffed with passion.
"A naked, puny Banner, if we don't have anything for him to wear," Natasha observed.
Tony felt the air stir as the Hulk huffed again. The big guy liked his smaller alter-ego just about as much as Bruce still trusted the Hulk, but the war had forced them to co-exist more than before, which slowly seemed to be taking them in a better direction. Not a perfect harmony, by any means, but Bruce rarely fought the transformation anymore and his first questions weren't about whether he had hurt someone.
Thor shifted minutely, and Tony could smell smoke and ruin as the Hulk leaned closer to him; Tony heard every breath like a storm trapped in a barrel and he wondered what the big guy was doing. "Let him be," Thor mused.
"Dirty," the Hulk growled.
"Speak for yourself," Tony shot back. He didn't know how dirty he was, or the Hulk, but with years of experience from battles of various scales he could tell that no one left a fight without a smudge or two on their faces.
A too-large hand caressed his head, suddenly, gentle around the implant sites. Tony could feel fine dirt falling off him and grimaced, closing his eyes against it. "Stop," he ordered, although softly. "You'll tear off the gauze."
The Hulk pulled his hand back, letting out another huff. "Need to move," he announced next.
"As soon as Cap gets here, we will," Natasha agreed.
"Better be here soon," the monster grunted, the words followed by the telltale sounds of the transformation. Everyone waited until it was over, and once it was, Tony let go of Thor's hand and moved forward, having a fairly good idea where Bruce might be. A hand reached up for his soon enough, guiding him in, and Tony crouched down beside the half-naked scientist. Sometimes he thought Bruce felt less uneasy around him because he couldn't see the awkward state he was in, post-transformation. Then again, Tony had been rudely interrupting Bruce's attempt to center himself since they met, so it was nothing new.
"I think I might have a pair of pants in my bag," Tony said. "Something the bots picked up from the lab before we left."
Bruce gave him a weak chuckle and Tony slid the bag around his body, allowing the other man to take a look. Most likely the discovery was pleasant because no one voiced their disappointment, and Bruce shifted around for a moment before settling down again.
"Steve should be here already," Clint noted, taking a few steps.
"I shall go look for him," Thor volunteered.
"Give him a few more minutes," Natasha asked. "He's bringing other people with him, and you flying around could attract the enemy."
Thor wasn't happy about it, but he stayed put.
Bruce, in the meanwhile, continued where the Hulk had left off, bringing up a gentle hand to brush any remaining dirt off Tony's shaved head. "The wounds are healing nicely," he stated.
"They've taken their sweet time and you know it," Tony grumbled. Extremis should have completely mended the implant sites by now, instead of healing slower than normal, if possible.
"Extremis knows they're important, and instead of possibly harming the implants by regenerating at a normal rate, it's letting your body heal around them." Bruce sounded so sure about it, and Tony decided it was better for his mental health to trust in his opinion.
As Bruce finished cleaning up his head and clothing of small pieces of debris and dust, a large group of people reached them. Tony couldn't tell how many there were, but he hopefully thought he could tell Steve's purposeful stride apart from the others'.
"We need to move out now," the Captain's voice rang out a few seconds later. "We've wasted too much time already, and the enemy's spreading out after us. It's getting dark, and we won't get far."
"Where are we headed?" Clint asked, probably preparing to scout ahead.
"South, along the water's edge. There should be another base near Toledo."
"In Ohio?" Natasha confirmed. "That's nearly…"
"Sixty miles away, I know," Steve said. "Let's move out. Tony…"
"I'm fine," Tony said, because that was always the big question.
"I know," Steve said surprisingly. "I have something for you," he said, moving closer, and Tony prepared for a touch somewhere on his body. Steve pressed something in his hand, and Tony curled his fingers around it, finding an earpiece. "J.A.R.V.I.S. is online. The suit didn't make it, but he seems okay."
"Of course he is," Tony tried rolling his eyes, then placed the earpiece in his ear and tapped it.
"Sir," the AI said promptly.
"Taking a vacation, are we?"
"Hardly, sir."
"Good job today," Tony offered, getting to his feet.
Bruce rose beside him and reached into the bag one more time before securing it and adjusting it on Tony's shoulder so he could keep carrying it. The item he had picked last was a loose woolly hat – selected to keep his shaved head warm should they venture outside like this – and Bruce placed it on Tony's head with a few, careful tugs before offering Tony his arm. Tony took it, thankful; Bruce was tired after the fight and could match Tony's sightless pace easily. Also, he was a reliable guide.
The bots rolled into motion beside them, and Tony heard the noises of dozens of feet shuffling on their trail. Most of them weren't military, their strides too uneven.
"It will be dark in less than two hours," he heard Natasha tell someone, probably Steve. "We need to find shelter –"
"We need to put distance between us and the base, first and foremost," Steve replied, voice sharp. He clearly didn't like it, but either he had orders or it was his choice to begin with. Whatever the reason, Steve was sticking to the plan, which meant it was the most strategically sound option they had.
"We won't be able to see more than a few feet in front of us when the sun goes down," Natasha went on disagreeing. "How are you going to lead these people through unknown terrain without backtracking and adjusting the course every half a mile?"
"I can see in the dark," Tony offered. "The implants don't differentiate between light and dark."
Silence followed his offer, but he knew they were thinking about it because there hadn't been an outright objections.
"We go on as long as it can be deemed safe for you," Steve decided. "Then we take a break. By then, I bet everyone will just want to get some shut-eye and rest their feet."
They had a plan, which stopped any other arguments people may have felt like volunteering.
After walking for close to half an hour they stopped to open Tony's bag and fit the light helmet around his head. It locked into place and Tony breathed through the initial burn of the connection; he was glad J.A.R.V.I.S. was back in contact with them because the AI detailing the progress to him made it slightly more pleasant.
The second calibration was less unsettling than the first, as if his brain had adjusted to the new mode of vision. Tony took all the time he dared to get his bearings, then checked his surroundings: there were almost fifty people with them; a third of them wore S.H.I.E.L.D. or military gear, the rest looking like civilians.
With an idea of what kind of group he was going to be leading, Tony looked up ahead. The implants picked out the water on his left, rippling, deep, oddly colored due to the small temperature changes. It looked alive, ready to spring up and swallow him, but Tony told himself it wouldn't – because it was just water.
He focused on walking instead, moving past obstacles and looking beyond the obvious, leaving the others to trail behind him. The bots stayed near him, as if he still needed their protection and guidance, but Tony was happy to be his own man for a moment. To serve his purpose and be of use to the others, instead of a burden.
Day 68 of the Alien-Human War
In the time that followed Pepper's funeral in California and their eventual return to the fold, Tony had had time to settle into his blindness. While it should have gotten easier when he had more chances to adapt to it, Tony had begun to realize he loathed the darkness: it left him vulnerable, but more importantly, it made him feel alone. The other Avengers, holding Tony to his word to let them help him, had become the single most important way of alleviating his fear of being abandoned.
Fury and several other high-ranking officers had given all of them a lot of flack for their AWOL departure from Oklahoma, but, honestly, who was going to punish the Avengers – who were one of the main reasons the war hadn't already been lost?
Rhodey, rather unexpectedly, had decided to stay and fight alongside the Avengers. Until then, he had been doing his own thing with the Air Force, but after Tony's accident and Pepper's death he seemed adamant about not straying too far from Tony. If someone implied he was trying to fill Iron Man's shoes – and successfully at that – Rhodey denied it, but Tony never told him not to do it.
"War Machine isn't Iron Man," Rhodey had told him one evening in the back of a truck as they headed out to another base.
"No, but to the untrained eye, they're enough alike to keep people's hopes up," Tony had mused. "As long as I'm not getting back into the armor, you might as well stick around and do your part."
"Don't you fear we'll like Rhodes better than you?" Clint had teased, but it wasn't the first time and it always put a smile on Tony's face.
"He isn't a genius," Tony had retorted.
"We've got Banner for that."
"When he isn't big, green and mean."
Bruce had chuckled and shifted his foot so that his and Tony's touched across the isle. With the small gesture, Tony had felt secure enough to fall asleep, leaning against Rhodey's shoulder for support.
It was moments like those Tony had cherished when he struggled with his daily tasks.
The first time he'd felt like he needed to shave, the situation had almost ended in a frustrated huff and a claim that he would get rid of the goatee altogether; he might have been able to do that much without cutting himself and bleeding to death.
Rhodey had sat him down after he'd finished ranting and carefully trimmed his beard for him. Since then it had become a routine between them. The only one who ever presumed to take Rhodey's place was Clint, strangely enough, but Bruce had said his handiwork was just as good as Rhodey's, so Tony let it go.
With only his vision impaired, Tony still had the need and desire to exercise. Problem was, there were only a few things he could do on his own without fear of hurting himself; they were at war and there was no treadmill for him to run on.
Steve and Thor had trained together regularly for years, whenever Thor was present, and they had always been a fine match for each other. Tony, after getting Extremis, could have offered them a bit of a challenge, but without the ability to see his adversary, it wasn't much of one. Or, so Tony had thought: one day he'd wandered into the small gym at their current base of operations, with Dummy as his guide. After he had listened to the Asgardian and super soldier go at it for a few minutes, Tony had suddenly been pulled in with them.
They had gone slow, painfully so, and it had been grappling more than anything else, but after Tony had spent an hour trying to drag Steve's body down to the mat, he had been blissfully exhausted. When he had gone to bed that night, he hadn't even dreamt.
On most nights, however, Tony had and still did feel uneasy. He hadn't actually 'dreamt' since he lost his sight, but the feelings of unease and terror had been so palpable that he might have as well been having a nightmare; he heard sounds in the darkness and sometimes he wasn't sure whether he was awake or caught in a nightly horror show that didn't differ so much from his waking hours.
In the beginning it had been worse, of course. It always was before nightmares became a routine.
After he had spent several nights tossing and turning after their return from California and had finally refused to sleep altogether, Bruce had confronted him about it: "You need to rest. So much of your energy is used during the day that you can't afford to stay up all night."
"Maybe if I'm tired enough, it will be easier to actually sleep," Tony had snapped. "You know what constant nightmares are like."
"I do," Bruce had admitted. "Is there something that would help? Sleeping pills?"
Tony had shaken his head. "Extremis neutralizes their effects."
"What is it that you dream about, specifically?"
"Darkness. Sounds and noises I can't see. Being alone, left behind, and waking up not knowing if I'm actually asleep or not."
"Anxiety, then."
"To put it mildly," Tony had huffed. "Got a remedy for that?"
They had both known that the real problems were the psychological effects of going blind in a time where the weak were left behind to fend for themselves. Just because the Avengers had vowed to keep Tony with them wouldn't change the fact that they were at war, and war took its toll on everyone.
"I think we should try something," Bruce had offered, sounding thoughtful.
"If it includes yoga –"
"Maybe you shouldn't sleep alone," Bruce had cut him off with a sound of sharp determination. "If you're not alone when you wake up, maybe it will alleviate some of the anxiety. I realize you barely have a moment to yourself as it is, but you need to sleep."
Tony had known that, and just like with the shower thing, Bruce had been the first to get in bed with him. After the initial strangeness of it, Tony had relaxed and drifted off, worn out from lack of proper rest, and when he had woken up at night, sweaty and disoriented, Bruce's voice had been in his ears, fingers combing through his hair, and instead of forcing himself to stay awake for the rest of the night, Tony had drifted back to sleep.
For the first few nights it had been Bruce, but then he had been needed at the lab and Rhodey had been Tony's obvious second choice. It had worked just as well, although Rhodey hadn't been sure what to say when Tony had woken up whimpering at night; before Tony's injury, they had learned to see each other's strong side, trying to keep up a solid front. Rhodey adapted to the changes, though, and Tony had a feeling the other man rather enjoyed being able to be there for Tony, finally.
When it had come time for the Avengers to join the war effort again, Tony had known he would be left to fend for himself at night. He had been a trooper about it, though, saying he would manage. The two first nights had been hard, and then Clint got shipped back to base, after he had been injured during the fight, and it had led to the first time Tony slept next to someone other than Bruce or Rhodey.
After that, it had been a steady rotation amongst all of them, and depending on their location, sometimes even two of the Avengers shared his bed. Tony had gotten the feeling by then that it wasn't just to comfort him, but all of them.
It had been odd, yet not completely unexpected, that Steve had become one of his favorites. In bed, he was solid and so fucking warm, and every time Tony woke up, Steve did as well, and Tony could almost hear his heartbeat, which was almost better than just feeling him and hearing his breaths in the dark.
Tony tried not to play favorites, appreciating the extra effort from his team. He never caught them arguing about who had to sleep with him next. Tony liked to think that even a hardened spy like Natasha actually meant it when she whispered Russian endearments in Tony's ear when he had trouble getting back to sleep after a particularly oppressing dream. They both knew he understood every word, even the little verse of an old Russian lullaby she murmured into the night; it was moments like those when Tony had to believe it wasn't a hardship for any of them to be there for him, with him.
Their sleeping arrangement was just one thing that became a routine between Tony and the others. It was rare that Tony was completely alone with the bots and under J.A.R.V.I.S.'s supervision; at least one of the Avengers was always somewhere in the room, doing their own thing, and as crowded as it made Tony feel, as if his independence was being questioned, the benefits were too blatant to be overshadowed by his light irritation.
With the constant company came the subtle announcements whenever someone was coming or going – either by J.A.R.V.I.S., which was an old, comfortable habit for Tony and the AI both, or by the Avengers themselves. Whenever a stranger approached, it was J.A.R.V.I.S.'s duty, if possible in the current setting, to instruct the person to maintain their distance from Tony; he didn't like being touched out of the blue – or out of the black, as it were. People tended to forget that, especially when something urgent happened, but as long as Tony could avoid it, he did.
Besides, he still didn't like being handed things, more so than before. He would rather have people set the item down somewhere and let him take his time figuring it out and then seize it. Tony made an exception for most of his teammates, if the situation called for it. His absolute favorite way of having others hand him things came to involve Dummy or You playing the middle man; the bots had been built to help him, to interact with him, and it made sense they would only give him things that weren't dangerous.
If there was room to choose – and there often was, unless the Avengers were out fighting – there were certain routines that grew between them. Natasha never helped Tony in the kitchen: she didn't bring him his food, didn't pour him a drink, or help him unwrap his lunch. There was no obvious reason for that, as far as Tony had figured. It made even less sense that she would voluntarily help him in the bathroom – even the shower – and Tony never felt like he was expected to do anything other than shower or do bathroom-y things. Perhaps that was why she did it; to make a point.
Clint never trained with Tony. Whether he was afraid he would hurt him – which didn't make sense since Thor and Steve didn't share that fear – or if he just didn't want to slow down to be on Tony's level, no one knew.
Steve was the least eager to offer Tony help when he struggled, which Tony thought came from Steve's own past of being the sickly little guy. However, when Tony's pride prevented him from asking for Steve's assistance, the other man knew when to step in – wordlessly, without comment, as if he were a natural extension of Tony for as long as he needed it.
Thor had always enjoyed describing things, and he still did so. Tony had never really listened to his tales of Asgard more than was necessary, but he found that Thor's descriptions, even when he lacked the proper vocabulary, were often the most satisfying – save for Bruce's, but that was just because Tony clicked with his science bro.
Bruce came out of his shell when they were alone, which was perhaps the most pleasant surprise to come out of the whole experience. He liked to touch, which Tony allowed, and he slept close to Tony whenever they shared the bed. He recited scientific formulas to Tony when he couldn't sleep and even told Tony how it felt to be inside the Hulk's head. In the darkness, it seemed they were both at ease, finally, and Tony didn't look too hard at why that was.
Rhodey was… he was doing his best to adjust, but took the longest. He wasn't particularly good at leading Tony around, too stiff to give him enough cues, but he tried so hard that Tony let it go rather than suggesting someone else give him their arm. The things Tony did with the others – showering, shaving, checking him for injuries – didn't feel nearly as intimate with someone else as they did with Rhodey. It wasn't the bad kind of awkwardness and they often laughed about it, forcing the miniscule amount of lingering tension to retreat. Rhodey said, one time, that he hated seeing Tony like this and that it was really hard for him sometimes, but he held firmly onto Tony's hand afterwards, unwilling to let go, and Tony took it as it was.
As a whole, the team had grown closer in a relatively short span of time, in a way fighting together had never done. Tony had often wondered whether it would have happened if he had never lost his sight; the war would have still gone on and the Avengers would have struggled through one battle after another, and while it surely would have brought them closer as a team…
Tony's condition had made them all a bit vulnerable, but it wasn't a bad thing.
Still, it didn't take much to upset the delicate balance and breach the cocoon of safety Tony had woven around himself.
The alarm came in the middle of the night, jarring Tony out of his sleep. On either side of him, both Clint and Natasha jerked into wakefulness as well, scrambling off the bed, leaving Tony momentarily alone in the midst of the sheets.
"Fuck," Clint swore, over and over. Tony could tell he was pulling his clothes on at top speed, and then he heard his bow snap open. "They're here," the archer said, words coming fast, like he didn't have a second to spare. He must have already heard something Tony hadn't, and Tony tried to remember if he had taken off his own earpiece just before bed, or even earlier.
"Go," Natasha ordered, and Tony hoped she was talking to Clint and not him.
"Just do as you're told, Nat," Clint murmured an answer. "Take him and keep him safe."
"You stay safe," she replied harshly, then tugged on Tony's arm abruptly. "You need to get dressed. The aliens are attacking the compound and Cap ordered me to get you out of here."
Cap, not Steve, which meant Natasha was annoyed by the orders. Tony didn't pay attention to that part when the actual news reached his brain. "The aliens are attacking us? Here?"
"As we speak," Natasha said, and as if to agree with her, a loud bang echoed through the entire building they were in, coming from the outside. The power went out, an eerie silence falling around them that even Tony could detect.
He hurried to the edge of the bed, taking the clothes Natasha handed to him, dressing as quickly as he could. "The bots –"
"We don't have time to get them," Natasha said, tugging on Tony's shoes for him. He fought not to pull back his feet to do it himself, or to argue with her until she dropped the hard-ass act and agreed that they should get the bots. "They're safe," she stated next, as if knowing what Tony was considering. "They're at the mobile lab, where you left them, and that place is safer than where we are right now."
"So let's go there," Tony suggested.
"Too far and in the wrong direction." She zipped up his jacket and pulled him to his feet, then stepped away, leaving Tony standing there dumbly, waiting for her guidance. He heard her moving around, collecting items, and finally she returned, just as another bang shook the building.
The aliens had never attacked a base of any kind before. Mobilized military force was more their thing, or a heavily militarized base, and Tony was starting to feel that this was some kind of repetition of the attack on his house in Malibu. However, it was more likely that the aliens had decided to change tactics and bring the fight to them, instead of allowing the humans to choose where their battles would be fought.
Natasha forcefully lifted Tony's hand to her arm and pulled him along. When they got out to the hallway and down a short flight of stairs, Tony heard broken glass crunch under his shoes and smelled smoke in the air. In the distance, people were shouting and screaming. The sound of weapons followed soon after, familiar, making his blood rush loudly in his ears.
Tony wasn't sure why Natasha didn't just dump him in some shelter and join the others in the fight. Well, he knew how useless shelters were against the alien weapons, which could dig craters in the earth, collapse a building and shake others within a quarter-mile radius; if they wanted Tony to survive this, the only way was to take him outside the fight zone – and that was, most likely, what Natasha had been told to do.
No one else was joining them, by the sound of it, and Tony tried to fight the sick feeling in his stomach.
"Keep moving," Natasha told him when they got outside. The air was thick with smoke and dust, smells and sounds assaulting Tony's senses. At one point he was certain he stepped on a body, but Natasha forced him to keep walking.
For the longest time it didn't sound like they were moving away from the fight. Tony felt like suggesting that Natasha should just take him to the bots and leave him there, seeing as they weren't putting any distance between themselves and the danger, but the fact that she could see their situation with two healthy eyes and he could not made him keep his mouth shut; his ears struggled to make sense of every sound, but most likely didn't give him the perfect glimpse at what was really happening.
The smooth street ended abruptly, forcing Tony to slow down. He heard a sharp exhale of either disappointment or frustration from Natasha and tried to move faster, but he either took his time or risked falling and hurting himself, and they both should have known which was preferable. A few steps later, despite her feelings on the matter, Natasha slowed down as well, allowing Tony to find his footing as the terrain got harder to read with bumps and slippery grass.
They came to a steep downhill grade soon after. Tony stopped in hesitation, not knowing how far it would go or whether it would end in a sudden drop if he moved too fast. Natasha didn't leave him time to debate, however, tugging him along, and Tony focused on keeping his balance and not falling over. He yearned to ask her for a description of their surroundings – anything to know what lay in wait. It wasn't in Natasha's nature to divulge such information if someone couldn't already see it for themselves, and occasionally Tony wondered whether she forgot Tony couldn't see, despite his hesitation.
"There's a drop coming," she said. "No more than three feet down."
Tony slowed down, instinctively. Three feet was a lot when you didn't see it. He had been forced jump before, and there was a reason why someone was usually ready to catch him – usually Steve or Thor, both of whom were able to hold him up effortlessly and soften his landing so that it felt like nothing to him.
He doubted Natasha would do the same.
When they got to the edge, Tony toed the line between solid earth and emptiness. Somewhere below, he heard water. Natasha jumped in without warning, a splash following. The steady, rising sound of something exploding began to grow behind them, and Tony stiffened to wait for a stirring of air and heat on his skin.
"Come on," Natasha urged. Her arm had disappeared from Tony's hold just before she jumped, and now she reached up to urge him to join her. It startled and scared him all over again, and his foot moved out over the emptiness. Her hand came to rest on his knee, squeezing, steadying him. "Three feet, no more. There's water at the bottom. The surface is smooth and a little slick."
Description. Finally.
Tony nodded, lowered his foot, then waited for her to move. Once Natasha let go of his knee, Tony took a step forward and sort of jumped, hoping he wouldn't hit the edge on the way down.
He didn't.
However, the water shocked him, even when he knew it was there, as did the slick, hard bottom of whatever ditch they had jumped into. Tony began to fall, his brain imagining the icy plunge before it happened, but Natasha's arm reached out before he ended up lying in the water, helping him regain his balance before it was completely lost.
"You good?" she asked.
"Yeah," Tony nodded, straightening. The water was moving, not rapidly but enough for him to feel it even through his clothing. He was glad there was nothing important in his pants pockets.
"Come on," Natasha urged, once again guiding Tony's hand onto her arm and pulling him forward, against the current. "There's a step coming," she informed him before he felt her body move upwards. It wasn't much, but his shoe collided against the edge and he slowly stepped at least ten inches up to higher ground.
Their movements started echoing, suggesting they were entering an enclosed space. There were smells, too, damp and wet, which Tony didn't particularly like, but Natasha kept moving forward and he followed, the feeling of claustrophobia increasing as they went on. They didn't get far before the air started to smell far from fresh. There wasn't as much water, which made walking easier, and the current was almost lazy. The steady sound of water and their movements were starting to drive Tony insane, but he didn't know the way out, other than the way they had come, and he had no way of knowing if they had passed a juncture or not. He was fairly certain the answer was no, but even if he went back, what would he do? Climb back up the hill, cross the uneven terrain to find the road and then stand there or start running into things.
Following Natasha was the only real option he had.
They walked for what felt like hours until the sounds started changing, the air turned fresher, and Tony felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. Not that he saw a light, which would have been a miracle, but he tried walking faster to make it less like Natasha had to drag him along. They hadn't spoken since entering the tunnel, which was what Tony called it in his head, and he didn't think breaking that silence now would make a difference.
The exit to the outside air was unceremonious: Tony almost fell on his face when Natasha failed to tell him of the sudden drop into deeper water, and Natasha grunted as Tony's weight landed on her, close to taking them both down. She stayed on her feet, though – and didn't comment on it either, so she must have realized her error.
Natasha pulled them out of the water to even, partly dry partly muddy ground, and Tony started feeling cold for the first time. "Can you stay here for a moment?" she asked. "I need to see what we're up against."
"Up against?" Tony asked, trying to listen in order to find out if they weren't alone.
"Figure of speech," she corrected him. "There's a piece of pipe at your seven o'clock. Can you hide inside it?"
Tony moved slowly without her lead and found it. His hands felt it out, deciding it was a concrete storm drain pipe, big enough to fit him if he hunched over a bit. They must have come through a tunnel made from pieces much like this. "It will do," Tony mused, then turned in the direction he thought he had heard Natasha last. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"Scouting," she repeated. "I won't be long. Stay put, be quiet."
Tony frowned then got inside the pipe, curling up to feel a bit warmer and waited.
As she had promised, Natasha didn't take long. When she returned, though, Tony could tell that she wasn't happy. "I spotted a couple Drones. I either need to take them out or they need to leave before we can move." Which was her way of saying that Tony was too slow and clumsy to keep up with her.
"Or we could just hang here," Tony offered. "The pipe's kind of cozy."
She chuckled, then cut off the sound and grew silent. Somewhere above, far away, a sound of something flying by reached Tony's ears. Maybe it was one of the Drones; it was hard to tell, what with the echoes and the steady sound of running water nearby.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," Natasha spoke up, voice hushed. "Stay here. You're completely out of sight the way you are."
"But –"
"We'll come for you," she promised, and then she was gone.
Tony had never felt so alone. He sat in the pipe, holding his breath in long intervals before he absolutely had to breathe, trying to hear everything. The Drone didn't fly by again, or he just didn't hear it. The water kept on flowing, a gust of wind teased the leaves of several trees nearby, and Tony shifted deeper into the pipe, trying to find a place where he couldn't feel a draft. He got colder as minutes and hours trickled by, but eventually Extremis kicked in, banishing the shivers and the chattering teeth he tried to keep from making a sound. He drifted off, slept uneasily, waking up at sounds he may have imagined or actually heard in his sleep.
He tried not to sleep so much after, but as the hours grew longer, his doubts grew with them.
How long had it been? When was Natasha coming back – or the others? How far away was he from the battle?
Tony couldn't hear the sounds of fighting, which was a consolation. Perhaps the battle had ended and the others were coming for him right now. He didn't need to worry.
It must have been close to twelve hours when the need to pee became overwhelming. Tony loathed getting out of the pipe, feeling safe inside it – out of sight – but he wasn't going to urinate inside his safe place, so he eventually risked crawling out, walking a few feet from the pipe and then struggling to open his pants enough to relieve himself.
Nothing moved around him, other than leaves rustling in the wind. The trees weren't right over him but further away, yet Tony didn't dare go look for them; the others were coming for him, and if he strayed too far, they wouldn't find him so easily. Besides, the aliens might still be out there, or Drones at least, and so Tony made his way back to the pipe, sat down, curled into a ball and wished the hours away.
Time passed. He was unable to count it or measure it, having already lost so much time while sleeping and aimlessly thinking of stuff to pass the time. It had been too long, however. He was getting hungry and tired all over again – cold, too – and there were no sounds and no rescue coming for him.
The battle had to have ended, because they hadn't come that far, and new fears began to claw at his mind.
What if the others were dead?
Tony refused to believe it. The Hulk and Thor, for one, were too hard to kill; the aliens had tried and failed in the past. Steve was too stubborn to go down, and Natasha… she had promised to come back – that they would come back. It wasn't like her to break promises… only it was. Tony had just forgotten about it, about the life she had led until becoming an Avenger. She had survived things worse than the apocalypse – or so she would say – and she would keep on surviving.
Leaving Tony behind was probably a calculated move. She hadn't even left him any food, or clothes, although they had both been wet from their trek through the pipe.
Being abandoned didn't sit well with Tony. He accepted it, of course, because it had been an eventuality. He was a burden, slowing the others down, making them weak and vulnerable. He hadn't been able to work on whatever may have caused the aliens fear, and there were no guarantees Rhodey and Steve's theory was a sound one.
Tony wished Natasha would have allowed him to take the bots, at least. That way he would have made it a bit further before their batteries ran out. Hell, he wished for a suit of armor right now, with J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice in his ears, filling the darkness with something other than the darkness itself.
In the hours following his deduction that he had been left to fend for himself and die alone, Tony told himself, several times, to get up and walk away. After each time he found himself still sitting inside the pipe, legs pulled up, small shivers telling him it was too cold to be out here alone. Hours and hours he sat there, envisioning how he would get out, go towards the sound of the trees and then move on – and then eventually collapse and just drift away, parched and too hungry and tired to move. The aliens wouldn't even need to come for him again because his body would just shut down eventually, Extremis or no, giving up.
He tried sleeping, in case that helped him make up his mind about actually leaving. The dreams were worse, filled with the trickle of water, his labored breaths in the dark and the splashes of footsteps echoing on round concrete walls. The trickle and breaths were still there when he woke up, a wind curling inside the pipe.
A few times Tony heard a noise from further away, giving him hope, but the high squeaks that barely fit within his hearing range made shivers run up his spine instead. Rats, he told himself. They've got to be rats.
He hoped they were rats because anything else was just him taunting himself, hanging hope on a dark wall of desperation.
Tony Stark was going to die in a drain pipe or blindly walking around, and that wasn't the end he had envisioned for himself even after he got blinded. Fate was a cruel mistress…
to be continued…