Written for the following AvengersKink prompt:
"Tony betrayed, Team Angst, Attempted suicide - A while back I read a fic for another fandom in which the main character is imprisoned for his own safety.
So what I want is: A telepathic villain makes threats against the Avengers, specifically Tony. SHIELD and the Avengers decide that Tony is safer not knowing about the threat, because he'd go off on his own and try to fight the villain. SHIELD comes up with the idea to place Tony into a room with protected walls against telepathic attacks, essentially isolation. SHIELD agents do a in-the-middle-of-the-night kidnap thing and Tony doesn't know why this is happening to him. The rest of the Avengers are reluctant but ultimately agree. It won't be anything like Afghanistan, Tony will be getting three meals a day and no one will be hurting him. He'll be fine right?
Tony needs interaction, he needs to ramble and to tinker and to create. He's not only isolated, he doesn't know why he's there and he thinks his team is going to come and get him. But they never show and he starts losing it. So, the only logical thing to do is to hurt himself, so he can get some medical attention, and if he happens to die in the attempt, well, that works too.
He's elated to see the Avengers in the hospital. Until he discovers that they knew. What happens next? Does Tony ever forgive them?
Lots of angst and guilt, happy ending is OPTIONAL!"
Time is very fluid in this story, with multiple flashbacks, time skips, half-truths and skewed perspectives.
Main title and chapter titles come from John Casteen's chilling poem "Night Hunting"
When they finally catch up to him, surrounding him, the telepath just stops and raises his hands. It's been weeks of chasing, of following false leads.
The man gives them a manic smile, grinning eyes roving over the group.
"Ah. Now where would Tony Stark be?"
Thor steps forward menacingly, powerful hand trembling with repressed rage making Mjolnir hum.
Steve beats him to it, feeling no remorse in the wild joy that bursts in his chest when his gloved fist connects with the man's head, knocking him out.
"Relax, Captain. Stark will be processed out in a few hours. He has to get through a physical and a psych. eval, and then he's out."
"That might actually take a few hours," Clint throws out with a smile, glancing briefly at Fury "Tony hates doctors and shrinks."
"We should prepare the Tower for his return, perhaps request the delivery of his favorite foods. Sir JARVIS will return with his creator's homecoming surely," Thor adds, addressing the fact that JARVIS has been silent since Tony had been placed into containment.
They all agree to the idea, and Thor is pleased, even adding that a grand party should be thrown in honor of Tony's return as well as their own accomplishment in capturing the threat to their team.
Tony will be furious. He might not talk to them for weeks and lock himself in his workshop.
Steve doesn't think of an alternative, doesn't see how things might not be fixed, given time and patience and truth.
They get the call around an hour after they arrive at the Tower. It's kind of a funny thing because they're all sitting in the common room, relaxing after days and days of hard work, anxious about Tony's impending return, talking about how they might give the genius time to acclimate to what happened, deal with the anger that is sure to follow.
Their phones beep at the same time, messages flashing that Tony has been flown to SHIELD's ICU and is getting prepped for emergency surgery.
It's Steve who gets an actual call, struggling to hear over the roaring panic in his ears, his team's confused and worried glances on him.
Fury's voice is level, calm and collected but for the slight waver in his usual careless cadence.
"Stark's...Tony, Tony's been moved to the SHIELD ICU closest to the containment center. Coulson is on his way to the Tower with the Quinjet."
"What happened?"
"Look, it's being investigated and it's better to discuss this in person-"
"What happened to Tony."
Not a question but a demand and Fury pauses.
Takes a long breath.
"He tried to commit suicide."
Fury doesn't try to sugarcoat the situation. He explains what happened almost impassively and Steve envies him, envies his control because he feels like he's bursting at the seams.
The doctor is similarly calm, immediately earning Steve's admiration because the man, the civilian is standing there, delivering horrible news to a waiting room full of superheroes and he only stutters twice.
The words seem to rush over him, crashing against his brain and tumbling about inside his skull.
Horrible, terrible words like intracranial hemorrhaging and pressure, critical surgery and induced coma, skull fracture and a brief cardiac arrest and possible permanent damage.
Steve drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes as Pepper breaks into sobs and Thor mutely prays to his father and Bruce leaves the room as Natasha finally drops herself onto a chair, Clint next to her.
When the doctor takes them to the x-ray viewing room, and the technical words are paired with actual visuals, they better learn just how bad things are. On the MRI they can clearly see the white lumps amongst the shadows of Tony's grey matter, indicating bleeding. There is a small tree branch shaped crack along Tony's skull.
And then there is an x-ray of Tony's chest, taken because Tony had been sick and because SHIELD, for all its efforts, had never managed to attain anything resembling an inside look at the arc reactor and its place in Tony's body. The circle, showing up as a muted halo, is larger than the rounded blue they've seen on Tony's chest. It covers nearly all of his sternum from view. There are thin filaments that show up as bright lines that attach and curl around Tony's ribs but it is clear that the reactor is set in such a way that its main support is the sternum.
Steve cannot believe that they haven't seen this before because one wrong blow, one hard crash and-
He pushes the thoughts away, glances at Natasha and catches sight of the doctor approaching, multiple files in his hands.
"Director Fury advised me to keep you in the loop."
And then he's gone and they all settle in and begin to read.
Patient Medical File
Presiding Doctor: Collins, Michael
Presiding Surgeon: Anpoor, Kurt
Consults: Patron, Mikhail; Servova, Maria; Ramirez, Marcus
Patient: Stark, Anthony E.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Consultant: Coulson, Philip
Emergency Contacts: Potts, Virginia; Rogers, Steven; Barton, Clint
Mr. Stark was flown into the South Dakota S.H.I.E.L.D. Intensive Care Unit at 19:25:06 and immediately prepared for neurosurgery. He presented with severe head trauma and was given a 6 TBI severity score after demonstrating consistent difficulty in motor, verbal and eye-opening reactions to stimuli. Loss of consciousness occurred intermittently during transport, culminating in a complete loss of consciousness shortly after arrival. X-rays revealed a minimal hairline fracture of the anterior skull, a misleading finding in light of the neuroimaging results, which revealed swelling and focal, intra-axial lesions, particularly in the temporal lobes.
Mr. Stark was subsequently diagnosed with a subdural hematoma and prepared for emergency neurosurgery. The blood that gathered within the outermost meningeal layer, between the dura and arachnoid mates caused an alarming increase in intracranial pressure. The size and rate of growth was such that consultations indicated craniotomy as the best form of treatment. Mr. Stark underwent the operation at 21:30:07. Dr. Anpoor was successful in the identification and control of bleeding sites, and repairment of the injured vessels as well as the removal of the blood clot with a delicate irrigation procedure.
A complication in the form of cardiac arrhythmias arose around 25:45:15 and Mr. Stark coded shortly thereafter. Mr. Stark was resuscitated at 28:49:03.
Endotracheal intubation and mechanical ventilation are being used to ensure proper oxygen supply and a secure airway. Intravenous fluids are being given to maintain normal blood pressure as well as infusions of norepinephrine to maintain cerebral perfusion.
Mr. Stark's unique physiological conditions make his prognosis and future recovery challenging. Mr. Stark's Arc Reactor (ref. 41b.e) represents a high possibility of future complications and stands in the way of adequate stabilization of his condition. The Arc Reactor's significant immunosuppressive side-effects as well as Mr. Stark's past encounter with heavy metal (palladium) poisoning (ref. 55b.f),in addition to the severity of the head trauma, in this panel's opinion, greatly reduce not only his chances for survival, but also of making a full recovery. Permanent damage is not only likely, but almost guaranteed.
"You're going to get throughout this Stark. I don't know what the hell possessed you to pull such a stupid stunt but you will get through this. Or I will kill you myself. Don't you dare think I won't do it."
Natasha isn't good with the big questions, the emotional speeches and explicit demonstrations of love and care and friendship.
She simply takes a seat next to Tony's bed, settles in and doesn't move. The nurses learn to work around her, the doctor to stop reminding her that Tony is in good hands and her constant, unerring vigilance isn't necessary.
Steve always brings his sketchbook. He's never able to draw anything, the pencil feels wrong in his hands but the texture of the leather bound book feels okay, maybe because it was a gift from Tony for his birthday.
He also brings a book, sometimes short stories, sometimes poems and he reads out loud. Natasha encourages it with one of the most serene looks he's seen upon her face as she closes her eyes and seems to drift along the cadence of his words.
Steve comes every day at the same early time, staying until late.
Natasha jokes that he should pull in a couch as she's done.
Day 1:
Steve offers a good morning to Natasha and takes a seat. He cracks open the thick book to a random page and begins to read.
"Walking through a field with my little brother Seth
I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow.
For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels
Had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground
He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer.
Then we were on the roof of the lake
The ice looked like a photograph of water
Why he asked. Why did he shoot them."
Bruce flips through Tony's chart. It's what he does as soon as he steps into the room, his routine every time he comes to visit. There is improvement, always improvement, but still Tony doesn't wake.
"The uh, the Other Guy misses you you know. He's very sullen these days I guess...Tony, I'm not...I'm not going to run from this okay? I'm going to stay right here but please don't make me wait too long. Hulk isn't a patient guy and he'll get angry. You won't like him when he's angry," Bruce laughs, thinking of how Tony would have loved that last line. He runs the back of his hand across his eyes, feels the warm wetness with detachment as he composes himself before stepping out of the room.
Day 2:
Steve brings coffee this time and has trouble finding a place to set it, what with the bedside tables next to Tony's bed overflowing with get-well wishes and gifts. Little, inane things from normal people who hope their contribution will be counted. He sets it on the floor, taking Natasha's advice.
He flips through the pages, settles randomly again and begins.
"Let me tell you how I stumbled, nineteen and drunk,
across a field to touch one on a dare –
how then, from nowhere and all at once the long arm
of time's elliptical arc swooped in, wrapped me
in its cello-thin line, how I stopped, looked at the cows,
wondered what they must see coming toward them,
what monster upon them now, mad with curiosity
and no doubt a map of what to peel back next,
having already torn open and plexiglassed
their stomachs, would it be their hearts, or would I take
their souls, unto the paper layers of their thoughts,
pull the thread of their breath to unravel the tones of their lowing.
I am telling you how I reached the point I always knew
would come, when I was at once too old and far
too young, how I knew, really knew for the first time,"
Steve pauses, swallows a drink of the coffee, hot and bitter but welcome just the same because he barely slept last night. Again.
"how there's a wildness in us, how that made me sick
but I couldn't go back, so I went toward the only cow
who watched not me but the sun, pink as a newborn,
heaving itself through the trees. I went to her, leaned
my head on her back, the sun growing, the boy
turning, her belly reflecting the last of the stars."
"You're an ass, Stark. I mean like fucking seriously man, what the hell. We were just coming to get you and you just-you're gonna get better yeah? We'll all be right here, Shellhead, so you better get the hell out of your beauty sleep because no one is going anywhere."
Clint trails off, running out of steam, shoulders sagging in the darkness of the room because Natasha is sleeping and there is no one around to see.
He squeezes Tony's unresponsive hand and drapes a blanket over the sleeping assassin by his bedside before departing, disappearing into the shadows.
Day 3:
"You were always a bookworm weren't you?"
Steve smiles at Natasha's comment, pauses momentarily in his flipping of pages.
"Yeah. I was a pretty tiny kid growing up. Asthma was only the beginning. I turned to literature. The book shop owner on 54th had know my family for years. He'd let me borrow tomes without charging me a dime."
Natasha smiles softly at that, nods at him to continue, "Read away, Captain."
"So this is what it's like to have to
practice amiability and learn
to say the orchard looks grand this evening
when one admires instead the lowly
gouge, adze, rasp, hammer-
fire-forged, blunt-syllabled things,
unthought-of until a need exists:
a groove chiseled to a fixed width,
a roof sloped just so. It is now
one knows what it is to envy
the rivet, wrench, vise - whatever
works unburdened by memory and sight,
while high above the damp fields
flocks of swallows roil and dip,
and streams churn, thick with leaping salmon,
and the bee advances on the rose."
Day 4:
"I have often heard you reciting the words of your great writers when I come to visit Tony. You and Lady Widow will not mind my presence?"
Steve just shakes his head and Thor settles into his impossibly tiny visitor's chair and Steve wants to laugh, just a little bit. He passes the book to the demi-god instead and lets him choose.
"2.
The second points the way.
True way. The path crosses the earth,
The moon and some stars.
Watch, he points further.
He points to himself.
3.
The middle one has backache.
Stiff, still unaccustomed to this life:
An old man at birth. It's about something
That he had and lost,
That he looks for within my hand,
The way a dog looks
For fleas
With a sharp tooth."
"Were it not ill-advised, I would have taken you to Asgard. The Healing Room would have been of great benefit," Thor shifts, wondering what else to say. He feels like he has failed.
"Lady Jane and Darcy sends their best wishes…I…it is rare that words fail me, Tony, and I find myself standing here, searching for something that I might say…We have captured the fiend that intended you further harm and I wish that we had been able to accomplish the task sooner. Perhaps then you might not have turned to such dire measures. But fear not, friend Stark, for we are watching over you."
Day 5:
"You should have the doctors take a look at your hands. Or, at least Bruce," Natasha mentions offhandedly, no doubt noticing the now perpetual grazes of red across his knuckles.
"It's fine," he says simply, convincingly, like it really is. Like everything is. Because everything is fine. Just fine.
"I'll read today," she counters, not a question nor a demand and surprising him still as he hands her the book.
"The bud
Stands for all things,
Even for those things that don't flower,
For everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
Though sometimes it is necessary
To reteach a thing its loveliness,
To put a hand on its brow
Of the flower."
Day 6:
"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold
The darkness drops again, but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,"
And Steve is about to keep reading, but Natasha places a hand on his shoulder and he looks up, sees the hope in her expression, unveiled as he turns and looks at the bed and Tony's chocolate eyes meet his.
Reviews are gold!
Notes:Poems in order of appearance:
"Snow" by David Berman
"What I Think of Death, If Anyone's Asking" by Maud Kelly
"Gouge, Adze, Rasp, Hammer" by Chris Forhan
"Bestiary for the Fingers of My Right Hand" by Charles Simic
"St. Francis and the Sow" by Galway Kinnell
"The Second Coming" by W.B. Yeats