A/N: Okay, so, a few things to note:

1) I don't know the nomenclature for writing sign language, but I used single quotes wrapped around italics for it. No quotes, but italics are thoughts. Double quotes, no italics are spoken words. Confused yet? ;-) Hopefully, it makes sense when you read it.

2) I realize I've kind of diverged from Steve and his problems. That'll come back in the next chapter or two.

3) Thanks again for all the reviews and follows and whatnot - that's pretty cool and very motivating! Working on the next chapter, so hopefully that'll be up tomorrow or Friday (it's Wednesday today, right? Week's going by too fast). Anyway, hope this lives up to your guys' standards and expectations!

Disclaimer: Still just using them for absolutely no monetary value and they still don't belong to me. Damn...

A week had passed since he woke up. Tony was still recovering, but was being released from the Helicarrier to recoup at the Tower. He had had the worst of the lacerations on his back stitched up, his hand was in an external fixation, and his ear was still stuffed with cotton to prevent further tearing of his eardrum. Though he was exhausted, he was looking forward to getting off the 'carrier and spending some time with his bots.

Tony had spent the week he was (mostly) awake with Clint. With his new circumstances - he refused to call it a disability - he needed to adapt, to look forward, to be the futurist he always touted to be.

Clint had dropped by later that first day - when Tony found out he could no longer speak - and had convinced Pepper to get some food, rest, shower, whatever and sat with Tony alone. It was then that he had confessed to Tony that he was about 80% deaf. He knew a little of what Tony was going through - The denial. The pain. The adapting process - and he offered to teach Tony sign language.

At first, Tony refused. He didn't need to learn an entire language - that was overreacting. He was going to be fine and, once Bruce identified the chemicals that had done this to him, they were going to find a way to return his voice.

By the end of the day - after having to write everything down to communicate and gesturing with his uninjured hand anyway - Tony relented and asked Clint to teach him.

He found that Clint was a good and patient teacher. He also learned that Natasha also knew how to sign - which he figured was because they had worked together so long - and that he was a quick study, his hand rapidly picking up the movements. It was a little weird having to learn to read proper sign language with two hands and then modify it to utilize only one, but it wasn't nearly as hard as not being able to communicate efficiently at all.

In the end, everyone had sat in on Clint's lessons so they could understand Tony (and Clint, should the need arise). Bruce learned just about as quickly as Tony - big surprise! - but the others struggled. Apparently, normal people don't pick up languages in just one week? Weird.

So now he was going home and his hand could start working its magic on what he really loved to do - well, at least for an hour or so a day and with Bruce's supervision. It was like they thought he was a child, but after the scare they'd all received, he figured it would be best to do as they said... for now.

The ride to the Tower left him drained and in more pain that he was willing to admit. He managed to make it to his bedroom and slide slowly and carefully into bed without ripping stitches or jarring his ribs - he wasn't sure which one, at this point, hurt more - a silent sigh escaping his lips, and he was out before he knew it.

While Tony convalesced, Pepper tried to contain the media storm. It had been nearly three weeks since Tony had been seen in public - the now viral explosion video being the last time - and both the Board of Directors and the general public were in an uproar. Reassurances only went so far when the man himself couldn't be seen. Pepper had purposely kept the information from Tony, but now that he was back home and had access to technology, she doubted he would remain oblivious for long.

She sighed as she considered her options. She could either admit that Tony had been injured more seriously than had previously been reported - which Tony would abhor! - or she could gussy him up and call a press conference. Neither option was particularly ideal. She didn't want to parade Tony in front of the media in his condition, but stocks kept dipping as people speculated that the brain behind Stark Industries was dead or nearly so. She didn't want to think how right the latter had been.

Additionally, she was trying to prepare for the annual Stark Gala that was being held in three days. For some strange reason, Tony had convinced her and the Board a couple months ago that he would tackle the gala details and make it the best gala SI had ever had.

So now she was doing it.

And she couldn't dish it off to someone else without adding fuel to the media fire.

She rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the impeding headache.

At least Bruce was on Tony-duty while she tried to deal with all of this.

Rehab sucked. Whoever thought that causing one's body to bend and stretch and move and cause additional pain to an already abused skeleton was almost as sadistic as the men who put him in this spot in the first place.

But Tony did it because the alternative was worse. And he was getting stronger. And staying awake longer. And getting more bot-time because of it. So he willingly went.

It also helped that he was now determined to go to the Stark Gala in two days. Everyone was against it and had tried talking him out of it, but once he gotten word from JARVIS how stocks had dipped and that rumors were circulating of his death, he figured showing face would be the best way to alleviate the pressure on Pepper's shoulders.

For her, he doubled his rehab efforts. Worked on some new gadgets so he could appear as Stark-normal as possible. Aided Bruce in finding a cure for his vocal inabilities. Whatever he could do to lessen her load, he'd do it.

"Tony, I think I've found something." Tony looked up at his Science Bro, hope springing unbidden to his eyes.

Tony's right hand waved side-to-side, palm facing upwards. 'What?'

"I don't think it's a cure, but it might be a temporary solution." Tony listened as Bruce explained his theory. They had discovered that whatever the drug was that Tony had received, it caused his vocal cords to be unable to come together and vibrate as air went by, the vibrations actually the cause for sound and speech. All of the compounds they had tried until now did nothing to stimulate the cords. Bruce's discovery, though, in theory, would allow Tony at least a modicum of speech - allowing for a couple hours max - but it was enough time to make a showing at the Gala and reassure the world of his continued existence. "It'll be painful and it's not a permanent solution, Tony."

'I know, but it's a start,' Tony excitedly signed back. 'Let's try it. Gimme!'

"Tony, we should do more testing first."

'We don't have time, Bruce. Let's give it a whirl and cut the time needed to modify it for the Gala.'

"Tony, I really don't think..."

'It's fine, Bruce. I trust you.'

"The compound does seem like a viable option, Doctor Banner," JARVIS un-helpfully added against Bruce's case. Tony smirked at the point in his favor.

Begrudgingly, Bruce manufactured enough of the compound to get a sufficient dose. Injecting the contents straight into Tony's throat, both men winced as the liquid was pushed through the plastic container, down the thick needle, and into Tony's vocal cords.

The pain was intense and Tony found himself on his knees, gripping his neck, Bruce at his side. Tony didn't have time to focus on the man's words as the tiny black dots that had started to invade his vision expanded and dragged him into unconsciousness.