"Congratulations, you're being upgraded," Rachel said cheerily as she arrived.
Tony was still picking at his morning oatmeal with a grimace. "I hope that means an improvement in the menu," he said sourly.
She ignored his commentary on the food. "You'll be moved to a private room today."
"That's good news," Rhodey said.
"When do I get to leave entirely?" Tony inquired, jamming his spoon into his bowl and shoving it away.
"If I had to guess, I'd say it's whenever you can manage to handle your own bathroom duties and walk a decent distance down the hallway. Zack is the one you'd want to ask about that," Rachel said as she prepped the nebulizer.
"So it's just the physical therapist that's keeping me here?" Tony asked dubiously.
"Not exactly. You've got a little while yet on the heavy duty IV antibiotics, then they'll want at least one more chest x-ray before letting you leave. My say-so also keeps you here for right now, but that won't need to be the case for much longer."
"He'll be off the oxygen soon?" Rhodey sounded surprised.
Rachel glanced at him. "No, he'll more than likely still be using oxygen when he leaves."
"I don't like the sound of that," Tony said with a frown.
"Too bad," Rachel replied instantly. "You don't get a say." She tossed the nebulizer mask onto his lap. "Now shut up and breathe."
.
Later that morning, Barton and Rhodey were packing up everything that had migrated into Tony's room and piling it on Rhodey's wheelchair. Tony watched them silently for a while, then commented, "I don't think you brought enough stuff when you moved in."
"When you've been here as long as we have, it piles up," Rhodey said with some exasperation.
"Especially when the coffee sucks," Barton added as he left the room to empty the electric kettle in the bathroom sink. When he returned, he was leading a parade of people: Rachel, Nikki, and two orderly-types Tony didn't recognize, with Rogers bringing up the rear.
"Look who finally remembered how to get here," Tony teased half-heartedly.
"I got lost on the way," Rogers said deadpan. "It took Sam a week to find me."
"You should have taken some flares," Barton replied with mock earnestness. "The entire county would've found you."
"Here," Rachel said, dropping a hospital mask onto Tony's lap. "Just in case."
"You've got to be kidding me," he said, picking it up with a frown of distaste.
"Like I said, just in case. We've tried to pick a route that won't pass many people, but you never know what might be lingering in the air. Also, it's less likely you'll be recognized that way."
"I'd rather not go viral today," he agreed, reluctantly putting the mask on over his little nose tube.
"We're ready when you are," she said. Tony had been disconnected from anything that couldn't travel with him while they had been talking.
"Wheels up, let's rock and roll," Tony said confidently to hide the flash of uneasiness that shot through him as his bed began to move.
Rachel and Barton led the way, then the two orderlies managed the bed, followed by Rhodey pushing his wheelchair loaded with the stuff, and Rogers again brought up the rear. Tony felt faintly ridiculous with his entourage (and did Rachel really think people would recognize him and not Rogers?), but they passed very few people in the hallways and those people didn't seem to pay any attention.
He completely lost track of where they were; all he could say for certain was that they were no longer on the same floor of the building-the elevator had been a bit of a tight fit with everyone piled in. He felt very exposed and, as he was pushed into the new room, he realized the source of his anxiety.
"Is it safe?" he blurted. It hadn't been something he'd ever considered in the ICU, but that room also didn't have outside windows. This one did, along with actual furniture that could be used to hide behind or as weapons.
"Yes, boss," Friday's voice answered from a small speaker on the rolling table beside the open spot for the bed. "Colonel Rhodes and Captain Rogers have secured the room and added it to my monitoring routine."
"Friday," he said, a little bewildered by her voice being in the hospital room. "It's been a while."
"Twenty-two days," she agreed.
He didn't have a response to that, so he turned his attention to the activity around him. The two orderlies had left and were replaced with a nurse who was conferring quietly with Rachel as they checked over his machines. Rhodey and Barton were unloading the stuff from the wheelchair into a corner, while Rogers hovered between the end of the bed and the pathetically small TV against the wall. Seriously, he had computer monitors larger than that.
Tony addressed Rogers. "You sticking around for a while?"
"No," he said. "It snowed this morning, so Cooper wants to have a snowball fight."
"With you or against you?"
"He wants it to be me against everyone else."
That sounded like Cooper, all right. "Did Barton put him up to it?"
"I swear I knew nothing about it," Barton interjected with a grin. "But I'm certainly looking forward to it. I've not nailed Steve with a snowball before."
"Good luck with that," Tony said to Rogers. "I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Perhaps I should stay here instead," Rogers said ruefully.
"Nonsense, you just need to construct the right kind of base."
"You're an expert on snow forts now?" Barton said disbelievingly.
Tony scoffed and coughed a little. "It's a thing that is built. Of course I'm an expert."
"He can even make them blow up," Rhodey added as he sank onto the couch.
"Yes, but I wouldn't dare when there's children involved. Are you going to abandon me to pelt Rogers with snowballs, too?"
Rhodey snorted. "You know my opinion of snow. There's a reason I enjoyed being posted in southern California, and it had nothing to do with you."
"I'm hurt," Tony said with a dramatic sniff that wasn't quite as effective with the nose tube in the way. It felt good to joke around again. He hadn't felt up to it in too long, and even now he wasn't going to be able to keep it up much longer. His lack of energy was ridiculous.
Why did it take so long to recover?
.
Starting the day he changed rooms, the physical therapy sessions became longer and harder. That first day started the same way as usual, but rather than end when Tony managed to stand up straight and unaided beside the bed for several minutes, Zack treated it as only the beginning.
He led Tony in shuffling forward-no lifting of the feet, just sliding-until he'd reached the bathroom and ended up in front of the sink. The entire time, Zack insisted that he stand up straighter, support his own weight better rather than leaning his weight on Zack's forearms, and move faster. It was demoralizing to realize he needed that much coaching to do something as basic as walking, and he was grateful only Rhodey was there to witness it. Rhodey understood better than anyone what that felt like.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror didn't help. His hair was a greasy mess, his facial hair was long and scruffy, and even that didn't disguise his pallor or the puffiness of his face from the steroids they were dosing him with. He made a face at himself-god, it was a miracle the kids hadn't screamed in fright-and turned his back on the image as quickly as he could without getting tangled in the IV and everything else. Rhodey helped him sort things out, having followed him with the IV pole.
Returning to the bed was a little less stressful, Zack apparently having decided to go easy on him at that point, but he was definitely tired by the time he got there. Tired but satisfied. He'd done better than he'd expected to and he didn't even cough up a lung.
The next day, Zack brought a folded metal contraption with him and leaned it against the wall while he had Tony go through his warmups. Then he unfolded the thing without comment and set it by the bed. Tony eyed it with disdain. "Like hell I'm using a walker," he said scornfully.
Barton snickered from his perch on the couch.
"It's your choice, Mr. Stark," Zack said. "You're going to repeat that little exercise to and from the bathroom again today. It's up to you whether you use the walker or walk unaided. I will, of course, accompany you either way."
"You can do it, Tony," Rhodey said encouragingly.
Tony wasn't convinced, but there was no way he was going to use that . . . thing. He slowly stood up and took a few small, careful steps toward the bathroom. Normal people could cross the distance in three or four strides; it took him at least twice that many, but he made it without once having to grasp Zack's proffered arms.
When he arrived, he realized he needed to take a leak. Zack encouraged him to sit to do his business, but he refused. He was going to piss standing up as nature intended, even if it meant having to crawl back to the bed.
He avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands.
He made it back to the bed without incident and without having to crawl. Zack dared him to do it again. He really wanted to just sit in bed and feel smug about not using the walker, but then Zack upped the ante. "I'll never bring a walker again if you make that trip once more before I leave."
It was too good to pass up. Tony squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and all but marched to the bathroom and back again, Rhodey still trailing behind to mind the IV pole.
Zack was grinning as he refolded the walker. "At this rate you'll be out of here in no time," he said cheerfully. "If you would like to try that distance without me here, you're welcome to it as long as you're not alone in the room at the time."
"He's never alone," Rhodey said.
Tony all but collapsed back into bed, too drained to feel smug anymore.
.
Despite his success and the permission from Zack, Tony did not try crossing the distance to the bathroom until Zack forced him to do it again the next day. Twice, followed by a trudge toward the door of the room and back. Tony knew it was for his own good and he could tell that it was getting easier to move around even from one day to another, but he still grumbled about unreasonable expectations.
His grumbling amplified when Zack's suggestion that he walk to the bathroom independently became a demand. "You need to be up and on your feet more often than just when I'm here," Zack said. "Your friends can help, if you need it, and I know they'll keep you honest."
"I already know where I'm going to hide the bedpan so he has to get up," Barton volunteered.
"That's rude. And also disgusting," Tony said.
But he did it, and it really wasn't so bad once he learned how long it took to make his equipment mobile. He even got to the point that it wasn't his muscles that slowed him down, it was his breathing and the way he'd start coughing up a lung if he inhaled too rapidly or frequently.
Rachel still somehow thought he was improving. And perhaps he was, he just wasn't doing it fast enough to be satisfied. He was staying awake more, that much was true. Rhodey and the others had brought his phone and a few other things so he could occupy himself as needed, but he found he couldn't really focus.
Having Friday around helped a little; he could tell her to do things and let his mind wander while she made it happen, especially when it came to cleaning out all of the messages that had been piling up in his absence. Anything that required more concentration, however, remained out of the question. He talked to Pepper on the phone every few days, which didn't require much from him but was still exhausting, and talking too much made him cough.
He usually managed to keep Zack happy with his progress, which all too soon meant shuffling around in the hallway as well as his room. Rhodey would come with him, most of the time, though occasionally Barton opted to take the stroll instead.
Tony didn't know what to make of the fact that Barton continued to hang around. The visits from other members of the team had, predictably, dropped sharply as the days multiplied, until only a few were still showing up sporadically with a visitor every other day at most. But Laura had good reasons to bring Lila only a couple of times, and it was something of a wonder that Natasha and Sam appeared at all-it almost made him suspicious that they were up to something or were trying to make up for something he didn't know about yet.
Then that question became irrelevant: he was being released from the hospital. Rachel would come and stay at the compound until he didn't need the oxygen anymore but after that, they'd be on their own.
Rogers and Wilson came to help cart the stuff out to the car. Rhodey offered up his wheelchair for Tony's use; Barton pushed it and only once joked about dumping him down a stairwell.
Tony hated the idea of leaving in a wheelchair but didn't resist since he had no idea how far it was to the car. He'd only ever managed two rounds of the hallway before having to stop for a breathing break.
His first breath of outside air in forty-five days was sharp and cold and tinged with the smell of car exhaust and he only just managed not to cough.