The most compatible sentinels and guides come online in the same moment, so when Eddie comes online as a sentinel while on a rescue mission in Afghanistan, the only surprise bigger than the identity of the guide he's helping rescue is that the guide – Tony Stark – isn't his guide.
TIMELINE/CONTINUITY: I've brought the events of IRON MAN forward to be mostly contemporaneous with 9-1-1's established timeline, but overall timeline and canon are at my discretion. This is AU, after all. Oh, and things happen differently here than in canon. You have been warned.
As always, all rights in this work are hereby given to the respective copyright owners of Iron Man and 9-1-1.
May 8, 2015
Sergeant Eddie Diaz normally found the whirring whumpwhumpwhump of a helicopter's rotors comforting, the steady rhythm a background noise that he could easily focus past.
Today, though, the sound seemed louder than usual, and the tension of the four soldiers around him in the Sikorsky Black Hawk, not to mention the anxiety practically radiating from the Air Force colonel who had called in more favors than Eddie would likely ever collect in order to authorize this mission, made focusing past anything difficult.
In fairness to them, though, this mission carried more emotional weight than most. This mission's objective was to locate and, if possible, retrieve Tony Stark from the terrorist organization that had kidnapped him three months ago. It was the final mission that would be authorized, and Eddie refused to contemplate what condition Stark might be in if they succeeded.
Not for the first time, he wished his sentinel gifts had manifested, so that they'd have a better chance at finding Stark.
As it was, there were no online Protectors - sentinels or guides - on this mission. Apparently, the colonel's favors only extended so far.
Still, Eddie scanned the endless sea of sand beneath them, just as the other soldiers - and one flyboy - did. The more eyes involved in the search, the greater the chance that they could find Stark.
Twice nothing is still nothing.
The line from an episode of the original Star Trek TV series whispered through his mind, and he shoved it away as forcefully as he could-
-only to gasp as a wave of psionic energy washed over him-
-and then scream as his senses overloaded-
-the roaring of the helo blades-
-the near-blinding Afghan sun streaming through the windscreen-
-conflicting scents of spicy aftershave, sweat, and the lingering odors of breakfast-
"Diaz!" Bender's voice sounded like a shout, and Eddie instinctively shifted away from him.
His eyes closed against both the psionic wave and the sunlight, blocking out distraction as he tried to center and shield himself against the onslaught…
…which was gone almost as quickly as it happened, and in its wake, Eddie's perceptions returned to normal and beyond that, he felt a strong sense of Guide.
He toggled his radio, staring at the back of the pilot's helmet as though that would make the communication clearer. "Sir - a guide has just come online in distress."
The Air Force colonel - Rhodes - in the shotgun seat twisted to stare at him. "You're online?"
"Just now, sir," Eddie answered, and the Colonel's eyes widened in surprise. Eddie understood, because he felt much the same.
Sentinels and guides in reasonably close proximity to each other came online in the same instant, which meant that the newly-online guide was probably Eddie's. Assuming he found them.
"You okay, Diaz?" Bender asked from the seat beside Eddie, where he'd twisted to try to reach him. Thankfully Bender's voice was back to its normal volume.
Eddie nodded tightly. Bender nodded acknowledgment and sat back normally in his seat.
"Colonel," Lieutenant Hawke, the pilot and mission commander, said. "Per the Protectorate Protocols, we must divert to assist if possible."
The colonel nodded. "Absolutely right, Lieutenant. Which way, Sergeant - Diaz, is it?"
"Yes, sir, and ten o'clock."
The Black Hawk banked north-northeast, and it took a few minutes before Eddie could further refine the direction the psionic wave had come from - the direction where the guide - his guide? - was. The lieutenant followed his instructions without complaint.
"There!" Corporal Vogel called out. "It looks like…wreckage of some sort?"
"Diaz?" Hawke asked.
Eddie focused on the wreckage which, at least, wasn't smoking. "Yes, sir. But nothing I recognize."
Hawke brought the helo closer to the desert floor, sand blowing to either side like the wake from a boat, and Eddie sat forward, straining with sentinel eyes to get a better look at the wreckage.
Something glinted in the harsh afternoon sun. Eddie blinked and looked again. Yes, he was right.
The wreckage moved. Eddie focused on it, stretching his senses in the way his abuela had taught him. The wreckage moved again, and this time he could make out a hand as it flung away part of the debris.
"There's someone alive down there!" Eddie called.
"That our guide, Diaz?" Hawke asked.
Eddie took a moment to touch his connection to the psionic plane, confirming his physical impressions. "Yes, sir."
As the helo banked again, making a slow circle around the wreckage - of what, Eddie couldn't hazard a guess - Eddie swallowed back the instructions he shouldn't have to give. If he did have to - if Hawke, Rhodes, and the others failed to follow procedure - he figured it would be the end of his career.
Finally, Hawke brought the Black Hawk down, and Eddie hung back, waiting while the rest of the crew established a perimeter. Not that anyone approaching wouldn't be clearly visible against the barren horizon, but procedure was procedure.
When Vogel's "Clear!" echoed through his headset, Eddie slipped from his seat and hurried toward the wreckage as quickly as the shifting sand allowed, his medical pack heavy against his back.
The guide - a man, based on the musculature of the bare arm Eddie could just make out - was partly encased in metal that matched the wreckage around him, and when Eddie landed on his knees beside the guide, he was surprised to see that the guide was not, in fact, the pulpy mess that the impact crater around him suggested he should be.
As if to prove that, the guide reached for the helmet that concealed his face.
"No," Eddie snapped, and the other man stilled. Eddie let his psionic shields thin as the guide reached out empathically.
"Sentinel?" The metal helmet muffled the word.
"Sergeant Eddie Diaz," Eddie said, then grimaced and corrected himself. "Sentinel Sergeant Eddie Diaz. Will you let me help you, guide?"
The guide - could it possibly be Tony Stark? - was quiet for a moment. Then, "Please."
Eddie pulled off his helmet and checked the man - the guide - for spinal injuries before he removed the helmet and confirmed that the guide was in fact Tony Stark-
-whose face was contorted in pain. While he was certainly in physical pain, Eddie felt certain that in this moment, Stark's greater pain was psionic, and in this moment, Eddie was the only one who could possibly alleviate that.
Reaching for him psionically as well as physically, Eddie cupped Stark's face between his palms, and, a heartbeat later, they were both on the psionic plane.
"You can't stay here," Eddie told the other man.
"It doesn't hurt here," Stark countered.
Eddie couldn't argue that point, so he didn't. "Yeah, maybe. But look around." He spread his arms wide, encompassing the flat, blue-tinged desert-like environment surrounding them.
Stark did as asked, turning a full, slow circle. When he faced Eddie again, his expression had shifted to confusion. "This is it? This is the psionic plane?"
Eddie nodded. "Not a lot to do here, is there? You'll be bored in an hour. Worse? You are currently in psionic shock, and physical shock isn't far behind. If you don't go back…"
"I'll have escaped a cave to die in a desert." Stark grimaced. "Not that great an improvement." He blew out a breath. "Okay. Can you get me back?"
"Probably not, since you brought us here."
Stark blinked. "I did?"
Eddie gestured to himself. "Sentinel. I can access the plane, but it usually takes a lot of meditation. All I meant to do was stabilize your psionic senses, and then I was here."
"Huh." Stark looked thoughtful for a moment before frowning again as he regarded Eddie. Eddie stayed still under the other man's gaze, studying him in turn.
A gray wolf shimmered into view beside Eddie, and he blinked at this first sight of his spirit animal, even as a raven swooped over Stark's shoulder to land in front of the wolf.
The two spirit animals had a…well, the only word that fit was standoff. They studied each other like two gunfighters out of the Old West and, after a moment, the wolf growled and the raven flew up and away with a long, echoing caw.
Stark frowned. "We're not psionically compatible."
"Not remotely." Which meant Tony Stark was not actually his guide. Eddie wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.
"Shame." Stark leered at him. "You're hot like fire."
"We're in a desert, Mr. Stark," Eddie said dryly. "Everyone's hot."
"Not at all what I meant, but fine. So, how do we get back to the physical plane?"
Eddie talked him through the process of feeling for and anchoring in his body. "Then it's just a matter of will."
Stark frowned again. "What about you? If I brought you here, do I have to send you back?"
"Any other sentinel, maybe. But my abuela's a powerful guide and she taught me a lot. I've got this."
"You'd better."
Stark's psionic body disappeared. Eddie waited a moment to be sure he wasn't coming back, then anchored himself in his body-
-and blinked against the harsh desert sun.
When his vision adjusted, he saw that Stark regarded him evenly. A moment's concentration told him that Stark's psionic senses hadn't fully stabilized, but were under enough control that Eddie could start to work on his physical injuries.
When he dropped his hands from Stark's face and started checking Stark's extremities, the men around them relaxed.
"So much for the fun-vee," Rhodes said from where stood nearby - close to his friend, but not close enough to impede Eddie's work. "Next time you ride with me."
Stark replied with a thumb's up before focusing on Eddie.
"Nothing's broken," Stark said.
"Which one of us is the medic?" Eddie asked, oddly amused, even as he applied a cervical collar. Stark didn't appear to have a spinal injury, but Eddie would be as conservative and cautious in his treatment as he could be.
Tony Stark, inventor and philanthropist, was already an international icon. Guide Tony Stark…well. Eddie looked forward to seeing what he became.
Stark glared at him, briefly, but let his head fall back against the cervical collar. Then he winced. "Everyone's loud."
"What?" Rhodes asked. "Nobody's talking except the two of you."
"He means emotionally," Eddie said. "Not surprising - we're all on high alert."
"What do you suggest, sentinel?"
Eddie looked around for something that would distract the others. In this barren sea of sand, there was only one option. "Have everyone start collecting the debris."
Rhodes gave the order, and Eddie returned his attention to his patient.
"Whatever this suit is," Eddie said as he searched for a seam or other joining under Stark's arm, "it seems to have kept you in one piece."
"Not bad for being built from junkyard scraps," Stark muttered as Eddie finally found the release for the armor and lifted the chest piece off of Stark's body - and froze.
The power pack he thought had been built into the armor was in fact embedded in Stark's chest. Just the sight of it made his senses twitchy, and he fought to stay focused on the patient before him.
"Dios mio."
He must not have kept his horror from his expression any more than he'd kept it from his tone, because Stark chuckled weakly. "Yeah - field surgery at its worst."
Eddie gave himself a mental shake. "Well, let's get the rest of the armor off and see what we've got to work with."
*BREAK*
Stark turned out to be relatively unharmed. Oh, he had bumps and bruises, plus a couple of cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder - thanks to his crash landing, no doubt - plus whatever had happened that resulted in a power pack being implanted in his chest.
That last was way above Eddie's pay grade, and he was grateful to get Stark to a sense-shielded room and hand Stark over to the doctors on duty at FOB Patton before returning to his normal duties, or maybe the sensory exam he'd have to take thanks to his coming online.
Except Stark didn't want to let him go, catching his hand as Eddie bid him goodbye. Eddie let himself be stopped, though it would be the work of nothing to break Stark's grip, even before his onlining and newly-enhanced strength.
Oddly, Stark looked like he didn't know what to say. Finally, he settled on, "Sentinel."
Eddie smiled briefly. "Guide."
Stark sighed. "But not my sentinel."
"And not my guide," Eddie murmured, though everyone around them certainly thought that was the case.
"I thought sentinels came online with their guides. So how come we're not a match?"
"Not always," Eddie said easily. "Though I'm pretty sure that your onlining triggered mine because we were in close proximity."
"Hmf." Stark settled back against his pillow. "I hope my actual sentinel is at least as hot as you are. I deserve a hot sentinel."
Eddie wasn't sure about that, but he chuckled and tapped the bed railing. "Take care of yourself, yeah? Don't let all my hard work be for nothing."
"You have paper and a pen?"
Eddie blinked. "No, but I have my phone."
He pulled his phone from his pocket, offered it to Stark. Stark shook his head. "Take my number."
Eddie shook his head. "I-"
Stark held his gaze steadily. "You saved my life, sergeant. Sentinel."
Eddie didn't even try to stop his eyebrow from lifting. Then again, Stark seemed like the kind to appreciate sarcasm. "Pretty sure you did that yourself, Guide Stark."
"No, I got me out of a cave," Stark said. "But I would've died without you. Psionic shock, remember? Not to mention eventual dehydration. So, take my number. You ever need anything - anytime, anywhere - you call me."
Eddie blew out a breath. "Mr. Stark-"
"Take the card, sentinel. And promise you'll call if you need to."
Eddie winced. Stark had been online less than ten hours and he already - instinctively? - knew how to put empathic emphasis on his words. What would he be like once he got some actual training?
Eddie decided then and there that he never wanted to be on the receiving end of a fully trained, pissed-off Tony Stark, so he created a new contact and entered the number Stark gave him.
Then he met Stark's gaze and offered a respectful nod. "Guide."
Stark regarded him gravely, and Eddie was sure Stark was, perhaps unconsciously, doing an empathic scan - possibly even marking Eddie as part of his pride. But all Stark said was, "Tony."
"Eddie." Eddie quirked a grin and left.
Colonel Rhodes was pacing outside the sensory deprivation room, but he paused when Eddie approached. "How is he?"
"Better than he has any right to be."
"Sergeant - I know I'm not in your chain of command," Rhodes began. "But I'm asking you not to tell anyone he came online."
"I'm bound by HIPPA laws and my oath of service," Eddie reminded him. "Besides, it's not my place to tell anyone, or even to talk about it with those who already know."
Rhodes nodded. "Thanks. You heading back out?"
Eddie's lips twitched. "We all have jobs to do, sir. This is mine."