Stark Phone + Capsicle = phone that Happy registered prior to the Barnes wedding.
Cap panic + phone tracking = Mount Sinai location.
Mount Sinai + Stark Phone + Unusual call + current FUBAR = nothing good.
The math changed in an instant.
Tony picked up the phone, but before he could say anything a quiet woman's voice said "you're Captain America's girlfriend, you're not allowed to die."
Cap's girlfriend + FUBAR = more data required
"What did you just say?!" But he'd heard her just fine. The line was crisp, the connection from Stark line to Stark line flawless, as always. He didn't need her to repeat herself, he needed more information. "Who is this?" he barked.
"Roberta Draper - who is this?"
Tony rolled his eyes, even though it didn't translate through the phone. It was for his benefit, really. "The only thing standing between you and a Star-Spangled ass-kicking. Hospital or morgue?"
"What?"
He would need to speak slower. Maybe more gently. Normal people would be in shock. "The girlfriend - are they taking her to a hospital or a morgue?"
"H-hospital, Tisch."
CAP's girlfriend + FUBAR + hospital transfer = delay in necessary care
Delay = death
They'd be passing right by Avengers Tower. "Friday, get that bus redirected to the tower, and tell Helen Cho she's on deck. Grab the girlfriend's medical records just in case."
"Yes, Boss. Shall I recall Captain Rogers?"
"Yes," he confirmed, then. "No, wait - I'll call."
Tony hesitated. "Friday… What's her name?"
"Mab Dumont."
Tony's hand hesitated over Cap's logo that would select a private communication channel.
Mab Dumont + critical care + Cap = dangerous distraction
Tony shook his head slightly. No. If nothing else, this was an important lesson for the uptight martyr.
Cap - Dumont = unpredictable behavior
Much more accurate. It would do more damage to leave him in the dark. He selected Falcon's comm channel. "Falcon, confirm the hospital is clear of patients."
"Confirmed, just finished final sweep."
Mostly true. They'd been in the Ambulance Bay area for the last few minutes. That math certainly checked out now.
"Load up and return to the Tower, you and Cap both."
"We can't leave yet, Cap-"
"I said load up; the girlfriend is already headed this way." He clicked off the comm, not bothering to wait for the confirmation.
Cap + Dumont + good medical care = rational behavior
Good math. He liked his odds of providing good care, now he just had to make sure a living corpse wasn't pulling up to his doors. "Friday, get me Dumont's records, and patch me into the ambulance rider's ear while you're at it."
"Done, you're hot now. Paramedic Garner."
"Paramedic Garner, you should have been redirected by now and you're -" Tony checked his monitor, "three minutes out. Read me anything you've got."
The paramedic, to his credit, didn't miss a beat. "Unit 2-7-9, ALS, we've got a thirty year-old female, ETA two minutes. MOI building fire, apparent smoke inhalation and potential oxygen deprivation. Patient was in ICU for CHF and multiple organ failure following acute septic Pneumonia. Intubated and administering 10 LPM, reading 94% after one liter. Patient is unresponsive to verbal commands but responds to pain. BP and HR are stable. Assess for burns. Pulling in now, ICU nurse Roberta Draper from Sinai on board for more details and continuation of care. 279 out."
Dumont + CHF + etcetera + smoke inhalation + Cradle = ?
Cradle + raw materials + JARVIS = Vision
Cradle + breathing Dumont = highly probable survival
Friday had transcribed it all, pulling up the camera feed showing the ambulance pulling up front of the building, like UberEats delivering lunch. Helen Cho and her team were already waiting to accept the transfer, and the collection of patient and tubes was wheeled in the front doors.
"That'll be on the news in about two seconds. Kill it," Tony ordered Friday. He flicked away the monitor, pulling back the location monitor of his team.
"Boss," Friday started, almost as a question.
"Not now." Tony swung his seat around as the Falcon flew past, practically throwing Cap onto the landing pad in a tuck-and-roll maneuver.
He threw off his helmet as he entered the building, soot and ash flaking off onto the clean floors. Oh well.
"Where is she?" Steve asked, panic evident in his voice.
"Porting to medical. Cho's got her headed for a Cradle."
Relief sagged at the larger man's shoulders, and was that a wobble Tony detected in the Soldier's knees? Some girlfriend.
Cap + Dumont = ?
"In case you were wondering," Tony added as an aside, "that's how these sort of things should get handled."
Steve's mouth twitched up in a weak smile. "Thanks, Tony."
Cap + Dumont = stability
"Yeah, take notes." Tony swung his chair back to the monitors. "And change your boots, would you? You're a walking crime scene."
Cap vanished into the background of his attention, fading entirely as he left for either a shower or a change of clothes before going to medical, and Tony was able to return his attention to the giant monster trying to destroy the Upper East Side, starting with Mount Sinai Hospital.
Monster + Destruction + Avengers-level-threat = the Raft
Or at least, he hoped so.
Monster + hidden tracker = data
Not only did they need to subdue and contain the walking, wrecking, Audrey-II-wannabe, he needed the team to hide a tiny computer in the mess of materials.
The location of the Raft wasn't a secret, not to him. He'd toured, not impressed, but that wasn't the data he needed. He needed floor layouts, capacity, utilization ratios, and audio. Lots and lots of audio. Data.
"Boss," Friday said again, more insistent this time. He'd have to fix that with the next A.I.
"Little busy here," he replied dimissively. Fewer boots on the ground meant wrapping up the Big Bad would be a little more challenging. He was pretty sure Wanda could handle it on her own, but didn't need any accidents just as she was starting to get good in the books.
"I'll just leave this here then, shall I?" Friday replied, and a full-size window appeared on top of all his other monitors, blocking his view of Mount Sinai.
Just as he swore in complaint, not understanding why Friday had dumped the Stark Industries and CareStar Acquisition Conflict of Interest Search in his lap when it could clearly wait, he saw what clearly could not wait one more minute.
Tony sank back into his chair. "Shit."
A handful of doctors, nurses, no surprises there. But one driver's license stood out among the rest.
Mab Dumont.
And the math changed again.
Tony heaved a sigh. "Shit." One easy gesture pulled up her freshly ported medical records. Tony skimmed, looking for one line and hoping he wouldn't find it, but knowing he would. Buried near the end - or the beginning of a very long medical history from a very young age - he found it.
5 year old patient presenting with shortness of breath to ER. Referred to Pediatrics. Pediatrics refers Dr. Andrew March. Performed cardiothoracic scan resulting in dx of cardiothoracic defect of unknown etiology.
Mab Dumont + Dr. Andrew March + unknown heart defect
CareStar Cardiothoracic Scanners Report attached. Re-scan for full dx not available due to equipment removal by CareStar.
Mab Dumont + CareStar + Dr March + unknown heart defect = The March Cohort
"Shit," Tony breathed.
Mab Dumont + the March Cohort = more data required
"Is she on the original list of patients from the March Cohort?"
"No, Boss; her name populated from the conflict search just from the diagnostic notes."
It could be a coincidence. She could have a correct diagnosis; the machines weren't 100% inaccurate.
He scrolled through her medical history again, reading slower. Too many names of medications, Friday helpfully listing their purpose as he read, and too many doctors. Her care had changed hands a lot, growing and developing, the best that she'd probably managed to afford.
But the math was wrong.
Mab Dumont + financial troubles + defect + time = dead
Small children with complicated and untreatable heart defects did not have good odds. And Mab Dumont was clearly not dead.
So was she a liar, or a victim?
Mab Dumont = more data required
Tony was pretty sure someone was going to get fired.
Walking through the beautiful medical bay, staffed with the best experts money and influence could buy, not a single person had checked to make sure he belonged there. Sure, he owned the building, but Happy Hogan had a conniption any time someone was caught without a security badge. One idle billionaire helping himself to medical records and snooping on patients?
Someone was going to get fired.
He could have just grabbed a random staff member and gotten the information he needed, but he didn't quite trust that math. He didn't need Dumont's current chart rattled off to him. He'd read that already.
And current staff, it seemed, were mostly glued to the television, watching the B-team load Oodles of Green Noodles into a Raft transport.
Hunched over in a seemingly uncomfortable position at the nurses station, like she'd sat down and just fallen asleep immediately, was a nurse that didn't match the rest. Her scrubs and face were soot stained, her hands washed and bandaged.
"Hey, wake up" Tony jiggled the chair.
She snapped awake sharply, nearly falling over. "Huh?"
He spun the chair a little so she was at least facing him. "You're from Sinai, right?"
She blinked at him slowly. "Birdie Draper," she said, sitting up a little straighter in the chair.
"Right, whatever; Dumont's medications, list them."
"What?"
"All the medications she was taking or having administered at Sinai, names and doses."
She squinted a little. "You're not a doctor."
"I have multiple degrees in physics and engineering, explain it to me slowly and I'll figure it out."
Birdie hesitated, but her remaining brain cell seemed to figure out who he was and made the correct choice. "It's a long list."
"Why?" Tony asked slowly. That was the important question.
The nurse rubbed at her face, trying to wake up but just smearing some soot around instead. "Mab has chronic heart failure stemming from a defect. The cascade is pretty extensive."
A matter of chemistry. The process proceeding in stepwise fashion from an initiating event - a diagnosis of a heart defect and the medication to treat it - to a seemingly inevitable conclusion - the eventual death of the patient. Treatments and side effects. Treatments for side effects. On and on.
The cascade.
"Nevermind about the meds," Tony said, turning lightly on the balls of his feet.
"Okay?" the nurse called after him, but didn't follow.
Dumont's room wasn't hard to find. All Tony had to do was look for a Super Soldier camped out front, his ridiculous proportions shoved into a plastic chair like a clown trying to fit into a plastic RC car.
Tony glanced at the time. Dumont had been in the Cradle for about 10 hours, so she should be out of the woods by now.
Tony loudly pulled a second chair up next to Steve, who had the decency to look sheepish upon startling awake. "Sleeping on the job?"
He'd changed out of his filthy star-spangled uniform, but still seemed to be wearing the better part of the hospital fire on his skin. He'd cleaned up, but very quickly. The old soldier grimaced in discomfort as he adjusted himself in the chair. "Building's got the best security in the world."
"I hear they'll let anyone in these days."
They both nodded awkwardly as a nurse carrying a stack of paperwork walked past and did his best not to stare. Tony noticed with some satisfaction that he, at least, was wearing his security badge.
"So…" Tony drawled.
Steve smiled in chagrin. "Her name is Mab."
"I know that part."
"She's an editor."
"Boring."
"And a poet."
"Ugh." Tony rolled his eyes. "You couldn't do better?"
"No," Steve smiled to himself. "I couldn't."
"Yeah." Tony looked around. "What are you doing out in the hallway, anyway? The rooms are huge, and I'm pretty sure there's a decent recliner in there."
Steve frowned broodily. "I-" Steve stood up without warning. Tony followed his concerned look down the perfect sterile hallway, where a shortish man in a tweed jacket was vey by led in their direction.
"That's Mab's uncle," Steve said.
If Tony was going to get the last bit of information he needed, it was now or never. He stood up as casually as he could manage. "I'll leave that to you, if you don't mind. Give me moment to make sure anything proprietary or classified is put away."
Steve frowned, rightfully suspicious, but Tony slipped into Dumont's room and pulled the door shut before he could start asking intelligent questions.
The generous medical suite was everything an unconscious patient could ask for. High enough to allow the noise of traffic to fall away, but close enough to the city to count the streets.
The Cradle, Helen Cho's masterful invention of near magical prowess, occupied the position of patient's bed, plugged into a red outlet, and almost close enough to the windows for a patient to enjoy the view. If she had been awake, anyway.
Dumont slept, or was being kept unconscious to heal, under the Cradle's perfect care. She had a decent face, and brownish hair, and didn't seem horrifically burned or anything. The Cradle reported her marginally acceptable health, and was dutifully applying her long list of medications as ordered.
"Hello, Mab Dumont." Tony stood at her bedside reading the various displays of the Cradle, entertaining a moment of curiosity. An editor and a poet. Not a face to launch a thousand ships, surely, but to call a Super Soldier in from war. "I'm pretty sure Steve was supposed to bring you to Sunday dinner sometime before now, but we'll talk to him about that later.
Someone was yelling in the hallway.
"Let's get to it, then." Tony scrolled through the Cradle's command series and punched in a new series of commands. "We'll get you feeling better in no time."
The Cradle took the order for a full cardiothoracic scan without complaint. A comforting blue wave washed down the patient, a helpful indicator of the computer's current location, and chimed at completion.
Tony scrolled through the information. The math checked out. So simple. It had taken no time at all.
Mab Dumont = March Cohort
He read it twice before pressing the call light on the wall.
A doctor quickly came into the room, the open door letting some of the hallway's yelling spill into the room for a moment. "Mr. Stark-?" the doctor asked, confused.
Tony merely gestured to the report on the Cradle, like one might order coffee. "Miss Dumont's chart and orders need to be updated."
Mab Dumont - cardiothoracic defect = expect full recovery/(physical therapy)
"Get well soon." Tony patted a hand on top of the Cradle. "Friday, I need Pep and Legal first thing in the morning. No - wake 'em up. I wanna talk to them now."
"Yes, Boss."
A/N: I often wonder how often people pick up on foreshadowing. Shorter chapter, but needed its own space.
Someone pointed out in a comment that it has been a while since we got Mab's POV, and you are so right! It really has. We will get more, but not for probably a few more chapters. She's not going away!
I usually have incredible difficulty writing Tony, but I was trying to show how I think he thinks, and somehow that helped? Who knows.
Next chapter we'll see David and Steve, and maaaayyyyybe a little bit of Mab's POV if the muses allow.