Chapter 34

Tony was drunk. His grip on the shot glass filled with vodka tightened as he stared into the clear liquid. A weak smile flickered on his lips. How had he ever thought to stop? Alcohol gave him back a sense of calming he'd been missing for months. The video couldn't hurt him now. The guilt over Pepper lying injured in the hospital because of him had faded to a distant whisper. Shaw's and Bennett's dead bodies hitting the ground – they were just ghosts now. And the fear of the Ten Rings coming for him? It felt almost laughable.

Everything was fine. No one needed to know about tonight. If he paced himself in the future, he could keep this up. Maybe just a few glasses of wine each week. It was possible. There were alcoholics who managed to maintain control – why couldn't he? As long as it wouldn't escalate again…

A warm shiver coursed through him, loosening the tension in his muscles, and that slight smile stayed fixed on his lips. With a swift motion, he downed the double shot. Then he waved at the waiter with the empty glass who promptly refilled it.

"Isn't this a bit beneath your dignity?" the waiter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Tony blinked, momentarily unsettled.

What did he mean by that? Was he implying Tony shouldn't be drinking? Did he know this was forbidden, that Tony was doing something he wasn't supposed to? Did he know that Tony was a – not-so-recovering – alcoholic?

"This," the waiter clarified, holding up the bottle. "Smirnoff. I thought you rich folks only used cheap stuff like this to clean your toilets."

Relief washed over Tony as he realized the waiter wasn't privy to his secret. Confidence returned.

"Well, first of all, we rich people don't clean our toilets ourselves, so I have no idea what's good for that. And second, Smirnoff vodka has the same kick as any ten thousand dollar bottle of liquor – which I'm sure you're not serving here, so..."

"Uh-huh," the waiter muttered, turning away. As he walked off, Tony heard him murmur, "Fucking snob."

Tony ignored the comment, raised his glass in a mock toast to himself, and downed the shot just as quickly as the last. He knew he'd have to stop soon. If anyone found out about tonight, it would be disastrous. If he showed up at the hospital tomorrow with alcohol on his breath... The thought of Pepper lying in a hospital bed, hurt, made him pause. What was he doing here, drowning himself in alcohol, when he had already learned the hard way that it wasn't going to help?

Tony looked at the empty glass. This wasn't okay. Drinking secretly and then pretending nothing happened.

But then, another voice in his head pushed back. It's just one night, just one or two shots. No one was getting hurt.

"Hey, you! Are you deaf?!" someone shouted behind him.

Tony turned in his seat, staring into the face of a younger guest with light blond hair.

"Are you finally going to answer the phone? It's been ringing for minutes! I'm sick of it!"

Tony didn't respond immediately, prompting the blond guy to shout another annoyed "Hello!"

"Talk to someone who cares," Tony replied indifferently, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Pepper's name lit up on the display. His thumb hovered over the green call button, but he hesitated. Was his speech already noticeably slurred? He shouldn't take the risk. Ignoring the annoyed comments from the guest, he let the call ring out. Then his heart sank. Twelve missed calls from Pepper, and others from Rhodey, Coulson, and Happy. Tony cursed softly, staring at the display. How had he not thought of this? After the Mandarin's video, they must have tried to reach him of course. They must be worried sick by now.

Rightly so, a voice inside him echoed. With trembling hands, Tony listened to his voicemail.

The first message played after a few seconds. It was from Pepper.

Tony? Please pick up the phone; I've tried five times now! I'm worried. I talked to Happy, but he said he dropped you off somewhere in the city? Can you please call me back?

A few seconds later another message from Pepper.

Tony, I'm starting to lose it here. Why aren't you answering? I'm getting paranoid that the terrorists might have caught you... I know it's over the top and nonsense... just call me!

And another one.

Where the hell are you?! Tony, for God's sake, I swear I'm going to worry myself to death! I called Phil and told him you were missing. He said he'd look around. Please tell me everything is okay! I understand that this video probably upset you, but please don't shut yourself off now. Call me!

Then Coulson's voice filled his ear.

Stark, have you seen the news? The video? Pepper says you're not at the hospital and not at home. It would be better if you didn't walk around in public. I don't think you're in immediate danger, but we should meet and discuss the whole thing. Call me when you get a chance. Coulson.

Tony hung up, even though more messages were waiting. His trembling hands opened his texts, and with shaky fingers, Tony quickly typed a message to Pepper.

I'm fine, just walking around the city. Sorry, I had my phone on silent. Don't worry, I'll be back with you at the hospital tomorrow. Love you.

He hesitated before sending it. Was that enough? No, but better than nothing. The message had barely been sent when Pepper called again.

"Ah, fuck!" Tony cursed softly, rubbing his face with his hands.

What should he do? He couldn't talk to her. That wasn't an option. He'd clear things up tomorrow. Pepper was used to his selfishness by now; she'd get over it.

Three texts popped up in quick succession. All from Pepper.

WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING THE PHONE?!

What's so hard about talking to me for just a minute? Where are you?!

Tony, talk to me!

Tony's whole body tensed. He was in over his head. The mess he'd created was closing in on him. In addition, the reality of the dangers loomed large in his mind - those he was trying to ignore: the Mandarin's chilling message.

Pepper, calm down. I can't answer right now. I assure you, everything is fine.

I saw the video, but I'm handling it.

Heading home soon, we'll see each other tomorrow.

Before Pepper could respond, Tony turned off his phone. He couldn't deal with this now. Tony exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Then he waved to the waiter.

"One last one, I have to go."

And he really did have to go. If Pepper had set Coulson on him, then he needed to disappear fast. Coulson had likely contacted Happy by now and knew where he'd dropped him off. Maybe the agent wouldn't expect him in a low-end pizzeria, but Tony didn't want to risk running into him on the street. Going home wasn't really an option either; maybe it was better to spend the night in a hotel somewhere. Tony hated how much energy he had to expend on this situation. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? First, they wanted him to leave the hospital and relax. And now that he finally did, they shoved him like cattle toward the slaughterhouse.

Another double Smirnoff appeared in front of him. Tony downed it, dramatically slapped some bills on the table, and stood up. He immediately swayed and had to hold on for a moment until his brain adjusted to the change in position. Then Tony quickly left the pizza place, only to stumble directly into a throng of reporters seemingly waiting for him. Instantly, the familiar chaos broke out, with everyone shouting over each other.

Surprised, Tony stood still for a moment, staring into the sea of cameras. How did they know he was here? Had someone tipped them off? One of the guests? The waiter? Whoever it was, Tony cursed them internally.

"Mr. Stark," one of the reporters shouted particularly loudly over the others' questions. "Can we get a reaction to the Mandarin video? You have a special connection to the Ten Rings; how did the video affect you?"

"I'm not giving any comments on that!" Tony shouted angrily. "Get out of my way, let me through!"

The reporters pressed so close to him that Tony had to use both hands to push them away. Then someone shoved their phone so close to his face that he lost his temper and knocked it away. The phone flew somewhere into the crowd. While the affected reporter loudly complained, the others pressed even closer, bombarding him with more questions about the Mandarin. An overwhelming sense of vulnerability washed over him.

A hand brushed against his side, and a sharp pain shot through his broken ribs. Tony groaned as the pain momentarily took his breath away. He stumbled back a few steps and then sank to one knee, clutching his side and gasping for air.

"Go away! Let me-" Tony shouted, his face twisted in pain, as he struggled unsuccessfully to get back on his feet.

The reporters shamelessly kept their cameras on him, thrusting their recording devices and phones towards him. Tony suppressed the urge to just cover his ears. Then suddenly, the crowd was pushed back a few feet, and pairs of dress shoes took their place. Tony looked up and recognized the typical suits of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who were forcing the reporters to give them space. Coulson leaned down beside him.

"Are you okay?" he asked Tony gently.

"They hit my ribs," Tony gasped, still struggling to breathe.

"Can you stand?"

Without waiting for an answer, Coulson carefully pulled Tony to his feet. Tony groaned as his body stretched painfully.

"This way," Coulson said calmly, guiding him to a familiar black Cadillac, while the agents formed a barrier between them and the press.

Coulson opened the back door, and Tony dragged himself into the car. He slid over to the far seat, and a few seconds later, Coulson sat down next to him and closed the door behind them, bringing immediate relief from the noise. Two other men in suits were seated in the front. The car began to move at once.

"Are you okay?" Coulson asked again, looking at him. "Should we take you back to the hospital just to be safe?"

"No need," Tony replied curtly, avoiding eye contact.

His entire side throbbed, but that was secondary now. He was so close to being exposed. If Pepper found out he was drunk, she might leave him. His only chance was to get out of the car before they noticed his intoxication and then hole up in a hotel until he was sober again.

When Coulson didn't speak for several seconds, Tony reluctantly turned his head toward him and found that Coulson was watching him closely.

"What?" Tony blurted out before he could stop himself.

Coulson snorted briefly, shaking his head before turning to look out the window, his fingers absently drumming against the glass.

"You can drop me off a few streets down," Tony suggested, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Coulson even chuckled at that. "Absolutely not, Stark."

Tony stared at him until Coulson met his gaze again.

"Oh, you want to talk about it?" Coulson asked with an expressionless face.

"About what?" Tony asked defensively.

Coulson seemed to consider his words carefully. "Stark, I'm afraid you're not as good at hiding your condition as you used to be. I can tell you're drunk."

Tony's eyes widened in alarm, his body tensing once more.

"Don't tell Pepper," he said reflexively before he could stop himself once again.

"That is your biggest problem, you think?" Coulson asked, a touch of incredulity in his tone.

Shame washed over Tony. He dropped his gaze to his lap, struggling to regain his composure. Coulson had seen right through him. Did the reporters notice too? Would it be all over the news? Would Pepper, Rhodey, Happy – everyone – see how far he'd fallen again?

"So, you didn't take the video too well," Coulson observed, his tone even.

"Apparently not..." Tony admitted.

The car moved in silence for a while, the tension in Tony's chest slowly giving way to resignation.

"Where are we going?" he finally asked, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"To your home."

When the Cadillac finally pulled up to his house, the door was opened for him. For the first time, Tony fully realized how drunk he actually was when he struggled to get out of the car. He swayed on the spot, staring at the wet gravel beneath his feet, waiting for someone to take charge and tell him what to do next.

Coulson walked around to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and slowly guided him toward the house, the other two agents following at a slight distance. Once inside the living room, Coulson gently let him go and instructed one of the agents to fetch Tony a glass of water. Tony continued to stare dejectedly at the floor, feeling utterly defeated.

"So, what now?" Coulson asked him calmly.

Tony shrugged, still not lifting his gaze. He felt like a child who'd been caught misbehaving, awaiting the inevitable lecture.

"You must have had some idea of how things would proceed," Coulson pressed. "You've been drinking again. Okay. Fine. What's next?"

Tony remained silent, feeling as if nothing mattered anymore. What was the point of answering? What did Coulson want from him?

"Are you planning on giving in to it again? Or was this just a detour into the pleasures of intoxication?"

Tony pressed his lips tightly together. The agent returned with the water and handed it to him, but Tony felt paralyzed. He didn't want water. He didn't want to be here. He wanted...

As he stared at the agent, the memory of Shaw and Bennett flickered in his mind. One of them would have been the one handing him a glass now. He saw them kneeling, faces etched with shock, as they were shot. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground echoed in his ears.

"I'm so sorry Shaw and Bennett were killed," he heard himself murmur, his voice barely above a whisper. "I liked them. I didn't want them to die like that."

Coulson, who had been quietly observing, leaned in slightly. "They knew the risks. They were offered the chance to be reassigned or to take a break, but they declined. They wanted to stay with you."

Tony's chest tightened at those words. "It's not fair. They shouldn't have had to pay that price."

"I know it hurts, it hurts me as well. And it doesn't make the loss any less painful. But they died doing what they wanted to do. They believed in you, and that's something."

Tony nodded slowly, his breath thickening as he felt the weight of their sacrifice.

"I wish I could have done something... anything to save them."

"You can honor them by making better choices from here on," Coulson said gently. "So, here's the question again. What do you want to do next?"

Tony's gaze dropped to his shoes again. He didn't know the answer to that.

"Stark?"

Silence.

"Tony?"

For some reason, hearing his first name made him automatically lift his head to meet Coulson's gaze. There was no judgment in Coulson's expression – only concern. That look made it harder to hold back, so he turned his gaze past Coulson. There was his bar. Or what had once been his bar. Now only a few lonely bottles of lemonade and juice sat there. Did he want to go back to that? Did he want his bar filled with the finest spirits from around the world again?

"I don't know," Tony finally admitted. "I didn't think..."

Coulson made an indistinct "Hmm" sound. Tony noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Coulson was putting his hands in his pockets. On the mostly deserted bar was a large, opulent bouquet of flowers and an elegantly decorated "Get Well Soon, Miss Potts" card with the Stark Industries logo. Interesting that it had been delivered to his house and not to Pepper's apartment, he thought when he noticed something else. Right next to the bouquet was a bottle of red wine with a red ribbon around its neck. Tony's mouth fell open slightly, and he felt his palms begin to sweat. He stared at the bottle, immediately craving it. Coulson followed his gaze.

"Oh, you're not done yet?"

Something inside Tony cracked at those words. His eyes welled up, but he fought to maintain control, staring at the bottle as if it held all the answers. Then, it hit him — he was drunk again. He was playing with fire. This was dangerous, more dangerous than he'd let himself believe. Before he could spiral further, two hands rested on his shoulders. Coulson stepped between him and the temptation, blocking the sight of the bottle.

"Tony…" Coulson said quietly, squeezing his shoulders. "You thought it was over. And now it looks like Raza was just small fry. It's even possible he acted on his own to take revenge on you and not on behalf of the Ten Rings. But this thing that happens right now with the Mandarin is bigger than you and me. This is about the whole world."

Tony nodded, though he felt numb. How could he have gone from a euphoric high to such an endless pit in just a few hours?

"You know, Tony," Coulson continued, "I believe in you. Fury saw something in you, and I've come to see it too. You have a lot to offer the world. Your only problem is that you don't trust others. If you had, tonight probably wouldn't have happened."

Tony's lower lip trembled, but he managed to keep any sound from escaping – no sobs, no sniffles. Coulson removed one hand and gently guided him to the couch with the other. Tony allowed Coulson to softly push him into a sitting position. He rested his elbows on his thighs, buried his face in his hands for a moment, then wiped away his tears and cleared his throat. Coulson stood in front of him and pressed the glass into his hand. It was still just water, and that wasn't what Tony really wanted but he accepted it.

"That you drank tonight sucks. Sure", Coulson said. "But it doesn't have to seal your fate. That's why I asked you earlier what you plan to do now. You have it in your hands, Tony. You decide how things will go from here."

Tony nodded, barely managing to keep the tears from falling.

"I suggest you sleep it off now. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow. Pepper knows by now that you're safe, in case you were worried about that. Everything else will sort itself out."

Tony stared at the glass of water for a long moment, as if weighing his options. And then, a voice inside his head told him to stop with the eternal self-pity. He looked up at Coulson, a hint of resolve returning to his eyes.

"I've already made my decision before Raza attacked us," Tony said, blinking the last tears away. "And I'm not stepping back from it. I'm getting back in the suit. I'm going to fight."

Coulson studied him for a moment before a small, approving smile touched his lips. "That's what I was hoping to hear."

Tony held his gaze for a second longer, the determination settling in, but then something else flickered in his expression – something softer, almost hesitant. He swallowed, the words catching in his throat before he finally asked, "Will… will you stay?"

Coulson looked at him for a moment, surprised by the sudden shift, but then he nodded. "Yes, we'll stay here tonight."

So, here we have another misstep from Tony, just as a global crisis looms. Sorry, no happy ending yet! We're not quite at the finish line. I'm planning to wrap up this fanfiction in about four or five more chapters. Thanks for reading and commenting! I'm excited to hear what you think of the final chapters – there's still plenty to come, and things are about to get intense.