Marvel 616 Fic: Undo | Chapter 2

[vail_kagami]

summary and story information this way

Steve was wrong: he can’t do it. Whatever he had imagined, even having seen Tony lose all hold on the here and now before, it’s worse than he thought, and he can’t be there for Tony—can’t even hold his hand. Because Tony won’t let him.

Because Steve being there only makes things worse.

Tony is bad enough as it is; when he’s awake and not drugged, he’s twitchy, nervous, prone to suddenly breaking down crying when one thought leads to another and to a random memory of someone who died or something that got broken beyond repair. He is like a raw nerve, and it’s painful to watch as he struggles to keep a hold on something, anything, as facts and knowledge and feelings just pile up on top of one another and crush him.

But when Steve is there, it’s worse. There is so much that happened between them in the time Tony lost and none of it good, but it’s Steve’s death that’s most prominent in Tony’s mind. Or maybe it’s just what makes it impossible for Tony to anchor himself with anything when the tide threatens to sweep him away. After a few days of watching Tony, Steve knows without a doubt that Samson is right: He remembers everything at once, but without any order to the memories. Everything gets confused and mingled together, which is what makes it so hard for Tony to come to terms with everything and file it away as something that is past and passed. He can manage, sometimes: when the memories of their fighting overwhelm him, or of the invasion, he can tell, intellectually if not emotionally, that it happened long ago, since the city is not currently in ruins. Jarvis is not a Skrull, so finding out he was one and getting back the real Jarvis happened before. It’s still hard and it’s not always enough, but eventually, Tony will get it all figured out, Samson is sure.

Except for Steve. Every time Steve comes in, every time he tries to help ends with Tony having a panic attack, or passing out from emotional overload, and on one memorable occasion having a seizure. If he’s not convinced that Steve is a Skrull, he thinks he’s a hallucination caused by Extremis and guilt or that he’s simply going insane. Or he’s just lost and confused and nothing makes sense, to the point where Tony tries to hurt himself just to have something to focus on and make it stop.

Sometimes Steve finds himself wondering if he really died, after all, and this is some kind of personal Hell. Because the only thing that’s worse than watching the person he loves most in the world suffer and not being able to help him is that he’s actually making it worse.

“The problem is that he remembers you dying, and it’s pretty easy to place that at the chronological end of his memories of you,” Samson explains one evening while Tony is lost in drugged nightmares at the other end of the penthouse. “Seeing you real and alive tells him that even what little sense he made of the world is all wrong. Nothing makes sense when you’re around because you’re dead but you’re not.”

“I’m not.” Steve runs a hand though his hair, resisting the urge to pull it in frustration. “Tony knows that. He remembers me coming back, why doesn’t that count?”

“Because he doesn’t remember it. He was in a coma when you returned.”

“Yeah, but he woke up. And his memories of what came after are still intact.”

“True. But you need to consider that the more recent memories are being swallowed because time had the chance to take the edge off anything that happened since Tony’s reboot, whereas everything before that is new and raw like it only just happened. And you coming back happened at the worst possible time: Tony deleted his brain knowing you were dead, and when he woke up you were already back without him finding that remarkable because he didn’t know you’d been gone in the first place. So instead of having a moment of ’Oh my God, Steve is back from the dead!’ magnitude, he merely had a moment of “Hey, I just found out that Steve used to be dead but evidently he no longer is,’ which doesn’t have quite the same emotional impact.”

It’s hard not to put his hand through the wall in frustration, because Steve has to accept that Samson is right. Tony can’t handle him right now, and Steve dreads the answer to the question he has to ask. “So what can I do?”

“You have to stay away,” Samson says with an air of finality that tells Steve this is exactly what he wanted to talk to him about today. “For the time being. Until Tony has sorted this out. I’m sorry.”

Steve can’t even bring himself to acknowledge the empty platitude.

 

-

 

It’s Steve who moves out, since he has friends he can stay with while Tony doesn’t really have anything right now. Nothing but these rooms, which should have been his anyway but aren’t anymore, not really. Steve’s not even sure if he still has the place in Seattle, near the Resilient HQ, but that doesn’t matter anyway because Seattle is too far away. Steve may not be allowed to be with him, but he’s damn sure going to be there if anything happens.

Like the guys who caused this coming back for Tony. It’s unlikely, considering the way they discarded him after use like something that had lost all worth to them, but Steve will feel better once they are caught and taken out. Because they are evidently dangerous, and because he really, really wants to punch them a lot.

At least things are moving in that regard. Neither SHIELD nor Steve’s fellow Avengers have any leads on where they disappeared to yet, but they are looking, really looking and making an effort for once. They did before, but not nearly as hard as they should have. Everyone was busy with more immediate threats and momentarily satisfied with letting Tony’s attackers run free since there was no trace of them and no place to start searching. For all they knew then, those people had just wanted torture Tony Stark a bit and were no further threat to anyone. Since it became known that they might have gotten a hold of the registration database and other things that have been stored in Tony’s mind, everyone is suddenly a lot more invested in finding them.

At least now that he has no reason to stay home anymore, Steve can do more to help in that regard. He’s been itching to, but didn’t have the time to spare when fixing Tony was more important than finding the men who broke him.

Right now, Tony is sedated and asleep, so Steve takes the liberty of saying goodbye in person. But when he enters the bedroom, Tony isn’t alone, and if there had been anything Steve wanted to say, he can’t now. Not that Tony would have heard him. It would have been solely for Steve’s own benefit. It doesn’t matter.

Tony’s face is ashen, his long black lashes a stark contrast against his pale cheeks. Steve looks down at him and it hurts.

They used to share this bed. Steve used to hold Tony close here; when Steve woke from a nightmare, Tony would be there with a comforting hand against his cheek. This is where they made love for the first time, months ago. They were happy here, safe.

Now a young woman sits on the edge of the bed, taking Tony’s pulse and writing something down in a notebook. Steve doesn’t know her name, but he recognizes her: She’s a nurse who already worked in this tower when most of it was still occupied by Stark Industries. If she returned to this workplace out of nostalgia, or loyalty, or if she was one of those who threw empty bottles at Tony when everything went to hell, Steve doesn’t know. (If she was, Tony remembers that now.)

She greets Steve with a nod but doesn’t say anything. Steve thinks about asking how Tony is doing, but takes her silence as a warning to be quiet. He doesn’t know how long it will be until he gets to see Tony in person again, and he doesn’t want him losing it over Steve’s presence to be the last image to carry with him.

Tony being pale and thin and tossing weakly in restless sleep is bad enough.

In the end Steve doesn’t even stay a minute. He goes back to the room he’s been sleeping in since Tony’s return, grabs his bag, and when the doors to the elevator open, he runs into James Rhodes.

It’s more than a little unexpected. On Samson’s advice, basically all of Tony’s friends stay away from him since the psychologist is of the opinion that seeing them will only confuse Tony further, and for a second, Steve wants to snap at Rhodes if he didn’t get the memo.

Rhodes, on the other hand, doesn’t seem surprised at all to see Steve with his bag packed and obviously about to leave for an extended period of time.

“Samson asked you to take over while I’m gone,” Steve says instead of a greeting when realization hits him. It’s followed by a flash of anger that apparently Rhodes knew what his presence was doing to Tony before Steve himself did.

“Yes, but I was on my way here anyway,” Rhodes replies. He’s in civilian clothes, something Steve has rarely seen on him. Usually, the few times they met, Tony’s friend was either in his military uniform or—more often—in the War Machine armor.

Or the Iron Man armor, back in the day when Steve didn’t know who was wearing it, only that it wasn’t Tony.

“Why?” Steve frowns. Maybe Rhodes didn’t get the memo after all.

Rhodes frowns right back at him. “Why are you here?”

“I would think that by now the entire world knows why I’m here.” Steve tries not to snap. This man hasn’t actually done anything to him. It’s not his fault that he’s allowed to be with Tony and Steve isn’t, and he didn’t leak the news about Steve and Tony’s relationship to the press.

“Yeah, about that.” Rhodes walks into the penthouse and since apparently their conversation is still going on, Steve has no choice but to follow. Tony’s friend is aiming for the couch, where he drops his bag. He seems to be prepared for a longer stay, just as Steve is prepared for a longer absence. “I’d take the back door if I were you. I think some of the journalists are camping in front of the entrance. If I were you, I’d charge rent.”

The noise Steve makes in reply is something between a sigh and a groan. It seems the day just keeps getting worse and worse and worse.

“I don’t understand why they are so invested in our private life. There are more interesting things to write about.”

“Seriously? Right now, there aren’t. More important, surely. But the general population doesn’t care about important. They want something to bring entertainment to their lives, and right now you and Tony are providing that.”

It’s not what Steve wanted to hear, and the fact that he knows it’s true doesn’t change that. It’s hard not to resent Rhodes for being able to talk about this, about everything, as if it weren’t a problem at all, as if it didn’t concern him. But then, it doesn’t. Tony’s condition is the problem of Steve and Tony, of the Avengers because Tony is out of commission for the time being, and of the guys from Resilient because they won’t be able to fall back on Tony’s help right now. The public interest that followed Steve’s accidental reveal of their relationship is Steve’s problem, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let anyone make it Tony’s problem as well. At any other time, he would have been glad to let his lover handle the press and publicity work, but now, all this is a kind of stress Tony doesn’t need and can’t handle.

So it comes as a surprise, but a pleasant one, when Rhodes suddenly turns to face him and says, “They’ve been trying to get into the tower and get a personal statement from either of you for days, and I swear, if I find you allowed them to come anywhere near Tony in his condition, I’ll be coming after you in the armor.”

Steve can appreciate that, actually. “No one came even close to the penthouse without personal invitation.” Not counting those who have a personal override code for the elevator and door locks, like Rhodes does. Reporters don’t get those.

Rhodes seems to be satisfied with the answer, but he still looks at Steve with the frown between his brows, thoughtful and a little calculating. It occurs to Steve that he doesn’t even know if Rhodes knew about him and Tony before the press found out but assumes he did. It seems like the kind of thing one would tell one’s best friend.

But then, this is Tony, who tends to inform his friends about any subject on a need-to-know basis.

“I have to say, I’m a little surprised it even came to this.” Rhodes says as he’s flopping on the couch. His eyes settle on the corridor that leads to Tony’s bedroom but for the moment he doesn’t seem to have a desire to see his friend. Or maybe talking to Steve comes first. “I’d have thought you would have let the world know by now, probably with a press release where Tony is involved, or with a passionate speech about equal rights or whatever. This is exactly the thing you’d make a statement with, isn’t it? And what’s happening now is exactly the kind of public relations nightmare Tony likes to avoid. And this thing with you has been going on long enough if I got that right.”

“For one,” Steve begins, briskly, “I don’t like using my personal life to make political statements. And besides that, we talked about it. And we were going to let the world know—or at least stop hiding it, because this isn’t the kind of thing that deserves an official statement. It’s just two people being in love. But we both knew how the press would react and the time was never right so far. There were always more important things to worry about, or more important news we didn’t want to give the media a chance to sideline.”

Rhodes nods thoughtfully, his gaze still resting on the door, or maybe far away. “I call bullshit.”

Steve glares at him, “Excuse me?”

“You usually know what you’re doing, right? Both of you. I mean, you live in this world and age and all. So you know that there will never be a good time for something like that, and waiting for it is an excuse. Now, I know Tony and I can list five reasons off the top of my head why he would hesitate to come out to the public as being in a relationship with Captain America. But you? Don’t you think that keeping it secret is giving the wrong message? Like it’s something to be ashamed of? Because I don’t know if you have watched the reports about you lately…”

Steve almost winches. No, he hasn’t watched the reports, has deliberately avoided them. They are a problem he didn’t want to face while Tony losing his mind was the more pressing concern, but he knows that since now he no longer has Tony to focus on (because he’s not allowed anymore) he has to face the music. There is Avengers business to take care of and Tony’s attackers to hunt down, but he cannot use that as an excuse in the long run. Because Rhodes is right, it would be an excuse in that case.

Which doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t have valid reasons for not coming out so far, one of them being that he doesn’t like his personal life and relationships to be treated by the media like anyone but him and his partner have any say in it. He could tell Rhodes that, but doesn’t really feel like having this discussion. He just wants to leave while he still can.

“What five reasons would those be?” he asks instead. “Because I can only think of two.”

Finally, the other man looks at him, and it’s that calculating gaze again. “Which ones would they be?”

“Not giving our enemies anything else they can use against us, and the business related stuff. Stock prices, business contracts, the kind. He’s responsible for his company, after all, and can’t ignore things like that.”

“Sounds good. Like an official statement you’d give at a press conference. Or rather like an official statement Tony would give at a press conference. Except for the company stuff, of course, considering he doesn’t currently run any.”

Steve knows that, of course; he ignored that bit because Tony was still running Resilient himself when they got together, and because he’ll get back into business—officially—eventually. Tony Stark and running businesses go together in Steve’s mind. Tony’s never been able to stay away from it for long.

Regardless of that, Steve is aware that what he said sounded like the kind of shallow reasoning Tony would give someone he doesn’t want to reveal anything more personal to, and yes, Steve knows it goes deeper than that, but he never asked. Never felt the need to discuss this with Tony when they were both satisfied with the way things were.

Looking back, that might have been a mistake. Maybe he’s been shying away from answers he didn’t want to hear, or from analyzing his own motivations. Going into battle with the Red Skull is easier, after all.

Getting the answers he dreads from Tony’s friend rather than Tony himself wouldn’t be any better; especially since Rhodes seems to think Steve isn’t serious enough about this relationship anyway. Still he asks. “Your turn. Three reasons you think I missed.”

Rhodes snorts but nods. “Very well. Protecting your reputation, not knowing how long it’ll last, his father. And that’s as far as I’m willing to discuss my best friend’s emotional issues with his boyfriend.”

And it’s not much, either. Steve would like to point out that neither he nor his reputation needs any protection from his own decisions, that Tony’s father is dead and that Tony seemed happy enough with their relationship so why would he prepare for its end? But one of those arguments is silly and the other two he’ll have to take up with Tony when he gets the chance. Rhodes is right. It’s not really their place to discuss this without Tony being even in the room.

“I agree,” he therefore says, shouldering his bag. “I’m late anyway. Call…” He hesitates for a moment and hopes Rhodes isn’t going to be an asshole about this. “Call me if anything happens.”

After a second, Rhodes nods. “Will do.”

And that is that. Steve turns and finally leaves the place he shared with his lover for the last couple of months, and Rhodes is left behind sitting on the couch, his arms resting on his knees and facing the bedroom as if he’s preparing for a mission.

 

-

 

James Rhodes has seen Tony Stark in all kinds of states, most of them bad. He’s seen him unconscious, drugged, mind-controlled, drunk, brain dead, depressed, bleeding out, sick… Almost all of those unfortunate experiences, Tony has brought on himself, and some he even deserved. Yet, it was never fun to see him that way, because even if things didn’t always run smoothly between them, he’s still Jim’s best friend and Jim will always love him. But he also kind of got used to the sight. Unless it’s something particularly catastrophic or Tony is legitimately dying, it’s hard for him to feel as shocked, or even as sympathetic, as he should. Which is probably a good thing; otherwise he would never stop drowning in sympathy long enough to live his own life.

But his own life has been put on hold for the moment (again) anyway and for all that he is physically more or less okay (as in, he’s not actively dying), Tony has rarely ever looked as bad as he does when he enters the room where Jim is waiting for him.

He’s walking with a cane because his broken ankle hasn’t healed yet and his right arm is in a sling, but Jim barely notices that. He’s seen that before often enough, just as he has often seen his friend pale and thin, with dark shadows around his eyes like bruises and sunken-in cheeks. If anyone asked him, he wouldn’t even be able to say why this time the sight turns something in his stomach and makes him feel almost painfully concerned and strangely sad.

It’s the way Tony is holding himself as he’s limping in, he thinks. Shoulders hunched ever-so-slightly, tense and wary and almost shy as he slowly enters the room. He acknowledges Jim’s presence but never looks at him directly. Defenseless is the word Jim’s mind provides. Tony looks helpless and utterly vulnerable and insecure and all the ways Tony Stark should never look.

At least he’s dressed properly, in jeans and a sweater, and his hair is orderly. When Jim saw him before, just after arriving last evening, he was still asleep, ruffled and unshaven and dressed in an oversized t-shirt that made him look even more fragile. He hadn’t woken up then, and now Jim feels the dread raise its ugly head again and mingle with the other things he doesn’t want to feel.

He’s been dreading this moment because he doesn’t know how Tony will react to him. He hasn’t even been able to stand the presence of Captain-freaking-America, and regardless of how Jim feels about it, Tony loves that man, has for ages, and yet he couldn’t look at him without freaking out. Jim doesn’t know what he’ll do if Tony freaks out because of him as well; if his presence does him more harm than good.

He never wants to hurt this man, even if sometimes he wants to punch him in the face,

So when Tony gives a vague nod in his direction and says, “Hey, Jim,” he breathes an inaudible sigh of relief.

“Tony,” he says, and he wants to say more but doesn’t want to set Tony off, to trigger something. Dr. Samson follows Tony into the room and leads him to the couch, where Tony sits down with his arms wrapped around himself, his head down. He looks so exhausted.

Jim knows Tony is drugged, that Samson gave him a sedative to help him keep calm and not think too much, and yet Tony is shaking, and he’s sitting there like he doesn’t care that they can see his weakness and it’s just plain wrong. Jim doesn’t want to see him like this. After everything that happened, everything Tony has been through and put them through lately, Jim wants to see him strong. Like he can make it on his own.

This isn’t about what Jim wants.

This was all Samson’s idea and Jim isn’t going to argue with the man. At least not yet. He’s going to argue when Samson has an idea that won’t work for Tony because Tony is a dick who has to make things as difficult as they can be for everyone.

Now Tony is sitting there and keeping himself together, if barely. Okay, this could be worse. He lets Jim be there for him. He lets Jim be there.

He even lies down when Samson gently tells him to. Jim wonders how, for all the shit Tony’s been through and all his issues, this might be the first time he’s getting professional help.

Tony closes his eyes even before he’s told to. Samson thinks it’ll help not to see anything that will get him to remember things or distract him from what he is supposed to focus on. Even so, Tony is far too tense and Jim can see how he is struggling to remain calm and not think, something that is almost impossible for someone like him. He’s clasping his own hands over his chest, one gripping the other so hard his knuckles are white , and for a while he’s breathing so hard he’s almost hyperventilating. Samson waits patiently until he’s calmed down, until whatever this was has passed, while Jim shifts restlessly in his seat.

It’s easy enough. Or rather, it’s simple enough. Jim could have thought of it himself if he’d allowed himself to think about it long enough. Tony’s memory is a mess, everything’s there but there’s no order to it. The accuracy, the raw freshness of everything is an issue for another day. For now they will concentrate on helping Tony to get everything in order, so he has even a chance to work through it and move on.

Technically, Tony could get things in the right order himself. He should be able to logically conclude that some things need to have happened before or after other things, but as long as everything crashes down on him at once, he doesn’t stand a chance to even try. He needs someone to guide him through it.

What Tony had lost after wiping his mind was everything since infecting himself with the Extremis virus, so that’s where they start. Samson doesn’t do much except give Tony a starting point and help him focus as he has him tell them what happens next, and after that, and after that, providing a line to hold on to. Jim doesn’t do anything at all but sit there listening to Tony’s quiet, shaky voice and feel like an intruder.

It’s not even like they are breaching Tony’s privacy much. Most of the things Tony tells them Jim, at least, already knows because he’s been there or heard about it, and Tony doesn’t get into his personal feelings much. Samson, mercifully, doesn’t ask, even when Tony falls still for a moment and throws an arm over his face as some emotion or other overwhelms him. This is not about Tony’s feelings, it’s about creating a timeline for him. What he felt at one point or another—what he feels as he’s moving through his own history in fast forward—is a side effect of the process and nothing they have to concern themselves with right now.

Jim watches his friend curl up into a shaking ball an hour or two later and doesn’t dare to touch him for fear he’ll shatter.

Samson calls it quits after that. It’s clearly all Tony can take for the time being. They didn’t even get far. Shit happened in Tony’s life and they have to cover all of it, not just the things that made the news. With Tony working through the emotions connected to the specific memories, this is going to take a long time.

Today, Tony made it until that time when some punk kid hijacked his brain and made him kill people. He lost it around the time he came back to his senses only to see two guys fall down to Earth after Iron Man dropped them from the stratosphere. Even worse than that is the realization that followed that if he killed these people without remembering it, then he’s also responsible for the hundreds of men, women and children who died when that plane was destroyed. It’s not like he says so, specifically, but Jim can tell from the bits he chokes out between sobs and from knowing Tony. (He wants to go over there and tell his friend that he’s wrong, that having been used to do it and being responsible are not the same thing in this case, but he doesn’t dare make any sound at all.)

Samson leaves for a while and maybe Jim should, too. Leave Tony some privacy while he’s falling apart, since that’s something Tony prefers to do in private. He doesn’t think it would be a good idea, though. More so, it feels wrong to walk out on his friend now.

He fells utterly useless and helpless, though: just sitting there on the sofa, watching Tony lost in some horrible moment, unable to bring himself to do anything. And what could he do? It’s like he’s not even here, because during the moment Tony is reliving he wasn’t there so he doesn’t matter now. Interrupting whatever is happening in Tony’s mind would probably only make it worse, throw in other memories or just confuse him and destroy their progress or something. So Jim is left feeling like a ghost, damned to watch but not interact. Or maybe like a time traveler, going to the past to watch disaster unfold without being able to stop it.

Or like a time-travelling ghost. That probably comes closest.

Eventually, Tony falls still and Jim finally dares to get up and walk over to the couch, certain he’s worn himself out and fallen asleep. Tony is lying with his back to the room; Jim can see the outline of his spine through the thin fabric of the sweater. Tony’s hands are clasped before his chest again, and as he leans over him, Jim can see he’s not asleep at all but staring straight ahead at nothing, and there is a controlled quality to his breathing. He’s trying. At least there’s that.

Then Jim notices something else, and that is how Tony’s good hand is holding his broken one in a white-knuckled grip. And, sure, that hand is splinted, but not encased in a hard shell everywhere. There are enough soft spots for Tony to dig his fingers into. Focusing on the pain to get through this. Jim gets that, he does, but still his first reaction is to reach out, thoughtlessly, and take hold of Tony’s hands, trying to pry them apart. “No, no. Tony,” he says. “Stop that. It’s okay.”

Tony flinches and then kind of flips out at him. Jim should have expected that. He holds his struggling friend for what feels like an hour but is probably three minutes, and then Samson shows up with a syringe that knocks Tony out cold in thirty seconds.

“That actually went well,” the doctor states after Jim has carried Tony back to his room and tucked him in on his side of the large double bed. “Tomorrow we’ll try again.”

 

-

 

They do it again the next day, and the next, getting a little further down the timeline every day. It sometimes makes Jim feel surprised, or even a little sick, to realize just how much of what was going on in Tony’s life he actually missed. Of course there was shit going on in his own life that Tony never had any clue was happening, what with them not being married or joined at the hip and all, but looking back he still wishes he could have been there for some of it and wonders if there was anything he did wrong, if he let old resentments get in his way, if there was anything he doesn’t have an excuse for not doing.

But it’s too late to change anything in any case. It’s not like he can wrench himself into Tony’s memories after the fact.

They reach the point where Tony was dealing with the SHRA and facing ugly decisions while no one else yet had any idea how bad it would get. He doesn’t say much about that, about the options he was pondering and how much the realization of which way he had to choose to get the least catastrophic outcome tore him up, but he falls silent at that point, lost in his own mind. He swallows a lot, hiding his face beneath his arms with his hands balled into fists, even the broken one. Then he has a seizure and passes out. Even Samson has a hard time calling that much of a success.

Jim isn’t entirely sure that Tony’s decisions during the SHRA debacle were always the right ones, that the other options were always as inevitably worse as Tony was convinced they were, but he will never regret having stood by his friend through that particular mess.

Watching him fall apart over it again, Jim can’t help but wonder how often before he did that when no one was looking. Despite having been almost constantly surrounded by people, Tony spent an awful lot of that time alone. Just like right now he has to deal with it alone. Samson is sure that it wasn’t just this episode that made Tony seize and pass out, but that he lost focus there and was taken over by too many other memories and disconnected emotions. Either way, it’s clear that this part of Tony’s memories is going to be a bitch to get through. And it won’t get any better, Jim suddenly realizes as he stands in the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee with hands that are shaking with adrenaline and worry. They only just reached the beginning of a phase of Tony’s life that is going to culminate with him deciding that deleting his brain and effectively committing suicide is a good idea.

Jim spends the night tossing restlessly on the sheets of his bed in the guest room, but then, that’s what he has done every night since coming here. The tension that comes from not knowing when things will go terribly wrong and when he will somehow do something that will mess Tony up even worse doesn’t help. It never really went away even after days of Tony not losing it over him. That so far, Tony has failed to actually interact with him or look him in the eyes doesn’t help at all.

The next day there is no official session. Tony isn’t doing well enough for that. He can’t focus enough to even start concentrating on one memory at a time and they don’t try because he’s fallen sick and in really no state to do anything. So Tony spends of the day mostly-sedated and throwing up whatever liquid food they manage to get into him and Jim spends his time fretting and trying not to feel terrible when Tony hides under the blankets and covers his ears and still flinches whenever Jim comes anywhere near him.

The day after, Tony sleeps off his fever and Jim stays away, leaving it to the nurse to care for his friend. Between surfing the internet—he doesn’t dare to turn on the news on TV for fear of Tony walking in—he calls Pepper to tell her how Tony is doing and to get updated on things he missed being holed up here. Later he thinks about calling Rogers but before he’s made up his mind whether or not to do that, his cell rings and look at that, the guy at the other end of the line identifies as Steve Rogers.

“I was just thinking about you,” Jim informs him. “Just found this article on the internet in which the author wonders if you and Tony disappeared since the reveal about your relationship because you’re afraid, or ashamed, or because it caused a rift between you and you broke up.”

There is a groan that tells Jim all he needed to know: Rogers hasn’t done much by way of getting on top of that mess since he left here. “The photo that outed us was taken when they loaded Tony into an ambulance. Doesn’t anyone consider that we might not be out in public because he’s hurt?”

“Nope,” Jim says lightly. “There hasn’t been anything official about that but Pepper playing it down when asked for a statement, so they assume that it’s not so bad. Besides, it’s not as entertaining as the other possibilities.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Jim can basically sense Rogers fuming. For all that he is a poster boy for freedom of speech, Captain America and the free press will probably never become friends.

“Well, it’s nice to know that Tony Stark being badly injured is not entertaining enough,” he finally bites out, and Jim can’t help but silently agree. Then Rogers turns to business. “Is there any news? How is he?”

He sounds genuinely concerned and hopeful. Jim sighs. “We’re probably making progress. It’s hard to tell at this point, but Samson’s doing a good job of untangling Tony’s memories. How much that helps in the end remains to be seen until we’re done with it, but it should help him to make sense of everything and work through it.” Maybe he should mention Tony’s sickness, but he’s getting better already and Tony being sick is not, strictly speaking, news.

And telling Rogers of the seizures… well, Jim is not quite that petty.

“Good. That’s good,” Rogers says as if he’s trying to convince himself of it. “Thank you.”

“So how are things going on your side? I’m assuming someone would have told me by now if you had found the guys who did this and roasted them over a fire, right?” It never hurts to make sure.

“We have a lead, but we’re not sure it goes anywhere.” Rogers sounds frustrated in a way that causes Jim to suspect that they have had a few leads and none of them went anywhere.

“They’re a bunch of thugs operating from a basement,” Jim snaps. “How hard can it be to find them? Have Wolverine sniff their trail or something.”

“They didn’t leave any trail outside the building we found them in, might have used teleportation technology. Even Wolverine’s sense of smell can’t find them anywhere on the globe. Or on the moon.”

“So they have technology. Pretty advanced technology. Something like that always leaves traces. Tony could—”

“Tony could scan for them, yeah.”

“Not only Tony.”

“Listen, James, do you think we sit here all day twiddling our thumbs? We’re trying everything. A lot of people tried. It would be easier if we had Tony working on it, but with luck this’ll be over before he’s well enough to help.”

“Luck isn’t going to help you here.” Jim takes a deep breath. Anger isn’t going to help here either. He isn’t even angry at Rogers, not really. He’s frustrated because he’s stuck here and can’t do much to help find those assholes who hurt his friend, except have War Machine’s systems check the building for intruders nonstop and be there in case the guys come back for Tony.

And he suspects Rogers isn’t really angry with him either. He’s angry at the fact that Jim gets to be here and he doesn’t. Snapping at each other isn’t going to change that.

“Just promise you’ll let me know if you make progress. Or if you need armored help,” Jim finishes a lot calmer, even if it takes effort, and Rogers promises in the same tone that he will and asks Jim to do the same.

They hang up and Jim is left pondering how when Steve Rogers entered this relationship, he entered that club of people whose life and emotions circle around Tony Stark. And the emotions they get out of it are mostly pain, anger, worry, and fear for their lives. Really, why is anyone even friends with the guy?

Why would Jim still kill himself for Tony without hesitation after all the man has put him through?

It’s a silly thought, of course. Jim knows why. Maybe even better than Pepper, who just knows that she keeps coming back.

The question is, of course, if Rogers will come back. Not now, because this is not Tony’s fault. Not even a little. (Unless it turns out that he went with those people willingly and said “Please beat me up and fuck with my mind,” in which case Jim will simply murder him.) But eventually Tony will inevitably and well-meaningly fuck Rogers over, and then he’ll do it again, and eventually it’s going to be too much. Pretty quickly, probably. Last time they clashed it ended in a Civil War, and they weren’t even together then.

Last time was horrible enough for Tony. Now they are lovers, and Jim doesn’t doubt for a second that Tony really loves Steve. It’s been obvious for years, and the last couple of months, Tony has displayed the kind of tense radiance that comes from being incredibly happy and convinced it won’t last. The longer this thing with Rogers goes on, the more Tony settles into the relationship, the worse the inevitable fallout will be. Last time, fighting Rogers nearly destroyed him. This time it will.

And Jim is going to be damned if he’ll just stand by and let that happen. Thing is, he doesn’t know what to do about it. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, that thing has been going on in one way or another since the beginning of time. Jim wasn’t even surprised to hear it’s now actually something sexual. But it’s also a disaster waiting to happen and Tony has never had any self-preservation instincts when it came to people he loved. Even Jim has done, in anger, a few things he’s not proud of, and he knows Tony is simply incapable of holding a grudge. Hell, the guy offered jobs to people who tried to kill him because he felt sympathetic to their situations. He’s something else, and he’s the only one Jim can’t protect him from.

He’s distracted by the nurse shuffling through the room on her way out. There’s nothing worth mentioning, she says. Tony is asleep. He’ll feel better when he wakes up. Physically, at least.

Jim kind of dreads having to face him without Samson being there, without an excuse to fade into the background. But Samson isn’t here, won’t come back before tomorrow, and there’s a reason why they asked him to come, and why he agreed.

So he goes and opens the door a little bit so he’ll know if Tony needs him.

 

-

 

Tony doesn’t make a noise the rest of the evening. Jim checks in on him once, but Tony is fast asleep and Jim is careful not to wake him, even though getting food into that thin body would probably be a good idea. He goes to bed himself not much later, after checking his armor to see if it recorded anything worth noting. Nothing. Predictably.

As much as Jim would hate for Tony’s kidnappers to come anywhere near him again, a part of him wishes they would make the mistake of showing up here so he could blast them to kingdom come and give everyone one less problem to worry about.

The next morning he wakes up, surprisingly well rested after a good night’s sleep, and realizes that apart from his phone calls the day before, he hasn’t really talked to anyone in days.

It’s ridiculously early, but tired as we was, Jim barely stayed awake until ten. He makes his way through the large, silent penthouse to the kitchen, where he finds Tony fiddling with the coffee machine.

It shouldn’t be a shock: a man, standing in his kitchen making coffee, but it is. This is the first time in days—weeks, really—that Tony has moved around while left on his own, rather than curling into a ball trying not to freak out.

Now he’s standing there, his back turned to Jim, and he tenses up when he notices he’s not alone, and stills, but doesn’t turn around.

“Hey Boss,” Jim greets him, because really, what is he supposed to say?

He feels like he’s talking to a ghost.

But when Tony turns around, he’s very solid and real. And white as paper with messy hair and dressed in an oversized t-shirt Jim realizes with a pang probably belongs to Rogers. It’s half-slipped off his shoulder, revealing the fading bruises on his collarbone.

There’s a cup in Tony’s shaking hand, but it’s still empty. After a moment, Tony awkwardly places it on the counter next to him.

What he says “Rhodey,” it sounds a little choked.

“Yeah, me. How do y—” Jim stops talking when Tony comes over to him, looking at him for the first time ever and seeming both mesmerized and helpless. Suddenly his hand is on Jim’s cheek and feeling the warmth and the softness of his skin, Jim only thinks how he hasn’t shaved yet and his face is full of stubble.

For a moment, Tony looks lost. Then a million emotions seem to run over his face at once and for a long minute he looks like he’s going to cry (at which point Jim would simply have given up; he’s never developed any defenses against that). In the end, he takes his hand away and offers a shaky smile. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s stupid, I know. You’re… okay. Aren’t you?”

So maybe Jim is going to give up after all. “Yeah, I’m great. All fixed, remember?”

“Yeah.” Tony’s smile gets a little brighter. He actually looks relieved for a second, and his eyes are brimming with tears again. “You didn’t…” He falters, and looks down. “Hill,” he starts, makes a choked sound deep in his throat and looks down to mutter something that sounds like, “Make it look real.”

“What?” Jim asks, stupidly. There’s no answer, of course. There’s just Tony raising his hand and looking at it as if he were holding something. “I can’t, can’t,” he stammers, and then Jim pulls him close and holds him, even if it probably doesn’t help.

Tony is a little smaller than him. Not much—Jim doesn’t usually notice, and when armors are involved it doesn’t matter anyway, but there’s a height difference between them that is just so that Tony’s bent head fits perfectly into the crook of Jim’s neck.

They stand like that for a while, with Jim stroking Tony’s back and Tony trembling in his arms but not flipping out. Eventually, after a long time, he slumps even more and goes very still. “I want a drink,” he mumbles.

“I know.” Jim gives him one last pat, suddenly feeling awkward, and when they separate, he’s not sure if he stepped back or if Tony pulled away. He tries for a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing here.”

“No, I threw it all out,” Tony confirms. “After Sue was here.” He suddenly flinches and takes a step back, clutching one hand at the wrist and holding it against his chest.

“Tony?” Jim has no idea what he’s talking about. When Tony looks at him it’s with wide eyes, shocked and surprised. Like he doesn’t know where Jim is coming from all of a sudden. He turns around, taking in the sight of the room, the light falling in through the window and makes a helpless little sound somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Hey.” Without thinking, Jim wraps one arm around him from behind, uses the other hand to cover Tony’s eyes. Too late he realizes how threatening that might appear, but Tony doesn’t fight him. Tony doesn’t do much of anything but fall against him and breathe.

“That’s it. Deep breaths. You can do it. Come on, let’s go over here…” Jim is babbling as he guides his friend over to the couch, but his voice seems to calm Tony down some. When they get there, Tony curls into a ball with his head hidden between his arms and Jim lets him.

For a while he sits beside him, feeling like his body is made of lead and his thoughts as well. Then he gets up and goes to the kitchen to fetch the coffee Tony never finished getting. He places one steaming cup on the table beside the couch; maybe Tony will actually appreciate it in a while.

Tony is still curled up but no longer as tightly. His arms are resting beside his head and he’s staring blindly ahead. When Jim stops beside him, he asks, “What year is it?”

Jim gives the answer before his throat closes. Tony just nods, swallows, and closes his eyes.

chapter 3