”Vision! I’ve got a bandit on my six!”
Rhodey’s sharp yell jerks Tony out of his single-minded pursuit of the Quinjet Steve and Bucky are taking off in. He blinks and checks in with FRIDAY and, yeah, Falcon is hot on Rhodey’s heel, trying and…interestingly failing to shoot him down. Huh. Tony designed his gear better than that which means Sam’s actually trying not to hit home.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t annoying as hell.
”Vision!” Rhodey barks and Tony frowns. He turns to look back and sees the white beam shoot up from the tarmac, sees Falcon roll and feign sharply, sees the beam reach up up up straight to Rhodey.
He reacts without thinking, dives for Rhodey and collides with him, pushing him out of the way and taking the hit for himself instead.
The pain that erupts in his chest brings back sharp memories from the cave in Afghanistan and the way the electricity crackled from the car battery and into his chest. He screams in agony and tears at his chest, trying to stop the pain. Distantly, he realizes his suit is too quiet and he’s falling falling falling but his chest is being torn open and he’s back in the cave and it hurts and—
Then he hits the ground with a force that knocks him out cold, sends turf flying, and buries his suit several feet into the field.
He has no idea how long it’s been when he finally pries his eyes open. The ceiling above him is white, tiled with acoustic panels, and way too clean to be anything but the Compound infirmary. A distant, somewhat erratic sound beeps to his left and underneath that he hears several other machines humming and hissing.
He’s not surprised to see Pepper’s face appear in his field of vision.
”Hi,” she says softly. Her smile wavers and her eyes are red, and there’s a special kind of desperation underneath her tone that doesn’t bode well.
”How—” Tony croaks out, then nearly passes out from pain when he tries to cough around a sore throat. ”How long?”
She sniffs and busies herself with offering him ice chips. ”You were in a medically induced coma for five weeks,” she says. ”You…” She stops to compose herself, blinks rapidly, and smoothes her hands over her navy pencil skirt. ”You have a crushed chest cavity, two punctured lungs, concussion, multiple skull fractures, splintered pelvis, and…a spinal injury.”
He breathes for a moment, taking in his condition.
”Rhodey?” He asks.
She gives him a quick smile. ”He’s fine. He sprained his ankle when he crash-landed beside you.”
She reaches out and takes his hand, careful not to jostle any of the sensors or his IV-line. ”He blames himself,” she whispers. ”He’s been here every day, waiting for you to wake up and tearing you a new one.”
Tony can’t keep his eyes open so he lets them slid closed.
Rhodey is okay. That’s what counts.
The next time he fights his way into the surface through pain and nightmares, Rhodey is sitting beside him, furiously tapping away with his StarkPad, a deep frown between his brows. He looks up when Tony lets out a small sound and nearly drops the pad when their eyes meet.
”You fucking moron,” he says thickly. His hand trembles as he grips Tony’s forearm, the one with fewer bruises. ”Why did you do it?”
Tony blinks slowly. ”What do you mean?” He asks, his voice still slurred from exhaustion and painkillers.
”Why did you take the hit?” Rhodey asks slowly in a low voice. ”You could’ve died!”
”Worth it,” Tony says. ”For you.”
”No, it wasn’t!” Rhodey snaps, exasperated, shakes his head, and shoots up from his chair. ”You got yourself a spinal injury, Tones! You might never walk again!” He waves his hands and really, it’s a wonder he doesn’t send the StarkPad flying.
Tony chooses to close his eyes this time, even though he can feel he’s losing his focus already. ”Don’t need to walk when I can fly,” he mutters as he slips away again.
It goes on like that: he regains consciousness for short amounts of time, gets updates, and sleeps again. Gradually, he stays awake for longer times even though he’s not sure if it’s worth it. He has an army of physical and occupational therapists working with (and sometimes without) him, and what little coherent time he has in between, he has a friend keeping him company.
Mostly, it’s Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy and, somewhat surprisingly, Peter. Apparently, he pretty much camped outside his door and refused to leave until Pepper let him in. Oh, and he also came clean to his Aunt May about the whole spidey gig so that’s that.
Sometimes, Sam visits him and, on one occasion Tony doesn’t want to think too much about, Wanda and Vision came in only to leave when Tony had a panic attack and almost threw himself off the bed. They haven’t visited since.
He’s almost busy and exhausted enough to not think about Steve or Bucky.
Almost, but not quite.
Life goes on as life tends to do.
The Avengers are no more. The Compound gets turned from an Avengers training facility into…something Tony doesn’t want to think about. Rhodey is taking care of it so that he doesn’t have to. The Accords are quietly withdrawn for ”additional review” which Tony interprets to mean that now with Iron Man permanently out and Hulk officially off-world, Ross is happy. It grates him to realize it had been personal the whole time but perhaps it is for the best?
Something’s happening with the Wakandan King but Tony doesn’t want to hear about it.
There’s no going back to distracting himself with work like before but he does what little he can. His multiple traumas take time to heal and he’s quietly learning to accept the fact that he has a brain damage that affects his genius. Not much but enough so that he’s…Well, he’s not scared but he is worried.
He knows he got a flip phone in the mail months ago but he hasn’t opened it. There’s no point.
Thirteen months after the confrontation (or ”Civil War” as the so-called press dubbed the fight), he’s sitting on his favorite armchair, slowly working on his tablet when the screen goes black.
”FRIDAY?” He asks slowly.
”You have a video message,” FRIDAY says, her voice oddly hesitant. ”Would you like me to play it?”
”Who sent it?”
FRIDAY doesn’t answer but the silence is an answer itself.
”Delete it,” he says tiredly.
”I think you should watch it,” FRIDAY says. ”I already screened it, it’s fine.”
Tony closes his eyes and carefully rubs the base of his nose with his thumb. Headaches are a daily occurrence and he can already feel it coming. Lovely. ”Since when have you made my decisions for me?”
”Since the day you put me online,” FRIDAY says.
”Never should’ve done that,” Tony mutters. He leans his head back against the neck rest and shifts his weight slightly. The chair moves with him, reclining into a more comfortable position. ”Fine,” he says after a long moment. ”Play it.”
”Hi Tony,” Steve says. He sounds subdued and hesitant, but Tony doesn’t want to move the tablet to see his expression. ”I made this video because… Right. Yeah. Like ripping out a band-aid.” He pauses and lets out a sigh. ”There are so many things I want to say but the most important thing is this: I never, ever meant anyone to get hurt, least of all you. I wish things had gone differently but what’s happened has happened, and there’s nothing we can do about it now.
”Long story short: It was all a set-up. Our fight, staging Bucky, tearing apart the team, all of it. T’Challa knows everything and if you want to, he can fill you in on the details. He’s also agreed to represent Bucky in the upcoming Winter Soldier trial. Bucky wanted to—”
Steve pauses for a long moment. Tony is sure the file has ended when Steve continues, slower.
”There’s one thing you should know. The mission report Zemo wanted from Bucky? It was about your parents, Tony. While under HYDRA’s mind control, one of the Winter Soldier’s missions was to assassinate your parents. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before but—”
”Off,” Tony says flatly.
”Boss,” FRIDAY starts, but Tony stops her.
”No,” Tony snarls. ”Mute, basic functions only, authorization code Charlie Alpha Rio Beta Zero Nebraska Echelon Lima Lima One.” He lets out a breath, closes his eyes, and lets his head slowly loll to the side.
”No,” he repeats in a whisper. ”No more. He killed my mom.”