#fromthedeskofvpotts

[furyslefteye]

Thanks | Maria & Pepper

Maria arrived at Stark Industries to meet Pepper. Her attire was on point; she got her dry cleaning done the day before and she even did her hair. She had on a navy blue pantsuit, low heels, and a white button down shirt. It wasn’t much, but she felt powerful. Since Shield fell, she had gotten used to lounging around in her pajamas all day. She needed to take a break after that debilitating trial. She didn’t want to stay down for long. She couldn’t, not when she had such a limited timeframe to find a new job.

So she set up the meeting with Pepper. She brought along her entire resume and a gift bag with a bottle of champagne inside. It wasn’t much, but she also had no idea what to get someone who had everything. Gifts weren’t exactly her forte...

The receptionist let her in the office after she checked in. She was still a bit early, but that was better than being late. If Pepper wasn’t ready, she wouldn’t have let her in. Even though this was her first job interview in about seven years, she was very cool and collected. The two were friends, and Maria was honestly just as interested in catching up as she was about the interview.

“Morning, Pepper. It’s good to see you,” She said genuinely. Maria sat down across from her and put the gift bag on the table. “I got you something as a thank you for speaking at my trial. It’s the nicest champagne I could find without going overboard.”

She settled into her seat and continued, “I really can’t thank you enough. I’m sorry again about all those accusations.” Like about how she was stealing their resources. Not cool, not cool at all. It wasn’t true, but it still looked super shitty. She really wished Pepper and Tony didn’t stay the whole trial. It was embarassing enough knowing that her ex was a terrorist, but having other people know made it a hundred times worse. Hopefully that wouldn’t count against her credibility...

[thefuturistknows]

Deliverance | December 22, 2015

Pepper and Happy arrived in the afternoon.

By that point, Stark had taken a shower, changed clothes and shaved. He did it more for them than for himself, he figured that if Pepper was going to spend her holiday with him, then the least he could do for her was to not look and smell like a dumpster.

It didn’t mean a lot to him. It felt grimly like falling back to a status quo, actually, polishing the shell he used to pretend everything was fine.

Happy was the first one that spoke once Tony opened the door.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hey,” he replied with a quick, fake smile. “I’m not your boss.”

“I know, it’s, it’s – huh, habit.”

Pepper was actually standing in front of Happy. Tony couldn’t hold her gaze.

“I meant it as a figure of speech or – or, well, no, as a term of endearment – it’s a nickname?”

“Sure.”

“I always called you that.”

“I know,” Tony nodded. “It was just a comment.”

Pepper continued not to say anything. Tony hadn’t talked to her since the previous day – well, not directly, anyway, he’d sent her the video. He hadn’t expected to have to face them ever again after all of that, this was terribly awkward.

He stepped aside.

“Well, you’ve been here before. You know how the place works.”

Happy was the first one to move, he pushed past Pepper carrying her bag. He seemed anxious to leave the scene, and Tony didn’t exactly blame him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in New York?” Pepper asked.

(He didn’t want to risk being seen by people. He had an idea of what awaited him.)

“It’s probably going to take more than one trip to clean this place,” he said, sidestepping the original question.

“Right.”

“I mean, I figured – I assumed you’d want to –”

“Of course.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

He hesitated.

“You think I’ll change my mind.”

She hesitated.

“Of course not.”

He thought so too. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. His eyes were filling up.

“I’ll just be in the, uh –”

“Lab?”

“Bedroom.”

Pepper smiled.

“That’s better,” she said. “That’s better, you need to rest.”

There were armors in the lab. He still couldn’t bear to look at the armors.

He realized Pepper was clenching and unclenching her fists.

“You want to slap me,” Tony said. He looked into her eyes for the first time.

“What?”

“Or punch me, or scratch me, or… something. I mean…” He swallowed. “For yesterday.”

“No.”

“I think you should,” he continued. “If it’s going to help. If it makes it better. If it means that I’d get to –”

Pepper reached for both of his hands. Tony wasn’t looking at her anymore.

“– I’m sorry.”

She squeezed his hands.

“Thank God you’re okay.”

It’s the same thing she’d told him last morning.

“I’m not.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer. Maybe she wanted to hug him. But she stopped. She waited.

When Tony moved, it was to let go of her hands and step back.

“I’m going to be, uh –” He shoved his hands in his pockets, shook his head. “You know where I’ll be, I said it.”

He nodded, tried to smile, and stepped away, leaving Pepper at the door. He couldn’t breathe again until he was in the bedroom with the door closed behind his back.

He’d heard about how addiction made sober emotional interactions seem overwhelming, and he could definitely confirm this was true.

He wished Pepper would have held him, even though he couldn’t meet her halfway. He thought maybe she would have, before yesterday.

He thought maybe he broke something.

Pepper had come in with this talk of how she had arranged a tour of a rehab clinic for him tomorrow. She had wanted to go today, but Tony assured her he would be fine for the night. She went with it, likely because he didn’t argue against her plans for the next day.

Her plans, not Tony’s. He didn’t intend to go. Tomorrow he was driving back to New York for Aunt Peggy’s funeral. He’d find some way to do it. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

As for Tony’s real plan – that was simple. It didn’t have to be that complicated, he told himself. He would stay here, he would go through withdrawal, then he would go back to New York when he was ready to successfully pretend none of this had ever happened. He wasn’t going to drink ever again after this. The end.

By 9:00 PM that night, he had changed his mind.

He was sweating, his Pink Floyd T-shirt was sticking to his back. His hands were so unsteady he worried that he might not ever be able to hold precision tools ever again, and the thought made him extremely anxious.

Pepper was in the living room, reading a magazine. The TV was on.

He told her maybe they should go out and buy a new bottle of wine or champagne to – celebrate.

(He had secret stashes in the house. He didn’t tell Pepper about them.)

Because it was normal to drink socially. And Pepper was there with him, so this was “social.” And he was going to get better, so that was something to celebrate, right?

His whole problem was that he drank too much, he didn’t have limits, so he would just – give himself limits. Like, just one glass tonight. It was fine. It would be fine. He promised. It was something that everybody did. It was something that Pepper used to do with him during dates. It was fine! It would be fine. It was normal for other people, it would be normal for him.

“It can’t be normal for you, Tony.”

She sounded exhausted.

Tony was trying to look cool and reasonable, but he was hugging himself. He looked more wounded than objective.

“Why don’t you think I can do it?” He asked. “Why can’t you trust me? Why don’t you think I can control myself?”

(Well, because clearly he fucking couldn’t.)

Pepper didn’t say anything. She hadn’t looked up at him yet.

“Fifteen minutes,” she said eventually, flicking pages on the magazine.

“What?”

“It’s 9:00 PM. Let’s suppose we have a dinner reservation at 9:15. We’re driving over.”

Tony looked at her.

“A normal person would be able to wait fifteen minutes.”

“You’re testing me.”

Pepper shrugged.

Stark went back to the bedroom, invigorated by the solid short-term goal. Prove to Pepper that he could wait fifteen minutes. That was fine. He could do that.

He sat on the bed with his head on his hands.

It felt hellishly like captivity anniversaries, when he was trying to count minutes and line up events in his head like the task was crucial to his attempt to reconcile his entire life1.

Tony showed up in the living room again once the fifteen minutes were up. Pepper was still reading the same magazine.

“Ten more minutes,” she said. “The traffic is bad.”

“What?” Tony’s face fell. He shook his head. “No --”

“You have every right to be upset,” Pepper continued, seemingly unfazed. “I know how you get, you hate traffic, and you’re nervous about ruining dinner.”

She looked at him for the first time.

“That’s why you’d be upset, if you didn’t have a drinking problem.”

Tony swallowed.

He went back to the bedroom and picked one of the wristwatches in his closet. He came back with it in hand, and sat next to Pepper.

“Ten minutes are up.”

“We got to the restaurant, but our reservation is gone. It’s a forty-five minute wait.”

“We can wait in the bar.”

“It’s too crowded, I don’t want to go there.”

“I’m Tony Stark,” he gritted his teeth. “They won’t make me wait forty-five minutes. They’ll bump someone else back.”

“You’re Tony Stark,” Pepper put down the magazine. “You’re not gonna let that happen.”

“I’m Tony Stark. I’ll pick up the tab of whoever’s behind us in the line, they’ll be honored.”

Tony looked at Pepper, she looked back at him. She was the first one to blink.

“Five minutes,” she hissed. “For them to prep our table.”

Tony leaned back on the couch, eyes on his wristwatch. Pepper picked up her magazine again.

“How long has it been?” She asked.

“Two minutes.”

She waited a moment.

“A couple walks in. They have children.”

“It’s an open-bar restaurant, children aren’t allowed.”

“I never said it was that kind of restaurant.”

“I’m saying it.”

“I provide the scenario. You make the choices.”

Tony bit his tongue.

“It’s twins. A girl and a boy. The girl’s hair is actually shorter than the boy’s, because she’s in that phase where she wanted to test the scissors on her own hair.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I know,” Pepper smirked. “It’s adorable.”

“It’s imaginary,” Tony scoffed.

“Anyway,” Pepper continued. “The hostess calls your name. But so does the little girl, she recognized you. Her brother looks as well. Their parents are telling them not to point, it’s not polite. Normally they would have listened, because they’re good kids, but this time it’s you, and it’s their first time seeing a live superhero, so there’s some whining.”

Tony didn’t say anything.

“You’re Tony Stark,” Pepper said. “What do you choose?”

He swallowed.

“I pretend I didn’t see it. I go to our table.”

Because he was Tony Stark. The name felt bitter to him, again.

Pepper didn’t argue, but she bit her bottom lip.

“Five minutes until the drinks arrive.”

Stark focused on the watch again. Five more minutes, and then he would win this.

It didn’t feel like victory.

“Are the kids seated?” He asked.

Pepper immediately put the magazine away and turned her whole body to face him.

“No. Wait time is one hour.”

“I’ll go talk to them,” he tried. “After I get my drink.”

“The family will have left by then. One hour is a long time, they’re discouraged.”

“You can’t keep throwing those curve balls.”

“I can do whatever I want.”

Tony turned his body to face Pepper as well.

“You said five minutes until the drinks arrive. I’ll spend them with the wonder twins.”

Pepper almost smiled.

“The girl has this really long, convoluted, seventy-percent-made-up story about her dad, who is a pilot. It’s going to take her fifteen minutes to narrate the whole thing. Then her brother will want just as much attention, that’s another fifteen minutes.”

Tony closed his eyes. He had a headache, he felt disgusting.

“How long has it been since my last drink in that scenario?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Pepper said, raising her eyebrows. “You don’t have a problem, remember? You don’t think on those terms.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He looked to his watch again, and waited.

“Five minutes are up.”

Pepper didn’t move.

He covered his eyes with one hand.

“Pepper.”

No answer.

“Pepper, please.”

Silence.

“Just one dose of anything, it’s not going to hurt me.”

She clicked her tongue.

“It’s not going to hurt me more than being without it.”

Tony finally felt Pepper moving on the couch. He dropped his hand. She had picked up the magazine again, it was open on her lap. Her eyes were glassy.

“I think,” she started, “I think that you would have listened to the wonder twins talking for half an hour.”

He exhaled. He looked at the watch again.

“At least.”

“Pepper.”  

“You would have told me it would only take a minute. Then you would have stayed there. It would be endearing to watch for the first ten minutes. But then –”

Pepper was the one who exhaled shakily this time.

“Then, what?”

“I’d resent you.”

“What?”

“You never have time for me, and when date night finally works out, this happens.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You could come with me.”

“I wish you were talking to our kids. But I know you don’t want children, and I know I don’t want children either,” she swallowed. “I mean. Rationally. Just like you.”

Tony was silent. He wasn’t sure where this was going anymore.

“Maybe I’d been expecting you to propose.”

It hit him that his… failed proposal anniversary was in two days2.

To her, anyway. The proposal failure was two years old for him. He’d almost done it before3. But he hadn’t, because he knew he shouldn’t.

“But you didn’t, this was just a regular date, that as usual, ended up going terribly wrong.”

Tony cleared his throat and looked away.

Well, if the game was meant to make him feel terrible about himself, then this thought experiment was clearly succeeding –

“And wonderfully right.”

He looked up. Pepper was looking down to the magazine, smiling a little bitterly.

“Because it’s so you, I mean. It’s so Tony Stark. You probably don’t even know it’s been thirty minutes since you went away. And I love you for it. I loved you when I found out you left me in the balcony to go save a city. I loved you when you asked me to help you defeat Stane by pushing the button that might have killed you. I loved you when you left me alone in the planet the day you disappeared into a black hole.”

Tony swallowed, and looked away.

“And I would have loved you for leaving me waiting because you didn’t have the heart to stop the wonder twins from talking. Because that is what all of this looks like when the armor is not making it super-strong, super-impenetrable, and super-human. It just looks like your heart is carrying you away.”

Pepper looked at him this time. He dropped his gaze again.

“I could accept losing you to that. I can see how that’s what’s bound to happen in the end. I could move on. I could be perfectly happy. I’m strong enough. God, it’s been a year –”

Tony wanted to take her hand that was closest to him, but Pepper pulled it up to massage her forehead, closing her eyes.

“What I can’t accept is losing you to something that’s destroying you. You’re not the destroyer, Tony, you’re not the monster of this story. You never were. You’re the one who’s being destroyed. And you’re the only one who can fight it.”

He hugged himself tighter, and shifted on his seat.

Pepper cleared her throat to recompose herself.

“The waiter just got here with the wine list, and the couple is about to leave with the wonder twins.”

He wanted to throw up.

“You’re Tony Stark. What do you choose?”

Tony could tell himself he believed in Pepper’s story for a few hours.

How successful was he? Well, enough to convince Pepper. But not enough to spark up anything new in him. Back at square one: he would get clean, and then he would get back to New York in time to pretend nothing had ever been wrong, and he would never drink again.

He started getting worse through the night. Pepper didn’t want him to leave her sight. She wanted to call a doctor. Tony kept using fake promises to deflect her. He would go to the clinic tomorrow, it would be fine.

Pepper herself was exhausted. Tony could tell. She probably hadn’t blinked an eye since Rhodey, and she had actually gone to work since then. She eventually started giving him warnings – “If I fall asleep, and you need me, please wake me up. I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.”

Stark waited for her to fall asleep on the couch. He had absolutely no plans of waking her.

He went to his bedroom instead, and locked the door behind him. He knew this was stupid, but it was his usual M.O. He was more comfortable going through these things behind the scenes.

He lay down on the bed, tried watching some TV. He made it until almost 3:00 AM before that time came, even for him – and boy, did it come for him – when he had to allow his body to make every almost inhuman sound it wanted to make. He would have never thought himself capable of making them.

By 4:00 AM, he was dry-heaving in the bathroom.

He was going to have to be pragmatic about this. There was no way in any hell he would be able to attend Aunt Peggy’s funeral in this state.

Clearly he would have to be drunk for it.

Focus. New plan. He was going to drink, but he would do it completely in secret. This was nobody’s business, anyway. And it wasn’t forever, just for as long as it took for him to figure something else out. He needed to be able to function. It would be just like when he was dying of palladium poisoning, it was fine, no one had to know. It was fine.

Tony crawled to the cupboard under the bathroom sink, opened it, pushed aside a few unopened bottles of shampoo and aftershave, and there it was. One out of seven bottles he had hidden in unexpected places. It wasn’t the good stuff, just cheap Jack Daniel’s, but it would suit his purposes.

He grabbed the edge of the sink, to give himself leverage to stand up. If he was going to do this for pragmatic, dignified reasons, then he was going to do it standing.

He caught his reflection in the mirror.

Why the fuck did this have to keep happening?

He let go of the sink and hit the mirror with the side of his fist. It cracked.

Tony hugged his stomach with one arm, doubled over, lost his balance and fell to the floor again. He hit his head on the edge of the sink in the process.

Stark men are made of iron, his dad used to say. But there he was, he was crying.

Proof that Tony Stark has a heart, Pepper wrote. Maybe, but it was weak and rotten and toxic.

Steve had come back for him. Steve believed in him.

This was never going to work. The last thing anyone would ever remember about Tony is how much he had disappointed them.

He just kept lying and lying and lying, lying about how he would get better, lying about how disgusting he felt. He kept building up people’s hopes just in time to tear them down, he didn’t know what he was doing.

“Oh, God, what am I going to do?” He mouthed the question to himself, hugging his knees against his chest and pressing his forehead against them.

It always came down to this question. He’d asked it to himself during captivity, when he was done building the arc reactor, he asked it to himself after New York, when the thought of the experience started to overwhelm him4.

Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark?

You’re Tony Stark. What do you choose?

How is it that other people managed to say his name like it stood for something strong?

Don’t disappoint me, Anthony5.

His father, on the other hand, had always known how to make his name sound like a statement of imminent failure.

(His mother called him “darling.” “Tesoro.” “Antonio.”)

Weak. Coward. He could feel everything now.

(His dad was drunk, Tony told himself. He was drunk.)

Idiot. Brat.

Hopeless case.

If I dropped him on the side of the road he wouldn’t know how to feed himself, he’d cry his way into starvation or until someone picked him up6.

He lifted his head and picked up the bottle again, pushed his back against the wall and stretched his legs.

He felt pretty dropped on the side of the road and there wasn’t a single bit of his father’s statement that hadn’t turned out to be true.

He’d even wondered about starvation.

God, he couldn’t even be picked up. People kept trying to pick him up and he kept falling back down.

How had he managed to be even worse than his dad had predicted? How had he managed be even worse than his father himself? He’d never seen Howard crying or begging and falling and whimpering and moaning –

He’d never seen his father go through this.

Not successfully, anyway. He was a drunkard up until he died.

Tony’s arm was raw from compulsive scratching, but he stopped.

It was kind of obvious what this was. Thinking about it. All of this, it was withdrawal. He knew what it meant in biological terms, he was cutting off the supply of something his body had become dependent on. He was readjusting. It was obvious. That was obvious. It was a stage.

He remembered it. That one moment in the cave.

This isn’t a prison door.

This is an obstacle.

Tony Stark thrived in overcoming obstacles, and that door would be no different.

It would be overcome7.

He crossed his legs.

Neck long. Back straight against the wall.

(“It’s hurting me,” he’d told Yinsen. “I know. Straighten your back.” “It’s hurting me!” “Do as I say.”)

(“Try to relax. I will show you how you need to breathe.”)

Tony closed his eyes.

Diaphragmatic breathing8.

“Pepper.”

She opened her eyes, then started awake, immediately sitting up. It might have been because his face was so close to hers, he had to kneel by the couch. He couldn’t stay standing for too long.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I fell asleep. I’m so sorry –”

“It’s okay.”

“Oh, God, Tony, your arms –”

“It’s fine.”

She looked at him.

Tony hesitated before he said, “Pepper, I think I’ll need a doctor first thing in the morning.”

She seemed startled that he’d ask that. He didn’t blame her. He kind of was too.

“I’m not feeling well,” he barely mouthed the words of explanation. And when that was out there, tears started gathering in his eyes. “I made my choice. I don’t want to ruin it just because I’m hurting.”

He wanted to be better.

He got to the bottom him, and that’s what he found there. He wanted to be better. He was willing to do anything. He was willing to go through this in ways that his father never could.

He was going to find his own definition of strength.

And he was going to breathe.

(Dead for over five years. Still teaching him to breathe.)

God, he was going to stop drowning, and start breathing.

PAST DRABBLE REFERENCES

1. “It felt hellishly like captivity anniversaries, when he was trying to count minutes and line up events in his head like the task was crucial to his attempt to reconcile his entire life.” Each year on May 3rd, the day he was captured, Tony tries to retrace his own past steps in his head in fruitless attempts to piece together the exact time of death of the soldiers that were with him in the Humvee. (A Heartbeat Drives You Mad) http://thefuturistknows.tumblr.com/post/84882085637/a-heartbeat-drives-you-mad-self

2. “It hit him that his… failed proposal anniversary was in two days.” Tony proposed to Pepper on Christmas of 2014. (I Hope My Love Can Blind You) http://thefuturistknows.tumblr.com/post/106153230323/i-hope-my-love-can-blind-you-christmas-2014

3. “The proposal failure was two years old for him. He’d almost done it before.” Tony intended to propose to Pepper on Christmas of 2013, but he ended up donating the ring he had bought her and she never learned about it. (Christmas Miracles) http://thefuturistknows.tumblr.com/post/71193399132/christmas-miracles-writing-challenge-5

4. “It always came down to this question. He’d asked it to himself during captivity, when he was done building the arc reactor, he asked it to himself after New York, when the thought of the experience started to overwhelm him.” (Flowers for a Ghost) http://thefuturistknows.tumblr.com/post/110799275822/flowers-for-a-ghost-pepper-drabble

5. “Don’t disappoint me, Anthony.” Howard’s last words to Tony, spoken over the phone when Tony was in London taking an active Stark Industries role for the first time, two days before the accident on December 17th, 1989. (Remember December) http://thefuturistknows.tumblr.com/post/83077154753/remember-december-one-shot-flashback

6. “If I dropped him on the side of the road he wouldn’t know how to feed himself, he’d cry his way into starvation or until someone picked him up.” Seven-year-old Tony overheard his parents arguing about whether or not he should be sent to boarding school. (Flowers for a Ghost) http://thefuturistknows.tumblr.com/post/110799275822/flowers-for-a-ghost-pepper-drabble

7. “This isn’t a prison door. This is an obstacle. Tony Stark thrived in overcoming obstacles, and that door would be no different. It would be overcome.” (Iron Man by Peter David, p. 75)

8. “Diaphragmatic breathing.” When Tony was in pain following the arc reactor surgery and the waterboarding, Yinsen took his time to teach him a more effective and less painful way to breathe. (A Goodnight Song for the Restless) http://thefuturistknows.tumblr.com/post/78003967784/a-goodnight-song-for-the-restless-writing

[the-devil-without-fear]

Making a Deal With the Devil| Pepper and Matt

“So let me get this straight; you spoke to Virginia Potts.” Foggy stood in the middle of the office, waving his submarine sandwich almost accusingly at Karen. She raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh, yeah? That’s what I just-“ 

“The Virginia Potts.” 

“Foggy-“ 

“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US UNTIL NOW?” 

“You were out getting lunch; I figured I’d wait until you got back-” 

“Screw lunch, Karen, this is huge!  Matt, tell her how huge this is!” 

Matt paused in hanging his jacket by the door. The summer heat made the office way too stuffy for a full suit, despite the insane amount of fans set up throughout the space. The vibrations were driving him crazy, but it was better than the alternative at least. “I actually don’t know who that is, Foggy.”

His partner whirled towards him, targeting Matt as the new focus of his lunch time rant. Foggy’s weapon of choice crinkled in its wrapper as he threw his arms up. “How do you not know her? She’s mentioned at least once, in like, every magazine there is!"

“I uh, I don’t read a lot of tabloids.” Most of his news came from the local station in Hell’s kitchen, and he mainly kept to the headlines. Fortunately, he had pop culture knowledgeable friends to fill him in on what he’d missed. 

“Virginia Potts is CEO of Stark Industries,” Karen explained, and Matt vaguely remembered hearing about the promotion a few years back. It was pretty by  interesting at the time, how Stark stepped down and gave the position to his personal assistant. At least until an alien army attacked Manhattan and the whole Avengers incident happened. “A while back there was a lot of drama in the papers about her and Tony Stark’s breakup. Paparazzi photos, mistress rumors, the whole thing. Not important. What is important, however, is that Potts is interested in hiring you two to represent the company.” Matt could practically feel the huge smile radiating off of Karen’s face, even if he couldn’t see it. 

“Oh my god. This could be our first big client! We could afford air conditioning, Matt.” Foggy was practically shaking the vigilante as he grabbed his shoulders. “Oh! We could get real office chairs. Those cushy ones that are 1000% times better than the shit wood ones we have now.” 

The lawyer had to admit, those chairs sounded amazing. “Alright, alright. We haven’t even gotten the job yet,” Matt said, but he was smiling all the same.  

“When’s the meeting?”

Stark Industries incorporated way more glass into its design than Matt could possibly deal with. He couldn’t see through it, and because the lobby was absolutely full of it, the lawyer had no goddamn idea where anything was beyond the receptionist’s desk. The trip would have been easier with Foggy, but he’d been dragged into some sort of last minute family event. The whining had been almost unbearable. 

Matt felt his way over to the desk with his cane, and smiled pleasantly in the general direction of the secretary. “Excuse me, I have an appointment with Virginia Potts?” he asked.

[justatrainingexercise]

The Shortest Day // One-Shot

He didn’t dream. He wasn’t convinced he’d slept, even; he remembered, distinctly, the hand reaching into his chest, the screaming pain, his body hitting the ground so hard his bones seemed to rattle in his skin while his mind was still six steps behind trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened...

And then he tried to call for Tony’s position, but instead of opening his eyes to the HUD and finding himself enveloped in metal, he was blinded by searing white light and struggling against cheap cotton sheets, and the best he could manage was deep, painful coughing as punishment for trying to work his lungs so hard so soon. The fight for air forced him to sit up, but even over his own gasping and choking, he heard someone speaking to him. 

Pepper. Pepper was seated on the bed next to him, holding a glass of water, and standing behind her was Steve.

Tony wasn’t there. 

He shook his head at Pepper and pointed past her, to the purse she’d left in her seat across the room. If Tony wasn’t here, he was probably trying to catch Vision by himself  --

Pepper didn’t follow, and Rhodey still couldn’t get his chest to calm the fuck down. He made the universal hand symbol for “phone,” and that did the trick, but it was Steve who dropped a phone in his hand.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

Shit. How long had he been out? He felt as though he’d swallowed a quart of mica and chased it with battery acid. He dialed Tony, then accepted the water from Pepper and drained half of it as he put the phone to his ear. It didn’t ring but went directly to Tony’s voicemail.

“Where’s Tony?”

Pepper and Steve exchanged glances. They didn’t know.

“We don’t know,” Pepper said. “He disappeared this morning.”

Jim wasn’t even sure what morning it was, but he knew Tony. Tony didn’t disappear unless some part of him wanted to be found; Jim just needed a lead.

“Either of you have an Avengers comm?”

Steve did. Jim accessed the server, and there it was: a video message from Tony, tendering his resignation and otherwise offering assurances that he was fine. Following that was a video for Steve and Thor, but Jim only half-listened, interested solely in an indication of where he was. One of his own residences, clearly, at least at the time of recording the video, but all of them had laboratories...

JARVIS. Steve had primary access to JARVIS.

Or -- Steve had gotten a private message. Jim would bet Pepper had, too. If Tony would tell anyone outright where he was, surely it would be her.

“You have yours?” he asked her. She retrieved it, and they watched through the first video again to see what may come after.

“I’m in the Hamptons house.” 

Rhodey nodded sharply to himself -- and to Tony -- and made to sit up next to Pepper. She reached for him, and he was just starting to nudge past her when Tony caught his attention again.

“I’m fine. I’m safe.”

No, you’re not.

“I mean, you know where I am so you know I’m not lying. I just – I made my choice, and you did all you could. You did all you could, but no matter what you do, there’s a part that needs to come from me, and it won’t, I won’t. I won’t deliver it. I can’t.”

You can and you will, goddammit

“I never will, and, that’s done, and, I’m being honest, so – please, respect that, and just – don’t come here.”

“Like hell I won’t.” He was almost surprised to hear himself speak.

“You were always the best part of me, I need you to know that. And Rhodey, you need to go watch the God damn Star Wars movie, I mean, seriously, I told you we should have gone on the 18th – anyway, just go see it. Please. Please. I’m so sorry.”

Not yet you aren’t, Jim thought, followed immediately by, Me, too.

“I’ll go get him,” Steve said. Jim managed not to click his tongue -- he’d almost forgotten Steve was there -- and made to stand again.

“Thanks, Cap, but I got this.”

Or not, as the nurse would have it. And Pepper seemed okay with sending Steve, so despite every fiber of Jim’s body screaming for him to be the one to find his best friend, he finally conceded that he probably wasn’t in any shape to leave the hospital yet, if only because he’d then be throwing stones from a glass house if he tried to talk to Tony about reckless self-endangerment tonight. When the nurse finally left to fetch a doctor, Jim beckoned Steve over.

“He’s going to try to deflect and tell you he’s fine. Do not leave that house until you are certain he’s safe.”

Steve nodded, and somehow, that inflamed Jim’s frustration further. He knew, probably better than Steve did, how Tony looked up to Steve, how one of Tony’s deepest fears was disappointing people, and how Steve was reportedly pretty upfront about his disappointment to the point of being (almost?) self-righteous -- if not Jim, then Pepper should go, but she didn’t interject, so Jim decided to make the parameters very clear.

“And don’t make it worse.”

He felt Pepper watching Jim as Jim watched Steve, but she didn’t speak until after Steve had gone.

“You’re not why he’s gone.”

Jim frowned. She leaned over to help him adjust the bed and pillows so he could sit upright, and then she took a seat next to him.

“I know I’m not. I didn’t ask the ghost robot to stop my heart -- ”

She shook her head but didn’t meet his eye. Jim settled a hand over hers.

“What happened?”

Her eyes were shining when she looked back to him, took a breath, and began recounting the events of that morning.

[thefuturistknows]

You Must Know Life to See Decay | December 17, 2015

And I won't die alone, and be left there. Well, I guess I'll just go home, Oh, God knows where. Because death is just so full, and man so small. Well, I'm scared of what's behind, and what's before. And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears. And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. Get over your hill and see what you find there, With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

He woke up sitting by the toilet (again), back against the wall and forehead resting on his bent knees.

First thought, worst thought: God, I need a drink. He had missed the toilet yesterday when he threw up, at least initially, he could assume that thanks to a small puddle and drops on the floor. They weren’t too far away from the vomit that had missed the toilet last time, and that Tony knew because he hadn’t cleaned the floor and he could still see the dried traces of his bile on it. The fresh batch from last night would probably suffer the same fate. The rug he was sitting on was putrid beyond saving as well.

This bathroom was a mess, he was disgusted with himself. Still, the only personal desire he seemed to have motivation to act on first thing in the morning was the desire for liquor in whatever form.

He started by filling the glass with ice, to dilute the scotch a bit, like maybe that would help him cheat himself out of drinking too much in the morning – weird how the last shreds of hope that he still had would show up in moments like these – but then, JARVIS got started on the morning updates about the weather and such.

December 17th.

Tony’s threw the ice in the sink so he could fill the whole glass.

He managed to find a parking space right in front of his usual flower shop. Normally he would call it luck, but today he called it a terrible cosmic joke because he knew just how drunk he was and he remembered how he’d promised himself, a long time ago, that he’d never see his mother when he was drunk – and he’d broken that promise several times, but he’d figured he’d have the decency not to do this on her death anniversary, of all days.

(Clearly his response to regret was to drink more from his flask while sitting inside the car contemplating the seemingly unstoppable dirty inertia of his life.)

Truthfully, he didn’t want to go to the grave yard this year. He wasn’t feeling particularly respectful. Funny, after he’d moved to New York with Pepper and started visiting his parents’ graves yearly, he did wonder how come he’d managed to ditch the remorse of not visiting them for so many years while he was living in California, and yep, this was it. Now he remembered. This was precisely it, he felt like his legs were more likely to take him to a club than to the flower store right across the street from where he was parked.

He hated the feeling.

He didn’t look both ways before crossing the street, didn’t mind the way drivers blew their horns in response. He didn’t stop until he was standing in front of the window of the shop.

Tony knew his mom had loved him. Maybe that was the worst part. Of all the ways he could disappoint her, this – this, the way he’d turned out, the flask in the pocket of his coat was already a quarter empty – this was unbearable.

He took a step back and away from the window. Then another. He was about to turn his back when he chanced to look further to the side and catch sight of a young woman sitting there with her back against the wall of the building next to the flower store. There was a McDonald’s cup in front of her, she was begging for money.

Tony approached the window again, biting his thumb nail through the leather of his gloves.

“What flowers do you like?” He asked, loud enough for her to hear.

The woman didn’t answer at first, but Tony locked eyes with her so she’d know he was talking to her. Then he nodded to the window.

“I was thinking about buying, like – pink roses.”

She didn’t say anything at first. Stark dropped his hand into his pocket.

“Who are they for?”

“Someone who will never forgive me.”

The woman snorted.

“You fucking cheated on her, it figures.”

Tony swallowed. “It’s my mom, she’s been dead for twenty-six years.”

“Oh.”

“Pink roses were her favorites.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He kept looking silently at the window. There was no indecision keeping him here, just a longing he couldn’t act on.

“For what it’s worth,” the young woman started, “She may not be able to forgive you, but since she’s dead, I really doubt you can still hurt her.”

Tony’s forehead creased, and he actually turned his head to look at the woman this time. He couldn’t help a sardonic chuckle.

“Please don’t ever write Christmas cards.”

She shrugged.

Tony walked out with a couple dozen pink roses, wrapped in festive paper and tied together with a white ribbon. He walked over to where the woman from before was still sitting, and offered her the bouquet. She stared up at him, quizzically. Her eyes were young and sharp. She was probably in her late twenties.

“I got them for you,” he pointed out, in case it wasn’t clear.

“I thought they were for your mother.”

“I don’t know if she’d like them from me today,” he answered, feeling his voice thicken for the first time. “She doesn’t like much of anything, like you said, she’s dead.”

“I don’t need flowers either.”

“Nobody needs flowers,” he swallowed. “But some people get to want them. Do you want them?”

The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

“Like a Christmas present.”

“I don’t do Christmas.”

“Happy Holidays, like, in general, then.”

She finally accepted the bouquet. Tony smiled, then promptly sat by her, cross-legged.

“What on earth do you want?”

“I want to take you somewhere, my car is over there.” Her eyes widened and she motioned to stand up. “No, I mean, not in a creepy way, I just know this shelter that’s not far –”

She scoffed, and suddenly the bouquet was on his lap.

“Is it a money thing?” Tony asked. “Because we also run job placement programs that could help you earn –”

She was glaring at him. He’d said something wrong.

“You think I haven’t tried everything, you think I chose –”

Definitely said something wrong.

She pushed aside the spare jacket she’d been using to cover her lower body and revealed just how pregnant she was.

“You think anyone’s prepared to hire me now, hotshot?”

Tony cleared his throat. His eyes focused on the empty travel-sized bottle of no-brand liquor that slipped from underneath the jacket when she moved it.

“It’s probably not gonna help if you spend your money on –”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m not trying to – I’m just saying it because I know that that’s what I would –”

“Of course Iron Man would,” she sneered. She’d recognized him. Suddenly Tony felt a million times more self-conscious. “A walking billion-dollar bill –”

“Billion-dollar bills don’t exist –”

“– clearly knows jack shit about counting dimes to afford rent and food –”

“What I was saying is even if I had nothing, I still would –”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she hissed. “Because the world isn’t your playground when you have nothing –”

“I’d do it because I’m a drunk!”

The girl closed her lips. Stark looked down and started fidgeting with the stem of one of the flowers.

“I saw the bottle and I jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry,” he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s the first thing I always notice. Anywhere, I’m sorry.”

“Even if I was a – which, I don’t know, I’m –”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’d still need the money.”

They were both silent for a moment. The paper wrapping the roses made cracking noises as Tony fiddled with it.

“You mentioned rent,” he said eventually. He reached for his checkbook inside the pocket of his jacket.

“You carry your checkbook with you?”

“It’s for situations like these.” Tony still wasn’t looking at her. The first thing he did was sign the check, his thigh was the closest thing to a flat surface he had available. “How much do you want?”

The woman hesitated.

“Three… months… worth.”

“More ambitious. I was thinking like – five.”

“Months?”

“Years.”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “Five months.”

“Four years.”

“One year.”

“Three?”

Silence.

“Okay.”

“How much is that?”

“Per month, it’s –”

“No, just – give me the total.”

“Why? I don’t know –”

“I trust you.” His eyes met hers when he looked to the side. “And I want you to feel free to ask for extra without my being able to tell.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he looked down again. “And I wouldn’t know.”

Stark waited for a moment, no response.

“Do you need a calc--”

The girl chuckled.

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

Tony nodded, pouting contemplatively.

After filling in the value, he ripped out the check and handed it over to the woman.

“You just need to put in the recipient. What’s your name?”

She took the check from him, wide-eyed.

“Gretel.”

“Do you need my pen, or will you do it later?”

She looked at him.

“I was – I was kidding,” she started. “About the twenty thousand dollars. It was a joke, I didn’t think – I can’t take this.”

“Uh, I already spent some time on it.”

“I was testing you.”

“I made my handwriting special, I don’t want to waste that.”

“No! Oh my God.”

“Yes!” Tony tried smiling. “Please. And then you get to go back home, right, at least for today. It’s cold.”

“It’s not that cold.”

“I know, the weather’s so weird this year.”

Tony grabbed the bouquet of roses with one hand and then stood up, offering Gretel his free hand. She took it and he helped her up, stood by her while she adjusted her spare jacket on one arm. He offered the flowers when she was ready.

She hesitated, but eventually took them.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him.

“I’m sorry I was clueless.”

She kept smiling. Her eyes were a little glassy. Tony smiled back.

“I’m just going to –” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to – go now, I’ll… Go.”

“Sure. Have a nice one.”

“Thank you.”

She hesitated, then turned around, and started walking away. She turned on her heels again at one point, realized that Tony was still looking and spared him a nervous smile and a flustered wave. Then she turned her back, and seemed to be texting someone as she turned around the corner.

Stark’s smile faded, and he pressed his back against the wall. He eventually sat down again, on some steps nearby, because that gave him a better angle to support his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. He closed his eyes and massaged his temple with his fingers until he felt a careful poke on his shoulder. It was Gretel.

“Hey,” she said.

“Is something wrong?”

“I think you should keep them.”

She offered him the flowers again, he smiled sadly up at her.

“They’re yours. And I don’t like being handed things.”

Gretel pulled the roses closer to her body and looked down at them, then back to Tony.

“I wasn’t sure I’d still find you here,” she said. “Why haven’t you gone? Can’t you go home?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Somewhere else?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t feel like going anywhere.”

“Doing… something?”

It was hard to keep the smile plastered on his face.

“I don’t feel like doing anything, I’m just –” Fading. “Waiting for someone.”

“Oh. Okay.” Gretel smiled. She bought into the lie. “Okay, so, I’ll go. I mean, for good.”

Tony nodded.

Halfway down the street, she turned around and came back again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “One more thing – you are Iron Man, right? I’m not getting that wrong.”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Stark expected her to ask for an autograph or a picture, but instead she just said, “Howard Stark was your father, right. And your mom –”

“Maria.”

“I knew that. Aren’t they buried here? In New York?”

Tony nodded.

“Okay.”

Gretel stepped away.

“She’d have forgiven you,” she said. “She’d have liked the flowers.”

Tony smiled.

“She can’t see them.”

“She would have liked them.”

Stark ended up retreating into his car. He sat there for hours until he decided to buy more roses. His flask was empty, and he took the subway to the cemetery instead of driving.

He still didn’t want to go, but he thought he had to, like it was some form of penance. He spent the entire ride apologizing inside his head.

As he walked down the cobblestone path leading to where his parents laid buried, he was also confronted with the sheer meaninglessness of it all, the fact that he was just torturing himself and his parents weren’t keeping score because they were dead. He would never be able to settle any of this. He’d become everything Maria hadn’t wanted him to become, and it didn’t even matter, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t even there. She wasn’t even watching. His life was his own worst nightmare and she wasn’t watching over him.

Other people had left them flowers as well. That wasn’t surprising, Tony knew that there were others who remembered December 17th. Plus, Howard and Maria’s gravesite was a bit of a touristic spot, he guessed.

Something specific caught his attention, though. A couple of pink roses, tied together with a white ribbon identical to the one on the bouquet he was carrying. He knew they were from Gretel.

Stark bit into his lower lip, and blinked back his tears.

Damn it. He wanted to thank her. But all he had was a first name he wasn’t sure how to spell, and no last name. Maybe he could track her after she’d cashed the check. He could track her using Extremis. Maybe –

He tried heading to the chapel. She wasn’t there anymore, that was way too much to hope for – but he could tell that she’d been there because of the pink rose on the altar.

Tony took a deep breath. Considered praying. He was desperate enough for it, wasn’t he, but then he decided against it because he was also too desperate to believe it would work. But he went to the stand with the little candles people could light for themselves, and decided to put one up, because well, he was already there anyway.

Next to the wood box for donations, there was an open notebook with a plastic pen resting on its spine. The heading was asking the reader to “share his prayers with our brothers and sisters” – he supposed that the intent was to get people to pray for one another’s wishes.

He skimmed the first few pages, even if he wasn’t entirely sure that was appropriate. For my brother. For my mother. Eric’s health. Kendra Anderson’s soul. For the children in the world.

Tony grabbed the pen, and turned to the last page. He hesitated, considering his options.

First thing in his mind was “peace.” For my peace. That I may find peace. Sounded atrocious.

Happiness. Love.

Rest.

That something will put me out of my misery. Painlessly. Soon.

God.

He dropped the pen, and blew out the candle he’d lit previously – extinguishing the flames of two other random candles in the process.

“You’ve got to be fucking –”

He heard a gasp.

“You can’t blow out the candles!”

Tony looked to the side, and then down. The kid who talked wasn’t even tall enough to reach Stark’s waistline.

“It was an accident.”

“You can’t do it.”

“I know, it’s bad.”

The little boy nodded.

Stark looked towards the pews. There was only one more family in the chapel, he assumed it was the boy’s. They were in prayer.

“Ever lit one of those before?”

“Are you…”

“Iron Man? Yes,” Tony held out his hand. “Help me fix this situation.”

The kid took his hand, and laughed when Tony picked him up.

“Gabe!” A woman suddenly cried out from the pews.

Tony turned.

Fuck. Okay.

“I’m not kidnapping him, hi, it’s Tony Stark,” he smiled. “Iron Man. As in, the Avengers. You can check my ID –”

“It’s Iron Man, mom, I’ll help him fix the candles.”

“He was helping me fix the candles.”

When all of it was settled, Tony turned to the stand with the candles again.

“Let’s put like, two more to make up for the slight.”

“You have to pay.”

Gabe was hooked to his side, and Tony picked up his checkbook and wrote a check for one hundred dollars with his free hand. Gabe was the one who helped him rip off the page, fold it, and place it in the box for donations.

“Okay, I think I bought at least four candles.”

He lined them up on the stand, then picked up one of the wooden sticks they had available. He gave it to Gabe, and helped steady his hand as he lit up the tip of the stick and used the flame to light the other candles.

“Be careful with the ones I ruined, they’re the special ones. Hey.”

“What?”

“Don’t ever let strangers pick you up like this, all right?” Gabe nodded. “Watch the fire. There we go.”

“What about that one?”

“That one’s mine. I was going to get rid of it, it’s fine.”

“You can’t do that to the candles.”

“It’s okay.”

“I want to light it!”

“Gabe.”

It was his mother’s disapproving tone. Gabe was being noisy. This time, he just whispered, “I want to light it.”

Tony whispered back. “Okay.”

He looked at the prayer notebook while Gabe struggled with the candle.

Something caught his attention, halfway through the page. His name.

For the baby, Tony Stark, and those in need of forgiveness.

“I did it!”

Tony swallowed, and looked up to the candle again.

“You did. Great, that was –” He cleared his throat. “Nice job. You saved the day.”

“Are you almost crying?”

“No. No, I just, uh –” He took the stick from Gabe’s hand, and put it back in place. “Help me write something in the book now?”

“I can’t write.”

“Don’t tell me your problems,” Tony pouted teasingly as he handed Gabe the pen. “Draw a picture, it’ll be fine.”

“What do I draw?”

“First, do something for you and for mommy. Like your Christmas wish.”

“Not the one I asked Santa, but the one God gives, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I know all my prayers.”

Tony smiled. “Good job.”

“Some of them.”

“You’ll get there.”

Tony lowered himself at an angle that would allow Gabe to scribble on the book. It was comfortable for him during the first seven or eight seconds.

“Don’t move!”

“You’re being slow.”

“I’m drawing a door.” Tony realized Gabe was drawing a house.

“Right. Can’t rush art, yadda yadda yadda.” Gabe laughed. “Are we done there? I’m old, my back hurts.”

“You’re Iron Man!”

“I’m decrepit.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means like, really old.”

“Depreckit.”

“Almost.”

“What’s the other drawing that you want?”

“Ah, finally,” Tony sighed in mock contemplation. “Okay, first I want a heart.”

“Hearts are for girls.”

“You ever tried living without one, squirt?” Gabe tried looking at him. “It’s not nice. Don’t do it. Draw me a heart, I want one.”

“That’s easy.”

“Good. Now I want a flower next to the heart.”

“Oh, flowers are for girls.”

“Flowers are for people who think the world would look boring without them, do you know what a desert is?”

“No.”

“Boring place without flowers.”

This one took Gabe longer than the heart. Tony put him down with a sigh as soon as he was done.

“What does it mean?”

“I met someone today and I want her to stay safe.”

---

Tony went to the flower store again, and bought a third bouquet of roses. These were yellow.

“Can I have those delivered?”

“Of course.”

Tony provided Karla’s address.

“Can they come with a message?”

“You can write a note over here.”

“No, uh – it’s really easy, it’s something the delivery guy can just say.”

The old lady handed him the pen and the festive notecard.

“Right.”

Tony swallowed.

“She can’t know it’s from me, you guys do, like, anonymous deliveries, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

She was going to know it was him anyway.

Tony hesitated before scribbling down: Hey! Happy Holidays. Don’t call me.

“That’s a terrible note!” The lady said.

“I told you I didn’t want to write a note!” Tony complained, covering it up defensively.

(The other option was some really corny line about forgiveness or something, but he thought that might be too heavy and weird.)

“It’s not romantic.”

“I’m not trying –” He sighed, then rubbed his forehead. “I can’t afford this stuff right now, but she deserves flowers.”

He did include the note.

The lady let Tony have another single rose, and that one Tony personally delivered to Pepper when he was back to the Tower. He met her at night, in her apartment.

“It’s creamy-yellow on the outside and then red on the inside,” he pointed out as Pepper examined it. “Like your hair.”

She smiled.  “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

Tony smiled back at her. It didn’t hold up very long, he eventually looked down.

“I know what day it is,” she said. “Are you –”

“No.” He shook his head.

Pepper sighed. “I just wanted to ask if you were okay, Tony.”

“I know. I know, that was my –” He swallowed again. He still couldn’t look up. “Answer. That was my answer. I’m not okay.”

He felt Pepper’s hand on his cheek. She was trying to get him to look at her, he didn’t.

“I’m terrible.”

“You’re not terrible.”

“I feel terrible.”

“That I believe.”

Pepper’s hand dropped to his shoulder.

“I’m terrible,” he repeated.

“Tony.”

“But I love you.” He looked up to meet Pepper’s eyes. “Not in the, uh – complicated – I mean, of course it’s complicated –”

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Pepper just said, “I know.”

“What I mean is that,” he tried swallowing down the thickness in his throat. “I still have that, right, I haven’t lost it. I still have that capacity to feel something that’s not…”

Tony couldn’t sustain eye contact. He looked at his shoes again.

“… and maybe it’s more. I think I feel it more. Than the other – things, maybe I feel it more.”

He tried clearing his throat and lifting up his chin so he wouldn’t look quite so dejected.

“I know it’s not enough. I know it doesn’t change anything.”

“Tony, it means everything.”

Pepper reciprocated in kind the feeble, glassy smile he had to give her.

(He knew how much his mother had loved him. He knew how much Pepper had loved him. And Rhodey. And Happy.)

(Unfortunately, he also knew love had never been enough to save him. It was never enough to change anything.)

“I just think that maybe it’s enough to keep the flowers coming,” he said. “I just think – whatever has to happen will happen, and I don’t – but then maybe when I’m gone, maybe someone will still bring me flowers.”

Pepper pulled him in for an embrace. Tony let her.

“I don’t care what kind, I don’t have a favorite,” he was saying. He tried blinking back his tears before hiding the stray ones in the crook of Pepper’s neck. “But maybe pink roses.”

[thefuturistknows]

Turpentine Cyanide | Valentine’s Day 2016

I want to wash out my head with turpentine cyanide, I dislike this internal diatribe when I try to catch your eye, I hate seeing you crying in the kitchen, I don't know why it makes me like this when you're not even mine to consider, erroneous, harmonious, I'm hardly sanctimonious, dirty clothes, I suppose we all outgrow ourselves, I'm a fake, I'm a phony, I'm awake, I'm alone, I'm homely, I'm a Scorpio. Put me on a pedestal and I’ll only disappoint you

(Part 1)

One of the harder things to accept was how it only ever took one moment – one specific word in someone’s well-meaning sentence, one stray glance at the wrong time, one step toward the wrong place, so many one things that were impossible to control – one single moment. And in that moment, it didn’t matter how good his day had been so far, it didn’t matter if he was in public, it didn’t matter if he was accompanied by people he loved, it didn’t matter how certain he felt, it didn’t matter how structured his plans were, it didn’t matter how many fucking therapeutic worksheets he’d filled in or how many SMART goals he’d set or how many hours he’d spent talking about it, it didn’t matter what he did – it only took one moment. Snapping of the fingers, blink of an eye, and suddenly his will and his mind were only barely his anymore.

That day, it happened while he’d been walking to a restaurant with Pepper, carrying four bags from Babies R Us in one hand, and that hand was hurting, but he needed the other one for the purposes of effusive gesturing to accompany his speech.

“Look, if there’s a world record for cramming the highest number of unintelligible words into a single minute, then that little girl got it –”

They walked past a magazine stand. Tony’s eyes were drawn to a specific cover. The 25 Best NYC Wine Spots for Valentine’s Day.

He didn’t make much of it. He kept walking.

“It was absolutely fascinating, actually. I didn’t even have to say anything, she was the one who answered every single question she asked me –”

Hot Dog street cart. Didn’t sell alcoholic beverages.

“I’m entirely convinced that’s some early display of pure genius.”

Couple of chatty teenagers bumped into him, one of them quickly apologized before heading off.

(Teenagers drink during parties, sometimes, even if they shouldn’t. God knew Tony used to.)

“Anyway, if not, then it was still – a lot of energy, she bounced around so much –”

Restaurant window. Four people drinking red wine, two champagne.

Pepper stopped at the door, holding on to his arm so he’d do the same.

“This is where you made our reservations.”

Indeed. And after walking past their window, it occurred to Tony that he’d be offered a wine list.

He followed Pepper inside. His nails were digging into the palm of the hand holding the bags, he shoved the other hand in his pocket.

Pepper was giving his name to the hostess. There was a couple waiting to his diagonal, the woman was going over the menu. He couldn’t even read it from this far, but he assumed there was a cocktail section.

There were several bumper-sticker type catchphrases people used in those AA meetings.

Think, think, think! was one of them.

It was about recognizing patterns, not allowing oneself to be taken in by the seemingly inexorable inertia of a craving as it creeped in – if he started thinking in terms of alcohol, it meant he was close to landing on a problem.

“Tony,” Pepper called. “Are you awake? Let’s go.”

Only then did he tear his eyes off the menu he was trying to read over the woman’s shoulders.

Think. Think. Think.

“I’m, uh –” He bumped his back against the door when he stepped back. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

“Tony?”

“You can take our seats.”

The hostess was looking. He placed the bags carefully on the floor, and lifted a shaky index finger just as Pepper was about to ask something else.

“One minute. Sorry.”

He headed out of the restaurant, and promptly started walking down the street away from it. He heard Pepper calling out behind him.

“It’s just a walk around the block,” he said over his shoulders, and then kept going without looking back.

Tony had to bump against one person before he accepted the fact that walking with his eyes squeezed shut wasn’t a good idea. Both hands were in his pockets now, one of them was holding on to his 24-hour AA token.

They had a HALT acronym as well.

Hungry. Check.

Angry. Check.

Lonely. Check.

(Triple-check.)

Tired. Giant, eternal check.

Halt.

Think.

Focus. His throat was dry. He wanted to do something very stupid. It was very stupid. He tried to keep reminding himself of how stupid it was.

He’d half-assed the Relapse Prevention worksheets his therapist had given him. List three consequences, the thing had said. Formulate a plan: If I use again, I will…? Tony had jotted down all the immediately obvious textbook stuff. I will regret it. My friends will stop trusting me. I will start over. And stuff like that, nothing else.

He hadn’t half-assed it because he didn’t think those were important considerations, though. No, actually, it was because the things that honestly came to mind were If I relapse: I will binge my way into the grave because I’ll never want to be conscious of anything ever again.

If I relapse: kill me. Just fucking kill me.

That wasn’t something he’d wanted to write down.

Tony stopped by the magazine stand. His eyes were drawn to the wine guide again, because of course they were. He reached out and picked up the magazine, because of course he did, because of course he was madly fixated and he needed to see the pictures –

He figured, maybe if he satisfied the visual longing, he could distract himself from the… other levels of longing –

Pepper snatched the magazine from his hands.

Tony closed his eyes, and released a shaky breath through his teeth.

“I hate when people do that.”

“I hate to be kept waiting,” Pepper said matter-of-factly. “It’s been more than a minute.”

Tony opened his eyes.

“You know, when I say…” He had to breathe in, and out again. One of his hands went back into his pocket. “It’ll only take a minute, sometimes it’s not literally… one minute.”

Another deep breath.

“Sometimes it’s like… two, even three.”

Pepper’s eyes were on him before she dropped them to the magazine cover, and then back.

“Do you want to drink?”

“I don’t want to.”

(Slightly! Slightly.)

He took the magazine from Pepper. He hated that she knew what he was looking at.

“Hey, sorry,” the seller told him as Tony tried putting it back where he got it. “You read it, you buy it.”

Tony stood there, frozen and terrorized by the sense of inherent damnation that came with the idea that he was stuck with this perverse guide–

“I’ll buy it,” Pepper said, taking the magazine from Tony’s hand again.

Tony stepped away. He used a nearby parking meter as support for his back, his hands were back in his pockets. He regretted not having picked sunglasses with darker lenses.

“Valentine’s Day sucks,” he breathed out as Pepper approached him again, like that was the best explanation he had to give.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Pepper replied, like she believed his explanation.

“Where are the bags?”

“At the restaurant. I’ll pick them up.”

She didn’t leave her spot, though.  

Her ponytail tumbled over her shoulder when she briefly turned her head in response to some noise.

The first time Pepper told him she loved him, it was also the first time in his life Tony had ever heard it from someone, in a romantic sense, and it had happened on Valentine’s Day.

Well, not on Valentine’s Day, just the day in January when he gave her a gift that was meant for Valentine’s Day –

Tony swallowed. His eyes were filling up.

He did not give a flying fuck about that whole thing.

He did, however, remember Pepper’s choice of wine that night, he remembered their choice of champagne, and that was what came to mind as he looked at her now, that’s what he was missing, that’s what he wanted to repeat, nothing else, just that –

Ride it out, he reminded himself. Cravings happen. Ride it out.

“It’s amazing,” Tony swallowed. He pocketed his hands when Pepper tried reaching for them. “It empties you out. It just -- empties you out.”

“It’s okay,” Pepper said.

Tony closed his eyes.

It wasn’t okay.

Then he nodded.

“I know,” he said. “It’s fine.”

He was aware of the people watching. Pepper was right in front of him. He had to get this under control. He couldn’t let it show. He couldn’t let anyone down with this, he couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

First things first: toughen up.

“Let’s go back.”

“Are you sure?”

He opened his eyes. Pepper was still studying him.

Actually, AA also had a “first things first” rule.

First things first: sobriety.

“I’m not sure,” Tony admitted.

“I’ll pick up our bags,” Pepper said. “We’ll go someplace else.”

He shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Tony.”

“I want to go home.”

He tried to tell himself that this was a good thing. He was told it was okay to remove himself from situations.

Pepper didn’t look like she thought this was a good thing.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Tony said. He straightened his posture. “I’ll just –”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Why not?” He asked, defensively. “Because later on you might find me lying face down on my vomit, is that what you think will happen?”

He waited for a reply, but before Pepper said anything, he could see it in her eyes.

“It is, isn’t it.”

No response from her. Tony looked away as well after she did.

He was feeling something else, now. Complete devastation.

“It’s not like that, Tony,” she said eventually.

It was exactly like that.

“I get it,” he answered. His voice was tight. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I’m hurt,” he said. “But I get it. I get it, I spent decades saying I wanted to be alone while I was dying in the background. You don’t trust me. I get it.”

He felt Pepper’s touch on his upper arm.

“I don’t want you to be alone, Tony,” she said. “That’s it.”

Tony didn’t answer. Pepper ran her hand up and down his upper arm, then squeezed it.

I want to be alone, he wanted to say.

I’m overwhelmed.

“I need you to trust me,” Tony whispered, and it sounded pathetic even to him, he’d said variations of this so many times, invariably before doing something stupid.

One of his hands was still in his pocket. When he took it out, he was still holding his AA chip. He passed it on to Pepper.

He hadn’t talked about it, much less shown it to anyone until now. And he’d had no plans to. He wasn’t ashamed, but this wasn’t an accomplishment he needed on display.

“They give you one of those when you get started,” Tony said. “I have two. So far. I have the one for the one month benchmark as well. But it’s the 24-hour one I’m attached to, because it’s the one I can win every day.”

Pepper looked up from the token in her hands, then focused on him. Tony looked down.

“I wasn’t the one who said that. My sponsor did,” he continued. “I see him twice a week, before the meeting. I got to pick the days. Sundays, because weekends are lonely, and Wednesdays, because that’s right in the middle of the week, right, and weekdays are tiring.”

He lifted his gaze from his feet, to Pepper’s hands.

“I will get a gold chip exactly a week from now, it’s for two months.” He closed his eyes. “I’m doing that 90-in-90 thing they recommended. I haven’t missed a day since I started. I haven’t missed a day at the clinic either. I get actual homework from these things. I’ve been doing everything. I’m doing the reading. I called you.”

He looked at Pepper.

“I know you’re fine with me calling, right, so today I was – I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day, right – so, I called you. Instead of just sitting there, not… calling anybody.”

He swallowed, and bit his bottom lip.

“I know this is nothing compared to all the reasons I gave you not to trust me,” he continued. “But – I’m really –”

No. No but’s.

“Just tell me what you need me to do. Tell me what you need to help you trust me.”

Pepper opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. She did it one more time before she closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re doing everything.”

“Don’t apologize for this. None of it was ever your fault.”

“I don’t need anything else.”

Pepper passed him back the token, and Tony put it away.

“Well, I don’t need anything else beside a ride,” she added. “You drove us over.”

Tony was able to smile after Pepper did.

He still felt like he was being handled like a ticking time bomb, even after Pepper said goodbye. He didn’t know if it was something he’d seen in her eyes or if it was something he was projecting there. What he did know was that he wanted to drink just to drown out the tick, tick, ticking of the clock in his head, and what a fucking ridiculous self-fulfilling prophecy that would be.

Tony didn’t know for how long he sat right by the door of Karla’s apartment. More than two hours, because that’s when he had stopped checking his watch. Still, he didn’t look up immediately after he heard the door opening.

“You’re unsettling the neighbors,” Karla said. Not cold, but disconcertingly neutral.

“I’m Tony Stark.”

“Does being Tony Stark disqualify you from harassment?”

“I’m harassing you?” He actually looked up at that. “Is this weird?”

One of Karla’s eyebrows quirked upward.

“My neighbors think so.”

“And you care about your neighbors.” He said it like there was a sense of wonderment inherent to that assumption. “Sorry. I didn’t want to intrude.”

Again.

“You’re sitting on my doorstep.”

“I know, trust me, I’ve been here for hours.”

“You could have called.”

“I’m sure you were doing something important.”

“You could have tested your theory by calling first.”

He hesitated.

“Wait. I’m intruding.”

“Slightly, yes.”

“I just figured you’d come out eventually, so I’d talk to you when you were in the mood to deal with the world.”

“What if I’d decided not to get out today, you’d have just sat here the whole night?”

“No!” Tony scoffed. His legs had been stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, but now he bent his knees and brought them close to his chest, but not quite touching it. “That would be weird.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t have anything else to do.”

A couple silent heartbeats, and then Karla sat by his side.

“Me neither.”

She wasn’t looking at him, which gave Tony an opportunity to examine her profile. Her eyes were catching the last of the day’s light.

“Is it too much to assume there’s a point to this visit?”

Tony blinked his gaze away when Karla’s turned to meet his.

“Obviously,” he said. “And I mean, it’s not a phone thing.”

He waited for a response, and when none came, he realized he’d been hoping for one, so that he could have gone on some other tangent and bought himself more time to figure out how to phrase any of this properly. Those hours sitting alone out there hadn’t been enough, apparently.

None of that, though.

“It’s just, you know.” He swallowed. “I wanted to let you know that you can go.”

Tony wasn’t looking at Karla, so he couldn’t measure her expression.

“Not that you need my permission. Obviously.”

Even though that’s what he’d just made it sound like. Idiot. He was bad at this.

“I’m just saying, I think I kind of implied that you needed to stay here and do something to prove you’re not batshit evil,” he continued. “And that is kind of stupid.”

“You’re apologizing?” Karla asked. “Was that the point of the flowers?”

Tony cleared his throat, now looking ahead instead of down.

“I’m saying that – I don’t think there’s such a thing as appealing to justice when it comes to trust, you know, there’s no quantitative anything that you can do to be entitled to it.”

Rambling. Get to the point.

“But there is such a thing as basic humanity. And not treating people like they’re nothing but a grenade with the pin pulled.”

He looked down again.

“I could have just stayed away, but I hounded you like you were an impending apocalyptic scenario or something. So, yes.” He bit into his bottom lip. “Yeah, I’m apologizing.”

Karla didn’t say anything immediately, and Tony wished he could see her expression. His self-consciousness won out though, and he didn’t look.

The silence was killing him. It might have lasted three seconds or ten minutes, he couldn’t even tell.

“For what it’s worth,” he continued. “I really didn’t – don’t want you to leave.”

“You said that before.”

Yeah, she was still listening.

“I’m not sure what I meant actually came across the first time.”

“You could try rephrasing it.”

Tony cleared his throat again, then actually turned his head to look at Karla. His eyes met hers, and stayed there for a second. Then it dropped briefly to her lips, and then up again. She placed a hand on one of his knees.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

The pitch of his voice rose embarrassingly at the last word. God damn it. Karla pulled her hand back and used it to push some hair away from her face.

“Kamala would be heartbroken if I left,” she said, matter-of-fact.

And you care. Tony couldn’t help his smile.

“I meant like, dinner.”

Raised eyebrow on Karla’s part.

“Or lunch. Or breakfast. I mean,” he shrugged his attempted nonchalance, turning his gaze away again. “Whatever your date thing is.”

More silence from Karla. God, this was going to kill him.

“I’ll think on it.”

Tony stood up when she did.

“Good. So you’ll just…”

“Let you know.”

“Let me know,” he cleared his throat. “Exactly. So I’ll – go. Now.”

Karla nodded.

“Nice seeing you.”

He smiled, then turned his back, pocketing his hands like he was feeling relaxed and confident and absolutely not as if he’d just run three marathons.

He had to turn around and look at Karla again, just as she was closing the door.

“Okay, hold on,” he said. “No pressure. But it would be cool if you could make a decision in the next –” He looked at his watch. “Six hours.”

“That’s putting pressure.”

“Right!” He ran a hand through his hair. “Obviously. Of course, you don’t have to.”

Tony started stepping away again, but then he quickly turned back. Karla had been waiting in the same position like she knew he would do that.

“I just can’t help thinking in terms of future,” he started to explain. Or Tried. “It’s just something that I do. Sometimes it serves me well, sometimes it doesn’t.”

More rambling. Not good.

“So I was thinking, you know, in the long-term – if there’s a long-term for us –”

He hesitated. Karla didn’t leave, she just nodded for him to continue.

“It would be kind of cute if we could look back on Valentine’s Day first date.”

[thefuturistknows]

I wake up more awake than I’ve ever been before | Jan. 2016

JANUARY 3, 2016

The workshop at the Tower was already clean when Tony had gotten there. He should have expected that, in retrospect, but it hadn’t occurred to him when he had been silently steeling his thoughts in order to do the clean up himself upon arrival. That turned out not to be necessary. Happy was the one who did most of the work.

The cabinets were empty now, save for the glasses, but Tony wanted to get rid of them altogether. The resolve was cemented the day Steve met him downstairs. Tony was hyperaware of the piece of furniture as they talked.

“I’m gonna need your full attention,” Tony said. He was going to instruct Steve on how to transfer JARVIS’ controls back to him. “It’s fairly complicated.”

“I thought it would be,” Steve answered.

Tony narrowed his eyes, then pointed to a spot that would allow ample movement.

“Stand over there?”

Steve did.

“Okay,” Tony nodded. “Lift your right arm above your head.”

No hesitation on Steve’s part.

“Good. Now lift your left leg, knee bent.”

Steve looked at him quizzically.

“Look, I’m eccentric, just do it,” Tony shrugged. “It’s for the scanners.”

“Right.”

Steve lifted his left leg, as instructed.

“Okay, that’s good.” Tony nodded professionally. “Now, backflip twice.”

“Tony.”

“I’m completely serious.”

Steve stared at him, completely dead-eyed. Tony might have been able to sustain his gaze had it not been for the ridiculous position Steve found himself in. Tony was the first to budge, and the effort he was making to hold back a smile started to show.

“Okay, maybe if you backflip… just once…”

Steve dropped his arm and leg with an amused eye roll. Tony chuckled.

“You literally just have to say it.”

“Say what?”

“Just, you know, communicate your needs, like an adult.” Tony shrugged, pocketing his hands. “Be polite, he likes polite. Like, ‘JARVIS, would you mind going back to Tony?’ He’s gonna ask you if you’re sure.”

Steve hesitated only briefly before doing as instructed, and after all the pertinent scans, JARVIS greeted Tony with a “Welcome home, Sir. Things have been dreadfully boring without you.”

“Thanks,” Steve chuckled. Then he looked to Tony. “That’s it?”

“Yep.” Tony nodded. “I mean, it has to be your voice.”

“All this time, I could have just done that.”

Tony made his way to the main computer screens, to make sure everything was still fully operational.

“You could have done anything you wanted,” Tony said offhandedly. “Honestly, the closest human beings will ever get to being gods is through technology.”

Steve silently approached, stopping when he was as close as he could get to the workbench separating him from Tony.

“I could have killed you.”

Tony looked up.

“JARVIS told me.”

His eyes searched Steve’s for a second. Steve was the one to look down this time.

“I can’t believe you have a kill switch.”

Tony focused back on the computer.

“It’s in the back of my neck,” he said, touching the area lightly. “By the Extremis ports. It shuts down my synapses.”

“Is it safe?” Steve asked. “Isn’t that unnecessary vulnerability? Look at what happened to Vision. Are you sure that’s okay?”

“It’s as safe as anything else,” Tony still wasn’t looking at Steve. “As safe as it can be. Which might not amount to much.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“I wouldn’t ever be able to do that.”

“You would, if it was necessary,” Tony said. “And if it was necessary, I would want you to.”

Tony looked up this time. Steve was the one looking away.

“Not that a whole lot of people always listen to what I want,” Tony added with an attempted smile. “Which is good, I wouldn’t be here if you always did.”

Steve’s gaze met his.

“That’s why the key judgment is yours.”

Tony bit into his bottom lip during the brief silence that followed.

“I’m not trying to win you back over,” he said. “I was just…”

“You don’t have to. You never lost me.”

When Steve smiled, Tony felt at liberty to do the same.

“Well, I lost some other things,” he said, moving away from the workbench. He grabbed his leather jacket from where he’d tossed it previously, on the back of the couch. “Time, for one.” He looked at his wristwatch. “I’m like seven minutes past fashionably late.”

“Late to where?”

“Salvation.”

One of Steve’s eyebrows perked upward in response to the gravitas on Tony’s tone.

“I’m kidding. It’s just therapy.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Well, that’s good.”

Tony opened the door, allowing Steve to step out first.

“I always knew I was quantifiably insane,” Tony chuckled half-heartedly. “Now I get to see exactly how much.”

***

“What was the verdict, after all?”

Pepper had ordered Italian food. He hadn’t told her he would come over for dinner tonight, but she’d still ordered enough for two. He didn’t know how she could always tell.

“Twenty hours a week for three months,” he said, focusing on the task of putting pasta carbonara on his plate so he wouldn’t have to look at Pepper. “And group therapy comes highly recommended in my case as well. For indefinite lengths of time.”

“As in, support groups?”

“Yep,” he sat down. “There’s something they call the 90-in-90 challenge.”

Tony hesitated. He didn’t elaborate until Pepper asked, “What is that?”

“Ninety AA meetings in ninety days.”

Tony was still focusing on his own plate, so he missed Pepper’s immediate reaction.

“It’s supposed to be harder at the start.”

“That’s a handful of work.”

He shrugged.

“I guess an hour’s worth of conversation with me is enough to get any therapist to scream ‘worst case scenario.’”

Tony looked up briefly, with a smile. Pepper’s eyes were on him, and he looked down when he felt scrutinized.

“Anyway, it’s fine,” he said. “It’s a plan.”

He tried to smile again. He wasn’t hungry.

“It’s fine.”

***

It was fine.

Tony sat in his bed, back against the headboard, tablet in hand. He had downloaded some AA literature so he could have a better idea of what that was supposed to be about.

It’s fine, he thought as he skimmed the chapters of the so-called “Big Book.”

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

He’d been told that there might be moments he would feel overwhelmed, but he would be able to put them back into perspective. Dropping alcohol didn’t get rid of his problems, it just broke a vicious circle. His insecurities were still there, what had changed is that he was facing them without any immediate, chemical buffers. It wasn’t a surprise that he was feeling overwhelmed.

If he ever felt he was slipping, he should call someone he trusted. And even if he had no one, there were crisis hotlines for things like these. He had resources. It was fine.

It’s fine.

“Sir,” JARVIS said, right as Tony tossed the tablet aside and pulled his knees against his chest. “Shall I try Ms. Potts?”

“No.”

He hid his head in his knees.

“No, don’t call her,” he whispered. “It’s fine.”

His chest heaved with the breath he had to inhale to contain a sob.

“No,” he repeated. “No, I’m fine.”

***

Tony was the one who called Pepper. He ended up sitting at her table again, arms folded on top of it.

“I wasn’t trying to lie,” he said. “I just really thought…”

He shook his head, biting into his bottom lip.

“I just really wanted it to be fine.”

Pepper was in her pajamas, elbow supported on the table and chin resting on her hand.

“Tony, no one’s expecting you to –”

“I know what the expectations are.”

He exhaled as he shook his head again. Then he hid his face into the crook of his elbow.

“What unsettled you?” Pepper eventually asked.

Tony didn’t answer. He waited for her to pull the tablet from under his elbow.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

His voice came out muffled by his arm, but it was still clear enough to prompt Pepper’s reply: “What if it does?”

“That’s not the scenario I need to worry about, is it?”

Pepper was silent for some moments after that. Tony worried he might have scared her, he felt his eyes starting to water.

“I’m so sorry –”

“Tony, if this particular model doesn’t work, we’ll look for another one.”

His chin started quivering, and he was grateful his face was hidden.

“Do you know how many times I tried to change?”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he shook his head lightly, without lifting it still. “I don’t even know.”

As far as he could remember, he’d been trying to find a way to become even remotely comfortable with himself. To the point where he didn’t even know who was the person that existed beneath all of those attempts. The only thing Tony knew for sure about that person was that he was part dead, and part screaming. Always.

“You’d think it would get easier,” he continued. “But all it gives me is accumulated evidence that I just can’t…”

Tony couldn’t continue the thought immediately. He swallowed.

“I don’t know for how much longer I’ll be able to do this,” he added. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me if it goes wrong again.”

“You’re suffering over something that hasn’t even happened yet.”

Pepper started brushing her fingers through his hair. Her hand lingered on the nape of his neck for a second before she pulled it away. Tony wished she hadn’t.

“Did you ever finish reading this?” She asked eventually. “Did you get to the promises?”

Tony didn’t answer.

“Read them out loud for me,” Pepper said. “Look up. No Extremis tricks.”

Tony waited another ten seconds before following Pepper’s instructions. He took the tablet from her, and started reading the text she indicated.

“Say it,” she prompted.

Tony looked at her before returning his attention to the tablet.

“I am…” He bit into his bottom lip. “I am going…”

We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t say it. He skipped that one.

“I will… I won’t…”

We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.

“Tony?”

Tony shook his head, swallowing thickly.

“I will…”

We will comprehend the meaning of the word serenity and we will know peace.

“It’s normal that I’m crying,” he told Pepper, squeezing his eyes shut again. His eyelids were heavy with tears. “They said that feeling overwhelmed is…”

“You don’t need to justify it to me.”

Tony wiped his cheek with one hand, and went back to the tablet.

No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see that our experience can benefit others.

He dropped the tablet and hid his head in his arms again.

Please, he thought.

Pepper put her hand on the nape of his neck again.

Please.

“I will comprehend the meaning of the word serenity,” he whispered eventually. “And I will know peace.”

JANUARY 19, 2016 

It was right in the name. Tony didn’t know how come it hadn’t occurred to him sooner.

Anonymous.

This wasn’t for him.

He had come wearing a hoodie, and he’d taken a seat in the very back. Most people had put their hoods down after the meeting started, except for a single guy, and Tony took that as permission to keep his own hood on.

He passed on the opportunity to introduce himself.

You know who I am.

The words echoed cruelly in his head. He couldn’t bring himself to say “hi” to anyone, because he didn’t want his voice to be recognized. He spent most of the time looking at his own feet. He felt eyes on the back of his neck even though he knew, rationally, that there was no one standing behind him.

What a joke that he, of all people, had forgotten the tiny detail that he was Tony Stark.

Tony Stark was a brand, first and foremost, at least among people he didn’t know personally. He didn’t get anonymity. He didn’t get a clean slate. He didn’t get to share something, anything, all he got to do was to confirm people’s bad pre-existent ideas of him, or fail to live up to the good ones.

He didn’t even have to say anything. Just the fact that he was here at all –

Oh. Tony Stark is a drunk. Of course. It figures. I knew that.

Iron Man is a drunk? Seriously? No. I thought he was stronger than that.

If those echoes were in his head, they must be in other people’s.

Tony passed on the opportunity to share, and he shook his head when it was his turn to read from the AA Big Book.

Kathy, who was the main speaker that day, closed the meeting by apologizing to those who didn’t have time to share today, and advised them to look for someone to talk to before leaving if that’s what they wanted.

Tony had long given up on looking relaxed, he was hugging himself instead of just keeping his arms folded. And he was so disheartened he couldn’t even leave his seat. He wouldn’t have, even if his heart didn’t feel so heavy, because he didn’t want to walk past anybody else. He would wait until they were all gone.

The initial plan had been to be a part of this. There was an insistent voice in his head telling him that now that this hadn’t worked, he wanted to die.

Kathy was still there organizing the chairs after the floor had emptied out. Tony noted she hadn’t asked him to go.

After some deliberation, he walked up to her. As far as he could see, she was the closest thing to authority, at least in today’s meeting. Tony knew that the main speakers fluctuated.

“Hey,” Tony said. “It’s Kathy, right?”

She stopped what she was doing to smile at him.

Somehow that hurt him even more.  

“Am I allowed to be here?” He asked.

“Right now?”

“I mean,” he closed his eyes briefly. “During meetings. Am I allowed to come to them.”

“Desire not to drink is the only requirement,” Kathy answered.

Tony nodded. He swallowed. He almost said nothing, because saying anything would be a waste, but then he couldn’t help himself –

“Let’s just get real for a second, okay?” He said. “You know who I am.”

Kathy didn’t answer. Tony took that as a confirmation.

“And we need to be realistic about this,” he continued. “I’m a liability. Okay? Just being here. I can jeopardize everything, for everyone, all it takes is one guy with a camera.”

He swallowed, then had to take a breath to stabilize himself.

“Plus, I don’t get to do this,” he shook his head. “I don’t get to do this. It doesn’t work if it’s me.”

Kathy dropped down on one of the seats, nodding to the one next to hers.

“Keep going,” she said.

Tony sat down.

“I thought I might get this one thing,” he admitted, and his voice was close to breaking. “I thought there was going to be one place – where I could – and where there was no pressure –”

He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kathy was the one that broke the silence.

“And then, what happened?”

Tony looked at her. She nodded for him to keep going.

“You’re doing great. Go on.”

He realized she was walking him through the typical sharing procedure – what did it feel like, what happened, and what does it feel like now.

“The meeting was over,” Tony answered. “I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t be a part of it.”

“What does it feel like now?”

He hesitated. His nails were tearing at the fabric of his sleeve with how hard he was bracing himself.

“I’m so lonely.”

Kathy nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Tony.”

“And?”

“I’m an alcoholic.”

Kathy smiled.

“Thanks for sharing, Tony.”

Tony blinked at her. He was a little bewildered, this wasn’t where he’d been expecting the conversation to go.

“Do you mind if I share something with you now?”

“What?”

“I didn’t have time today before the meeting was over.”

Tony nodded.

Kathy’s speech glided easily through the three questions, and it sounded like something she had indeed prepared and planned to share during the meeting. When she was done talking, Tony hesitated.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he admitted.

“There’s nothing you’re supposed to say,” Kathy replied, standing up. “Thank you for listening, Tony.”

“Thank you for sharing.”

Tony followed Kathy with his eyes when she started walking to the table in the back of the room, the one with coffee and cookies.

“You think you can help me put this away?” Kathy asked over her shoulder. “One thing you’re gonna learn about me real fast is that if you linger, I’m gonna try and borrow you.”

Tony chuckled.

Her statement suggested it was okay for him to come back.

“Hey, Eddie,” Kathy called out loudly as Tony approached the table.

A dark-skinned man in his fifties, maybe late forties, re-entered the room. Tony recognized him as one of the readers for today.

“Tony, this is Eddie,” Kathy said. “He’s been volunteering as a sponsor for years now, haven’t you?”

“Doing my best,” Eddie said.

“You mind showing him the ropes?”

“Do you want to know the ropes?”

Tony’s gaze traveled from Eddie to Kathy, and then back.

“If that’s all right,” he said.

Eddie smiled warmly at him. Tony smiled back.

JANUARY 20, 2016

Tony met Eddie the next day, before the meeting.

Principle over personality, that’s the first thing Eddie talked about. It meant that out of common courtesy, every steady member agreed to adhere to a code of conduct while every meeting was in progess, and those rules governed no matter who you were, and no matter who was talking. No interruptions, no advice-giving, no “you” statements, no assumptions – and of course, the confidentiality rule. What was said there was supposed to stay there, and it’s not topic of discussion once the meeting is over.

Tony still couldn’t say anything that time. Eddie called him to the back of the room after the meeting was over and the group had started dwindling.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as soon as he was close enough to Eddie for a private conversation.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Eddie said. “Remind me when you decided to get sober?”

“It was the 21st,” Tony answered. “Last month.”

“We have an anniversary tomorrow, huh?”

Tony shrugged his smile.

Eddie beckoned for Tony to follow him when he went to pick up a plastic box from the cabinet in the corner. Tony recognized the box, it was where the tokens were kept. They were poker chip-sized keepsakes, color-coded to represent sobriety benchmarks. There was one for beginners too, but Tony had passed on the chance of getting his because he hadn’t yet been able to speak up when the secretary asked if there were any new members present.

“Gold is for two months, green is for three, blue is for six, purple is for nine,” Eddie explained, keeping the box open for Tony to see what was inside. The tokens were separated by colors. “Bronze is for yearly anniversaries. We call those ‘heavy metal.’”

Tony smiled.

“The red one is for one month,” Eddie continued.

Tony tried to slowly reach into the box, but Eddie clicked his tongue.

“Of course, you’ll be able to get it when you come in tomorrow, and speak up when Kathy asks about anniversaries,” he said.

Tony drew his hand back.

“Okay.”

He watched as Eddie closed the box, and stowed it away. Then he looked to the side, he was ashamed of himself. The feeling was always there.

“Now I’d say that this one,” Eddie continued, “is long overdue.”

Tony looked at him again. He was holding another box open, but this one was completely filled with the silver chips for beginners.

“That’s the most important, if you ask me,��� Eddie said.

Tony looked at Eddie and waited for permission before he reached into the box and grabbed one of the silver coins.

“The 24-hour token. That’s the one we can win every day. I still carry mine with me.”

Tony smiled briefly.

“No, you keep that.”

Eddie closed the box just as Tony motioned to return the chip.

“You won that, what, some thirty times already.”

JANUARY 21, 2016

Tony was lying down on the workshop couch. He had been revolving the silver token in his hand for over an hour now, the tips of his fingers would have memorized every detail even if his mind couldn’t – which it could, of course.

Eddie was right, there was something inherently fascinating about the silver coin. The red one was resting on his stomach.

“Easy back there, you two,” Tony said, lifting his head briefly to look over at where U and Butterfingers had gotten into some kind of an argument.

By the time his head settled on the pillows again, DUM-E had rolled over closer.

“You want to see it?” Tony asked, tossing the chip upwards and then catching it on the back of his hand.

He looked at the back again, where the serenity prayer was engraved.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

“I won this thirty times,” he told DUM-E, quirking a smug eyebrow. The bot chirped. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

He looked at what was written on the other side.

To thine own self be true.

And the three pillars – Service. Unity. Recovery.

“Those aren’t bad choices to make every day, right?” Tony asked DUM-E. And himself.

Service. Unity. Recovery.

Serenity. Courage. Wisdom.

He smiled.

“Not bad at all.”

(What does it feel like now? He was proud of himself.)

[justatrainingexercise]

WC9: Screaming Silence

For a month solid, Jim had been following the HYDRA/SHIELD situation, but even now he couldn’t resent it; he’d insisted on responding when SHIELD first went into lock down and had barely taken his eyes off the HYDRA hunt since. He didn’t doubt that the superhero squad was probably on it as well -- and were probably doing a better job of it then the military was now that they were free of all the governmental red tape, though whether that was a blessing or a curse Jim had yet to decide -- but he still needed to know, firsthand, what was happening. Tony and Pepper both had made connections in SHIELD, and who knew what kind of information on them HYDRA could have gotten its hands on...

Jim propped both elbows on his desk, pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and prayed for Tony to pick up the goddamn phone. This was Jim’s third try tonight, and if this had been a couple years ago Jim might have assumed Tony couldn’t hear his phone over a wild Halloween party, but between JARVIS and Tony’s techno-brain-thing, he had no excuse --

The call went directly to voicemail. Jim bit back a curse as he sat back in his chair.

“Listen, Tony, I know” -- I hope -- “you’re listening to this, and I’m not trying to be a sourpuss here, but I haven’t heard from you in a while, and --”

I’m sorry I haven’t been there

“ -- I’d be thrilled if you just, you know, called me back or texted me or, hell, have JARVIS answer the phone, I don’t care.”

Jim sighed and leaned back onto his elbows, his free hand now cradling his forehead.

“This HYDRA thing has been a mess on my end, and I’ll bet it’s been a lot worse on yours. I just wanna know you’re okay, all right? Please. Just...gimme a call.”

He ended the call and set his phone on the desk. He managed to wait about twenty seconds before picking it back up again to call Pepper when his landline rang, so he opted for a quick text instead.

“Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes.”

can’t get hold of T, is he ok?

“Rhodes, it’s Talbot.” 

Jim grimaced and set his cell back on his desk, face-down this time. A call directly from a brigadier general was either really good or really, really bad, and Jim was pretty sure he knew which to expect from Talbot.

“Yes, sir?”

“Got some news I thought you might want to hear. Remember Senator Stern?”

In the privacy of his pop-up Pentagon office, Jim allowed himself the luxury of rolling his eyes. Stern had been a pain in the ass all around a few years ago when he’d called a congressional hearing on Tony to try to get him to surrender his Iron Man tech, dragged Jim in and tried to censor his testimony, pretended he was concerned about public safety when he really wanted to hand Tony’s tech over to the government’s new weapons contractor...

“Yes, sir.”

“Turns out he’s HYDRA. We caught him today.”

Jim’s stomach turned.

“You’re sure? For how long?”

“Says HYDRA got him into office in the first place.”

Stern had been elected in 2008, two years before Tony’s hearing, then reelected in 2014 despite the public embarrassment thereafter. Seven years as a senator, and who knew how long he’d been HYDRA before that.

Jim sighed silently through his nose.

“Thank you for letting me know, sir.”

“Sure. And hey -- take a break or something, will ya? You’re no good to us dead on your feet. Maybe go to a party and unwind a little.”

That was a riot. Jim closed his eyes, smirked, and nodded to himself.

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up and leaned back in his chair again, far enough to drop his head back and glare at the ceiling. His first thought was that he should tell Tony; the second was that that would require being able to get hold of him, which reminded him of his text to Pepper. He snatched his phone off the desk as he sat up, turned it over --

No response. The call with Talbot had only taken a few minutes, though, so that wasn’t particularly unusual. Besides, if Tony was partying, Pepper was probably there, and if he wasn’t...well, hopefully she was there anyway. Either way, Jim was sure there was nothing to worry about, that the stress of watching the nation’s intelligence agency disappear almost overnight thanks to a hidden uber-Nazi faction was what was keeping Jim so strung out...

He stood, pocketed his phone, and closed up shop for the night. Maybe a hot shower and an early bedtime wasn’t such a bad idea.

[thefuturistknows]

I am crying over Adele’s new album, pt. 2

1. River Lea

Everybody tells me it's 'bout time that I moved on And I need to learn to lighten up and learn how to be young But my heart is a valley, it's so shallow and man made I'm scared to death if I let you in that you'll see I'm just a fake Sometimes I feel lonely in the arms of your touch But I know that's just me cause nothing ever is enough When I was a child I grew up by the River Lea There was something in the water, now that something's in me Oh I can't go back, but the reeves are growing out of my fingertips I can't go back to the river But it's in my roots, in my veins It's in my blood and I stain every heart that I use to heal the pain Oh, It's in my roots, in my veins It's in my blood and I stain every heart that I use to heal the pain So I blame it on the River Lea, the River Lea, the River Lea Yeah I blame it on the River Lea, the River Lea, the River Lea I should probably tell you now before it's way too late That I never meant to hurt you or lie straight to your face Consider this my apology, I know it's years in advance But I'd rather say it now in case I never get the chance No I can't go back, but the reeves are growing out of my fingertips I can't go back to the river

2. I Miss You

I want every single piece of you I want your heaven and your oceans too Treat me soft but touch me cruel I wanna teach you things you never knew, ooh baby Bring the floor up to my knees Let me fall into your gravity And kiss me back to life to see Your body standing over me Baby don't let the lights go down Baby don't let the lights go down Baby don't let the lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Down, down, down I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all of my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby give me light I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all of my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby give me light I love the way your body moves Towards me from across the room Brushing past my every groove No one has me like you do Baby you bring your heart, I'll bring my soul But be delicate with my ego I wanna step into your great unknown With you and me setting the tone Baby don't let the lights go down Baby don't let the lights go down Baby don't let the lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Down, down, down I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all of my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby give me light I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all of my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby give me light We play so dirty in the dark Cause we are living worlds apart It only makes it harder baby It only makes it harder baby Harder baby, harder baby

3. When We Were Young

Everybody loves the things you do From the way you talk To the way you move Everybody here is watching you Cause you feel like home You're like a dream come true But if by chance you're here alone Can I have a moment Before I go? Cause I've been by myself all night long Hoping you're someone I used to know You look like a movie You sound like a song My God, this reminds me Of when we were young Let me photograph you in this light In case it is the last time That we might be exactly like we were Before we realized We were sad of getting old It made us restless It was just like a movie It was just like a song