Sick and Delusional
Logically, Tony knew that Howard Stark was dead and therefore could not be in his lab. He knew that Howard Stark had been dead for a long time, and there was no need to feel such dread in every movement, yet his presence had been there for hours and it wasn’t leaving.
Tony first noticed it when Friday alerted him of his fever. He had been in the lab for hours at that point, well over twenty four, when Howard appeared. Not so much a physical ghost, but rather an emotional.
He felt tense and sore, constantly checking over his shoulder and expecting someone to be towering over him. He couldn’t talk anymore, partially due to the presence and partially due to the scratchiness of his throat, a strange feeling for someone who often spoke out loud to himself. Every movement felt heavy and calculated, as if he was just waiting to get hit.
“Boss, your fever has hit 102.5,” Friday’s voice chimed in from above.“Might I alert someone?” Tony shook his head roughly, steadying his hands as he continued to work. He could push through this, eventually Howard would leave. He had to leave.
Two hours later and Tony couldn’t handle it. He knew Howard was there somewhere. He ditched all plans of not looking crazy and started searching, knowing it was just his fever driving him crazy yet unable to stop.
“Boss, are you okay?” Again, Tony roughly shook his head as he continued his search.
He looked under tables and around corners, pacing around the room over and over again. His fingers were steadily threading through his hair and his breathing was picking up as he made his fifth lap.
“Boss, I am programmed to protect you at all costs, which requires me to alert someone if your fever gets dangerously high.” Tony half grunted half hummed, trying to get his voice to work.
“How high?” He finally choked out, his words sounding stuttered and slurred. Howard would always say he talked too much or too loudly.
“103. You are currently at 102.9.” Tony knew Friday knew that 103 wasn’t dangerous, but his voice had once again disappeared. He stopped at a table, realizing that running around wasn’t helping his temperature and he was starting to feel dizzy anyways.
He tapped on the table, partially Morse code and partially the tune of a song his mother used to sing to him when he was sick as he tried to figure out what to do. He slowly started humming it, all of a sudden feeling very feverish.
Howard was somewhere, lurking, he could feel it. His chest was starting to hurt and his head was getting more and more foggy.
In a split second decision he stumbled to the couch, allowing himself to collapse into it before his eyes slid shut.
___
“How long do you think he’s been out?” Bruce frowned at the question and stood over Tony, worriedly staring at his still body.
“I’m not sure.” He responded after a moment. “A few hours maybe?” Clint looked around the workshop, as if there would be any clues as to what may have caused Tony Stark to pass out on his couch. Steve tapped his foot impatiently, staring at Tony’s pained expression.
“I think he’s having a nightmare.” He noted as Bruce leaned over to feel his forehead.
“Friday?” Bruce spoke, and Steve expectingly glanced at the ceiling. It had taken him a while to get used to the AI, but he still tried to look at Friday whenever she spoke despite her lack of physicality.
“Boss passed out about an hour ago.” She said, almost seeming like she wanted to say more.
“His fever?” Bruce prompted, which was followed by silence.
“According to Boss’s program I am only allowed to discuss his health in a dangerous situation or with specific people whom he has granted permission to.” For an AI she sounded almost guilty.
“That asshole.” Clint said after a moment from where he was now perched on a table.
Steve stared at Tony, whose face was pinched in fear. He was definitely having a nightmare, and it was getting worse. Part of him knew waking him up could be catastrophic, but he felt bad.
“Can we wake him up?” Steve asked Bruce, already knowing the answer.
“Do you want to get punched in the face?”
“Not especially.” Steve admitted. Bruce frowned, turning his attention back to the AI.
“What can you tell us, FRI?” She seemed to think for a moment, seemingly checking the protocol for loopholes.
“Though his past health records are not accessible, it is common knowledge that he is known for only drinking coffee, which can often lead to dehydration. He also seemed somewhat panicked earlier, a common symptom for someone with PTSD, especially when feverish.” There was silence for a moment.
“Stark has PTSD?” Clint stated the question that was hanging in the room.
“He needs an IV.” Bruce said, avoiding the question. He knew Tony would not appreciate them being told that, but it is helpful to know for when he inevitably wakes up in a panic.
At that moment, Tony started thrashing, whining in his sleep. The three of them stared at him in silence, unsure of how to comfort him.
“Please, don’t! Don’t……hurt me…” Tony mumbled in his sleep, tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve hugged himself uncomfortably as he watched Tony struggle for a moment, before he suddenly stepped back.
“I’m going to wake him up. I can’t just watch him anymore.” Steve said with finality. Bruce eyed him warily, watching Tony from the corner of his eye.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He’s been attacked by someone he trusts before, he’s just going to think you’re trying to hurt him.” He warned.
“I don’t care.” Steve stepped forward with determination, gently pushing on Tony’s shoulder to wake him.
“Tony? Tony you’re having a nightmare. Wake up Tony.” He said gently, hoping to slowly pull Tony out of sleep. Unfortunately it didn’t work. Tony’s eyes snapped open, and in an instant he was on Steve.
He punched Steve, who stumbled back holding his eye. Tony shoved himself into a sitting position, in the process kicking Steve in the ribs. Hard. Steve grunted, stumbling away from Tony’s reach. After a moment the panic disappeared from Tony’s eyes, and was replaced with realization.
“Shit.” He slurred, shakily getting to his feet. “‘M so sorry. Thought you were trying to kill me.” Tony looked around the room, slowly noting Clint and Bruce’s presence.
“It’s okay,” Steve’s voice sounded rough as he grabbed his ribs.
“What are you….doing here?” Bruce frowned with concern at Tony’s slowed speech, grabbing his arm as he noticed his sway.
“We were worried about you. You haven’t gone upstairs in two days.” He directed him back to the couch and surprisingly Tony didn’t object to the manhandling.
“I’ve…been busy.” Clint looked up, cocking his head slightly at Tony’s words.
“You don’t sound so good Stark.” He noted, to which Tony visibly flinched. He swallowed heavily, ducking his head.
“Please call me Tony.” He said, not so much out of politeness but rather a plead. All at once Howard Stark was back in the room. “And I’m fine. This happens some times.”
“You often get high fevers and hide yourself away in your lab to be plagued with fever induced nightmares all alone?” Steve asked sarcastically.
“I don’t have a fever.” Tony objected, his argument somewhat feeble considering.
“Your fever has just hit 103.” Friday helpfully stated, her voice sounding almost happy by this achievement.
“Traitor.” Tony muttered as Steve crossed his arms. Bruce stood, walking towards the kitchen which also held a med kit.
“I’m giving you an IV, you’re dehydrated.” Tony grunted knowing it was no use to not just accept his fate. He held his arm out before Bruce even returned, putting his other hand over his eyes to block the harsh lights. As if on cue, Friday slightly dimmed them. Steve looked somewhat surprised as he again stared at the ceiling but he quickly recovered.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” Clint asked, reaching to touch a small piece of a robot on the table next to him. Tony glared at him from under his hand.
“Don’t touch that Bird Brain.” Clint held his hands up innocently, and Tony returned to miserably hiding under his hand. “Besides, why would it matter?”
“It matters because we’re a team. What if we had an emergency and you were out?” Steve asked accusingly.
“Sorry.” Tony didn’t have the energy to argue, so he just surrendered. This made Steve frown as it was very uncharacteristic for Tony Stark.
“What he means,” Bruce said more gently as he injected the IV, “is that we’re worried about you. You’ve hid your injuries in the past, and now you’re not telling us when you’re sick? We want to help you Tony.”
“I don’t need help.” Bruce raised an eyebrow before handing the bag of saline to Tony. Tony fumbled with it for a moment before sighing and handing it back.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled again, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Bruce easily connected the bag, a look of pity in his eyes. “I’m such an idiot sometimes.” Steve bit back a sarcastic comment, unable to bring himself to injure the sick man anymore.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Bruce said calmly, aware that with a temperature so high Tony was prone to being overly emotional. On cue Tony was crying again, and Steve’s eyes widened in confusion.
“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Bruce’s voice was steady but he seemed uncertain as he gently rubbed Tony’s back.
“He’s…he’s not leaving. He won’t….fucking leave me…alone.” Bruce’s frown deepened. Tony was getting delusional, not a good sign. This may need more than just an IV.
“We need to get you to the med bay.” Bruce tried to stand but was stopped when Tony suddenly gripped Bruce’s arm with incredible strength considering.
“No. No, I can do this.” Steve made eye contact with Bruce, distinct concern flashing between them. Clint was just staring at Tony with a look of slight confusion. He knew Tony wasn’t the most steady person but he never thought he’d see him cry.
“I’m strong, I promise. I can…do this.” Despite the determination in his voice, it still faltered worryingly often.
“Tony…” Bruce started, unsure of how to end the sentence. Steve was clearly itching to manhandle the genius to the med bay, but Bruce made a face telling him not to. Not yet at least. If they could get Tony there not kicking and screaming it would be better.
“Friday, page Helen.” Bruce said quietly, “we’re going to need her in the med bay in a few minutes. I’m assuming she’s authorized to his medical information?” Bruce sincerely hoped Tony didn’t lock his doctor out of his health like he had his friends.
“Yes, she is authorized. I am alerting her now, she’ll be down in approximately fifteen minutes.” Bruce nodded, turning back to Tony who was still crying quietly.
“Can you tell me who’s here? Besides me, Steve, and Clint? Or do you want one of us to leave?” Tony shook his head, then after a moment of consideration nodded.
“All of you. Please.” Bruce shook his head, realizing he never should’ve given Tony the option.
“That’s not happening, we can leave once you’re in the med bay.” He said firmly.
“He’ll still be there.” Tony choked out, his words sounding more and more delusional. They were losing him.
“Who?” Steve tapped his foot more impatiently, and Bruce had to shoot him a look to calm down.
“Him!” Tony looked up suddenly, glancing around the room as if he were looking for someone.
“Boss’s temperature has reached 104. I would recommend immediate medical attention.” Friday said.
“I promise you no one else but us is in the room.” Bruce assured him.
“He’s going to hurt me.” Tony mumbled, now visibly shaking. “He knows I’m not good enough, he knows he can hurt me and no one will know.” Bruce was getting more frustrated and more confused by the second, but something seemed to click for Clint. He sat up straighter, cocking his head again slightly before realization dawned on him.
“He didn’t..?” Clint asked, to which Tony nodded. Clint seemed to visibly pale, bouncing up and down from nervousness.
“He’s not good. Steve, pick him up, we have to take him now.” No one had to tell Steve twice. He easily scooped Tony up, who fought for a second before quickly running out of energy.
“No, I can do this. Please I have to-“
“You’re okay Tony.” The name sounded foreign in Clint’s mouth but he forced himself to use it. “He can’t hurt you.”
“Who?” Bruce grabbed the stand Tony was connected to, rushing after them.
“Howard Stark.” Tony whined at the name, thrashing weakly in Steve’s arms before passing out.
___
When Tony opened his eyes he felt like he had died then been resurrected in his dead body. He groaned, rolling over, but was stopped by something tugging at his arm. He absentmindedly pulled at it, but someone immediately pulled his hands away.
“Hey, don’t pull at that.” With much difficulty, Tony opened his eyes and was greeted with Steve’s face.
“Make me.” He mumbled, his voice dry and bitter. He coughed, sitting up, and Steve slightly smiled at the usual Stark rebellion. “How long have I been out?” He reached for the cup in the bedside table, taking a long sip.
“Just over twenty four hours. We moved you to your own bed about two hours ago when your fever broke.” Tony glanced around the room realizing for the first time that he was indeed in his own room. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Unfortunately.” Tony sighed as Steve took the empty cup from him. He leaned his aching head against the headboard, his eyes sliding shut again.
“How bad did I scare you guys?” Tony asked after a moment of silence.
“A lot.” Steve admitted. “I’ve never seen you like that, you were all panicked and scared. You kept talking about your dad.”
“Shit. I hoped I dreamed that part.” Tony rubbed at his tired eyes, then moved down to his aching chest.
“You never told me about…that.”
“You didn’t ask.” Tony replied simply, already closing up again.
“Jesus Tony, that’s not something you just ask a person.” Steve snapped, uncharacteristic frustration bubbling under his skin.
“That’s not something you really tell people either.” Tony shot back, turning his attention back to the IV. He quickly ripped the tape that was holding it on, then more gently pulled the needle out.
“You still needed that.” Steve said, but not moving to stop him. Tony swung his legs over the bed.
“Where’s Bruce?”
“Asleep. They’re both asleep.” Tony grabbed onto the headboard for support as he shakily got to his feet. Steve stood grabbing Tony’s arm so he could move.
“Where are you trying to go? I can get you something.” Tony shook his head, stumbling to the door with Steve attempting to steady him.
“My lab.” Steve stopped, holding Tony’s arm firmly in place.
“You can’t possibly think about working right now.” Tony rolled his eyes.
“Cool it, Capsicle. I just need something.” Tony tried to shake Steve’s hand off but Steve held on firmly.
“What do you need?” Tony coughed, leaning against the wall. He was already so dizzy.
“I can get it.” Tony said, making direct eye contact with Steve. He was not losing this. Steve’s cold blue eyes shifted, from icy frustration to clear concern.
“I’m not an idiot, you don’t trust me anymore. But I want that to change.” Tony leaned more heavily against the wall, pulling his arm away. This time Steve let him.
“Rogers, that’s gonna take a very long time.” Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes.
“We have to start somewhere.” Tony considered this for a moment, rubbing his chest subconsciously. God did it hurt.
“Friday,” he said after a moment, “show Steve where my inhaler is.”
Steve’s face flashed with confusion and concern, Tony didn’t like telling people about the inhaler. Tony put a finger up to silence him.
“Don’t make me change my mind. This is all I’m giving you.” Steve nodded, understanding, before exiting the room. Tony sighed, sliding down the wall to the floor. This trust thing was going to be really hard.