If the car won’t start (originally a comic idea)-To Stall on the I95
Avengers Assemble Universe
There’s rain rattling against the Tower’s common lounge windows. The city is draped in grey sheets as the sky releases the weight of its burdens upon the mortals down below. Low clouds pass over the heroes’ fortress, occasionally barring view of the land they swear to keep and protect. Even with the power of the arc reactor fueling the lights inside, the gloom and grey creeps in.
Or, it could be that JARVIS has simply dimmed the lighting to help with Tony’s pounding headache as he sits and stares endlessly into the grey beyond. He hates to be maudlin but… who wouldn’t be? Despite being rich, despite being young, despite being a genius… despite Iron Man: he’s running out of time.
“I really want a drink,” he swirls the ice and water in his glass and sighs.
“I do not believe that would be wise, Sir.”
The others haven’t come back yet from their meeting with the Fantastic Four. Tony knows he should have attended; Reed and Susan expect it of him. He’s the team leader, well, co-leader. Steve insists he isn’t leading, but when Tony isn’t there, Steve is. Tony wouldn’t have it any other way. But, Reed and Susan don’t know. They probably see it as irresponsible, as disinterest or even arrogance, but it isn’t. He wants the teams to unite, to be part of a bigger picture.
He wants them to keep going.
Even if I can’t.
Tony raises the cool glass to his forehead, the condensation momentarily relieving the migraine’s pain. He took the medicine not too long ago; he should be able to have a drink in about another hour. Maybe a half hour- it wouldn’t hurt. He knows it would.
Behind him, JARVIS purposefully amplifies the sound of the elevator, alerting Tony to the team’s arrival. He must have been sitting here awhile… or, maybe not. He’s not certain. It’s not the first instance that he’s experienced lately where he’s lost track of time.
Their voices amplify as the doors open, their raucous chatter echoing in the large area.
They sound like they’re happy.
“And I can’t believe you said that to Johnny! I mean, come on, Hawkeye! The man literally turns into an open flame! You’d think—“
“Look, Sam. If the Human Torch can’t handle a little fire under his a—“
Are you really going to ruin it for them?
“Boys.”
“The Archer does make a valid—“
“Hulk thinks we should see who best smashes it out.”
Richards and T’Challa would be able to handle it.
“Now, I know that wouldn’t be a very fair fight.”
They don’t need you.
The overly warm weight of a large hand falls gently between his shoulder blades. It’s presence dulls the voice inside; it always has.
“Hey, Tony.”
Tony closes his eyes; the world outside falls away as he basks in the spread of the heat where Steve’s hot palms rest. Good, amazing, warm Steve.
“Hey.”
Steve’s eyes are like warm, sunny days. It takes Tony a moment to realize that those eyebrows happen to be drawn together, a look of concerning question replacing the words not yet spoken. Tony reaches for the warm weight on his shoulder. He wants to reassure Steve: It’s all going to be okay. He’s fine…
“Hey, Stark! What’s with all the doom and gloom in here? Stocks take a tumble again?”
“Clint, hush.”
“What, Widow? It’s like a goddamn cave in here and—“
Tony lazily follows their back-and-forth, glass held low, slowly slipping from his slacking grip. It isn’t until it almost falls and spills between his shoes that he notices, but Steve has it. He’s always got him.
Should you really tell them?
“How did your appointment go today?” Steve guides the glass behind him; Sam taking it and moving it to the coffee table. Tony stares at him in a bit of surprise. He hadn’t told anyone- “Pepper called to ask if you had left earlier, or if she needed to send an aid to drag you. Sorry. Said you had missed the last doctor’s appointment.”
Should you tell Steve?
The team settles behind Steve, eyes and ears perked to Tony’s every move. Tony… doesn’t do doctor’s appointments. Ever.
What choice do I have?
Tony pushes himself up from his sitting position, pacing through the common area, snapping his fingers as he bides for time. The tension in the room is thick, and the whole team is silent. They’re never this quiet. It’s… abnormal.
Clapping his hands together, back to them, he suddenly begins, “Obviously a rhetorical situation, right? You have a car, and it starts off great. New features; something you learn how to use and manage. First few weeks are a little hit and miss, but once you get the hang of it, it runs great for years. Occasional maintenance, a tune-up here and there, fluids that aid its function, right? Normal stuff.” Their footsteps come closer; the weight of their gazes tickle his spine. “You get a car and as it gets older, things happen.”
“Tony,” Natasha begins to ask, “what’s…”
“I mean!” He spins, arms open, desperation clawing in the space behind the reactor. “It happens to the best of us- to even the most expensive vehicle. Can’t be helped.”
Sam and Hulk exchange a look, concern and confusion in one. Tony doesn’t want to look at Steve.
“You should all know I have—well, money, of course. There’s the Maria Stark Foundation, Damage Control,… I’ve got the Avenger’s Trust as well. Different percentages of stocks and charity go into it. And, with the upcoming five year plan, product releases should keep SI and the Avengers more than adequately covered until Richards or Kitty Cat can really get involved. You know it’s—“
“What the fuck are you on about, Tony?” Clint climbs to sit on the back of a couch. His eyes never leave Tony’s path, expectant and waiting. Natasha leans on the wall, gaze cast down. Thinking.
He rubs his hands on his jeans. The sweat from his palms leaves a spot behind where it had started. He really shouldn’t have told them. Too many possibilities. It would only cause concern for his performance in the field. They wouldn’t want him to fly.
He can’t not fly!
“Tony, what’s going on?”
Steve would worry.
Like a deer in the headlights: that’s the saying. That’s how he feels at this exact moment. Every response now, a car headed his way, and either it will swerve or he’ll lose it all, because he sure as hell can’t move.
“I- I…” You can’t lie to them. “Got a bit of news. I’ve been a little… under the weather lately. Wanted to check the gears and cogs, you know?”
Hulk growls, “You’ve been sick?”
“Hey,—“ Tony puts his hands up out of habit.
“Do you need Banner?”
“What about JARVIS?” Thor asks.
Tony pauses, and really thinks about it. Bruce’s presence would be very helpful, even if only for another ear. He knows it’s not the doctor’s specialty, but it wouldn’t hurt.
“I…will leave that up to the both of you, Hulk. And, the results are only as good as the equipment, you know? Medicine has not been my primary focus for technological leaps…” but that will change. “I’m working on it. In the meantime, JARVIS will keep monitoring me. Periodic scans, blood testing, treatment analysis…”
Steve moves closer, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Tony naturally wants to walk away, to get away from the potential danger. He sees both him and Sam share a look. They aren’t going to let him fly. He needs to be the one to set the tone. He needs— “ I may have to start sitting out on scheduled missions. Emergency call only, I’m thinking. Found a… bump in the road. It‘s made some things a bit shaky. Gotta work on that. Need a few treatments, maybe some upgrades in the future. I was thinking of full neural-marrow integration—“
… You know they won’t stay.
“Tony,” Steve whispers.
Tony tries to keep going. He can’t stop. He can’t--
“Tony,” Sam tries, too. They’re worried. They’re confused. They’re, he looks around at each and every one of them… they’re hurting.
He closes his eyes, breathes in slowly, tries to release and relax. And, tries again. Slower, steadier, and more composed.
“You won’t lose funding, and you’ll always have somewhere to live.” Tony stops, looks to Steve. “I promised to give you a home.”
Steve reaches like he wants to touch but hesitates. Tony surveys the rest of the team before he can see the tears spill from golden lashes.
“Shellhead?” Hulk stops his gaze, a simmering anger shallowly beneath the surface.
You might as well burn it all now.
“It’s good to have the duties delegated. Good managerialism- if that’s the word. Pepper’s got the company, Steve’s got the team, and Rhodes would gladly pick-up the suit again—“
All at once, Steve recoils like he’s been slapped.
Thor takes a step forward, movements unsure, “ Forgive me, Stark. I fear I may be misunderstanding…”
Clint whispers a shaky, “What?”
Hulk looks greener and growls, scanning Tony over.
Natasha has a screen pulled up on her wrist band, no see through. Sam’s jaw is dropped, eyes wide. Like he’s starting to understand.
You’re just in the way, anyway.
Tony clears his throat and pushes on. “So, no matter how the parts and pieces end up, you’ll be good. Sometimes…” he blinks back tears, the weight of what he means disproportional to the words. His team, his friends—they deserve to know. They need to know, because if during it all, he is unable to heed the call, another must come. It doesn’t hurt any less, “sometimes we’ve got to replace the parts to keep the car running, you know? Engine stalls, you troubleshoot. If it’s the battery, you might trade it out. Ignition, put in a new one. Transmission, you might be able to rebuild it a time or two before having to change it entirely…
… but if it’s the computer,” the future plays out before his eyes: flashing moments of happy dinners becoming bedside sadness, of playful ribbing becoming melancholic assistance. They don’t deserve to deal with his failings, and as he looks around at each of them, he hurts for them. He hurts for Steve. It haunts him, this potentiality of losing it all, “ there’s not much to work with there, usually. Too expensive for most people. “ Tony chuckles derisively and shakes his head. A shaking hand brushes purposefully along a line of hair, “and, it looks like I might just not be able to afford a new one.”
They break into a chaos of gasps and growls, of curses and “I don’t understands.” Sam has joined Natasha and begun looking over her findings. Steve… Steve stands silently, so near and yet so far away, as tears trail over fair cheeks.
He loves them all; it is a concept learned and trialed as he has stumbled into its meaning. He loves them; he wants to keep them safe; they deserve better…
“But, I’m gonna give it a shot,” he looks to Steve, always looks to Steve, “I won’t give up. I promise. I can’t really replace the parts, not yet; but I’m hoping to maintain until we get there.”
Hope blossoms in crystal blue eyes as a smile begins to break over quivering lips. The others stop; they listen, all at attention in Avenger’s Tower.
“I just don’t want to stall in the middle of the I95.”