Leave Me
“I’m not your Bucky anymore!” The soldier growls. “My name is James. James Barnes.”
“I-I know that,” Steve whispers brokenly.
“I don’t think you do,” James shouts. He takes one last huff before turning to the elevator doors. Immediately, he freezes and his eyes go wide when he notices a familiar face. Well the ghost of a familiar face. “Howard,” he chokes out, his eyes drawn to the man who sits trembling in a wheelchair. The face was so similar to his old friend and he had to dig his nails into his palm to keep him in reality.
He hears Steve make a weird sound behind him but he ignores it. “I’m so sorry-” he starts, approaching the man.
“Bucky, stop!” Steve yells, grabbing his arm, a frantic look on his face.
James wrenches his arm away and spins back towards Steve furiously. He leans in close to Steve’s ear. “Don’t ever touch me,” he growls. He stares for a moment longer before storming off down the hall.
Tony jumps when the door slams and they revel in the silence for a bit. Tony desperately wants to bust into the soldier’s room and force him to continue the conversation about his father but there are two reasons that would not be a great idea- he hates talking about his father, and staying on this floor any longer was going to force him into a panic attack. And Clint being in the room was not helping.
“Glad to see you are well, Tony,” Natasha said, breaking silence.
“I bet,” Rhodey answers sternly. His blood was boiling from seeing the soldier that he definitely didn’t remember inviting into their home and he was ready to beat someone up. He takes Tony’s wheelchair and directs him back into the elevator, barely noticing Vision and Sam following suit.
When they reach their floor Rhodey flies out into the living room, immediately turning around to Sam. “Did you know?” He growls.
“No, I swear I didn’t. They never told me they were bringing him here. The last time I heard anything about him was when T’Challa came and then I went upstairs to talk to you. I never went back to the conference room after. I swear!” Sam rushes out.
Rhodey slowly lets out a breath and lets his tense face relax.
“It’s-It’s okay sourpatch,” Tony says softly.
“It’s not,” Rhodey says.
Tony sighs. “Sam, can you help me change?” Tony says, wheeling himself quickly to the bedroom.
Sam nods and quietly follows Tony as Rhodey throws himself on the couch.
In the bedroom, Tony barely has time to park his wheelchair before he is completely enwrapped in his panic attack.
Sam’s eyes widened when he realized the silent man was breaking down. Tony was trying to transfer but his limbs were trembling as he hyperventilated, so Sam ran over to help steady him. Instead of lifting him to the bed, Sam lowered Tony to the floor.
Tony was squeezing his legs in tandem with his frantic breathing and was trembling lightly. Sam peeled Tony’s hands from where they were probably leaving marks on his legs and placed them into the soft carpet next to him. He was satisfied when Tony started gripping clumps of carpet instead.
“Tony, Tony,” Sam kneeled in front of the man, “You have to breathe. Come on, in for five, out for five.”
Sam panicked when Tony ignored him and ended up breathing even harder. Tears were leaking down his face and he started pulling at his hair. After a few seconds of feeling lost, Sam thought back to what he did when his younger brother had panic attacks.
Slowly, Sam placed himself behind Tony until the man was pressed up against his chest. He removed Tony’s hands from his hair and crossed them in front of him. Sam hugged Tony close, restraining his arms and encouraging Tony to feel his deep breaths and copy him.
Soon, Tony’s breathing was slightly better and his fierce shaking was a periodic tremble.
“Are you okay?” Sam said softly.
“Nothing’s okay,” Tony said brokenly, his tears picking up a bit.
Sam shushed him and hugged him a bit tighter. He grinned slightly when he noticed Tony lean into the hug and close his eyes.
Tony took a deep breath. “It’s just, Clint hates me, and Steve hates me, and their whole team hates me. And Charles’ mom hates me. And I don’t know how to make any of it right! The Accords were supposed to make things better but it just made it worse. They made me lose my team, and my family, and I can’t even fucking walk,” Tony cried brokenly. “This is all a bunch of shit!”
Sam paused, not knowing what to say. “Yes, it is a bunch of shit,” he sighed. “But we’re going to figure this all out, together. The team doesn’t hate you, they are just conflicted. And you didn’t lose your family- we are all under the same roof, right? There’s time to make amends.”
“I spend my life making amends,” Tony whispers. “That’s all I ever do. Do things to make people not hate me anymore. Why am I always the one fixing things?”
“Because you’re the mechanic,” Sam smiles, unsure.
“Well, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of fixing other peoples’ messes. How many times am I gonna get used before I am broken beyond repair?”
Sam looks down, unable to answer.
“My legs already don’t fucking work,” Tony mumbles, trying to lift himself on the bed.
Sam watches with sad eyes, before taking pity and helping him onto the bed. “It will get better Tony, I promise,” he says softly as the man closes his eyes.
Tony rolls over to face the wall.
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“Come on, last two steps.”
Tony grunts as he drags his foot forward. He was almost at the very end of the metal bars, something he hasn’t been able to accomplish on his own. But today, Sam and Rhodey stood at either end, neither holding him up like the previous times. Rhodey had promised him if he could get all the way to the end by himself, he would be able to work in the workshop. He needed to get back to his workshop.
“One more!” Sam encouraged.
Tony took another deep breath and used one last spurt of energy to bring his shaking foot forward. As he reached the end he immediately collapsed into Sam’s arms, this time with a large smile on his face. Rhodey ran over to put the wheelchair under him, patting him on the shoulder enthusiastically.
“Workshop time?” Tony asked happily.
“Not yet, shower first,” Rhodey rolled his eyes with a smile.
Tony pumped his fist and turned to leave.
“Wait, before you go,” Sam stopped him. “I spoke with your doctor and he told me to give you these.” In Sam’s hand are crutches. They have a ring towards the top and handles a few inches under. Tony smirked seeing they were his favorite hot-rod red. “We are going to have to work you a bit harder until you get used to them, but I think you’re ready.”
Tony smiled, “Thank you.” He placed the crutches on his lap.
“Don’t use them without supervision yet,” Sam warned as Tony turned to leave.
“Got it!” Tony called, wheeling away.
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Despite his new crutches, Tony still spent time in the workshop working on braces to help him walk. He eventually didn’t want to depend on anything or anyone to be mobile. He’s Tony Stark, damn it.
In his first hour of work, Rhodey came down and knocked on the glass. Tony, sitting on a stool, wiggled until the chair spun around.
“I got called for a meeting with the UN for next week, are you going to be good?” Rhodey said.
“Of course platypus,” Tony rolled his eyes, grinning.
“Remember what happened last time I left you on your own? And I will be gone three days this time.” Rhodey frowned.
“I’m a big boy. I’ll probably be in the workshop all day unless I’m working with Sam, anyway,” Tonly fiddled with the metal rod in his hand.
“Tony, I swear, you need to stay away from them. I can talk to them before I leave but-” Rhodey warned, staring deeply at him.
“I will, sour-patch, no need to go all mama-bear,” Tony said. “Now leave, you got Dum-E over there anxious.”
Rhodey looked at the robot that was trying to sweep up a car tire and rolled his eyes. “I’ll be upstairs, but i’ll come get you for dinner.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony sighed distractedly, going back to his work.
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“Are things...alright, downstairs?” Tony asked Sam, who was bending his leg. It was night time, so Sam had come up to perform Tony’s physical therapy before bed. Rhodey had been gone two days so far so Sam had been spending extra time with Tony to keep him busy.
Sam sighed, “They aren’t great, but thankfully Clint’s cooled down.” Sam paused when Tony winced as his leg was stretched. “You are not doing your stretches.”
“I am,” Tony pouted.
“No you’re not. I can tell. You see how tight your muscles are? They are starting to clench up,” Sam chided. A chill went down Tony’s back as Sam slid a finger down the side of his leg, pointing at the muscles. “You see how tight it is here?” Tony closed his eyes as Sam’s hands then tickled the back of his legs.
“I just forget sometimes,” Tony said, when he noticed Sam go quiet.
Tony opened his eyes, staring into Sam’s dark ones. For a moment they held each other's gaze before Tony looked down, breaking the contact. They are both quiet for several moments.
“Clint was going to come up to speak to you,” Sam said, shattering the silence.
“What?” Tony tried to sit up.
Sam pushed him back down gently, grabbing his other leg to stretch. “I’m not sure what he was going to say, but I don’t think he’s angry anymore- Steve talked to him. But Rhodey got a word of it and threatened him.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“Did you want to talk to him?” Sam asks.
Tony lets out a long breath. “Something big is coming,” he says softly, looking past Sam. “I can feel it. I dislike him and his attitude, but I know we are going to need everyone. So if I have to suck up to Barton…”
Sam looks at Tony’s glassy eyes. “What did you see in the wormhole?”
Tony’s breath catches, and he is thrown out of his thoughts. Before Sam can blink, Tony is sat up, transferring himself to the chair and wheeling into the bathroom. Sam jumps when the door slams closed.
Staring at the closed door for several moments, he knows the man does not plan to come back out. Packing up his equipment, he leaves the room, cursing his brain-to-mouth filter.
Tony didn’t hear Sam leave as he was too focused on trying not to die. Gasping for breath, Tony wrenches himself from the chair, limbs tangled on the ground.
Please pick up, please pick up. I love you so much, Pepper.
He shakes harder as the cool tiles remind him of the cold vacuum of space.
It felt almost peaceful as he released the missile, falling slowly into the darkness.
Despite the cold that clings to his bones, his shirt is soaked in sweat as he mentally fights the images that tear through his mind.
Despite being miles away, he imagined the explosion’s heat tickling his skin, chasing away the iciness of space. He tried to focus on that and not the fact he was probably going to die here, alone.
Dragging himself to the toilet, he makes it just in time to throw up everything he’s eaten that day, and probably yesterday too. Between heaving, he kicks off his leg braces and the stiff back brace, letting his body sag against the toilet.
He pants, closing his eyes from the horrible taste on his tongue and the flashing memories.
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That night, the nightmares slashed through his mind like knives.
Pulling himself from the vision of a pile of dead Avengers, Tony stumbles out of bed, grabbing the nearby crutches without a second thought.
His gait is unsteady but frantic as he walks out of the room. Water, he needs water.
In his haste, he never notices that he has completely walked past his own kitchen, and used his memory to guide him to the most familiar floor. I guess a part of him was also longing for the feels associated with that floor- family.
The kitchen is larger in its intention to host the whole team, and Tony, who’s steps are getting less controlled by the second, rushes to make it there before he collapses.
Shaky fingers clench the edge of the cabinet as he searches for a glass.
“Coulda saved them, coulda saved them,” Tony mutters unknowingly, vision getting dizzy.
Tony’s hand smacks at a glass, causing it to smack into the others, sending the row crashing down. Tony, mind still wrapped in his nightmare, cuts himself on the shards, trying to pick up the mess.
“Gotta do more, all your fault,” Tony mutters, clenching the glass shards in his hands.
“Stark?”
In his rush to turn around, Tony’s bare foot gets caught on glass and he slides backward, crashing to the ground.
“Shit!” He hears.
Tony blinks heavily as someone’s face appears in his blurred vision. Tears, he vaguely realizes, are the reason he cannot see straight.
“Don’t move, Tony,” the voice says.
“Coulda saved them, coulda saved them,” Tony squirms.
“Stark, Tony! Stop moving, there’s glass everywhere!” Tony freezes at the command. It is then he recognizes the voice above him. Something rises in him, something that has been sitting quietly ever since he hit the ground all those months ago.
“Fuck you,” Tony spits out. His eyes narrow and suddenly his arms are swinging. He may be one of the weakest on the team, but with all the upper body exercises he had been doing for his wheelchair, he really packed a punch.
He felt a mix of softness and bone as he swung wildly, even when the person had his arms locked he kept fidgeting, not giving up.
“Tony, I’m sorry.”
“No, fuck you, pigeondick. You don’t get to be sorry! All I have ever wanted to do is help. I give you guys food, money, gear, a place to live and I get shitted on. I always get shitted on! I’m so fucking tired of it, so tired. You guys were my family. My fucking family. But I didn’t mean shit to you guys did I? There was a family in this house, and you guys fooled me, thinking I was a part of it. I should have fucking known,” Tony glares.
“No, that’s not true, Tony. You know that,” Clint says softly, regret shining in his eyes.
“It is true, and you know it. Every other night I have nightmares. Rhodey thinks I dream of the fall, but that’s not true. I dream of you guys. Dead. Because of me. I dream about when I woke up to learn I would never walk again and my family was over in Wakanda, acting like I didn’t exist. I dream about the nights when we all used to watch movies until 2am, cook dinner together, when you and I would race through the vents- and it makes me throw up because I was so fucking stupid back then. I was so stupid to think any of it was real,” Tony yells. He doesn’t notice the tears steadily flowing out of his eyes.
“It was real, and I'm so sorry we let you think that it wasn’t,” Clint says, choked up.
Tony turns his glare to the wall. “I swear Tony. I was just so angry that you would support those assholes. Then Cap talked to me and-” Clint starts.
“And you listened to him without a second thought. That’s the problem. You didn’t listen to both sides, you just listened to Steve. It was just a choice for you guys- me or Steve. I already knew you all didn’t trust me, I'm not blind, but I just thought-” Tony’s voice cracks and he squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s when I knew for sure we weren’t a family. Because family would never leave me.”
Clint watches the man cry with his own tears sliding down his face. He didn’t know what to say because everything Tony said was true. After talking to Laura (or being yelled at by Laura), he was feeling differently about the whole situation. And now hearing Tony, seeing Tony, he knew he had fucked up big time. All the anger he had felt evaporated, and he too was wishing things were back to the way they were before all of this.
It felt like hours Tony laid in the glass shards and cried. Clint, after five minutes, brushed the shards away from Tony’s body and grabbed the first aid kit. Tony quieted down as Clint used the tweezers to remove the glass from the bottom of his feet and his palms. He bandaged them up tightly, prompting a wince from Tony.
When he was finished, Clint debated with himself before picking Tony up (god he was light!) by the armpits and lifting him onto the kitchen island. He then spent another twenty minutes picking out the glass from Tony’s back as the man sat with his arms curled around himself, looking incredibly small and vulnerable.
“Thank you,” Tony whispered, suddenly looking at Clint.
Clint gulped. “I really am sorry,” he responded back, just as quietly.
Tony looked down, clenching his arm a bit harder.
“I really enjoyed those times we spent together. I was a dick to not trust you, and I will always regret that. I was a dick to blame you for what happened with Laura, you had nothing to do with it. I was just too insecure to think it was something I did, but I know better now,” Clint sighed.
Tony doesn’t respond but his shoulders relax a bit.
“I know we lost your trust but I will work hard at earning it back,” Clint says finally.
Tony wipes his face of tears.
“We should probably both get back to bed,” Clint says after a few moments.
He waits until Tony nods and slowly wraps an arm around his shoulder and knees and picks him up bridal style. Clint carries him upstairs and places him in the bed gently on his side. Just as he turns to leave, Vision floats up from the floor holding the crutches that were forgotten.
“Thank you, Mr. Barton,” Vision nods. From the look in his eyes, Clint knows he had been watching them during their conversation.
“It’s no problem,” Clint says, walking back to his room.
Tony and Vision both watch him leave in silence.
“Are you okay, sir?” Vision says finally.
Tony doesn’t answer.