Chapter 1
The first thing Rhodey could remember was screaming.
His body felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t breathe right, and any air that did manage to enter his panicked lungs came out painful, hoarse screams and groans he had no hopes of controlling.
He couldn’t move.
It took his brain a moment to register that it wasn’t the immovable metal casing of the War Machine armour restricting him, but the warm, latex-gloved hands of medics holding him steady on a gurney.
Finally forcing his eyes to a squint, he was able to make out the sky moving quickly beyond the five or six or seven worried faces of medics moving him across the tarmac of the airport in Germany. His brain started to piece together what had just happened, and slowly he began to feel things beyond the pain.
He could feel a brace around his neck. Hands all over his arms and chest, almost as if they were the only things holding him together. All of it getting downed out whenever the gurney hit a bump and pain shot down his back and through his entire body, as if every individual nerve was being pumped with electricity. Trying not to let panic get the best of him, his mind somehow found its way to a grounding exercise Sam had taught him once. Wiggle your nose, wiggle your fingers, wiggle your—
Panic, blinding panic.
Now he was screaming with purpose. He prayed that he got the word “Help” out once or twice, but he couldn’t be sure. He thought he might pass out. Hoped he would, then maybe he’d wake up from whatever hellish nightmare this surely was. Through the chaos, a familiar voice.
"Colonel Rhodes, you’re gonna be okay, just stay with us.”
The voice led him to the face. Frankie Masters. Rhodey had known his dad and was like an uncle to the kid. He’d become a med student and enlisted to be a war doctor before realizing it was too much for him, but didn’t want to return to civilian medicine. So Rhodey introduced him to Bruce which led him to being recruited as a doctor who worked on Avengers related cases. Despite all of that, this was the last place Rhodey was expecting to see him again.
Rhodey tried to wheeze something out Frankie could understand, but just ended up sounding more helpless and confused. All the effort made him cough, clueing him into the several broken ribs he no doubt had. But all of that was taking a backseat to his most pressing concern.
“We’re moving you to the helicopter now so we can get you to a hospital, Colonel Rhodes. You’re gonna be okay.” He sounded so sure, like he actually believed what he was saying. Confident and sure of himself, and not at all how Rhodey remembered him. “Just stay with us, we’re almost there, okay? We’re...”
Rhodey could see his lips still moving, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the helicopter drowning out even the sounds of his own screams. Couldn’t hear the reassurances as the gurney was hastily slid onto the helicopter’s deck, the pain engulfing his body as it was. Someone put a headset over his ears, and with it came true reassurance.
“Rhodey? Rhodes, you copy?”
Tony.
There he was, leaning over him as people rushed around them in the cramped space. He was clutching his left arm to his chest but had his right firmly yet gently positioned on Rhodey’s, the terror on his face confirming that this was bad, really bad. Rhodey’s mouth hung open loosely as tears finally wet his eyes, the pain suddenly overwhelming him. He didn’t so much cry as he did sputter and cough, which only made him want to cry more. He wanted to say something but someone put an oxygen mask over his face before he got the chance to even try. He opted instead to put one hand over his friends.
“You’re gonna be okay, Rhodey, you hear me? Just hang tight, okay?” Tony yelled as the helicopter took off. Rhodey felt the effects of the altitude change almost instantly on his whole body, only disorienting him further. His head felt like it was a pressure cooker about to explode, and Rhodey knew he needed to get some of the blood to rush away from it. He tried getting his arms underneath his body to push himself up, but was met with a searing pain in his back and abs the second he tried to move.
“Rhodey, you can’t do that right now, okay?” Tony told him, as he and two other people pushed down on his chest and shoulders to keep him from moving again. “Just lay down until we get to the hospital, okay? You gotta calm down.”
“Tones, my legs.” Was Rhodey’s reply, the first actual words he’d managed since he woke up. He knew something was wrong, seriously wrong, and he knew Tony would’ve been able to tell him what it was. “Tones, what’s…?” He tried again, but the helicopter took a sharp turn as it rose higher in the sky, tying his stomach in knots and pressurizing his head even more than it was already.
Rhodey passed out before anyone could give him an answer.
Sleep.
It was Rhodey’s only escape.
For the most part, his psyche was kind to him. He could drift off into a world where he was safe, where he was happy, where he was normal. He’d dream the most mundane things; walking the aisles of a grocery store, buying ingredients for a big dinner he never got to make, running for a bus he’d never catch, anything that could free him from the cold sterile walls of his hospital room.
Throughout his time in the hospital, Rhodey would have this recurring dream. It would always begin with him walking down a soft dirt path in a lush, green forest, full of life. Birds were singing, squirrels were scurrying about, bugs and insects buzzing around everywhere, but they never bothered to come near Rhodey. It was as if he himself was a part of this vast ecosystem, just another organism minding their own business, concerned only with himself. The sun was always just beginning to set in this dream, golden light streaming through the trees' abundant leaves, filling the world around him with a sense of warmth and calm.
He’d walk for some amount of time, following the setting sun until he’d arrive at a wide, open glade. Through the clearing Rhodey could take in the vast, clear skies drifting above him, his view no longer obstructed by the dense forest. At his feet, a freshwater lake that seemed to stretch on and on forever. Waves gently washed up upon the shore, the cool spray of the clean water on Rhodey’s warm skin enticing and inviting, begging him to jump in and cool off.
The dream would always end the same way; Rhodey would strip down naked, leaving his clothing lying on a large rock in the sun to warm for when he eventually emerged, and proceed towards the water he never ended up swimming in.
This was a trend, Rhodey had noticed, always waking up before finishing whatever task or activity he was doing. He’s found that it was a blessing as much as it was a curse, because while it’s frustrating when the dreams are good, it’s a relief when the dreams turn into a nightmare.
The nightmare is always the same. He’s falling. No matter what he’s always falling. Reliving the fight at the airport and all of its frustration, emotional hurt and confusion, culminating in the almost fatal miscalculation that cost Rhodey his life as he knew it. The feeling of literal powerlessness that trapped Rhodey in his armour envelops his entire body as he falls and falls but never seems to hit the ground. Instead he tumbles helplessly through the sky, watching the world go by through the small slits of his helmet and Tony’s panicked screaming ringing in his ears, endlessly reaching but never quite able to catch him.
And then he wakes up.
Or, more accurately, he’s woken up.
Ever since Rhodey got to the hospital, he’s lived his life two hours at a time. That’s how much time passes before a group of nurses file into his room to flip him onto his back or other side, sometimes onto his stomach. It’s been explained to Rhodey why they do this, but he hasn’t really been able to retain much of what anyone tells him these days. Something about relieving pressure or increasing blood flow or avoiding blisters on his skin or something. All he knows for sure is that it happens, every two hours, without fail.
Some days he feels more like he’s being spit-roasted than he’s being treated at a medical facility, but that’s besides the point. The point is, he hates it. Absolutely hates it. Despite how much he’s been needing — and wanting — to sleep, it’s been impossible for him to sleep through it.
Every two hours, a team of four or five nurses parade into his room, take all of his blankets off (he usually has three or four due to how cold the hospital is) reconfigure any extra pillows he will or won’t need, then proceed put their hands on his whole body to move him to a new position. Rhodey’s found that, with the lack of any sensation or feeling below his hips, his upper body has become extremely sensitive to touch. The feeling of hands all over him every two hours makes him want to throw up. And being turned around while barely conscious and on what felt like every drug ever did nothing to help with the nausea.
It’s been rough, to put it lightly.
What woke him up today was knocking. At first, Rhodey suspected it was time to get moved once again, but his team of nurses would usually knock quickly before entering right away, and this person gave five or six knocks then stopped, waiting to be acknowledged. When nothing more came of it, Rhodey assumed he’d just heard another noise and mistaken it for knocking, and figured that would be the end of it.
That is, until he heard the insistent knocking a second time.
Was the person knocking expecting him to get up and let them in?
They were obviously waiting for something, but Rhodey didn’t have much to offer in terms of acknowledgement at the moment. Some sort of audible response would have to suffice for now.
Rhodey mustered up the best ‘Yes?’ that he could, which seemed to be enough for whomever was trying to bother him. The heavy metal door slid open slowly, and a familiar head poked through into the dark room.
Despite how annoyed he was to have been woken up, this guest was worth it.
“Sorry to bother you, Colonel Rhodes, I can come back another time if you’d like.” Came Frankie’s voice, timid and apologetic. A far cry from how he’d sounded the day of his fall.
This was Frankie as Rhodey remembered him. Apprehensive and unsure of himself, always aiming to please. Traits that really began to manifest after his father died, putting his life on the path to joining the military and becoming a doctor, in the hopes that no other soldier would have to die as his father did. Even though it wasn’t best for him, Frankie was always putting others before himself.
And behind the offer of leaving if he was asked to was a kid who really needed to make sure Rhodey was okay. For both of their sakes.
“Colonel?” Rhodey asked, lazily opening his eyes. “At ease, soldier.” He joked. “I’m not anybody’s Colonel right now.” Thankfully, Frankie picked up on Rhodey’s invitation and let himself into the hospital room, making sure to close the door as quietly as he could behind him.
“Well I’m no soldier, so I guess it doesn’t make too much of a difference, does it?” Frankie said as he sat in the chair adjacent to Rhodey’s bed. Rhodey rolled his eyes.
“You addressing me as ‘colonel’ all the time begs to differ.” He countered. Frankie leaned back in his chair, chuckling.
“I’m at work.” He replied simply. But Rhodey was quick to jump on that one.
“Oh, and this is working?” Rhodey asked, raising one eyebrow. “Because this—” He gestured vaguely with his hand without moving it off of his pillow. “—Doesn’t look like work to me.” That got an actual laugh out of Frankie, triggering a small smile from Rhodey himself.
“They must have you on some fine drugs, huh?” Frankie observed, the slurred speech and unusually lax conversation being more than enough of an answer.
“Mmm, I haven’t been this high since college.” Rhodey observed, earning another chuckle from Frankie.
“How’re you doing Uncle James?” He asked, leaning in closer and finally addressing him normally. Rhodey hummed at the question before quickly changing the subject, hoping that would be enough to dodge the question.
“I didn’t mean to be so grumpy when you showed up...” He said. “I don’t get many visitors so keen on my privacy these days.” Thankfully, at least for the time being, Frankie dropped it.
“You don’t have to apologize, Uncle James. You have enough things to be grumpy about.” Frankie replied, reaching over and placing his hand lightly and reassuringly on Rhodey’s arm. “I came because Mr. Stark had to leave for the Raft. It was all pretty sudden, so he asked me if I could come sit with you until he gets back.”
“So I need a babysitter now?” Rhodey asked, inciting another small laugh from Frankie.
“No, no, he just thought you might appreciate some company.” He paused for a moment, almost as if he was debating if he should speak again. “And, y’know, I wanted to come see how you’re holding up, too..” It was only then that it occured to Rhodey that between his emergency surgery and his stint in the ICU, this was his first time seeing Frankie since the day of his fall.
“They been telling you anything?” Rhodey was sure Tony would share anything he knew with Frankie, which would’ve been everything, but between his brief visits with Rhodey and still trying to handle all of this Accords business, now on his own, Rhodey doubted he’d have the time to be able to sit down and talk to him. And despite being on the team that brought Rhodey in, Frankie was only a first year resident, so considering that and the personal connection they had with each other, Rhodey was almost certain he wasn’t put anywhere near his case.
“Mr. Stark has been doing his best to keep me in the loop, and I’ve been able to get some info out of some of the nurses here and there, too.” Rhodey gave a half smile at that. The smile didn’t stay, however, as a muscle spasm ran its way down Rhodey’s back, causing a chain reaction as the pain involuntarily caused the rest of his upper body to tense up as a response. Frankie placed his other hand over Rhodey’s clenched fist, rubbing his arm with the first.
“You’re good, Uncle James, it’ll pass.” Frankie mumbled when a grunt forced its way past Rhodey’s lips as a particularly bad spasm ran down his back. Muscle spasms had quickly become one of Rhodey’s most pressing issues in the days following his fall, made even more infuriating by the fact that they weren’t even the good kind. While it would be encouraging if they were happening in his legs, the ones he experienced on a daily basis were all in his back, the result of misfiring signals from his brain not being able to reach his lower limbs.
“Do you need me to call for a nurse?” Frankie asked after a few minutes. Rhodey exhaled forcefully, managing a small nod of approval. Frankie stood to press the nurse call button on the wall behind Rhodey’s bed, which earned a quick response.
“How’re we doing in here?” The nurse who’d responded to the call asked upon entering the room.
“He started spasming a few minutes ago. The pain continues to increase.” Frankie provided as she approached Frankie’s chair, standing behind him so she was in Rhodey’s eyeline. Rhodey was thankful he’d been spared trying to explain the problem himself, though it wouldn’t have been particularly difficult for the nurse to figure it out had Frankie not been there.
“Well,” The nurse started, checking her watch, “It’s just about time to change your position anyways, Colonel Rhodes. We can move you to a new position and see if that helps with the spasms, alright?” Rhodey nodded, trying his best to control his laboured breathing.
Having Frankie around to get him alert and talking and his previous dose of painkillers wearing off had granted Rhodey a rare few moments of clarity upon waking up. But the pain from the muscle spasms and the subsequent new dose of meds pulled him right back under. He was vaguely aware of the pain and nausea that came with getting moved to a new position, and then he was on his back, surrounded by pillows and fading fast.
“How’s the pain now?” Frankie asked, the nurses having left some undisclosed amount of time ago. “One to ten.”
“Mmm, better.” Rhodey said simply, having missed the second half of the question. “Might fall asleep on you, though.”
“If you can sleep, sleep.” Frankie encouraged. “I won’t be offended.”
“Promise?” Rhodey asked, his eyes fighting to remain open. Frankie chuckled.
“Go to sleep, Uncle James." Getting one last glimpse of Frankie's face, he finally caught sight of the pain Frankie had been doing his best to hide. "You deserve it."
“Are they back?” Rhodey asked when Frankie burst through his room’s door. What was supposed to be a short visit to the Raft had, in usual Tony Stark fashion, snowballed into what Rhodey understood was a ‘Serious altercation’ with the Star Spangled Fugitive and his Mission. After not hearing back from Tony all night, the hospital finally got a distress signal from Friday, who was in Siberia, of all places.
Along with an urgent call for medevac since the suit was in no way capable of flight, there were specific instructions from Tony to keep Frankie with Rhodey in Germany. And despite their fastest Quinjets being able to cut travel times in half, it still took a full day to fly to Siberia, get Tony, and fly back. Needless to say, it’s been a rough 24 hours.
“They just touched down, they were able to get him stable during the flight.” Frankie supplied, kneeling in front of Rhodey who was propped up in the large armchair in the corner of his room, surrounded by pillows. He’d already been on track to start sitting for short periods of time today, and despite his worry eating him alive, he knew Tony would be pissed if he found out he wasn’t following his doctor’s orders. He didn’t want to give Tony another thing to worry about, especially now.
“I want to see him.” Rhodey stated, not even asking. “I have to, I–” A spasm ran down his spine, Rhodey trying his best to ignore it. “–Need to make sure he’s– okay.”
“Uncle James,” Frankie stopped him, placing one of his hands over Rhodey’s, “He’s in no condition for visitors, and you’re in no condition to visit.” Rhodey wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the stress causing his eyes to tear up, forcing him to break eye contact. A groan escaped him as another spasm ran down his back.
“I.. I think I need to... lie down again.” Rhodey decided, one tear sliding down his cheek, followed quickly by another. Frankie nodded, standing to leave and alert Rhodey’s nurse. As Rhodey sat breathing through the pain, once again alone, his mind wandered to the last time he had seen Tony. He’d been so out of it he was barely awake, but the interaction was somehow coming back to him crystal clear.
“You don’t have to worry your pretty little head, Rhodes.” He had said, standing over Rhodey at the edge of his hospital bed. Doing his best to hide his own pain. “I’ve got everything under control.” If Rhodey didn’t know him so well he might’ve believed him. “All I need you to do is focus on getting your strength up so we can get you out of here, get you back home. You leave the rest to me.”
“You know I can’t.” Rhodey could remember mumbling.
“You don’t have much else of a choice.”