Chapter 2
“How’s he doing today?” Rhodey asked, having already cycled through their usual small talk for the day.
“No change.” Frankie replied stiffly, shuffling their deck of playing cards. “It’s gonna be a few more days before he’s gonna start showing improvements.” He started dealing the cards. “But the doctors are hopeful.”
“Hopeful.” Rhodey repeated, examining his hand. “That’s already an improvement.” Upon finally returning from Siberia, Tony’s list of injuries was long and daunting. Undoubtedly, the most concerning item on that list was the severe fracture to his already extremely damaged and fragil septum, the strain that put on his still weak heart, and the subsequent pneumonia he’d caught from spending nearly fourteen hours freezing in a mostly dead suit, battered and bleeding as he waited for the medevac to arrive.
After his emergency surgery on the Quinjet to stabilize him and a subsequent second surgery once he arrived in Germany, his doctors made the difficult decision to put him in what was essentially a medically induced coma, so they could put him on a ventilator and wait out the worst of his illness.
Despite the fear going around the hospital that Tony could be dead on arrival, Rhodey was almost certain he’d be fine. Tony’s gotten into so much deadly shit in the past, there was no way in Hell this of all things would be the thing that killed him. No, Rhodey knew that if Tony Stark ever does die, it’ll somehow be under the gaze of the entire Universe, in a SuperNova the Galaxy will have never seen. You know, if he ever gets around to dying.
But the fear that the doctor’s worries were right was painfully real.
Even still, Rhodey knew Tony was no stranger to that feeling either.
“No news is good news.” Frankie shrugged. “For the time being, at least.”
Rhodey laid his cards down on the table in front of him. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t focus on his hand.
“Not up for another round?” Frankie asked.
“Can’t keep my focus.” Rhodey supplied, rubbing his face. “M’too tired.” He sighed deeply before letting his hands fall into his lap, looking back at Frankie with dry, tired eyes. “Sorry, Frankie.”
“Hey, hey, no need to apologize.” Frankie said, gathering up the cards, and sliding them back into their box. “We’ve got all the time in the world to play cards, Uncle James.” Frankie placed the card box down on the table, taking a moment to study the expression on Rhodey’s face. As he’s so often able to do, Frankie read Rhodey’s mind. “You want to see him.”
“I’ve seen Tony an inch from dying more times than I can count at this point, but I just –” Rhodey pulled in a breath, “I need to see him. I need to know he’s still here.”
Frankie reached forward, taking one of Rhodey’s hands in his. That touch, that warmth, that’s what he needed from Tony right now. Frankie, the doctors, they could tell him whatever they wanted, but he needed that reassurance from Tony himself, even if all he could get was one of Tony’s calloused hands held in his, just for a moment.
“Give me five minutes, okay?” Frankie said, pulling Rhodey out of his dazed thoughts and back to the present. Rhodey nodded, Frankie pulling away from his uncle after a quick, affirming squeeze to his hand. The second the door closed behind him, Rhodey felt a tear slide down his face, then another.
How the hell did we get ourselves into this mess?
Rhodey had never been a ‘What if?’ kind of person. He lives and grounds himself in the facts, in the now. But these past weeks, he’s been lost in a blizzard of potential worst case scenarios, baseless worries and fears flurrying around in his mind almost non-stop. It was impossible to escape, suffocating at times, and had kicked into overdrive ever since Tony had left for the Raft.
And despite living in this, a present day nightmare come to life, it refused to stop.
The sound of his large metal door being pushed open managed to quell the thoughts. For the time being.
“How comfortable are you in the wheelchair?” Frankie asked, peeking into the hospital room.
“Comfortable enough.” Rhodey replied immediately. Frankie opened his mouth, about to argue what they both knew to be a blatant lie, then closed it, correctly assuming he wasn’t going to get any other answer.
“Okay,” He relented, “I’ll go grab your nurse.”
Despite what Rhodey would ever admit, ‘Comfortable’ was a strong word, especially in the moments that followed. The process to get him from his hospital bed into the aforementioned large, sturdy, pillow clad wheelchair included Rhodey having to exert energy he hadn’t had for weeks, and proved to be anything but ‘comfortable’. After a lot of struggle and many spells of lightheadedness, moderate pain, and nausea, Rhodey was finally venturing beyond the walls of his hospital room.
If he’d ever been out of his room for scans or appointments before this point, he had no recollection of it. As Frankie pushed him down many winding hallways, another one of Rhodey’s nurses acting as their guide, Rhodey took in his surroundings for the first time. Being mostly bound to the bed in his hospital room, his once large, open world had shrunk significantly.
The brighter fluorescent lights lining the ceilings, the sounds of other doctors, nurses and patients, and the occasional glance out a window with whole other views beyond them made Rhodey feel incredibly small. Despite the blanket draped over his legs, the breeze from being in motion, as well as the air conditioning circulating through each new hall they ventured through sent chills through his body, leaving goosebumps in their path.
Then came an elevator ride, the likes of which launched his already weak stomach up into his throat, and Rhodey was beginning to feel like he wasn’t ready for this, after all.
That was, of course, until Rhodey finally laid eyes on him.
If most people were to see their best friend, their other half, in the state Tony was currently in, they would probably be hysterical. A large tube down their throat, the majority of their face and body covered in casts and bandages, what little visible skin there was horribly cut and bruised, effectively being kept alive by machines and monitors, under constant surveillance. For most people, this would be horrific.
For Rhodey, it was just another Wednesday. (Or whatever day of the week it was, Rhodey had no sweet clue.)
All Rhodey needed were two things; the steady beat of a heart monitor, the constant rise and fall of his chest.
Check, and check.
“We won’t be long.” The nurse who’d brought Rhodey and Frankie in told Tony’s nurse, who was replacing one of many IV bags hanging above his bed. She nodded swiftly in response before returning to her work. Frankie pushed Rhodey further into the room, bringing him round to Tony’s bedside.
Rhodey reached forward as much as he could manage, carefully sliding his hand under Tony’s right, making sure not to disturb the large IV inserted into his hand. He immediately felt tears once again well up in his eyes. That touch, that warmth, that was life. That was Tony.
“‘Everything under control’ my ass.” Rhodey whispered, more to himself than to Tony. There was obviously no way he’d remember any of this interaction. But that didn’t matter. “I don’t know how many times we have to have this conversation, Tony, you ride with me, you hear me?” Tony’s hand remained limp and unmoving in Rhodey’s. He started saying something, but the next time he blinked he’d been pulled away from the bed, Frankie now kneeling down in front of him.
“You back with us?” Frankie asked, and Rhodey realized his nephew was holding him up against the back of the wheelchair, while his nurse was checking his pulse. “You blacked out there for a second, are you with us, Uncle James?” Rhodey managed to push some kind of reply out from his throat. “Let’s get you back up in your own bed, yeah?” Frankie suggested. Rhodey offered a cautious nod.
He was able to catch one more glimpse of Tony’s face as they exited his room. Despite the heavy drugs he was under and the complete lack of consciousness, his face still had worry written all over it. Rhodey watched him as long as he could, hoping to see even the smallest hope of wakefulness, despite fully knowing it was still too early.
And just as quickly as his visit had begun, it was over. There was no small twitch of Tony’s hand, no subconscious smile at hearing Rhodey’s voice, no picture perfect Hollywood sign that everything was going to be okay.
But none of that mattered. Because their lives were far from perfect. And Rhodey, at least in this moment, could live with that.