Crossroads
He's not that lucky, but he does sleep for days before finally waking up sore, groggy and feeling like an utter ass; but hey, he's alive right? Joy. Tony can't move, let alone breathe on his own at the moment and simply closes his eyes; they must have blocked off his room to have no visitors after it all happened. He doesn't plan on figuring out who the presence was when he was again down for the count. By the time he woke up, he couldn't remember anything, just the presence of someone else around him who hadn't been there. Tony slips in and out of consciousness for so long that every day is dull, and what's the point in paying attention or even being awake for it.
A couple weeks later, Tony is feeling better in a way and manages to move a little bit; he wonders if they've tried to contact anyone about him. But who would there be to call? He has no one; his parents are dead. Thank God for that. It's not like they cared about him, either. And god, he is so fucking angry still he never got the chance to fight back, to make it heard, to pay them back for all the fucking pain he had to live through. All the neglect, the parading, the beatings, the shadow, being the fucking scapegoat for them. Angry tears come to his eyes as he clenches the hand that he'd been staring at over his head into a fist. He wants to scream and throw things and destroy them like they've finally done to him, and this is the fucking best he can be. A pitiful fist shakes slightly in his face, and he struggles to breathe, still wishing he'd stay dead.
There is so much pain, and anger left behind, and he has no left to take it out on, not even himself, and that's the worst part. Hell, they might never let him go. He's sure someone will dump him somewhere so he can be properly forgotten about by everyone else. A psych ward, some fucking dump in the woods, a place on the other side of the world to keep him quiet and out of the way until it won't matter anymore. He's so quickly forgotten, right? I mean, even his own parents forgot about him 90% of the time. Who else would remember him? He has no bloody family, no friends, and nobody on his side looking out for him. Everyone was either the world or worked for him. The tears double, and Toyn finds himself stifling the cries as his chest stutters and burns like a bonfire as he refuses to make a sound. His hand uselessly dropped back onto the bed, his strength long gone, and it only made him even angrier.
The sound of the nurses rushing in as his monitors start going wild makes him want to scream, but then there is a pinch, and he's dragged back into the darkness. Again, his body relaxes against his will as he's dragged back under, and this time, he fights it, not wanting to go back. He tries to call his way back to consciousness, screaming at the top of his lungs, but nothing works, and soon enough, he's trapped in the darkness of his own mind. He's not sure what shut down his mind, but it's no longer the mind he took pride in and loved spending time in. Now it's a cold, dead, empty place with no life left, just barely enough to function, and now he's trapped in it. Tony wants to swear to some god that if he makes it out of this okay, he'll be better, stop the drinking and drugs, and live life properly. But that would be a lie, as the only thing keeping him waking up is the aim of killing himself the next chance he has.
Pulled back into his mind, memories start coming back of the wreck, everything from the crash coming back playing on repeat. Tony is soon screaming for it to stop spiralling into hysterics as he has to watch and hear and feel it over and over again. Then a building in his chest, and the pain spreads before it snuffs out, and Tony sees a light stream through his closed eyes so far away from him. He feels so small and scared as the light shines through, but he's miles away from it. Even if he tried, he'd never reach it in time. Tony curls himself into a ball, pulling at his hair, praying for it all to go away and leave him alone. He's done. He doesn't care anymore. He wants nothing, just to be left alone, forgotten and uncared for. He wants nothing but numbness now.
Tony isn't sure how long the medication to calm him down lasted or what they had to do to get him back, but he is again on the plane of the living. He's not alone; someone sits by him, and unlike the time he was in the coma, Tony remembers this man and everything else. Unlike the coma, where he doesn't remember anything minus a presence and muffled quiet voices, this man is clear in his memories. The recognition show's in his eyes as the man lowers the book he's been reading and meets Tony's eyes over it. He's soft and calm, just like he remembered a familiar cool air, and his deep voice, when he talks, is smooth and confident.
"We meet again," The man, Fury, says
"You look tired," Fury notes, and Tony just stares blankly with hazy eyes as the oxygen hisses and wheezes.
"I came to talk, but I was surprised to find out you nearly died on me again. That's a nasty habit, you know, and clearly, the toll has gotten big enough for you to feel," Fury says, leaning over as he talks, thumb sliding across the bags under Tony's eyes.
"You look mighty dead, kid," Fury sighs, almost soft and fond.
This time the word kid strikes something in Tony's memories from a long time ago. Back when he still thought he mattered and people loved him. He had to be under four, still gullible, and a baby through and through when he heard someone calling him kid in a similar voice. It'd been ages at this point, and the word only struck three times in his mind, just a hazy half-assed memory nowhere near clear enough to actually count as one.
"Try not to die on me and actually live through this, alright? You got a long life ahead of you, and I still want that talk," Fury says before getting up and taking his book with him.
Tony watches the man leave before his eyes droop, and he sinks back into slumber, not having enough energy to do anything else, or anything at all, really. But, hell, if Tony isn't going die, can he hurry up and get better than at least talking back enough to tell people to leave him alone? Can he recover enough to leave and stay awake? Can this just be over, and his life falls apart enough that he can pick through the rumble and come out the other side. But, God, he just wants this over with either way, and since he can't seem to die, he might as well live.
Tony isn't asking to live life well; he isn't asking for love or friends or family; he's not asking for kindness or karma. He's simply asking to live peacefully with himself. Tony wouldn't dare ask for love, friends, family, a place in the world or something that would matter; why dare when the world has never shown kindness to you or tricked you with him. Just wants to live and die like any other aimless person no one cares about.