7 Years (Remix)
They were panicking. Even Natasha, as it pained her to admit it, was panicking. They were confused and scared and didn’t know what to do. Tony was a child. And Tony didn’t remember them. Her little brother was literally little now. She would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that she was panicking. She didn’t know how to deal with this. Aliens, sure. Monsters, check. Emotions, she was getting there. With her team’s help.
But a child. A child with her little brother’s eyes and without his memories. That was different. It hurt, him not remembering her. It’s like all they’ve gone through was nothing. Sure, it wasn’t his fault. But it still hurt.
And as to whose fault it was the jury was still out. It could’ve been his latest experiment. It could’ve been prank from Strange. Or it could’ve been the sorcerer they fought the day before. She would bet on the last one. She didn’t think it was an experiment as he hadn’t talked to her about it. No matter what Tony always rambled to her about his latest experiments, and, even though she didn’t understand most of what he said, she enjoyed his ramblings. And since they came back from Wakanda Tony hadn’t talked to her about any experiment, so he probably hadn’t done anything as dangerous as something that could’ve turned him into a child. As for Strange, well, from what she heard he was smart, he probably knew what a prank like that could cause if the public found out about Tony being a child. So, the evil sorcerer it was. Still, they needed to know more.
“We need to call Strange” she spoke up, her voice raising above the others’. They had been introduced to Strange’s work as a sorcerer and a supporter of the accords by Tony in Wakanda. They had never met the man personally, but had heard great things from Tony about him and Wong.
“I’m still not sure he’s Stark” Steve said, his brows furrowed, the same argument he has been making for the past fifteen minutes over and over ready to start again.
“Then Strange will be able to confirm who he is” she said “but we need to call him now. If the child is Tony, then we need to get him back to himself as soon as possible”
Everyone agreed, nodding, and a moment later Steve was on the phone
“I’ll go check on Tony” Nat told Clint who nodded back at her
***
Tony had never been a crier, crying was wrong, crying was weak, but right then and there, kneeling on the grave of his parental figures, he found he couldn’t give a fuck. He cried hard and long, sobbing till his throat hurt and his head pounded. He cried until he couldn’t and then he laid down on his side between the two graves, hugging himself in the cold mud and trying to remember how it felt to be held by them. The memories came easily, and he could almost smile if only he found the strength to. But he couldn’t. Not now, probably never again.
He was just so tired, he just wanted to sleep… just wanted to sleep- and suddenly all he could see was red, red pouring out his wrists and all he could hear was the beeping at the door of his bathroom from the bots but he was too tired to comfort them and all he could feel was a numbness constricting his chest now that he had lost his teamhis friends his family and- and then it was gone as fast as it had come, leaving his head feeling like it had been split open.
He would have groaned at the pain, but what good did showing he was in pain do if there wasn’t anyone to show it to. So he stayed silent, willing himself to be strong. And then he remembered the red and the beeping and the numbness, the flashback(?) still fresh in his mind. He didn’t need to be strong anymore, there was no reason to, there was no one to be strong for. No more. He could be weak, the bastard who was the whole reason he had to be strong was dead, his absent mother for whom he pretended to be okay was dead, Jar- he shivered, Jarvis and Ana were dead and all he wanted was to be held and cry till he fell unconscious or died of dehydration. Either one was okay with him.
And then he remembered.
Aunt Peggy
He was ready to get up and start searching for information about her- the last of his hope tucked tight in a corner of his mind, trying desperately to stay alive instead of dying out when suddenly his headache came back tenfold it’s earlier strength and he blacked out
***
They were panicking. Not like before, now they were truly panicking. The kid was gone, Tony was gone and they didn’t know where he was- if he was okay. If he had run away or if someone had taken him. They couldn’t get FRIDAY to answer and all she could think about was the moment he found out about his parents being dead. There was something there. The way he had just accepted the situation, the way he cried- something was definitely off about the whole thing. There was no disbelief, no anger- not even confusion, just… acceptance. And what seemed to be heartbreak but wasn’t. Because she knew heartbreak, and that wasn’t it. It felt fake, forced and maybe even a little relieved. But why…?
Maybe he thought they were lying? If he thought that then… he had probably gone to check on his parents, but where-
A portal opened and Stephen Strange stepped out of it, followed by a man who was probably Wong, their faces impassive and yet she could clearly read anger in their eyes
***
Stephen was angry. He knew he shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even met these people. He didn’t know their side of the story. After all, he barely knew Tony’s. But he was there, in the aftermath of the Civil War. He had met him just a few months after the disastrous event. He had seen what they had done to Tony.
He had barely known Tony before the mess that was the Civil War, meeting him briefly at galas and charities he went to before the car accident. And the brief impression Tony made on him wasn’t that much of an impression in the first place. It was more like a small glimpse of the mask he was wearing. It was brash and arrogant and most of all it wasnot, simply put, the hero type.
He barely stomached the idea of talking to someone so self-centered, at the time not knowing the whole “Tony fucking Stark” persona was just a disguise to protect the fragile soul beneath it. But then, after the ‘Civil War’ thing happened, Wong insisted Stephen talk with the last standing Avenger about the impending Sokovia Accords. He had of courseargued against it, not wanting to meet the pompous asshole, but Wong had as always been right in his worries about the repercussion of the Accords on the Sanctum Sanctorum.
And so they had decided to set up a meeting with the infamous creator. And by ‘set up’ Stephen had of course meant ‘showing up unexpectedly and without any warning whatsoever in the man’s living room’. With comically wide eyes and an open mouth, the expression of fear on the inventor face and the consequential fall had been funny enough at the start, and it would have even drawn a smile from Stephen and Wong if it weren’t for the fact that it was accompanied by trembling breaths and shaking hands and Stark’s frantic scrambling back from them, trying to get up with unsteady arms. As the action brought a pain filled whimper to his lips just before he collapsed Stephen and Wong had shared a concerned glance while Stark’s breathing had become faster and faster. Laying on his side he had balled up his body, arms tight around his chest, knees drawn against his arms and head down, his whole frame protecting... something.
And then Stephen had remembered about the blue light he had seen in the man’s chest in so many interviews, the light almost every single reporter in the country had tried to ask about, but the light no one had been able to get any other information other than the name Arc Reactor, and that it probably powered the Iron Man suit.
But then, if it did power the Iron Man suit, why hadn’t Stark called one of the suits to protect him instead of balling up to protect the Arc Reactor itself?
He had looked at Wong again noticing the man slowly moving towards Stark. Stephen had followed his friend’s example and got slowly closer to the man, keeping himself low to the ground to make himself smaller and less threatening, treating Stark as if he was a scared animal.
But just as he had taken a step in Stark’s direction, a whirring sound had startled him making him look up just in time to see an Iron Man suit braking through the ceiling and landing between them and the inventor, metallic hands raised threateningly towards them. “Take another step towards Boss and you’re dead” the voice of a young woman had threatened seriously.
“Who are you?” Stephen had asked, readying himself for a fight
“Shouldn’t I be asking that question, seeing as you barged into our home with no warning?” The woman had replied
Wong had answered that question before Stephen could “we don’t mean any harm to you or to Stark, we just wanted to talk with him” he said calmly, raising his hands in a sign of peace and giving him a warning look that promised a long, long lecture if he didn’t do the same
Stephen had rolled his eyes but raised his hands.
“As for who we are-”
“I know who you are” the woman had interrupted, making him look at Wong and raise an eyebrow in question, to which the older sorcerer shrugged. “You are Stephen Strange, the famous surgeon who went missing a couple of months ago. And now you are Sorcerer Supreme, and your friend there is Wong, also a sorcerer”
Stephen’s eyes had widened and his mouth had hung open. No one was supposed to know that “how did- how did you even-”
At their shocked expressions she had just shrugged, or as much as she could in the suit “Boss told me to keep an eye on you” she said casually, looking at him specifically. “Now, if you would kindly wait here while I deal with Boss’ panic attack, I would be eternally grateful. And by ‘eternally grateful’ I mean ‘I won’t blast to hell the goatees off your faces’, and that would be a shame, seeing as Boss has been looking for a facial hair bro for quite some time” after that she had just turned around, crouching in front of Stark, blocking their view of him and telling him the year, month, day and hour in calming and soothing voice.
When he started calming she kept going, describing to him the room, and telling him that he was fine, the witch wasn’t there, he was okay now, she hadn’t been for a while, and the he was fine, he was okay.
Finally his breathing had calmed down and he had started regaining his bearings. His eyes were still a bit foggy and he looked worn out, but when his eyes had landed on them, he had startled, flinching and his breathing had hitched.
The woman had instantly reassured him “it’s okay, Boss, they’re not gonna hurt you” she said confidently, then, turning to them “right?” She asked in a mildly threatening tone
They had been quick to nod and raise their hands, partly because yeah, they obviously didn’t want to hurt him, and partly because they really, really didn’t want to disagree with the unnamed woman, as they didn’t want to get in her black list (she was terrifying)
“Actually” she had continued “you” she had said turning to Stephen “you are a doctor still, correct?”
“Well” he started “technically I’m not anymo-”
“Yeah yeah, I know, but you must remember the basics of your previous job, right?” She had cut him off
“Of course I remember! Who do you take me for?!” He had asked indignantly
“A man who’s wearing a cape and makes balloon animals for profession?” She had deadpanned
Wong had snorted
“I’ll let you know I protect your reality, Missy” Stephen had said in a derisive tone
She had crossed her arms “Wow, I retract my statement, you’re one of kind, so special, would you like a prize?” She had asked as if talking to a child “for your information, Boss has been protecting Earth for years” she had huffed “now, would you like to be helpful and be able to get out of here with your ego in one piece or would you prefer to keep try to win the ‘who’s got the biggest dick’ contest?”
He was fuming by this point, and Wong had to answer before he could loose his cool “we’d like to help anyway we can” Wong said holding his arm in a silent warning. After all, they didn’t want to make an enemy out of Stark or this young woman. He looked at the engineer, that by then was slumped against the wall and had fallen unconscious
Huh, Stephen had almost forgotten about the inventor
“How can I help?” He had asked
“Uhm- well, I..” the woman’s voice had suddenly seemed insecure “I need help with Boss” she had stated “I- you’re a doctor and he just had an… accident- nobody knows. And I hoped you could- I mean, if you are willing-” and she had seemed to steel herself before speaking again “will you look at the injury? Please?” She had pleaded “I mean, I know you don’t do that anymore, but- please? It’s already scarred but he is having trouble moving his hands and- I- I can’t- he won’t let me” she had stuttered to a stop, looking down, apparently frustrated. If with herself or Stark he didn’t know. Finally, she had looked up again “he won’t let me call a doctor or- well, anyone. And since he’s unconscious maybe you could look at the injury?” She had ended hopefully
“Uhh” Stephen had eloquently said before actually talking “I’m sorry, I can’t just look at him without his consensus”
“Oh, that’ okay! I’m actually Boss’ next of kin, and seeing as he’s unconscious I can decide for him!”
“And how do I know you’re not lying to me?” He had asked
“Well, Boss wouldn’t just let anyone near one of his suits” she had a point there “also, seeing as he created me to look after him, it’s literally in my programming to make sure he’s safe, I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried” she had said happily “which I wouldn’t” she had been quick to reassure them
His brain had stopped dead in his tracks “I’m sorry what?”
She had cocked her head like a lost puppy “what what?”
“He ‘created’ you? As in- you’re a robot?” He had asked, looking at his friend in distress, afraid of the possibility of being in the presence of one such thing
“Ohh, no, no no” she said “I’m not a robot!” She had said almost laughing at them
He and Wong had both relaxed for a fraction of second before she had continued
“I’m an A.I.!”
He had paused “I’m sorry, you’re a what now?!” He had asked
“An artificial intelligence. Also, rude, I’m a who, not a what” she had said “talk about objectifying” she had muttered under her breath, which she technically didn’t have, and- yep he had definitely been freaking out. When she had looked at them again she introduced herself “I’m Friday, successor of J.A.R.V.I.S. and, before you ask, no, I’m nothing like Ultron”
He had stood there, eyebrows raised and had looked at Wong for help. The man ha given him a nod, and he had looked at the woman Friday once more “okay, I’ll help you”
“Thank you” she had breathed out. She had turned around and picked up her creator bridal style to move him to the couch
“What should I be looking at?” He had asked
“His arms” had come the hesitant response
He had knelt, rolling a sleeve up to look a the arm and- he had frozen
There was a scar, a long, jagged and bright pink scar that went from his wrist to almost his elbow. That- that meant- no. It- it couldn’t be. Stark, the way the television had portrayed him- he was bigger than life, he wouldn’t have… he wouldn’t have tried right? Everyone knew how he was, and everyone knew that although he was self destructive, he wasn’t suicidal.
He had rolled up his other sleeve and saw the same scar
He couldn’t believe…
A grunt had made him snap out of his shock. He had looked up and had seen Stark slowly opening his bleary eyes, looking around tiredly and gasping as soon as he saw them and his -by then uncovered- scars. He had tried to scramble back from them as much as he could on the couch. He had sent a betrayed look towards Friday before lowering his sleeves, and looking at them wildly
“Please- please don’t tell anyone” he had pleaded, desperate for them to listen to him
So, yeah, he had been there for the inventor after the so called Civil War. Once Stark had realized he wasn’t gonna tell, he had let Stephen see the real damage done during the Civil War, and had let him help. Stephen had informed himself better on what actually happened during the aforementioned war and on the Accords.
And Stark had quickly become Tony
And Tony, the real Tony, had so much trauma, both physical and mental, that he could barely believe it.
Tony was broken and they had broken him.
So, when he found himself standing in a room full of panicking Avengers, sans Tony, Stephen was angry. He knew he shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even met these people. He didn’t know their side of the story. After all, he barely knew Tony’s. But he was there, in the aftermath of the Civil War. He had seen what they had done to Tony. They destroyed his self-esteem, his ego was non-exiting, and he was neck deep in self hatred. He didn’t sleep because of fear of the nightmares, he had lost interest in building anything and he barely even remembered put on jackets or shoes when he did go out (which was almost never). He got confused, not remembering the day or hour or even month, he had panic attacks at least twice a day, he had no appetite whatsoever, and he showered with scorching hot water so often his skin was always red when he came out. He obviously had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Depression as well as Anxiety.
Stephen didn’t like to repeat himself but he would only this once:
Tony Stark was broken, and the Avengers had broken him.
He took in a deep breath and replied to Romanov’s nod with one of his own. “Where is he?” He asked as calmly as possible.
“That’s the problem” said Barton, annoying him already and making a headache know
He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly “please, don’t tell me you’ve lost the boy already?”
* * *
Tony woke up coughing, trembling and shivering, thoughts fuzzy and jumbled in his pounding head. He felt like there was something he should really remember, but all he could think about was the dream (flashback?) he just had. He remembered only bits and pieces, but it explained why he had the scars on his arms. He rolled slowly onto his back looking up at the grey sky, his head swimming and his body feeling heavy even though he was laying down on… something -mushy? He wanted to look, but he just felt so tired, even looking to the side felt like a feat. He supposed it might be mud, like the mud he was in before he blacked out.
Wait, why was he in the mud in the first place? Howard was gonna kill him if he got dirt in his house. And Jarvis would go all mother-hen on him if he got a cold. He looked up at the sky once more and- wait when had he closed his eyes?
He needed to move. Get inside the mansion. Reassure Jarvis and Ana that he was okay. But maybe they wouldn’t mind if he took a nap, right? After all, thy alway said he needed more sleep.
He closed his eyes.
* * *
Stephen was fuming. They had lost Tony. What the hell was wrong with them?! He ranted to Wong as he performed a intricate mandala in the air to find the kid.
After maybe half an hour, he was able to locate him. Apparently he was in a graveyard. What was he doing there? He didn’t know. He sighed and opened a portal to the location.
“You found him?” Romanov asked worriedly
Letting Wong pass, he just turned from them before getting through, closing the portal in the Avengers’ faces just as they stepped near it to come through.
He looked around, not seeing Tony, before noticing a little body curled up in the mud between two gravestones. He ran towards him, noticing the boy must have fallen unconscious for whatever reason. He knelt by him, pressing a hand to his damp forehead. He was burning up. Stephen wrapped Cloak, who didn’t seem to mind at all, around the boy and picked him up. “He has a fever” he mumbled to Wong before opening another portal.
He shooed the Avengers from the room and laid the boy on the bed, and, for the first time, he got a good look at him. He was caked in mud, his clothes wet and his skin damp. He was shivering, jaw clenched and eyes scrunched tightly shut in a way that suggested he was either having a nightmare or was in pain. As soon as he had laid him down the boy had balled up, his whole frame protecting his chest where he probably had the Arc Reactor and resembling so much Tony in their first encounter that Stephen had no doubt in his mind this boy was Tony Stark. He still made an identifying spell and was proven correct in his belief that the boy was Tony. He made a quick spell to clean him, then one to diagnose his medical condition, which revealed not only a high fever, but a multitude of other medical conditions that Stephen was already aware of. After all, he had become Tony’s doctor after the fiasco that was their first encounter.
He looked at the various chemicals in Tony’s bloodstream noticing the missing one. The pain killers. “Goddammit Tony” he murmured tiredly.
“What? What is it?” Asked Wong worriedly
He sighed “he hasn’t been taking the pain killers” Wong clenched his jaw and put a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, knowing how hard it had been for him to convince Tony to take them in the first place.
“How long?” Wong asked
He looked back up and did another spell to be able to see how long had it been since he last took them “since he went to Wakanda to get the Rogues” he said clenching his trembling hands, the pain grounding him in his rage. He didn’t need murder charges for killing the Avengers. Even if it would be incredibly satisfying. But he couldn’t without Tony blaming himself. And that just made him angrier. How could such a smart man blame himself for others’ mistakes?! “Fuck!” he spat brokenly. He put his head in his left hand and felt Wong squeeze his shoulder tightly, trying to comfort him “he was doing so well” he said, letting out a long breath “he was taking the pain meds and eating almost regularly and even starting to sleep more than three hours a night!”
He sighed and looked back up, his hands on his hips, shaking his head to rid himself of the tears that tried to escape. He looked back at the words floating in the air “he has been barely eating and barely sleeping. The nightmares and flashbacks are worse than ever and the ptsd is back full force, not to mention the depression worsening day by day and the anxiety running sky high!” He kept reading “and” he stopped, laughing mirthlessly “guess who’s back? The suicidal thoughts!” He exclaimed before putting his head in his hands once more “Wong” he said with a tad of desperation in his voice before looking at the man “how could we let him go back to those cretins?”
“Come on Stephen, you know Tony, he is as stubborn as they come, we couldn’t change his mind and there’s nothing we can do about it now” Wong said and Stephen let his head fall in defeat “how are the scars healing up?”
He sighed at the question and rolled up the sleeves to check them, noticing that they were healing up nicely. God, it hurt so much every time he checked them “they’re fine” he sat himself heavily on the armchair near the bed and looked at the boy, hoping that at least the de-aging wouldn’t be permanent, God knows Tony shouldn’t be this vulnerable around the rogues and-
A whimper distracted him from his thoughts, making him lean closer to the child and brush his hair back from his forehead, Cloak wrapping itself tighter around Tony in an effort to comfort him. The kid just whimpered louder mumbling something about a- ‘Jarvis?’
He looked at Wong, confused
Who the hell was Jarvis?