Dead and Cold
Stephen was baffled. He had done a scan on Tony and everything turned out normal. And that was the problem. From what he gathered Tony should have, at least mentally, been his adult self. The memories were there and, at first glance, free. But then he looked more closely and found the problem:
There was a barrier. An impenetrable magical barrier like nothing he’d ever seen before. It was marked by a strong magical signature and, most importantly, one he didn’t know. He didn’t recognize it as any of the sorcerers he had met and that was a startling revelation, for on earth he had met most of them, including the one who had attacked Tony and should have been responsible for the de-aging. But it certainly wasn’t the evil sorcerer’s, as this one was stronger than most, comparable only to Stephen himself.
And the barrier was a work of art, only with years- decades of studying could one achieve such mastery of the mystical arts as to create anything even similar to it.
Still, it wasn’t perfect. He could see it leaking memories in certain points, and that was so very worrying. Because that meant it was done quickly, carelessly, like the work of someone inexperienced and yet with the amount of power that would tare buildings apart.
That barrier, the same one that would take decades to learn to create, spoke of inexperience and a power beyond anything Stephen had yet seen.
And that was the problem.
* * *
He awoke slowly, the melody in his ear still playing faintly before dissolving along with the warmth of his mother’s hand on the back of his neck. He whined, leaning back in search of the warmth, his fingers still twitching on non-existing piano keys. But there was no warmth, no piano, and no mamma
His eyes opened and he felt so tired he felt numb. The memories came back and tears immediately fell from his eyes onto the pillow below him. He let out a shuddering breath and slowly looked around to see if anyone was there. No one was.
He was alone
A startled laugh made its way to his lips, but he held it back, almost choking on the lump in his throat. The empty room was mirroring his situation perfectly. Of course he was alone, the only people who ever loved him were dead, who would care about him if not them? No one, that’s who.
He was alone
His eyes went past the windows before jerking back to them. His thoughts started to get fuzzy, his eyes stuck to the windows, and the answer to the loneliness he felt so deeply was right in front of him. He half-heartedly tried to look away, but he just couldn’t. His thoughts jumbled, his heart steady and his eyes puffy and tired he slid from the bed, making his way around it to the windows his eyes were stuck on. Calmly, so calmly it would have been scary had he still been in his right mind, he walked towards the glass and, after taking a breath he put his hand on the handle of the window beyond which was his answer
One twist of the handle that kept the window closed and he would be okay, or better yet, one twist and he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be anything but a memory. Just like his family was to him. A memory, nothing more, nothing less. One twist a small climb and a fall, that’s all it took. Anxiety twisted in his stomach. He was tired, he didn’t know if he even had the strength to climb the window. But he couldn’t not do it.
Okay, he had to think small, one step at a time. One twist, one twist he could do.
He took a deep breath
He twisted
For a moment, he felt too numb to think. It was spreading, the numbness. Still, he felt like he should have laughed at the irony. The first time he’s not afraid to do the deed, to do the one thing he could do right and he couldn’t. Because it didn’t open
It didn’t open and all he could do was try not to cry and the injustice of it all. Why? Why couldn’t he just end it? Just stop? Just- die.
He remembers the first time Howard asked him that same question. Why? Why couldn’t Tony just die like should have? Why couldn’t he be good for once and do what was right? Who would care after all? Certainly not Howard!
At the time, he didn’t answer, not because he couldn’t find a reason, but because he could. Because he had Ana and Jarvis at the time and he didn’t need to voice the fact that they would have been devastated if he had died to be sure of it.
But now he had nothing, not even his memories and he couldn’t remember how he’d answered Howard when he surely had asked Tony after the death of Ana and Jarvis. He didn’t know how he managed to live past their death-
(a nagging thought at the back of his mind told him the truth, that his mother had changed- that if not for himself he’d lived for Maria, for mamma, for the person she became after the day with the pills, but he couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his own heart)
(Another thought argued that it wouldn’t have done any good even if he had heard, because she- Maria, mamma- was dead too)
-he couldn’t remember his answer to Howard’s question, and he didn’t think it would have mattered anyway since his thoughts were getting even more scrambled and all he could hear was the rushing of air from his lungs and the pounding of his heart and a whistle in his left ear. He clawed at the glass- he needed to get out- he needed to get- he couldn’t climb if he didn’t twist the handle- and he couldn’t fall if couldn’t climb- and he couldn’t breathe- he needed to get out he-
Arms closed around his middle and only then did he notice the voices trying to soothe him and get him away form the red glass, and oh no- he needed to get out! They couldn’t take him away! He needed to fall! He needed to go! He needed air he neededhelppleasehelpplease-
Everything went dark
* * *
Natasha was scared. There was something wrong with the situation and she didn’t know what. Actually, there was plenty wrong with the situation that she did know, but there was something more. Something in the way the child- Tony, had cried, the acceptance in his composure, the fact that he relaxed with them after having heard about his parents’ death when a moment before he was ready to jump of a roof to get away from them. The fact that he hadtried to jump off a fucking roof in the first place.
So yes, she was scared. Terrified actually.
The feeling didn’t ease while waiting for Strange to come out of Tony’s room, nor when he came out looking grim and wrong footed.
Strange was explaining to them what he discovered, just outside of the bedroom, everyone focused on the man’s words. Everyone but her, as she was distracted from the explanation by a whimper so small she barely heard it, even with her enhancements. It was probably nothing, she reassured herself, a nightmare probably. She tried to concentrate on the words Strange was speaking, but something felt wrong.
She tried to ignore the feeling, but then- a sob, she heard it clear as day. She moved towards the door
But Strange moved in the way, blocking her putting a hand up “he needs rest” he cautioned
“He’s awake” she answered simply
His brows furrowed “no that… can’t be” he stated slowly, as if questioning his own words after seeing her raised eyebrow “he should have been resting for at least another three hours” he seemed puzzled
She ignored his musings and went around him, opening the door in one swift movement. She heard him before she saw him, her eyes automatically scanning the bed before looking towards the sound of the hysterical hiccuping and the thump- thump- thump that she couldn’t identify until she saw his little fists hitting the bulletproof window erratically and- oh god was that blood?!
She ran forward wrapping her arms around his middle and yanking him away form the glass, his scream of desperation putting a ringing in her ears that didn’t leave even after Strange had magically put him to sleep. Small cries of ‘help please help’ echoing in her mind as she stared at his sleeping form, scratches on her arms from his clawing at her to let him free- let him fall, as he said.
She took his left hand in her own, and started cleaning the battered, bloodied skin, her heart lurching at the reminder of what he’d done to himself. He was just a child. A child who had tried to hurt himself twice in the span of a few hours, and had succeeded in almost breaking his own hands, his skin cut open and his blood lazily oozing from the wounds.
There was something wrong
She didn’t know what
And she was terrified