Three Cheers for the Great Outdoors, Part Two
Summary:
By the summer of 2019, Tony had fought terrorists, Asgardian gods, space leviathans, Hydra goons, supersoldiers, and giant purple aliens with delusions of grandeur — and had narrowly cheated death every time.
This story isn’t about one of those epic battles, though. This story is about that time Mother Nature tried to kill him
(Did I dream up this scenario as an excuse to write Tony whump? Why yes, yes I did.)
(In case you missed it: Part One)
(In case you missed it: Part One)
--*--
II
“If you’re looking for Morgan’s bottles, they’re
on the third shelf in the fridge.”
“I know. Don’t worry, Pepper. This isn’t my
first babysitting gig.”
Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m
sorry. I just —”
Pepper was sitting alone in a family meeting
room, her Starkphone active on the table in front of her. Next to Rhodey’s
floating image sat several dog-eared magazines that, judging from their covers,
long predated the Halving. Perusing them was like unearthing a
time capsule. That reality TV star? Gone. Major League Baseball? On its last
legs. So many frivolities. So much wasted time.
“Any news on our Shellhead?” Rhodey asked, his
tone kind. Pepper could see he was standing in their kitchen, holding Morgan in
the crook of his left elbow.
“No. They stabilized him with cooling blankets
and took some blood samples, but I still don’t know what’s wrong. One of the
nurses brought me in here to consult with the attending, but she still hasn’t
showed.”
“Well, you and I both know the crap Tony’s been
through. If he can survive a one-on-one with Thanos, I’m pretty sure he’s
immortal.”
Pepper wished she had Rhodey’s apparent
confidence. “God, you should’ve seen him. When they finally got him onto that
ambulance, he was hallucinating.” She sighed. “I just hope whatever this is
doesn’t cause any permanent damage. He’s dealt with enough trauma already.”
“Ms. Potts?”
Pepper looked up. In the doorway stood a prim
little brunette clad in green scrubs and a lab coat. “Rhodey, I think the
doctor’s here now. I’ll call you back once I know more.”
“I’ll be here.”
Pepper waved the projection closed and slipped
the phone into the pocket of her jeans. “Dr. Ratchford?”
Ratchford walked up and shook hands before
taking the seat beside Pepper and setting Tony’s chart - presumably - on her
lap. “I’ve gotten the initial test results back,” the doctor began, “and we’ve
found several concerning abnormalities.”
Pepper’s heart sank. “Okay,” she said after
taking a deep breath. “What are we looking at?”
“Based on the blood counts and his symptoms, I
think Mr. Stark has a severe bacterial infection. We won’t know exactly which
one until we run a few more tests, but I’ve already started him on some
antibiotics to address the more dangerous possibilities in the meantime.”
“So you have theories.”
“I do. But if you can walk me through his recent
history, I might be able to narrow things down.”
--*--
Tony was falling — down, down through the
emptiness of space. Down, down, inexorably down — with nothing but the lights
of cold and distant stars to note his passing. He opened his mouth to shout -
to beg for help - but there was nothing — an endless, soundless, bottomless
nothing that filled his air passages and silenced his fruitless pleas.
He was being strangled. He was being strangled
by the void.
Jerking violently, Tony gasped himself awake —
then threw up his arms to shield himself against the surprise assault of light
and sound.
“Tony!”
More alarms. Tony curled his knees up against
his middle, his teeth chattering and clacking inside his jaw, his chest caving
in as he fought for every last ounce of precious, precious oxygen.
“Please, I know what’s happening. Let me —”
Bodies shifted, and someone clasped Tony’s wrist. “Tony, you’re in the
hospital, but you’re safe. Just focus on me and breathe, okay?”
It took a long time for the fear to subside —
for Tony to unfold and chance a glance at Pepper’s warped and fuzzy face.
“Cold,” he choked.
“They’ve got a cooling blanket on you to keep
your temperature down.”
“I can’t —” A lump formed in Tony’s throat. “I
can’t really see you.”
“Doctor?”
A pert young woman approached the
bed and tilted Tony’s head back so she could examine his eyes. Tony hissed each
time the light of the ophthalmoscope hit his retinas.
“Your optic discs are a little swollen, Mr.
Stark,” the doctor finally concluded.
“Is it — is it permanent?”
“Unlikely. You don’t have meningococcal
meningitis, which was our first big worry. The lumbar puncture and the brain
scans all came up normal — which means the inflammation is probably a neuritis
that’ll eventually clear up on its own.”
“How long?”
“Four to twelve weeks on average.”
The lump in Tony’s throat seemed to double in
size. “What’s happening to me?”
“We won’t know for a few days, but right now,
our best guess is a rickettsial disease. Your wife mentioned you’ve been
spending a lot of time outside in your garden over the past few weeks. Do you
remember getting bitten by a tick, Mr. Stark?”
“No.”
“Well, not every patient does. Actually, if this
is what I think it is, most patients don’t end up in the hospital either.”
“Jus’ me?”
“You and anyone else with a compromised immune
system.”
“Fuckin’ special.” Tony’s face crumpled, and he
buried it in the rough cotton of his sheet.
--*--
“Dr. Ratchford,” Pepper interrupted. “Can you
give us some time alone?” She could see that Tony was on the edge and knew he’d
appreciate some privacy.
“Of course.”
Ratchford motioned for the nurse to follow her,
and the two of them filed out the door.
For a time, Pepper let the cardiac monitor and
Tony’s labored breathing fill the silence. Then she pulled up her chair and
started stroking Tony’s arm and the back of his hand. “Tony,” she murmured.
“I can’t.”
“Shh. Stop worrying and just rest.”
“I can’t be half blind for three months. What
about the carbon reclamator? What about the baby?” Coughing, Tony rolled over,
turning his back to Pepper.
Pepper couldn’t help but notice the moisture
that glistened on Tony’s cheeks.
“Oh, Tony. You know we have help. We have Happy
and Rhodey — and a rebuilding R&D department to pitch in with the work side
of things. Besides,” she added, climbing into the bed and hugging Tony close,
“I think you’re forgetting your own ingenuity. Surely the man who built Iron
Man in a cave with a box of scraps can adapt to some temporary vision loss.
Right?”
The monitor continued to beep out Tony’s rapid
but steady heartbeat.
“Okay,” Tony said, his voice raw.
Pepper sat up and kissed a trail of salt by
Tony’s ear. She was sure Tony would be able to confront this like he confronted
everything else — with fierce tenacity, stubbornness, and, yes, a touch of
pride. And she was sure Tony knew it too.
She was sure, that is, until Tony woke up the
following morning and peed blood.
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