III
Acute kidney failure and hemorrhaging brought on
by a severe case of anaplasmosis — that was Dr. Ratchford’s tentative
diagnosis. And unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it but
continue to pump Tony full of doxycycline and other supportive medications
until he turned a corner.
If he turned a corner,
that is. If Tony could muster enough of an immune response,
despite his missing spleen, to keep his place among the living. Though the
doctor was generally optimistic that Tony would recover with the right
treatment, his chances were not 100%.
When Rhodey stopped by Tony’s private room that
evening with Morgan in tow, this is what Pepper told him — and the news only
added to the surrealism of the circumstances. Just a few days prior, he’d joked
around with Tony on the armor’s comms as he streaked back from a minor tussle
with a reedy pissant of a mad scientist who’d decided, for shits and giggles,
to unveil his new goo monster in the middle of a wedding in Central Park. As
they’d argued over which was worse, black organic slime or baby spew, Tony had
sounded perfectly fine. But now?
“How the hell did this happen so quickly?”
Rhodey asked, setting Morgan’s diaper bag and her baby carrier - with its
napping occupant - down on a padded bench that took up the far wall by the
window. Bunched up on one corner of the bench, he noted, were a pillow and a thin
peach blanket. “Was there any sign at all he was getting this sick?”
At Tony’s bedside, Pepper pressed her hands
against her puffy eyes, then brushed them once through her limp ginger hair.
“Other than the bad headache he mentioned a few hours before we called you, no.
But the doctor says this kind of rapid decline isn’t unheard of — especially
for someone with Tony’s medical history.”
Rhodey looked up at the screen that hung above
Pepper’s head - where Tony’s temperature blinked red, a steady 101.8° - then
approached the bed rail and squeezed the ailing engineer’s shoulder. Tony’s
eyes fluttered open in response.
“You need to quit scaring the crap out of us
like this, Mr. Stank,” Rhodey snarked. “I’m getting a little tired of this
routine.”
Tony’s gaze flicked left — then right. “Wha’
happen?” he mumbled, his words almost indistinct.
Rhodey squinted, perplexed. “You’re in the
hospital. You don’t remember?”
“Sometimes he doesn’t,” Pepper said. “He’s been
drifting in and out of awareness.”
Tony slowly reached up, tremors quaking through
his hand, and tugged at the cannula in his nose. “Off.” The word was forced out
with a cough, but it still managed to sound petulant.
“I don’t think so, Tony,” Rhodey warned, seizing
Tony’s wandering fingers before they could pull anything free. “I think you
better leave that where it is.” Tony growled low in his throat and twisted
against Rhodey’s restraining hold. “Whoa, hey, stop. Relax. You’ve got tubes
hooked up in places I don’t even wanna think about. Just go back to sleep,
okay?”
Tony puffed in agitation - his muscles stiff,
his eyes wet - for several minutes before he finally settled and succumbed to
unconsciousness. God, I love you, but you’re a bullheaded little shit.
“It’s hard to see him like this.” Pepper’s voice
wavered, and she took a deep breath, sitting up a bit straighter, evidently
determined to put on a brave face. “I just keep thinking about those first few
days after —”
Rhodey knew exactly what Pepper meant. “Yeah, I
know.” He ran his thumb along the black-and-blue spots that speckled the back
of Tony’s hand, trying - but failing - to banish the memory that flashed into
the forefront of his mind. Tony — still recovering from traumatic peritonitis.
Tony — dehydrated, starved, his normally keen mind tick-tocking between sense
and nonsense.
Honestly, with Iron Man now officially in
retirement, Rhodey had thought his friend was done — at least for the time
being. It didn’t seem fair, somehow, that right at the moment Tony was finally
getting his life back together - right at the moment he seemed to be healthy
and coping properly with their new reality - something else would come along
and smack him back down.
But: “I think there are a few bright sides here,
though.” Rhodey needed to do something to leaven the mood — to
beat back the encroaching dread.
“Hmm?”
“If he’s still willing to fight being tied down
to a bed, he’s probably gonna make it.”
“He’s too stiff-necked to go. Is that what
you’re saying?” Pepper smiled through unshed tears and smoothed Tony’s bangs
off his sweaty forehead. Though Tony stayed under, he did lean into Pepper’s
touch and whimpered softly. Pepper moved her hand down and cupped her husband’s
stubbled cheek. “Shhh,” she whispered.
“And if the doctor’s right,”
Rhodey continued, “Tony’s gonna have some trouble getting around for a few
months. Which means I finally get to have my revenge for all
those times the prick made himself a royal pain in my ass after Germany.”
The sound Pepper made then fell somewhere
between a chuckle and a sob. “Oh, he’ll love that.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
The pall in the room had cleared — at least a
little.
“Listen, Pepper — why don’t you head home for a
while. I’m sure it was no picnic bunking up here overnight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Nat’s gonna keep me off the call sheet
until Tony’s out at least.” Rhodey scratched the back of his head. “They’re all
worried down at the Compound, by the way. Even Rocket — I think. It’s hard to
tell sometimes what he’s thinking. The furball kinda reminds me of Tony before
he got his head shrunk. Same allergy to feelings.” A pause. “But seriously,
Pepper: go. Tony will creatively and painfully murder me if I let you keel over
from exhaustion.”
Sometime later, after he’d successfully wrangled
Morgan and her mother out the door, Rhodey sat down in the armchair the latter
had vacated and sighed, finally allowing himself to feel the apprehension he’d
been holding back for Pepper’s sake. He couldn’t avoid it any longer: between
the bruising, the sallow complexion, and the rattling of the fluid in his
chest, Tony looked pretty close to death.
“You better not check out on me, Tones,” Rhodey scolded fondly. “Your family needs you.” He bumped Tony’s arm with his fist. “Plus, we had a deal. I’m older. I’m supposed to go first.”
Tony stirred, water leaking from under his eyelids.
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