Three Cheers for the Great Outdoors, Part Seven
(In case you missed it: Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six)
VII
The hospital released Tony on a warm and sticky Friday — and it
was not a moment too soon. Thanks to the rehab wing’s rudimentary cable, he was
getting dangerously addicted to the Food Network for some unaccountable reason,
which was making him crave things the nephrologist had definitely
put on the no-no list — at least for the next few months.
After climbing into the passenger side of his convertible - on his
own power, thank you very much - Tony settled back into his seat
with a deep sigh. Even with his aviators, the brilliant August sunshine made
his eyes throb fiercely, so he screwed them shut and reached out with his other
senses, quietly appreciating the well-worn leather upholstery beneath his hands
— and the insistent trill of a solitary bird that had lit on a nearby bush. Poor
bastard, Tony thought of his feathered friend. I’m guessing the pickings
on Bird Tinder are a bit slim.
“Everything okay?” Pepper asked after she’d thrown Tony’s bag in
the trunk and thanked the hovering orderly.
“Always,” Tony returned with a smile. And it wasn’t a total
lie. After all, he was going home. His hands were literally itching
with a desire to tinker in his personal sanctum, legal blindness be damned. And
even more importantly, he desperately longed to sit in his old rocking chair
and snuggle with his Morguna — to listen to her coo and babble for as long as
he wished. (Pepper had brought Morgan along on a few of her afternoon visits to
the ward, but for Tony, those brief snatches of daddy time were never, ever
enough.)
Things were going to work out eventually. Right?
Tony had to believe that. He had to choose optimism
because he knew - had experienced - the alternative, and it had almost
destroyed him. No: those grey clouds he felt lurking at the edges of his
consciousness had to be beaten back. Every unhealthy whisper -
every temptation to despair - had to be challenged — for his
family’s sake as well as his own. It didn’t matter that with each harsh
reminder of his current predicament, he remembered whiskey burning in the back
of his throat.
That’s enough, Stark. Don’t go there.
As Pepper wound her way down the county route to their cabin, Tony
redirected his attention to the grounding kiss of the wind on his face — and
the smokey-sweet aroma of an unknown farmer’s summer barbeque, which followed
them for several miles before dissipating into the ether. It wasn’t exactly
like flying, vents open, past the skyscrapers of Manhattan or the salty beaches
of the California coast — but Tony loved it all the same. In the end, it
reminded him why, almost a year before, he’d chosen to stay alive at all.
When they finally pulled up to their destination, Tony braced
himself — then slowly opened his eyes. Here, thank fuck, the trees were
providing just enough shade to damp his ever-present headache down to a dull
roar. Here, he could probably navigate without the cane Veronica had given him.
(“Since you have residual vision, you don’t necessarily need this,” she’d said
at the time. “But I’m going to give it to you just in case.”)
Stepping out of the car, Tony waved away Pepper’s wordless offer
of assistance, squared his shoulders, strode up the steps and across the porch,
and pulled open his front door.
“Stark. Have you recovered?”
Tony blinked, nonplussed. “Blue Man Group?”
Rhodey squeezed into the doorway beside Nebula and clapped Tony’s
shoulder. “I brought her up here with me. And Nat should be coming tomorrow —
once she’s finished mopping up after that Children of Thanos cell down in
Albany.”
“What happened this time?”
“They hit a bank. Took several hostages. Guess they were a little
short on cash.”
“Shit.” Tony had absolutely sworn off Avenging, but that didn’t
mean he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt each time he missed a fight.
“Don’t worry about it, Tones. Fortunately, no one was seriously
hurt. Now come on: there’s a party platter of fresh vegetables in here with
your name on it.”
Tony made a wry face. “Right. I almost forgot: no fun allowed.”
--*--
About a half hour into the after-dinner conversation, Tony started
to lose track of what was being said, his eyelids drifting shut despite his
best efforts. It was stupidly early, he knew, but that damn tick had wrung him
out completely. Hell: lately, it was a miracle if he stayed conscious past 7
P.M. It was probably karma — cosmic payback for all those times he’d flipped
off the sandman and stayed awake for multiple days at a stretch.
“Tony?”
“Hmm?”
A hand brushed Tony’s forehead. “I think it might be time to put
you to bed.”
Tony whined a bit and hugged his kid a little closer to his chest.
Morgan smelled like baby powder and Johnson’s, and the little snuffling noises
she made as she napped were oddly soothing. He hadn’t let go of her since he
sat down, and he really didn’t want to now — even if he was slumping
sideways against the arm of the sofa. Oops.
“All right, none of that,” Pepper chided lightly, tugging on
Tony’s arm. “Rhodey, can you take Morgan?”
Next thing Tony knew, he was lying supine on his bed — and someone
was fussing with his zipper. “Not in the mood,” he slurred groggily. “Too
tired.”
“Don’t worry, honey,” Pepper replied. “Just making sure you’re
comfortable.”
“Oh.”
A few minutes later, after he’d been stripped down to his
skivvies, Tony curled up under his Egyptian cotton sheets with a moan of
pleasure. “Much better than hospital linens.”
Pepper laughed. “You’re not wrong there.”
“Sorry I cut the party short.”
“Tony, I think everyone understands.”
Tony burrowed in a little deeper, ready to drop off — until
something else occurred to him. “Can you tell Blue thank you again for the
penguin?”
That was probably the biggest surprise of the night. Apparently,
Nebula had concluded after months of watching American TV that stuffed animals,
flowers, or balloons were customary gifts for sick humans and had purchased
said penguin at a rest stop while Rhodey gassed up his Hyundai.
Pepper giggled again. “I will. That was very sweet
of her.”
“Yeah. Is it weird that I feel proud?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think you’ve taught her a lot just by
being you.” Pepper leaned over and kissed Tony on the cheek. “Now go to sleep,
okay? You need it.”
“Yes, dear,” Tony mumbled into his pillow.
In mere moments, he was dead to the world.
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