Three Cheers for the Great Outdoors, Part Nine
(In case you missed it: Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five //
IX
Tony was careful. He really was. Each time his
stomach started to churn - each time that tell-tale throbbing started to build
behind his eyes - he put down his macgyvered occipital stimulator and allowed
himself a break. Casual self-destruction wasn’t his goal no matter
what FRIDAY may have thought deep in the recesses of her ones and zeroes.
But you know what was on the agenda? Honesty. So
once Tony was near to tapping out his presently limited reserves, he picked up
his cane and his little work-around and made a beeline for the house — and his
wife.
Predictably, Pepper was not enthused when she heard Tony’s news.
“If I keep my own peepers shut, I can last an hour - maybe two -
at a time without much pain,” Tony hastened to say the moment he sensed
Pepper’s resistance in the tautness of her arms. “I’ll be fine. And
I can get some real work done.”
Pepper hummed briefly in contemplation. “It’s that ‘much’ part
that bothers me, Tony. I’ve already told you we have no pressing deadlines to
worry about right now. Nothing, at least, that requires you to be in any pain
at all.”
“I know. I know. I realize that, Pep. I just — need
to have this option.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, Tony wormed out of
Pepper’s embrace and started to pace in front of the fireplace, driven by an
overwhelming compulsion to go, go, go. “I know I’m supposed to
chillax and be zen, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, honey,
I get —”
“Restless?”
“Yes!” Tony burst in relief. “See, I knew you’d get
it. You always do.”
Pepper got up, stopped Tony mid-stride, and captured his twitching
hands in her own. “I do understand where you’re coming from,
sweetheart. I know you’re used to being a man of action, and I don’t expect -
or want - you to change. But do you understand why I’m
worried?”
Tony did. “I’ve got a record,” he admitted simply, sitting back
down on the arm of the sofa.
“I know you’ve never meant to hurt me, but — yes, you do.”
“That’s why I’m here. No secrets. Not this time.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I want to be better — for you.”
Feeling the play of gentle fingers on the back of his neck, Tony
closed his eyes and, for a long while, allowed himself to be held still against
the warmth of Pepper’s breast.
Eventually, though, he couldn’t help but disrupt the cozy tableau:
“Did we just have a healthy conversation?”
“Yep.”
“Because I can do that now. I can do anything!”
“Uh huh. Now collect your daughter from her nap and wash up before
your head gets too big to fit through the bathroom door.”
And Pepper ushered Tony out of the room with one well-placed - and
tantalizing - smack.
--*--
Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men!
Tony was careful. For the next two weeks, he
strictly limited how often he used his new invention.to three or four short
sessions a day — because he meant what he’d said to Pepper with all his heart.
Tony was careful — until inspiration struck.
He could’ve - should’ve - foreseen his own downfall.
He wasn’t completely unconscious of his own tendency towards excess, especially
while wrestling with a thorny technical problem — or with the twisty oddities
of his own soul.
And yet, there was still that unhealthy kernel deep inside of Tony
that just couldn’t banish the damned devil whispering sweet rationalizations in
his ear: Just thirty more minutes. Come on, you’ve had worse headaches than
this. Just get this last part finished. Then you can throw down some pills and
sleep until breakfast.
So Tony started to push the envelope — and Pepper, of course,
started to notice.
“You’re not using the glasses more than we agreed, are you?”
Pepper asked point-blank halfway through week three as Tony picked listlessly
at some broccoli on his dinner plate. “You seem — a little off tonight.”
“No, I’m good.” You asshole. “Just a little
sick of the greenery.”
Oh God, the lie dropped from Tony’s tongue so easily.
But he wasn’t good. He was dizzy. He was nauseated. And most
concerning of all, he’d had a spontaneous nosebleed earlier that
afternoon.
Oh yes: he was officially going off the rails — and
screaming internally the entire way down. Tell her, you heel. Tell her you
need help. Call your sponsor. It’s not booze you’re craving, but it’s the same
thought pattern, right? Do something, for fuck’s sake.
But Tony didn’t do something. Instead, he sat there quietly under
Pepper's watchful gaze, paralyzed by his own shame.
That’s why, on an otherwise beautiful Saturday night, he found
himself on the bathroom floor once again.
--*--
“Oh, Tony.”
It was dark in the en suite. Tony had set the illumination at 10%
— or possibly less. But Pepper could still just barely see where her husband
had wedged himself between the toilet and the wall. And she could also see that
he was miserable — and shaking like a leaf.
“You don’t have to stay,” Tony whispered, broken.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
Pepper grabbed a tissue and crouched down beside Tony, wiping up
the trail of mucus that was leaking from his nose. At her touch, Tony flinched,
choking on a sob.
“Should we go to the hospital?”
“No. FRI ran a scan. Jus’ a bitch of an EM headache.”
“I should’ve pushed harder the other night.”
“No.” Tony grabbed Pepper’s wrist with an almost bruising force.
“Don’t do that. This is my fault, not yours.”
With a sigh, Pepper disentangled herself from Tony's grip and
squeezed his shoulder. “Let’s not worry about the blame right now, okay? Have
you taken anything for the pain?”
Tony wilted, resting his cheek on the toilet seat.
“Tony?”
“No.”
“I’ll get the injectable medication.”
“Probably too late.”
“It’ll still be better than nothing, though, right?”
Tony’s only reply was a strangled retch — and another sob. On
instinct, Pepper reached out.
“Please,” Tony panted. “Please don’t. Just go.”
“I’m not leaving you here to suffer, Tony. I don’t care what you
think you deserve.” Tony gagged again, and Pepper quickly turned his face in
the right direction, petting the back of his head as he brought up
everything he’d eaten just a few hours before. “Okay, easy,” she murmured.
“Just let it out.”
“God,” Tony gasped fifteen minutes later after the
violent paroxysms had finally ceased. “I — I can’t —” He retreated,
pushing himself back against the wall, his eyes streaming, his chest heaving.
“Breathe, Tony. You’re gonna be okay.”
Tony shook his head, his eyelids slipping shut.
“Yes, you are. You know why? Because you know what to do next.
Right?”
“Throw those fucking glasses in the lake?” Tony said, his voice
raw, his words bitter.
“Well, yes, I suppose that would work too.” Pepper shifted her
position so she could pull Tony’s still-quivering frame into her lap. “But I
was thinking of Dr. Nolan. And Jack.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Because you’re not the same man you once were. This is a setback,
not the end of the world.”
“I’m sorry, Pep.”
“Shh. I know. Just breathe.”
And Pepper sat, letting her pajamas soak in Tony’s sweat and lingering tears.
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