Precious Cargo, Part One: In Media Res
Summary:
Tony gets into trouble at the local Christmas market — and unfortunately, Morgan is with him.
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In Media Res
Drip. Drip. Drip.
That was the first thing that penetrated the black: droplets of
icy water plopping onto his left cheek and rolling into his ear canal. With a
low groan, Tony attempted to lift his hand to wipe the offending moisture away
— and immediately hollered himself into full consciousness.
“God fucking damn it!”
Tony blinked hard to clear the tears that sprang to his eyes unbidden.
His left shoulder was dislocated for sure, and the arm below it was, at the
moment, a useless hunk of meat. Could he pop the stupid thing back into its
socket? In a pinch — but who the blazes knew if it would do any good? His
orthopedist was already urging him to get that shoulder replaced, so it wasn’t
like he had a healthy joint there to begin with. The chances that he was well
and truly screwed therefore hovered somewhere near one.
No. Focus.
Gritting his teeth against the white-hot agony the slightest
movement engendered, Tony pushed himself into a semi-seated position, pressing
his back against the rough concrete wall behind him. For a moment, the change
in posture made his vision swim — but through sheer force of will, he managed
to keep his gorge in place. Barely.
Where the fuck are you? What just happened? Take stock.
The where was simple enough to determine from a cursory glance at
his surroundings. The room around Tony was dim and cool, its assorted contents
coated with a fine layer of cobwebs and dust. Obviously, he’d been left to huff
mold spores in some asshole’s dingy, dilapidated basement — and because he was just
that lucky, his foot - clink - was currently handcuffed to an
old radiator.
Oh: and he was bare-ass naked too. Super. He’d always
wanted to cross “fight a bad guy while my dick hangs in the breeze” off his
bucket list.
Now as for the what — well, that was a little fuzzier. Of course,
that Tony had been worked over and kidnapped was also an elementary deduction
given the aforementioned disabled limb, the steady throbbing of his temples,
and the screaming protests of his other scrapes and bruises — especially
for a guy who’d been abducted by assorted criminals on twenty-seven
other occasions. But for the life of him, he couldn’t quite recall what he was
doing before this particular snatch. All he could conjure was an
incessant hum of anxiety — an awareness that he was forgetting something absolutely
critical.
Tony took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried like hell to
banish the fog from his mind. What’s the last thing you remember? Think.
“No, Tony. You don’t need more pets.”
Okay: that was breakfast. While Tony fed Morgan from a jar of
pureed pear, he and Pepper had bickered lightly over whether or not they should
acquire some sheep. Tony, naturally, was firmly in the yes column. He was
already picturing what could be made with the wool — not to mention the
delighted look on his daughter’s face once she saw the new additions to the
steadily growing Stark menagerie. For that smile, he’d assemble a
collection rivaling the San Diego Zoo if he had to. Alas, Pep didn’t seem all
that persuaded by his thoroughly reasonable arguments.
Come on. Spool forward.
The next memories came in fragments at first. Tony worming
Morgan’s arms into a red and green jumper. A kiss on Tony’s parted lips. A hand
caressing Tony’s jaw.
And then: “Take a hundred pictures for me.”
“Easy peasy,” Tony had replied, tapping his sunglasses. “FRI is
coming with me.”
And wrapped around his torso — was the baby sling. He was taking
Morgan somewhere. Morgan was in his arms.
Morgan was in his arms.
Tony froze, the rest of the day coming back in a flash of terror,
anger, and guilt. He’d brought Morgan on a day trip to the village — and now
she was gone, taken by scum-bucket thugs for purposes unknown
while her useless dad sat shackled to a pipe, shivering, bleeding, and
whimpering in pain.
Something tight and excruciating coiled in Tony’s chest, his breathing becoming more ragged. He’d fallen down on his number one duty as a parent: protect the kid. And worse? Stripped as he was of his usual means of defense, there was no guarantee he could make it right.
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