Chapter Text
Tony POV
Bruce was a kind, goldhearted, entirely good man. There was no way he anticipated my high tolerance for pain medication. There was no way what he gave me was gonna make walking, moving, breathing easy. My body felt like hell and still the drugs taking the edge of, leaving only a dull throbbing behind, was the most painfree I've been for a long time. I sat on the bed in my room, it was dark outside but New York was never really dark. Not with all the lights, the traffic, the people, New York was vibrant, New York was always alive. I wasn't. I felt dead. Talking to Steve and James was the hardest thing I ever did. The memories were not hazy at all, they sat crystal clear inside my head. Taunting me. Hurting me. Breaking me. But I could not and would not ever show that. It made me weak. I couldn't be weak if I was surrounded with assassins and mob bosses. And wasn't that fucked up? Of all things happening after almost a year of capture - the New York Mafia was not something I considered.
They seemed nice, caring. But surely they were ruthless. You don't get to lead a mob in NY without being ruthless. So I better stayed on their good side. Isn't it what you always do? Please? I bit my lip and tried to push those thoughts away. It was a voice I had memorized over time. And I did not want it here. There was a lot I didn't want. I didn't want to hurt. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to feel this dead inside. I wanted to be free. Finally free. I wanted to ask about Rhodey. About Pepper. About Happy. I wanted to be told it was gonna be okay. But I was a prisoner, I couldn't ask them or they would hold them over my head and nobody told me that, nobody ever would probably, nobody cared enough to lie to me.
It's not like they really care, I thought. I just felt sorry for myself. I was pathetic. Honestly this was embarrassing. I got up, groaned in agony, now that I didn't need to keep my reactions in check it seemed to hurt even more. The thought of a bath or shower was terrifying but I could wash up in the sink. I could handle that. Shouldn't take off all of the bandages anyway. The water running down my hands had me stiffening, the water in my face had me panting fighting for control. Trying to keep my cool. Only washing my face took me ten minutes, always just a few drops away from a panic. I dried my face stared into the mirror. I looked worn out, every bit that pathetic child I was. I prided myself in maturity. Before. Now I knew what maturity really felt like. It was not as pleasant as imagined.
Was hast du erwartet, hm? Was dachtest du, was wir mit dir machen? Du verdienst alles davon. You deserve all of it. No, I didn't. I did not. I would not let them get into my head. Not again. I would not fall back to that - whatever it was - back into that place. Obedience was NOT my style. Not my style at all. Yet it was everything I had for the better part of the last year. I watched the bright skyline surrounding me. Seeing the sparkling obnoxious Christmas decorations in the streets was comforting. I could almost pretend it was this time last year and nothing ever happened. Mum and Dad were still alive then, I was still whole and starting to shadow Dad and Obie in Stark Industries, to get the ropes of it. To ease me into it. I'd spent Christmas with mum, dad away at some business trip. I could almost see her smile when she would embrace me, telling me she is sorry dad can't be here, even though it's always like that. I can almost here her saying 'Merry Christmas, Antonio'. Almost hear me answering 'Merry Christmas, Mama.'
Almost.