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“Tony?”
The glass door to Tony’s home laboratory slid silently open at your approach, allowing the entrance to gape into the darkness of the room within. This only served to make the worry gnawing at your stomach chew harder. Two weeks ago, Tony had called you acting strange. Six days ago, he’d nearly got killed racing a car in Monaco. Four days ago, he had stopped answering your phone calls entirely.
Mustering up as much courage as you could, you stepped across the threshold and walked into the lab. The entire room was dark, except, you noticed, some golden light spilling from over near one of Tony’s cars.
“Tony?” you called again.
No one answered. You wavered where you stood. Maybe he was still upstairs? But no one had answered you there either, not even JARVIS. With one last gulp and a look over your shoulder, you crept toward the lamplight.
Something flashed in the dark when you took your first step. You sucked in a breath but continued. You were in Tony’s house–what was going to hurt you here? But maybe a threat wasn’t exactly what you dreaded seeing, because when you arrived at the car door, you did, indeed, find Tony.
“Oh…” you breathed as you caught sight of him. Lacerations colored his cheeks and bruises shadowed the skin around his eyes and jaw. Clearly awake, all Tony did was blink at you as you took in his disheveled appearance.
“Hey,” he said at last. “You came.”
You didn’t wait for an invitation. Tony’s eyes followed you as you walked around the hood of the car, opened the door, and crawled into the seat next to him. “Of course I came. I–You stopped calling.”
All Tony did in response to this was nod. His eyes wandered over to a large box of notebooks, then to a screen set up across from him. Your fingertips tingled with the desire to touch him, but you squashed the impulse down. Instead, you kept your gaze riveted to his face.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
“What if I told you I didn’t know anymore?” Tony turned his head to look at you. Maybe it was just the strange lighting, but you thought you saw some strange, boxy patterns twining up his neck. “Maybe I never knew. I didn’t even know my father. How the hell could I know myself?”
“What does it matter about your father? What does he have to do with anything?”
He shrugged and looked away. Now more worried than ever, you scooted closer to him. Not even this could break whatever spell Tony was under.
“Who am I kidding? I’m not a hero. I never did anything all that great. And now…”
You couldn’t take it any longer. Your hands darted out to take the one he had resting against the seat near you. “Who says you aren’t a hero?” You gently rubbed your thumbs against his knuckles. “You’ve saved lives, Tony.”
“That’s not enough.”
“Then what is? If it’s not enough to save the lives of people you’ve never met, to completely turn your company around, to make sure Obadiah didn’t hurt anyone else, then what is?” When he did not so much as offer you a self-depreciating quip in response, your went on, “Tony, you’ve got to stop obsessing over being some great superhero. Superheroes don’t exist. You can’t compare yourself to people like that. You need to be enough for you.”
If you expected an answer to this little speech, you found yourself disappointed. Tony remained silent. Slowly, you looked back up into his face. His eyes were shut, and his head lolled against the headrest. Tony Stark was completely, one-hundred-percent asleep.
For a moment, you kept his hand in your grasp, watching his chest rise and fall. Then you let his hand fall. You reached up one of your own fingers to brush it down his cheek. He remained utterly dead to the world.
“Oh, Tony,” you sighed. “What are you not telling me?”