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Emma's phone started ringing just as she stepped out into the hall. She glanced at the screen. Anthony.
Of course it was. Shitty business men weren't enough to deal with, let's throw her ex-husband into the mix, why don't we?
He's not even supposed to be calling her. She made that pretty damn clear after the third "just because" bouquet he sent her during the annulment.
She sighed, slipping into a restroom before accepting the call and pressing the phone to her ear. He better have a real damn good reason.
"Oh, wow. You—You actually picked up," Tony's voice came from the speaker. It was rough, thick, like he hadn't slept in days. Emma wouldn't be surprised at all if that were the truth. That seemed to be a habit of his. Not sleeping, that is.
"Should I not have?" She asked, keeping her voice neutral.
"No, no, I—I'm glad you did Em—uh, Emma. I—" Tony paused again. She could hear him breathing on the other side. In.. out. Deep breathes. "I'm gonna be honest, this call was gonna start with some kind of pick up line," he muttered. "Some kind of 'why don't you come over here and join me for a shower' bullshit, because I don't think I can do.. it without.. without someone with me. Without a reason."
"Do what?"
"Shower." Tony cleared his throat. "Was that not— Was that not clear?"
"I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you correctly."
She heard rustling from Tony's end. If she had to guess, she'd say he nodded. "Right. Yeah. Well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.. whatever it is you're doing."
"Just got out of a meeting, actually. Some assholes trying to tell us how we should run our nation. The usual."
"Right."
Tony didn't sound alright. Emma didn't need telepathy to know that. She should probably make sure he was okay before she hangs up. Not because she owed it to him or anything, just because she's a decent person. Or, at least, she's working on becoming one.
She sighed, and, before she could stop herself, asked, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Tony lied.
Emma shut her eyes for a moment, debating whether to call him out or just let it go.“No,” she said eventually. Flatly. “You’re not.”
There it was—that tiny hitch in his breathing again. Like she’d pressed on a bruise he’d been pretending wasn’t there.
“…You’re really good at that,” Tony said after a moment. “Calling me on my crap.”
She exhaled through her nose. “I'm already on the phone. Talk to me, Anthony.”
"I— Okay, yeah, fine, I guess I—I haven't been able to sleep, or—or even get out of bed most days. I can barely eat. Any food I do manage to swallow gets thrown up within the hour." Tony let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "There's no evil robots to fight, no aliens trying to conquer us. I don't know what to do, Em. It's— I don't have a purpose right now. I'm just.. I'm just.. here."
“And you thought,” she prompted, carefully, “that calling your ex-wife to help you shower was the best way to change that.”
He huffed a weak laugh. “When you say it like that, it sounds unhinged.”
“It is unhinged.” Emma sighed. "But I understand."
"Do you? Because last time I checked you— never mind."
"No. I what?"
"I mean, you're not exactly the most.. y'know.. openly.. benevolent person I know."
Emma chuckled at his clear attempt not to offend her, shaking her head even though she knew he couldn't see it. "Maybe not openly. And, maybe not benevolent, per se. But I'd like to think I can be rather empathetic."
"Empathetic, right." Tony sighed. "Yeah."
Emma leaned back against the marble counter, crossing one ankle over the other. The restroom was empty, blessedly quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only witness to this particular brand of emotional malpractice.
“Tony,” she said, slower now, grounding. “Listen to me very carefully.”
A pause. He did.
“You do not need a purpose to deserve care. You do not need an alien invasion or a rogue AI to justify the fact that you are struggling.”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was smaller. Stripped of armor.
“I don’t know how to exist without being useful,” he admitted. “When I’m not fixing something, or saving something, or screwing something up so badly I have to—” He stopped, breath catching. “There’s just this… silence. And it’s so loud.”
Emma closed her eyes again. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m familiar with that particular noise.”
Tony snorted weakly. "Y'know, Em, I think this is the most honest you've ever been with me."
"I've always been honest with you, Anthony. Or, at least, as honest as I could be at the time."
Tony took in another shaky breath, then swallowed audibly. "I, uh, I didn't mean the shower thing like—" Tony cut himself off, clearly flustered. "God, that sounds worse every second. I didn't mean, like, with you. Specifcially. Well, I did. Kinda. But I just— I can't—" He huffed, and Emma heard something clatter from his end of the line. "I can't make myself do basic fucking things unless there's someone on the other side of it. Someone who needs something.. or—or expects something."
“I’m not coming over,” Emma replied gently but firmly. “We are not reopening that door. You know that.”
“I know,” he said immediately. No argument. Just tired acceptance. “I wasn’t— I swear I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know,” she repeated. "You don't need to explain yourself right now, Anthony."
He let out a shaky breath, like he’d been bracing for impact that never came.
“How about this,” Emma went on, slipping effortlessly into that calm, commanding tone she used in boardrooms and crises alike, "is there anyone I could call? I'll explain to them, you just have to let them in when they get to you, okay? Or I could just stay on the phone with you while you try to take a bath, or maybe eat something?"
Tony was quiet for a long beat. Not the evasive kind—this was him actually thinking, which somehow sounded heavier.
“…I don’t want to be a burden,” he said finally.
Emma smiled faintly, sadly. “Anthony. You are many things. A burden has never been one of them.”
“That’s debatable,” he muttered.
“It isn’t,” she said, immediate and unwavering. "Don't argue with me."
That got a breath of a laugh out of him. Barely, but it was there. "I think you've gotten bossier."
"I haven't. You just lost your tolerance to it."
Tony chuckled again, then pasued. "…Rhodey, I guess."
Emma smiled. "Good. Excellent. Thank you."
Tony fell silent again as she put him on speaker, scrolling to find Rhodey's contact.
"…He's gonna be mad," Tony muttered.
"Yes," Emma agreed serenely. "He'll make you eat something and probably not leave you alone for weeks."
She clicked on the contact, typing out a quick message. Tony needs you. He's not alright. Check on him, please. Nice and simple.
"..Did you text him?"
"Yes."
"You didn't even—"
"No," she agreed calmly. "I wasn't going to hold your hand and count down."
“..Okay.”
That alone told her how far gone he was. Tony Stark didn’t usually accept being overruled without at least a theatrical protest.
She straightened a little. "You did the right thing, reaching out. Okay?"
There was another pause from Tony, a little longer this time. “…Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly. Not defensively. Almost… hopeful. Whether he was hoping she'd say yes or no, she wasn't quite sure. She didn't know which one she'd prefer, quite honestly.
Emma paused, choosing her words carefully. “No, I’m not angry. I set boundaries because I care about us not destroying each other.”
Tony exhaled. "Yeah, of course."
"But, you need help," she added, "when you need help, I'll help you, okay? We're still friends."
His breath hitched.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For not… making me feel ridiculous.”
“Oh, Anthony, you are extremely ridiculous. Just not for this.”
That got a real laugh from him. A little wet, but certainly there.
They sat there for a while longer. Emma just listening as Tony focused on breathing. Then, through the phone, Emma heard a faint knock.
Tony sucked in a breath. “He’s here.”
“Good,” Emma said. Relief she didn’t allow into her posture finally loosened its grip. “I’m going to hang up now, then.”
"…Okay.. Goodnight, Emma.”
Emma checked her watch. “Good afternoon, Anthony.”