Battlefield ｡ Tony Stark

50 - UP IN FLAMES

Roaring waves crashed against the rocky shore and cliffside down below that evening, threatening to create chaos from the howling winds from the west and the promise of a storm looming over the horizon. The view from the mansion, nested right on the hillside was something fearful and magical, something you never really got used to. Well, I had not. 

Malibu was a world away from New York, a whisper of a life that was once crammed full of sunshine and busy Los Angeles freeways and the smell of sea salt and once upon a time, I could have grown happy and content with watching the choppy waters down below, but life had taken a different turn and home was now on the East coast where the Avengers had happily decided to make a base, to make a home. 

Seconds turned to minutes, the sky turning to a darker shade of blue, clouds thickening with heaviness from rains that most likely, would not fall at all. The wind was chilly, whipping at the hair hanging around my shoulders, but my stance on the cliff that overlooked the ocean did not move. We hadn't even been back in Malibu for that long and things felt like they were on the urge to crumble and I was not ready to watch everything turn to ash. 

How do I clean up the mess, to mend the broken pieces, when I could not find them?

Pepper Potts had questioned my deepest fear; the unlikelihood that Tony was broken beyond repair. It seemed, I alone was not the only person watching Tony Stark burn out. Pepper with her gleaming eyes and heart to help had mentioned the disinterest Tony had about Stark Industries lately. Rhodey had noticed the way Tony had panicked the other day, how his body had turned against him with the clear warning sign, that everything was not alright and he had to slow down, to breathe, to heal, or he would explode. Samuel had listened to our hushed conversations and had picked up on the fact that his father was not sleeping. He had even asked about therapy for himself. 

Tony Stark had an entire army of people around him that wanted to help, wanted to love him and make sure his mental heath didn't eat him alive from the impossible events that had occurred in New York City. But there was no possible way to help him, when he was hellbent on not needing a helping hand because he thought he was stronger than that, that he was more than human. 

How did you help someone, when deep down, they didn't want to be saved?

When my mind had haunted itself for far too long, when my heart had stilled and my hands were no longer clammy with worry, I made my way inside. The mansion was oddly quiet and after a little trip downstairs to the workshop, I found no sign of Tony Stark anywhere. Apparently, without my two boys, the mansion made out of pure steel and glass was too silent. For a long while, I didn't know what to do with myself. I was utterly alone, something that did not happen too often these days.

Deciding it was a perfect chance for a bubble bath, I started for the stairs when a strangled cry sounded from behind me. The sound stilled my heart and my body jarred, waiting for a second sound to follow, to make sure the sound was not just a figment of my imagination. Another sound did soon follow, but it was more of a whispered mumble of soft words that were accompanied by a throaty terrified whimper. They were sounds I had heard more than once over the last few months. 

"Tony?"

Following the sounds of night terrors, I found an unconscious Tony Stark on the lounge, eyes squeezed shut as sleep paralysed his thoughts. His body was drenched in sweat and words were dusting his lips, pain dripping from each word. My hands flattened against his shoulders, my knees dropping to the cold floorboards. It had not been the first time I had been the person to try and wake him from the horrors he dreamed about when he did, eventually fall victim to sleep. 

"Open your eyes, Tony." I tried, not wanting to push him deeper into the nightmares. "Listen to my voice, you can hear me. Follow my voice, Tony. Open. Your. Eyes."

Tony's shoulders shuddered, pain coating his features. It tore my heart in two, imagining the kind of things that were flooding through his mind right now, the horror that were being painted on the backs of his eyelids. 

Before I could try and coax him awake some more, a heavy sound echoed through the empty mansion and my chin titled up to find one of Tony's suits looming over me. Without hesitation, a metal hand was wrapping around my wrist and dragging me away from Tony's body. A scream settled in the back of my throat as the heavy iron suit hoisted my body into the air. My feet dangled against the floorboards, my eyes staring at the glowing circle in the chest plate. A strong grip circled around my neck, squeezing slightly as air began having trouble finding my lungs. Panicked, my arms flung out and an airy plea fell from my lips. "Tony!"

Sometime during my screams and the scurry, Tony had been pulled from his dreams and his voice shouted throughout the room. "Power down." Tony held his hands up, showing his creation to obey. Suddenly, the mental around my throat gave way, my body slipping to the floorboards where I struggled to breath. Tony disarmed the suit, the thing crumbling into miniature pieces of iron by my feet. 

Tony dropped to his knees, reaching for me. "I must have called him in my sleep. That's not supposed to be happen." Tony inched closer to me but I scurried away, not wanting any human contact right now. My fingertips grazed the fleshy skin on my throat, sore and drumming with pain. There would be bruising. "I'm going to have to fix that."

"It knew you were in pain?" I asked, watching as Tony tried to catch his own breath. "How? What kind of thing needs to be linked to you like that, Tony? It thought I was...that I was going to hurt you and it attacked without question."

Tony blinked across at me. "I'm so sorry, Tilly."

Words were no use to me right now, not when my throat was still throbbing with pain, not when the very thing Tony Stark had created to help others was the very thing that had attacked me. Not when I was trying my very best to hold on so tightly to everything. Thankfully, my phone was chiming from the other room, breaking the horrible moment. 

"Miss Hardings, there is a call from Los Angeles Community Hospital coming through," J.A.R.V.I.S spoke calmly, his voice sound so raw and strange with the events that had just occurred. "Would you like me to transfer to the house speakers?" 

Confusion dotted my mind. Why would the hospital be calling my cellphone?  "Yes, thank you." 

Static sounds filled the house now, somebody's timid voice on the other line picked up. "Good evening, Miss Hardings. I am very sorry to be calling, but there's been an accident. With your son, Samuel. There was a bombing at the Chinese Theatre." 

Tony's head snapped up, dread filling his eyes. Tears were already swelling in my eyes and that familiar motherly fear shot straight up my spine. Samuel had promised to be good, to stay out of trouble. "Is he okay? Please tell me he's okay."

A moment passed, the nurse of the other side quiet. "He's been admitted into surgery, Miss Hardings. His guardian, well the man claiming to his be guardian, a Mr. Happy Hogan, is awake however, only minor injuries. It's probably best if you make your way down here--"

"Tilda? Tony?" Happy Hogan's voice erupted through the speakers. 

"Excuse me, sir!" the nurse went on.

"Can you guys hear me? There was a man, Tony. He went up in flames, it wasn't a bomb." Happy's voice was on the brim of shouting or crying, it was hard to tell. My gaze fell upon Tony, who was getting to his feet already, a hand running down his face. "Samuel's okay. I'm sure of it. He wasn't near the main explosion. I don't think so anyway, he's pretty quick on his feet."

Tony cleared his throat. "Happy, we'll be there shortly. Stay with the kid."

The call ended, my heart thudding in my chest. Tony moved towards me, slow steps in order not to shake me any further tonight. He offered me his hand, eyes trying to convey every emotion that was currently weaving through his mind. "Samuel's going to be fine. Trust me."

"I always do," I said, taking his hand and letting him help me up. "Despite my better judgement."