revivalproject | affliction

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affliction

WHO: Tony, Billy, and anyone that wants to deal with the fallout from the first bug bites
WHERE: L'hopital
WHAT: Come visit Tony as he recovers and try to figure out what's going on with this infestation!
WHEN: Backdate a bit. Shortly after the rage incident with the Young Avengers (Tommy's included? Unsure.)
WARNINGS: Everyone got a little hurt, some injuries might be gross? Depends on if anyone is here to do actual hospital stuff.

The recovery was definitely going much faster than it would have without Extremis' accelerated healing, but that didn't make Tony any more patient with it. They had worked fast, he had only been out for a few minutes, he knew that much-- he had been completely brain dead for half an hour the last time he had a very similar heart attack, and Nick Fury couldn't keep him lying around in bed for more than a day. He could at least get some sleep that time, though. The shock hadn't burst straight through his chest, leaving him feeling mummified under the dressing that only irritated the raw depression over his heart and the lightning burst that shredded across his back, impossible still to put any weight on. And he had been revived by a team of very professional EMTs, not one frenetic teenager stabbing him with a needle that left his whole chest cavity feeling bruised and swollen and impossible to breath in any other position. If he deigned to stay in bed, he was sitting up, cross-legged, bent over the D.A.T.A. sphere recovered from where he had abandoned it in the diner, excruciatingly trying to coax Extremis from focusing on the physical to let him do some programming, at least, barely mustering a small, golden nanoweb over his fingertips to create a contact point with the sphere.

More likely, though, he was draped in a sweater that made him stiff and uncomfortable, too aware of every stitch of yarn in it, but not feel quite as vulnerable as he lurked around the front desk or break room behind it to try to fill in the gaps of his still unreliable short term memory. He still didn't exactly understand why he was here, what could have possibly gone so wrong after several months of solidly risky behaviour in an alien environment on a morning that, Tony was pretty sure, he only had plans to behave himself with a cup of coffee for once. And he was still owed that cup; he definitely didn't remember enjoying it.

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Of course he's heard of things, but hadn't heard for a bit. Still, he'd decided there had to be something he could do to help the man recover. Fact was that he knew that he'd go mad in a similar situation. But there's something to be had here, and so he shows up, bag over his shoulder and Mini at his side.

"I heard someone had an adventure. Are you going to be okay?" he asks, lifting Mini-C onto the bed. The stuffed animal immediately moved to hug Tony. "I'm glad we didn't lose you."

It was awkward to return. That went without saying. He'd killed the man, however briefly. But staying away felt worse. Billy felt he owed it to Tony to do whatever he could, and own what he'd done, intentional or not.

And of course Stark wasn't in his room. It didn't take long to find him though, and Billy fixed him with a concerned sort of admonishment. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Someone had definitely been out of the loop. But then someone was also been busy trying to clean up a mess he was starting to have to admit was probably partially his responsibility. Unfortunately without a gun to do it, it just made the job a lot more tedious and fairly messier.

At least flaming knives worked wonders, but that wasn't a trick the Hunter could pull off back-to-back. And he still much preferred a flaming gun.

There'd been messages. Oh had there been messages. Tony'd find a considerable backlog of voice messages and some very badly typo'd but obvious attempts at texting while Killing Things, but the lack of response only made it worrying. He wasn't expecting to find Tony at the hospital when he'd meant to find Jon to see if maybe the Archivist knew anything. But then there he was, puttering about the front desk wearing a...sweater? Okay? What? Was it sweater season? Did that matter right now?

The Exo looked ready to say something, amber light spilling from his opening jaws before he hesitated, perhaps finally taking in Tony's current appearance with something of a wince.

"I thought I told you not to wander about..." Jon's voice sounds from the other end of the breakroom where he stands leaning against the wall, turning a mug of a by now cooled down beverage absently between his hands.

He hasn't turned on the lights in the room. But he also hasn't left the hospital since Billy teleported them here. He knows it's good that Tony can get out of his bed by now, though it still makes Jon anxious that he might miss an accident. Most parts of this building still aren't safe. And after the last few days of watching the man and waiting for something terrible to happen it better doesn't happen when Tony is almost fully recovered.

The mug is set aside, its contents untouched and Jon takes a step forward, asking in a gently, yet cautious voice "Do you need something?"

It seemed to take more time than he liked to get to the hospital, but being sore and exhausted both physically and mentally tended to do have an effect on a person. Cal had a feeling he'd gotten off better than he could have, but the hits he had suffered from Tommy weren't anything to merely shake off.

He staggered into the building, leaning against the doorway with a wince as he stopped to catch his breath. BD-1 hopped down from his shoulder, beeping as he looked to see if anyone was around.

That might have been the only hug Tony was willing to brave without a discouraging wince, not hugging the soft creature back but maybe pressing his cheek into the plasticy fur when Reeve wasn't watching too closely. "Of course," he replied, "when am I not okay?" And maybe petting his plush belly, a little bit, Tony could have been gently pushing him away. "You know, I really considered not getting up, but then I realized that would make me older than you, and I wasn't going to give you the satisfaction."

Mini-C definitely took that as a belly rub and accepted it happily. Mostly because it assured him that his hero was safe. But when pushed, the stuffed animal was quick to let go. Empathy was not beyond the magical construct.

"I'm glad," Reeve answers, and he can't hide the relief in his voice. "I was half worried I wouldn't be able to call you something ridiculous like a rapscallion, if you proved to be older than meets the eye."

He hadn't heard much of what had happened. But there had been whispers, and the idea that Tony had been hurt...

"I just wish any of my materia had come with me. I had a mastered full-heal. I could have... I could have relieved some of your pain. Now all I can hope is to at least distract you from it some."

That was about the time that Tony went, "Hmm," pressing a hand under the bandages on his chest and deciding he had some time before the water he had put on would boil because it was clearly taking approximately a whole century. He had made it to the break room, and didn't find much else to do there but Jon's tea to put on for him, which wasn't an exhausting task by any means and Tony only sank down to his knees on the floor to press his forehead against the cool cupboards because he was bored of waiting up there. With a deep breath, he managed to answer steadily, "Aren't you a little young to be offering?"

Tony's brief laugh at rapscallion made his lungs hurt, like pressing a thumb into a bruise, but he grinned regardless and let his head fall back, shoulders back to stretch his chest open for the discomfort, happy enough to be reminded that he had been rounded in that position for far too long. His voice strained in that position, he warned, "Good, if you tried to do your magic on me I'd've made the doc kick you out," before he slouched forward over his ankles again, still managing some glitter in his tired gaze for it. He didn't quite reach for whatever Reeve was offering, stopping with one hand curled in the sheets in front of his crossed legs like he just meant to tug at them and pouting, definitely not too interested in what Reeve might have for him. "It's not that bad," he insisted.

Interesting, that he would be so dismissive of it. But he supposed everyone dealt with mortality in their own ways. Who was he to judge.

"We all come to know pain in our own ways. An old friend that visits from time to time. A constant companion that ever whispers in your ear. Or just a meddling voice so easily ignored as a breeze. I hope it is easy for you. In the mean time..."

From his bag he produces one of the sketch pads he acquired on Risa.

"I know you aren't a fan of doing things the old fashioned way when it comes to design, but I thought I might show you what I was working on, the night of the blackout. Thought if nothing else it would help your ego recover, looking over far less graceful robotics designs than you would no doubt create. Not bad enough to inspire laughter. But if it's not interesting..."

Well, he could make his exit. He doesn't wish to overstay his welcome, or put a strain on his friend.

The strange poetry that Reeve responded with somehow had the effect of making Tony feel self-conscious about his guarded relationship with his own pain, like he wasn't a supportive enough partner in this experience and was left wondering at that as Reeve easily continued like he hadn't just said some wild shit. He was slow to realize and be slightly disappointed that Reeve's offer had come from his bag, making him tuck his hands away under his calves and cock his head, not sure what to expect if it wasn't a kiss. No one had brought him any thing for his own comfort...potentially ever, he thought, knowing it hadn't happened since the Agrii displaced him, but not sure how bad his memory was from the brief fling with death right now.

"Oh," Tony said first, feeling incredibly slow now, stumbling twice over what Reeve was trying to tell him in quick succession and not used to being so off balance. That had to be the brain death, that couldn't mean anything else. To make up for it, he quickly gathered D.A.T.A. to shove down to the foot of the bed, out of the way, and scooted back toward the pillows to make room for Reeve and his sketches, leaving him braced up on one hand again in the end with the other curled around his ribs and hoping it wasn't too obvious that he was sweating. "Is it for Mini?" he guessed, trying to gallop ahead before he could fall behind again.

It's a very good question, and Tony's completely right in what he theorizes the purposes of Reeve's sketches happen to be. But Reeve loses all interest in them at the sweat on Tony's brow. Yes, it is obvious. Or obvious enough. And the concern is... it's deep in that moment.

"Tony... should I..."

No, Reeve doesn't finish that thought, he doesn't know anyone for certain who has the medical skills this place provided. So, well, there is only one better offer he supposes. He reaches out, his fingers brushing briefly and lightly through Tony's hair, to make sure it isn't in his face.

"If you need it, I can go get whoever is acting as your physician. Or failing that, I could get the data point."

Even to this moment he hasn't taken one yet, too leery of something being in his head that he didn't learn for himself. And his interests had been skewing toward the communication, but for this... For Tony he'd do it.

"My plans for Mini aren't important right now. I was foolish to bring them. I thought... I suppose I thought you would be as stir-crazy tied to a bed to heal as I get. I thought a distraction would be valuable but if there is something I can do to make you more comfortable..."

This wouldn't have been as excruciating if the hospital wasn't so completely abandoned, both before and after the arrival of the He Rows. There were no patient records to dig into, only Jon's encyclopedia of giraffes that wasn't nearly as interesting as wasting all of this paper warranted, only making Tony slowly lean more of his weight on the desk as he lost the will to stand or stick around in this place at all. If he went back to the forge he could be getting something done while he wasn't sleeping-- finally, there Jon was to needle about the waste until Tony at least had something to fight about, making Tony turn a scathing look toward the door that opened only for it to quickly transform into surprise that anyone else was here, then a horrific realization. "Shit," he greeted, dropping his head into his hands with a groan. He hadn't even put his communicator back together since getting it back from the diner, but he knew there had to be plenty of jobs his brain had dumped when it went dark. He really needed Pepper for this kind of thing, she would have had an updated schedule for him ready the moment he woke up. "Your gun," he acknowledged into his hands.

"I do miss her," Cayde casually replied. He stepped further inside, head tilting as he hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Made do, but I'd still very much like her back." He paused. "...whenever you're good for it, of course."

He let that simmer a while before forging on, because he had a feeling there was something had happened and it wasn't pleasant.

"So," he began, his optics flicking about as he gave a slight gesture of a hand around their current surroundings. "What'd I miss?"

It was a little reassuring that Jon committed to being creepy even on his own, and not just for an audience's sake, but lurking in the dark reminded Tony of the hollow laugh he had heard in the library when Jon thought he was alone and made Tony shiver, pausing at the door with a hand on the frame for balance and reconsidering how he could be using all of this time he had. All of Jon's worst performances had been confined to the library so far, Tony had been drawn to this room because he finally didn't seem frustrated with Tony for once here, but in hindsight of course the stage didn't matter. Whatever terrible choices Tony had made still happened, after Jon had explicitly asked them all to stop making terrible choices, and Tony was in no state to manufacture a more flattering scene for himself.

"I was just..." he tried to defend, trying to craft a way that he wasn't ignoring another request from Jon, "walking with purpose." Not wandering. What that purpose was didn't come as quickly, the list of what Tony could possibly need long and dense, but he eventually came up with, "Making sure you had a shower, before anyone else showed up." There wasn't a lot that Jon actually needed, Tony couldn't direct him to sleep or eat to make sure he was taking care of himself, making his shadowy brooding all the more difficult to navigate without a gift to offer him.

The beeping drew Tony out to the front desk slowly to spot BD first, making him hold up his hands in confusion and insist, "Hey, take it easy, I don't have the accent down yet," not comfortable with seeing him without Cal close by. That had to be what all of the chatter was about, Tony understood that much, and he slunk out further to find the kid, eyes widening at the sight of him. "You're right, it looks bad," he apologized to BD and made his way over as quickly as he could, both arms out but unsure what to do with them or what would make it worse. "Uh, the doctor isn't in right now, is it possible we can do this some other time?" he said, already very sorry for the help he was going to have to offer.

That awry little smile Jon meets Tony's words with is a dry one and he simply shakes his head "No one comes here to see me, Tony." It's a simply truth, nothing more. He steps forward, closing enough of the distance between them to put one of his hands on Tony's upper arms and turn on the lights in the room with the other before giving the man a quick look over "So how are you feeling? Aside from being bored."

Tony does look better already, which Jon is glad for. The image of the man lying motionless on the ground is not one he wishes to encounter again. It already haunts him enough on a daily basis. That, and the gut-wrenching feeling of that little piece of warmth and light he had managed to find being torn away and shattered into pieces. It still hurts.

"I can give you something to put back together? It... Won't keep you busy for long, but..." Jon trails off just as his eyes slip away from their brief inspection. The hand on Tony's arm remains. Just the faintest reassurance that he isn't talking to a mirage.

BD-1 trailed after Tony before scurrying ahead and by Cal's feet. The padawan lifted his head when they arrived, shaking it in response.

"Just need to sit..." he said, figuring everything else he can worry about once he wasn't feeling like he'd collapse on his face. He'd say that it wasn't too bad and he'd had worse, but he din't think he made a very compelling argument at that moment.

Still, he was here. Shoving away from the door, a painful process by the look of it, he glanced at Tony again. He hadn't come to the hospital just for treatment, after all.

"...ran into Tommy," he explained between breaths. "Something...something's wrong with him."

"How many times are you going to make that joke?" Billy countered, moving to Tony's side to offer a hand up. "...Come on, I should get you back to your room. I can bring Jon his tea."

The concern was obviously frustrating to him, but Tony managed a deep breath in a few careful steps to smile and shake his head dismissively, passing his own hand through his hair where Reeve had to show that he had this under control. "Got it in one," he insisted, and patted the mattress he had cleared for Reeve to sit down already and not fret. "If you're going to tell Jon you don't think he's done his job right, at least do it in front of me so I can watch him bite your head off. It'll be the most exciting thing that's happened around here. I'm just tired. It needs time. I'm bored." And if they even had painkillers, Tony was going to have a hard time turning them down at this point, so if Reeve had something to occupy his mind from fixating any more on it, he would be incredibly grateful.

Tony turned his head enough to glare at that hand, because this was a deliberate choice he had made and he wasn't asking for help, then gathered his strength to turn his back to the cupboards instead with his legs sprawled across the break room floor in front of him, head pressed back to keep his shoulders from leaning back too heavily onto his bandages. He tucked his hands up under his sweater to warm them and keep them away from Billy, not to pull the fabric away from his chest so it wasn't as obvious how he was breathing. "If you just came here to get me in bed, it's not a good time for me," he said, so at least one more time, the joke wasn't going anywhere yet, but at leas this time it came with an inquiry, Tony raising a questioning eyebrow for the visit. It wasn't like he had gone out of his way to see Billy since he got to this planet.

Tony could guess what 'made do' meant and pushed himself upright again, pressing his shoulders back as much as possible for what confident display of strength he could manage with one arm still holding him up on the desk, looking Cayde over and not sure if he would know if the guy was damaged at all from his misadventures. At first glance, though, they seemed to have treated him better than Tony's, the question making him twirl his free hand dismissively, you know, the usual. "The kids were having some kind of domestic. You'd have to ask them, but I can't recommend getting in the middle of it, they really don't hold back," he offered with a ginger pat to his chest and the peak of bandage at his collar. "It's no excuse," he continued, the pat becoming an apology held to his heart, "I shouldn't have left you hanging, name your price and we'll settle, no need to call the judge. She's back at the forge, you can go find her if you want, I got what I needed to make the ammo."

Cayde made something of a face at that, not sure that he bought the whole excuse but Tony had his own vernacular and there was a big chunk of that story that wasn't being told. He tipped his head, optics narrowing at the bandaging and the suggestion of worse beneath the sweater.

"Excuses are one thing. Unexpected circumstances, entirely permissible so long as you get around 'em still kicking." He waved his hand. "I don't do domestic disputes but how about we set that aside for the moment, I'll pick up Ace later, and you tell me you're gonna be fine, because you look like you're going to fall over if the desk weren't there."

The smile was already welcome reassurance, and Tony argued, "I do," under his breath, as though that had to mean there were plenty of people with reasons to call on Jon if Tony could think of a few. As for how he was feeling...Tony gave a shrug and a slow smile of his own, feeling exhausted and exhausted of thinking about how he was feeling, and the one good thing about Jon seeing him in this state, and the horror-show of his ruined skin that was sure to mean the end to Tony's sexual comforts, was supposed to be that Jon already knew exactly how he was feeling and they didn't have to talk about it. Tony had closed his eyes with the fatigue of it, but leaned forward with the guide of Jon's arm to touch his temple to Jon's in thanks for at least picking up on the boredom for him, and not only that, having a solution at the ready. "I'll take it apart again if I have to," he accepted, which would have been a much better use of his time than the mounting urge to take apart his own skin to deal with this gnawing feeling the adrenaline had left under it. This close, he teased, "Seriously, though, is it the shower? This is a place of business, boss."

That Tony could do, only after another burst of anxious hesitation that had to end when Cal tried to do it himself, making Tony offer a shoulder to lean on with a careful hand patting down his back to make sure it wasn't landing anywhere already battered. He might not have been the steward of this place, but he knew of at least one available bed that had been recently vacated to help Cal to and carefully deposit him onto the sheets that hadn't been helping Tony anyway. "You're going to have to be more specific than that," he said about Tommy, although he already had his guesses where this was going.

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affliction

Visitation

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After Tommy-encounter

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