Bruised on the outside (and the inside) ;; James & Tony
By the time James makes it back to the tower, he’s pretty beat, and he feels like absolute shit. His legs are busted, his left is practically dead weight as he drags himself into the elevator, both making pathetic whirring noises that tell him he’s gonna be stuck in a goddamn chair for a while. Squeezing his eyes shut, James leans against the elevator wall lets FRIDAY take the elevator where it needs to go - hopefully to the workshop so he can pry these stupid things off without freaking anyone else out or making them aware of what he’s done to himself.
Keeping his eyes closed, james forces himself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. It was - a stupid fight. Before all of this he would’ve been able to handle a punk like that without even blinking an eye - now, James is sweating, his shirt stuck to his back and he’s in damn agony. His arm is still bleeding, his legs are dead, the muscles in his back are protesting to his every move after the shit he just put himself through. It’s not supposed to be like this, he’s not -
The elevator comes to a stop and James groans as he pushes himself upright again, edging forward without really paying attention. He’s already out of the elevator when he realises he’s not in the workshop - he’s on Tony’s floor. Shit. The one place he does not want to be.
His legs aren’t agreeing, though, the mechanics creaking as he makes his way over to a chair and drops, finally giving himself a break.
He’d hoped he’d never spend more time in a hospital bed, he hates the food, hates he smell, hates the gowns but... this is all worth it, in the end. It has to be, going through all of this again. Prep, more surgery, recovery and rehabilitation, PT and the weeks of work that comes with something like this.
This time though - it’s not to save his life. This time, it’s to give him his life back. And James isn’t sure he’s quite wrapped his head around that yet. He knows the risks to this - he knows the surgery could make his paralysis worse, maybe it’ll even kill him. There’s no knowing. But Tony’s done the research, he’s spent so many sleepless nights working on this, perfecting it, making sure it’s - it’s ready. He’s hired the best doctors, the best surgeons, the best nurses and medical staff, everything he could possibly find to make sure this goes as well as possible.
Maybe - maybe, they’ll get lucky. Maybe, James is going to get his legs back.
The door swings open and James looks up, expecting more nurses to do more prep for his surgery, but instead he sees a familiar face and he can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, man - everything alright?”
Leading up to the surgery, James is - nervous, to say the absolute least. This could change everything - or break everything.
Tony stays with him right to the last minute, and James is grateful. There’s a hundred places he could be right now, so many things he could be doing, but he’s - he’s here, with James.
And James hopes he’ll be here when he wakes up, too.
(He hopes he will wake up.)
The nurses knock on the door to interrupt. They’re ready for him, the doctors are ready, the spine is ready. Taking a deep breath, James nods, and everyone moves into action. Before he knows it he’s being wheeled out of the room and down the hall, towards the operating theatre.
Staring up at the ceiling as they go through the hospital, James can see it - the shot that took him down, the fall, the sound of the wind rushing around him, the feel of the suit dead and lifeless, encasing his body and completely useless. The few moments where his whole life fell apart and crashed into the ground along with him.
For years, his legs were - functioning, he could walk, thanks to the robotics. And it was better than a chair, it was better than living his life never standing on his own two feet again. But this...
James takes a deep breath, reminding himself what this is. This is a whole new life, a whole new world, a whole new opportunity for him to be everything he was, everything he spent his life being.
It has to work. It has to.
The nurses finish their prep and push him into the operating theatre - James can see Tony in the observation room. He remembers being in that exact spot once upon a time, when Tony was having his reactor removed. He remembers how nervous he was, how scared he was for his friend. He smiles up at him and waves, and he’s not sure if it helps, but - Tony waves back, that’s something at least.
“Okay James, count backwards from ten.”
James has heard that so many times now he could almost say it to himself. Still, as the mask lowers over his mouth and nose, he starts counting. “Ten... none... eight...” Things start to get blurry around him, and he can feel himself drifting off. “Seven... six...” Darkness overtakes him, and the last thought running through his head is please let me wake up.
--
Beep -- Beep -- Beep --
God, that sound never gets any less annoying. James can feel his face against the pillow - of course, he shouldn’t put pressure on his fresh wounds, on the spine that’s still so new. Moving is - different, new, his body’s reacting to something it’s not used to.
The real spark, though, the real moment where James realises it was all worth it, the risk, the anxiety, the fear of the worst instead of the best - is when he feels his toes twitch, and the smile on his face is wider than he’s felt in a long time. It - it worked, it worked, it’s only a slight movement but James can tell, he can feel it. After so much time of having so little feeling, so little to go on in his legs... it feels like everything has bene put right away.
He can feel his legs again. It’s as though everything that was missing is back. He’s not sure he believes it but he wants to - more than anything. He knows he’s got a lot of work to do but man it’s gonna be worth it.
Pushing himself up is hard, agony and he doesn’t get far, managing to roll onto a side to find Tony asleep in the chair by the bed. He looks like hell - if James had to guess this is the first time he’s slept in days, and he can’t help but wonder how long he’s been out.
His body is tired, though, the anaesthetic and pain medication’s wearing him down already, and as his eyes droop shut, James has one lingering through in his mind, one that makes it so much easier to drift off.
It’s been a week since the festival and, after many debates, heated conversations, and borderline arguments with his doctors, James was finally, finally able to start his physical therapy. Finally able to lean how to walk again with his new spine. Surprisingly enough, Tony had stayed out of it - James isn’t sure if it’s because he’s still hesitant for James to push himself, or just because he doesn’t want to get in the road of James’ persistent temper, but either way, he’s glad Tony let him argue this on his own. It’s his spine, his legs, his life. He’s taking it back on his own terms.
Standing at the festival had been one thing, but learning how to walk again is a whole other experience. It’s not as bad as it could be - if he’d gone from five years in a chair back to walking, he’s sure he’d have had more than a few falls in the process. He’s grateful he’s been walking for the past few years, it’s kept his muscles strong, he remembers the motions, how it feels to move one foot in front of the other. If anything, the weird part is just the new spine. The fact that there’s something completely new in his body but it manages to act just like his own spine had before the fall.
It’s almost as though nothing’s changed, and somehow, every step he takes in his first session is a whole other world. Part of James is astounded this is happening, another part is terrified it’s all just a dream. His physical therapist leaves him to take a break, noting the sweat rolling down his temple and making the decision that he’s earned some rest. And as much as James wants to continue, he nods, making his way over to a chair and easing down carefully, letting out a slow breath before he looks up at Tony. “You gotta be bored out if your mind, huh.” He jokes softly, but he’s glad Tony’s here. None of this would be possible without him, and he wants Tony to be there every step of the way as he gets through this.
James reacts to the damn mess of Tony’s failed arrest.
Mentioned (a lot): @ofgeniusism
Something’s wrong, he knows it right away. Something feels wrong.
James awakes with a jump, the jolt immediately something he regrets, his back straining to keep up. His legs move though - a moment of joy at the realisation of that hits him before it passes. The room is empty, eerily so, and he doesn’t like it. Tony has been here the whole time, every damn step of the way since before the surgery even happened. And whatever else is going on right now - the notes, the threats, James knows him. He knows Tony wouldn’t leave right now, not for anything.
He pushes himself up carefully - it’s barely been a week since his surgery, and while his body is adjusting to the bionic spine, he’s still tender and he can’t afford to take a step backwards right now, so his motions are careful as he eases himself over into the chair that he’ll only need for a few more weeks. “Friday?”
“Sir, you have a message from the boss.” A message? James frowns as he grabs for his phone, tapping at the screen to bring the message up.
“i’m sorry. urmw nv. tkh, rm nb qzxpvg zhp uirwz”
Typical, Tony and his codes. He knows this one though, this is easy, Tony used to use it all the time in college. “Who else got this?” FIRDAY lists off the names - people Tony trusts, people he can count on in the worst. Which doesn’t bode well.
“What happened.” He asks FRIDAY - she remains silent. “I need to know!” Instead of giving him an answer, she plays the surveillance videos, and James’ heart sinks as he watches what unfolded in the lobby. It wouldn’t have woken him even if he wanted it to - every floor is soundproofed, and right now James isn’t sure if he’s grateful for that or not. He knows he would’ve been useless, in his condition there’s nothing he could’ve done, they would’ve used him as leverage against Tony - and that makes it all worse.
If he leaves this building, he’s a goddamn target. Something they can use against Tony to make him come home. And James will not be the reason Tony goes to jail. Not now, not ever.
Rubbing his eyes, James ignores the protest in his back as he leans forward, elbows lent against his knees. He needs to keep it together, he needs - he needs to come up with a plan, a way to reach Tony.
“GPS, Friday.” The image on the screen is replaced by a map, pinpointing Tony’s location. Untraceable to anyone but her, James is sure. Tony’s too careful to let them fine him. But - what is James supposed to do? How can he find him, how can he go out there like this knowing full well if the police catch up to James, or hell, maybe they’ll tail him and he’ll lead them right to Tony. He can’t have that, not in a million years.
Wheeling around the room - it’s as close as he can get to pacing and he can’t stay still, even just sitting is killing him, James tries to figure out what to do. This is all one big goddamn mess, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do next. And god damnit, he hates feeling this damn hopeless, this stuck and useless. His goddamn best friend, the most important person in James’ world, is out there. Alone. And there’s nothing he can do.
No - no. Tony left him this message for a reason. He needs to find a way. He needs to find something. The last thing James is going to do, now or ever, is let Tony deal with anything like this alone. “Alright, Friday. We’ve got work to do.”
“Sir, the Boss wants you to focus on your recovery -“
“I know, Friday. I’m not leaving, but we gotta figure out how to get him home.”
She doesn’t argue this time, and James is glad. He’s gonna need her help on this, he’s sure of it.
Mick’s not one to recognize people, but there were big names no one could avoid. Tony Stark was one of them and he wasn’t hard to remember. The smug smile, the rich suit, the hoard of people ‘subtly’ trying to take pictures. It all caused a mob to hang around the front of his store, loud and screaming. Fuck it all.
It was a waste of whip cream and cake (possibly one of the best he’d managed to make), but if the mob wanted to catch a good picture, Mick was going to give them one. “Hey asshole!” He called out to Stark and aimed a whole vanilla fruit cake right at rich boy’s face.
