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Richard didn’t witness New York firsthand. He was stuck in London, safe and sound exactly where Tony wanted him to be. He pored over any information he could get from the Big Apple – BBC, CNN, Twitter, the internet; he was even tempted to attempt to hack into SHIELD databases before he remembered how inept at computers he was. Jarvis refused to help him, and after an hour the computer just began to ignore his pleas that he needed to know that Tony was okay.
Although when he sat down and thought about it, he was positive that Tony would come home to him. Perhaps a bit bruised and battered, perhaps a bit worse for wear, and perhaps in desperate need of a scotch on the rocks, but he would be home – no matter where they were. Richard looked down at the glowing arc reactor in the centre of his chest, installed by Tony after the crash in order to save his life, and he knew that Tony was alive. It sounded completely cheesy, but Richard felt that he would know if something horrible had happened to the man he loved – he would feel it somehow, as if their arc reactors connected them.
When his phone rang four hours later, he almost catapulted himself over the sofa in order to reach it in time. His fingers fumbled to unlock the call the instant he saw Tony’s name on the caller ID. Relief washed over him as he heard Tony’s voice and the fact that he would boarding Stark 1 to London as soon as New York’s airspace was cleared finally calmed his frayed nerves. His shoulders felt as if a weight had been taken off of them as he heaved out the sigh of relief he always did after he’s heard the all-clear from another dangerous mission.
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Sometimes Richard wonders how much longer he can handle this constant state of worrying before he breaks and gives up on Tony. His answer is always obvious once Tony arrives home, not the billionaire playboy philanthropist that he’s known as, but the Tony that Richard knows and loves.
Tony refuses to talk about New York – he lets the news coverage speak for itself. He lets the damage to the entire city speak for itself. He lets the funerals of the innocent lives lost speak for themselves. Richard doesn’t push, he never pushes when it comes to Tony, but he knows that New York was different than anything else they’ve ever been through.
The first time Tony wakes up screaming, sweat pouring down his face, blankets a labyrinth of Egyptian cotton at their feet, Richard tries to console him, tries to ask him what’s wrong, tries to help in any way that he possibly can. But Tony just catches his breath, gets out of bed, and leaves the room.
Richard finds him the next morning slumped over the old Challenger he bought Richard as a birthday gift, Dummy holding the engine in the air obediently as Tony twists and zooms into the exploded diagram Jarvis has brought up. Richard picks up three half-empty scotch glasses and four mugs of cold coffee as Tony continues to look at the diagram instead of acknowledging his presence.
It happens again two nights later. Instead of trying, Richard rolls over and drowns out the screaming with another pillow over his ears. If Tony refuses to let him in – he’s not going to try to break down his iron walls.
He becomes so immune to the nightmares plaguing Tony that a week later, when he wakes in the middle of the night needing a slash, he finds Tony’s side of the bed already cold. The blue glow of his reactor is the only dim light that leads him padding on cold floors throughout the house. He finds Tony in the lab working on what Richard can only imagine is another prototype for the next version of his suit.
It cannot continue on like this, Richard decides in that moment. They cannot keep living like this – he cannot keep worrying about this man who will not let him in, despite saying that he loves him.
“Are you ever going to sleep again, or are you just going to continue mainlining espresso for the rest of your life?”
Tony’s head whips around so fast Richard’s almost afraid he’s given himself whiplash. Richard finally sees for the first time how tired Tony actually is – sees the bags under his brown eyes, sees how deep the lines actually run from Tony’s eyes, sees how his shoulders sag under the weight of the world. He wants nothing more than to smooth away the lines and the bags and every imperfection he has with the pads of his thumbs. He wants to make everything better for the man he truly loves in an instant.
“You don’t understand, Richard, you weren’t there. Every time I close my eyes that’s all I can feel is myself falling through space again. Every single night, falling through space, thinking I was never going to see you again, that I wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye.”
“And how am I supposed to know this? All I know about New York is what I saw, what information I was able to garner from my limited resources, and that Stark Tower was destroyed. That’s all I know. You don’t fucking tell me anything, Tony. You think you’re saving me, but you’re not fucking saving me, Tony, you’re keeping me in the bloody dark and it’s fucking selfish.”
Richard is almost shaking with the pent up rage of the past few weeks. He wants nothing more than to grab the spanner off of the work bench and throw it at Tony’s head. He wants to storm out and forget that he fell in love with the man who saved his life.
Tony opens up his mouth to reply, but Richard cuts him off: “No, I don’t even want to hear it, Tony. So, you have nightmares. Do you not remember why you had to install his fucking thing in my chest, Tony? Do you? Do you not remember the brain damage – the weeks that went by where I was trapped in my own skull and there wasn’t a way out until it sorted itself out? I had nightmares for months. But do you remember what happened when I woke up from those, kicking and screaming, wanting to beat you within an inch of your life? Do you, Tony?”
He spits the last question with venom, begging for a fight.
“I pinned you down, didn’t let you harm me or yourself and forced you to tell me about what the nightmare was. And then I made you tea with about six sugars in it and then you would always fall asleep in my arms. You were always quiet after that for the rest of the night.”
“Do you finally see what the fuck is the matter with this picture, Tony? You can’t stay awake forever. You’re not some sort of superhero.”
Richard cannot help but crack a smirk at the last comment and Tony smiles for what feels like the first time in months.
“How about you make me that cup of tea?” Tony asks, getting up from his chair and walking over to where Richard still stands in the doorway.
Tony wraps his arms around Richard’s waist and pulls him into an embrace before mumbling into his neck, “I’m sorry.”
“Did the infamous Tony Stark just apologise? I never thought I’d see the day.”
They turn off the lights in the lab and they guide their way back to their bedroom by the light of their arc reactors.
Tony finally sleeps.