p • r • e • s • s • u • r • e

i m p a c t

"This is going to kill you, Mister Stark."

"If I wanted prophecies I'd talk to Wanda-"

"Sir, please."

Well damn. 

He's definitely not allowed to do that...

"I've analysed flight data, all the decisions you've been making lately based off of the statistics I provide you, cross checked your behavioural patterns with the Clinical Handbook of Psychological Disorders-"

Tony sighed. He couldn't help it.

JARVIS continued testily.

"-as well as the United States AirForce records detailing the behaviour of certain operatives prior to their avoidable deaths...according to my calculations, your self-destructive tendencies have an 87% probability of proving fatal before any Avengers-related activity gets the chance. Your part-time job, while being the most dangerous thing you do is simultaneously the only place I can protect you."

There was a long silence that Tony hid behind until it felt ridiculous. 

"Protect me from what, exactly." He knew the answer. 

"From you, sir." 

There was a bite at the end of that sentence. 

Maybe he deserved it. 

No, he definitely deserved it. Because that sounded a lot like empathy. Empathy was exactly what he needed the JARVIS not to have. Empathy hurt. 

It rattled the ceiling of his philosophy and threatened to bring it crashing down on his head. 

He'd always thought-and he was foolish in doing so-that it was considerate, merciful, even to hide his pain from everyone. He didn't believe it, but it was what he told himself to make it easier to live with himself. But all these years, all the suffering he'd brought upon his body and mind, had he forced the one person who knew him better than anyone to watch? Is that what he'd done? Strapped his friend down and forced him to watch as his own creator tore himself apart piece by piece, dissolved himself with drink, patched himself up like new just to start again? The ethical implications of the past ten years whirled frenetically before his eyes. Would JARVIS ever tell anyone? Or build himself a body? Would his actions bring a day with him sat before congress to answer for his mistakes, humiliated, while his faithful friend in the booth tearfully tells the traumatising tales of his woe and his own paralytic terror, forced to bear witness in abject horror to his crimes against himself and in doing so, his crimes against a brand new form of life? Did-

There was a cool breeze blowing on his forehead and something metal bumped.repeatedly against his arm, curling around his trunk like some great jungle snake, squeezing his breath into the clouds. He cracked open his eyes and DUM-E was beeping worriedly at him. His little LED monitor which usually displayed error messages now had text scrolling across the screen. 

VISUAL RECEPTORS 5 VISUAL RECEPTORS 5 VISUAL RECEPTORS 5 VISUAL RECEPTORS 5

"Oh. Oh," Tony realised. 

————————-

*eight years ago*

Rhodey was on the floor next to him, holding his hands in an attempt to ground him. 

"What are five things you can see, Tony?"

He cried out, shook and snivelled. 

"Come on, buddy. Five things, gimme five things. Gotta open your eyes first."