A Hero's Healer.

@rocklandjbrin

Hearing his son's voice, Tony looked up from his computer screen without moving his head, his gaze peering over the top of his glasses. Then he took the glasses off, set them aside and gave Grayson his undivided attention. "Who's Lexi? Do I know her?" he asked, hoping he didn't or he was about to look like a pretty bad dad for not remembering. "Sure, I don't see why not. No drugs, no alcohol, don't do anything I would do, and take Happy with you. You know the drill."

He saw Tony turn out of the corner of his eyes, and his own gaze naturally followed. An amused smile tugged at his lips; Sandy was just laying there without complaint as Dum-E gave her one of the most enthusiastic head rubs of her life. The robot's claws popped up briefly with Tony's instruction, head tilting before he let out a resigned whir. When he lowered his claws once more, the head rubbing had shifted more into an awkward but gentle, tapping-pinch motion.

No. Well, it had been worth a try. Gray's head rolled back and he released a groan of his own. "Daad." Okay, maybe that response was a bit immature. Probably not the best approach to an argument. It was easy to think of a few things that could go wrong. Growing up in the environment he had, he was familiar with risk. Numerous scenarios had already been gnawing at him. But he was also getting older, and it was starting to feel awkward, and draw attention, not only having a service dog but a full grown man who wasn't even his Dad, by his side at events. Not to mention, while he'd found comfort in Happy's presence over the years, that wasn't the case for everyone. He could still see the eyes of parents and kids alike widening with alarm when he told them Happy was there for protection. Worse yet, if they asked from what. Apparently Grayson was a walking security risk. He just wanted to be seen as normal at a school party. Maybe even as cool if he was lucky. Having Happy doing the chicken dance in the middle of the party, or walking around sniffing everyone's cups?

... Yeah. Grayson quirked a brow, wordlessly. Happy could get down, in his own way, but he was still a grown man. He'd stand out like a sore thumb. His Dad just wanted him to be safe. He got it. He did. Well, "If one party's that dangerous, maybe I shouldn't even go."

@rocklandjbrin

Hearing his son's voice, Tony looked up from his computer screen without moving his head, his gaze peering over the top of his glasses. Then he took the glasses off, set them aside and gave Grayson his undivided attention. "Who's Lexi? Do I know her?" he asked, hoping he didn't or he was about to look like a pretty bad dad for not remembering. "Sure, I don't see why not. No drugs, no alcohol, don't do anything I would do, and take Happy with you. You know the drill."

Sure? "Cool." Don't do anything I would do. He snorted. Wait- Happy? "To drop me off? Okay, sounds good." That was not what his Dad had meant, Gray could practically guarantee it, but he could just picture Happy hovering over everything he did at the party, and all of the other kids giving him side eye and whispering. He doubted any parents would be hovering, never mind a bodyguard.

headcanon prompts with questions based on plants   &   what they represent in flower language .  happy roleplaying !!  ♡

abatina :   is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time   (   due to becoming more educated on the topic ,   certain experiences  ,   etc .   ) ,    or that they   would   change their mind about under certain circumstances ?  

acanthus :   is your muse deceptive ,   or willing to lie or deceive to achieve certain means ?   why or why not ?   

aloe :   how does your muse handle grief ?

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?   

anemone :   how does your muse view the world ;   as a cruel   &   unforgiving place ,   a land full of wonders ,   or something in - between ?  where does that world view come from   (   what experiences ,   life lessons ,   etc .   ) ?  

angelica :   where does your muse draw inspiration in life ?   what motivates them ?

apple blossom :   how does your muse go about expressing or not expressing their sexuality ?  

bachelor’s button :   does your muse actively seek romantic companionship ,   or cherish the liberties of being single ? 

basil :   does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything ?

bay tree :   does your muse seek glory   &   accolades ,   or do they favour a simpler ,   more personal life ?  

begonia :   how cautious is your muse ?   are they prone to noticing red flags ,   or paranoid to the point of untrusting most everyone ?   why or why not ?  

belladonna :   how does your muse respond to silence ?   do they take comfort in soundlessness ,   or seek to fill the void with noise ?   

bluebell :   does your muse learn from their past ,   or are they prone to repeating the same mistakes ?  

carnation :   what is your muse’s relationship with their gender ?   how do they express or not express this relationship ?  

chamomile :   what is your muse likely to take away from a painful experience ?   are they one to be haunted by adversity ,   or to use what they’ve gone through to become stronger ?  

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

daffodil :   is your muse one to be loyal in relationships ,   or are they likely to quickly move from one bond to another ?

daisy :   did your muse ever feel as though their innocence had been lost ?   what moment in their life could be described as the end of their innocence ?  

edelweiss :   what was the bravest moment in your muse’s life ?  are they known to be courageous from then on ?  

fern :   does your muse believe in magic or cosmic forces ,   or are they more likely to think their life is ultimately a matter of their own control ?  

forget - me - not :   has your muse ever forgotten something that is or was important to them ?   are they afraid of forgetting things like that ?  

gardenia :   is your muse one to confess romantic feelings early on ,   or to conceal them for long periods of time ?  

gladiolus :   describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget .

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ?  why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?  

heliotrope :   does your muse believe in soulmates ?

hibiscus :   how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ?   as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,   or things only bound to wither   &   disappear ?  

holly :   how strong is your muse’s sense of intuition ?  are they aware of it ?   do they ever fear that it is only paranoia ?  

hollyhock :   how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ?  what’s something they strive for in life ?  

hyacinth :   is your muse athletic ?   does it come naturally to them ,   or have they had to work for their physique and/or skill ?  

hydrangea :   how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ?  are they prone to being misunderstood ?

iris :   if your muse could convey one last message to someone they have lost or left behind ,   what would it be ?  

ivy :   what are your muse’s views on marriage ?   do they believe it is something strictly for love ,   or an institution rooted in business   &   social benefits ?   do they desire or have they desired to be married ?

lavender :   how easy is it to gain your muse’s trust ?  once their trust is broken ,   how might one go about mending it ?  

lilac :   what was your muse’s childhood like ?   how has their upbringing affected them as they’ve aged ? 

lily :   how does your muse view their mother ?  

lotus :   has your muse ever felt as though they’ve been reborn ?  have they ever desired the feeling of a fresh start ,   or a better understanding of themself and/or the world around them ?  

magnolia :   describe your muse’s relationship with nature   &   the natural world .  

marigold :   is your muse prone to jealousy ?  how might they handle envious feelings ?  

mint :   does your muse view themself as virtuous   &   moral ?  what do these words mean to them ?

nasturtium :   describe your muse’s relationship with their birthplace ,   or homeland .  

oak :   who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?  

pansy :   does your muse often reflect on their own actions ?   do they ever think a lot about the past ,   and what they could have done differently ?

parsley :   describe a holiday your muse enjoys ,   and why they enjoy it .

peony :   what would a   ‘  happy life  ’   look like in your muse’s eyes ?

poppy :   what comforts your muse ?

rhododendron :   is your muse receptive to warnings   &   advice given by others ?

rose :   how much does your muse value other people ?   do they wish to have many friends ,   lovers ,   and/or associates ?   are they an easy person to love ?

sage :   what is your muse’s legacy ?   what do they want to be remembered for   &   what might they actually be remembered for ?  

salvia :   is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them ?  how do they express that possessiveness ,   or lack thereof ? 

snapdragon :   is your muse merciful ?  why or why not ?

southernwood :   how seriously does your muse take themself ?   do they prefer a solemn   &   intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes   &   banter ?  

sunflower :   what brings your muse the most joy in life ?  

tulip :   how does your muse view people in general ?  

violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

willow :   how does your muse handle sadness   &   depression ?

I want to make this known; it’s OKAY to flirt with my muse, it’s okay to say flirty things to them, yes, they may not react to it, they may not respond to it positively, but know as a mun I’m 100% OKAY with it. Especially if my muse is clearly attractive appearance wise, go a head, flirt with them, if my muse is your muse’s type, it’s okay to flirt, we don’t have to be shipping, we don’t ever have to ship to have you flirt with my muse; I WON’T think you’re pushing a ship on me either. But I just feel that some people are scared to have their muse be flirty to another because we a muns might take it the wrong way.

Watching the other kick off his sandals, Gray took that as a yes, and did the same, wriggling his toes in the soft sand. A tiny little crab ran across the surface.

But he didn't have to, for the time being. What he chose to focus on was his feet paddling against the hot sand. As he expected, it didn't take long for Finnick to catch up. Another brush of the shoulders, and the older boy overtook him with ease.

"Nice to meet you." Gray bobbed his head, looking to his surfboard, "I like it." He agreed with a shrug, warm brown eyes flickering back to the Finnick as he spoke of his Dad. "He knows his stuff, yeah. He's been teaching me, here and there." He tried not to sound like he was bragging. He was just a little proud of the skills he'd picked up.

Watching the other kick off his sandals, Gray took that as a yes, and did the same, wriggling his toes in the soft sand. A tiny little crab ran across the surface.

The next morning, as he rose from bed and padded downstairs, Grayson found the kitchen vacant. As was the bathroom. And the hallway. Following his gut, he made up a plate of seaweed toast and a dish of salmon cream cheese, alongside some orange jam. Putting the kettle on, the boy opened the door to the garage and sure enough, found his Dad tinkering with a motor his customer Theo had brought in. A mug of coffee sat beside him on the floor.

He'd been even more entrenched in his work than usual, lately, and sleeping even less. "Hey Dad, breakfast."

Tony jolted, and swore under his breath.

"-I'm just- what? Oh, hey Kid." His shoulders dropped in renewed ease, catching his breath. Gray managed to wrangle him to the table, and the pair nibbled at their meal. Once all that was left of the toast was crumbs, Tony had to get back to work, and Gray needed to take his mind off of everything, so he made his way down to the beach, surfboard in hand.

He gave Theo a wave of greeting. The man was adorned in his peacekeeper uniform, as he guarded the beach. A couple of crabbers stood on the shore, and he gave them a wave too. But there was someone else, as well. Another boy, a little older.

Grayson approached, curiously. "Hi, I'm Grayson." -graytitaniumalloy

Finnick watched the exchange between the boy and the Peacekeeper, noting the casual ease of the wave. In a district where the Reaping felt like a heavy fog, this kid, Grayson, seemed to have a different sort of gravity—one tied to the people who held the guns and the people who fixed the machines. Finnick didn't feel the need to hide his observation. He stood with his weight on one leg, looking every bit the prodigy the trainers were already whispering about, his eyes sharp and calculating under a messy mop of sea-salted hair.

"Nice to meet you." Gray bobbed his head, looking to his surfboard, "I like it." He agreed with a shrug, warm brown eyes flickering back to the Finnick as he spoke of his Dad. "He knows his stuff, yeah. He's been teaching me, here and there." He tried not to sound like he was bragging. He was just a little proud of the skills he'd picked up.

What? What did he mean? A part of him knew. Grayson's feet slammed the escape hatch open, hopping out from the back compartment of the suit.

"Yinsen, no! We'll find another way. We're getting out of here together! Don't make me chase after you." The boy threatened, voice desperate and terrified. The old doctor paused, warmth and sadness in his eyes.

"Alright... We'll find another way."

... That kept replaying in his mind. What he could have done. Could have tried to do. Because he should've done something. It had just happened so fast, and he'd been so scared, and climbing into the back of the suit was a whole process in itself, it wasn't as easy as just kicking the escape hatch open... he was pretty sure. He could've delayed everything and maybe things would've turned out even worse, but... Maybe he could've stopped him. Maybe they could've protected him, too. Gray wasn't sure how, because the scenes played over and over in his mind and they'd hardly escaped themselves, but... He couldn't let go of the what ifs? Of the guilt.

And now they were aimlessly roaming the desert. His mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper. His muscles ached. His skin was scratched up and burned. He dragged his feet with every step and had fallen to his knees a couple times as they trudged up the inclines. The sunlight taunted them, glimmering on the sand in the distance and giving the appearance of water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hot. Back home if he got too hot, he'd take refuge under a beach umbrella, or go inside where there was A/C and cool floors. There was no refuge from this. They had to keep going. The people who protected them didn't do so just for them to give up and collapse in the sand.

Even if he was so... so tired. And his chest ached with every breath. And it was like there was a humming sound in his brain... wait.

It was getting louder. Was he going to pass out or something? The exhausted boy peered up at his Dad, as he seemed to notice the sound too. Suddenly they were running down the sand, waving frantically. His Dad was shouting beside him, Grayson yelled out with a hoarse voice.

He'd learned with kids, either through his own utterly gaslit childhood or in dealing with his own son, that lying to children had major repercussions. One might think it was okay, to spare them fear, sadness, or panic in the moment, but children remembered. They trusted. And if they found out later that they were lied to, bridges could be burned and abilities to discern truth from lies could be irrevocably damaged. Children were resilient, but they also looked to their elders for guidance. Those elders had a responsibility, he felt, to tell them the truth, as much as was appropriate and that they could understand. In doing that, though... Raiden had badly scared Grayson. He felt like a total jerk for doing that.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." Raiden mumbled to Grayson and then looking at Tony. So much for handling the situation well. "This is why I'm hired to fight and do search and rescue. I suck as a trauma counselor." He was trying to add some levity, but it was also the truth. "It really is gonna be okay, though..." Could he promise that? He felt like he probably could. It had to be better than his own torture and forced surgeries, right? At least these people cared about Tony and his son's welfare. If Raiden had died during his experiments, a box on a datasheet would've been checked, a body dumped in an incinerator, and that would've been the end of it. It has to be better than that... right? Raiden had to admit his definition of "okay" might be a bit different than everybody else's, though...

When Grayson mentioned a good doctor named Yinsen and appeared to be somewhat grateful for whatever life-saving measures he'd done to keep him and Tony alive, it was Raiden's turn to furrow his brow. "Yinsen?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tony said, answering so Gray wouldn't have to, but then... the emotion hit and his throat cramped. "Maybe... not... right now..." he hinted. "I can tell you later." Tony lifted the hand that was around Gray's shoulder to briefly smooth the boy's hair before returning to its side hug.

Raiden didn't push. "Okay. No prob."

When Grayson said he was a good dad, Tony really had to fight not to cry. Am I, though? A good dad would never have gotten you into this mess. He didn't feel like a very good dad right now. Nevertheless, he smiled and glanced at him. "Thanks, sport," he said.

Grayson asked about Raiden's son next, and Raiden could not have held back the big smile that came to his face if he'd tried. "Little John? He's nine. Great kid. Really smart. Smarter than I was at his age." That was a subjective assessment, but weren't all fathers entitled to gloat about their kids a little? "Except he hates fractions in school," Raiden said with a chuckle. If there was one subject John hated more in school, it was math, and fractions in particular always seemed to get on his nerves. For all his complaining, though, Raiden didn't see that John was actually struggling in math class, if the tests with As stuck to the refrigerator at home were any indication.

"Oh, nobody likes fractions. They're such jerks. They're everywhere, and you need 'em, but they just make everything so complicated," Tony said, trying to add his own levity to the situation. A much-needed distraction. "What about you, you like fractions?" he asked Grayson.

As the subject changed to Raiden's current equipment situation, he realized how strange it must have sounded to everyone. "Well I'm free, but the equipment's not," he said with a chuckle, mixing two different definitions of the word "free." He thought for a second about how best to help them understand. "Imagine someone loses a hand. They have prosthetics, right? So the person can still have some function restored? Well now imagine someone really needs that hand or they can't function in daily life, they're really disabled without it. So it's not an option that they just... don't wear one. But those hands are super expensive, and the person can't afford one. The company that makes 'em isn't just gonna give 'em out for free, or they'd go bankrupt. So they tell the person, we'll let you use one, but you gotta do some stuff for us in return. And you gotta let us take some data here and there to assess the function so we can improve it in the future. And you have to always let us know where you're going to be so we know where our property is."

Was he making sense? He hoped so. "So you see, it's not really that bad. They're actually being nice by letting the person use this equipment they really need to go about their daily lives. It's just that there are obligations that come along with it. Now just imagine it's not only a hand... it's a whole body the person needs. That's where I'm at right now. A few bodies, actually. I have three."

"Three? You have... three different bodies," Tony stated, blinking.

"Uh-huh," Raiden said. "Well, I have three that I rent from the government, they're not mine."

"Right. Huh. Why three?" Tony asked.

"I have a civilian one that I wear when I'm not working, when I go home to visit my family. It doesn't have any weapons capabilities or extensive armor, it has biopolymer outer layers that feel like real flesh," Raiden explained.

"Shut the front door, that's awesome. Go on," Tony said, distracted by the tech talk.

"Then I have a regular on-duty body that's combat-ready but doesn't have all the bells and whistles the full combat body has. It's less bulky too, so I can disguise myself in civilian clothing if I need to." He patted his metal torso. "This is the full combat body, obviously. There's no way I'm fitting this in jeans or a suit, or blending into a crowd in public with it, heh."

"Are you taking notes?" Tony asked Grayson. He was joking, of course. He looked back at Raiden. "Okay, when I hire you, we need to make sure you have all these things still. No downgrades, only upgrades."

When... he hires me? Was that really going to happen? Raiden didn't want to get too happy too prematurely. He noticed Grayson nodding off a bit and had hoped the boy could catch some sleep, but it seemed like that was easier said than done for the kid. When he asked about food, Raiden nodded. "You bet."

A nod met the apology, silently acknowledging. He wasn't angry with Raiden for what he said, he just- his heart pounded, and his frantic mind searched for something else to focus on. "... you don't suck." Came the murmur, not wanting Raiden to feel sad, too. "I just-" He'd been in survival mode, so entrenched in the day to day for so long, he was having a hard time coming up with a light topic, never mind one that didn't feel ridiculous, short lived, and near nonsensical, like what's your favorite cheese?

It really is going to be okay, though. He wanted the words to sink in. Maybe they would once they were home. He just nodded, absently.

Yinsen. He was grateful his Dad replied for him, because his own throat was tightening, too, lips pressing together tightly. The slightest nod as he nuzzled his face into Tony's shoulder. He felt gentle fingers in his hair, eyes closing.

"'course." He said softly, with his Dad's thanks. He knew he probably blamed himself for what had happened, but it wasn't as though it had been Tony's idea for him to join. Gray had snuck aboard the plane. Sure, it had been in an effort to spend more time with his Dad, and he hadn't known what they'd be in for, but it had been his choice. And Tony had done his best to protect him.

Little John seemed a good topic. Lighter hopefully, with a broad range of potential sub-topics. Nine? "Oh, we're the-the same age-" No wait, he'd had his birthday a little over a week before everything. "Almost." He hated fractions. Interesting. The boy raised his brows, eyes watching the underside of his Dad's face from where he was burrowed in, as Tony agreed with an impassioned zeal. As the question was turned to him, he contemplated. "Well, I don't have a-a vendetta against them, unlike some people." He yawned. His mind wandered back to John. He had a friend named John. He missed him. "Does he live in California?"

He didn't like the sound of this organization that had essentially loaned Raiden his body. Essentially his life. It felt too close to home. Raiden was going out of his way to talk about how nice the organization was being, but it didn't feel nice to him. It felt like, "So you do what they want, and you get to live." Did that not ring familiar? "They're not being nice, they should let you just have one, because you're a person."

His expression did shift a little from indignation to interest as Raiden spoke of biopolymer skin. That was pretty cool. "Is it made from plastic?"

As he spoke of his full combat suit, Grayson couldn't help but agree, jeans might be tricky. Was he taking notes? It was a joke, but regardless the boy distractedly answered, "No. Maybe neo-neoprene, and spandex? Like my scuba suit. It's pretty stretchy." Would he still be able to swim, with the reactor? To surf? The boy picked at his thumbnail, already a little sore with how dry and short it was.

There'd be food. His stomach still felt kind of unsettled, but maybe food would help. He hoped it would be tolerable food.

Warm brown eyes flickered up to her antennae. They emitted a gentle glow, like a night light. It was comforting. It sort of reminded him of the arc reactors. For several years, the devices had sat in he and his Dad's chests. They'd been a source of pain and stress, but they'd protected them. The turquoise glow had become familiar. There'd been times when he'd traversed in the dark, and the light in his Dad's chest had brought them together.

They'd gotten through so much... He had to believe his Dad could get through this, too.

A gentle squeeze of his hand was returned instinctually. It's going to be okay. Grayson felt his eyes prickle. He nodded. He didn't notice the shift in his breathing until she asked if he felt better. And that was just the thing; he wasn't as conscious of it. There was still worry there, still concern, but he felt steadier. The trembling in his limbs had eased, akin to when Sandy gave him deep pressure therapy. His mind felt more focused, less scattered and overwhelmed.

Mantis beamed with relief. She found joy in helping others, even if it was only a little. She nodded in order to let him know that she was alright, that there was nothing to worry about.

Sometimes the emotions of others could be a bit overwhelming, but Mantis wouldn't be discouraged; she wanted to help. She wanted to soothe. She wanted to comfort.

The shift in his breathing was subtle, but it was present. All Mantis had done was hand the control of his emotions back to him.

"You're very welcome, Grayson," she said with a soft smile. Her head tilted. "I'm not sure – it depends. It varies from person to person. It could be hours, or a couple of days. But once all is well, you can ask me to 'lift' the effect." The use of once, not if, was important to reassure him that things would be okay.

A part of Mantis felt different after dying in the Snap and being resurrected in the Blip, but she brushed it off as something that happened to everyone who had been turned to dust.

He appreciated her optimism. His Dad had good doctors helping him out. They had far more resources than Yinsen had had back in the cave, and they'd both survived that. Gray felt a bittersweet pang in his chest.

Yinsen. I hope you're able to see what he's done with the chance you gave us... How hard he's tried. If there's anything you can do, wherever you are, please help him get through this.

Brown eyes flickered to Mantis as her voice pulled him from his thoughts. Air might be a good idea, as much as she was right about him wanting to stay close. There wasn't likely to be any answers for a while, and he could stay within easy reach if he didn't wander far.

"Sure... Okay." Grayson rose, moving to pop his emptied hot chocolate cup into a nearby garbage can, before stepping over towards Pepper and Rhodey as they chatted. "Mantis and I are going to get some air for a couple minutes. I'll stay close. My phone's on."

A part of Grayson can't help but think back to when he'd picked his father up in Siberia. Tony too, had gone after the wrong person, in a sense. But the two situations had so many juxtaposing aspects outside of the pain of loss that he couldn't help meet his Dad with empathy, and Walker with wariness. Bucky was still alive, for one.

The young man could recognize that John had helped people since, though. And people even included Gray and his own family, his friends. They'd been in New York when the Void had taken over. Grayson had been slammed back to some of his most painful memories. Years of healing, picked back like a scab. John had helped, with that whole situation. People were complicated, as were emotions.

His shoulders droop ever so slightly and he backs away. Of course he can't expect one good bit of heroics to get people to trust him. He just has to deal with that reality, even if he always has had a hard time accepting it. At least the kid had tacked on a 'please' at the end of the sentence, which is more than most people have done when speaking to him. So John supposes he should just take the win. At least he's not thrown out a window or anything.

"It'll act as a cap for the patella mechanics, so if you could slot it in between these two brackets, and line up the holes, I'll come in with the screws to secure it." The young man pointed to the segment on the leg as he spoke, and got to searching a tin for the correct size screws.

As silence filled the room, outside of the the rustle of metal on metal, Grayson searched for topics of conversation. Given everything in the news, he imagined Walker was likely under a fair deal of stress. Even if Gray held his own reservations, he'd grown up with the press in his face, despite his Dad's efforts to shield him from them; he knew what it was like to have difficult moments brought up again and again.

What? What did he mean? A part of him knew. Grayson's feet slammed the escape hatch open, hopping out from the back compartment of the suit.

"Yinsen, no! We'll find another way. We're getting out of here together! Don't make me chase after you." The boy threatened, voice desperate and terrified. The old doctor paused, warmth and sadness in his eyes.

"Alright... We'll find another way."

... That kept replaying in his mind. What he could have done. Could have tried to do. Because he should've done something. It had just happened so fast, and he'd been so scared, and climbing into the back of the suit was a whole process in itself, it wasn't as easy as just kicking the escape hatch open... he was pretty sure. He could've delayed everything and maybe things would've turned out even worse, but... Maybe he could've stopped him. Maybe they could've protected him, too. Gray wasn't sure how, because the scenes played over and over in his mind and they'd hardly escaped themselves, but... He couldn't let go of the what ifs? Of the guilt.

And now they were aimlessly roaming the desert. His mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper. His muscles ached. His skin was scratched up and burned. He dragged his feet with every step and had fallen to his knees a couple times as they trudged up the inclines. The sunlight taunted them, glimmering on the sand in the distance and giving the appearance of water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hot. Back home if he got too hot, he'd take refuge under a beach umbrella, or go inside where there was A/C and cool floors. There was no refuge from this. They had to keep going. The people who protected them didn't do so just for them to give up and collapse in the sand.

Even if he was so... so tired. And his chest ached with every breath. And it was like there was a humming sound in his brain... wait.

It was getting louder. Was he going to pass out or something? The exhausted boy peered up at his Dad, as he seemed to notice the sound too. Suddenly they were running down the sand, waving frantically. His Dad was shouting beside him, Grayson yelled out with a hoarse voice.

It damn near broke Raiden's mechanical heart in two to hear Grayson say he didn't want any more surgery. He understood that feeling so well. After his torture and the loss of almost his entire body, Raiden became so touch-averse and defensive. He panicked anytime anyone tried to touch him, let alone came at him with medical equipment. But the truth was that medical science ultimately saved his life. Surgery and prosthetics and various chemical concoctions had improved his quality of life, increased his capabilities, and kept him going for this many years after was would have killed most men. Surgery wasn't wrong, only the intentions of the doctors involved. With the right ones, miracles could happen.

"I understand how you feel," Raiden said with all the sincerity of someone who had been in that very headspace before. "But there's good surgery too. And good doctors who want to help you. And if there's a way to make you feel better and improve your health and quality of life, then they wanna give you that chance. You just gotta be a little brave. Okay? I know how hard that can be, but... no one here or at the base means you any harm. It's not like it was with... whoever did that to you," he said, nodding downward a bit. "And guess what? Your dad's not gonna let anybody do anything bad to you at the base. You know how I know? 'Cause he's got that dad look in his eye," Raiden said, smiling. "I know that look 'cause I get it with my son too. He's gonna make sure you get the help you need and that everything goes just fine. Alright?"

Tony didn't realize how much he was listening to Raiden himself until he felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, so as not to upset Grayson. "Okay, I need this guy's digits right now because I wanna hire him for... whatever, I don't care, he's-... They're not paying him enough for what he's doing right now..." he said to Rhodey. Maybe it was because Raiden had been through all this and then some, but Tony found his words hitting very close to home. He was, after all, scared to go back into surgery himself and dealing with his own unwanted reactor right now, all while trying to hold it all together for his son's sake.

Raiden was a little taken aback by Tony's comment and by Grayson saying he was nice and didn't need to leave. Nice? Now there was a word pretty much never used to describe Raiden. What was nice was the fact that they wanted him to stay around for a while. Unfortunately, it wasn't his choice. "Well... the mission was to help find you both. Now others'll take over from here. I've gotta report back."

Maybe they didn't understand why that was... "I don't own any of this," he explained, gesturing to his body. "See these?" He pointed all around to various bar codes and serial numbers, etched into every piece of his body, even his visor and jaw. "Some parts are owned by Maverick. That's the private military company I work for. And some are the property of the U.S. government. For each mission I'm deployed for, I'm kindof... loaned all these parts to work with. When the mission's over, I've gotta return it all, or at least report back so they know where all their equipment is. I can't just... do whatever I want, whenever I want, or else that could be considered stealing. I'd... It'd be nice to stay, but... I'm not free to, really."

"Okay, but military equipment can be bought, right?" Tony asked. "So someone could theoretically buy all of that for you? And then you can do what you want with it?"

Raiden chuckled. "Do you have any idea how expensive this technology is? Millions. That's not the kind of cash someone casually slips into a birthday card. If I had that kinda money I would've bought a body or two for myself by now."

"Well, I don't have my checkbook on me at the moment, but-..." He saw Rhodey's expression. "What? No really, I'm gonna look into this, because this is... I... I need to do something about this."

"No you don't," Raiden said, shaking his head, perplexed as to why Tony cared so much. "I'm not asking you to."

"I know, but... it's a thing now. You got somewhere else to be? You got another job lined up after this one?" he asked.

"No. Didn't know how long this one was gonna take, so I couldn't plan the next one yet," Raiden said.

"Okay. Good. I wanna hire you next," Tony said, pointing emphatically.

"What? Why?" Raiden said, his bewilderment growing minute by minute. "What for?"

"Peace of mind. Open-ended project. Details to be determined. Also, if I can't buy all of that," he gestured to Raiden's body, "I'm gonna make it myself," Tony said with a level of seriousness and strength in his tone that bordered on defiance.

Raiden... just blinked. What else could he say or do? He was pretty sure this was the trauma talking, and that Tony would forget about all of this once he was in a much better mindset, and so he kept his thoughts to himself and merely sipped on a water bottle himself.

He could understand. Gray knew that much, based on what the man had told them. But, good surgery? Their surgery had been to save their lives... Did he mean less painful? Or surgery that could get them back, close to how they were before, somehow? When Raiden continued on to say good doctors, he couldn't help but furrow his brows, a defensive, distressed pang in his chest. It took him a moment to realize- He wouldn't know. He didn't understand the context. His lips parted to speak, but the other continued, so he waited.

If there was a way to make him feel better... Fragmented screams- not all his own, the cold cave floor, hands hauling him up, echoes of pain. His heart was racing and his breath felt stilted in his chest. His body started visibly trembling in his seat, out of his control. He didn't want to go through that, again. If it was anything like that... even half as painful, he didn't-he couldn't.

You just gotta be a little brave. Okay?

It was phrased as a question, but it didn't feel like he was being given a choice. He knew Raiden meant well... But he'd already been brave. He'd been brave every day, for three months straight. He didn't want to be brave, anymore. Not for now. He was exhausted. He wanted to go home, and he wanted to curl up in his bed, and he wanted to sleep. Grayson felt a pair of tears well in his eyes, and he just shrugged, and found himself whispering, "... maybe."

But then Raiden was referring to his reactor, and whoever did that to him, and Grayson couldn't not speak up, this time. "Yinsen, he-he-" Was. The word hurt. His voice cracked, tears slipping down his cheeks, "He was a good doctor. He just-he did what it took to keep us alive. It wasn't his fault."

Raiden brought up a comforting point, though; He had his Dad. He'd gotten them out of the cave. He'd protected him as best he could, while they'd endured it. He was going to do his best to make sure everything went okay. This time, as the tears fell, they were bittersweet, holding onto hope and comfort. "... okay." He agreed, before adding, "He's a good dad." And leaning in against Tony's arm, affectionately. "... how old is your son?" Were they around the same age?

He listened as his Dad spoke of hiring Raiden. He certainly wouldn't be opposed. When the other spoke of reporting back, and delved into the details of his body's ownership, Grayson found himself frowning. So... "You spend your life rescuing others, but aren't even free, yourself?" That was messed up. He was glad to hear his Dad was on the same page. Millions. That could work. Maybe that was a way they could help repay him. "... yay. So you don't have to rush off." Gray concluded softly, once the pair had finished with their banter.

the beauty of life

What? What did he mean? A part of him knew. Grayson's feet slammed the escape hatch open, hopping out from the back compartment of the suit.

"Yinsen, no! We'll find another way. We're getting out of here together! Don't make me chase after you." The boy threatened, voice desperate and terrified. The old doctor paused, warmth and sadness in his eyes.

"Alright... We'll find another way."

... That kept replaying in his mind. What he could have done. Could have tried to do. Because he should've done something. It had just happened so fast, and he'd been so scared, and climbing into the back of the suit was a whole process in itself, it wasn't as easy as just kicking the escape hatch open... he was pretty sure. He could've delayed everything and maybe things would've turned out even worse, but... Maybe he could've stopped him. Maybe they could've protected him, too. Gray wasn't sure how, because the scenes played over and over in his mind and they'd hardly escaped themselves, but... He couldn't let go of the what ifs? Of the guilt.

And now they were aimlessly roaming the desert. His mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper. His muscles ached. His skin was scratched up and burned. He dragged his feet with every step and had fallen to his knees a couple times as they trudged up the inclines. The sunlight taunted them, glimmering on the sand in the distance and giving the appearance of water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hot. Back home if he got too hot, he'd take refuge under a beach umbrella, or go inside where there was A/C and cool floors. There was no refuge from this. They had to keep going. The people who protected them didn't do so just for them to give up and collapse in the sand.

Even if he was so... so tired. And his chest ached with every breath. And it was like there was a humming sound in his brain... wait.

It was getting louder. Was he going to pass out or something? The exhausted boy peered up at his Dad, as he seemed to notice the sound too. Suddenly they were running down the sand, waving frantically. His Dad was shouting beside him, Grayson yelled out with a hoarse voice.

Mission or no, paycheck or not, there were two kinds of jobs Raiden always became emotionally invested in: bodyguard work and search-and-rescue. Because people were depending on him to either keep them safe, or to come save them from something terrible. He knew that fear himself, that feeling of not being safe, or wondering how much worse the pain was going to get, and if he would ever be free of it... "I search 'til I find who I'm lookin' for. No matter what," he said with determination. Dead or alive, he thought, but of course he wasn't about to vocalize that bit to the two traumatized people sitting before him.

The last thing Raiden wanted was for this little kid to take the weight of the world onto his shoulders. He'd been through enough, more than any kid should ever have to. It wasn't fair that he should be made to worry about grown-up things or Raiden's own troubles or anything else other than hugging his dad and feeling safe. So he did whatever he could to divert the boy's attention, despite Stark seemingly wanting to know more about him. It was a thin line he was walking, between keeping Tony engaged and talking, and keepig Grayson calm.

"Yeah, help. Back at the base. They're gonna get you checked out, make sure you're okay, and give you whatever medical treatment you might need. They're gonna take good care of you, I promise. I'll be outta your hair by then, too," Raiden said.

"Well now, hang on, you're not... just gonna leave, are you?" Tony asked.

"Probably," Raiden said with a shrug. "I'm a soldier, not a trauma counselor. No one should let me do that. I'm terrible at it. I'd probably make you guys worse," he said, thinking about just how screwed up in the head he was and how he shouldn't go infecting other people with his brand of mental instability.

"You're doin' a pretty good job so far..." Tony mumbled. Were all guys like Raiden treated with the same emotional sterility? Not that he'd met any other guys like Raiden. It made him want to do some digging on Raiden's past, on any programs or government entities that had a hand in making him what he was, in his maintenance and whatnot. He was sure Raiden fell under some protected class of people, either veterans, or disabled folks, or... something. Some group that most definitely shouldn't be treated like a rent-a-cop or a human-shaped, loaned-out metal detector. Yeah, he was gonna look into this later.

So they were going back to base. The boy gave a little nod, as Raiden said the people there were going to make sure they were okay. And then he mentioned medical treatment, and his eyes went wide with fear. What if the doctors saw their reactors and decided they needed surgery? The device was far from comfortable; it impacted his breathing, it felt weird and hurt and was heavy in his chest. Sleeping comfortably was far from easy. But... His hand found it's way to his chest. "I-I don't want more surgery."

And Raiden was going to go away? His brows furrowed with further concern. The base was probably safer than wandering the desert had been, but his presence was still a source of comfort. Certainly not in their hair.

His Dad seemed to have a similar thought process.

"Yeah, you've been nice. You've been-been doing fine." He assured. "You don't have to leave." Maybe he had another job to go to. If someone else needed help, or he just wanted to take off, Grayson didn't want him to feel like he had to stay, but he certainly didn't want him to feel like he was in the way, either.

What? What did he mean? A part of him knew. Grayson's feet slammed the escape hatch open, hopping out from the back compartment of the suit.

"Yinsen, no! We'll find another way. We're getting out of here together! Don't make me chase after you." The boy threatened, voice desperate and terrified. The old doctor paused, warmth and sadness in his eyes.

"Alright... We'll find another way."

... That kept replaying in his mind. What he could have done. Could have tried to do. Because he should've done something. It had just happened so fast, and he'd been so scared, and climbing into the back of the suit was a whole process in itself, it wasn't as easy as just kicking the escape hatch open... he was pretty sure. He could've delayed everything and maybe things would've turned out even worse, but... Maybe he could've stopped him. Maybe they could've protected him, too. Gray wasn't sure how, because the scenes played over and over in his mind and they'd hardly escaped themselves, but... He couldn't let go of the what ifs? Of the guilt.

And now they were aimlessly roaming the desert. His mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper. His muscles ached. His skin was scratched up and burned. He dragged his feet with every step and had fallen to his knees a couple times as they trudged up the inclines. The sunlight taunted them, glimmering on the sand in the distance and giving the appearance of water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hot. Back home if he got too hot, he'd take refuge under a beach umbrella, or go inside where there was A/C and cool floors. There was no refuge from this. They had to keep going. The people who protected them didn't do so just for them to give up and collapse in the sand.

Even if he was so... so tired. And his chest ached with every breath. And it was like there was a humming sound in his brain... wait.

It was getting louder. Was he going to pass out or something? The exhausted boy peered up at his Dad, as he seemed to notice the sound too. Suddenly they were running down the sand, waving frantically. His Dad was shouting beside him, Grayson yelled out with a hoarse voice.

His next question, though, was something Raiden could answer. "About three months," he replied. "Right?" he asked Rhodey, who confirmed it with a nod. "I was called after one month. So for me... two months. Narrowed it down to a specific area and took a chance. I guess I was right," he said with a smile. "I've got experience with finding people. Especially people held against their will," he then said, thinking of Sunny. "It's one of those skillsets I hope no one ever needs from me, but if they do, I'm happy to help."

While his attempts to keep Tony engaged enough in conversation to keep him together for now had worked wonders, it seemed to have greatly disturbed Grayson. Raiden regretted sharing so much. As light as he tried to make it, he supposed that there was no way to gloss over what he'd been through, especially to people who had just been through something similar. "Hey... it's okay. Don't worry about it. You don't need to worry about anything going on with me. And you're safe now. Alright? You're gonna get help and be just fine," he said to try and reassure the traumatized boy.

Tony, feeling his son huddle against his arm, moved to wrap said arm around Gray's shoulders. He rubbed gently, not too vigorously because they were both sore in various ways, but just enough to hopefully reassure him a bit. If anything, the touch itself might be a comfort, even if his son's mind was still racing with other things.

"Yeah, well... you're shockingly put together... up here... for someone all that's happened to," Tony said, pointing to his own head.

"Nah. I just fake it really well," Raiden said with a shrug and a smirk.

"Hey, fake it 'til you make it, that's what I always say," Tony said, though he was sure that faking sanity and composure after that much trauma was not something he was capable of. He was certain of it. So certain. And yet, ironically, that's exactly what he was doing right at this moment, for both himself and his son.

"Exactly," Raiden said.

"So... uh... Listen. If you ever... I mean, you... probably have your own thing goin' on, with all that," Tony said, gesturing now to Raiden's body, "but if you ever need any repairs, or upgrades, or just... fun stuff... my door's always open. I really mean that. I'm... incredibly grateful for this," he gestured now around the helicopter, and then at Grayson. "Just. All of it. So. You've got a favor from me... or twelve... if you ever need it. Soon as I, you know... get myself back in working order."

Raiden seemed a bit taken aback by that. The famous Tony Stark? Offering him repairs and upgrades? Did he hear that right? Guilt set in again, because he really hadn't done anything that would warrant such a gift as that, but... he also knew that his options were limited for maintaining himself, and if his current contract with Maverick fell through for any reason, he'd find himself in dire straits pretty quickly. Someone like Stark... could be a lifeline for him. Literally. "Thanks. That's-... I appreciate that, it's very kind of you."

You don't have to think about that right now. Instead he re-focused on Raiden's words. They'd searched for them for three months. Two for Raiden. "Thank you all for looking for us for-for that long." He murmured. His throat was dry again, so he took another sip of water. While he normally didn't care for plastic water bottles, Grayson found himself savouring the familiar flavour. For the time being, he was just grateful for a taste of home.

When it came to Raiden's past, the boy hugged his water bottle and leaned into his Dad, grateful when Tony wrapped a gentle arm around him. Reassuring words were cast his way, and he found himself nodding. Inside, he wanted to scream and cry for so many people, and for himself, too. He didn't have to worry about what was going on with him? "I can't just... not." His small voice cracked. To him, he was caring. And he didn't want to not care.

"Help?" What kind of help did Raiden mean? His mind jumped to doctors, but there was also food, sleep, people were helping right then, with getting them... Where were they going, anyways? Directly home? Not likely, in a helicopter like this. Back to the military base? Maybe.

Raiden did seem very calm and collected for someone who'd gone through so much. When the other said he faked it, however, Gray couldn't help but wonder if he felt like screaming and crying on the inside, too.

What? What did he mean? A part of him knew. Grayson's feet slammed the escape hatch open, hopping out from the back compartment of the suit.

"Yinsen, no! We'll find another way. We're getting out of here together! Don't make me chase after you." The boy threatened, voice desperate and terrified. The old doctor paused, warmth and sadness in his eyes.

"Alright... We'll find another way."

... That kept replaying in his mind. What he could have done. Could have tried to do. Because he should've done something. It had just happened so fast, and he'd been so scared, and climbing into the back of the suit was a whole process in itself, it wasn't as easy as just kicking the escape hatch open... he was pretty sure. He could've delayed everything and maybe things would've turned out even worse, but... Maybe he could've stopped him. Maybe they could've protected him, too. Gray wasn't sure how, because the scenes played over and over in his mind and they'd hardly escaped themselves, but... He couldn't let go of the what ifs? Of the guilt.

And now they were aimlessly roaming the desert. His mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper. His muscles ached. His skin was scratched up and burned. He dragged his feet with every step and had fallen to his knees a couple times as they trudged up the inclines. The sunlight taunted them, glimmering on the sand in the distance and giving the appearance of water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hot. Back home if he got too hot, he'd take refuge under a beach umbrella, or go inside where there was A/C and cool floors. There was no refuge from this. They had to keep going. The people who protected them didn't do so just for them to give up and collapse in the sand.

Even if he was so... so tired. And his chest ached with every breath. And it was like there was a humming sound in his brain... wait.

It was getting louder. Was he going to pass out or something? The exhausted boy peered up at his Dad, as he seemed to notice the sound too. Suddenly they were running down the sand, waving frantically. His Dad was shouting beside him, Grayson yelled out with a hoarse voice.

The only good thing about everything that Raiden had suffered in his life, was that it gave him an understanding of how he didn't want to treat others, and an even bigger understanding of how to recognize trauma in others. That way, he could use his own experience with dealing with it to help others.

Tony, on the other hand, was just trying to hold his shit together in front of his son. He wanted to cry, to freak out, to just lose it, but he couldn't do that. Grayson needed him to be strong right now. Kids were funny like that sometimes. If they saw their parents remaining calm, they were calm. If their parents started losing their marbles over something, the kids became scared. So Tony knew he had to hold himself together so that Grayson didn't panic. As soon as he was alone, though, he knew his cheese was going to slip right off his cracker...

"Yeah, that's... All I did was use a thermal scanner for a few seconds. That's not usually considered a job well done for someone like me, kid," Raiden said, though his tone was kind. "But thanks. I appreciate it."

"So you're not paid for peace of mind, is that it?" Tony asked.

"I am sometimes, but not for ten seconds worth of work. Peace of mind as a bodyguard on an entire trip of some kind for a diplomat to feel safe? Sure. Scanning a desert once? Not exactly worth the hefty price tag I come with. I don't set the prices, by the way. I see like ten percent of it. It all goes to maintenance, repairs, and upgrades. Sometimes transport and weaponry."

"Maintenance of... what?" Tony asked, trying to stay awake.

Raiden patted his stomach. "This tin can sittin' right here."

"There's no way that's tin," Tony said, calling bullshit.

Raiden chuckled. "Steel, carbon, and titanium alloys, mostly."

"Yeah, that's better. Hey... How much of that is you under there?" Tony asked, gesturing at Raiden's midsection, though he felt rude the second he asked.

"None of it," Raiden replied.

"I'm sorry, what?" Tony asked, blinking.

it was a question he didn't like answering, because it hit somewhere personal for him, but if it kept this guy talking and calm so that his boy was equally calm, then it served a purpose. He'd done a lot worst to himself to help civilians before. After that, answering a question wasn't so bad. He lifted a metal hand to push up some of his rather fluffy white hair from the side of his face. "See this line?" His finger slowly tracecd what looked like a seam along his cheek. Above it looked like normal flesh, but below it, his jaw and teeth were metal. "Everything from this line down is mechanical. The only human parts I have left... are most of my head and my spine. That's it."

"Geezus Christmas on a cracker," Tony said, practically twitching at the idea. "Who the hell authorized that kind of surgery?"

Raiden's gaze dropped awkwardly. "Yeah it... uh... It wasn't voluntary. And it wasn't done in the U.S."

Tony just stared, a horrified look on his face. After hearing that, having a reactor in his chest seemed like a walk in the park. And it wasn't. It wasn't a walk in the park. It hurt and it felt weird and it was disturbing. So if he felt that way about one little reactor in his chest, how the actual hell was this guy this normal-sounding having all that done to him. Tony didn't know what to say, so he just said, "I'm... I'm sorry."

Brown eyes flickered up to Raiden as he countered Gray's argument. "Well, it meant a lot to me..." He replied, softly. He didn't have it in him to argue too passionately, for the moment, but he didn't want the man undervaluing his impact, either. His voice was hoarse as he asked,

"How long were you all looking for us?" And how long had they been in the cave? He'd lost track of day and night. The main sense of a timeline he'd had was how long his Dad had been given to assemble the missile. How long they'd had to come up with a means of escape. But, that had only come after they'd been in the cave a while. "Traveling is work, too." He was still working, in Gray's eyes, even if he wasn't actively scanning anything.

The boy's brows furrowed as Raiden shared his portion of the price of his services. Ten percent didn't seem very fair, given he was the one putting his life at risk. His focus was quickly distracted as Raiden patted his stomach, soon confirming what Gray had wondered when they'd met. At first he assumed the man essentially had an abdominal version of the reactor, but no... He was tech from his head down, outside of his spine. Grayson felt nauseous. Maybe he shouldn't have chugged his water so fast.

Even worse, the surgery hadn't been by choice.

The cave floor was dusty. Several pairs of shoes were rooted around the cot. The boy had held his hands to his ears.

It was horrifying to think of Raiden going through something similar. Grayson buried his face in Tony's arm, feeling small and scared and desperate to know his Dad was safe ... I'm sorry. Was all he could think to murmur, but Tony spoke the words first so he nodded his agreement. His head turned outwards just enough for brown eyes to meet Raiden's. His expression spoke for him; sad, horrified, empathetic.