chapter xviii.
( iron man 3 )

and i'll use you as a warning sign
that   if  you   talk  enough  sense
then    you'll   lose   your    mind
i found ─── amber run

malibu, california
december 17, 2012
( six days ago )

When people say that they're sick, you don't naturally assume that they're dying. You assume that they have some nasty cold and you buy them a "Get Well Soon" card on the way home from work. You don't automatically assume that their lives are ending and, if you do, it's because you've had experience with the words, "I'm sick". You know what those words mean. And that's what I meant when I whispered them to myself.

"I'm sick."

I was met back with relative silence and the small daylight that drifted in from my bedroom window.

My thin, trembling form stayed curled up on my bed, staring off at the far wall with tired eyes. I hadn't slept in days; four, to be precise. I wasn't sure if it was just because I couldn't or because I was trying to avoid the nightmares and visions. Perhaps it was both.

"I'm sick," I repeated to the empty space, my voice cracking as I did.

I continued to stare at the wall for a long moment as the computer continued to beep and flash with the results of my latest progression test.

Four more months.

Four more months until I was supposed to die.

My hands kept their near constant shake as I pressed a few keys so that I could record my newest message.

"December 17, 2012, 6:56 a.m.," I took in a desperate, short breath and continued to speak into the microphone, "New update. Vein degeneration and toxic infection has rapidly progressed. After latest test, new timetable reveals four months until my body completely shuts down," I rubbed my tired, naturally dark-outlined eyes, "This comes after last month's progression test estimate of thirteen months. No change in diet, exercise, or activity since that time and now. For reasons unknown, my body has decided to speed up the process by about eight months," my hands dropped to my lap as I still fought the small tremble in my voice, "That being said, I really have no idea when the vein degeneration and toxic infection will take full effect," I pitifully sighed and massaged my temples, "So it all comes down to this: I'm going to die."

Christmas was coming up.

My last Christmas.

My throat ached as I swallowed and kept going, "Tomorrow, next week, two months from now, or four months from now; it doesn't matter. All continuous tests have again resulted in no possible cures. I am officially screwed."

There was an empty and heavy silence after my last words, after everything.

Life around the mansion had been both fake and pointless while the darkness of everything that had happened weighed over us. No one would admit it, but it was hitting us pretty hard lately.

Seven months before was the Battle of New York and my dad almost died, flying with a nuclear weapon through a portal to another galaxy. So, that was heavy.

Then there were my nightmares that lead to my screaming that woke us all up nearly every night, even with the heavy sleeping pills that Bruce Banner had made for me.

And let's not forget Dad's odd behavior around that time. He'd be his usual totally weird and outrageous self one minute and then the next he'd be just gone. Blank. It was like he disappeared and only a shell of him was left behind. It somewhat reminded me of all the times he had pulled away from me during my childhood. I couldn't help but think the only reason he was able to float in and out of it was because of Pepper. She kept him grounded and around when I could not. And maybe that hurt. No. It's wasn't a 'maybe'. God, it hurt. I can't even begin to describe how despicable I felt for feeling that way.

Then with the day before being the anniversary of Grandma and Howard dying in the car accident I was involved in, well, life had been grim to say the least.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

Shivering from the nonexistent breeze, I frowned and winced at the soreness in my shoulders. My fingers clicked to end the recording and then, in a sudden fit of anger, I slammed the laptop lid closed. Besides, I didn't need anybody accidentally seeing that information. That would just be nightmarish. I knew that he deserved to know. Everybody deserved to know. A five month long secret was going to be coming to a close and I guess I owed it to them to allow them some time to process things before everything went kapoot.

Oh God.

I buried my face in my hands and shook my head, feeling my dark hair flop across my shoulders as I did.

"Lisa!" Pepper's voice caused my head to slowly lift up as her knuckles rapped against my wooden door.

I didn't respond as I tried to shake away my thoughts.

"Hey Sweetheart, it's me," Pepper hesitantly continued when I didn't respond, "You said you needed to catch a ride with me yesterday, do you still want that?"

I took in a small, whimpering breath as I curled my arms around myself.

No. No, I didn't want that.

There was another pause before she quietly said, "Lees, I know you don't want to go, but, Sweetheart, it'll be better if you do."

There was another pause as I fought tears and my wrists ached terribly. I could feel my irises pulling back and forth, larger and smaller as my mind fought the visions threatening to overcome me. Finally, I took in a crackling breath and my head slowly nodded. I had to do this. I didn't want to, but I had to. Everybody said I had to.

I licked my lips and flipped my hair off of my forehead, "Uh, yeah. Thanks. Sorry," my voice was full of tears as I croaked, "I-I'll be right out."

"Okay, Honey," there was an awful sadness in her voice, "I'll meet you downstairs."

Both of my hands covered my pale lips so I could hold in whatever cries that built up in me. No tears fell, but I felt my chest heave with the sobs all the same. I nodded to myself silently. They said I had to do this. I had to do this.

I slumped off of my bed and limply crawled over to my closet. My hands shook as I gripped onto the wall to drag myself up to my feet. Breathing had become more difficult these days. Even the most simplest of tasks took great effort on my part. As I gasped, I tore off Dad's AC/DC shirt and replaced it with one of his simple gray ones. It was slow going when I pulled on what was supposed to be a pair of black skinny jeans. Everything was baggy which was one of the reasons I began to wear Dad's shirts on a more daily basis; they hid how bony I was getting a little better.

When I was completely clothed, I straightened up and took a step forward only to be overwhelmed by a wave of darkness. My eyes squeezed closed as I stretched a hand back to catch myself on the wall. My hand suddenly slipped and I ended up falling back completely. My back harshly smacked into the wall and I crumbled down to the ground with a groan. I laid in a pile of dirty clothes for a long moment, blinking my dark lashes and trying to get my vision to come back. Soon my bed came back into view and then the nightstand with our family picture and then finally I was able to see my bedroom door. With a deep breath, I pushed myself off of the ground and stumbled to the door. For some reason, mornings and nights were always harder on my body.

When I finally made it downstairs, Pepper was sitting on the couch with her phone in her hand. When she heard my Converse covered feet scuffling on the tiles, she looked up and smiled at me. I forced one in response, brushing my wild hair out of my eyes only for it to flutter back down. Dad was nowhere to be found, as per usual.

"You want some breakfast before we run?" Pepper motioned towards the kitchen before she stood and grabbed her bag.

I gave my head a small shake and stuffed my bruised hands into my pockets, "Nah, 'M not hungry."

She didn't speak for a long second, studying me. I straightened my shoulders back, blinked a few times to wake myself up, and flipped my hair over my shoulders. I needed to look strong. They needed to see me as strong. Pepper and I held a staring contest for a few moments, waiting for the other person to clear the air. There was so much to say and so little time to say it. Turns out neither of us wanted to anyway. With a small grimace, she let out a subtle sigh and nodded a little.

Half an hour later, Happy and Pepper had dropped me off in front of a large glassy building and then I was curled up in a psychologist's overly cushioned chair. The room was cold and unforgiving, and I didn't wanted to be there.

"So," Doctor Harding, my long time therapist, started quietly, "how have you been feeling lately?"

I didn't answer her for a long moment. I just stared off into space, blinking and rubbing my fingers against the metal of my thrusters. The clock clicked at an annoying rhythm as it hung on the wall to my right. Just an hour and a half left and then I could go back home. The couch that was pressed up against the wall looked inviting, but I doubted Doctor Harding would be so nice as to let me just nap through the session. I had asked the week before and she had just blinked at me. I took that as a 'no'.

I felt myself sway slightly as I began to retreat further and further into my head. How did I feel? I was sick. I was dying. I was insane. Oh, everyone thought I was insane. I was not insane! Oh God, I was insane. There were voices and demons in my head. Smiles of men who wanted to take over the world. The sound of my voice repeating a mantra that belonged to me: I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. Visions of everyone I have ever loved dying before me. The thought of me forcibly kneeling before a monster. Beautiful stones consuming me as I am now forever tethered to them. How did I feel? How did I feel? That was a question I had been asked so many times that I only knew one response to it.

"Okay."

Doctor Harding wasn't an idiot.

Unfortunately.

"You don't look okay," she tapped her pen twice against the pad of paper resting on her armrest.

"Yeah, well, sorry I didn't put on makeup this morning, I was too busy not wanting to come," I told her with a monotone voice, feeling a tired anger sizzle out of me.

She let out a heavy sigh, giving me the look that everyone had been looking at me with lately, "I can't help you if you don't let me."

Help me. No one could help me.

I took in what was meant to be a deep breath and then I weakly shook my head. This was so pointless. I was dying and yet I was going to therapy sessions. I had less than four months of my life left and I was spending them inside a cold, unfamiliar building while I should have been with my friends and family.

"It has nothing to do with makeup, Lisa," Doctor Harding continued, getting nearly angry with me, "Your family says you haven't left the house and been getting fresh air like I suggested. I swear that would make you feel a lot better. And look at you, Lisa," I looked down at myself as she went on, "You clearly haven't been eating!"

I had lost so much weight. I usually weighed around a hundred and fifteen, but I was just below ninety pounds. My therapist, along with my father and Pepper, thought it was depression. Then again, so did the tabloids. Apparently, I was anemic. God, were the tabloids having a field day at my expense. I suppose that was another reason I hadn't left the house much. With my new status as the "Red Raven" and then my rapidly changing appearance, well, I was quite the story. We all were. I couldn't just suffer in private; everybody had to see. And everybody thought it was because of the trauma of New York that this was happening to me. Ha, that was only part of it. The joke was on them. I wasn't depressed; I was dying... Wow. That sounded much better before I actually put it into words.

"They say you haven't been sleeping."

My eyes flicked down to my purple and blue hands as I swallowed hard, feeling the burn in my throat.

"Have you still been having them?" she asked softly, "The flashes, I mean,"

My stomach twisted into knots and my breathing picked up. The flashes. Oh God, the flashes. They hadn't left me alone. And Loki. He was always there, always with me. I didn't think they were ever going to leave me alone. When I first started having them and when Loki first was inside my head, I thought that all they needed to stop was for the Tesseract and Loki to leave the planet. Then, a few nights after the battle, the flashes came back in the form of dreams. Most of the time, it was just the same snippets that would repeat in my head over and over and over. The nights when I had a new flash always made my head hurt more and my screams get louder.

A monster sitting on a throne.

"You are mine."

The sky raining down as if it were pulled from the heavens.

Loki being pulled into a gray-green sky.

A look of absolute fear on my father's face.

"Yeah," I whispered out before harshly swallowing and shaking my head.

The therapist's face changed into one of thought, "And you've still been taking the medication Doctor Banner prescribed?"

"Mmm," I hummed in the affirmative as my fingers tapped out an unusual beat.

"What is it that you see?"

My eyes shifted up so that I could glare at the woman.

I had never told anyone what I saw after that day in the helicarrier. Everyone knew I still had them and, God, did I get pressed for information. I couldn't even count the number of times S.H.I.E.L.D. came to me, attempting to drag the information out. Director Fury was nice about it most of the time; I think him liking me played a big part in him not strapping me to a table and having my one of my best friends, Natasha, interrogate the living daylights out of me. Though there were occasional times when the agent that was sent was too harsh with his words and his demands. Dad always stood around whenever they came and he usually kicked them out within the first ten minutes of the "necessary discussion". Not even he could pull me out of the trances that I was sent into when it went south. I could be stuck in them for hours.

S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't the only one who asked about my visions though. The media had somehow heard about them, so they were all over me about it. There was one time when Dad punched another reporter across the face because they asked if anyone had been considering admitting me into a mental hospital. They were merciless and I couldn't bear to hear it from them. Dad asked. Pepper asked. And even if their motive was to simply help me, they knew I couldn't handle talking about it. They knew what it did to me. And Doctor Harding did too. I had told her so many times.

"Lisa, wait, I'm sorry," the doctor realized her mistake just a little too late.

I couldn't even look at her. I abruptly stood up and stumbled for the door before she had a chance to stop me. She was yelling out my name again when I shakily turned down the hall and went out the back entrance so that she wouldn't be able to find me. I shoved my hands in my baggy pockets and began trudging down the alleyway with my head ducked low and my shoulders drooped. Happy wasn't going to be there to pick me up for another hour and a half so I supposed my boots were made for walking. Well, really they were Converses, but that was beside the point.

I was just reaching the exit of the alleyway when a hand suddenly touched my shoulder. I felt myself gasp in all of the air surrounding me as panic welled up like a sponge in my chest. My fingers harshly twisted the dials of my thrusters before I spun around to blast whoever was attacking me. They merely sparked and flashed with light as I felt an ache shoot through my wrists. The vein degeneration made sure that my thrusters were the first thing to give way, making me cry out. The man dodged my meager attack anyway, stepped back, and then quickly raised his hands.

He gave me this frightening laugh, stepping around me a bit, "I don't want trouble, Miss Stark."

He knew my name? Of course, he knew your name, you idiot.

He looked a couple years older than my dad and was a decent gap taller than I was, maybe around five" nine'. He was a rather good looking guy, I supposed, with sandy blonde hair, nice teeth, and tan skin. As I glared into his eyes, I realized that he looked actually a little familiar.

He continued on with that same smile, "I swear I didn't come here to hurt you. I just came here to talk to you."

My brows angrily furrowed as I weakly yelled, "You came to talk to me and yet you attacked me in an alley?!"

"It was not meant as an attack, Miss Stark, I can promise you that," the handsome man gave me another grin, "I was really just trying to get your attention."

"Touch me again and I'll kill you," I seethed before turning around to walk away.

"Miss Stark," he again rested a hand on my shoulder, trying to stop me.

A wave of adrenaline shot through me. I whirled around and yelled as I socked him across the face, completely breaking his nose. My knuckles were killing me, but, by the way the side of his nose was literally touching his cheek, I imagined his pain had to be a lot worse. That was until I saw his skin slowly begin to glow. My eyes widened in shock and horror as I stepped back a bit. Orange flushed through his tan skin and converged towards his broken nose. He raised a hand and his index and middle fingers easily turned it back into place. My jaw dropped and I felt my stomach twist up in knots as I realized at how much I was at a disadvantage. Once his nose was back into place, the glowing hue dissipated and all that was left with his nearly smug smile. It had almost looked like he had fire inside of him.

I couldn't help the snarky words from dripping out of my mouth, "Man, I've seen some bad spray-on tans, but that's just somethin' else."

The man frowned at me, unimpressed.

"No?" I raised my eyebrows and then quickly furrowed them as he continued to frown, "Alright then, fine."

The more I studied him, the more suspicious and frightened I became of who this man was. Whatever was going on, it was not normal (not that anything is anymore) and we both knew I had no means to protect myself with. He was strong and I was weak. Just like it always was.

He sighed and tsked, widening his eyes in my direction, "You see, Miss Stark, if you had just let me talk as I said I wanted to, I would've been able to explain without this show and dance."

"I-I don't unders-stand," I shook my head.

Then, just before he had the chance to make me understand, I suddenly remembered where I knew him from. Realization dawned on me like a baseball bat across the side of the head. That night on the roof, nearly thirteen or so years before. Bern, Switzerland. Where we met Yinsen for the first time and didn't even remember it. Where I convinced the man before me not to commit suicide.

"O-oh my word," I whispered, watching him with wide eyes, "Aldrich Killian."

He smiled a smile that I knew was not his, especially after seeing what he looked like thirteen years ago, "It's good to see you again, Lisa Stark. I was hoping you'd remember me. I've heard you have an impeccable memory."

I shook my head again as the questions poured out of my mouth, "Wh-What are you doing here? How did you find me? What's-What's wrong with your skin?"

He clasped his hands behind his back and stood straighter, "I've heard about your troubles."

My eyes narrowed as I became defensive once more, "You're going to have do better than that, Buddy. In case you haven't been watching the news, I have a lot of 'troubles'."

He smirked, "I don't believe the news has said anything about you dying, has it?"

I felt all of the color drain from my face and my throat burned once more, "How do you know about that?"

"I've kept my tabs on you, Lisa,"

I stepped back a little.

"I did it to make sure you were okay, Lisa Stark," he rolled his eyes as mine flickered down.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

"You did me a favor that night on the roof and I've been wanting to do you one in return."

"I don't need your help," I snapped.

I was about to turn away again when he spoke, "It's called Extremis."

I glanced over my shoulder with my feet stumbling a little, "What is?"

He walked closer to me, "It heals people, Lisa," his voice grew full of wonder and near excitement, "It's beautiful. It can heal you."

The idea filled me with something I hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. God, it was infectious. It threatened to overcome and drown me in it. But I couldn't do that to myself again. It had been months upon months of finding hope and then having it shattered. It was so painful to be crushed like that. Not to mention all of the tests and experiments I had performed upon myself that were nearly unbearable. I couldn't do it again. I couldn't.

I slowly shook my head, facing him as my voice grew weaker, "I've tried everything, Mr. Killian."

"No, not everything," he walked even closer, "Not this. Help me, Lisa, help me finish Extremis. The formula is nearly perfect. Your brains matched with our work would get us exactly where we need to be," he went on convincing and, oh, it was so convincing, "You said you've tried everything and yet you're still dying. Will you ignore the one thing that will actually save you?"

I stared at him for a long moment with bitter suspicion in my eyes.

"Do you want to die, Lisa?" he asked in genuine question.

My already shaking hands curled into fists at my sides. I guess that was just always such a sore subject for me. Everyone has always asked or thought that I am suicidal. They believe that I want to die or that I am trying to kill myself. When I stood on the roof with Edgar Frost as a two year old, he told me that I wanted to jump. When I was fourteen, my father wondered if I wanted to get myself killed by Edgar or by the Ten Rings when I returned to Afghanistan without his consent. Then, the next year, he thought I was attempting to slit my wrists. Now, a few months shy of two years later, everyone thought I was depressed and trying to starve myself to death. I wasn't trying to kill myself!

"No," I hissed through gritted teeth.

He stretched out a tan and manicured hand, "Well then?"

I didn't want to subject myself to any of that pain again. Did I really want to spend my last few months agonizing over something that was doomed to fail? But I remembered his nose and I remembered how his skin flushed with orange energy as it healed itself. If it could heal a broken nose, what could stop it from healing deteriorating veins and cleaning blood toxic with eroding thruster wires? I didn't want to die. This thing, this Extremis, it could save me.

One last try.

One last time.

After a moment of slight hesitation, I took his hand and shook it firmly.

Aldrich Killian gave a wide smile, "Welcome to AIM."

That was Mistake #1.

Hehehe. Yay! Sooooo, yep. A lot of things went on in this chapter, a lot of the different plot things that are going to make a difference in the story. Sorry about Lisa, by the way. Don't shoot me! We're going to be hearing a lot more about the "vein degeneration and toxic infection" in the future of this book. Yikes! What did you think? Did you see this kind of twist-thing coming? And how about her connection with Aldrich Killian? Did you guess that was coming? I want to hear your thoughts!

Still no Tony yet, but next chapter, I promise. And the Mandarin - oooooh! So excited! Okay, well, thanks for reading! See you soon!

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Okay, Funny Thingamabob (hehehe):

It's so realistic though