Not All Wounds Heal

Tony

Tony Stark wasn't used to being told no. It would happen from time to time, of course, but it made it no less tolerable with each time; in fact, this time was quickly becoming his final straw as he stared back at the Emergency Room receptionist like she was an alien with three heads, speaking in a language that he couldn't quite understand. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, you're Tony Stark. It says that right here on your registration paperwork, sir."

"I'm Iron Man."

"Well, sir, as impressive as that may be to some, it won't change the fact that you have to wait for your turn just like everyone else here."

"I don't want a turn, and I sure as hell am not like everyone else," he snapped back, rubbing a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just need to see (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

"I've told you, Mr. Stark, we have no one here by that name."

You stood just around the corner from the front desk where he was standing, trying to control the pounding of your heart as if he could have actually heard it carried in the space between you. Phil had reassured you that there was no way for the team to find you here, but your eyes and ears weren't lying; you snapped a quick picture of your now former teammate and sent it to him, groaning quietly when his only reply was a string of expletives and a few choice names for Nick.

You had completely changed your hair color and style for this, going so far as to allow Coulson's two awkwardly brilliant scientists change the color of your eyes to make the transformation more striking to throw anyone off if they were looking for you. Nick had given you a reassurance that your disguise was sound, but he had also said that the team would never find you, so his word was now crap. Taking a deep breath and setting your bag on a nearby desk, you hurried to put on your white lab coat and shook away your nerves, deciding that now was as good of a time as any to test this out, and that Tony would be the ultimate subject to see if this would pass or fail.

"I can see you," you greeted with an uncertain voice, feeling the sudden urge to sprint in the opposite direction when his eyes met yours. "I may not be who you're looking for, but I'm pretty good at stitches if you want me to fix up that hand."

"I thought...I thought I had to wait..." he stammered, his mouth dropping open at the sight of you, "I had to wait my turn."

"I can make an exception for Iron Man."

"Right," he agreed, doing his best to smile politely, "that would be great, thanks." Tony nodded for you to lead the way to one of the exam rooms, readily following your steps close behind as he studied everything about you, right down to your most subtle movements as you walked. He was still convinced that you were who he thought you were, and it was going to take a hell of a lot more than just a new hair style and eye color to change his mind. He didn't drive here all the way from New York just to willingly slice his hand open for the wrong person; he was certain that it was you.

"Have a seat," you pointed to one of the gurneys, slipping on your examination gloves while he got as comfortable as possible. "Now, Mr. Stark-"

"Tony."

"Mr. Stark," you insisted, "what did you do to your hand?"

"I slipped on some ice."

"And it made this extremely clean cut across your palm? That seems rather strange."

"I thought the patient was always right?" he smirked, holding his hand out for you to take. When you took it in yours, even with the barrier over your skin, you felt the clamminess of his nerves coating it. He pulled it away as quickly as he could once you were done looking at it, averting his eyes from giving away the fear that was building up within him. The last thing that he wanted to do now was to make you run, so soon after he had finally found you. "I thought you were someone else. Could you let your co-workers know that I'm sorry that I was so pushy?"