CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT
He wasn't hurt. Not physically. His scars were roots that ran deep into his soul, and the sight of Toni's ruined body had fractured it. Shattered it.
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Toni only remembers small details when she wakes up:
The world exploding in her ears.
The smell of singed hair.
A voice telling her to hold on. To not die, because they'll kill her if she dies, and make sure her name is Toni Stank on her obituary.
Red eyes meeting her brown ones.
A hurt eased. A weight lifted.
Water in her lungs.
Cold encasing her bones.
She doesn't know where she is when she opens her eyes. Panic immediately sets in: she's back in Afghanistan, Obie never died, Rhodey never found her, it was all a dream, a figment of her imagination so she could deal with the pain the torture the loss the—
"Good afternoon, Miss Stark."
Her surroundings come back into focus.
She's not in Afghanistan. She's... Well, she still not entirely sure where she is, but it's definitely not a cave in the dunes of South-West Asia.
She recognizes the smell first: a metallic tang from stainless steel mixed with the unmistakeable sweetness of bleach. A hospital room. But where there is usually the sound of doors sliding open and shut, intercoms calling out codes and directions, and squeaky wheelchairs, the world is utterly silent.
A girl stands in the doorway, a tablet in her hands. She has dark skin, and full enough cheeks that Toni can assume she's around Peter's age. Much too young to be a doctor of any kind, but then, Toni was only eleven when she'd built her first real weapon. And Peter was running around New York, clad in a million-dollar suit, fighting off guys twice his size. Age really had nothing to do with the capabilities of someone. They were all living proof of that.
"Where am I?" Toni's voice is raspy and frail as that of a woman twice her age.
The doctor or nurse or whatever the hell she is gives Toni a small smile. "You are in Wakanda."
Toni gives a pointed glance to her surroundings. "This doesn't look like Wakanda."
The girl's smile only widens. "That's because the world hasn't seen the true Wakanda yet. You are one of few, Miss Stark."
A huff. "Stop calling me that. It makes me feel old."
The girl—whose name Toni still has yet to know—purses her lips together, as though stopping herself from saying something particularly malicious.
"Your arc has taken extensive damage. I've done everything I can to fix it besides surgically removing it from your chest."
Toni feels a spark of panic at the girl's words.
"It would be a very invasive surgery, as I'm sure you're well aware. I need your consent before I am able to proceed—"
