A NEW TYPE OF TORTURE

Ileana slumped in her wheelchair, relaxing in Rhodey's company. Her eyes were drooping and her limbs felt like they were moulded from lead - she blamed it on her tossing and turning in the night. Despite trying her hardest to be at peace and relax, her muscles continued to be tensed and her eyes were glued wide open. She told herself that the reason that her head was fuzzy because she didn't sleep well, and the feeling hadn't faded since the sun rose. If anything, it only manifested into a monster. 

She expressed her anxiety to the nurses when they came in for the usual check up. They only nodded when they saw the concerns written on the paper, continuing to bustle around her. Their faces were distant as their hands flew across the pages, noting down how she was recovering. One of them, a spindly women with very little meat on her bones, caught sight of Ileana playing with her hands. It was something she'd picked up on that she did when she was uncomfortable. She grinned at the beaten woman in the bed, her voice as soft as silk. "It's probably just the pain meds you're taking sunshine. Everyone complains about feeling light headed when they take them. Trust me, there's no need to be so worried!"

Her fingers halted in their shaky dance. The muscles she didn't know she was clenching had been relieved, like soldiers who were told that they were off duty. She seemed to have visibly calmed as the woman gave a nod then rushed out of the room, already panicking about the fact that she was already off schedule when she had only started her shift half an hour ago. Ileana shifted her dull eyes downwards, cursing herself for having wasted the nurses time with such stupid questions.

It hurt so much. 

Ileana thought she knew every pain on the earth. She believed that she had long since familiarised herself with the burning agony that came with moving a singe inch, the torturous pain of even sucking in a breath. In a selfish way, she was grateful she hadn't encountered this type of pain before. For if she had, she didn't know if she would have lived the second time around. 

Rhodey noticed her wince when picking her pen. He saw her bite her lip hard enough to draw blood as she dragged the pen agonisingly slowly across the paper, tears springing to her eyes. He witnessed her body sagging in relief as she finished writing what she needed to say. 

His heart ached for her. She was in so much pain, and he couldn't help her. He stared at her, watching her face contort at every movement. He knew that if she was in that much hurt, she shouldn't have come to his room. Yet, a selfish part of him deep down was glad that she came. Tony's visits were normally fleeting, him rushing back and forth to places he didn't want to go. He needed human contact that wasn't wearing a lab coat or saying words he didn't understand. 

He needed Ileana. 

Ileana stared back. She let herself explore the slanted panes of his narrow face, his full lips that pouted whenever she made fun of him, and his deep brown eyes that were so common, but not. They held the pure beauty of the world, the determination of one man and his strong faith in the world. With all of the hardships he'd endured, his eyes were still shining bright, as though lit by three suns. 

Without looking away from her, he leaned over and picked up the notepad. They had already made a dent in the book, being about a quarter of the way through. All of it full of their conversations, the rare time it being with Tony. 

How are you?

He couldn't even muster a tiny lift of the lips. She endured a lot of pain to ask him if he was okay. If anything, that made a heavy weight build up on his shoulders. She didn't have to do that. 

"I'm peachy, not so sure about you though." He reached back over, dropping the notepad onto her tray lightly. His hand hung in the air for a moment, an internal battle commencing in his head. His arm began to get numb, and he slightly moved further over the bed. His hand pressed to her forehead. Instantly his hand was met with a scorching heat. 

He spoke softly, so quiet that even God himself couldn't hear it. "Ana, you're not feeling too good, are you?" 

A choked sob escaped her lips. It only ignited more pain throughout her body but she couldn't help it, it was too much - a vicious cycle. Instinctively, soothing noises were whispered to her, his hand still on her forehead. Her face was crumpled, and she hadn't opened her eyes since her cries overtook her body. His fingers itched to hold her hand and make it alright, yet the thought of moving his hand away from her for even a second seemed impossible. His mind won over his desire, and he began to withdraw his hand slowly, inch by inch by inch. 

Her hand snapped up. She grabbed a hold of his wrist, with a gentle force pressing it back to her head. Ileana shook her head, glassy eyed. He never realised how dry her hands were. They hadn't looked perfect; he didn't imagine them being this abrasive. Now that they had made contact with his skin, he couldn't picture them any other way. It matched what she was like - resilient, and sucked of happiness. 

"It's okay Ana, I'm not going anywhere." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "I couldn't if I tried. My legs don't work." 

A small smile crossed her lips. Triumph flowed through Rhodey. Easing her agony for a moment was a success to him. 

"Ana, I'm just going to press the button to get their help. Is it alright if I take my hand away?" 

Ileana stayed silent for a long time. She made no indication to try and contact him, and he couldn't sense anything of what was going on from her face. She eventually nodded, somewhat reluctantly, the shake of her head barely noticeable. Hesitantly, he removed his hand from her head, stretching to the button above his bed. He pressed it once, twice, three times. He needed them here urgently. 

Ileana waited, her dark skin a shade paler than it had been a moment ago. She looked ten years older, a weariness existing on her face. He was reaching for her, his fingers caressing her sticky skin. 

Ileana gagged. 

Rhodey knew what was happening straight away. He stretched over to her, hands feather light on her back. "I'm going to need you to bend over, okay?" 

Obedient, she leaned over slightly. When she gagged again, he patted her back, repeating the same soothing noises from before. Her eyes closed instinctively. She knew she couldn't hold back again, so when it rose again she had to obey. Her mouth opened. Vibrant red projected from her mouth, tainting the plain white floor. 

"Oh shit!" 

Panic engulfed Rhodey. Shaking, Rhodey quickly released her back, smacking the button above his head. It bounced back and forth, and he didn't know if it was working. He needed to get her help. Immediately. 

"Help!" Rhodey boomed, his hand returning to her back. It was shuddering, and he kept tracing circles on her back, hoping that it would help in some way. Another wave of red drowned the floor. Ileana was shaking even more, an earthquake shrouded in skin. "Help!"

Footsteps thundered outside of the hall, and Rhodey sighed a breath of relief. "Ana, they're here to help." 

Except it wasn't exactly who he was expecting. 

Tony slammed open the door, eyes scouring Rhodey for any injuries. His eyes caught Ileana, the red pooling beneath her. His jaw dropped at the same time he dropped the frowning lilies in his hand, the flowers left abandoned on the floor as Tony darted down the hallway. 

Rhodey had never felt more useless. He couldn't even get up to help his friend, and it might kill her. 

"Don't worry. It'll all be alright soon. You just have to wait a bit longer. You'll be okay." He sounded like he was reassuring himself more than her, yet she didn't care. She wanted him to keep talking, so that if she did finally succumb to the man dressed in black she would die hearing something she liked. 

Her hand found his free one. She clenched onto his as tight as she could. His thumb dragged across her skin, tracing the same two letters into her skin. Ileana focused on those as more blood tainted vomit broke free. 

O.K.

She wasn't sure if she could have the same optimism as he did.