fe_male | memeboxing

[ He does as she asks, because he's sort of letting some things run on autopilot and right now that happens to be one of those things, listening to her. He definitely tenses up a little when she moves into position, but it's not that bad, and everything she just did up until now is helping - he can still remember the feel of her hands in his, and that was comforting, so this. This isn't that bad, he's telling himself. This is still okay. It doesn't mean his response comes out that steady, but it does come out, which is more important. ] Okay.

[ There are blood vessels in the neck that lead to the brain. When compressed, while the rest of your body maintains it's flow of oxygen, the brain becomes convinced that you're not breathing because it's being starved of oxygen. But it's important not to do it for long at all, to try to keep it as danger free as possible. Not that it can ever be entirely danger free, but she has to be certain she's being careful. She breathes in and out, waits for his response and then presses her thumbs in against the vessels, starts counting in her head even as she keeps her mind close to his, trying to ensure that both physically and mentally he's doing all right. ]

[ It doesn't take that long for him to get that singular look on his face - although it's still somewhat tempered by everything she just did in preparation. It's a mitigated, milder version of the only version of 'scared' that his face is capable of making, but it's there nonetheless, because oh god, oh god, he can't breathe, he's not breathing even though he doesn't feel the normal signs associated with that, except that he does, and it's confusing in the discrepancy that he can't quite reconcile because he sort of can't decide if he's breathing or not. The breathing he is doing rapidly becomes very shallow, very fast, and his hands tighten into fists in his lap to keep him from grabbing hers and pulling them down. There's a reason they're doing this - he wants to stop having this problem, and allowing that problem to control the method of its own extinguishment completely defies the point. That doesn't necessarily mean that his side of their connection doesn't gape and waver and threaten a response even if he doesn't actually send one to her yet. ]

[ She really, really despises that look on his face. That she's putting it there is driving a significant part of her brain crazy even if it's by prior arrangement and to help him. She locks that portion of her brain down as much as possible, swallows heavily and keeps counting, staying close to every flicker of his mind, every moment that she might need to respond immediately until she hits the point it's no longer even somewhat safe and lets her fingers slide free, along his shoulders and then down back to his lap, covering his very loosely as she waits. ] Okay? [ Her voice a little tight. She may know she's doing this to help him but nothing she's feeling from him right now is designed to make her comfortable with this no matter how much she might think it's the right choice. ]

[ Don't worry, it'll probably be less intense when he closes his eyes, which is going to be about when she takes her hands away, barely registers that her hands are settling on his own because he's light-headed for a number of reasons now, and closing his eyes helps with the processing, limiting the input. It feels like he needs to gasp but he can't quite decide whether or not he wants to right now. ] Fine. I just - [ He just needs a moment. Just a little one. But it's not as though he's going to tell her he's not fine - it's not only the need to hide any vulnerabilities, but also that he knows this can't be easy no matter which side of it you're on, and he doesn't want to make it worse for either one. ] Just one.

[ That is a little better, and she closes her own eyes because his eyes closed means less attempt at communicating just through his expression and this is a little more tiring than she expected it to be. She nods and then remembers he can't see it, clears her throat and forces herself to speak. ] Don't worry. Whatever you need. [ Hopefully she's reassuring him enough. Her voice sounds weirdly tinny to her ears. But it's hopefully at least the start of progress. ]

How are you? [ He manages to squeeze through his still-too-tight-throat, because he doesn't want her to be hurt in the process of trying to make him a little less of the broken mess that he is. (Deep breath, in, and out. Now a little shallower, in and out. Get yourself back to normal patterns. Even if it's slow going.)

It's after he feels like he's relatively okay, like he's not that lightheaded anymore and he can look her in the face again that he opens his eyes and does just that. It's been quiet for a little while. She seems tired, he thinks, and he muffles their connection a little bit, because he can still transmit her a color without her getting the full force of things, he assumes. He's willing to try it, anyway, if it helps ensure that at least one of them remains functional. ]

I'll be fine. [ That doesn't sound terribly believable, she doesn't think. ] It's hard to do something that hurts you at all, but I can handle it if it's to help. [ Her fingers tighten over his, certain even if a little tense. It's not easy to do this, but it is worth it - or will be, she hopes. She's not going to screw this up now.

She can feel him looking after a moment, opens her eyes again and manages just a tiny bit of a smile for him, shakes her head. ] You don't need to cut anything off. I need to know.

[ Yeah, it didn't sound terribly believable, that's right. The rest of it does though, and together they become the whole of what he thinks is a brave face for his own benefit. He's damaged, traumatized, and a little light-headed right now, but he's never dumb.

That part though, he's less certain about. ] You don't need to know that strongly. This was... [ God, how do you describe it. The next is much softer. ] We need to do it again, don't we. Because otherwise it'll just add to before and whenever we try to come back I'll come up with some kind of excuse about working on something or bullshit. We need to do it again now, don't we. [ It's a peculiar tone there, resigned and worried and determined all at once, even though he's watching her as carefully as his current overload will allow him to do, because if it's too much for her at all, he'll just deal with it. ]

[ An instinct to defend opposed with your own actions is a really weird mix for an empath, especially when distress and anxiety is mixed in. It's partially a brave face and partially just an acceptance of the facts, and the facts are that this is necessary and if she doesn't handle it she'll hurt him more. She's become very good over the years at adapting to handle what must be handled because there is no other choice, and this is better.

She shakes her head a little vehemently. ] I need to know what's going on so I can monitor. It's important, please. [ She can't do this without all the information. It's too much of a risk, too much open area left where she could be damaging him. The strength is painful, but the lack of knowledge would be worse. And at that she closes her eyes for a moment, flicks them back open and nods slowly, holding his gaze. She may still look tired, but mostly her face is filled with a determined care, squaring herself up. It's amazing what a powerful motivator he can be. ] Yes. If you can handle it, we should.

[ For the most part, he's probably not really going to be that helpful with that; the more they continue, the more he's going to seem like he needs defending. On his own side of things, he's trying to quiet instincts telling him to look around, that he's clearly not aware enough of his surroundings because look, look what's happening. Running on full alert, even with forced calmness, isn't that different than running on slightly heightened senses, and there's an edge there between the two that he's trying not to breach, because right now he really doesn't want to actually start to become oversensitive. Right now that would be really not a great thing.

It's against his own opinion, and it's cautiously, when he starts to open it back up a little, very slowly and very wary of any change in her... feeling. He understands not wanting to hurt the person you care about - it's why he doesn't want to leave the connection so fully present in the first place, but half of the point of this is giving her the control, and as difficult as things are on both sides, he figures that the math adds up to 'try and make things easier at all' in the long run.

That doesn't mean there aren't a couple of deep breaths in the meantime though. ] Yeah. At least, I can - probably at least one more. Probably.

[ It's okay, she'll figure out how to handle it. She's not particularly expecting help from him in this area - the logical results of them doing this are that in the short term it's not going to seem much like she's helping him at all. She'll have to overrule that on her self, and she can, but him in distress still pulls on her instincts.

But she breathes out in relief when he opens back up, closes her eyes for a moment to readjust to being able to feel it all and yes it's a little overwhelming and it hurts, to an extent, but she needs to know or she can't do this, can't believe that she's doing it right even a little. She gives what little extra she has to trying to smooth down any attempt on his senses to revolt, lifts her hands to his face to smooth her thumbs across his cheeks. ]

Okay. Tell me when.

[ He does calm down a little more when he feels her smoothing things down, because okay, that's right, that's one of the other things that make this much safer. He doesn't need to worry about that, doesn't need to worry about what happens when they realize that's what's happening, the fallout of either.

He tenses basically right back up again when she starts to move her hands, but it's stifled, cut short enough to appreciate the warmth of her hands on his face, the feel of her nearby for this, the tangible anchoring of her physical presence between her hands and the way she dips the bed towards her just a little bit by sitting on the mattress.

One more deep breath, a sniff, exhaling through his nose faster than is actually necessary. ] I'm good.

[ She's got his back in every way she can, right now, and she thinks she's gotten good enough at bringing him down from sensory overload to not need to worry about it here. He's not going to have to deal with that on top of this if she can help it.

She nods, runs her hands through his hair and across his shoulders before meeting his eyes seriously, watching for any sign that he's not actually good, that he's just saying it. ] All right. I'm going to now. [ She doesn't leave time for him to tense up in preparation any more after that, thumbs sliding back to his neck and pressing inwards as she watches him carefully, laces the edges of their minds close in reassurance. Nothing bad is going to happen to him on her watch. She knows she shouldn't make promises, but that's one she's going to keep no matter what. ]

[ It's not quite as okay this time around. Not that it was okay the first time around, but even with the couple of minutes in between, it still feels more similar to what they would do - no air, no air, gasping for it, just enough to let the grey start fading back out of his vision, for the stars to shimmer once, twice, and then back down. Never long enough, even when they pulled him all the way back and let him fall to the ground, trying to roll to his side because he had water in his mouth still and lying on his back just meant more coughing and swallowing it. This doesn't feel that bad, but it doesn't feel as okay. It's a good thing she didn't let him have any time to react to her statement.

His hands come up a little, an aborted movement to grab her wrists and pull them away. He makes a little more noise, trying to keep it quiet for her sake but having more trouble keeping the panic down far enough to prevent them entirely. There's more wavering, but so far nothing actually to indicate she should stop. ]

[ The line of her mouth sharpens as she watches carefully, wishing this didn't require the use of her hands so she could use them to comfort him. She's tracking every flicker of his mind almost obsessively, the motion of his hands but it doesn't connect and he doesn't say no, not yet, and she has a few seconds of safety left.

She doesn't really want to. He's remembering. She's not looking directly at them but she can feel the shape of them nonetheless, and the hope is that soon those memories will lose their power but they haven't yet. ] Just a moment longer. You're okay, Tony, you're safe. You're gonna be fine.

[ He's totally not looking at her. He's looking in her direction, but he's not looking at her anymore. He's almost not looking at anything, but if one were to pick what he was looking at, it would be precisely what she knows he's looking at: memories. He's not flipping out, not remotely. In fact, he seems to sort of be checking out, not as in going unconscious but just retreating because dear god no this can't be happening again and intellectually he knows that it's not but nearly everything physical is telling him shit yes it is and that's just not a contradiction he can handle right now. His hands are sort of stuck in place where they drifted back down a little, hovering, and he looks worried, but a little less so than a few seconds ago.

Which really isn't fair, because this is to fix what's wrong with his brain, and if his brain just sort of decides it doesn't want to be present for this, then what's the point of it? This is a thought he'll have later; right now he's not thinking a whole lot - just fractures and fragments from memories. ]

[ Right now it doesn't feel much like she's helping at all, even as she tries to put her mind in between his and the memories a little, shield him from some of it. If she can dull the memories, make them less of an issue, perhaps that will help. Maybe.

She pulls her hands away a moment before the time would have been up anyways, slides them up to cradle his face and put herself directly in his field of vision, trying to keep the concern off of her face. ] Tony. Look at me. Look at me, you're here.

[ It helps a bit. It takes the edge off them, but doesn't make them look any more distant. They're far too un-dealt-with for that, but the tiny tiny buffer she creates is what helps her slip in between them just enough for him to start pulling back from them.

When she lets go though, this time he doesn't gasp so much as just take in a big breath of air, still clearly not entirely back until she's right in front of him, even then not until his eyes finally catch hers and stay there, staring but coming back, until he's blinking a lot and breaking eye contact again but at least with the benefit of being back in the right moment. And if he's a little shaky (trembly), he can't really be blamed for that, right? ]

I think that's good for today. [ And it's a good thing she's so close, or she probably wouldn't have heard it. ]

[ She nods firmly, catches her breath along with him (less because she needs to and more because she can feel his need to). ]

Yes, I think so. That's all. [ It's all she'd be willing to do today without more visible indication of progress from it, as well as she thinks from what his mind just did all he can do without his mind just separating itself from it. It does negate the point a little, even if it's a coping mechanism she recognizes intimately. ] What do you need?

A minute. [ Shaking his head a little bit. He doesn't need anything else. He doesn't want anything else. Not right now. He just wants to sit calmly and slowly be positive that he's actually where he thinks he is, because it's not like he didn't check out there a few times as well.

But she's here, and that's different. He can't replicate her calming influence or the pressure of her hands and the way his senses are quietly running background checks and ensuring that everything is being responded to appropriately through cross-checks and double checks and every kind of check they can think of. You can lie to yourself, and delude yourself, but there's only so much you can do even in that respect, because there's no way to ever account for all of the variables. ] Just one. I'll be fine, I'm good. How are you, did I ask that yet?

Okay. As many minutes as you want. [ She can't offer a great deal, but she can smooth her fingers over his cheekbones, down along his arms and to stroke the back of his hands for a moment before she cradles his face again, reassurance in any physical way she can offer it and in her mind close, seeking to put herself between him and his memories.

The checks and the cross-checks, she can't speed that up or help this place be more real to him through anything but her presence. She can only hope that helps enough. ] I'm fine, I promise, you don't need to worry about me. Just remembering where you are, okay? [ Because she knows spacing out, knows the fear that you're actually back there and not here, that your mind is just putting you somewhere better temporarily. She doesn't want him to have to think that. ]

[ It's helpful, actually, the touch. It's more helpful than it probably has any real right to be, and if he were anyone less than Tony Stark he would probably be clinging to it far more obviously than he is already. As it stands, he gradually leans into her a little more, the more he feels convinced of the setting the more he allows the setting to convince him. ]

I'm right here. [ And if that's said almost as much to convince himself as it is to convince her that he's really okay, then so be it. He can probably handle that right now, so long as some convincing actually happens. ] Right here, you're here. I'm where you are, and you're okay, you're safe, so I'm-- [ Transitive property, right? He loves that one. It lets you get away with so much. In theory. ]

[ She's been avoiding leaning in too closely with the rest of her body so that she doesn't crowd him, but when he leans into her touch she rests her forehead against his, safe and nonthreatening but still helpful, hopefully. ]

We're in the bedroom. I think JARVIS is mad at me because your vitals have been confusing him. [ She can just keep giving him information if necessary. Whatever it takes. ] You're safe, nothing's going to happen to you. I promise. [ She doesn't make promises lightly, but this one she means thoroughly. If anyone tried to make that one a lie it would not end well for them. ] I'm proud of you.

JARVIS hates the reactor for that enough as it is, he doesn't need to hate you too. [ That's more or less to JARVIS, just to ensure that there's no hate amongst his favourite things, right?

But he has to agree, his vitals are insane right now. Heart so fast it's irregular beats are noisy and the norm. Adrenaline pumping for no reason, no where to go but around and adound. Everything feels weird. Especially his mouth, his tongue, his throat, his hands; he can't.

He tunes back in enough to hear that she's proud of him, and that.

That.

Just by itself, that nearly breaks him. Actually it does break him, and where he's gone to lean into her he does so more, quietly keeping his emotions to himself as much as he can but goddamn it's like every buzzword in his life at once and he can't always handle it.

His voice is thick, deep with concern and grief, but hoarse with work and other things, and he's just going to stay where he is for a moment or two. ]Nothing happened.

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