Title: The Clean Slate Protocol
Characters: Tony, Pepper, JARVIS, Rhodey, Bruce
Pairings: None
Rating: All Ages
Summary: Five reflections on armor: a drabble sequence.
Notes: After watching Iron Man 3, I had to exorcise all my thoughts about the symbolism of the Iron Man suit and what it means to Tony. I hope you like it.
I. Pepper
After New York, the armor comes back in pieces.
It was never like that before. The armor flowed onto Tony like an extension of his thought. Now, as it seals his body limb by limb, it comes as a surprise; he can't give in to its embrace. It hurts me when he wants to help me, and it fails when he needs it most.
I used to think Tony put too much faith in his armor. Now, as he gazes down at his golden mask with a child's lost expression, I find myself wondering if he doesn't trust it enough.
II. JARVIS
The suits are not bodies for me, like they are for sir. They are outputs, like my voice: information translated into action.
Sir forgets, sometimes. He speaks to me as if the suit and I are one. I forgive him the lapse. Information processing and output are hopelessly muddled in humans. There is no clear line between the brain and the apparatus that outputs the brain's commands.
I cannot know what it is like to be body and mind in one flesh. Perhaps if I were made that way, I too would make armor, and treat it with this tenderness.
III. Rhodey
The Iron Patriot suit is a remarkable asset in combat. It obeys my commands almost before I make them, its every movement shaped by my muscles and voice.
But I don't talk to the voice in the suit like it's my friend. I don't see the Iron Patriot on TV and recognize myself in that metallic face, and I doubt anyone else does either.
Tony is different. Some people love him. Some people love the suit. Some love whatever it is Tony and the suit become together.
And as for Tony? I'm never sure what he sees in the mirror.
IV. Bruce
I really shouldn't see so much of myself in Tony. When he goes into the breach, he puts his armor on. When I go, I take mine off.
Still. Both of us have our armor. He creates his in a workshop with metal and fire. I build mine under my skin, with gentle smiles and a steady voice. I think he could use my kind of armor. He never seems to know how to protect himself once the suit comes off.
Maybe I don't have the temperament to listen to Tony's problems because they sound too much like my own.
V. Tony
After the fireworks show, there's one suit left.
Don't look at me like that. Pepper knows about it. She's not jealous.
So what was the point of the Clean Slate Protocol, you may ask?
I used to have - well, let's just call them bad coping strategies. Then I made suits whenever the nerves hit. Better than before, but I wasn't making suits because of what I could do with them. I made them because it kept me busy.
I'm not going to wear the suit because I need it. Next time, I'll wear it because the world needs me to.
This entry was crossposted at
http://joking.dreamwidth.org/103479.html. Comment here or there.