Stark felt terrible at the moment.
More precisely, it was the first time he truly understood what people meant when they talked about real mental illness.
In the past, he completely denied that he had an illness; it wasn't just stubbornness. Anxiety is a long torture, and it's easy to get used to being sick.
Especially for those naturally more emotional, they might have been anxious since they became conscious. Anxiety was a state of life for them, part of their personality, as natural as being born with five fingers—so it was hard for them to comprehend what it was like to be a beast with no fingers.
That's how Stark was.
He didn't suddenly become anxious one day; he had been in that state for as long as he could remember. So when others said he was sick, he genuinely found it baffling.
Even though he knew Shiller might be the best psychologist in the world, and Charles was another, and both said he had anxiety, he still didn't want to admit it.
But things were different now.
The actions of the little boy in red that night kept replaying in Stark's mind—a blood-red ocean with red fish leaping out, the rainbows cast by the spray of blood from the huge black and red whale under the light like the gates of hell.
Countless scenes played non-stop in his mind, not even allowing his thoughts to find an exit. The logical thinking and scientific inspiration he was proud of were all gone, completely blocked out by these things.
Pale, Stark braced himself with his hands on the desk, unsure of even what he was thinking. Soon enough, a knock on the door came. Looking up, he saw a familiar face.
Stark instinctively recoiled, but he didn't want to admit to his fear of Shiller. He couldn't be afraid of Shiller, because it wasn't his fault at all.
No, no, Stark was in denial. Even if Shiller's actions at that time were more brutal than the most vicious criminals in the world, fundamentally, it wasn't his fault. How could he be afraid of him?
He saw a pained expression on Shiller's face, and Stark's brain cleared a bit. He wondered, was Shiller feeling pain for my suffering?
Wait, how does he know about my suffering? Could he have traveled back in time again???
The damn liar!!!
Stark struggled to suppress the anger in his heart, rolling his eyes dramatically at Shiller as if to say, "You're still pretending?"
But it seemed Shiller was indeed serious about giving him psychological treatment. Of course, before that, as always expected and unsurprisingly, he started by asking Stark for money.
Stark's current mental state didn't really allow him to haggle with Shiller, and he had actually forgotten what they even said when they got out of prison. He was just babbling instinctively.
He had to admit, his current state made a solution urgently necessary—paying money or admitting he was sick, anything to alleviate the pain.
Stark still paid.
Who knew at this moment Shiller would look at him as if he were a lab rat and say, "I've never seen such a rare case, quite unique, very unusual..."
"Could it be unique?!" Stark roared inside, "Because this is your damn doing!!!"
Shiller took another step forward, and Stark shuddered sharply, hastily backing away. He still couldn't completely drive away the feeling of fear; it was an instinctive reaction out of his control.
"Stay away from me!" Stark wanted to blurt out instinctively, but he quickly realized that wasn't right. He absolutely couldn't show his fear to Shiller, especially since this Shiller might be the one who had traveled back in time and had the memories from that night, which would make such a display too hurtful.
So the words that reached his lips turned a corner, and Stark tried to act nonchalant, saying, "Hey, I don't like men, keep your distance!"
Shiller made a judgment about Stark, saying he wasn't as ridiculous as he appeared to be. At this point, Stark just wanted to say that Shiller had some insight, but then Shiller continued.
But he was too smart, too clever for his own good, so he was always waiting for someone to give him an answer, and that answer came from... his past.
Stark realized suddenly, wait a second, if this Shiller wasn't someone who had traveled back here, if he was normal, having grown up from childhood, did he remember that night? Did he remember the one who watched from the sidelines?
No, no matter what, for either of them, it's better not to remember that day. It's a painful memory that shouldn't be revisited by anyone; mulling over it was pointless.
"I'll give you two million US dollars to leave, and I'll tell Pepper your treatment was very effective..." Stark thought it's essential to end this topic immediately, not to bring up the past again.
"If I'm not mistaken, Miss Pepper is listening right now," Shiller replied.
Stark was caught off guard, taking a deep breath. Indeed, he had no way to explain to Pepper why his condition had suddenly worsened, and if he sent Shiller away now, Pepper would worry.
"Two million dollars, and I'll tell you a method that really works," he heard Shiller say.
Alright, that's what he wanted. Stark thought, no matter what, Shiller was the best psychologist in the world. His methods had to work.
Wait a minute, I've time-traveled here, which means Shiller must have told me how he did it. So, do I not have to pay? Could I just search my memory and find out how...?
Just as this thought crossed Stark's mind, he felt the hallucinations, which had slightly calmed, begin to churn again. This was because whenever his thoughts neared the memory module, what surfaced wasn't just his dialogue with Shiller, but rather an array of horrific images.
Forget it, better to spend the money and avoid disaster, Stark resigned himself. He wasn't going to mock the mentally ill ever again.
"Deal," he said.
"The answers you seek lie in that part of your past you loathe most. I've read in the news about the founder of Stark Group, your father..."
"Enough," Stark bellowed, then screamed in his mind, "Don't mention that past again! Want to add more hallucinations?!"
He said, trembling, "Pepper will transfer the consulting fee to you. Leave this place."
"He would have given you a second chance to live, God bless you."
As Stark watched Shiller's receding back, he slumped weakly into the chair, but his deteriorating mental state made him realize he couldn't delay any longer.
"The past... founder of Stark Group... father... Howard..."
When Natasha saw the disoriented Stark again, only a little over an hour had passed. She was surprised and said, "That was quick, don't you usually take two hours to fill out the forms?"
Stark shook his head silently. Noting his poor state of mind, Natasha refrained from joking and helped him sit down. "How did it go? What did the doctor say about treatment?"
Stark pursed his lips in silence and after a while said, "Do you know where Howard and the others are?"
"Your parents? They've invested in the space station construction. They were busy with the space station launch recently. But operations have been running smoothly lately, so they should be free now."
"Where are they now?"
Natasha made a troubled face and said, "I'm not a field agent anymore, I don't do protection work for them. If you really want to know, I can ask my colleagues for you."
"But..." Natasha drew out the word, Stark looked up at her, she sighed, and meeting his gaze, said, "They're your parents. If you want to know where they are, why not just call them?"
Stark pursed his lips and remained silent.
Natasha, somewhat helpless, said, "Alright, I'll have Coulson ask around for you."
But Stark suddenly stood up, waved his hand and said, "No, it's not necessary. I need to... I need to go home."
Natasha looked at his staggering figure with concern. As he turned the corner of the stairs, she tapped Coulson on the shoulder, "Have someone keep an eye on him. I'm afraid he might get into trouble."
Stark didn't take his car, but instead called for his Battle Armor and flew straight back to Stark Mansion.
It had been a long time since he'd been back to the old house. After Howard's death, except for once when he came back to sort through belongings, he never returned. Even that one time, when he left, it was more like fleeing in panic.
When the Battle Armor landed in the garden at the entrance of the mansion, he found it had changed dramatically from the last time he'd been there.
When he came back then, the mansion was sparse with trees, overgrown with weeds; even though the house still looked imposing, it was filled with a deadly still atmosphere that made him dare not stay long. He feared the comparatively bright colors of better times in his memory would fade away as well.
But now, the mansion seemed to have returned to his childhood, with verdant and lush summer trees, lawns of the cleanest green, and flower bushes competing in splendor. The whole world seemed enlarged, and he felt diminished within it.
As the Battle Armor receded, Stark slowly made his way to the front door. The rich hues of green gradually diluted the stark red of the hallucinations before his eyes. The memories that surfaced no longer carried a sense of cruelty and pain but were more about Howard.
In a hazy daze, he seemed to see a familiar figure and instinctively called out, "Jarvis?"
The person turned around, but it wasn't the aged butler, instead, it was another middle-aged man Stark didn't recognize. The man, shocked to see Stark, hurried over and said, "Tony? Do you remember me? I'm Thor. We met when we were kids."
Lacking the strength to delve into such distant memories, Stark was assisted by Thor who immediately came up and said, "What's wrong? Are you sick? I am Jarvis's distant nephew, we used to play together as kids."
"You are... the new butler?" Stark was completely at a loss; he scarcely remembered his own era or how old he was. He felt as if he were still in his childhood and asked, "Where's Jarvis, did he not wait for me?"
Realizing Stark may be having a mental breakdown, Thor helped him to the bedroom to lie down. After pouring him a glass of water, he asked, "Are you alright, sir? Do you know what time it is?"
"Howard..." Stark muttered suddenly, "Tell Howard not to go to Congress... tell him to come back! I want to see him. Tell him to come back!"
"Alright, sir, calm down. Mr. Howard just went fishing, he'll be back soon."
"No, tell him, call him and tell him, don't give the technology to Congress... he will die!"