Chapter 7: Testing Boundaries Interrupted
Tony leaned against the pillows, now more comfortable in his own skin—though "comfortable" was a stretch when you had a dark matter entity sharing your brain. He stretched his fingers, marveling at the newfound clarity in his thoughts. Words came easier, concepts formed faster, and patterns he would have missed before now felt obvious.
"All right, Roomie," Tony began, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Let's see what else you've got. I don't want to just talk feelings all day."
Proceed, Roomie's hum replied, calm and steady.
Tony sat up straighter. "Let's test this linguistic upgrade you've apparently gifted me. Spanish. ¿Cómo está mi habilidad ahora? Did I get that right?"
Your Spanish pronunciation is 98% accurate. Grammar requires minor refinement. Roomie's tone shifted slightly, the closest it could get to encouragement. Say it again. Adjust vowel length.
Tony repeated the phrase, this time effortlessly adjusting his inflection. "Whoa. Okay, that felt... weirdly easy. How about Korean? Haven't used it much since my Marine days. Annyeonghaseyo?"
Improvement noted. Neural pathways associated with linguistic recall have been enhanced. Try this: Roomie supplied a phrase Tony hadn't consciously known, and he repeated it aloud flawlessly. "Jal jinaess-eoyo."
"Dang," Tony muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I feel like a walking Google Translate."
Your abilities are rudimentary compared to mine, Roomie quipped, the hum vibrating faintly. But acceptable for your species.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Roomie."
Before Tony could push the test further, the door creaked open, and Jay stepped inside. Her face lit up briefly at the sight of him awake, but it quickly gave way to worry. Her hair was pulled back into a hasty ponytail, and her slightly crooked nose was red, likely from crying. She carried a paper bag that smelled faintly of food but didn't seem to notice it as she hurried to his bedside.
"Tony," she breathed, setting the bag down on the small table. She grabbed his hand, her grip firm, as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. "You're awake. I was so scared."
Tony blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Jay, hey. I'm fine now, really."
Jay wasn't having it. "You're fine? You collapsed on the beach, bled all over the place, and ended up in the ER. That's not fine, Tony. What if—" Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath. "What if you hadn't made it? What if I got there too late? What if—"
"Hey, hey, shhh," Tony interrupted, sitting up further and reaching out to pull her into a hug. She melted against him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. "I'm okay. I'm right here."
He held her like that, letting her cry quietly into his shoulder. It was longer than a prudent hug, but Tony didn't care. Feeling her warmth, the subtle way she clung to him, grounded him in a way that even his enhanced mind couldn't fully explain.
As Tony sat up in the hospital bed, trying his best to project an aura of casual wellness, Jay's eyes narrowed dangerously. She folded her arms across her chest, her dimples disappearing into a tight, skeptical expression. Her gaze darted from the heart monitor to Tony's overly relaxed posture, then back to his face.
"Tony," she said slowly, her tone warning, "you almost died. Twice. You don't just get to waltz out of here because you feel fine. That's not how this works."
Tony raised his hands defensively. "Jay, I'm telling you, I'm fine. Look—" He gestured to himself, then flexed his arms for effect. "See? No damage, no lingering problems. Just good ol' Tony, back in action."
Jay's eyes widened in exasperation, her voice rising a notch. "Good ol' Tony? Back in action? You flatlined, Tony! That's not a little thing. That's not something you just bounce back from overnight!"
Tony winced but kept his grin plastered on. "Yeah, well, I've always been a quick healer. You know me."
Jay threw up her hands. "No! I don't 'know' anything about why this happened, why your heart stopped, or why you're acting like this is no big deal!"
In the background of Tony's mind, Roomie's hum flared briefly, analyzing her words. Elevated vocal pitch. Accelerated breathing. Likely emotions: frustration and concern. Predicted reaction: heightened anger.
Tony mentally shot back at Roomie, Thanks for the running commentary, Nostradamus.
Roomie, unbothered, added, Response strategies include reassurance, acknowledgment, and physical comfort. Suggest avoiding further humor to prevent escalation.
Ignoring Roomie's unsolicited advice, Tony softened his tone and leaned forward. "Jay, come on. I know you're worried. I get it. But I really do feel okay. Better than okay, actually."
Jay's glare didn't falter. She stabbed a finger in his direction. "You're not a doctor, Tony. You don't get to 'feel okay' your way out of this. Do you even know what caused it? Or how to stop it from happening again?"
As Jay continued, Roomie offered its own internal commentary, broadcasting directly into Tony's mind. Subject: Female companion. Emotional state: escalating. Likely motivations: protective instincts, fear of loss. Recommended action: admit fault.
Tony clenched his jaw slightly, muttering under his breath, "You're not helping, Roomie."
Jay's eyes narrowed further. "What was that?"
"Nothing!" Tony said quickly, plastering on another grin. "Just... thinking aloud."
Roomie interjected again. Prediction: Current trajectory will result in further conflict. Alternative: Perform physical gesture of reassurance.
Tony ignored the suggestion but felt a pang of guilt as he caught the sheen of unshed tears in Jay's eyes. That guilt deepened as Roomie's next thought came through, unprompted: Emotional distress detected. Hypothesis: Female companion values host's presence significantly.
"Yeah, I noticed that too," Tony muttered softly, holding back his own tears of happiness.
Finally, Tony reached out and took Jay's hand, pulling her closer. "Jay," he said softly, his voice cutting through her rising emotions. "I'm here. I'm okay. And I promise, I'll figure out what's going on. I'll follow up with the VA, do the tests, whatever they want."
Jay hesitated, her body still tense. "You swear?"
"I swear," he said firmly, his fingers tightening around hers. He added, with a wry smile, "Even if they tell me I can't eat spicy wings for a while, I'll listen."
That earned him a faint laugh, though her eyes were still suspiciously watery. "You'd better," she murmured, her voice wavering. "Because if you ever scare me like that again, I'm—" She cut herself off, choking on the words.
Tony pulled her into another hug, this one long and grounding. He held her tightly, resting his chin on her head, not caring if it was longer than prudent or appropriate. "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly. "I promise."
In the background, Roomie hummed quietly, processing the interaction. Prolonged physical contact. Low vocal tone. High probability of romantic reconciliation. Anticipated response: reciprocal affection.
Tony bit back a laugh as Jay sighed heavily against his shoulder, muttering, "You're such an idiot sometimes."
Roomie's hum grew faintly puzzled. Unanticipated reaction. Statement: insult? Conflicting with observed context.
Tony smirked, thinking inwardly, Yeah, welcome to humanity, Roomie. Not everything's a textbook.
After a moment, Jay pulled back, wiping her eyes and smoothing her hair. "Okay," she said, her voice steadier. "But you're not going anywhere without a doctor signing off. And no arguing about it."
"Deal," Tony said, though his voice carried the barest hint of mischief.
He pressed the call button for the nurse, who arrived with the doctor in tow, both wearing concerned expressions. The doctor glanced at the monitors and then at Tony. "Is everything all right? You didn't have another incident, did you?"
"Nope," Tony said cheerfully. "Feeling great. Just figured it's time to talk about getting out of here. I'm wasting bed space, right?"
The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Mr. Williams, we've discussed this. You need observation."
Tony sighed, mentally preparing for another round of persuasion—and another stream of unsolicited advice from Roomie.