It had only been a few hours since he discovered that the woman he shared his home with left it. Tony wasn't one to sulk, nor pout. People were entitled to make their own decisions, just as he was allowed to make his, and at that moment he was completely indifferent about her leaving. In fact, he was breathing an intoxicated sigh of relief.

Again.

He mulled over the situation, letting reality take front seat of his brain for a few long seconds before he felt the disappointment in himself set in. Tony was quick to chase it back with another drink. That beautiful thirty-eight thousand dollar coping mechanism he kept within reach so those feelings couldn't be felt. But, the more and more he drank, the more furious he got with himself and with the people who he considered his closest friends.

In drunken amusement, he couldn't help but laugh at how absurd it was that Claire, Pepper and Rhodey ever cared as much about him as they said they did. How could they love someone who didn't have the capacity to love them back? Claire found that out the hard way. Pepper only stayed because of the paycheque, he was convinced, and Rhodey.. well he was still trying to figure his intentions out. 

The humor dissipated quickly, leaving him staring down at the bottle loosely resting in his hand. The question of how much could he drink before he passed out crossed his mind, and then how much he could drink before the concentration of alcohol in his bloodstream would literally poison him. To him, he could deal with either or.

At least he could die without feeling regret.

Taking that last mouthful, Tony sat and waited for that rush of blackness to overcome him, but it never came. He waited longer, growing more infuriated with each second that passed before he hurled the empty bottle across the room and reached for the next one on his desk. The sound of glass shattering did little to persuade him from pulling the casing off and cracking the new bottle open. He was on a path of self destruction, and he didn't care how messy it was going to be when someone found him.

The second he took that first swallow from the fresh bottle, bile burned up into his throat forcing him to reel forward and grab for a wastebasket. He slid off his chair and onto his knees, vomiting forcefully into the container.

Behind the glass, Pepper watched in equal parts anger and sadness. This was the lowest she had ever seen her employer, and she couldn't help but wonder if this time would finally be his turning point. It was her decision, however, to call the only person left that could help Tony, regardless of how upset it would make him. She turned slowly and climbed the stairs to make the phone call to Rhodey.

The Lieutenant Colonel didn't take long to respond. He had known something was going on with Tony for weeks, but  when he heard the eagerness for his help in Pepper's voice, he knew where he needed to be. Though, when he arrived, he wasn't at all prepared to see his best friend in the shape he was in.

"Tony." Despite the confusion and worry, Rhodey's voice was calm. He had so many questions, but with Tony slumped over himself, he knew a couple of pots of coffee and a cold shower were in order first before he would even consider asking them. 

Trying to avoid the piles of ejected fluids on the floor, Rhodey lifted his friend up and dragged him over to the couch where he eased him down. "What are you doing to yourself, huh?"

Tony murmured incoherently, eyes closed. 

"Alright," he nodded, bringing the blanket down off the back of the couch to cover his friend with. "But I'm here until I get some answers."