Marvel 616 Fic: Undo | Chapter 3

[vail_kagami]

summary and story information this way

 
“Fuck everything.” Steve tries to spit the words out with force, but he’s tired and exhausted and the walls of the hall seem to swallow his voice up and let it run hollow and weak. Utterly unsatisfying as curses go, and it only adds to his frustration.

His scale mail is broken open over his shoulder, testament to him not paying attention. Usually, a couple of Doombots wouldn’t stand a chance of actually hitting him, but he honestly hadn’t seen that one coming. It ended up smashed in two by his shield, though, and that made up for it some.

Still, it got him, which means that on top of everything, his armor has to be fixed. And his uniform. And his arm.

The bot didn’t even cut him deep—he’s wearing mail for a reason—but the wound was made worse when Steve took the acrobatic route over roofs and walls and through back alleys back to their current HQ. And for no goddamn reason, too. The only enemies he had to escape were the reporters waiting at the edge of their battlefield, because Steve is pretty sure that not all of the questions they would have asked him were about Doombots.

Doombots in Central Park are nothing special, after all. That happens an average of one point seven times a year.

It happens decidedly too often anyway, and at the worst possible times. Of all the things that could happen to distract Steve from more important stuff, Doombots are still the least annoying variant, since they don’t take long to deal with. However.

Well. Not that it matters much, since so far their search for Tony’s attackers has gone absolutely nowhere. And while those people potentially are in possession of data that can endanger everyone, so long as they stay hidden they are no immediate threat, and no one but Steve really has them at the top of their priorities list.

Still, so long as Central Park is not under attack, they definitely rank higher than Doombots.

Maybe Steve should go to the gym. He feels like smashing something. What he really wants to do, though, is go to the tower and check on Tony, see how he’s doing for himself. He called Samson the other day, let the man explain to him in detail what they are doing, or trying to do, in order to get Tony in working condition again, but it still sounded as vague as Rhodes’ report and didn’t do much to calm Steve’s nerves on that front.

He wishes he could be there for Tony. That is what it comes down to. He loves him; isn’t that supposed to help? In a more ideal world, it would help.

And he misses him. It’s kind of ridiculous, given that they often spent months or weeks apart during the long history of their friendship, but as a matter of fact, Steve has always missed Tony when he wasn’t around for a while. It’s the little things, really. It’s not like there is a huge gaping hole inside him that only Tony’s presence can fill; instead, it’s ideas that Steve wants to share with Tony, silly remarks that slip out before Steve remembers that there’s no one present who would get them, meaningful looks he wants to exchange whenever someone says something stupid or absurd or important, only for his eyes to find nothing where Tony is supposed to be. Usually, this has made Steve a little wistful; during the worst of times it’s made him feel a little lonely. Now it’s like a painful shock whenever he finds Tony not there and remembers why. These days it feels like loss.

And he has to remind himself every time that Tony isn’t gone, that this isn’t forever, that he’s safe and looked after and recovering not five miles from here.

Maybe he could visit at night, when Tony is sleeping and won’t know he’s there. Just to make sure he’s really okay…

“You’re on TV.”

Steve flinches. It’s not that he didn’t notice, on some level, that someone had entered the room, but somehow it didn’t occur to him that they might actually address him.

He turns around to face Captain Marvel, her blonde hair falling onto her shoulders in a tangled mess after flying loops all day. Her eyebrow arches as she takes in Steve’s appearance. “And you’re bleeding,” she adds.

“It’s nothing.” The reply is automatic.

“No, obviously it’s not, if it doesn’t hinder you from somersaulting over rooftops and swinging from streetlamps in order to escape a few friendly reporters.”

Steve slumps back against the wall and resists the urge to bang his head against it. “That probably wasn’t all that smart, was it?”

“Well, we could always tell them you had to leave in a hurry to save a kitten from a tree at the other end of the city.” Steve glares at her and she lifts her hands in defense. “What? Tony once revealed Iron Man’s secret identity to the world because he had to save a dog from being run over by a car,” she reminds him.

Steve doesn’t know if this is an attempt to lighten his mood, but his lips twitch anyway remembering that particular occurrence. There are sides to Tony few people know and fewer acknowledge, and even he tends to forget them sometimes.

“Captain America’s secret identity is already known. I don’t think I can quite compete, even if kittens were involved.”

“You underestimate the power of kittens.”

“Maybe.” Steve sighs. “So what are they saying about me on TV? Were Doombots even mentioned?”

“They were mentioned briefly, as in ‘When we tried to get a statement, Captain America hurriedly fled Central Park, where he had been fighting Doombots.’ Followed by footage of you jumping buildings and speculation as to why you’re too ashamed of your relationship to talk to them about it.”

“I’m not…!” If he’s honest with himself, Steve has no right to complain about this, or to be surprised. It was obvious that the media would happily jump to this conclusion. He’s just been too preoccupied to think about the consequences of this issue much, especially since, in his opinion, it shouldn’t be an issue. “I’ve always been open about my support of equal rights, of marriage equality… How can they legitimately make that claim?”

“It’s one thing to support something while officially being part of the privileged majority and another to openly be part of those who need to be supported,” Carol points out. “And you know how the media are just waiting for idols to fall, because it makes such good stories. Without any input from you or Tony, they are making up their own shit and they take the word of anyone willing to talk about the matter, as long as what they say can be used to support their speculation. And the interviews they showed and printed about your relationship include comments of members of the LGBT community who were ecstatic at first and now think you and Tony are the worst thing to ever happen to them in the history of fighting for acceptance.”

Steve closes his eyes. He never meant to disappoint anyone, especially not on something as important as basic human rights. And Tony never even got a say in all this, they are making assumptions about his motives when he doesn’t even know what’s going on. Still…

“I’m not some figurehead,” he says. “My life is my own. I don’t live the way I do to make a statement.”

“And yet you’re making a statement, whether it’s one you mean to make or not.” Carol speaks not unkindly but without mercy. “You are a figurehead, Steve. You became one when you put on this uniform for the first time. We all did, but you more than anyone else. Captain America, Steve. People are always going to apply every decision you make to some moral code the country should follow, and assume whatever you do, you do to lead by example. That doesn’t only work when it’s convenient for you.”

Carol is right, of course, but that doesn’t mean Steve wants to hear it. A part of him has never gotten over thinking that he’s no one special and therefore what he does with his private life shouldn’t be important, but the press doesn’t work that way, and to be honest, it never did.

He’s always known being Captain America came with a price, but somehow he never thought he’d have to sacrifice being a person for it.

“You know,” he says with a bitter smile, “usually it’s Tony giving me this kind of talk.”

“I know.” Carol answers with a smile of her own. “But would he have treated you to Chinese take-out afterwards?” She gestures towards the kitchen. “Come on. You need some food if you want to battle those reporters in their own arena.”

At this point, Steve could have told her exactly what Tony had treated him to after talks like this in the more recent past, and for a moment he is tempted, just to see her face. But she is already walking away and he is hungry, so he follows in silence while trying to figure out what to say about his private life the next time someone asks.

 

-

 

The morning starts with terrible news. Samson calls and tells Jim that something has come up; he won’t be able to come for a few days at least, and Jim curses at him for a while even though he knew that it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Then he tries for a while to be quiet so he won’t wake Tony until he accepts that he’s being silly and that avoiding Tony until Samson comes back and takes care of whatever happens with Tony’s mind isn’t going to work.

When he enters the bedroom, he finds Tony writing at the desk. Jim places the glass of nutritious sludge Tony uses as a substitute for solid food beside him and tries to catch a glimpse of the notes, but they are almost completely illegible.

Tony notices, of course, and gives him a sheepish smile. “It helps, writing things down,” he explains. He looks tired but not crazy, and Jim feels like hugging him for sheer joy. Maybe there’s progress after all.

Maybe he won’t be required to do anything potentially damaging before Samson returns.

“Eat your breakfast,” he says, shoving the glass closer to Tony. “Your handwriting is an abomination.”

“There’s no computer in here. I keep wondering why Extremis doesn’t work, and then, then…” Tony trails off and raises a hand to his head, wincing in pain.

“What were you just writing?” Jim asks hurriedly, trying to distract him.

“Ah.” Tony takes a deep breath and, miraculously, manages to get a hold of himself before he can lose it completely. “I was… There’s… Kooning kept pestering me about taking over SHIELD. He was trying to blackmail me. I wasn’t interested.” His eyes go distant for a while before he looks at Jim as if he has all the answers. “I should have said yes sooner, shouldn’t I? Or… or not at all.” Now he’s distant again, lost in another memory. “So many people died while I was there. I could have,,, if I’d done things differently… Should have listened to Maya, at least Sal could have lived…”

“Tony,” Jim says firmly. He doesn’t know how Samson does it. Every time he talks to Tony, Tony gets lost. For lack of anything else he can think of, he grabs his friend’s shoulders and Tony flinches and tries to pull away, bringing up his hands to fight back.

“Tony!” This time Jim is almost yelling, but his voice seems to come through. For a moment, Tony stares at him wide-eyed. Then he takes a deep, shaking breath and slumps in his chair.

“I hate this.”

“You and me both, Boss.” Jim takes the glass again and places it into Tony’s hands. “Drink this. We need to get some food into you. And describe this room to me.”

“I can’t do both at the same time.”

“Smartass.”

Tony does as he’s told. He drinks half the glass, then looks around, focusing on one spot at a time. “It’s my bedroom in the tower. The bedsheets are blue. The bed isn’t made. Carpet, black.” He turns his attention to the desk, describes the mess of papers before him, the scratch in the wood Jim wouldn’t even have noticed on his own, the lamp, what kind of pen he’s been using, and with every word, his voice gets more steady. Afterwards he turns his attention to the window. “It’s noon, the sky is overcast. Moderate traffic from what I can tell. About a mile from here, a police car is racing down the street.” He frowns. “And another one, going in the same direction.” When he stands and walks over to the window to have a better view, Jim follows. Together they make out the helicopter as it shows up, and the humanoid shape soaring through the air. It’s too far away to tell who it is, but Captain Marvel seems a pretty good guess.

“I’ll go check this,” Jim decides and runs to see if his armor or the news have anything to say about this.

They do. There are Doombots in Central Park. Jim very nearly rolls his eyes. Well, at least it’s not anything overly dramatic. He’d have hated having to leave Tony alone.

When he comes back, Tony is still standing at the window. “Doombots in Central Park?” he guesses.

“Doombots in Central Park,” Jim confirms. “The Avengers took care of them, no big deal.”

“Hm,” Tony doesn’t avert his eyes from the world outside the window. “Did you know that the French call them fatalibots?”

Random information. And a silly word. “No, they do not.”

“Do, too.”

“No, they don’t. It sounds stupid. It sounds like a toy line.”

“It’s French for Doombot.”

“It still sounds stupid.”

“Tell the French that. Maybe they think Doombots sounds silly, too.”

“It does. But that’s what they are named.”

“Well, what do you expect of someone who calls himself Doctor Doom?” Tony stops to think. “Though to be fair, that is his name. Just like Doctor Strange is actually a doctor named Strange:” Another pause. “Do you think that some people are predestined for bullshit by their names? Because I’m seeing a pattern here.”

“Do you? What’s your conclusion then, Doctor Stark?” Jim asks with a smile.

But Tony’s shoulders slump and he looks down. “Stark is German for strong,” he explains, voice quiet, and no. No no no no no, this isn’t okay. Jim doesn’t want this moment to end.

Before he can think of anything to say, though, Tony straightens and walks out of the room. “Come on, then,” he says, his voice a little rough, but brave. “Let’s get on with this. I think I was just telling you about Stamford.” His voice wavers only a little.

“Are you sure?” Jim has to hurry to catch up with his friend and then slow down because Tony is still limping. “You don’t want to wait until Samson’s back?”

“That could be weeks. I don’t want to wait that long, because this is working.” Tony swallows dryly and doesn’t look at Jim. “I know it doesn’t always look like it, but it is. Everything we’ve talked about—every memory I’ve walked through step-by-step is making sense now. Well, more sense anyway.” Now he steals a glance at his friend and Jim is reminded that just going by the memories they already sorted through, his healthy and human appearance doesn’t make sense. “I want to get through it all as fast as possible so random shit can’t ambush me anymore and you can go home.” He looks away again. “I know I’m just boring you with stuff you already know.”

“Tone, your beds are so much better than mine,” Jim says lightly. “So’s your TV. If you want me to leave here, you’ll have to have security drag me out.” Not to mention that he didn’t know half the stuff Tony told him so far. And even the things he did know sometimes sounded quite different from Tony’s perspective.

Tony has barely sat down on the couch when the video phone beeps. Both Jim and Tony jump, startled, and then Jim hurries over to it. “Don’t get up, I’ll take this,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too much like ’Let me handle your phone calls because you’re unable to do that yourself,’ since that’s exactly what this is.

And this number was blocked for everyone except a few people who know what’s going on with Tony right now and wouldn’t use it unless it’s an emergency. Jim just hopes it’s not an emergency that requires Iron Man, because that is out of the question right now.

It’s Pepper. Why would Pepper call on this phone when she could have called Jim directly? She has to know that Tony is in no condition to talk to her, let alone about emergency stuff.

He accepts the call and her face shows up. Good. So it really is Pepper and not someone else using her phone because Pepper got kidnapped or was run over by a car.

“Rhodey,” she greets him, and she looks as relieved as Jim is secretly feeling. “There you are. I was worried when you didn’t pick up your cell.”

“I… What?”

Of course Pepper would be worried. Because Jim carries that phone all the time in case someone has to contact him. Except, apparently, today, when he left it in his bedroom. And the door must have swung closed (or he closed it himself, he doesn’t even remember) and he didn’t hear it ring. And really, he just wants to bang his head against the screen until it breaks.

“Sorry, Pepper. My fault. Won’t happen again,” he promises and she frowns when she realizes that this was just him messing up. Pepper doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for shit like that. “What’s up?” he hurries to ask. “You probably didn’t just call me to see if I’m holding my phone.”

“No, I’m calling because I might need your help,” she says bluntly. “Well, Tony’s help would be perfect, but you’ll do. There’s something going on that maybe you could check out? It’s not that urgent, if you can’t leave right now,” she adds quickly. “But I don’t know who else to ask.”

“It’s fine. Shoot.” Even as he says it, Jim tries to think of an elegant way to say ‘Tony is in the next room, please don’t mention Steve or anything personally upsetting, and seriously, why did you have to call where he can hear you?’ He keeps his voice down but Tony is sitting not thirty feet away behind a door that isn’t soundproof. Chances are he can hear every word.

“There have been several attempts at hacking into Resilient’s database last week. Didn’t work, so far, and we don’t know if it’s anything serious or just some hacker deciding to try his skills on a firewall developed by Tony Stark, but they are persistent. And Cababa says he saw someone around the back door last night when he pulled an all-nighter, and it looks like someone tried to break the electronic lock.”

“So you need me to be your guard dog and beat up whoever is trying to sneak in?”

“Basically, yes.”

That sounds doable. Doable, necessary, and like a nice change from sitting here freaking out over Tony. Jim nods slowly, but says, “Anytime, Pepper, but now. I can’t leave at the moment. But tell me at once if anything else happens. Actually…” The thought comes to him suddenly but when it does it makes so much sense. “I think you should tell Ca… tell the Avengers about it. It’s probably not connected, but they can see if your hacker has anything to do with the guys who took Tony.”

Her eyes widen. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“As I said, it might not be connected at all.” Jim doesn’t want her to get her hopes up too much, but he also says it to remind himself not to get his own hopes up. “But, hey, even if it isn’t, at least there’ll be a hacker somewhere in the world who tried to break into your computers for fun and suddenly had the Avengers breathing down his neck. I wish I could be there to see it.”

Pepper tries a smile. “I’ll have them take pictures. How is To-”

She stops speaking the same moment the door behind Jim opens, and Jim thinks, No, no, you idiot, can’t you just stay where I left you and be okay?

“Tony,” Pepper finishes. “Wow. How are you? You look good.” Which is a blatant lie. Tony looks like shit to anyone but Jim, who’s been here for a while and has seen him look even worse.

“I’m fine.” The answer comes automatically, like a reflex. Jim isn’t sure Tony even heard the question. He’s pale, and trembling ever-so-slightly, even though Pepper can’t possibly see that. His good hand is clenched so tightly that his nails have to be digging into his palm; he’s trying hard to remain calm and focused and Jim would like to murder him now, the sooner the better. “You’re not… You’re okay.” It’s a statement, not a question. Jim suddenly gets why Tony felt he had to see Pepper, but he’s still pissed.

Damn Tony for always having to make things difficult for no other reason than Hey-I’m-Tony-Stark-and-I-fucking-can!

“Yes, I’m fine. We’re all okay. Don’t worry about us.” With some luck, Tony hasn’t registered anything Pepper and Jim talked about and doesn’t know there’s anything wrong at Resilient. If he even remembers what Resilient is at the moment.

“Pepper was just giving me an update on things,” Jim says, eager to end this call before it can go south. So far, Tony has seen Pepper and knows (for right this minute) that she’s fine, Pepper has seen Tony and knows that he can talk in complete sentences as long as they don’t have more than three words, and everyone is more or less reassured that the other isn’t dead or dying or completely insane. Jim is willing to take that and call it a win. “She has to get back to work, though, and we have things to do as well, so if you’ll excuse us…” he says, turning to Pepper and willing her to get it.

She does, naturally. Pepper is smart and knows how to take a hint when it’s smashed into her face with the force of a sledge hammer. “Sure, don’t let me keep you. I’ll call you if there’s anything you should know about.”

“Thanks, Pep,” Tony replies. “Say Hi to Happy when-“ He stops and his eyes go wide and haunted as he stares at Pepper, who stares back, shocked where Tony looks utterly crushed. A strangled sound escaped his throat that was maybe meant to be a word, and then Tony stumbles backwards, nearly falls, and runs out of the room faster than he should be able to.

“Oh shit.” Jim can’t help it; it has to be said. “Pepper…”

But Pepper has already cut the connection, which is alright by him, since he’s already half out the door.

Tony didn’t make it far. Jim finds him slumped behind the couch, clutching his chest and hyperventilating. He’s crying, because Jim’s day hasn’t been ruined enough yet. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers over and over, not resisting when Jim pulls him close and holds him.

“It’s okay, I know, just breathe. Pepper can take it, it’s been a while, she was just surprised.” Jim tries to calm him down but he’s not even sure that’s what Tony is talking about.

Tony is shaking apart in Jim’s hands, sobbing openly, and it doesn’t take long for Jim to realize that it’s not guilt over having said something stupid in front of Pepper and hurting her that’s hitting him so hard, but grief. Tony isn’t just remembering Happy’s death, he’s reliving it. Not just one moment at a time but all of it, at once. It explains why he’s losing hold over his emotions so completely right now. Jim wasn’t there, but he doesn’t think Tony ever grieved this openly, even in private. Knowing Tony, he never let it out like this, and Jim imagines him now, sitting alone in this room while killing one of the best friends he ever had. Because even if they never talked about it, Jim knows that’s what really happened. Life support equipment doesn’t just fail like that, and Happy wouldn’t have wanted to exist in that state. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Jim wasn’t there then, but he is now, and he won’t let Tony go through this on his own again. But as he holds his shaking friend, he once again becomes aware that it might not even matter if he’s here or not, because he wasn’t there when it happened and his presence won’t change the past, or how Tony remembers it. Maybe all he can do is sit here on the floor and feel helpless.

Eventually, though, Tony shifts and buries his face in Jim’s shoulder, and Jim strokes his back until he falls silent. This is something he can do, at least.

 

-

 

Steve is still submerged somewhere under the giant pile of take-out Carol and Clint have collected in the kitchen when his phone rings. The ID says Virginia Potts, so there’s never any thought of not picking up.

She tells him of trouble she and her co-workers have been having with someone trying to break into their facilities repeatedly and of Rhodes’ idea that it might have something to do with the men who took Tony. It seems a little far-fetched at first sight, but Steve can see where the thought is coming from. Within half an hour, he’s on his way to Seattle.

Fortunately, he’s still in uniform. Unfortunately, his uniform still needs mending. Carol took care of the cut in his shoulder before making him eat, at least, so there’s no risk of him bleeding on the upholstery. And he’s healing fast. Unfortunately, the bloodstains on his clothes are entirely unimpressed by that.

Accordingly, Pepper gives him a shocked look when he jumps out of the Quinjet and he has to spend a few minutes assuring her that he’s really fine, not just the Tony kind of fine. “What about you, though?” he asks as she’s leading him into her office. “You look a little unwell.”

“I’m not. It’s just.” She makes a vague gesture. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

Steve nods wordlessly but she’s not even looking at him. At her desk, she hands him a couple of high-quality photos of the outside of the building. “These are stills from the security cameras,” she tells him. “I can show you the videos later, though they don’t show much more.”

“’Much more’? These don’t show anything-” Steve stops and takes a closer look. At first glance, the picture he’s holding just shows the dimly illuminated façade of the building they are in, a couple of bushes and part of a walkway, but the longer he looks at it, the better he can see that in one place, the lines are blurred ever-so-slightly. In one spot it looks like there’s grass growing at the edge of the walkway, and that’s what got his attention in the first place, as it seems out of place on the very well-kept ground. Upon closer look, it seems more like the tiles are overlapping with the lawn.

“You have good eyes,” Pepper notes.

“Comes with the serum,” Steve says absentmindedly. “Looks like some kind of cloaking technology to me.”

“That’s what we think as well. It’s very hard to make out on the pictures or on film. We would have missed it if my co-worker hadn’t noticed someone outside the other night. He said he saw a shadow moving over the lawn, so the cloaking isn’t that good to the naked eye, but it’s very effective on camera.”

“What about infrared, motion sensors, the like?”

“Didn’t pick up anything. And there was no alarm even when whoever came here tried to hack the door lock and failed.” Pepper shakes her head in frustration. “To be honest, it’s freaking me out a little. Now, failed breaking-and-entering isn’t exactly Avengers business, and it’s not like we’re helpless here. In fact, I think Cabe might murder me when she hears I called you. But whoever is doing this, they have great equipment, and they know how to handle our security even if they can’t hack it. So it doesn’t seem that far out there that the people who hacked into Tony’s brain have something to do with it, does it?” She sounds almost hopeful.

Steve is hopeful, too. If she’s right, this might be the best lead they’ve had yet. But he’s doubtful, too.

“If they hacked his brain, wouldn’t they know how to get in here?” He uses her words even though he hates talking about Tony as if he were a computer.

“Not necessarily. Tony’s got… well, you could say he firewalled his mind, and some things are better protected than others. It’s safe to assume everything connected to the Avengers or his companies’ security is pretty hard to get.”

“Are we talking about a decoding problem here or didn’t they get it in the first place?”

Pepper sighs. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Let’s hope it’s the latter, because every code can be decoded eventually. You’d have to ask Tony to be sure, but…” She shakes her head, looking into the distance. “I wouldn’t advise you to talk to Tony right now.”

“I’m banned from seeing him anyway,” Steve reminds her. But something about the way she said it tells him there’s more to it. “Pepper… Did you talk to Tony lately?”

“Briefly. I wanted to talk to Rhodey. Tony was there.” She sits down in her chair and leans back. “He’s…” She suddenly laughs, bitterly. “You know, even knowing Tony, and Iron Man, and seeing him struggle and fail over and over, I used to think being a superhero means you can protect the ones you love. And then Tony built me the suit and everything was perfect for a while. I felt so strong, like I was safe for the first time ever. Like everyone was safe because I could make it so. But that’s not how it works. People you love still get hurt and you can only stand by and watch it happen.”

“And you’ll never get used to it.” Steve knows that’s probably not what she wants to hear but she’s so right with what she said and he still doesn’t understand sometimes how he can be a national icon and yet unable to protect those that matter most.

“I wish I could hate him,” she suddenly says, taking him by surprise. “He’s put me through so much and I… I used to be so angry, and right now I wish I still was. But he’s so pathetically hurt and he’s trying and… The thing is, however badly I am hurt, Tony is hurt worse, so I can’t even be mad at him without feeling guilty. And I don’t want to be mad at him because this isn’t even his fault, except it is, and it would be easier to blame him. I am hurt and I want to be angry at Tony because it would help me feel better. But he doesn’t even give me that.” She stops and covers her face with her hand. “God, that makes me sound like a horrible person.”

“It makes you sound like a person.” Steve places a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We all feel like that sometimes.”

“Liar.” She gives him a shaky smile. “I bet Captain America doesn’t even know what it means to be that petty.”

“You know, one of the reasons why I love Tony is because he never forgets that I am human.”

“I guess.” Pepper rubs a hand over her eyes, though as far as Steve can tell, she hasn’t been crying. “He’s like that.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, nothing, really. He looked… Well, you know how he looks right now.”

“I don’t,” Steve admits. “I haven’t been able to see him in over a week. I only get the reports from Rhodes and Doctor Samson ever now and then. When I’m asking. I don’t know how he’s doing.”

“Really?” She sounds honestly surprised, as if she never considered that being banned from being in Tony’s presence actually meant not being able to be with him. “That must be hard.”

And somehow, she’s the first one who acknowledged that. “Yes, it is. I want to be there for him and I can’t. Superhero or not.” He gives her a crooked smile.

“Okay, then.” She points to the pictures, getting back to business. “Here’s something you can do.”

“I’ll want to look at those tapes. When did this happen?”

“Last week. We found these distortions on the tapes four nights in a row when we checked, but nothing since Sunday. It seems after they were spotted by Tim, they didn’t dare coming back. Maybe they gave up.”

“If it’s really the ones who kidnapped Tony, beat him half-dead and broke his mind, they certainly didn’t give up just because someone saw a shadow. But if they’re not in a hurry, they might stay away until everyone’s calmed down and you don’t expect them anymore.”

“That makes me feel much better.”

“If this is really someone dangerous, we’ll get them,” Steve assures her.

“And if they don’t have anything to do with the guys you’re looking for?”

“Then we’ll still get them.” Steve tries to make his grin look more convincing. “It has to have some benefits to have connections to the Avengers, right?”

“It would be a nice change, in any case,” Pepper retorts dryly.

“All the more important to help, then.” Steve looks down at her notes and frowns. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with the computer hacking though.”

Pepper snorts. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Tony is not the only one connected to this company who knows how to write computer code.”

Steve thinks about Resilient’s ambitions to revolutionize the idea of data networks and has to admit that she has a point.

“Is there some place where I can work?” he asks her. “I’d like to have a better look at all this stuff, and I might call a few other Avengers over if it looks promising.”

“You can take Tony’s old office. We‘re not currently using it.”

“That’s… fine. Thank you.” If Pepper noticed his second’s hesitation, she kindly doesn’t comment on it.

 

-

 

Tony closes his eyes and balls his broken hand into a fist where Rhodey can’t see it. It hurts and that’s good. He focuses on the pain and then he focuses on the memory and on the sound of his own voice.

“What happened next?” Jim asks when he’s been silent for a minute, gently prompting him to go on and not linger in one moment for too long.

“Cloak teleports us back outside. All of us. We come out in the sky above the city. First priority is to keep everyone from falling to their death.” Tony remembers the sudden shock of falling, firing up his repulsor boots within a second and aiming for the nearest person that was falling freely, not caring who it was. He’s convinced, right up until the end, that they can’t make it, that unprepared as they were the few fliers they have won’t be able to get everyone in time. When he looks around afterwards, it’s with dread and fear for the life of anyone he can’t make out immediately in the chaos.

He hates himself a lot of things, more than he could list, but he can’t hate himself for the relief he feels when he finds Steve.

“I thin- I thought we’d have to fight now.” He doesn’t even know if his voice is loud enough to be heard. “I knew I could beat him. I knew I would have to hurt him because he wouldn’t give up while he could still fight, but I was willing to do it. I was willing to do it.” He’s done it before. And it’s better than the alternative, it’s what he has to do even if he won’t forgive himself for it, Steve can take it, Tony knows how to injure without causing permanent harm, he can do this, he has to…

“Tony. Breathe.”

Rhodey’s voice barely manages to find its way into Tony’s awareness but his hand, closing around Tony’s, warm and real, does. (steve’s hand is cold as ice and completely limp and he’s lying on a metal table with bullet holes in his chest and Tony never wanted this never wanted this doesn’t understand why he’s still alive) Tony’s other hand closes tighter, so tightly he thinks he feels something shift inside and the pain grounds him, as it should.

“Maybe we should stop here.”

It takes him a moment to understand the words, with the city on fire around him and his armor useless and knowing what will come, what will happen now and absurdly, absurdly hoping it will be different. “I’m ready to fight Captain America but he’s prepared for this,” he says because he has to do this now or he never might. “Vision disables my armor so I can’t do anything.” Steve attacks and he doesn’t stop even though Tony can’t fight back. Even when Tony’s armor is so damaged that he wouldn’t be a threat when it came online again. Even when it breaks, when the next blow could kill him. Tony knew where this was going when it started and he despises himself because after everything he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made and forced other people to make in the name of the lesser evil, all he feels now, at the prospect of death and the things that might happen when he’s no longer around to make sure those sacrifices and betrayals were not in vain, is a wild and desperate hope.

He hears his own voice, unnaturally loud over the noise of the battle around them, doesn’t know if he’s still talking to Rhodey (to himself). Maybe the grip around his hand gets tighter. All Tony knows is that look on Steve’s face that tells him Steve wants him dead, that right here and right now he wants nothing more than to end Tony Stark’s pathetic life (he’s seen that look before) and he doesn’t want to keep on living in a world where Steve hates him this much.

But the world isn’t that kind to him, and why would it be? Suddenly there are people, normal people, the people they swore to protect, who went completely unacknowledged in their fighting and then are just there, all over Steve, dragging him away. Tony wants to tell them not to bother (he wants to yell at them, ‘Stop, what are you doing?’), warn them they might get hurt. Steve, he’s distantly aware, tells them to let him go, he doesn’t want to hurt them. Tony might have laughed if he remembered how.

And then it’s over. Just like that. The sudden stop to all the madness is like a vacuum sucking in the world and Tony feels like falling even as he’s dragged to his feet. His throat hurts and he can’t breathe. He’s crying and it’s a long time before he realizes it, because he didn’t cry that day. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t even wipe the blood off his face.

For so long afterwards, he’s just numb. It never feels like victory.

And Tony thinks that he would like to die now. Or crawl into a hole and never come out. To never again face the world and other people or any other thing that happened in his life because this wasn’t the worst. Instead, after a very long time of silence, he opens his mouth and continues talking. He can’t stop now. Not because he doesn’t think he can start again if he does (he can’t) but because he needs the continuity. He can’t let his mind jump ahead and kill him.

So he pushes his way down memory lane, forcefully, with Rhodey holding his hand.

chapter 4