Even the Light is an Illusion

by Mizzy

Summary:

Death threats are an unfortunate side-effect of being Tony Stark, so he's learned to ignore them. The problem is, when someone really wants you dead, hiding your head in the sand just kinda exposes your ass.

But it's not just Tony's behind on the line. Whoever wants him dead wants him to suffer first, and they're willing to do anything to make that happen. Tony knows there's only one way out. To save Steve, the Avengers, and the general public, Tony has to die. Of course, death isn't always the end, and Tony does what any other self-disrespecting scientist would do: he finds a way to fake his death and avenge his own murder.

The trouble is, terrible decisions usually have a terrible price, and this one is no different. Tony has a chance to save the day, but the cost may be more than Tony was ever expecting to pay…

Notes:

Thank you to: Petite-Madame, Immoral-Crow, Theron09, TresMaxwell and Kiyala. ♥

Warning: faked major character death, mass public death, minor character death.

Written in MCU, but with borrowed elements from 616 (and a little 13326); in particular, some of the comicverse Avengers, and some of Fraction's Invincible Iron Man.

THE ART! ♥ - please do check out the art. It's unbelievably gorgeous. ♥

Podfic now available: read by Liannabob, available here.

Chapter 1

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part i

 

&

 

---

Even the light is an illusion,
for when it stops I'll cease to be.
Then, in the darkness for countless hours,
I can move around freely
exactly as how you like.
Kanon Wakeshima - Maboroshi

---

Sometimes Tony regrets being under constant surveillance from his own computer systems. Especially when there are at least seven different individuals under his roof who can effortlessly hack into his CCTV banks and retrieve embarrassing footage.

Such as Tony flailing and falling from his chair in surprise when his lab suddenly floods with light.

Tony lets out a huff and starts to push himself up. He learned from an early age how not to show emotion (emotions are a weakness, and the press can smell weakness on you, my boy) so at least he doesn't have to deal with the embarrassment of blushing in shame in front of Captain America.

Or in front of Steve Rogers, because Steve's out of uniform and is finicky with his identity like that. Tony absent-mindedly touches the chest plate of his arc reactor as he orients himself back onto his chair. Some superheroes aren't quite as entwined with their real selves as Tony is. He and the suit really are one. It's not like Tony can fly around and suddenly think of himself as Iron Man. He's just Tony.

"Did you just try and kill me?" Tony asks Steve, smoothing his t-shirt down and pushing around his tools like he's doing something important with them.

"With a lightswitch?" Steve asks, detaching himself from the doorway and walking over to Tony's workstation. "I wouldn't be that subtle."

Tony smirks. Once upon a time, Steve and he were awfully polite, all mindless phatic communion and hellos and how are yous and Mr. Starks and Captain. That was before they found out how to work with each other. How to use their natural clash of approaches as a sounding board to find the strengths and weakness in each other's plans, rather than as an obstacle in their way.

Now they don't bother with small talk or social constructs. Their conversations always seem to begin halfway through.

Also, Steve's been spending way too much time with Pepper for Tony's comfort. That zinger was nearly spot-on Pepper-perfect.

"You'd punch me in the face," Tony says, holding onto two of the nearest pieces of equipment, and looking up at Steve. "Or shoot me."

"I might throw a tank at you," Steve says, looming over Tony's desk a little. "You'd want the press to have something interesting to write about in your obituary, right?"

"Because I'm so very bland," Tony says. "And don't tell me you're planning to type that obituary up yourself?"

"I can type," Steve says, but he doesn't sound too convinced. He straightens, leaning back and shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks around the blueprints, spread around Tony's desk in a complete circle, and changes the subject. "More Iron Man schematics?" He tilts his head and starts to walk around the perimeter of the scans. "Didn't you upgrade the mark fourteen last month?"

Tony resists the urge to touch the piece of paper in his pocket. Steve pauses, one eyebrow twitching. Tony glares at him challengingly for a moment, and then shrugs, turning to his mess of tools, starting to throw them into the nearest drawer haphazardly. "The flight stabilizers, yes," Tony agrees. "But I thought I'd throw in a few special features. You know me. Never happy with the simple model."

"Sometimes simple is best," Steve says.

Tony shoves his drawer shut and idly spins on his wheeled chair. "You came into the wrong room. Logan's room is four floors up. He'll appreciate that lesson completely. Tailor-made for him, right?"

Steve rolls his eyes, and prods at one of Tony's displays. He still jabs at them a little too hard, like he actually has to make contact with the light, but Tony programmed JARVIS to compensate for it years ago. "You need a double spray of this flame-retardant doo-hickey stuff on your left flank," Steve says. "You favor your right side. You keep leaving yourself exposed there."

"I do?" Tony asks, automatically, because every flaw is always going to be something he needs to prod at. JARVIS obligingly plays a quick montage of scenes from some of their recent battles illustrating Steve's point. Tony makes a mental note to tone down JARVIS' pre-emptive intuitive display parameters, because he could almost swear JARVIS takes way too much glee in anything that can be used against him. "I do," he agrees. He stretches, and freezes awkwardly, wondering if he's favoring his right side now.

"You're fine," Steve says.

"Stop reading my mind," Tony says. "It's creepy enough when that Professor guy at the mutant institute does it."

"Charles," Steve says, sounding remarkably patient considering he has to do this every time they talk about the X-Men. "His name is Charles Xavier. You can't just keep pitching a fit about him because you're not the only rich superhero around."

"Rich shmich," Tony mutters, "he barely scrapes the top five hundred of this continent. I'm in the top three of the whole world."

"But not the top," Steve says, and smiles with his perfect, even teeth.

Tony narrows his eyes, and tries valiantly to remember that's not a come-on when it comes from Steve. "What did I tell you about coming in my lab just to bitch at me?"

"That I should do it every day?" Steve says, innocently.

Tony gives him a sour look. "Seriously, first you come in and blind me with my own lighting, and then you stand there and throw insult after insult at me? You'd better be inviting me upstairs for ice cream."

"Breakfast, actually." Steve pauses, like he's thinking about it. "Maybe after you've had a shower."

"Shut up, I smell like strawberries and cream at all times," Tony says, pushing himself to his feet and realizing it's not the embarrassing tumble from his seat that's wholly to blame for his aching muscles. Just how long has he been sat here working? Tony makes a mental note not to ask JARVIS now. JARVIS would be way too delighted to tell Tony in front of Steve. "It's in my official bio on the Stark Industries website and the internet never lies," he adds, pushing his chair under his desk.

"Stop trying to make me believe that," Steve says. "It was very confusing when Clint linked me to reddit for the first time."

"That particular event," Tony says, "is traumatic whatever your set of beliefs." He tries to yawn as subtly as he can, but Steve throws him an evil expression, and as he's busted anyway, Tony rubs sleepily at his eyes. "JARVIS," Tony says, "commence the latest batch of alterations. Make sure to incorporate Cap's suggestion."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS intones. "Confirming a double spray of flame-retardant doo-hickey stuff for the mark fourteen's left flank."

Steve frowns as Tony joins him, and they head towards the door. "Has Logan been into JARVIS' sarcasm sub-routines again?"

Tony scratches his head. "I think it was Spider-Man, actually. Or that new biochemist intern down in R&D, what's his name?"

"Peter Parker," Steve says. "As you well know. He's your favorite."

"Hm," Tony hums, noncommittally. "Him." Tony pauses at the door. "Can I have ice-cream for breakfast?"

"Maybe if you eat your greens," Steve jokes.

"Aw, mom," Tony says. "And who eats green things for breakfast, anyway?"

Steve pauses in the doorway and gives one of his oh, Tony looks. Tony rocks on his heels.

"I might go and have that shower after all?" Tony says.

Steve nods, and taps the doorframe. "Sure. But if you're not up and eating actual food within the next half an hour, I'm sending Cage down to get you out, and he takes Tony-fetching duty with much less panache than I do."

Tony full-body shudders at the mental image of Luke Cage yanking him from the shower for Steve's amusement, and Steve grins, shaking his head. "I'll be there," Tony promises, smiling his thanks at Steve.

Steve nods, and he turns and leaves up the stairs.

Tony's smile fades as soon as Steve's out of sight, and he heads towards the bathroom built onto his lab, automatically reaching for the piece of paper in his pocket as he goes. He keeps it in his palm until he can get behind the door and lock it, and he stares down at it for a long minute.

I WILL DESTROY YOU, AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT.

Tony allows himself a minute and just that minute, and then he slowly and methodically rips the paper up into small pieces before running it under a faucet and dissolving the paper so it makes a thick ball of papier-mâché before bending down and pushing it up into a nook under his sink which will never be excavated in this century. A nook which already has eight similar balls of paper. Each one untraceable. Each one undeniably creepy.

He straightens and strips, JARVIS automatically starting the water as he steps into his shower. Tony leans against the wall, palms flat against the tiles, and tries his best not to panic. He's gotten plenty of death threats before. This one is no different.

Apart from the fact the notes are getting to him in places impossible for anyone but a Stark employee or an Avenger to reach.

Tony manually shuts the water off, and stands there for a while. For a moment he focuses on listening to water run from his body, dripping onto the floor and his shadow, but it's not enough for him to focus on. All he can hear are his own thoughts. One stands out clear from all the worry and stress: there's never a distraction when he needs one.

---

Tony dries himself, re-dresses in clothes that can't get up from the bathroom floor and walk on their own, heads up the stairs, and finds a bowl of melon left out on the kitchen counter for him. It has a note stuck to the side of it: TONY'S SORTA-GREEN THINGS FOR BREAKFAST. Underneath that is a tiny doodle of Tony eating it with a scowl on his face, and underneath that is a tinier note: I HID THE ICE-CREAM IN THE BAG OF SWEETCORN. Sometimes Tony thinks that sharing a mansion with a whole bunch of crazy people is not always the sanest plan.

He's eaten most of the melon by the time there finally is a distraction.

It's mostly too late to raise Tony's mood—Steve's little post-it notes are always oddly cheering, and Tony has a scrapbook full of them now — but a distraction is a distraction. He hurtles downstairs to get the mark fourteen, misses the quinjet, so has to fly alongside it, giving its pilot the finger through the window.

Logan just smirks. Flipping the bird is like saying good morning to the X-Man.

As the jet lands, Tony tilts his head in welcome to the Avengers coming out of the jet. Once upon a time, Tony would have jetted up into the air, already scoping out the threats — but compromise is one of Tony's best skills, something which irks Steve on occasion. Tony can understand why Steve gets peeved about it, because Steve is all about committing and going gung-ho based on your principals and sticking to them at all times. Tony's aware that compromise is necessary, that some things are going to happen whether you want them to or not, and sometimes compromising is the best thing you can do to get... Well, it might not be the best possible outcome, but the outcome with the least collateral damage regardless.

Despite his muttering on the subject, Steve still expects Tony to compromise and listen to commands. Tony sometimes bridles at it, but he accepts it. Steve's the leader, and for a team to be effective, they have to trust their leader.

Tony trusts Steve. He just doesn't always fully trust the enemy to play by the rules of warfare that Steve expects them to.

As Steve comes out of the jet, fully suited, his shield already on his arm, Tony falls in step next to him.

"What have we got, Cap?" Tony asks, although JARVIS is already collating some of the data. He can make out at least four heat sources coming their way, their flight paths indicating they mean to travel over where the quinjet is landed.

"SHIELD picked up on a coded message," Steve says briskly. "The Mandarin is planning on making a hit on the summit that's going on in the city in approximately ten minutes. Your systems calculated if we intercept them here, we can stop them going much farther."

Tony nods. "What's the plan?"

"You, Hawkeye and Ms. Marvel bring them down to a level where we can take care of them. Jan, I need you back in the perimeter in case any of them slip by the front line. Sting 'em down if you can, squash them if you have to." He nods at the four of them. "Everyone got their comms switched on?"

"Damn," Spider-Man quips, "these things turn off? Gee, sorry for the soundtrack of the hot date I was on last night if anyone was listening in."

"I'm sure you and your hand had a fabulous time," Logan drawls.

"Need a lift up that tree, birdbrain?" Tony asks Clint. Clint gives him a withering look from behind his outlandishly purple mask. Tony's glad his mask hides his smirks — he still remembers Clint's howl of outrage when Fury gave him his new suit. Hawkeye is metaphorical. My face looks like I'm a giant purple bird. There's something to be said for being allowed to design your own suit. Not like Fury could stop me, Tony thinks, and takes up to the sky.

"Whoever takes down two," Carol cries, her cape swirling dramatically behind her, "gets bought dinner by the losers."

"Whoo," Clint calls through the comm, "threesome dinner date with Ms. Marvel."

"Don't let Mockingbird hear you say that," Tony tells him. He adjusts his flight path and JARVIS scans the incoming threats. "The one on the far right is mine. He's lit up like a Christmas Tree."

The extra heat suggests the villain Tony's targeting has some sort of technological augmentation, if it's not yet another Iron Man-wannabe, so it makes sense for him to take out that one.

"Ms. Marvel, I'm getting tinsel-y feelings from the second one on the left," Spider-Man says through the comms. "Sorry, I mean tingles."

"I'm copying that sensation," Carol says. "Tingles all the way."

"The first person to sing a Christmas Carol gets to say hi to my claws," Logan says, grouchily.

"I hate to agree with Wolverine, but I may join in on that brand of violence — I get uncomfortable when people sing me," Carol says.

"Try not to goof around on the comm line, kids," Steve's voice floats authoritatively. "Incoming!"

Tony focuses on his own enemy. As much as his nature means he much prefers to work on his own, Tony does like knowing his team has his back, so he can concentrate fully on pummeling his quarry to the ground. JARVIS brings him up an enhanced picture of the individual barreling in his direction, trailing energy emissions all over the place. Clearly whoever's tried to steal his tech this time hasn't conquered the transit fuel filter problem. Tony swallows the sigh when JARVIS identifies his foe.

"Looks like the Marauder's added a few more toys to his arsenal," he says, through his comm line. "JARVIS is registering all the incoming as thugs for hire."

"We'll subdue now, investigate the hirer later," Steve commands. "Hopefully he hired them through a third party. The more people the Mandarin employs, the better chance we have of finding him."

"Alas, he likes to do his own dirty work," Tony mutters. "Engaging the Marauder."

"Be a darling and send him my way," Logan says. "Us wrist-fighters should stick together."

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Spider-Man coos.

"Leave some for me, too," Cage grumbles over the line. "I haven't gotten to punch anything big for a while and I'd rather not punch any of you."

"That's sweet," Jan says, somewhat approvingly. "I appreciate working with colleagues who don't want to punch other colleagues."

"I'd rather not punch any of you," Cage says. "Doesn't mean I won't."

"Relax," Carol sing-songs, "we'll send you some scraps."

"Better be more than scraps," Logan grumbles.

"I don't know," Clint says, "I do like to show off that I can shoot tiny targets as well as big ones."

"Hawk, if there's anything left after I've said hello," Tony tells them, "you can show off as much as you like."

"Just get him on the ground," Steve orders, cutting straight through all the banter like a knife.

Tony rolls his eyes, and is glad no one can see him doing it. Masks really do have their advantages sometimes.

Especially when they protect his face from crazy heat, because the Marauder seems to have added a flame-thrower to his inbuilt arsenal to accompany the rocket pack helping him fly. Taking the Marauder down to the ground is embarrassingly easy — the idiot is basically wearing his jetpack as if it's a parachute. Tony moves as if he's about to tackle the Marauder face on, but as soon as he comes close enough, he barrel rolls.

The Marauder falls for the feint, smashing right through the space of sky Tony's just vacated. Tony uses a few well-aimed (thanks to the advanced targeting system he's programmed JARVIS with) hand blasts to detach the jet pack from the Marauder's back. The blasts send the Marauder twisting and spinning and hurtling down to the ground, where Cap, Spider-Man, Wolverine and Cage are waiting to clean up.

Satisfied, Tony turns to where the rest of the action is, Ms. Marvel grappling with someone mid-air, Hawkeye unleashing a bolt into another from the top of the tree he picked as his vantage point, and he's about to move in on the third before Hawkeye can shoot at him too when his scanner's pick up something else on the periphery of his vision: a new energy source.

"JARVIS," Tony says, disabling his out-going comms and turning the sound down on the comm line chatter from the others, "what is that?"

"I can't get a lock, sir," JARVIS intones. "Scanners indicate it is giving out the same equivalent waste energy as the four ingrates the Avengers are currently tackling. It seems to be coming from the warehouse over there. My scans indicate it's in danger of exploding. Seventy per cent chance within the next five minutes." The warehouse zooms in to the side of Tony's vision, and zooms in even more. JARVIS automatically overlays an energy filter, and Tony can see the pulses of it rolling from the building.

"That's definitely hot," Tony says, already moving towards it. "Civilian count in the local area?"

"I'm picking up two children in front of the building. Local channels suggest they belong to the Miller family. Hacking their family computer. Remotely accessing webcam. The parents are located in the house. Sir, is it worth my time to outline the risk to your personal safety at this point?"

"Aw, JARVIS, any time I hear your dulcet tones could never be considered a waste of time," Tony tells him, and burns faster towards the warehouse. True to his scans, there are two children. Two girls playing jump rope in the clear ground before its doors. When he lowers down to the ground, one of them screams. "Kids, I need you to scram back home." The girls don't make even the tiniest flicker of movement. He sighs, and powers up both palm blasters, shorting them so they spark dramatically. "Scram," he adds.

Both of the girls start screaming, and they start running in the direction of their home, one of them yelping that Iron Man's gonna eat us.

"Seriously?" Tony questions. "I guess I could flambé them pretty thoroughly with these things."

"Indeed, sir," JARVIS says. "Barbecued children for all."

Tony smirks instead of answering immediately, and the lull in sound is when he hears it. "JARVIS, did you register that? Re-route it through the filters. Enhance. Play it again for me."

Some numbers and audio wavelengths sprawl across Tony's readouts, and then JARVIS plays the sound Tony caught. "Help me! I'm in here! Is there anyone out there? Please help!"

"JARVIS, what do your scans say? Is there someone in there? More than one someone? How many potential threats?"

"Scans indicate only that energy source," JARVIS says. "The threat of an explosion has also climbed to eighty-five per cent."

"Well, if there's someone in there," Tony fires up and takes to the air, "it's not a hundred per cent. Gotta take the play." Too bad if someone wants him dead if there's a kid involved. Not that Tony would ever say that aloud — he has a rep to maintain.

"Iron Man. Where are you? The fighting's over here," Steve voice trails in over the comms. It's loud — Steve must have realized Tony had toned down his comm. Dammit. "Are you in trouble?"

Tony tuts, and turns his comm line on. "Nothing I can't handle," he tells Steve.

He hears a spluttering sound, something which is never one of Captain America's finest moments, and then Tony blasts through the front doors of the warehouse in search of whoever was calling for help.

He literally doesn't know what hits him.

---

Not until he wakes up, probably hours later based on the light in the hospital room Tony finds himself in, to Steve's angry face.

"Hnnghghghhh," Tony says eloquently to Steve. Steve's face doesn't even move, but his arms tense distinctively. Tony's in the doghouse, then. If they were married, Tony would be faceplanting the couch tonight for sure. Then he thinks over what he's just thought. Why did his brain automatically go to the thought of being married to Steve? Tony blinks, and it hurts, and he hates everything. He's been injured then, and some sort of head trauma, if his brain is going off into cloud-cuckoo fantasy land.

"In my defense," Tony says, "I didn't know the warehouse was out to kill me."

"Do you even know what you—" Steve starts.

"Broke off from the team, muted my comms, saved the lives of two girls, thought someone else was in danger, was too stupid to un-mute the comms, got blown up in the process, learned my lesson the hard way," Tony rattles off. "Although, if I'd known my head was going to feel worse than that hangover from my graduation party at MIT, I might have reconsidered my impulsive actions."

"Irresponsible—" Steve manages to get out. His chest puffs up, like it does when he's thoroughly stressed, and if Steve's hair gets any more formal, he's probably going to blow away.

Wait. Tony thinks through his last few thought processes. Huh. What medication is he even on?

"You're pretty when you're upset," Tony says, and tries to move. Nothing seems to have completely vanished from his body, apart from— Oh, wait. His dignity. He squints at Steve, who seems to be holding his breath. Did Tony just call Steve pretty? Well, Tony reflects, dizzily, it's not like it's not true... "How much morphine did they put me on?"

"A little. The doctors weren't sure how much alcohol was in your blood. When your tests came back, they gave you some more."

Tony pulls a face, and it hurts. He sidesteps Steve's pointed reference to his drinking. "What happened? Did the warehouse blow up?"

"In your face," Steve says, heatedly. "Jan used the quinjet's sensors to pull up just how much energy had been radiating from that place before you decided to step through the front door."

"I stepped?" Tony asks. "I sort of remember flying through—"

He quails when Steve's expression colors into a more murderous shade.

"Did I break anything?" Tony asks.

"Nothing apart from protocol, Mr. Stark," Agent Hill says, striding in from the doorway. She has a tablet in her hand, and Tony strains to catch a look — it's his medical records. "Your MRI came back clear. You may have a concussion, so you'll be staying in overnight for supervision. I'll assign agents to keep you awake."

"Not a chance," Tony says, and pushes his sheets away. He peeks down to see if he's dressed. A hospital gown that gapes at the back. Awesome. "I want my suit back."

"It's already back at the mansion," Steve reassures him. Tony starts to push himself up from the bed. Nothing might be broken, but he's bruised everywhere. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Discharging myself," Tony says. "Obviously."

"But—" Steve starts.

"You can do your mother hen routine just as well in the mansion as here," Tony says, succeeding in getting up and moving to the door. Agent Hill hangs back with a distinct what did I do to deserve this expression. There's a definite feel of air where his hospital gown is gaping open. Tony poses as provocatively as he can manage, turning his head over his shoulder and grinning. "Might even be better there, because I won't be half naked."

Steve makes a sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat, and keeps his gaze firmly fixed on Tony's face, the spoilsport. "I suppose. If you promise to follow doctor's orders."

"Maybe if you promise to play nurse," Tony says, and sways a little. Steve sends him a withering look. Tony shrugs. A concussion won't kill him.

Staying somewhere so unprotected might.

"Kiddo, you should have thought that before you tried to go into the warehouse with an eighty-five per cent chance of exploding," Tony tells himself.

"What did you just say?" Steve demands.

Tony internally winces. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lies. The world spins. One day, Tony thinks, he's going to freaking stay in hospital when he's supposed to. But that would just be the smart thing to do, he supposes. "Let's just get out of here," he mutters.

"Sure," Steve says, with surprising amicability. Right up until the point he draws near Tony and leans in to mutter, so Agent Hill won't hear, "the quicker we get you home, the quicker I can find out what you're hiding, Tony." Steve's face is so close. Tony tilts his chin arrogantly. "Unless you'd like to tell me outright."

"It's so good that you're gracious when you're disappointed," Tony tells him back.

"We'll see," Steve says.

No, you won't, Tony thinks, letting Steve thinks he's got this victory because it's the path of least resistance. Tony's going to do his damndest to handle this stupid death threat melodrama on his own. Steve doesn't have to know, or see, a thing at all.

Least of all how scared Tony really is.

No, Steve doesn't have to know that at all.

Chapter 2

Tony isn't as subtle as he thinks he is.

Or maybe Steve's just spent so long around him that even the smallest behavior change is brutally noticeable.

Steve can pinpoint the exact moment it started: maybe seven weeks ago. Part way through a SHIELD briefing. Tony was idly flicking through the paper minutes, calling Fury cute for facilitating Steve's even-now penchant for hard copy, and then he'd frozen, ice still, for maybe no longer than ten seconds.

It was the biggest tell in the whole world; Tony never stops moving. He's always shifting slightly in his chair, tapping a foot, rubbing his fingertips together like he's itching to be holding onto something, a tool or a pen or — Steve reflects darkly — a drink. Tony only ever stills if he's shocked, and while Steve is still constantly surprised by this decade, it takes a lot to unseat Tony Stark.

Whatever Tony saw in those meeting minutes unsettled him. Steve went over them seventeen times, even though his once-good memory has been amplified from excellent to eidetic with the super solider serum and he doesn't need to read anything more than once. There were no items that could negatively affect Tony or his company in any way.

So it had been something else. Maybe another note slipped into his minutes between the reprographics room in the helicarrier to the briefing room.

Something which had stunned Tony so much that his behavior was still ricocheting from it. Getting fixated on his upgrades was one sign. It wasn't a rare occurrence before seven weeks ago, but it wasn't such an extended occurrence. Last night (through to this morning), Tony had clocked nearly twenty hours solid. Steve should have grounded him from the fight. He resolves to be more careful next time. Tony's obviously stressing over something he can't (or won't, but that makes Steve's stomach flip miserably, and he doesn't like that sensation at all) tell Steve about, and that's huge cause for concern.

Steve feels a familiar tug of guilt. He'd known Tony was sleep deprived and distracted. He shouldn't have let him out on the field. He had told Logan to take off sharply, but it hadn't stopped Tony from following in his suit, and Steve had felt a giddy moment of satisfaction. Keep Tony close. Figure out what is bugging him. Find an unguarded moment to swoop in and interrogate him subtly.

Alas, Tony separated from them. When Steve realized, when he saw that warehouse curl up into flame, Steve felt for the most acute second that he had somehow, just instantly, lost a major organ.

Steve's not going to be happy with letting Tony out of his sight again for a little while. The threat of possible-concussion is perfect for that.

"I'm just going to see what they did to my armor," Tony says, when they get back to the mansion. He refuses to mention he's in pain, but he does let Steve take his arm to get him into the mansion and over towards the steps to the basement. "It's okay," Tony tells Steve, looking at him sternly. "I'm not going to fall asleep doing system check-ups on my armor. I'm quite attached to it. I'm thoroughly engrossed by its fate. It's not like I'm going down there to listen to Logan regale me with his infinitely interesting tales of his many conquests."

"Good," Logan says, passing them both, a half-eaten bowl of cereal in his hands even though it's dark outside now. "I'm too tired to tell you any bedtime stories."

"You're not having a bedtime," Steve tells Tony sternly. "Not until I'm positive you don't have concussion."

Tony sends him a withering look that dies when Steve raises his eyebrows. "Fine, mom. Can I go to my room?"

"Sure," Steve says, amiably. Tony grins tightly, and turns to go down his steps. He makes it down most of the way before realizing Steve is following him down.

"I can make it down steps without being babied," Tony mutters, shaking his head, wincing, and quickly going down the rest of his steps. Steve stays close behind him, and just smiles when Tony pauses again at his keypad. "You're going to shadow me? Don't you have enough to do on one of your crazy to-do lists?"

Steve flushes. Tony always mocks his lists, especially because the serum enhanced Steve's memory. Steve just likes to see things down in black and white is all. It helps him think. The serum made his brain explode with thoughts, and sometimes it helps to put them in order. Weed them out. Make sure he's not missing something. "They're not crazy, they're thorough," he tells Tony.

"They're anal and creepy."

"Well, I am a sad and lonely old man," Steve says. "Wasn't that what you called me last week?"

"Yes," Tony says, instantly changing track, "because your idea of a good television show is CSI. There are no hot nurses in CSI. And the science and technology is flawed."

"Yeah," Steve says, following Tony all the way to his desk. Tony petulantly takes the only chair, so Steve leans on the end of the desk, smiling placidly just to really wind up Tony as much as he possibly can. "And the verisimilitude of Grey's Anatomy to the real life of medical interns is so accurate."

"Okay, fine, they would have fired that idiot surgeon years ago in real life," Tony says, "and probably Doctor McSexy too. Completely unprofessional behavior."

"I hate that I even know who you mean by Doctor McSexy," Steve says.

"You're seriously going to sit here for the next six hours," Tony says, frowning at him. "What if I need the bathroom?" His gaze slides to his workshop's bathroom and Steve manages to hold back the flinch of success when Tony's gaze moves back to Steve's face with just a hint of challenge in his eyes. Aha, Steve thinks, definitely something in the bathroom he doesn't want me to see.

"You'll have to talk to me the whole time you're in there, then," Steve says, unmoving.

Tony sighs, audibly, and spins his chair to the opposite table holding the crate his suit has apparently been delivered in. "This... doesn't look like anything survived," Tony says, with a hint of disapproval. "JARVIS, kick up production of the mark fifteen."

"Already did, sir," JARVIS says, "as soon as I received the notification from Captain Rogers that you had been involved in an explosion."

"Your predictive subroutines are a complete masterpiece. JARVIS, whoever programmed that, they must be a genius of the highest order."

"As you continually tell me that you are, sir," JARVIS says, in an almost long-suffering tone. "ETA for the mark fifteen is four hours, excluding any of the modifications you're probably about to make."

"You know me so well, baby," Tony tells JARVIS. Steve badly hides a smirk — Tony flirts with anything and everyone, including his AI. One day it's going to rebound badly. Preferably a) with Steve around to see it and b) in a way Steve can fix quickly and easily.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" Steve asks, casually.

"Uh," Tony says, and Steve files that away as proof. Tony never usually hesitates. "Sure. Ignore the smell. I had burritos yesterday. And," he adds, as Steve heads over to it, "same rules apply to you. You have to talk to me while you're in there."

"Sure," Steve echoes Tony's word of agreement. "As long as you at least grunt in reply."

"I always save my best grunts for you, Captain Rogers," Tony says, throwing a mock salute and wincing.

"Get JARVIS to send for some ice for your head and for that shoulder," Steve says. "Could be some deep tissue damage there."

"Mm," Tony says, "this is why I love Grey's Anatomy. All the hot doctoring. You do make a lovely nurse, Steve." He throws a leer at Steve, who just laughs a little and shakes his head. After five years of Tony's company, the flirting rolls off him like the Hulk's attempts to walk narrow ledges.

"So I'm inside the bathroom now," Steve calls out. "Can you hear me?"

"Regrettably," Tony replies.

"So what's different between the mark fourteen and the mark fifteen?" Steve says, and starts casing the bathroom. There has to be a lose tile. Something out of place. There's tiles everywhere — floor, wall, ceiling. Steve checks the obvious hiding place first — in the water tank.

"I take it you want this in captain-dummy speak," Tony says. He has this voice he uses sometimes, like he's quoting from something, and that's the tone he's using now. Steve sighs as he finds the water tank empty, and stretches up to the ceiling, pushing at each large white roofing tile with his fingertips. He doesn't know what Tony's quoting from. There are so many movies and television shows to catch up on. Going to the flicks was always one of Steve's favorite things in the past. Appearing in his own flicks had been tremendous, a completely guilty pleasure. Now Steve knows just how much has been made to be seen, he's a little overwhelmed.

"Of course," Steve says, disappointed that none of the ceiling tiles move.

"More precision in my flying. Do you remember when you played with what's-her-name's thingy?" Tony says.

"Uh," Steve says, trying the wall tiles to see if any of them give at all, "phrasing aside, you're going to have to be more specific?"

"Oh, haha, I made a joke about you having sex. Clearly I've been hit on the head," Tony says.

Steve makes a performance out of rolling his eyes because Tony can't see him do it.

"Jane's internet girl," Tony says. "Or intern girl. One or the other. I forget which one she actually is, because I have nice sexual fantasies about both options."

"Darcy," Steve says. "You mean Darcy Lewis. The girl who's inordinately fond of her taser?"

"That's the one." Tony says. "She had that 3DS that you threw a fit over."

"She had that what? And I did what?" Steve says, climbing into the shower and trying the tiles there.

"The handheld game machine," Tony says, slowly. "With the game with the monkeys in the balls."

"Oh, right. Yeah." Steve climbs quietly out of the shower, and eyeballs the bathroom warily. If I were a clue, where would I hide? He checks under the toilet mat, and drops it, disappointed. He reaches out to flush the toilet — there's nowhere else to check. "I didn't mean to drop it," he calls over the sound of rushing water, "and I would have replaced it if it had been broken. She didn't have to go on and on." He reaches out to turn a faucet on, and pauses in realization. Behind the sink. He reaches down, leaving the water running, and curls his fingers into the gap.

"That's girls for you," Tony says. "Anyway, I installed a screen much like that gameboy. Just for when I'm overlaying other data over a real-life feed."

"Sounds interesting," Steve says, to be polite, as his fingers graze something. He pulls it out, and sags. It's just a few lumps of white stuff. He sniffs at it, but it just smells like paper. Whatever Tony's hiding, it's not in the bathroom. Dammit. I was so sure... He straightens, pushes the balls back in, and washes his hands for appearance's sake.

"Aw, you're just saying that," Tony says, in a joking tone, as Steve emerges from the bathroom.

"So with that new feature," Steve says, heading over to where Tony's lying out pieces of his mark fourteen and clucking under his breath, while alternately leaning over and inputting things into a screen. Tony's the best multi-tasker Steve's ever seen, and his mom used to be able to cook, read the latest bodice-ripper she was engrossed in and tell Steve off for his latest scrapes all at once. "Would you be able to pick up things like potentially exploding warehouses better?"

"I picked it up with the last suit just fine," Tony says. And then guiltily freezes again, but this time it's in realization of what he's said. "Oops?" Tony offers.

Steve shakes his head wordlessly. One day, Tony's going to be the death of him.

Purely from all the worrying.

---

If Steve didn't know something was up before, he'd know it now.

He eventually left Tony alone after dutifully following him around for seven hours. Ostensibly to sleep. But it's six hours after that, and Tony's turned up at the gym.

Highly expecting Tony to sleep for a week, Steve's distracted — which lets his ricocheting punching bag land a lucky blow to the side of his face.

Tony sniggers a little. "Nice to know we can both injure each other accidentally. I didn't even have to use a light switch."

Steve narrows his eyes for a moment, but leaves the bag and reaches for his towel, patting his face with it automatically before realizing he hasn't been working out long enough to work up a sweat. "What do you want, Tony?" he asks.

Tony tugs at his white t-shirt and jogging pants. "World peace," Tony says, walking into the gym, shoving his hands in his pockets. Steve can see a swirl of bruising around Tony's elbow, obviously caused by yesterday's explosion. "And maybe one morning where the coffee pot isn't empty when I get to it. Do people even know how to refill it?"

"Do you?" Steve asks. "Seriously. A concussion isn't something to laugh about. You should be resting, forty-eight hours minimum."

"I rested. I slept. I had nice dreams of— scratch that, terrible dreams. Monkeys and explosions. If I wanted to experience that, I'd spend a night on the town with Logan and Luke." Tony ambles forward. "I don't see why my routine should change just because I was being heroic and got my ass flambéed for it. What's the matter, Cap? Nose out of joint because you didn't put me on your to-do list?"

"So you still want to spar?" Steve keeps his voice flat, and ignores the ribbing about his to-do lists. He's in disbelief, but he won't show that to Tony. Words are Tony's specialty—sometimes when Steve needs to teach Tony a lesson, even one as simple as when you are injured, you rest until you are better, he needs to prove it physically. "Fine."

"Fine?" Tony says, startled, like he was expecting more of a fight.

"Sure," Steve says. "Unless there's a problem." He kicks off his sneakers, and heads towards the large mat they've been using since last year, when an enemy managed to disable Tony's suit for the third time in one month, and Tony's rusty hand-to-hand skills weren't enough to save him from those nasty head knocks either. He stretches, even though he's already warmed up, and pauses halfway through when Tony doesn't copy him. (Warming up correctly had been another of the lessons Steve had to provide Tony with firsthand.) "Now there's a problem."

"Not really," Tony says, moving to the middle of the mat, and jumping up and down on the spot a couple of times before bringing up his hands in a defensive posture. "I'm ready. I warmed up downstairs."

"Yeah?" Steve says, suspiciously.

"Just in case you tried to pull that no, you're bruised routine," Tony says.

"I'm not going to go easy on you just because I have an advantage," Steve says. "I always go easy on you."

"Big talk," Tony says, "come at me."

There's more of a fire than usual in Tony's face. More desperation. If Tony still thinks he's managing to hide that something's going on, he's sorely mistaken. Steve sighs, but moves into position, keeping light on his feet, moving and shifting his weight like it's as second-nature as breathing.

Steve starts easily with a few shots which are easy to block. He waits just for Tony's mouth to curve in a smirk, and jabs twice at Tony's ribs. He keeps the jabs gentle, and easily dodges Tony's returning swipes. Tony shoots him a pained look, and doubles his efforts, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"You okay?" Steve asks, even though he knows he jabbed where Tony is most bruised. Tony's suit absorbed most of the heat of the explosion—the flame-retardant doo-hickey stuff was good at its job. It was the impact that screwed Tony. Steve blanks out the memory of finding Tony, limbs splayed, the back of his suit fused to a tree and a giant chunk of flaming roof pushing him down.

"Bright as daylight," Tony says, in a cheerful tone that would be more believable if Tony didn't deliver it through slightly clenched teeth.

"Loosen up," Steve says. "I don't fight well just because I can punch through a cinder block."

"I vaguely recall you punching through a cinder block once," Tony mutters, pausing to wipe his forehead with the hem of his t-shirt. There's not even a faint glow from the arc reactor. Tony takes time to pad it before coming into spar. Steve hates that Tony has that universally known weak spot. The first time Steve read the report of Iron Man's true genesis as a hero, he remembers reading how Obadiah Stane — a man who was supposed to be someone Tony could trust with his life — reached into Tony's chest and gleefully took the arc reactor, leaving Tony alone to die. It had been Pepper's gift, and Tony's quick thinking, and Tony's first robot Dummy, that had saved the day. Steve silently thanks them all for saving Tony.

Even if Tony is being a bit of an ass right now.

"Sure, that part of it doesn't hurt," Steve says, shrugging and rallying with a sustained series of blows which Tony mostly parries. "But my best strength is that I'm fast. I keep my knees bent at all times." He launches a kick, and Tony staggers at the impact of it, nearly toppling.

"Motherf—" Tony starts, and swallows down the rest of the curse when Steve glares at him. "Motherfriendly," Tony says, squinting up at Steve. He straightens and starts moving again, this time bending his knees.

"When you're—" Steve starts, and leaves off feeling better because that's apparently a red rag to Tony's bullheadedness, "more likely to remember to bend your knees, I'm going to try and arrange some of the others to come down and help you spar."

Tony frowns at him with an air of betrayal. "You said they'd rip me apart," he says.

"Last year they would have. Now you're getting better, you need to know how other people fight to be able to adapt. If you and I got in a fight, it'd be no good," Steve says, shrugging.

"Because we know each other too well? And what we would do?" Tony says, neatly dodging an uppercut Steve sends his way, but knocking into the playful backhanded swipe Steve lands on Tony's cheek.

"Hmm, or we'd use what we know against each other," Steve says, and rears his shoulder back, moving as if going in for one of his patented power forward jabs. Tony instantly dodges it, but Steve pivots and jabs Tony hard. Tony turns to try and accommodate for the change of direction, but it's too little, too late — they both go spilling down to the ground.

Tony lets out a noise of pain, and Steve manages to cup his hand around the base of Tony's skull so he doesn't hit the mat too hard. Tony's brain has been rattled around his skull more than enough this week. Tony looks up at Steve reproachfully, and Steve moves his hand, splaying his right palm by the side of Tony's head, pushing his left palm into Tony's chest hard, to keep him down. "You feinted," Tony says, outraged. And then blinks. "Which was the lesson. Little slow there, brain." He makes to move, but can't. "Um, Steve? I can't move?"

"Sort of the plan here," Steve says, carefully straddling his knees either side of Tony's thighs.

"Okay, you know me. I've rolled with some kinky stuff in the past, but I'm not too fond of the idea of getting hinky where Cage has been sweating all over the place," Tony says. "Don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want my slut reputation marred by my list of places where I refuse to get on down. Agent Fury's bedroom, high on that list."

"I'm not—" Steve starts, but Tony sniggers. Oh. Steve fell for the bait again. Steve swallows the sound of frustration he wants to make. He doesn't want to give Tony the pleasure of hearing it. "I'm contemplating keeping you down in the sweat-soaked mat until you tell me what's been bothering you."

"I've been engrossed with a formula working out exactly how far I would go for a Klondike bar," Tony quips.

"What's really been bothering you," Steve clarifies, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You never don't know something," Steve says.

Tony makes an actual frustrated sound and tries to get up. He fails. Obviously. Steve's not holding his strength back now. "You're not going to find out," Tony says, looking directly in Steve's eyes, unflinching. "Because you'd have to be an asshole to me to get anything from me that I'm not ready to say. And you're not capable of that."

Steve ignores the rippling feeling in his stomach, and stares back at Tony, glaring. "I'm not?" he asks, quietly.

"No," Tony says, with conviction. A smirk slides onto his face. "See, this is where I'd win in a fight that was between you and I. You're on top, but I've still got power over you." Tony leans his head up as much as he can to whisper in Steve's ear. "You can't do a thing to me that I don't want you to." Steve doesn't flinch when Tony leans his back down to the floor, but he wants to. "See," Tony adds, smugly. "You're too honest, Steve. Too straightforward. You could never be an asshole to get what you want."

"Yeah?" Steve says, simmering with something he can't put a name to. He pushes the fingers apart of the hand on Tony's chest, covering Tony's arc reactor completely, and he resists the shiver at the fact that Tony doesn't flinch, even though he won't let anyone else come near his arc reactor. Obadiah Stane's betrayal has affected Tony more than he'll ever say out loud. "I'm not as pure and simple as you think I am."

"Really?"

"I can stoop. To certain, low levels," Steve says, and he's supposed to be threatening and strong, not strung-out thin with it. There's not supposed to be anything more than the impulse to bring Tony down a peg or two. To wipe away the ego to show the more vulnerable, more honest layer below, the layer Tony usually only shows to those closest to him. Steve's seen it more than most, but not today. Today, Tony's resisting.

"Which levels?"

"Evil ones," Steve says, promptly, weirdly tense with it, weirdly aware of Tony pushing up into his grip. Defying him. Refusing to let his guard down. Instead of Tony letting him in, there's a different, odd current of energy crackling between them.

"Mm," Tony says, and shuffles under Steve's grip, "don't tease me like that, baby." There should be just a teasing note in that, too, but there's an odd curl of honesty, and Tony's realized it too — Tony's pupils are suddenly, wildly blown wide, and his breath is shallower than it should be considering his level of exertion.

"What," Steve says, his voice oddly husky, "if I said I wasn't teasing?" He feels a little dizzy, to be honest, but he won't admit it — Tony will take that as a victory, as proof Tony has power over him even in this vulnerable position. Except his body seems to be admitting it for him—the hand splayed on Tony's chest becomes a clutching claw, tugging in the material of Tony's t-shirt.

And Tony isn't exactly struggling any more. In fact, his eyes lock on Steve's, and his hips move up, slowly, unmistakably, to align with Steve's. One minor undulation and it's unmistakable between them — they're both affected by this moment, both undeniably hard. Tony swallows with obvious difficulty, eyes still locked to Steve's, and when Steve — distracted — doesn't notice one of Tony's arms slipping free; Tony only uses it to put his hand on the side of Steve's cheek. His thumb rubs the corner of Steve's mouth, and a frisson of energy crackles across his lips, down his spine, pooling in his groin. If Steve just moves, just an inch, they'll be kissing. They'll be pushing against each other. They'll be—

The cough from the doorway makes them leap apart, like they've been scalded. Highly aware of how compromising it must have looked, how compromised they were, Steve quickly helps Tony to his feet, heat in his cheeks that he can't push away quickly enough. Tony, bless his quick-thinking, stands partially in front of Steve, hooking his fingers in his long t-shirt, covering his own, uh, condition.

Steve catches a glimpse of both of them in the full-wall mirror on the far side of the gym. He barely recognizes his own expression. Is this how Tony sees him? This dark eyed, pink-flushed, intense expression? He can see a smirk on Tony's face in the mirror too, but it seems more self-satisfied than smug. If there is a difference between the two, Tony's radiating it.

"Sorry to interrupt," Logan drawls, leaning against the doorway. "But we've got a situation." He smirks at them. "I'll tell the others you'll be through in a few minutes."

Steve opens his mouth to make some sort of excuse, but the sound dies half-formed in his throat, which just makes Logan smirk even more, drum his fingers on the doorframe, leer exaggeratedly at both of them and turn off to go towards the mansion's briefing room, whistling as he goes.

"Shit," Steve says.

"See," Tony says, his voice a little quiet, "you can't even make up a lie to Logan. You're the most honest person on the planet."

"Yeah," Steve says, self-deprecatingly. He risks a look at Tony, who just shrugs.

"It's not a character flaw," Tony says, quietly, approvingly. He smiles at Steve, somewhat sadly, and then moves away towards the door. Steve watches him for a moment before following, and now, now he knows there's something Tony's hiding.

The trouble is, Steve gets the feeling he's added something to the mix which might make it all worse.

His feelings are qualified when they get to the briefing and Cage tells them all why they're there.

The hospital Tony was taken to last night has been bombed.

Tony's expression drains of all color and Steve makes the call for them to assemble to help with the cleanup.

Chapter 3

Of all the things that Tony is an expert in, avoiding people is high up his list. He manages to avoid Steve for almost a week. He knows he's being silly about it, but he's a fan of denial. It's easy. He stays in his lab, doing paperwork for Stark Industries' latest big production and fixing up his mark fifteen, right until Jan brings him down a tray of food with another post-it note on it.

It says: DON'T BE A MORON. And it has a big arrow pointing to a picture of Tony. Tony rolls his eyes, thanks Jan, and carries the tray back upstairs, settling onto the kitchen's breakfast bar and throwing the apple on the tray at Spider-Man when he tries to websling off with Tony's pudding.

"Aw, man," Spider-Man says, catching the apple but letting his webs dangle awkwardly before reeling them in. He stays upright, but pulls his mask down a little to bite at the apple. "No one's let me steal any pudding this week." He turns his mask in Jan's direction, who rolls her eyes.

"I'll see you later," Jan tells Tony, who nods. "If anyone needs me, I'm teleconferencing with Betty Ross in my room."

"Mm, make me some screencaps of that," Tony tells her. Jan rolls her eyes and flips him the bird for added measure.

"She's probably just Skyping Hank again," Spider-Man offers. "Girl doesn't know when to leave a bad situation alone."

"I'm staying out of that relationship," Tony says, holding up one hand. "Not only does Hank know how to sulk better than Steve does, every time anyone mentions eating Pym particles I think it's a metaphor and I get oddly aroused."

"Now I feel sick," Spider-Man says. "But not too queasy for pudding," he adds, longingly.

Tony eyeballs Spider-Man and peels the lid off the pudding cup. "Don't you get fed at home?"

"Not so much," Spider-Man says, in pure puppy-dog tone. "My wife's mean."

Tony blinks. "You're married?"

"No, I just found a woman in an alley, spider-napped her and now I call her my wife," Spider-Man says, turning the right way up and lowering himself into the stool next to Tony. He tugs down his mask again as he does so, and pockets the half-eaten apple. "I still leave her in charge of my puddings. Do you think that's a bad life decision?"

"There's something wrong with you," Tony says, but hands over his pudding pot.

"Scooooooore," Spider-Man yells, fleeing from the kitchen, sending a spray of web to steal Tony's spoon as he goes.

"He got your pudding with that one too, huh?" Steve says from the doorway as Spider-Man ducks around him. Tony starts guiltily, and then smiles sheepishly.

"I know he keeps joking about it," Tony says, "but I almost think it's not a joke. I kinda think he's not getting fed right at home." He picks up the banana next to his sandwiches, and carefully nips the end off and pushes from the stalk end. It really is efficient, if Tony ignores he's picked up a lifehack skill from actual monkeys. "But I can't bring myself to break his wish that we don't have his real life identity. Otherwise I could hack his bank account and transfer money secretly, or something."

"Like you did to the hospital when they refused your check?" Steve says, pointedly.

"How did you—" Tony starts, and tilts his head. "One of my interns finally get good enough, huh?"

Steve offers him his best poker face expression, but Steve is still way too honest, it's all over his face. Tony's stomach swoops a little, remembering Steve's face, so close to his, and the way it had felt to connect just a little with him...

No, Tony tells himself. No. Even if you weren't under a manic death threat, you're not exactly Captain America material. Although, then he gets angry at his own thoughts. Why am I not Captain America material? I had a shady past, but I've made up for it since. I was willing to throw my life away to stop Manhattan being blown up. I've employed millions of hardworking Americans. I've not just stopped making weapons, but I've actively sought out and destroyed the ones in insurgent hands. Why the hell am I not—

"Tony?" Steve says.

Tony shakes himself. "Hm. Sorry. Distracted. Thinking. Parker, was it?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" Steve says.

"No," Tony admits, "but let's roll with plausible deniability."

"Seems like a good idea," Steve says, almost tentatively, sitting down next to Tony like the stool might explode. Oh, Tony thinks, maybe this is one of those situations. When they're talking about one thing, and really talking about another thing. Like in the gym. When Tony was taunting him. He wasn't really saying you could never be an asshole, it was more, why don't you man up and fuck me into this gym mat?

Tony feels himself tense, and forces himself to let it slide. He's got someone after him. There's no way he could be happy with letting someone else in, let alone someone as important to him as Steve. Whoever's after him was crazy enough to blow up a hospital to try to get to him. He was able to blow it over as coincidence to the others, but it won't be long before they realize, and Tony has to find some way to stop the threat — or disappear so that the people he cares about won't be taken out as collateral damage.

Like the thankfully empty ward of the hospital.

"I'm doing the press announcement for my amusement park this week," Tony blurts, because a) it's true, even though all he's been doing is signing off on paperwork and designing the safety protocols, and b) it's completely off-tangent from his thoughts, which might be a good idea if he wants to keep this death threat thing secret.

And he really does want to keep it secret. If the others knew, they'd smother him. Swamp him. Tony needs to find out who the mole is. The mole has to be within the Avengers or Stark Industries or SHIELD; the notes get left in places only someone that close to him could reach. If the others know, they'll wrap him up, keep him safe, and Tony will never find out who the mole is.

"It's been all over the news," Steve says. "I guess you don't watch too much TV when you're engrossed in your lab work."

"Sometimes I watch the Playboy channel," Tony says, grinning at Steve.

Steve shakes his head ruefully. "It looks great already," he says. "Much better rollercoasters than we ever had. Not that I ever got to ride one. The Depression made people disdainful of them." He shrugs. "Guess people were tired of things that could potentially kill them," he adds, in a quieter voice.

"Beg to disagree about the better rollercoaster part," Tony says, through a mouthful of cheese sandwich. "Ma took me on one of the coasters that survived the big World War II coaster cull. Scariest thing I've ever been on, went as high as the trees, I could swear down it hadn't had a thing changed about it in fifty years. My Starkcoasters aren't as crazy as all that — but they're definitely hell-as-all safer."

"Starkcoasters," Steve repeats. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. You did get them to call it StarkPark after all."

Tony grins. "The public love to rhyme."

"All the time," Steve deadpans.

Tony gives him a look and Steve grins, innocently. "It's just... been pretty gloomy here recently," Tony explains. "An amusement park might be just what the public needs. It's not just physical villains we have to save people from. The mental villains can sometimes be completely worse." He just about manages to hold back and I should know.

Steve looks at Tony in a torn mixture of sadness and agreement. "So you thought you'd fulfill the public's needs by making a giant, multi-colored monument to your name."

"No," Tony corrects, grinning, "I thought I'd fulfill the public's needs by making a giant, multi-colored, interactive monument to my name. Anyway, Pepper's sent me the script for tomorrow, so it shouldn't be anything too hard. As long as I stay mostly on script."

"Well, as the world already knows you're Iron Man, I don't think you can announce it again," Steve says, slipping off the stool. "You going to look around before doing your grand opening speech?"

"Yup," Tony says, eyeing Steve oddly until he realizes whichever intern Steve bribed to hack into the mysterious money donation the hospital received probably hacked Tony's schedule at the same time. Or the emails. More specifically, the forty-nine emails on the subject Pepper's sent him just today. "In the morning," Tony adds, because it's useless lying if so.

"Great," Steve says again, patting Tony on the shoulder. "You can show me around before it's open to the press to take photos. I've always wanted to see behind-the-scenes of an amusement park."

He walks off whistling, before Tony can say no.

Tony stares. Who's he even kidding, no one is capable of saying no to Captain America.

Least of all him.

---

The concept of Steve tagging along irks Tony, because he doesn't need a babysitter. Okay, so maybe what he needs is a bodyguard, but Steve's just there to be nosy. It doesn't matter that Steve's right and Tony is hiding something. Tony stays annoyed right up until the moment they get out of the car and Tony gets to show Steve around.

Tony doesn't know if he's ever seen Steve so genuinely happy. Tony's only virtually toured the park before now, but it's enough for him to be able to guide Steve around the attractions. Steve walks around, his mouth slightly open at the size of some things, a grin on his face at the others. It must be something, Tony thinks, for a kid from the Depression to see this sort of thing close up. To know the world pulled out from that joy-sapping slump.

Some of the major rides aren't ready, but once the engineers realize who Tony's guest is, Steve is asked to take a test ride on a few of the scarier rides that do already run, which works out pretty well — Happy had apparently volunteered himself but hadn't been able to sleep in terror of it. Tony had seventeen voicemails to that effect from Pepper, so he's pretty glad to be able to text her back a picture of Steve hanging upside down from a coaster cart.

Steve's game to try them all out. The fastest Starkcoaster runs flawlessly, but the backwards vertical drop stops halfway down. Happy swallows nervously, and Tony's stomach lurches for a second before he remembers: the safety system in StarkPark is flawless. Revolutionary. StarkPark should be the first amusement park in the world with a zero death count from accidents.

With a legitimate zero death count, Tony amends mentally, remembering the rumors that people have been dragged outside Disneyland to die so that their statistics would remain pure. Tony's smarter — he has a small medical facility built on-site, and the StarkPods.

Tony's very proud of his StarkPods. Especially how he's powering them; mini arc reactors that soak up solar and wind power and will run for decades without a charge up. Green energy has never looked so cool.

The original draft model even played music while they flew, but then the Stark Industries lawyers got snotty and refused to take on Apple (the name skirts on the border of trouble as it is), so Tony had to drop the music, which is annoying; he was hoping to con Fury into trying one out and then he was planning to leave him trapped in it for an hour as it played Cobra Starships' song about snakes on a plane (that track particularly winds Fury up for some reason. It's kind of amazing how annoyed he gets — Tony makes sure to play it at every possible opportunity.)

Tony can't stop smirking as one of the pods flies up, detaches Steve from the chair, and flies him down to the safety dock. Happy takes Tony personally to the dock to get him.

"Okay," Steve says, stumbling out, "was that part of the ride, or—"

"Nope," Tony says, and takes him around to the backdoor. Happy hangs behind at a respectable distance, which is probably a good thing — Tony can see the bulge of his second gun in his jacket even from that far. Hopefully Steve will think Happy's just being extra-clumsy about hiding it, not prepping for extra possible trouble at any time. "It's part of the park's safety features. They can sit up to four people each. I designed them, of course."

"Of course," Steve echoes, amiably, as Tony opens up a door to show Steve rows on rows of the soft blue flying pods.

"Most of them will hover by rides when they're active," Tony explains. "I based them on JARVIS' safety protocols. They'll be able to predict if there's going to be an error and be there in seconds if there's a problem. Whoever's in trouble will be caught up by the pod, and sent back here."

"That's impressive," Steve says, admiringly.

"Plus," Tony says, shutting the pods away, and leading Steve out of the small StarkPod building with a hand at the small of Steve's back, "my whole facility is family oriented. Most amusement parks hike up food costs. No. Everything is cost-friendly. Most amusement parks have junk food — I have baked potato joints, salad bars. Most amusement parks have candy floss and ice cream vans — I have fruit vans and sugar-free popsicles alongside them, at least."

"It's... incredible," Steve says. The honesty shines through his face. "What about those health food bars Pepper was telling me about?"

"The StarkBars?" Tony pulls a face. "Which, by the way, I think should be an alcohol bar. Not granola and... grass."

"Grass?" Steve prompts.

"Fine. Oats and raisins and pumpkin seeds, or whatever other recipe she got from that dreadful website. What's it called. Gloop, goop — that hot British actress who married the lead singer of that depressing band." Tony waves his hands vaguely.

"I don't get that reference," Steve says, "but I think I'm quite happy not to."

"Anyway, the StarkBars... I think there's happier ways to stuff 500 calories in your mouth than in a health bar. They're more one of her save-the-day projects." He waves his hands again expansively. "I just let her get on with it."

"Happier ways to stuff 500 calories in your mouth," Steve repeats, and squints. "You have junk food planned for here too, don't you? Tony."

Tony winces, and thinks about denying it, but it's hard to lie to Steve when he's right there, all in his face and being frowny and cute. "Yeah," he admits, on a slight whine. "I'll have StarkBurger joints too. And StarkPizza. But the healthier options are subsidized."

Steve hums, impressed, while Tony tries his best to forget that he just used the word cute to mentally describe Steve.

"I did it mostly for the tax breaks," Tony says, just to wind Steve up a little. Steve just shrugs, a knowing curve to the corner of his mouth that says he knows how much of that is a lie.

"No StarkShawarma?" Steve asks, companionably.

Tony grins. "I'll put it to Pepper at the next board meeting."

"Sir," Happy calls, "it's time to head to the front gates."

"Roger that," Tony says, winking at Steve. He turns to move off in the direction of the entrance of the park.

"It's funny," Steve says, rocking onto the balls of his feet on one spot for a moment, "I would have expected that you'd want to fly to the press conference in one of your StarkPods."

Tony blinks several times.

Steve does his best to look innocent, but is clearly swallowing down the urge to smirk at thinking of something Tony hasn't.

Tony feels foolish, but shrugs at a clearly-impressed Happy, and heads back to the StarkPods building, opening it up again. When he's overridden all the protocols to remove one from the building against schedule, he pulls it outside, locks up again, and starts to reprogram it. He feels oddly safe, and doesn't know if it's because if a) he's doing something so outside his usual pattern, not even a supervillain could predict it or b) he's doing it with Steve hovering at his back.

After he finishes, Steve helps Happy in, and Tony's phone buzzes. He sighs. "It'll be Pepper," he says, and starts to fish it out of his pocket. His fingertips graze his phone — and a curl of paper. He fights the urge to tense — apparently Steve has noticed he's been acting oddly — and doesn't pull his phone out. "I'll get her text later," he says, climbing into the blue, hovering pod and remotely shutting the pod dock door.

Steve looks at him wordlessly, clearly brooding, so fighting the tension hadn't even worked. Happy, however, breaks the awkward silence.

"She's gonna be pissed at you," Happy declares, shaking his head knowingly, the flush Tony's starting to think as Pepper pink covering Happy's cheeks.

Tony thinks of the death threat curled in his suit pocket, and of the pile of the mulched ones, sitting in his bathroom. "She's probably right to be," he admits.

---

There's quite a crowd gathered outside the entrance to StarkPark. Tony scans the crowd automatically, because he can't switch off the everything is a potential threat! alarm in his head that every Avenger ends up carrying.

Tony calms when he sees the bodyguards he's hired. He's used the firm for decades. They're subtle and don't blab to the press. Tony's sent them a little extra to not talk to the Avengers or SHIELD either. Bravado is all well and good, but anyone who dislikes him enough to send death threats has to at least know how Tony will react. Extra security is what anyone would do.

The press approves of Tony's entrance, as do the Stark board members Tony can see already schmoozing with the raft of journalists. Tony can't exactly explain that he didn't even think about flying in on a StarkPod because he's only been thinking of cautious plans since the fourth death threat found its way into his hands. Still, Steve seems happy that he thought of something Tony hadn't, and Tony's not about to spoil that for him.

Which should be enough of a clue that Tony's going to have to do something he hates to do. An actual conversation. About feelings.

Considering the plans Tony has already half-set in motion to deal with the death threats, it's not a conversation he's exactly looking forward to.

Unfortunately, Steve's not exactly as much of a fan of avoidance as Tony is. He's pretty great at going straight to the heart of an issue, and he's brave enough to tackle issues head on.

"One thing before you do your big speech," Steve says, approaching him as Tony straightens his tie to get ready to go up onto the podium.

Tony's stomach swoops. Here we go.

"Your hair looks ridiculous," Steve says.

Tony blinks, and before he can say anything, Steve's hand is in his hair, matter-of-factly smoothing it down so it falls nicely over his forehead for the official pictures the journalists are waiting to take. There are several flashes of cameras already in the background, but Tony barely pays attention — he's locked by the feeling of the fingertips on his forehead. He shivers despite himself, and Steve smiles at him, fondly. Tony looks Steve straight in the eye, somewhat unable to look away.

"Where's your phone?" Steve says, and does break the gaze, looking down to Tony's pockets. He moves a hand like he's about to go for Tony's pocket himself. Tony startles, and quickly grabs at it, forgetting which pocket it is in for a moment. He's desperate for Steve not to see the slip of paper that has to be another death threat. He fumbles it out of his pocket, presses cancel on the message Pepper's sent him, and hands it over.

"Who do you need to call?" Tony asks. Steve shakes his head and then grabs Tony. Tony swallows down an undignified squeak, thinking for a moment Steve's going to do something embarrassing to him in public, and to be honest, he probably has it coming. But he realizes what he's doing when Steve settles an arm around his shoulder, and then awkwardly holds up the Starkphone, pointing the camera lens at both of them. "Here," Tony says bossily, like he always knew what Steve was up to, "I've done more self-shots than you." He takes the phone from Steve and tries not to think how nice Steve's arm around him is. "Smile at the camera phone." Tony smiles and clicks the button. A cheesy camera sound effect echoes out from the speakers.

"So now you have a memento of the day. Send me a copy?" Steve says, as Tony reluctantly pulls out from under Steve's arm and turns towards the steps up to the podium.

"Sure," Tony says, and looks down at the phone. He has to fight from swallowing. In the photograph, he's smiling straight at the camera, but Steve is smiling at him.

When Tony looks up from his phone, Steve has moved closer.

"The other day," Steve says, twining his fingers together a little awkwardly before realizing what he's doing. He drops them into his pocket and tilts his chin and straightens his shoulders. He is pretty great at going straight to the heart of an issue after all. He's braver than all of them.

Tony shoots him what he hopes is a clear we're talking about this? expression. Steve flattens his mouth into a line. They are talking about it, then.

"That thing between us," Steve continues on gamely.

"I like to call that thing Big Tony. And you're definitely Big Steve," Tony says, because glib is always something he can do, even if Steve is shooting him a highly unimpressed glare. Tony surreptitiously sets the picture as his wallpaper before slipping the phone back in his pocket. "Now if you'll excuse me, I do have a speech to make—"

"We're guys," Steve says, simply. "It happens. It doesn't have to mean a thing."

Tony freezes, hand outstretched to the railing up the steps, because it's not what he expected. He expected some awkward talk about feelings, and team dynamics, and image maintenance. Sweeping it easily under the gym mat, as it were, is entirely an unexpected response. "Right," Tony says. "Good?"

"Unless you want it to mean something," Steve adds. "I think I'd be okay with that if you did."

Tony opens his mouth to say something, but can't think of the right word. Actually, as his stomach flips in the same way it did when Steve pushed him down into the mat, he's a little sure his answer would be God, yes, but it trips over I can't have you hurt if someone is gunning after me.

"More than okay," Steve adds, low and quiet.

Tony's saved from an outpouring of incoherent syllables by Happy coming over and pointedly tapping his watch at Tony. "I have to go," Tony says to Steve, feeling somewhat useless.

Steve shrugs. "We can talk later."

Great, Tony thinks, although his heart betrays him by flipping hopefully rather than reluctantly. You can quiet down, he tells it sternly. We have plans in motion to keep you and everyone else in my life safe. A plan which would go much more smoothly if you completely stayed out of things, FYI.

"Looking forward to it," Tony blurts, meaning to be sassy, but once again, like in the sparring room, real emotion creeps into it, undeniably suffusing the words with honesty. The words bring a genuine smile to Steve's face, so Tony can't even hate himself for it.

You'll regret that move later, Tony tells his heart.

"I'll, uh—" Tony says, the epitome of eloquence as he gestures up to the microphone.

Steve nods, but hangs around at the bottom of the steps, protectively. Tony hates that he likes it, that he feels safer knowing Steve is there.

Of course, having Captain America there — even in civvies which include a very nice shirt — isn't enough for whoever's after Tony's head on a stick. Tony's barely reached the top of the podium, turning to be polite to the Stark Industries board members who have joined him for the press release, when one of Tony's newer bodyguards slams him to the ground.

Tony raises his head slightly, hearing nothing but shouting and the frightened panicking of the crowd. When he looks up, there's a bullet hole in the StarkPark banner that was fluttering behind the podium.

Exactly where his head was, moments ago.

So much for keeping the death threats secret.

Less than a minute later, Tony's bundled into a car, and Happy pushes Steve in from the other side before taking the driving seat and gunning the engine.

"I don't get paid enough for this," Happy complains, but without too much heat — he's paid plenty in actuality, but he likes to whine.

Tony looks up as he buckles himself in, and regrets it — Steve's looking at him with a heavyset, unamused expression. This is going to go awesomely, Tony thinks.

"Someone wants you dead," Steve says.

The serious expression on Steve's face twists sharply into confusion when Tony looks at him, every muscle in his body tense as he admits, "I know."

As soon as Tony says it, Steve looks away. His face almost freezes into something neutral, but Tony can see the emotions boiling under the surface.

Tony's tense as Happy drives them towards the mansion, taking a longer but unpredictable route in case they're being followed — or the person that wants Tony dead is good at anticipating his movements. There's so much safety on the mansion itself that Tony's positive no one would attack there. Several high-profile supervillains have tried to take the fight to the Avengers' home and highly regretted it. The worst threat they've ever faced on home soil was the Hulk, and Tony doesn't like to think about that. He doesn't want to think about the Hulk at all, because then he remembers Malibu, and then he gets angry at himself, and then he misses Bruce, and it's all too much.

"How long has this been going on?" is the question Steve manages first.

Clenching the material of his pants around his knees, needing a physical anchor, Tony looks straight ahead and outlines it as briefly as he can.

He omits his plan for dealing with the situation. He omits anything about how he's feeling about it, but his refusal to tell any of the Avengers — least of all Steve — is obviously clear enough, because when Tony falteringly tells of finding the latest death threat in with his phone, Steve demands to see it. And when Tony turns to hand it to him, Steve's face is awash with emotion. Anger at Tony for hiding it, of course, but worry for him clearer than that, and fury at whoever is behind it stronger than both.

"You know what I'm about to say," Steve says, looking down at the paper.

"That I should have told you?" Tony says, wincing. He tags on, "But I'm cute enough to get away with it?"

"Not the precise phrasing I would have used," Steve says, "but the gist is pretty sound." He pockets the death threat with a still grim expression lingering on his face. "Happy, this thing have a comm system?"

"Of course, all the gadgets," Happy says, missing the frantic fingers across the neck gesture that Tony's throwing at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Patch me through to the mansion," Steve says. "I need to assemble the Avengers."

"We can't fight whoever's threatening me," Tony says, "I don't know who it is."

"If you let me finish," Steve says, "I was about to add for a meeting."

"Oh," Tony says. "Oh. I prefer fighting to meetings. That's because I'm sane."

"Part of that sentence is debatable," Steve says, heavily.

---

Sadly, Tony doesn't make it to the meeting straightaway.

Not because he's killed on the way. Life is just not that kind.

No, he's waylaid by an obstacle.

A Pepper Potts shaped obstacle.

Happy was wrong. She's not pissed at Tony.

Pissed is way too much of an understatement.

She's practically simmering with rage when Tony sees her, just standing, waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase.

"I'll go set up the meeting," Steve says, touching Tony reassuringly just above the elbow. Tony turns to him. "Be nice to her," he adds, sotto voce. "She's just scared."

Tony nods, keeping the movement barely perceptible, and Steve squeezes his arm reassuringly before moving past Pepper towards the Avengers' boardroom.

"How many times?" Pepper asks, simply. Her body language is stiff, formal; anyone else in the world might think she's just being her normal, hyper-efficient self.

Anyone else in the world would be wrong.

Her shoulders are hunched a little in worry. Her arms are folded professionally, but her fingertips are white from where she's gripping into her forearms too hard, and her eyes shimmer with a combination of rage and distress.

This is Pepper at her most upset.

"How many times?" she repeats.

"I don't—" Tony says, meaning he doesn't know what she means, but that just makes her look tired all of a sudden.

She exhales, and shakes her head, clearly overcome. She paces for a few steps, turning back and forth at the foot of the staircase, and she stops and sends a piercing glare in his direction. "How many times do I have to be startled by something involving your potential death? Hmm?"

Tony looks down for a second, and shuffles. He can be cocky in front of anyone, but there's something about Pepper that rips him down to his core, completely ripping away that shiny edge of personality he uses as a mask.

The incident in Malibu changed both of them. Tony doesn't know yet if the change is for the best or not.

He's not been in love with Pepper for years, but he's always going to love her fiercely and want to protect her until the end of his days. Unfortunately, the behavior he perceives as acceptable levels of protection and what she perceives as acceptable are always going to wildly differ.

"I was trying to protect you," Tony says, after a moment, with a tight shrug. "I didn't know the threats would amount to anything. It's not my first death threat rodeo. I thought it would wither and burn and you wouldn't have to fret at all."

Pepper sighs. "I'm your friend, Tony. The fretting goes with the territory. Did you tell Steve not to fret?"

"Uh," Tony says, and rubs the back of his neck apologetically, "kinda didn't tell him either."

Pepper stops pacing, and freezes. "You didn't even tell Steve," she repeats, like that's somehow worse than not telling her. "Anthony Edward Stark—"

"Oh, come on, the full name? Really? This is a middle name deal? It's not as bad as, as—" Tony racks his memory.

"I'm waiting," Pepper says, tapping one foot, raising an eyebrow which clearly says if this example is not up to par, Tony's about to have the shit yelled out of him.

"The time with the palladium," Tony says, "where I really was dying and didn't tell you. Or the time with the Skrulls and the virus and I didn't tell you about the seizures. Or—"

"Or Malibu, when the doctors found a brain tumor," Pepper interrupts, shaking her head in disbelief.

"It was benign," Tony says, scowling a little, "I was fine — There were much bigger things going on in Malibu than what happened to me. I will always prioritize you over me; that's something you're just going to have to deal with."

Pepper tries to look upset at that, but sighs, and huffs a piece of hair which has escaped from her usually immaculate ponytail away from her forehead. "In each of those examples, finding out later hurt me every single time."

"In each of those examples, I was fine," Tony mutters, vaguely aware he's doing a passable impression of a moody teenager. "And I will be fine this time." He steps a little closer, grinning his most charming smile, and he holds out his arms. "I promise, Pep."

Pepper resists for about a second, which is less time than she normally holds on for when she's angry at him, but it's when she slides an unsteady hand around the base of his neck that he realizes: she's shaking. "You'd better be," she mutters, into his shoulder.

"Trust me," Tony says, burying his head in her neck, hiding his face as he whispers, "I'm prepared."

"To die?" Pepper snorts a laugh that's half tears. "Sometimes I'm convinced you're the most ridiculous man on the planet."

"Nonsense," Tony says, "the most ridiculous man on the planet is that dude that they got to present the 68th Golden Globes."

Pepper pulls back and gives him an askance look. "You're going to have to get over that grudge, Tony."

"Maybe one day," Tony says, wrinkling his nose. "Why would they pick that dude over me?"

Pepper sends him a reproachful smile. "Because you're too pretty and you'd break all the cameras?" she deadpans.

It's probably a quote, and it's probably something Tony himself has said, but he's very good at saying six impossible things all before breakfast and he has an extraordinary talent for forgetting things he's said, so he just grins and finger guns her.

"I don't know why I haven't given up on you before now," Pepper mutters to herself, and leans in, and squeezes his hand. It hurts a little, betraying exactly how worried she is about him.

"It's the because I'm so pretty thing," Tony tells her. "But it's okay; I've accepted the fact that you're terribly superficial."

Pepper slaps him on the arm, and narrows her eyes. "Prettiness only gets you so far in life," she sniffs.

"I'll be ugly when I'm dead," Tony says, pretending to be outlandish.

Not mentioning, that might be sort of the plan.

For the death threats to be getting into his pocket, unnoticed, there's a mole. And the security systems in SHIELD, in Stark Industries, in the Avengers' mansion itself — Tony can trust none of them.

Right now, the only person he can trust in the world to keep a secret, besides himself, is standing right in front of him.

And, right now, he can't tell her the plan.

He can't tell her anything until he knows they're somewhere no one can overhear.

Because if someone wants him dead who can get close enough to him to put a piece of paper in his pocket without noticing, they can get close enough to overhear, and Tony's plan to survive this threat really needs to be a secret.

"Hmph," Pepper says, unaware of Tony's thoughts. Which is probably a really good thing. Tony sometimes wants to do terrible things to himself when he's thinking; it would be worse for someone not so inured to his brain's crap. "You'd probably find some way to be an attractive corpse."

You have no idea, Tony thinks. He grins at her, crookedly. "I plan on never dying. I thought you'd approve of that plan."

Pepper looks at him, sadly. "Everyone dies, Tony." She moves towards the door, but pauses at his shoulder. "Enjoy your meeting," she says.

"I didn't delay you here long enough that I managed to get out of it?" Tony asks, squinting at her, rocking on his heels.

"Not even," Logan says, his face appearing around the edge of the nearest door. "If I have to sit through a meeting about you, you have to sit through a meeting about you."

"Damn," Pepper says. "My life would have been so much more rainbows and sunshine if I'd been allowed to work with that philosophy." She grins at Tony.

"No, it wouldn't," Tony says, and walks backwards towards Logan so he can see her expression, "I'd have whined at you even more if I had to attend all my meetings."

"I didn't think that was humanly possible for you to whine more," Pepper says, and waves at him, turns on her heel, and breezes out of the mansion before Tony can say anything else.

"She always gets the last word," Tony says, turning back and following Logan to the Avengers' boardroom (and don't even get him started on how much he hates that he had to install a boardroom in what's still essentially his own house.)

"Are you bragging or complaining?" Logan asks, arching one eyebrow in a manner scarily reminiscent of Pepper.

"I never know," Tony says.

"Well, shut up then," Logan tells him.

Tony stares at the X-Man. "One day you're going to stop being so loquacious and talkative, Logan, and the world will end."

"One day the world will end and that will force you to shut the hell up," Logan tells him.

It would probably be less creepy if he didn't sound so cheerful at the thought.

---

"I don't get it," Jan says, after all the Avengers pretty much line up to let Tony know how much of an idiot he is as part of the big "let's deal with Tony's death threats" meeting.

Tony especially appreciates Logan doing it (also known as not for a single second of it), and throws Steve a sour look. Jan, with her headshake of disappointment at the beginning, is clearly the nicest Avenger of them all.

Jan shakes her head again, but this time it's in confusion. "Why would someone want Tony dead?"

"...because they met him?" Logan suggests with a drawl. Tony squints at him, and Logan just grins and salutes him with a beer.

"The question for now isn't why," Cage says, getting up from his seat and striding up to the now-projected-large image of the latest death threat. "It's who. Who would want Tony dead, apart from the usual suspects?"

YOU CAN'T FIND ME BUT
I WILL ALWAYS FIND YOU
AND DESTROY YOU.
AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT.

"Uh," Steve says, "the usual suspects?"

"You know," Spider-Man says, for once sitting down in a proper seat. "Anyone who's ever met him?"

"I sacrificed my pudding for you," Tony says at him, sourly crossing his arms.

"Look," Steve says. "Tony hiding it aside — a death threat against any Avenger is a serious matter. And we have to treat it like any other mission. We need a list of possible suspects. Of reasons. Tony, no more lying, this is time for full disclosure. We need a full list of every individual or group who you've pissed off in the past, you or your company, and why. Jan, Cage, spend some time with Tony — get that list as comprehensive as you can. Clint, Logan, I want you to interview some of the Stark Employees, find out who might have a grudge in-house, Tony doesn't have time to know all his employees but some of them may be harboring a grudge regardless. Carol, you're with me, we've got a lot of security footage to go through."

"Goodie," Carol says, the sarcasm unmissable, but she looks a little pleased, actually. It's a good match for her intelligence background.

"Spider-Man, I know you're busy with alternate things," Steve says, alternate things being an allegory for Spider-Man's real life and real identity. "But if you have any spare time, I'd appreciate you maintaining a low profile. Hold back. Be observant. Let me know if your spider-sense picks up any good leads." Steve tilts his head. "I don't suppose it's picking up anything from in here?"

"Nothing," Spider-Man says. "If it's anyone in here, they don't know they're doing it."

"You're the most re-assuring bug in the whole world," Logan tells him, dourly. "I don't tell you that often enough."

"We'll discount external threats before going for the wackier ideas," Steve says, standing in front of the death threat, facing them all down. "I think that's a good start for now? We assemble here tomorrow, same time, and regroup with the information we have. I'd also like to hold back from informing SHIELD about this. I don't think it was one of us — which means there's got to be a mole somewhere. Either in Stark Industries itself or in SHIELD. I'd rather keep it between us until—"

The room flickers. In the second before the light drops entirely, Tony sees Steve lurching automatically in his direction, and then the light floods back on — and Fury's giant head fills the screen.

"Too late," Tony sing-songs, with his best shit-eating grin plastered on.

Chapter 4

On the upside for Steve's sanity, Tony is grounded to the mansion until further notice.

On the downside for Steve's sanity, Tony is grounded to the mansion until further notice.

Tony isn't exactly taking being confined to the manor graciously. To the point of it only being five days into the lockdown and he's already ordered in more pizza than even Spider-Man can eat, filled the downstairs bathroom with paper cranes declaring them very zen, and spent a lot of time down in his lab with AC/DC on so loud that the whole house shakes with it every now and again.

Logan tried to make a very profitable side business selling the Avengers ear plugs, until Steve stopped him and made him give them out for free.

Worse, they haven't made any progress on who's behind it. Steve doesn't like to think it's because someone at SHIELD is behind it, but he wouldn't be surprised. Tony's ranted about the intelligence organization fearing intelligence, but Steve isn't surprised that they do — spies are trained to be sneaky and not be seen.

And, of course, Tony avoids Steve like the total and utter coward he usually is. A nuclear missile needs to be sent on a probably-suicidal mission to another realm? Sure. Fight space aliens in space while Thor prances around without even a helmet? Yeah, why not. Sit down and have an honest conversation about feelings? No multiplied a million by all the money in Tony's considerable fortune.

Of course, Steve should probably be chasing Tony down more thoroughly, but apparently he's going through a little bit of a cowardly streak himself. Unlike Tony, he can sit down and work through his feelings. He's mostly angry that Tony couldn't tell him. Tony's had secrets from him before, and each time it hurt, but this time it hurts more.

Because this time it's not some new crazy Stark Industries initiative. It's a personal secret. It's a secret which threatens Tony himself.

Steve stews over it all for probably the thousandth time (or, to be fair, it might still be the first time — it's not like Steve's thought of much else) for a good ten minutes before it's obvious Tony's too cowardly to show up for their planned sparring session.

"If the mountain won't come to Muhammad," Steve mutters, and goes to the nearest wall panel. "JARVIS, has Tony blocked me out of your systems?"

"I'm afraid that apart from my day-to-day routines for running the house and the emergency protocols, Mr. Stark has limited my extended routines, Captain Rogers," JARVIS intones in a blank tone.

Steve thinks about it for a moment. There's usually inflection in JARVIS' tone — unless he's trying to hint something. Tony's made his AI too smart for his own good. Steve pulls a wry face. "JARVIS, those emergency protocols wouldn't happen to include me being able to locate all the Avengers within the mansion for important Avengers' business? Mr. Stark has not shown up for his sparring session and his last session was interrupted. This makes it over ten days since his last active non-field Avengers' exertion, which clearly makes him unsuitable should any Avengers' activity become available."

"I'm sure sir would argue that as he is grounded, that necessity is null and void, Captain Rogers."

"Sir may argue that," Steve says, "but if you dive into your memory banks, you'll know that sir has used every rule has an exception on multiple occasions. Even though no enemy altercation involving the Avengers' mansion has required manual intervention, that does not mean it will never happen. A grounded Avenger is limited to this location. If Avengers' business occurred on this property, sir would still qualify as an Avenger."

"My logic subroutines concur," JARVIS says. "Overriding lockdown, executing emergency protocol four. What is your request, Captain Rogers?"

"JARVIS," Steve says, "Tony's current location, please. And over-ride the lock on wherever he's holed up. I presume he's changed it out of pique."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS says. "He's in the solar observatory on the fifth floor. The entry code had been altered. I have mirrored it to your universal access code, Captain."

"Thank you, JARVIS," Steve says, and heads off at a jog to the stairs. No doubt Tony will be monitoring JARVIS' activity — if he went for the elevator, Tony would probably shut it down with Steve still inside it.

Steve jogs to the right door, keys in the code, and then halts, confused. The room is pitch dark. He's almost about to ask JARVIS to recalculate Tony's position, until he hears a small inhalation of breath. Tony is in here. He supposes it makes sense — the telescope probably works better in the dark.

He hits the panel to shut the door behind them, and his hand reaches out for the light.

"Don't," Tony's voice says, from somewhere in the darkness, so Steve drops his hand and starts to walk into the observatory.

He's only been here a few times — it's kind of the official hang-out room for the science geeks of the Avengers, and Steve's never really counted himself in that number, even though he's had to get better at that sort of stuff by default. While on downtime they can snark at the geniuses to dumb it down, it's not always possible to get a translation while under fire.

Still, the serum blessed Steve not just with eidetic memory, but with pretty good night vision, so it's easy for Steve to wind around the curved room over to where Tony's sitting.

Tony's not at the telescope, at one of the deck of computers, or at the screens. Instead he's sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring out of the window.

"Not entirely sure you should be there," Steve says, "the defensibility of windows and all of that."

"Sue me," Tony says, "I live on the edge."

"The edge of something," Steve says, settling down next to Tony, mimicking his pose. Down on the floor, with the aid of moonlight filtering through the window, it's lighter than in the rest of the room. He can make out most of Tony's features down here. "The edge of sanity?"

He keeps his gaze straight out the window, idly scanning the grounds. The mansion's security systems are excellent, but it doesn't stop the constant what if soundtrack constantly cycling in the back of his brain. Steve doesn't think it's his training. He remembers back in his pre-serum days, lying in bed and staring at his ceiling, where his mom had stuck paper stars that she had cut out of newspaper, thinking what if. Reliving the various beatings of the day. Wondering what would have happened if he didn't step up to the bullies. He'd be less bruised, of course, but maybe he would like himself less?

Even though he's looking straight forward, at the spill of the city lights, Steve can see Tony's face turn towards his in the periphery of his vision.

"I wasn't even sure if it was a real threat," Tony says.

Steve can hear the lie in it. So he calls him on it. "That's a lie."

"I..." Tony laughs, startled into it. The sound is sharp, hysterical. "I didn't want to worry anyone?"

"Closer."

"I was gathering data," Tony says, "so I could extrapolate the best method forward."

"I mostly believe that."

"Would you buy that I'm scared?"

Steve does look at him then, and Tony smiles briefly, but it washes away into something else. Something rawer. More emotional. "I would," Steve says, smiling sadly, "but it's not even fully that."

Tony looks away, out the window. "Denial," Tony says, fast on a sharp inhale, "is kind of the Stark way. And if I don't look at it too closely, I won't have to admit how rapidly I'm falling apart." He looks back at Steve, a steelier look on his face. "Don't even pretend that the doctors didn't tell you that my blood alcohol levels were zero."

Steve holds his poker face, but shrugs. "I assumed you'd talk to me about that when you were ready. That was a secret that doesn't affect us."

The words the death threat secret affects all of us hangs heavily in the silence.

Tony shuffles. "Couldn't. I couldn't make the words come. I can't even say I really wanted to tell you. I thought if I said it, it would be truer, and it would be one more thing to lead me back down and I—" He taps his fingers against the glass of the window, leaving finger marks behind. "I'm hardly coping with what I had to worry about. Some days it's just one more small thing to make the equation completely unbalance, y'know? And these... threats are hardly small."

Steve nods, even though Tony's not really looking at him. "Did I ever tell you my stepfather was an alcoholic?"

"It was in your file," Tony says, his voice a little muted.

"He wasn't exactly a huge conversationalist," Steve says. "I guess I picked up that from him."

"What are you talking about? You're the most loquacious Avenger," Tony says. "Oh wait, that's me."

"But he did tell me something once." Steve pushes past the knot in his throat that forms every time he has to talk about his stepfather. Tony needs this more than Steve needs to be temperamental about his own daddy issues. "He swore he didn't want to keep screwing up, but the alcohol... it wanted him to mess up. 'cause when you mess up and shove away everyone who gives a damn about you, then it's you and the alcohol alone 'til the end of days. Well, probably your days, anyway. And that's what it wants. It wants you alone."

"Still a step up from wanting me dead," Tony jokes.

"Not funny," Steve says, but he grins down into his lap and Tony mimics the smile. It looks a hundred shades less self-loathing of a smile, and Steve will definitely take that victory.

"It's... frustrating," Tony says. "I'm used to being able to protect others. Not just sit around like I'm a giant child."

"I know," Steve says, "it's taken a while for the world to realize your true inner self."

"Hey, I resemble that remark," Tony says, leaning a little and knocking Steve's shoulder with his own. Steve bats him back.

"You've spent years protecting us, getting our backs," Steve says, looking at Tony as seriously as he can manage. "Let us get your back this time, huh?"

Tony makes a noncommittal sound, but eventually nods.

"Besides, protecting you is always on my to-do list," Steve says, grinning at him.

"Ugh," Tony says, "between your to-do lists, one-fingered typing and Pepper's schedules, I am going to go insane."

"Shut up, my pedantic lists might save the world someday," Steve says, shoving Tony's shoulder with his own.

"I do feel less insane when I sit next to you. It's a comparison thing," Tony says.

"Hm," Steve says, and tilts his head, "I suppose you'd have to win one important variety of mine is bigger than yours."

Tony chokes out half a laugh. "Did you just make a dick reference? You just made a dick reference. Captain America."

Steve waggles his eyebrows, and Tony bursts out laughing, and it might be ridiculous, the two of them giggling in the dark like schoolboys, but Steve feels lighter from it. Hearing Tony joke reminds him that even when he's stressed, even when everything is at its worst, Tony's always going to be his constant.

"Change of subject, leader's prerogative," Steve says, and Tony sticks out his tongue at the rank pulling, "there is one thing I am definitely peeved by."

Tony tenses, readying himself for some sort of dressing down.

"I thought you suddenly loved my sparring sessions these last couple of months because I was good at it," Steve whines. "And now I know you only started turning up to all of them because you were extra-spooked by the death threats? That is seriously... how do you say it nowadays? Uncool? I thought I had a sparkling future as the most interesting tutor ever."

Tony blinks at him, several times. "You're good, it's just that sometimes my robots are more interesting when I don't have a death threat hanging over my terribly handsome head."

"Robots are more interesting than me?" Steve deadpans.

"Robots are more interesting than working up a sweat after ten minutes and resembling a drowned rat while you bounce around for the full hour, completely Mr. Perfect," Tony grouches. "Although..."

"Although?" Steve prompts, as Tony trails off.

Tony looks away, staring out of the window again. "Some of the extras in that last session were quite interesting."

"Extras?" Steve blurts. Tony turns slightly and quirks an eyebrow. Steve feels heat creep up his cheeks. "Oh," he says, in realization. "Oh," he says again, because that seems to be all that his brain is capable of.

"I am sorry I didn't tell you," Tony says, quietly. "Out of anyone, it would have been you."

Steve nods, barely perceptible, and Tony turns his whole body this time, still staying cross-legged, but shifting so he's closer to Steve. Tony puts his hand out onto Steve's shoulder, and they both feel Steve's full-body shudder at the touch.

Steve's stomach feels like it's full of bubbles. It's ridiculous. It feels like the first time he ever had a girl smile at him. Lucy Hawthorne, third grade. They were stacking books, alone in the classroom, and she told him furtively that she thought he was real cute. Steve's stomach would have flown away if it hadn't been tethered in his body, especially when she darted in to kiss his cheek. She hit a handful of hair with her lips, but it didn't matter. Later, of course, she joined the rest of the class to taunt him, low and sing-song, and the words had hurt more than being punched, and it didn't matter later, when she came to him, red-eyed and furtive, promising she still liked him, she just had to be mean to him or the others would beat her up... Steve never felt anything but contempt for her after that.

He still always remembers how it felt. Dizzy and like the floor wasn't as steady as he always thought it was.

He feels a horrible streak of panic — that this is one-sided, that Tony will feel nothing but pity for him — but as soon as he turns to look at Tony, Tony's face is unmistakable. Neither of them can deny the hunger in Tony's expression.

It's mixed in with panic, though, until Tony's fingers move up to Steve's forehead in a mirror of before, when Steve straightened Tony's hair for the press and they took a photo together, seconds before a bullet nearly hit Tony. With an almost determined expression, Tony's fingertips tangle in the few hairs lying on Steve's forehead, smoothing them back. Steve stays still, and watches in wonder as the panic slowly falls away from Tony's expression, being replaced with a soft smile; one Steve's never seen on any of the Stark promotional literature or in the presses or given to anyone but him.

"I promised myself I wouldn't—" Tony starts, his voice thick with something indefinable, his eyes so close to Steve that he thinks all of a sudden that he's never going to think about anything else. This moment, and Tony's fingers in his hair, and eyes so close he could drown in them. "Steve—" Tony starts again, swallowing visibly, "I—"

"All active Avengers to the docking bay," Logan calls over the speaker system built in to echo around the whole house in case of emergencies. As Avengers, emergencies seem to crop up more frequently than for most people.

"Dammit," Tony mutters, "that man is making a career of cockblocking me."

"Cockblocking," Steve repeats, in an undeniably pleased tone, as he gets to his feet and presses a panel in the wall to turn the lights on in the observatory. The fluorescent lighting saps away some of the weird urgency Steve's been feeling, with Tony so close.

Not all of it.

"Well," Tony says, a light pink color visible on his cheeks now that he's not partially hidden in shadows, "for a given definition of—" He shakes himself. "We can deal with this later. Right now we've got to—"

Steve can see the exact moment it hits Tony. He's grounded. He won't be assembling for this fight. Logan specifically used active Avenger for Tony's sake. Steve can literally see the light fade from Tony's eyes. His stomach boils with hatred for this whole situation. Tony shouldn't have to feel like this. It's completely ridiculous. Steve will rip apart whoever's behind this with his bare hands.

"You've got to go," Tony corrects himself, his voice soft.

"They could fight without me," Steve says, although it hurts him to say it, the guilt already sharp as a blade. If Tony needs him, though, Steve can sit back for once. "Carol is good enough to lead the Avengers permanently, and if she doesn't want the job, I'm pretty sure Cage would chew my arm off for the opportunity."

Tony shakes his head. "You'll pace like a fishwife if you stay. And then I'll get pissed off at you emoting through my whining period. Go. Bash some heads in for me, yeah?"

Steve lingers for a moment. He reaches out for Tony impulsively, aborts the motion halfway, and then Tony jerks forward, automatically finishing the gesture on Steve's behalf, pulling Steve's hand up to his own cheek.

Tony looks at him, nothing but seriousness in his stare. "Come back safe," he commands. "If anything ever happened to you—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. Even saying that half of it seems to have taken a lot out of him. Steve nods, smooths his thumb through Tony's facial hair a little, and turns, heading for the door.

Leaving Tony there feels a lot like leaving a limb behind.

---

It's late by the time the Avengers have de-briefed Director Fury in his helicarrier and been allowed to leave for home.

As Steve heads into the mansion last, behind the others, Tony's waiting for them on the stairs. He looks like he's asleep. Steve fumbles with the bolt as he closes the front door, and Carol gestures at Tony, her face creased into a question.

Steve nods at her. I'll deal with it.

"Okay, kids," Carol calls out, "let's go eat junk food and then veg in front of the TV."

"I like this plan," Spider-Man says, leading the way to the kitchen.

"Stop him before he gets all the pudding," Jan squeaks.

"I don't know why you're concerned about the amount of pudding left," Cage grouches, standing aside and letting her get through first, "even if there's only a tiny bit left, you can shrink down and it's a feast."

"Ooh," Jan says, like it's only just occurred to her. Maybe it's the first time it's occurred to her about pudding, but Steve's seen her shrink down to submerge herself in a tray of ice cubes when it's been too hot to function. "Or I could grow and eat everything before anyone else could!"

"Let's not and say we did," Clint says, looking a little panicked. He pushes at Cage to get through the door quickly, but throws a worried look over his shoulder at Tony and then at Steve.

Steve makes a shoo gesture and mouths, "I'll bring him through." Clint nods, and escapes into the kitchen with the others.

"You're hurt."

Steve starts. He hadn't realized Tony was awake. Tony's lifted his head now from the banisters of the stairs, and he looks utterly miserable. "It's only a scrape," Steve says, his fingers moving to it automatically. It's funny. Steve's the one still in his uniform, and Tony's in civilian clothes, suit trousers and a soft white shirt, pushed up at the elbows; his work clothes, meaning he's maybe been forced by Pepper into finally doing some of his paperwork.

"I should have been there with you," Tony says, looking at Steve's injury. "Whoever's behind these death threats might not think going after a whole crowd of Avengers is the best idea."

"Or they might come after us worse if you're there," Steve says, hating to be harsh.

Tony flinches, and his eyes flash down to meet Steve's, heavy with what he's perceiving as betrayal.

"The mansion is the safest place for you until we have more data," Steve adds, holding the eye contact, not backing down on this point. "As soon as we know who it is, we can negotiate with Fury to re-assess the feasibility of—"

"Are you hearing yourself?" Tony pushes up from the stairs, moving into Steve's personal space, anger almost tangible in the space between them. "Fury's turned you into nothing more than his pet monkey. Fury says jump, you ask how high, huh?"

"This isn't anything to do with Fury," Steve says.

"Then maybe you shouldn't invoke him with every sentence," Tony bites out. "Does he hold your dick while you go to the bathroom, too?"

"You—" Steve blurts, angry and unable to finish his sentence.

"Sorry," Tony says, "no, you hold his. I forgot."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Steve says, slightly aware he's shouting.

Tony, infuriatingly, doesn't shout, but flirts with a few decibels underneath the definition. "That constitutes a response, big guy. Did the special sauce Erskine dosed you with completely skip your brain?"

"Don't speak ill of the dead," Steve flings back. "Or is your celebrated wit only compromised of the lowest type of humor?"

"Lowest form of wit is better than none."

"Find me anyone who truly prizes humor above honesty and I'll buy dinner for everyone."

"Sorry," Tony says, "they all died out in the ice age, with you."

"Hm, insults, yeah, they absolutely help in keeping you safe from a psycho that wants you dead," Steve gripes. "Tell you what, as soon as we find them, we'll tie them to a chair and you can insult them to death."

"Yeah, what would you do? Feed them coffee and cake while you lecture them about human rights and goodness?" Tony shakes his head dismissively. "Let me know how that works out for you."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Steve says. "Sit back and let everyone else do the hard work."

"Excuse me," Tony yells, his restraint blowing hard. He starts to circle Steve, waving his hands uselessly; Steve turns on the spot to keep up with him. "You're the one who let Fury dictate this stupid lock-down. I'd be out there fighting with you all if I could—"

"Yeah, because you're doing all you can regardless of that," Steve shouts back. His stomach is twisted in knots — he hates conflict. But maybe this is what Tony needs. From the very beginning, and their first fights in the helicarrier before the Chitauri incident, their conflict had eventually made clearing the air easier. They didn't have any dislike to hide, and dislike always evaporated in the face of the mutual respect they cultivated.

That Steve had thought they had cultivated, anyway. Tony lying to him, to cover up the death threat, has shaken his foundations. Maybe some of this anger is that: real anger.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Tony spits.

"Well," Steve says, and pushes forward even though it's hard to say, "you could be actively doing something to find who's trying to put air holes in you, instead of moping like a child on the stairs, kicking your heels because you're not allowed to be part of the game—"

"Moping— I was waiting for SHIELD to approve someone from my headquarters to come by and deliver the reports I need to do my work. Fury or his little trained flying monkeys can't stop me from doing that. Or should I grind my company into the ground and let thousands of civilians become unemployed overnight?"

"I've seen your employees run around the mansion like caged rats chasing you down to give you those reports," Steve says, "so what's changed now?"

"Now I know how close I am to losing my company," Tony says, and all his anger flees in that moment. Steve breathes hard, still caught on the edge with his, and he stares as Tony stills, and shrugs, uselessly. "Now I know how close I am to losing everything."

Steve stares. He scans Tony's face and swallows down the twinge at how bad he feels for pushing Tony into saying something so raw and honest. "We'll stop them," Steve says, his voice low. "You won't lose anything."

"Apart from maybe my sanity," Tony mutters, scuffing his shoes on the floor almost sheepishly.

"We already broke that years ago," Steve tells him, faux-cheerfully, hip checking him companionably and nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. "C'mon."

In most reasonable society, Steve thinks, the fact that two members of the group were having an argument that's clearly been resolved due to said members walking through a doorway amicably — as opposed to, say, bitchfighting out in the main hall (which, alas, had happened a few times in the beginning of their working together, but that was only because let's suit up and go a few rounds was never going to lead to coffee and donuts) — that said argument might be politely ignored.

"Mom and dad finished bickering, then?" Cage snarks, loudly. Tony bares his teeth and leans in and tries to snag a handful of Cage's bag of chips. Cage floors him with a look. "I've broken fingers for less, Stark."

Tony shoots him a look. "I know where you sleep," he sulks, and crosses around to the other side of the table. Steve goes to the fridge to see what's left over — fighting of any kind gives them all an appetite, and Steve's physically and mentally tired.

"I sleep naked," Cage says. "Just saying. You might want to skip that mental scarring."

"Hey," Tony calls over to Steve, "you owe us dinner, by the way?"

Steve pauses, mid-reach to a saran-wrapped sandwich. "Cage prizes honesty above humor."

"I meant Spider-Man," Tony says, wiggling his fingers at the superhero hanging upside down from the ceiling.

"I do what now?" Spider-Man complains. "I like to be productive, but it helps to know about it. Imagine if I started doing good deeds without noticing. How could I brag then?"

"Spider-Man values honesty above humor," Steve says, but even he can hear the slight wobble in his own voice.

"Nah," Tony says. "I can prove it. Hey, Spidey, what's your real identity?"

Spider-Man tilts his head like he's thinking about it. "Do I get free dinner if I lie?"

"Yup," Tony says. Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but he can't be too angry. Not when Tony's grinning at him like that.

"Cool. I'm Batman."

Tony points at Spider-Man, then at Steve. Steve rolls his eyes and reaches for the phone. "If I'm paying for it," Steve grouches, "we're having Chinese."

Tony arches him a small look, but doesn't call him out on the fact that Chinese food is Tony's favorite, not Steve's. "You know, you can get JARVIS to do that for you. He already knows your credit card number and our usual order."

"How is that safe," Steve mutters, but puts the phone down. He opens his mouth to make the command, but JARVIS speaks before he can.

"Sir, the Stark Industries' employee with your files is at the door," JARVIS' voice echoes through the room.

Tony makes a move to go, but Carol slips out of her seat, bodily getting in his way. "Jan and I have got this one, Tony," she says, trying to be kind, but Tony's a genius — there's no way her protective tactics are going over his head. "You always hire the cutest guys," she adds, fanning herself with her hand. "And they always go gaga for the suit." She snaps at the spandex, and winks lasciviously at Tony.

Tony doesn't even watch her sashay out, which speaks volumes as to his mental state at the moment. Steve covertly watches him as he squints up at the nearest camera. Tony keeps telling him that JARVIS is an AI and Steve can't hurt his feelings by not looking at him, but it feels odd not to address the commands to something. "JARVIS," Steve says, "can you order the usual Chinese takeout for us? Take the money from my account."

"Of course, Captain," JARVIS says.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Steve says, even though that's apparently unnecessary too. As far as Steve sees it, manners can never go out of fashion.

"He insisted on handing you the files personally," Carol singsongs as she shepherds in the Stark employee with Tony's files.

"Ugh, I do hate being handed things," Tony grumbles.

"Here's an idea," Cage says. "The guy hands it to me."

"I can roll with that," Tony says, looking at Cage admiringly.

"And then I punch you in the face with it," Cage finishes.

"On second thoughts," Tony says, "I love being handed things. You're very persuasive, Luke. Have you thought about going into diplomacy? Your negotiation skills are topnotch."

"They work on you," Cage mutters.

Steve tilts his head at the Stark employee holding a bundle of tablets, recognition sparking. "Tony," he says, slowly, "didn't your courier guy use to work for SHIELD? Did you poach him from Fury?"

"Your crazy eidetic memory," Tony says, like it's a bad thing, but he's shaking his head fondly and actually looking a little jealous.

"Yeah, you're the guy Tony caught playing Galaga," Steve says, moving forward and taking the tablets from him.

The guy looks at Steve sheepishly.

"Galaga guy," Tony chips in, "that's what I call him." He looks pleased at Steve taking the tablets — right up until the moment Steve starts poking them, in case there's an incendiary device attached, or a piece of paper. Alas, the devices are clean — it stands to reason the mystery of who wants Tony dead couldn't be solved this easily.

"Yeah, that was me," Galaga guy says, and squints at Tony, "I do have a name."

"Good on you," Tony chirps, grabbing the tablets from Steve, and starting to pace as he scrolls through the top one.

"Um," Steve says, "no offense, uh, Galaga guy, but why would you poach the one worker from under Fury's eye that you know goofs off?"

"No offense taken," Galaga guy says, hopping over to Tony as Tony holds out the first tablet impatiently. He starts to pace behind Tony, waiting to be handed back each tablet.

"Think of it this way," Tony says, digitally signing off something else and putting that tablet into Galaga guy's arms. "Who do you hire? The conscientious guy who follows the law to the letter, or the lazy guy?"

"The conscientious guy," Steve says, automatically.

"Wrong," Tony says, still moving as he scans through the third tablet, "the lazy guy. The lazy guy will always go for the sleekest solution. I don't want my problems solved. I want them solved so people have to extend the least possible effort to use whatever it is I'm making next. The lazy person will look for the way to solve a problem that involves the least effort." He looks up from the tablet and grins. "That's the best kind of person to hire. Fury doesn't know what he's missing."

Galaga guy looks pleased, even though Tony haphazardly throws the next tablet onto his pile.

"Except you," Tony tells Galaga guy. "I only hired you to piss Fury off."

Galaga guy thinks about it and shrugs. "I still get paid."

Tony clucks in the back of his throat, shooting Galaga guy an impressed look. "I like you."

Galaga guy shrugs again.

"You hire strangely," Steve says, "and— hey, you know what I said about being near windows," he adds, automatically, as Tony's pacing carries him near the large windows of the kitchen.

"That I should do it every day?" Tony says, mirroring Steve's own words from two weeks ago.

"I said don't," Steve corrects.

"I think you should listen to him," Spider-Man says, dropping into a crouch onto the kitchen tiles. Even Carol's gone still, like she does when something big is about to happen. She opens her mouth to shout in warning, but Spider-Man gets there first. "Tony! Get down!"

Steve only has time to look out beyond the windows, and to see the flash of a red target light, and then the windows explode inwards.

Chapter 5

Tony highly regrets that he has a life where he can identify explosions just from the sound and feel of them.

Although, he reflects, as he tries awkwardly to get to his feet, even if he hadn't chosen this new path of philanthropy and errant do-gooding, there still would have been that first explosion in Afghanistan.

He's finding it hard to move. The reason why, above the high-pitched whine in his ears, slowly becomes clear, and any notion that he's had over the last few weeks that his plan regarding the death threats is over-the-top, overly melodramatic and completely unnecessary is nixed in one motion.

Because Galaga guy is lying over him, and bleeding out.

Tony's heart lurches and he scrambles forward, his palm sliding and slipping and catching on a hundred different glass fragments as he reaches out to him. He kneels on a larger piece of glass and barely feels it. The only thing running through his brain is this is my fault, alongside the ever present, how can I fix this.

"Tony, Tony." Someone's yelling his name in the background. He's not even sure who it is. He catches a glimpse of black and yellow streaking past his eyes, and a gust of wind — Ms. Marvel heading out to see who attacked them, then — but beyond that, everything that makes even remote sense is gone from Tony's mind.

Galaga guy is spluttering now, trying to talk.

"Easy now," Tony mutters, cradling the man's head in one hand, "don't try and speak." Someone kneels down next to Tony with a first-aid kit. Jan. Her soft eyes are brimming with tears as she fumbles out some gauze.

"JARVIS," someone says, "patch the comms through your speakers. Carol, what's down there?"

"Can't see a damn thing, Cage. Whoever did this, they were professionals."

"Had to have been a range hit," Spider-Man adds, all trace of his usual joking tone gone. "The security systems are active. They had to have hit us from at least 400 feet. Some sort of resonance dampener."

It has to be bad, if Spider-Man is using technobabble.

Carol's voice breaks through next. "JARVIS, can you boost your signal? See if your scans can reach a wider perimeter?"

"Attempting this, Ms. Marvel," JARVIS intones.

Tony pushes his spare hand down on one of Galaga guy's bigger gashes. The blood is warm under his palm. His vision blurs. All he can see is red. Blood red. The high pitch of the blast still ricochets around his skull. The blame follows after it, loud and unavoidable.

"You damn idiot," Tony mutters, the sense memory of hands on his back, someone shoving him out of the way of the blast, and Galaga guy had been the only one nearby. He pushes down on Galaga guy's wound as hard as he can. "You stupid— Why would you jump over me? You should have gotten out of the way, you—" His words falter, and he shakes his head.

"Naw," Galaga guy manages, "how do I get paid if my boss dies, hm?"

"Try not to speak, honey," Jan tells Galaga guy, and Tony swallows down a rush of bile that tastes like blood and fire.

Galaga guy is unconscious by the time the paramedics get there. Logan, rising to the occasion, apparently sped through the security procedures faster than anyone ever has. Paranoid as ever, he stands over the paramedics with his claws out, threatening any of them that come anywhere near him that if they're part of the plot, they'll live to regret it, and then they'll die, and Logan knows people and can ensure the cycle gets repeated.

They have to pry Galaga guy from Tony's hands, and Tony sinks down into the glass mess, batting away people that try to help him. It's only when Carol comes back and hisses "Get away from the window before they come back and try again" that he can make himself move. It's only after, when he's sat once again on the mansion's front staircase, a paramedic tentatively dabbing at his wounds and tweezing glass splinters from his face, that he realizes she said it for his benefit. There isn't an idiot in the world who would hang around and try and hit the Avengers again with Cage and Ms. Marvel and Captain America on the rampage.

A little while later, Steve comes back into the mansion. He's breathing a little hard, so goodness knows how far he's gone trying to find who did it. The grim set to his face spells out that he failed finding the perpetrators.

"Thank god you're okay," Steve breathes, heading over to the stairs. Steve dismisses the paramedic with what's apparently a universal get out of here gesture, but then replaces himself where the paramedic was. The paramedic even surrendered her tweezers to him — Steve takes Tony's chin with a much firmer grip and starts work on removing the fragments. "Are you okay?"

Tony blinks. The motion is a lot like moving underwater. He slides his gaze left to meet Steve's worried expression, and the effort feels monumental. "They hurt Galaga guy," Tony says. Even his voice doesn't seem like it belongs to him. The only thing that feels real is Steve's hand on his chin, anchoring him to the planet's surface. Without it, he feels like he might fall off into space. "They hurt him really bad, and they were after me—"

"Sshhh," Steve says, nonsensically.

Oh, it's not nonsensical, Tony realizes. He must have gotten a bit loud, or a bit fast, or something else horrible. He feels miserable, and that he deserves to be miserable, and he feels like a loser and he feels disconnected, and he really hates feeling one thing at a time, so all of these things at once — it's like someone's come across and ripped his flesh off, exposing the bones and organs underneath, and the world should be pointing and laughing, and instead, he has Galaga guy's blood on his hands, and that blood won't ever come off, it won't ever—

"Breathe," Steve says, slow and certain, and like it's a spell, Tony does.

The pressure pushing down on his spine, compressing him down into a tight coil of anger, lessens a tiny amount. Just enough to breathe, to exist, and to loathe himself a little more. Screw the robotics; self-loathing is his real power.

"This isn't your fault," Steve says, firm, like he believes it. Maybe he does. Tony looks at him. He feels like he's aged a hundred years in a night. Like he might finally be able to understand what Steve's going through.

Steve's staring at him, like he's waiting for an answer. "Right," Tony says, meaning, leave me alone and I'm not worth it.

"You're not. Someone's gone insane and fixated on you; you didn't choose to become a target. It's not your fault. We're going to find them, and we're going to hold them responsible for what they have done. It's not you."

Tony looks at Steve blankly. It's only words. Tony needs to fix this. He gets a mental flash of it being Steve lying in his hands. Steve's blood on his palms. Steve dying to save Tony. It hurts, like a stab wound to the gut.

Tony's a futurist. It's his job to look into the future, to anticipate everything. He anticipated something like this but not enough, not quickly enough. And the future is as clear as ice now. If Tony stays, someone else will get hurt. And who would it be next? Peter Parker, the sweet funny guy in R&D? Maybe it'll be Steve, so he can wrap around all the nightmares in his head and bring them bursting into painful, acute life. Or maybe it'll be sweet, innocent Jan who loves to smile at flowers and tell Tony off and insist she's teleconferencing Betty Ross when she's secretly sexting Hank—

Tony manages to get vertical with a second to spare before throwing up. Steve's hand is smooth and heavy on Tony's back, and Tony wants to lean back into Steve and take all the strength he's offering. Steve, who's making shushing sounds, and taking most of Tony's weight on himself. Steve, who's always there. Steve, who Tony finally realizes in this moment that he's achingly, wholly in love with, that he has been for the longest time.

Maybe even from the very beginning. When Steve flung those barbs at him, about him being nothing more than a glorified tin can, Tony should have noticed that Steve's words had hurt him.

Tony only ever lets himself be emotionally hurt by people he gives a crap about.

No, maybe Tony's always been in love with Steve. Steve might even feel the same way too. Tony remembers the heady feel of Steve on top of him, pressing him down into the mat. The heavy glances they've been sharing. The dizzy intimate moment before someone tried to shoot him at StarkPark. If Tony pushes, opens his heart just an inch, Tony's pretty sure Steve would slot into his life like the best kind of present.

Steve, who would open-heartedly love him back, if Tony gave him even half a chance.

Steve, who will be hurt if Tony doesn't get the hell away from all of them.

And there is only one way to do it.

Pretend like hell he isn't going to run away, and then... execute Plan: Steel Corpse.

---

The plan, of course, is simple at its heart:

Someone wants Tony dead. So he will die.

Plan: Steel Corpse has always been an idea in reserve. A few years back, Tony got a death threat from someone less sneaky than the current villain hankering after his blood — back then, the idiot had proclaimed the death threat on YouTube. Tracking him down had been embarrassingly easy.

But it had sparked the idea in the back of Tony's mind. He is a futurist. His skill is predicting the future. And Tony has pissed enough people off that, one day, he was going to piss off someone who couldn't be subdued easily.

What Tony would need, in this highly probable situation, is time. Time to find out who's behind it. Resources, in order to take out whoever is involved, and to ensure they couldn't threaten him again. Opportunity, to do all this in the open without being in danger.

So he created the Steel Corpse. He's been working on the concept off and on for about five years now. The idea's pretty simple: Tony's been faking scientific tests and video blogs about the phenomenon of a virologist under his employ falling foul of a mutant virus which is eating them alive.

As Tony's fake story goes:

To suspend his employee's life, Tony created an Iron Man-type suit with inbuilt life support. Alas, the virus kept eating the employee, and as an unforeseen side effect, the employee has been fused into the suit and cannot be extracted from it, and has thus named themselves Steel Corpse. Steel Corpse is dying, but much more slowly than they would have died without the suit.

Obviously, or so Tony labored the point in the videos he's mocked up over the last few years, Tony would keep the employee away from most people he knows because if the virus got into the mutant population, there could be devastation.

The suit keeps Steel Corpse alive. Without it, the virus would escape, and the employee would die.

There's at least four years now of reports and videos, ready to be leaked once Steel Corpse needs to appear.

Of course, Tony himself will be in the Steel Corpse suit, when the time arises. He won't be able to remove the suit in public, or whoever wants him dead will know he's alive. That's going to cause him some substantial pain and damage — human flesh isn't made to wear metal consistently. The suit's not quite ready to go yet — he can get water and nutrients in, but waste products can't get out, and that's seriously not an attractive thought — but Tony's sure he can at least fix that part quickly, if not as gracefully as he would like. Let's just say if he ends up getting locked up by SHIELD for any length of time, it's not going to be pretty.

It's a price Tony's willing to pay to ensure whoever wants him dead is out of the way.

Still, he can't bring himself to activate the plan just yet. He needs more information. There are still a few more false trails to plant, and considering the tech of who hit them, Tony's going to have to be even cleverer than usual about it. Plus, Tony doesn't feel like he can do a thing until he knows if Galaga guy is going to live or—

Anyway. For the moment, he's in the right place.

Even if it feels like he still has Galaga guy's blood on his hands.

Steve, of course, is the one to come and find him in his lab. It's always Steve. It always has been Steve. For so long, Tony's thought of Steve as the one person in the world with the capacity to hurt him to the quick, in a way no one has been able to since his father died. Now Tony knows for sure that there are other feelings, meshed into Tony as deeply as Iron Man is; Steve is wound up and around his heart as deeply and necessary as his arc reactor.

"Is this—" Steve starts, moving in to stand behind Tony's chair, one hand resting on the back, a millimeter away from Tony's shoulder. He swallows back something he's about to say. "Galaga guy's vital signs? You managed to hack the hospital from here?"

Tony makes a noncommittal sound. Even now, their conversations still seem to begin half-way through. Like they don't ever really finish conversations, so they're just continuing from where they left off. "It's funny," Tony says, feeling at the same time that nothing will ever be funny again, "we translate life into these electronic signals." He jabs his finger at the display. Galaga guy's faltering heart beat. "When your heart stops, the waves stop, the screen goes blank. In the end, you're dead, and even the light is an illusion."

"Very philosophical," Steve says. "Is this the same as one of those if a tree falls in a wood riddles? They did the rounds of the trenches, back in the war, over and around again. I gotta say, I'm a straightforward kind of guy. Those things never made much sense to me." Steve settles in, leaning on the edge of the desk behind Tony, keeping his hand close to Tony's shoulder.

Tony, embarrassingly, feels better with it there. He hates that he does. The anger's quick to boil in his stomach. Or maybe it never went away, Tony thinks, with a twinge of new respect for Bruce, wherever he is. It's a lot easier at times like this to empathize with constant anger. "So who's next?" Tony asks, biting out the question, his eyes locked to the stuttering light of Galaga guy's vital signs.

"What do you mean?"

"Who gets hurt next just for knowing me?" Tony asks. It should be brave, asking outright the one question that's bothering him, but it's not. It's cowardly. It's one more chunk of armor, to hold between him and something that might matter. "You gonna take a bullet for me, Captain?"

Steve bristles, like he does any time Tony calls him Captain in a situation where Steve's trying to be a pal. "Benefit of hanging out with the super-enhanced," Steve says. "I'd recover pretty quickly."

"Then someone else." Tony thought he had been coping well, but he obviously isn't. The anger bubbles through him like a volcano exploding. His insides are lava and the world is wrong and Tony can't fix it. His hands ache, and he flexes them. There's something missing from them. Alcohol, his brain supplies, and then, NO from the part of him that's been fighting that so hard, and then his hands push out almost of their own accord, smashing into the panel he's been staring at.

Tony specially designed the glass of his monitors to survive a certain amount of force. The crack sliding up, creating a gap in Galaga guy's heartbeat, says that Tony's exceeded that amount. The heel of his hand stings. Tony looks down at it mutely. Another scratch. More blood. Like it's someone else thinking it in his skull, and Tony's a distance away, listening in, a stranger to his own mind. Tony thinks, that works, and he holds up his hands experimentally, that same, strange, distant thought going, maybe you can shatter that glass in two.

Apparently Steve can see the crazy on Tony's face, because he leans in, catching Tony's hand before he can decide to move it again. Tony stares at his hand, caught between Steve's, and can't decipher what he's looking at for a moment; it's all a jumble of fingers and skin, and he can't compile a sum of the parts. The world lurches. No, that's just Steve, spinning him around in the chair, crouching down on the ground, looking up at Tony earnestly.

It's nearly enough for him to be able to ignore the unsteady beeps in the background.

"This isn't your fault, Tony," Steve says, in his low, serious voice. His eyes hold on Tony's, so very earnestly, like he thoroughly believes what he's saying. He probably does. Steve's always had a problem in thinking too much of people. "No, don't scoff. It's not your fault that this is happening. It could happen to any of us. We're all targets."

"It's not happening to any of us," Tony says, "it's happening to me. But not even me — people around me are coming up cold. So that's why I'll ask it again. Who next? Who do I have to see hurt next because of me?"

"This isn't your fault," Steve repeats.

"You're so god-damned stubborn," Tony mutters.

"There's a saying we used to have back in the 40s. I think you guys still know it now. Something about a pot, and a kettle, and the relative blackness of both."

"All my pots and kettles are stainless steel," Tony says promptly.

"Same concept, then," Steve says, annoyingly placid. He detaches one of his hands from around Tony's, and reaches up, cupping Tony's cheeks. His fingers are warm. Tony pushes into the contact automatically; he can't help himself. "It's not your fault."

"Steve—" Tony starts.

"It's not your fault."

"You're like a robot. I could program JARVIS to do this for you to save you some time and effort."

"It's not your fault. I'll keep saying it until you say it back," Steve says. His eyes are so very blue. Tony can't help the shiver that crawls over his skin. Steve's fingers tighten lightly on feeling it. If Tony wasn't sitting down, he might have had to find a chair.

"It's not my fault," Tony repeats, rolling his eyes.

Steve squints at him. "I can tell when you're pacifying me."

"I'm sunk. I'm spinning out. I can't even drink." Tony shrugs helplessly. "One of us should be at peace."

"With you in danger?" Steve questions rhetorically, his voice rasping a little. "How could I ever be at peace?" He still has Tony's hurt hand in his left hand, and he turns it slightly, smoothing his thumb over Tony's pulse, like he's checking Tony's still alive. His right hand is still on Tony's cheek, in a mirror of how close they'd been in the observatory.

Tony swallows, almost waiting for the interruption to come. But it doesn't, and the pad of Steve's thumb catches on the corner of his mouth, gentle and scorching, sparking Tony's nerves into a heady awareness. The entire universe contracts down onto that feeling, and he desperately, desperately wants to kiss Steve. To see if Steve will kiss him back. To know what he tastes like. To know how it feels to press himself up against Steve and take everything he wants from him. To be able to give everything in return.

A thousand things collide. Most significantly he thinks no, this would make everything worse in a hundred different ways. Even though Tony's pretty sure Steve loves him in a certain way, maybe it's not this way. He doesn't know for sure if Steve would respond, and if he did, would it be returned interest? Or would it be pity, or desperation? If it turns out Steve is insane and does return the same feelings, and goodness knows there's been enough clues of it over the last couple of weeks, Tony doesn't know if he would be able to carry out the only plan he has where he's sure the Avengers will be safe. One touch from Steve with unmistakable intention might be too much to take, an addiction Tony's not strong enough to give up.

More than anything, if it was a reciprocated thing, it would be a cruel thing to do considering Tony's plan. It would perhaps be the worst thing Tony's ever done. It would take the apocalypse for Tony to do that to him.

Steve's not privy to Tony's internal monologue though. Steve doesn't know why they can't.

So it shouldn't be such a surprise when Steve leans up and kisses him.

Tony's halfway through the kiss before he really realizes what's going on, that Steve's hand has moved from his cheek to the nape of his neck, that Steve has dragged him down for their mouths to meet in the middle, that Steve's mouth fits against his like they were made to fit like this. Tony's mouth slackens in shock, and Steve reads it like it's an invitation — and really, Tony's body is saying yes faster than his brain can catch up to it — and he deepens the kiss.

For a few, precious seconds, Tony lets himself sink into the kiss. It's weakness, pure and simple, but the world is cruel. This is something Tony can't keep. He might have been happier never knowing it could be his. Now he knows Steve is possible, and he still can't have him for keeps? It hurts. So much he wouldn't be able to breathe even if Steve wasn't stealing his breath away.

His injured hand is caught up in Steve's left hand, Steve's fingers lacing through his. Steve's hand is at the base of Tony's skull; it holds him still and steady. Steve kisses like he approaches life, wholeheartedly, earnestly, warm and thorough, and Tony's burning with it. His spare hand reaches out, and tangles in Steve's white t-shirt for a brief second, and for that second, Tony lets his eyes close. He lets himself pretend that this is a happy conclusion to a lifelong riddle, that this is where his life has always been headed towards.

But it's not. It can't be. Tony releases the cotton wound between his fingers, spreads his hand into a star, and he pushes Steve away.

Steve pulls away. For a fraction of a moment, he looks so happy; Tony's heart lurches, and his body spins giddily, and it takes all of his strength not to kiss him again. Then he sees Tony's expression, and that happiness falters. He pulls his hands away and they fall loosely at his sides. Tony tries not to track their movement. The instant Steve's skin isn't against his, he feels a keen sense of loss.

"I—" Tony starts, and pushes his lips together. He can still feel Steve against them. He swallows, and looks straight at Steve. "I'm sorry. I can't."

Steve's eyebrows quirk down a little. "Are you involved with someone else?"

"What?" Tony blinks. "Am I— No, of course not. There's been no one since Pepper."

"That's what I thought," Steve says. He straightens instead of moving back down into a crouch, and his hands flex like he doesn't know what to do with them now. He frowns a little. "I guess I've been reading things wrong."

"I just can't, not with this whole threat fooey hanging over everything," Tony says, gesturing vaguely with his good hand.

"So you're what, being noble? Tony, I'm basically indestructible. If there was anyone that you could risk things with, it's me. So if it's dangerous is your reasoning here? Bite me." Steve shrugs. "If you don't want me, that's something different. That's something I can roll with. But Tony?"

Tony squints, wondering if Steve's about to launch a trick question. He stays silent and tries not to stare at Steve's mouth. Now he knows how good it feels to have Steve's mouth on his, it's going to be much more difficult a task than it has been. "Yes?"

"I don't think you mean can't. I think you mean won't," Steve says, quietly. Like it's difficult to say. "We both know what almost happened in training. In the observatory. I think you want this. Want me. And for some stupid reason you're denying it."

"No, I'm not—" Tony starts, and he tilts his chin up, trying to be defiant. He's just not sure who or what he's especially denying at this exact moment in time. "I'm saying no. It's allowed."

"Okay," Steve says. "Okay. I'm not looking to be in a one-way relationship. I'm not that guy. I've read things a certain way, felt things that way, but I won't punch you if you don't want it too. That's cool. It happens. Especially in situations where we're basically living in each other's pockets. You tell me you don't want me, and I'll back down and get over it. We're adults and we can behave like adults."

"Great," Tony says. "Let's get on with that."

"But I need one thing from you to do that," Steve says. Tony can't give a name to the emotion in Steve's voice and the look on his face. He can't place it, and that's weird; Tony always knows what Steve is feeling. Although, apparently not. Perhaps Tony is perpetually blind to all who care for him. It would be a believable blind spot to have. "Call it a favor for an old soldier if you need to justify it to yourself."

"What's the favor?" Tony asks.

"Tell me the truth. Tell me you don't really want this, and I'll leave you alone." Steve shrugs. "That's all."

And oh, Tony knows that expression now. It's bravado and it's fire and it's Steve, knowing Tony so well, and beating him at his own game. Tony's heart swells with how much he loves this man.

And Galaga guy's fragile heartbeat is the soundtrack to that fervent emotion, and Tony cracks a little under the weight of it all.

"I can't," Tony manages, getting it out despite the knot in his throat.

Steve swallows visibly . A couple of layers of bravado wash away, but he nods. "Okay," he says, a little quietly. "Fine. Water under the bridge. I'm sorry for giving you some extra stress on top of everything you've had to deal with. Just forget about it."

Something deep in Tony lurches at the hollow tone to Steve's voice and the knowledge that he put it there, and he finds himself blurting, almost desperately. "I can't tell you that I don't want you," he admits.

Steve steps forward, the beginning notes of hope starting to show on his face.

"You do want me too," Steve says, his voice faltering, breaking on the last syllable, but his gaze holding strong.

Tony shrugs, helplessly. "I can't lie to you. Not straight to your face." He looks up at Steve, feeling hopeless and helpless, and apparently that's shining full force on his face, because a smile breaks through the tension that descended on Steve's face at Tony's first I can't.

"Then—" Steve starts.

"But I can't," Tony repeats, looking up at Steve, his expression hard. "I can't— It's hard enough with how much I feel for you now. You're my best friend, Steve. You're—" Everything, he mentally finishes, and he can't say it. He takes a deep breath, pressure building behinds his eyes, and he hates how he feels, and he hates everything he's going through and he hates that even now, he can feel Galaga guy's blood on his hands. "I can't go through all this and lose you. I can't take it. Someone wants me dead. Someone who can get to me wherever I am wants me dead. Someone that desperate would do anything. I can't."

"Okay," Steve says.

"It's just—" Tony stops. "What?"

"Okay. You're not ready at the moment." Steve shrugs, like it's not a big deal. "I can wait."

"That's— It's— What?"

Steve laughs at Tony's dumbfounded expression, but it's not mocking; it's fond and warm and familiar. "I'm not going to push you. You're not ready. But when you are?" He shrugs. "You know where to find me." He smiles, turns on his heel, and starts heading to the door. "We're having a TV night tonight," Steve calls, without turning back. "You should come. There's lots of cold Chinese food. JARVIS didn't cancel the order during all the chaos."

"I—" Tony starts. Steve pauses at the door, and looks over his shoulder. Steve smiles and for a moment, Tony's startled into an honest smile in return. "I'll be there," Tony says, surprised to find he means it. They both hold the smile, until Steve pats the doorframe and leaves.

Tony watches him go. For a few precious seconds, he forgets about Galaga guy and the fact his injuries are all his fault. He holds that peace around him like a blanket as he turns back to the cracked display.

He can't change the past. But maybe... Tony touches his mouth, and can't help the smile.

Maybe there's hope for the future.

---

Despite the invitation from Steve, Tony's still sheepish when he trudges up the stairs, slinks through the kitchen by hugging the wall, grabs the carton of Chinese from the fridge with his name scrawled on it in Steve's neat writing, and sidles into the TV room.

It's Wednesday night, meaning at some point there will be the fight over CSI and Grey's Anatomy, and Tony finds himself automatically scanning the room for the remote control. It's in Clint's hand. Tony usually sits either in the middle of the couch, or on the right. Both spots are open — Steve's not there yet. Carol and Jan take the armchairs on either side of the 3-seater sofa. Clint likes to sit on the floor. Luke's not always there, but he is today, on the left of the sofa. Logan's not there, but he never is. He's either out skulking in one of the local bars, or teaching at the mutant school. One day the divided loyalty is going to be an issue, but it hasn't been yet.

Tony takes the right-hand seat on the sofa, even though it'll make trying to grab the remote from Clint much more difficult at 9pm, and sits down and opens his food. And then realizes he didn't even pick up chopsticks.

"Here." Tony starts as Steve drops into the seat next to him and passes him a paper-wrapped pair of chopsticks. A number one sign that Steve's being extra nice to him: sometimes Steve goes on a kick where he makes them use chopsticks they can wash, instead of the disposable ones. Plus, Jan really likes the disposable ones to use as mini stakes for her tiny herb garden. They don't judge. Firstly, Jan's nice. Secondly, Avengers do seem to pick up some odd hobbies every now and again. Steve once took up knitting. Tony regrets mocking him relentlessly; the sweater Steve made him for Christmas was actually really comfortable.

Tony settles back, trying to focus on what they're watching — some weird period drama — but it's pretty hard to concentrate. Sofas aren't meant to house three large superheroes, and Steve's thigh, warm against his, is just about the most distracting thing in the whole universe.

He eats his chow mein and tries not to think about the heat against his leg. And how much he likes it. And how easy it would be to lean over, to sink against Steve's side.

"What are we watching?" Tony asks, when whatever it is makes Steve laugh, and the movement makes his fingers clench reflexively into the chopsticks.

"Mad Men," Clint says, from the floor. "It's about the only thing we could all agree on. The girls like the plot. Cage and I like Christine Henderson and Christine Henderson's assets."

"She's got amazing knockers," Cage says, grinning and pointing as the actress in question sashays across the screen.

"I'll hurt you," Carol calls across, "and they'll never find the body."

Cage quirks a look at her. "You killing me might even be worth it, Danvers."

"Ugh," Carol says, but without too much feeling. "Why do we only have one TV, anyway? I thought you were rich, Tony."

"Ridiculously," Tony says. He considers it. "It's probably for the same reason that the Enterprise only has one bathroom."

"The Enterprise is a spaceship on the show Star Trek," Jan says to Steve, trying to be helpful.

"I've been around a few years now," Steve says, visibly irritated. "I know what Star Trek is."

Tony gives him a weird side-look, because he didn't really think that Steve had had opportunity yet to be made aware of Star Trek — fighting evil is a terribly time consuming pastime, after all. Steve gives him an almost defiant side-glance. Tony shrugs and doesn't say anything.

He stays quiet through the rest of Mad Men, which seems like a very aptly titled show for them to watch, and then when the end credits roll, Clint says, "Man, how hard am I about to get trampled? I probably should make someone buy me dinner first."

They all look down at him.

Clint waggles the remote. "Nearly 9pm on a Wednesday? Hello? If I don't let this go, Cap and Tony'll squish me in the chaos. It'll be like the Wildebeest from Lion King all over again."

"I know that reference," Steve mutters, confirming Tony's suspicion that his Star Trek bravado is fake.

Tony edges a look at Steve, and then edges a look at the remote. If he lurched across Steve's knees, there's a slim chance he could grab the remote first, but Steve could grab him and then it'll be another of their stupid remote tussles and oh, god, if they have one of their cushion flinging fights, Tony'll end up giggling like a teenage girl and really, it's not the time for that.

He tilts his body, to see how Steve's going to react, but Steve doesn't tense up at all. Which is strange. Tony doesn't really want to lurch for the remote, though. He doesn't mind CSI, if he blanks out the moments of terribly bad science and mentally recasts the blonde second-in-command as Carol. Steve looks at Tony then, a small furrow between his brows. Tony shrugs lightly. Steve frowns. It's a weird stalemate.

Tony, feeling very peculiar, and so hyper aware of Steve that he can't breathe while he does it, reaches over and grabs the remote from Clint, pushing in the command to bring up CSI. Steve shoots him a surprised look, even as Clint and Cage start singing along to the theme tune after the brief dead body teaser at the beginning. Tony shrugs back at him.

The episode isn't completely annoying, and it's always fun to see how earnestly Steve watches the show. He cheers along the good guys and boos the villains like it's a pantomime. Sometimes, to all their amusement, he shouts at the screen. Clint joins him — this one is about an archer, and the actor's apparently holding the bow completely stupidly.

Jan snags the remote as the episode ends. No one fights Jan when she wants the remote, which is only terrible when there's a Sandra Bullock marathon on, because the Avengers have now somehow all sat through Miss Congeniality at least seventeen times each. Even Spider-Man, who isn't around for TV night a whole lot. Tony's amused at the thought that Spider-Man must avoid it because he thinks they only watch Miss Congeniality over and over.

Jan plays with the TV guide function, humming happily under her breath, and then she straightens in her seat, pointing at the screen, "Look! I solved all our Wednesday night woes! ABC+1 shows Grey's Anatomy an hour later."

"Lovely," Cage deadpans.

"Or we could get one of those TVs which records TV shows and we never have to have stupid fights," Carol says, "but ignore me, it's only a practical idea."

"We did get one of those," Tony says. "Jan filled the box up with Miss Congeniality."

"It's a classic," Jan says. "It's not my fault I can't remember which of the slots has the extended edition."

"I'm still not even sure there is an extended edition," Clint says.

"We're all way too ridiculously fond of you," Carol tells Jan. Jan beams.

"It's because I shrink more than I grow," Jan says. "You can't hate a tiny person. You're indoctrinated as a kid. Tinker bell, borrowers, Barbie and Ken — everyone's programmed to love pocket-sized people."

"That and you're adorable," Clint says. "Even Fury used adorable in your last annual report."

"Mm, if no one minds, I think I'll skip Grey's, get an early night," Steve says, getting to his feet. "I'm an old, old man after all."

"I don't blame you," Cage says. "Sometimes I feel like I'm risking my testicles when we watch it."

"I'm confident with my sexual identity," Tony says, shrugging placidly. "And I have no dignity left to lose. Bring mama the hot interns in white coats and scrubs."

"Well," Steve says, with an easy smile as he stretches, "I think I'm good. Besides..." He looks down at Tony, a strange smile twisting onto his face, "I think I've got enough unresolved sexual tension in real life, don't you?"

Tony stares, but Steve only waggles his eyebrows once and saunters out of the room, like he hasn't said anything odd at all. Tony follows him with his eyes until he goes, and then he turns to the wall and stares at the paint work behind the TV.

Because.

Because.

Oh, everything's bothersome for even existing. He can't even think of an appropriate curse. Tony's brain has fried.

He opens his mouth to say something, but his brain seems to have decided a vacation is a terribly good idea. He's aware he's probably moving his mouth like he's part guppy fish, but it hadn't occurred to him Steve would be so brazen or open about his interest like this. He'd assumed it would be something quiet between them. Something private until they were ready to talk about it.

Then again, Steve always goes for what he wants, and he plays for keeps.

Tony's sort of screwed. He should probably be unhappy with the concept.

"Um," Jan says, "did I hallucinate that?" She turns to Tony, her eyebrows making a bid to escape into her hairline. "Steve just hit on you. Right? Right?"

"Uh," Tony says, and blinks several times. He shrugs.

"Makes sense," Carol says.

"It does?" Cage says, sounding a little appalled.

"Sure," Carol says. "Takes someone being in danger to realize how much you feel for them, sometimes. It's not like this is completely out of nowhere."

"Pretty sure this is completely out of nowhere," Clint says, twisting up and joining the others in staring at Tony in open interest.

Tony's never really been the target of such focused interest before. Not over something like this. He's a playboy, dammit. Most of the time his social antics gain him an eyeroll and a sighed, oh, Tony. That's never stopped him from joining in from gossiping about the others. The Avengers are a strangely honorable family in that regard; like any family they gossip, but the Avengers tend to do it to each others' faces.

Tony's never really figured it a bad thing until now.

"No way is it out of nowhere," Jan says. "We don't just call them mom and dad to wind them up."

"I call them mom and dad to wind them up," Clint says.

"It winds me up," Tony says. "Especially when Spider-Man goes out of his way to insinuate I'm the mom."

"From what Logan told me about the other week in your sparring session," Carol says, and dammit, not all of the gossip does happen to their faces, "I don't think you want to deny that you're the mom."

"Tony Stark," Jan says, in a delighted voice, bounding up from her seat and settling in next to Tony, where Steve was. She tickles him. "Man of secrets."

"Do we really have to talk about this?" Tony whines, fighting the urge to cover his face. "There's nothing to talk about."

"So you accidentally made Steve trip and fall onto your crotch," Carol says, with a barely restrained smirk.

"I'm too young to hear this," Clint mutters.

"I'm not even—" Tony starts. "Carol Danvers, you're a terrible woman. A terrible one."

"Yup," Carol says, cheerfully agreeing. "I'm the worst."

"I hate you all," Tony lies.

"You like us really," Jan says. "But you loooooooove Steve."

"What, are we five years old?" Tony asks, as she fake swoons into his side.

"You are, if you missed that come on," Cage mutters. "Even I saw that he was basically inviting you upstairs, and I have a carefully cultivated Avengers-flirting blindness."

"Ugh," Tony says with feeling, and sinks lower in the seat, giving into the desire to hide his face with his hands. "I think whoever is targeting me is going after the wrong Avenger. I'm clearly the nicest."

"Doesn't matter," Carol says. The firmness in her tone, as opposed to her sing-song teasing, makes Tony lower his hands curiously. She has a steely look to her face now. "Tony, it doesn't matter which of us this idiot is targeting. You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. That's how it works when you're in a team. Sorry to mess with your lone wolf past, Stark, but you're part of the gang now. Nothing can destroy that. Not even death."

"I take it all back, Carol," Tony says. "You're not a terrible woman." He gets to his feet and for a moment semi-considers going after Steve. Then he mentally pictures Steve under his hands, covered in blood, and the desire somewhat withers and dies.

"No one's allowed to hurt you," Carol says, "except us."

"Grargh," Tony contributes, eloquently. "I'm going to bed." There's tittering from all around the room. "Alone," he grinds out, heading for the door.

"You're missing out," Jan calls after him. "I bet Cap can go all night."

"Come down to my lab later," Tony calls back. "I'll build you something to take your mind off Hank."

"Pervert!" Jan yells, but she sounds amused at the same time.

"You never offer to build me sex toys," Carol adds.

"I'm going to bed alone now," Tony yells, "and if I have terrible nightmares I'm blaming you."

He hurries away and up the stairs. The windows have their shutters down now, but he still feels oddly exposed as he heads for his bedroom.

Tony ends up there alone. But if he does slow down at the turning to Steve's room, well... he's only human.

Chapter 6

He's been called brave before, but Steve's never really believed it of himself until last night.

Even now, he can't quite believe he did it.

He doesn't regret it. He has a tiny amount of guilt for giving Tony something else to think about on top of everything, but if an Avenger waited for the right time to do anything, they'd be waiting forever. Their lives were never going to be anything but fraught, and you never know how long your life is going to be.

Steve thinks of Phil Coulson. Of all the men under his command that he's lost over the years. Of Bucky. And Gagala guy. He thinks of how close they've come to losing Avengers, and how close he's already come to losing Tony already from this fiasco.

If the bullet at StarkPark had been two seconds earlier. If Galaga guy hadn't pushed Tony out of the way. If, if, if—

Steve's brain isn't programmed to deal with what ifs and perhaps. He's a man of constants and reliability, yes sirs and orders. He leaves the future to the ones with the minds able to predict it. Tony's all the future Steve's ever really considered.

And there, right there, that had been the thought to do it. Tony had been right there, lost in thought, under Steve's fingers, and the thought had been so clear, so obvious. There's nothing in my future but you.

Combined with the unmistakable expression on Tony's face before the attack on the mansion, Steve hadn't been able to help himself.

Kissing Tony might have been the best decision of his entire life.

Even now, Steve can't help the smile. The moment might not have had a classic conclusion, but considering he was expecting Tony to lean back and give a variation of the it's not you, it' s me speech that Steve heard a hundred times through puberty, and considering Tony always defied expectations, that's how he rolls?

It was pretty damn perfect.

Topping it off with Tony's dumbfounded expression at his closing line of the night?

Yeah, the smile he can't quite seem to wipe from his face feels pretty justified. Life feels good. Even with the death threat situation hanging over them like a storm cloud.

The smile doesn't even drop when he takes out his favorite punching bag. Or when his enhanced strength accidentally crushes his showerhead. Or when he comes down into the Avengers kitchen in the midst of breakfast chaos.

Everyone else is awake. Carol grins and shakes her head at the sight of his smile. Maybe it looks a little creepy. Steve could care less. Probably. Possibly.

He slides in next to Clint, pouring himself some cereal as Tony staggers into the kitchen blearily to join them. Steve tries to hide his smile in the nearest box of Captain Crunch.

Logan, across the table, is tucking into a breakfast beer (he may not even know it's breakfast; the whole world runs on Wolverine o'clock for the sarcastic X-Man, and no one comes out completely whole if they try and correct him) and scowling at Steve. "Your smile's creepy. What happened, Cap, did you get laid last night?"

"No," Steve says, and can't hold in the smile even now. "And don't be lewd."

"That's like asking him not to breathe," Cage offers.

Steve shrugs at Logan, who narrows his eyes.

"If I wanted a side of cheerful with my food, I'd be hanging out with Rogue," Logan growls.

"Beer isn't food," Steve tells him, for what's probably the hundredth time.

"It's practically bread," Logan says. He eyeballs Tony, who's looking through the cabinets. "The beer's over here, Stark."

"Mm, you're the sweetest," Tony says, "but I'm looking for something better."

"Better than beer?" Logan says. "And we're confused why someone's trying so hard to kill you?"

"We've never said that," Carol says.

"I hate all of you," Tony says, hunting in another cabinet.

"Except Steve," Jan corrects.

"Except Steve," Tony automatically repeats. He shakes himself. "I mean, of course including Steve, I wouldn't want him to feel left out."

"I'd be okay with being left out," Steve says.

"Ugh," Tony says, catching his first proper glimpse of Steve. "Do you need to look so cheerful?" A little bit of color automatically crawls onto Tony's cheeks, and Steve's really not losing his smile any time soon.

"Don't need to," Steve says. "I like how much it's irritating Logan, though."

"What?" Logan snarls. "No, it's not," he adds, but it's too late — everyone turns a grin in his direction. "I hated you all before it was cool to," he growls, and leans over and grabs Steve's cereal before he can eat it.

Steve doesn't even feel irritated. He should definitely see if Tony's amenable to more kissing later, even if Tony's too frightened by the death threats for anything serious; kissing Tony has apparently done wonders to his mood.

"Someone stop Captain Britain from sending us tea," Tony calls, shoving another cabinet shut in desperation. "It doesn't fix everything."

"It fixed Doctor Who once," Jan says, dreamily.

"I once shoved a box in Deadpool's face," Logan says, also somewhat dreamily. "Good times."

"You did that?" Spider-Man whines. "He keeps blaming me."

"Guess it's hard to see with tea in your eyes," Carol says.

"Caffeine," Tony cries, and trots back to the table with a six-pack of cola in his hands "Oh, how I love you."

"Steve, Steve," Jan says, pointing at the cans of soda, "maybe you can take tips from them."

"He's learning lesson one," Spider-Man says, pointing at Steve. "He's turning the same color as the cans."

"Am not," Steve mutters, but he can feel the heat curling up beneath his cheeks, so he doesn't mutter it too loudly.

Tony edges a look at Steve, and then the edge of his cheeks turn a matching shade, which instantly cures the embarrassment Steve feels at the teasing.

"How is that chemical crap better than my beer?" Logan whines.

"Caffeine," Tony says, like it explains everything. "And why are you complaining? Doesn't this mean more beer for you?"

"Say what you like about his gregarious, rude, playboy ways," Logan says, gesturing at Tony with his beer, "the man's a genius."

"I say so all the time and no one listens," Tony says, melodramatically posing for a moment.

"Because we have bullshit filters," Carol tells him, "and we can't hear a word you say."

"Call Pepper, she'd love that ability," Tony says.

"Can you get caffeinated beer?" Jan wonders, eyeing her glass of orange juice like it might magically transform.

Considering last summer's strange breakfasts when Dr. Strange lived with them and not in his own creepy-ass mansion the other side of the city, it's not like it's an impossible occurrence.

"I always thought there was caffeine in alcohol," Cage says.

"Depending on the type, there is," Spider-Man says.

"What type?" Cage asks.

"Alcoholic-cola?" Spider-Man suggests.

"Jaegerbombs," Carol says, in a tone which sounds oddly wistful. "Vodka redbull. Coffee vodka."

"No wonder I run and hide in my lab all the time," Tony mutters, "there's too many of us. This noise is murder."

"You run and hide in your lab because you're a reclusive genius hermit who's afraid of commitment and growing too close to people in case you lose them, poppet," Jan tells him, leaning over and rubbing his hand sympathetically. "It's okay. We're socially maladjusted too."

"You are way too peppy for this time of the morning," Tony says. "It's unnatural." He side-eyes Steve. "Like your smile."

Steve simply smiles at him. He's with the best thing that's happened to him since waking up from his frozen sleep — no matter who ends up on the roster, the Avengers are his crazy, dysfunctional family. He doesn't want that to change.

It means it probably will, and soon. That's kind of how life seems to work. But until it does change, Steve's going to roll with it.

It's just a shame that things are about to change so much more quickly than even Steve will know how to cope with it all.

---

They've barely finished their own highly-differing ideas of what entails breakfast when the alert comes in.

Four more incoming signals, coming in to attack the Stark Industries' building on City Island.

Steve quietly says, "Assemble" — and the lights go down.

As the blue emergency lighting of the mansion illuminates their large kitchen, Steve has a sinking feeling that doesn't need Spider-Man's spider sense or Carol's seventh sense to power it. All Steve needs is how well he knows Tony.

He doesn't even sag at the sight of the small remote control in Tony's hand.

"Do what you like to me," Tony says, low and firm, "but you're all locked in unless I come with you."

Steve glares at him, worry combating instantly in his stomach, but he always does the right thing, always, no matter of how much it personally hurts. Even Tony's life isn't worth the hundreds of potential casualties if his business is hit.

"Unlock us," Steve says, "and suit up."

"Are you sure about this?" Carol mutters, as Tony clicks his remote and the regular lights flood the place.

Steve looks at her and shrugs. He's powerless. She puts her hand on his shoulder. "We'll keep him safe," Carol says, her eyes meeting his for a moment. Steve nods, his mouth suddenly oddly dry, and then they both turn and head for the quinjet bay.

They've got work to do.

---

Steve finds it hard to admit it, but he does feel much better heading out of the quinjet with Tony by his side. Maybe it's the armor. Tony in his Iron Man suit is so much better than Tony wandering around the mansion with only his civilian clothes to protect him.

He takes Tony to one side as Clint and Logan do a scan of the building, ascertaining the weak points.

"I want you to stick close," Steve tells Tony, stern. "No wandering off and trying to get yourself blown up by a warehouse. I'm not putting you on a leash, you have freedom within your orders, but for once I need you to follow my commands to the letter."

"I'm fine," Tony says, "I'm as safe here as anywhere else—"

"Your safety isn't the risk here," Steve says. "Mine is."

Tony's had his mask down since leaving the building — Jan got at him until he did it — but Steve can see the questioning expression on his face even with the gold-painted metal in the way. "Have you been hiding death threats too, Cap?" Tony asks, the Iron Man suit modulating his voice to add an extra edge to his tone.

"If I can't see you, I'll fret. If I fret, I can't fight properly," Steve says. "Call it you babying to my crazy, I need you close. Until such time as things blow over a little."

Tony nods. And fidgets. Steve waits for the inevitable response. "Last night," Tony starts, awkwardly. "Man, no conversation ever starts well with those words. But—"

"Tony." Steve levels a look at him, and shrugs. "I said I'd wait 'til you were ready. You didn't make me promise to wait silently." He slides in closer, the smile curling back onto his face. "Do you really want me to?"

Steve wishes he could see behind the mask, especially as Tony keeps his face turned to him. He doesn't say no or shake his head, so that's probably a yes.

"We should go fight bad guys," Tony mutters, turning and joining the main pack of Avengers, and that's definitely a yes — Tony's not a shrinking violet when it comes to saying no.

Steve crosses over to where Clint and Logan are pouring over a screen.

"Four pronged attack, Cap," Clint says. "What's the call?"

"Hold in close, this is a very specific target, we don't need to spread out," Steve says. "Clint. The highest point is the north-east roof. Call out what you see. Carol, can you give him a lift? I want you to hang close to him, but the top right heat source? That's your play. Cage, I want you down on the ground, it looks like the south-west heat source is coming in low. Spider-Man, there's still some civilians. Apparently some of the Stark scientists value their experiments above their own lives—" Steve eyeballs Tony for a second. "If you can go in, provide some cover for them, Iron Man will ensure you can pass through to the basement levels."

"Will I," Tony mutters. Steve ignores him.

"Jan, the one coming in from the West is looking to be pretty big. I hate to ask it from the outset of a battle, but Giant Girl could be handy," Steve says.

"On it," Jan says, rolling her eyes.

"Logan, you're with her," Steve says. "Tony, we've got the guy to the north. Can't tell from the data whether it's high or low, we can cover both between us. Anyone who finishes, come join us — north's packing the biggest hit."

"Okay, kids," Carol calls, "Comms on and let's scramble."

Steve doesn't stop to watch them take their places. He trusts them. He heads to the north, assuming Tony will follow. Even the times when Tony goes against his orders, he does pretend to follow them at the beginning.

"You put us on point?" Tony questions, muting his comm to everyone but Steve. "Seriously? I thought your usual strategy was for anyone who might be more of a target than usual, to keep them in a medium play."

Steve had done just that, when Crossfire came after Hawkeye for a spell, and when Iron Fist had been mind-whammied by Loki and thought Cage was his worst enemy. Steve adjusts his shield self-consciously. "I'm on record with that being my usual play in a circumstance like this," he agrees. "I thought it was a better idea to be unexpected."

"Unless that's what our enemy is expecting," Tony says. "In which case there's literally nothing we can do to prepare. In which case, I can do whatever I like — it's all got the same chance of working."

"I can call Fury and see if Bruce's cage is still unoccupied," Steve says, warningly.

"Aw, calling daddy at a single hint of anarchy," Tony snarks, "so precious. Head's up!"

Thankfully Steve knows Tony well enough that the change in tone is a suitable warning. He holds up his shield defensively as Tony jets up into the air, conceding to Steve's request by not going too far, and Steve turns to the incoming enemy.

And stares.

"I think someone got the call for aliens wrong," Tony calls down through the comm to everyone. "That's u-f-o, people."

"I'm about to get poisoned again, aren't I?" Clint adds in a whine, the clunk of his quiver adjusting his arrows clearly echoing down the line.

"I've got your back," Carol tells him. "Cloud girl's not getting through you if I can help it."

Steve adjusts his grip on his shield so it's tighter, and tries not to sigh loud enough for the comms to pick up on it as he starts in towards Vector.

---

They've fought the u-Foes before, of course.

Steve likes to think of them as the Fantastic Four's territory, even though they terrorized the Hulk more than any other New York superhero — certainly it's the Four's fault the four u-Foes exist, because their villainous powers are a direct result of trying to recreate Reed Richards' experiment. He runs down the line-up in his head, his brain automatically thinking up the strategy for this.

Vector's the one heading for Tony and him. His power is telekinesis. The first time he appeared as a villain it wasn't too bad — his power seemed to be limited to attracting or repelling matter close to his body. However, over the years he's grown more powerful, being able to focus his telekinesis into terribly powerful blasts. Best for Steve and Tony to remain fighting him; Steve can play bait and draw Vector's attention while Tony blasts him from above. Vector's a flier too, which explains his varied approach.

Vapor's coming in towards Hawkeye and Ms. Marvel. It's a long haul fight with her — avoiding whatever gas she turns her body into until she's forced to return to a human state. In that state she's vulnerable. Definite chance of her turning into a poisonous gas, though. Steve automatically puts a call through for SHIELD to send them a medjet, stat; Carol's got an inbuilt defense — her alien attributes mean she has a good chance of fighting off any poison, but Clint's still human all the way.

X-Ray with his energy blasts and assorted powers and invulnerability to physical attacks makes him a bit of a problem. Cage is a physical kind of guy. Steve makes the call immediately — he swaps Jan and Cage, so that Cage and Logan can take on Ironclad. Jan in her small form should be able to fly around X-Ray's blasts and take him down at a weak spot. Steve lets Spider-Man know they might need him on the outside sooner rather than later — if X-Ray uses his invisibility, Spider-Man can spray his webs at random, which should out X-Ray's location.

Ironclad's not going to be a walk in the park — it's pretty much like going into a fistfight against a boulder, but a boulder than can change its mass at will. Wolverine's claws should be able to dent him, but that's a long fight right there too.

He calls out the changes in the strategy, and settles into fighting Vector.

Steve sometimes likes it when they have to fight villains that they've defeated before.

Something about the battle is at least a little familiar, they know they can defeat them so their confidence can't be rocked easily, and it's always satisfying to know from the start just how much of a villain your enemy is, because it's nice to lock the really bad ones away.

He only sometimes likes it. Because the rest of the time, it makes being a superhero kind of a chore. The same old fistfights, the same old taunts, and for what? There's apparently no prison that can hold a supervillain for any decent length of time anymore.

Steve's pretty sure they locked the u-Foes up in Hank's Big House, the Lang Memorial Penitentiary. So much for the Pym particles keeping them too tiny to escape properly — Vector is definitely full-sized and fully annoying, and seems more intent on dragging the battle out than actually trying to take out the Stark Industries building.

Steve's definitely sure the u-Foes all went down on a life sentence, along with some of their more fervent enemies, so-

Oh. Oh. All reports so far had said that the Big House was safe. Full. The fact that Steve's currently dodging severe telekinetic blasts says rather thoroughly that that is obviously not the case.

It's probably not a death threat from someone new at all.

Steve does something common for Tony, not so common for him; he dodges another blast and twists his comm so he's only speaking to Tony. "These guys are babysitting," Steve pants into his comm. "Fancy taking our over-eager sophomore on a trip? See what mom and dad super-evil are trying to distract us from?"

"Roger that," Tony says. Steve can hear the smirk down the line. "Hold on, Captain. This might hurt."

"It usually does," Steve mutters, and braces himself. As soon as he sees Tony's play towards Vector, he tenses and leaps up, grabbing onto the nearest part of Iron Man he can. Rather ungracefully, it ends up being Tony's leg.

"JARVIS, compensate for the tag along," Tony says, "oh, and for Captain America too. Open up the canons — Vector'll probably try to shake us off rather than stick us to him, we'll need to compensate"

As usual, Steve can't hear JARVIS' response. He'll never fully really been able to grasp that JARVIS is a computer program and that there's not a butler sat at the other end of a continually-open phone line. JARVIS seems too real to be all computer code.

"JARVIS is picking up something interesting," Tony says. "Some chatter on the line, centering in... Gotta be Rice Stadium. There's a big culture festival going on at that end of the park and JARVIS is picking up something odd. Can't drop our cargo there. Too many casualties."

"Where can we drop down?" Steve says, desperately hanging on as Vector tries to shake them off with his repelling power. Tony's armor jumps in automatically, a small crowd of tiny energy darts dispelling from Tony's shoulder, dodging through Vector's waves of power and distracting the blasts.

"Gonna have to drop him at the dog run. Can't hold him 'til the landfill. Might scorch some trees," Tony says. "Presume current protocol applies and the public trumps trees."

"Regretfully," Steve yells, through the howling wind as they fly. "Sooner rather than later, please."

"Just gotta peel you off him, Cap," Tony yells back. "Unless you like being a supervillain's superhuman cape."

"I was considering it as a career," Steve snarks back.

The location changes, but the fight — when they touch back down onto the ground — isn't much different. Steve can't fight the sinking feeling that they're being waylaid for something bigger.

That accelerates when Steve realizes that the fight isn't exactly the same as back in the building. By the Stark Industries building, the fight stayed relatively static. Here, Vector is subtly pushing them towards the rear of the park.

"Son of a bitch is definitely shepherding us away from the Rice Stadium end of the park," Tony yells. "We've got to ditch this stalker."

"Agreed. ASAP."

With a wrench, Steve decides to trust that Tony's fully capable of looking after himself, and he uses that extra inch of care to try and take down Vector. It's still a bitch of a fight, and when he relays what's going on to the others down the comm, Ms. Marvel brings Hawkeye over to the fight, Vapor unconscious and tied to one of the building's lightning conductors.

Tony immediately tries to come with Steve, but Steve shuts him down.

"Ms. Marvel, you're with me," Steve says, glaring heavily at Tony's impassive Iron Man mask. "Hawkeye, keep him safe."

"C'mon, Cap," Tony tries.

"We're being pushed away from somewhere deliberately," Steve yells, probably loud enough for him to hear without the aid of the comms. "Meaning someone might have wanted us to notice that and it's probably some sort of a trap."

"And Vector could be hired to kill me," Tony bites back, "we don't know."

"Well, I know more about this situation," Steve says. "The order stands. Ms. Marvel, you're with me."

It feels like he's forcibly wrenching off a limb, leaving Tony behind, but Steve would trust Clint with his own life. Trusting Clint to look after Tony as well as he would? Steve is trusting Clint with his life.

"You made the right call," Carol tells him, as she grabs him and they start flying in the direction Vector's been pushing them away from.

Steve puts a call through to Fury while they fly. The fact that Agent Hill's the one to automatically take the call, instead of routing his call through a bracket of faceless SHIELD agents tells him that SHIELD have already picked up that something's going on.

"Hill. We're being pushed away from where the Rice Stadium used to be. Suspect the City Island attack has been a set-up to waylay us."

"Intel backs that up," Hill says. "We're into the public video feeds now. Can't see anything on first visual sweep. Running the faces we can see through our databases now. Local law enforcement on the way to evacuate the area. Keep me on your comm lines for now. I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks, Agent," Steve says. "Ms. Marvel, you picking up anything?"

Carol shakes her head, but it's not a no. It's more of a dazed movement. "Something," she says, "but I can't get a register on it. I feel like — I should be scared. But that's weird. I'm not a telepath."

"Maybe someone who is a telepath is broadcasting that, then," Steve says. "Are you picking up a vague direction?"

Carol casts around for a moment, and then points.

But Steve realizes why it's that direction as soon as she does.

From the yelling.

"Agent Hill, are you picking up that sound?"Steve asks, already starting to run to the noise. "What language is it?"

"No language on record, Captain," Agent Hill replies promptly. "Routing a sample of it through the Asgardian files Thor supplied us with last year. That takes a little longer."

Steve opens his mouth to ask for an ETA, but it doesn't matter: it's not fast enough.

The sky lights up and the world starts screaming.

---

In the space of one-point-four seconds, ninety-eight civilians died.

Ninety-eight.

Some were children. One was a pregnant woman in her early twenties. Steve can hardly take it all in.

Before the area exploded, SHIELD was able to get footage of how it happened: three young men, staggering out of a car. In their chests and hands were glowing blue circles. Perfect replicas of Tony's arc reactors.

Perfect, apart from instead of keeping the three young men alive, the reactors exploded, taking out half the block.

Steve might go insane if he thinks about it. So he doesn't. Blocks out the atrocity of it so he can run in and help where he can. It doesn't stop the accusing looks from the civilians, and Steve can empathize with that. Although Steve knows they did their best and couldn't have anticipated this attack any earlier than they did, he knows how it must feel. How it must look.

Like the Avengers were there — but there too late.

He grabs Carol, pulling her to one side as she blinks out at some of the devastation, her eyes clearly welling up with tears despite the mask. Lying in amongst the carnage of the wrecked tents and tables is the severed head of the destroyed American Boy statue; it seems a perfect metaphor for the destruction of the day.

"We did our best," Steve says. "It's all we can ever do. If we were here a few seconds earlier, we probably would have joined the death count. We're here. We help clean up, and we find who did it and stop them from doing it again. That's who we are. We can't save everyone but we can make sure we Avenge their deaths."

Carol nods, and blinks the tears away.

The other Avengers join them a little while later, bringing the quinjet in close. Tony doesn't say a word, just starts helping lifting away debris to find the bodies underneath as soon as Steve's made the medjet SHIELD sent scan the place for any secondary devices. Now they know they're looking for arc reactor technology...

Steve watches Tony for a while, trying not to think about how this was meant for Tony. May still be meant for Tony. A message. We can get you wherever you are... with your own technology.

The u-Foes are bound up and in SHIELD custody again. Agent Hill's promised Steve that they'll be interrogated to within a millimeter of regulations, but she already clearly thinks they'll get the same answer as they got from the Marauder and the villains they took down earlier in the month: a third party hired them, saying that they worked for the Mandarin, but without physical proof it's all completely inadmissible in court.

Tony will be quietly shattering at this. His technology being turned into weapons, being used against civilians, that's one of his biggest nightmares. To still be working through his alcohol withdrawal, the death threats, and now this... It's nothing one person can handle alone.

Feeling completely helpless, Steve does the only thing he can do. He picks his way through the disaster and works through the pieces of broken stalls and burning tents to the one place in the world he ever wants to be: at Tony's side.

Chapter 7

As soon as he sees the blue light of the explosion screaming up into the sky, Tony knows who it is that wants him dead.

The realization, distracting enough to rush through his brain like a sledgehammer, distracts him long enough for Vector to slam a bolt of energy right at his head, denting his helmet.

Later, when Steve looks at him with almost dead-eyes and doesn't fight when Tony insists on staying to help rescue the victims, Tony knows he has no choice now. Steve's numb period won't last long. If Tony stays and doesn't execute this plan, then this won't be the first attack made using Tony's own technology against him.

Because there's nothing but his arc reactor technology could produce that large a blast that quickly with that much heat and devastation in such a relatively limited blast radius.

And there's no one else who would want to hurt Tony so thoroughly before killing him.

Ezekiel "Zeke" Stane.

Obadiah's son, seeking vengeance.

He's tried to kill Tony before, of course. It was a train wreck of an attempt.

Zeke slowly changed his body, becoming a hybrid Iron Man suit, giving Tony a blazingly terrible vision of the future he most feared. Zeke got to the point where he didn't even need to breathe. He consumed 20,000 calories a day and was able to convert food energy to energy blasts and heal himself. Tony's still pretty sure he only survived back then because Zeke was still an angry teenager.

Zeke's had a long time in prison to think about it and plan how best to get his revenge. If the u-Foes are out of the Big House, Zeke will be out too.

Spooking Tony with the notes will have been a little bit of fun. Same for the bullet at StarkPark. Child's play. No, this is Zeke's first real step. Mindless, complete tragedy with Tony's own technology behind it. Zeke will rip everything out of Tony's life one piece at a time and make all his nightmares into terrible, bloody reality. Tony read all of Zeke's psychiatric reports after his incarceration. Zeke will be after all of this and more.

Unless Tony stops it all before it starts.

And that's what he's going to do. As soon as he can make himself do it.

For now, though, JARVIS is still picking up life signs under the wrecked festival debris. Tony semi-buries himself in the work, pushing himself, removing entire large pieces of the stalls and using JARVIS to calculate the safest way of doing it, and even then, even now, when he's right here, he's still not fast enough — just as he reaches the body of an eight year old boy, the boy flatlines. Tony yells to Steve, the readouts of the boy's vital signs blurry in his helmet, and oh, that's tears. Tony blinks them away furiously. That's for later. Crying right now is self indulgent and wasteful and the only thing his emotions want him to do.

Thankfully, growing up with Howard Stark means Tony knows how to shut his emotions down to get on with the task at hand. Even if the task at hand is lifting a dead boy from the ground. Steve comes over to help, and his heartbreak is so clear even though his face is half-covered by his mask.

Tony faking his death will cause Steve some pain, but not as much as having to do something like this, over and over, knowing it's because Tony's being targeted.

Although Tony wants to keep going, he lets Carol and Steve shepherd him out of there when the press come onto the scene. The assassination attempt on Tony at StarkPark was still all over the news; it'll only be a matter of time before Stane leaks this attack is for Tony's benefit, and if that happened while Tony was on-site of the tragedy, well. The crowd would do Zeke's task for him.

Numb, Tony lets himself be led back to the mansion, and isn't too surprised when Maria Hill is there, arms folded, a tangible expression of anger on her face. Tony flips his mask up. He's not going to hide from the truth. He needs the bite of it to push him over the edge.

"Who authorised Stark to leave the mansion," Hill clips out, her voice as flint-hard as her eyes, boring into Tony's face with undisguised hatred.

"I did," Steve says, quietly. Brave, as always. "We were being toyed with. That stadium would have gone up like that even if we'd kept him under lockdown. You and I both know that, Agent Hill."

Hill visibly swallows, and stalks forward, shoving a pile of photographs into Steve's hands. Steve still has blood on his hands. They all do. Steve gingerly holds the photos as best as he can, as Hill stalks up to Tony.

"This is still your fault," Hill says, glaring at Tony. "I hope you know that. If you weren't so—" She inhales sharply instead of filling in the space, but Tony knows exactly what she's saying. If he hadn't been so stupid in the past, he'd have been able to see Obadiah Stane was an enemy, and this wouldn't be happening.

It is all his fault, and he's going to be paying for his old sins over and over for the rest of his life.

Just not in the way Zeke Stane will be hoping.

"I don't exactly think SHIELD want to be in the business of assigning blame for things," Tony says, coolly. He tilts his head and stares her down and ignores the fact that his stomach is rolling and that the heat of anger is the only thing keeping the guilt from swallowing him whole. "I've been collecting evidence against all of you for years. The travesties I could pin on Director Fury alone... It makes anything that's ever been done with a Stark Industries missile look like a playground scuffle. Do you really want to start this game?"

Hill blinks away what might be tears, if she wasn't so strong. She is silent, though, and eventually, she says in a quiet, terrible voice, "Galaga guy passed away half an hour ago. We found this message in his blood on the wall," and she shoves over a handful of photographs before turning on her heel and stalking out of the mansion. "We analyzed the blood. The fingerprints of the message's writer matched to Ezekiel Stane," Hill adds as she goes through the door. She pauses and throws a look back. "You know, in case you thought you could ever come up squeaky-clean against Nick Fury."

"I'd never be under that delusion," Tony tells her, because it's the truth. For a moment the honesty softens Hill's eyes, but that's only for a second, and then she's gone. She might vanish on the spot or disappear or — more likely — walk out of the door, and Tony doesn't know because he makes the mistake of looking down at the pictures there and then.

He's aware of both Carol and Steve coming to hold him up, but he doesn't call them on it; admitting he needs their help feels like he's asking too much of them. For a few moments, all Tony can actually think is, ooh, validation on why I should never be handed things because this is awful and insane and the last push Tony needed.

"That was harsh," Carol mutters. It's like she's speaking underwater. Every sound is muffled for Tony.

"She—" Steve starts, and Tony can feel him tense. "I'll tell you later."

Tony pauses, and stares hollowly at Steve. "If there's something Hill's hiding and you know it, you tell me." He can hear his own voice like he's faraway. Like it's not him. Like it's someone else standing there, holding proof in his hands about how much he's made a mess of his life.

That's wrong.

That's all wrong.

Tony can't distance himself from this tragedy, because it's his fault, and he should be feeling every terrible second of it.

Steve looks away, his jaw tensing slightly, and then he nods at Tony. "Hill's sister was at Rice Stadium with her husband and son. We don't know yet if—" He trails off. Carol's hands tighten on Tony's elbow, keeping him steady. Tony stares at Steve blankly. "I shouldn't have told you," Steve mutters.

"You should," Tony says, quiet and forced. It explains Hill's anger, although Tony wouldn't blame her anger even if she hadn't had a personal connection to the tragedy. Ninety-eight civilians. Three boys, with Tony's technology implanted in their chests. Galaga guy, an ex-colleague. Dead. All dead.

Tony's hands aren't soaked in blood; his hands are drowning in it.

Steve takes the photos away after Tony's made himself look through all of them. They're all mostly the same. Galaga guy's body. The pillow that smothered him to death. A time stamp which says it happened while they were distracted with the u-Foes. And the message in blood, that Zeke Stane has personally written:

This is only the beginning, Tony.

The floor feels unsteady. Tony's vaguely aware of Steve leading him to the stairs, letting him sink to the ground. He vaguely registers Carol leaving to go back to Rice Stadium to help with the clean-up operation, and Tony automatically checks his phone because he's so used to doing it. The newsfeeds are already full of over 100 now confirmed dead and bloody message to Tony Stark and youngest victim confirmed as eight years old and when Steve leans over and takes his phone, Tony lets him.

"I can't process this," Tony says. It feels like his voice belongs to someone else. That weirdly makes it easier to speak. It's not him, so out of control. It's not him, saying things that are too raw and too honest. It's not him sitting here, still sitting in his blood-spattered Iron Man suit, feeling like he must still be asleep and this is a never-ending nightmare. "I—" He turns to Steve, who's removed his headpiece entirely, and is looking at Tony with such a serious, empathetic expression that has much too much care in it. He gestures at the pictures. Everything in him tightens up, spasms bitterly, at the sight of Galaga guy's sightless, staring eyes. There's nothing to say. There's too much to say. "I don't even know his name," Tony tags on, and he looks at Steve blankly, because there's nothing more than that he can say. Nothing to make any of this better.

Steve just nods, and tugs him over. Supporting Tony's weight. Putting his arm around Tony's shoulder. He can't feel much of it through the suit, but he can feel the weight of Steve's arm, and he rests his head on Steve's shoulder, Steve's breath warm and reassuring against Tony's forehead. This is good. It's a good reminder for Tony.

Not everything is lost.

There is still hope.

Tony steps away and into his spare suit alcove in the hall, for when he can't get down to his workshop. The suit strips away quickly, and Tony steps out of it, barefoot and in the black under suit he's perfected. Steve strips down in one of the cloakrooms, flinging on a generic SHIELD t-shirt but leaving his blue Captain America pants on, obviously concerned he may be called out again. They meet again without even having to say anything at the bottom of the stairs.

Seeing Steve there unlocks something, low in Tony, something that resonates even over all the chaos and destruction and terror. Even though he knows he shouldn't, knows this will make everything harder, he can't help himself; he's already across the floor and into Steve's personal space before he really knows what he's doing.

Tony can't pull back from this. If Steve had been a mere thirty seconds earlier, he would have gone up with the rest of the victims, he'd be a smear of blood on the pavement, and Tony wouldn't have to fake his death — he'd already be dead. Stane would have won before the battle had even begun.

Steve doesn't even flinch or falter at Tony's approach — he takes Tony's face in his hands and kisses him. It's not like their first passionate kiss in the workshop. It's much more precise, much more them, reassuring each other that they're there, that they exist, that they're both alive. Tony clings to Steve hopelessly, not caring how desperate he must look; right now, Steve is his anchor, the only thing in the world keeping him upright. It is selfish to want this, but without this, Tony might fall apart before anything's even begun.

Steve fits against him like he's meant to be there; strength and dependability, warmth and fervor. He's a fever against Tony's mouth, a necessity. Tony would be embarrassed by the noise that rends from the back of his throat, if he could feel anything but the most opposite of feelings, all at once. He's in a nightmare and his best, brightest dream, all at the same time.

If Tony pretends just a little bit harder, he can pretend that he can keep this.

Steve's mouth grazes Tony's cheek and Tony's head tips back automatically, his hands grasping into the back of Steve's t-shirt. Steve's holding him safe, holding him still, and suddenly it's not enough. Tony should have known one moment with Steve would never be enough. He knows now with devastating clarity that this is what Zeke Stane would rip away from him, brutally and thoroughly, if Tony doesn't stop him.

The scope of his immediate future spreads out before him, blinding, impossible; he hears Steve making soft shushing noises in his ear before he realizes that he's digging his fingers into Steve's back so hard that someone normal would have been hurt by now. And really, that's what Tony's good at, hurting people without noticing.

Maybe that extends to himself too. Steve pulls back far enough to just look at him, his eyes impassive and intense all at once, and he brushes something away from Tony's cheeks, moisture or hair or dust or blood, Tony's not sure; something clenches in Tony's chest, deeper than the reach of his arc reactor, and it's like Steve's first kiss was a chip in the dam, and that chip is cracking, wider and farther. There's definitely something broken inside of Tony, somewhere, somehow.

Steve's mouth moves to his again, catching on his lower lip, thrilling across Tony's nerves before Steve takes Tony's mouth again, his tongue unhurried and possessive, claiming Tony more thoroughly than anyone ever has. And Tony... Tony lets himself kiss back. Maps out Steve's mouth with his. Closes his eyes and sinks into the sensation. Takes the memory of this and locks it down deep inside him.

Zeke Stane might steal his life, but this is a secret he'll never be able to take from Tony.

Steve pulls away, mouth swollen, breathing shallow. He's not smiling but he still manages to look happy. One of his hands is on Tony's waist, the other moves to his face, brushing away Tony's hair softly. "I'm so glad you're safe," Steve says, his voice rough. "I don't know what I'd do if—" Steve shakes that away. "You're safe and you're here and I—"

Tony understands the fragmented sentences. Everything's a discordant symphony in his brain. Things he has to do collide hard with things he wants to do and over it all, the bittersweet elegiac notes of what he needs to do.

None of it is fair. Tony takes Steve's hand from his cheek, and wraps his hand around Steve's wrist. He locks gazes with Steve and looks at him, like if he looks long enough, Steve's face will brand into his memory. Tony doesn't know when he'll be able to come back. If they even allow Steel Corpse into the Avengers' mansion.

Hell, Tony might even be able to stop Stane before ever having to really go too far into the plot — but then, he's never thought of himself as lucky.

Steve presses a kiss into Tony's wrist, where their hands are joined, without tearing his gaze away. "Stay with me," Steve says, quiet, like he's having trouble staying it. "I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight not knowing you're okay. "

In a lighter scenario, Tony would insert a thousand immature jokes right now. But this is a serious situation, and has a weight attached to it Tony might never be free from. "I don't—" Tony starts, because that's a line he won't cross, he won't sleep with Steve and then fake his death. Even this he suspects is too far, but Steve's thumb on his pulse is a firebrand, and Tony might be going to his death fighting Stane in secret, on his own, and he can't die not knowing how it feels, at least, to curl around Steve. To share breaths and to sleep in his arms.

"Just sleep," Steve says, and he sounds a little giddy and strained. "I can't—"

"Yeah," Tony says, "yeah," because he understands. He'll sleep better with Steve in reach. Where he knows if he wakes in the night, he can count Steve's inhales and exhales. He can count the number of unbroken bones in Steve's body and know that only perspiration dampens his perfect skin, and not blood.

Steve, swallowing hard, starts to back up the stairs, and Tony follows.

---

True to his word, Steve pulls him into his bed and holds him there. Tony lets him. Clutches back. Kisses him goodnight. Sleeps better than he has for years.

When Tony eventually wakes up, Steve's awake and watching him, looking more peaceful than Tony's seen him since knowing him. He smiles and stretches into Steve's hold. Steve's arms tighten, and his mouth slants over Tony's, and they both pull away laughing, because ick, morning breath — but it's still awkwardly perfect. It's perfect and wonderful and if Tony could have this forever, he'd be the luckiest man alive.

He reaches up and kisses Steve again, regardless of the taste, and Tony resists the urge to check if his balls are there because he sort of wants to cry. Steve makes a surprised, pleased noise under his breath, and pushes Tony's hair back from his forehead again, and Tony shivers, full body, which makes Steve quirk a grin to one side before carefully rolling a little and pushing Tony down into the pillows.

"Morning," Steve murmurs, and Tony leans up, kissing him so that he doesn't have to look Steve straight in the eyes, because the intimacy is ripping Tony apart. He's moments from spilling his secrets and then where will Tony be? Kneeling over more dead bodies? Standing over Steve's grave?

"This is completely unsexy. Well. A little bit. But it could be sexier," Tony says, pulling back. "Seriously. Toothpaste. Toothpaste and more kissing, please."

Steve nods, and pulls Tony up with him. Tony makes a noise of protest.

"I don't have a toothbrush," he says, feeling a little stupid.

Steve shrugs. Tony feels a deep pang of regret at the ripple of muscle under the rumpled cotton of his t-shirt. He should have tried hard to peel that from Steve last night. "I have a spare," Steve says, a little timidly, but his actions belie the shyness of his tone because he tugs Tony in with him, not even letting go as he flips open his bathroom cabinet and passes Tony a still-wrapped toothbrush. Tony takes it in his spare hand and gives Steve a look. Steve drops Tony's wrist and looks a little sheepish. "Sorry," Steve says, although he sounds anything but, "I sort of, I mean, I—" He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and then reaches for his own toothbrush, sitting in a Captain America plastic cup. Tony smirks — he bought that for Steve a couple of Christmases ago.

"I'm finding it hard to not be near you all the time too," Tony says, pushing out the first honest thing he feels. There's a knot in his throat, a giant fucking knot that tells him exactly how terrible he's being, but he swallows it down. Let me have this. Another moment before everything goes wrong. Please, let me pretend that this could have been my life. Please. He grazes the side of Steve's hip with his hand. "I think we were idiots for not giving into this sooner."

Steve looks at him, heat and intent, and Tony's completely sunk. In a minute, Steve's going to press him up against the bathroom door. The tension between them is too precise, too encompassing, for anything else. And God forbid him, Tony's going to lean into it and take everything Steve's offering, because he's only human, and it's only everything's he always wanted, even if it's taken him this long to figure it out.

Tony shoves the toothbrush in his mouth, staving off the moment, because Tony's terrible and is he really this terrible, to take something he knows he's going to take away so soon? He has more than a sneaking suspicion that he is that awful. But is it selfish to hold back? Or is it selfish not to have all the moments they can have, however brief?

He should tell Steve. He should. I'm planning to fake my death. Six words. Six words and Steve won't have to spend any time hating him. Six words, and maybe Tony's plan can still work.

Or, Tony tells him, and Steve doesn't react properly, and Stane not only realizes Tony's alive, but realizes if Tony's told Steve, then Tony might as well rip his own heart and deliver it to Stane's front door.

His heart doesn't seem to be listening to his brain, though. Because as soon as Tony dutifully spits his toothpaste out, and puts his toothbrush in the cup next to where Steve puts his down, he doesn't protest when Steve's gaze locks into his and then events play out exactly as Tony predicted.

He wraps his legs automatically around Steve's waist as Steve effortlessly lifts him up and pins him against the bathroom door. Steve's eyes bore into his challengingly, and Tony never steps down from challenges, even when he should; he undulates his hips in the small space Steve's given him to find they're both shamelessly hard. Steve breaks the gaze to move his mouth over the pulse in Tony's neck, and Tony's hands push into Steve's hair without any say from him, and he's thinking, oh, it's softer than it looks when Steve's mouth finds his again.

Tony kisses back, lost in it, lost in Steve pinning him against the door with no visible effort at all. He could do this forever if he had the chance, but that's the point, right there: he doesn't.

And if he wants a chance to do this forever, he's going to have to trust Steve with the truth and trust like hell Steve wants to fight for this as much as he does.

As amazing as this is, he has to stop Steve. He has to let him know.

"Steve," Tony gasps, as soon as Steve's mouth leaves his for a moment of air. "Steve, wait a second—"

Steve dutifully freezes. Reluctantly lets Tony's thighs unclamp from his hips, lets Tony's feet back down onto the floor. He looks at Tony, and looks a little sheepish. "I was going too fast, sorry—" Steve starts to shuffle back, and Tony grabs him by the hips, locks him in place and stares at him, slightly wild-eyed.

"Love the speed, big fan of the speed, crazy fan of you," Tony says, cupping Steve's chin in his hand. "There's just one thing I have to say before we continue."

"If this is some big, noble gesture about not being seen with me in public so Stane won't make me a target too—" Steve starts, warningly.

"Oh, no, I was going to let you burn," Tony says, waving his hand airily.

"Kinda always knew what I'd be getting into if I gave into this," Steve says, and if that doesn't go straight down Tony's spine in a tingle, someone's lying.

"Always, hm?" Tony tugs Steve closer in again. "Been thinking about this a lot?"

Steve moves his mouth closer, but doesn't kiss Tony, and Tony hates him for a little. Steve's so close that when he speaks, his lips brush Tony's. "Wouldn't you like to know how long I've been thinking about you," Steve pretty much purrs. "Thinking about you in my bed. In my life. You're kind of big on image — picture how good we'd look together."

Tony shivers, completely full body, and Steve's smile is predatory and pleased. "I don't have to — you put a picture of us in my phone."

Steve's smile quirks. "Knew you'd look better in my arms."

"How are you even real," Tony whines, because he can forget for a moment this isn't his to keep for a while. "No, wait, check that, everything later, I have a serious thing. An actual serious thing that's hard to say."

"Do you need us to move it out of the bathroom?" Steve asks, a more professional note sliding into his voice. Tony, embarrassingly, is a little turned on by that. Along with everything else, like the curve of Steve's arm that his thin t-shirt is doing nothing to hide, and the sense memory of Steve's chest, his safe, sturdy pillow from the night, and the blue of Steve's eyes, blue like the sea and the sky.

"I was sort of enjoying that part," Tony says. "No, here's good. It's a big thing and I'm not sure how to say it without it sounding completely nuts. Crazy. Insane, even. I've done some pretty out there things in the past, and this completely chews that all out into the stratosphere, and—"

"Tony," Steve says, fondness washing through his exasperation like it probably always has, "spit it out."

"I—" Tony starts, and like all perfect timing of his life, the house starts whining.

"The alarm," Steve says, tensing up automatically into full Captain America readiness.

"Avengers' business comes first," Tony says, deflating. I'm going to make us both very miserable hangs in the air unspoken, but Steve doesn't seem to be able to hear it. There's never the right X-Man around when you need them.

Then again, to be fair, there's probably a very good reason Frost, Gray and Xavier all make excuses not to come anywhere near Tony, and it very likely has to do with the playboy part of his self-appellation.

"You're grounded," Steve says, in his no-nonsense tone. Tony doesn't fight him this time. Maria's stinging putdowns are still ringing in his ear, even though the memories of Steve's arms around him last night go a pleasant long way to muting the horror of it all.

"Before you go—" Tony says, and shuffles. Swallows down the fear. He trusts Steve. Steve can handle the truth. "There really is something I have to tell you."

Steve hovers in close and although he's not smiling, there's an unmistakably fond look on his face when he says, "I think I have an idea what it is."

Tony's stomach sinks, and he swallows nervously, suddenly feeling completely skittish, because Steve knows him, they've been best friends for years, so, okay, not so much at the beginning and now it's apparently something way past best friends and that something has been probably going on longer than the best friends part, but yes, thought babbling aside Steve knows him, so it's not a surprise, of course it's not, Tony's an idiot for thinking so—

"You said it last night," Steve says, ghosting a thumb over Tony's wrist.

"I did?"

"Mm-hmm," Steve says, still with that pleased sounding tone to his voice. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone."

"Great," Tony says, and realizes sadly that Steve doesn't know of his plan, which means...

Which means Tony said something else last night.

"Wait. What did I say?"

"Your secret's safe with me," Steve says, tapping the side of his nose and backing off to get downstairs and put his uniform on.

"Steve. Steve. What did I say?"

Steve doesn't answer his question. "Stay here," Steve says, "no matter what, okay? I don't care if there are a hundred attacks in a thousand different places. We've got it. Let us look after you for once. Please?"

Tony's face freezes up. He fights through it to say, "Yeah."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Steve promises.

Tony follows him out onto the landing, although Steve's halfway down the stairs by the time he trundles out. Steve sends him up a fond smile, like he's pleased he has a secret no one else knows, and Tony watches him go helplessly.

It's easier to have resolve when Steve's gone. It's easier to stick with the original plan.

So much easier.

By the time Steve comes back, Tony's dead.

Chapter 8

part ii

"This is you taking denial to a whole new level, Tony."

Tony doesn't have to look up to see Pepper's disapproving expression. She's used it on him so often in the past he think it must be imprinted on his eyelids, or like a retinal tattoo. He wonders oddly for a moment what Steve's retinal tattoo would be. Probably the words TONY, NO.

"I'm aware," Tony says, adjusting the chest panel of the Steel Corpse. He's particularly proud of it, if a little sad that Pepper didn't let him make it extra curvy in front. He's blazingly proud of Pepper's idea to make Steel Corpse female, and it only took a couple of invisible tweaks to the videos and records.

And a couple of hours training for Tony to learn how to walk like a woman that they are never talking about again.

"Really."

Tony's never thought it fair that only athletes had Olympics. If there were ever to be an Olympics of Disdain, Pepper would win all the gold medals. "I know it's unfair that I have copious brains under such a handsome visage, but I make do with the hardship, Pep."

"What hardship. You're the one with a madman who wants you dead. I still can't believe you'd put me in danger like this."

Tony does look up at her then. "Pep, you're not in danger."

"My name is Pepper, not Pep," Pepper says. "Actually, my name's Virginia, not Pepper, but let's start with small steps."

"You hate being called Virginia," Tony says.

Pepper hums under her breath but doesn't deny it.

"How are your big post-my-death plans coming along?"

Pepper's expression twists weirdly, but she shrugs. "Your name's currently being plastered on several organic food facilities right now like you're the second coming. It's funny how death makes one into a hero."

Tony squints, because he knew Pepper was going to get him back for faking his death and make her pretend in public. Her revenge is always creative, but this, this is creatively mean. "Organic—"

"You're the one who wanted to go into green energy," Pepper says, smiling sweetly. "Some of the food we're producing is like... mini arc reactors. One box of bars can last a family all week."

"You're a cruel woman," Tony says. "Using my death to propel your crazy ideas of philanthropy."

"Poor people can't eat the money you throw at them," Pepper says.

"Paper's got fiber in it," Tony says.

Pepper stills, and looks at him with an almost pitying expression that Tony doesn't understand. "This is how I'd react to you dying, Tony." Her voice is soft, still. "If I didn't keep busy I'd break down. Even after what happened between us, and then Malibu—"

Tony doesn't mean to shut Pepper out, but the genuine vulnerability in her tone, but still such strength — it's humbling, and he doesn't deserve it, and shutting down is all he knows how to do without Steve there to keep him strong.

"Hey," Pepper says softly, and touches his chin, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes are suspiciously bright as she lets him go, and he looks at her, silently. "I don't regret anything. No one could have foreseen or stopped what happened then. But this time around, you know what our enemy is capable of, and you're doing your upmost to stop it. You're the bravest man I know, Tony. I just wished you liked yourself more."

He can't keep looking at her. "According to the world and their mother, I like myself too much already." Tony cranks the panel into place, and then starts fiddling with the waste release valves, even though they're already perfect.

"You buy into your own press too much," Pepper says. He can see the disapproving wrinkle of her mouth in the reflection of one of the Steep Corpse shoulder panels. Then her disapproving expression morphs into deep suspicion as she steps back and squints at one of his screens. "Tony, are those SHIELD plans?"

"Skimmed them from Fury way back when," Tony says. "Don't worry, I got them from his helicarrier, thumb drive, untraceable."

"And you still insist this is a sane course of action?" Pepper shakes her head. "Denial, denial, denial—"

"I'm denying life," Tony says. "Anything else is gravy."

"And you're denying that stealing equipment from that new children's hospital was a low move," Pepper says, tapping one foot and looking at him with one of her no-nonsense, Tony-you've-gone-too-far looks. She probably has them patented, Tony thinks. She's missing a trick if she hasn't patented them.

"Needs must," Tony says, as cheerfully as he can manage. It's all mostly faked, but that's the best he's got right now. "I'll replace it later."

"You can't skate by minor misdemeanours because you're pulling off something epically stupid."

"Epically genius, you mean."

"Epically stupid," Pepper repeats. "I'm still not convinced that you've not turned my home into ground zero."

"Look, if Stane's guessed I would try and fake my own death, this would be the very first place he would expect me to be," Tony says. "And that's why I'm safe here."

Pepper looks a little cross-eyed and forgets how to blink for a minute. "But doesn't he know you think like that?"

"It's not a perfect conclusion," Tony says. Pepper reaches out and smacks him around the arm with the stack of paper in her arms. "Ooh, is that the paperwork?"

"No, it's a monkey."

"Your sarcasm needs work," Tony tells her, and takes the paperwork. He looks at her, seriously this time. "Pepper. I used the stealth technology that even JARVIS doesn't have access to. I dug out this whole lab myself over the last five years by hand."

"With your hand repulsors."

"And a suppression field to mask the energy signatures," Tony says, waving a hand airily. "SHIELD has my auto-destruct protocols clearly in my file. I didn't bring any form of JARVIS with me. I've been out seven times and not even a blip on the deep web. Besides—" Tony looks away from her, and starts flipping through the papers, scrawling his name on several of the sheets. "If he thought I was alive, something would have happened to the Avengers already. Or one of my facilities." He has to focus very hard on the last few sheets. "Or you." He straightens with a smile and passes her the paper. "Leave these on the tower of your PC for a few hours. Should heat up the ink sufficiently to fade it."

Pepper's eyes are suspiciously moist. Tony's never really been able to hide how he feels about her, and his worry for her has been bigger than worry for himself.

Then again, if it was only Tony at risk, this whole charade wouldn't have been necessary. Stane's first move brought the collateral death toll into triple figures. And if Stane realizes Tony is really alive...

Well, Tony won't be able to fake his death. He won't want to. He'd readily die for real to stop another Rice Stadium happening. The trouble is that Stane still wouldn't believe that of him. Even if Tony legitimately sacrificed himself, Stane could still keep going.

Tony needs to stop him. Thoroughly. Completely. And hopefully with the smallest number of casualties along the way.

"Well," Pepper declares, scooping up the papers, "if he does find out you're here and I get hurt, you're not getting your companies and property back when you come back to life."

"I probably won't take them back anyway," Tony says.

Pepper frowns at him. "Wh—"

He regards her fondly, and pushes down that streak of guilt that always flutters up when they have any sort of a quiet moment. Tony's always going to be guilty when it comes to Pepper. She's much more understanding. She understands far better than Tony. Tony had no affection when growing up; it was easy for him to mistake trust and admiration and friendship for love. "You know it as well as I do," Tony says. "My life is — was — with the Avengers. And if they won't have me back after this, I'll build again. Won't be the first time, won't be the last."

Pepper looks at him for a moment, and then tilts her chin a little into her professional mode. "We'll have words later about you marrying me to Happy as part of all of this," she tells him, starting to clack out of the room.

"That was a fundamental part of the plan," Tony calls after her. "Makes it more legitimate that you wouldn't be completely grieving. Some happiness in the gloom. Using death to affirm life! It's very Shakespearian."

Pepper turns at the doorway and throws him a scandalized look.

"Fine, it's more Days of our Lives," Tony says. "Besides, are you totally unhappy with the Happy part of the plan? Because you didn't sound too unhappy the other night—" He ducks as she picks up a discarded piece of the Steel Corpse suit and takes aim. She sighs and puts it down again.

"Y'know, Stane finds out you're alive and he'll have competition," she mutters. "I'm going out. If you're going to sneak upstairs at least be smart about it and don't leave the butter out on the counter."

Tony presses a hand over his arc reactor. "Drain my battery and hope to literally die," he says.

Pepper shakes her head but smiles. "Can't believe you're not finding some way to come with me."

Tony tilts his head, and then notices Pepper is all in black, none of her usual work white under her jacket. "The funeral's today?"

Pepper's expression is wry. "You're seriously trying for the I forgot play?"

Tony pulls his most innocent expression and shrugs.

"Want me to give you a play-by-play?" Pepper asks. "Or I can go find one of my dresses. Sneak you in as my Aunt Marge."

"Nah," Tony says. "I'm good. Besides, who would even go to their own funeral? It's narcissism at its finest."

Pepper just arches him a look.

---

Despite Pepper's annoyingly alluring idea, Tony has no intention of going to his own funeral until Pepper sends him a covert photograph from the cemetery to his linked-only-to-hers quadruple-encoded Starkphone.

Tony, after climbing out of his Iron Man suit and setting up his fake death, arranged his helmet a little way from the blast radius. He didn't particularly think it would survive the heat, but he set the camera to record regardless. He had been hoping it would be picked up by SHIELD and then Pepper could use her Stark Industries power to at least get it into the court archives over a bitter legal dispute as to whose property it actually was, etc. — the court was easier to break into than any of Nick Fury's facilities — to retrieve the footage, because Tony couldn't risk remotely uploading the footage. Data has trails, unless you go old-school.

The photo is of his headstone. In amongst the usual grave detritus — flowers, candles, a cheesy photo of Tony, a fluttering Stars and Stripes — is his helmet. Surprisingly unscorched. Maybe SHIELD has painted it up a little, but the eye sockets look intact, which means there's every chance the footage has survived.

Tony texts back and asks Pepper to try and surreptitiously retrieve it, but she sends a covert photo a little later of a nearby bar; she's been corralled to a wake. Tony feels a brief surge of jealousy, then remembers he's still not drinking (dammit), and he sends her back a photo of her secret chocolate stash in pique.

THEY'LL NEVER FIND THE BODY is the text he gets back.

Tony smirks down at it. He'll have to try retrieving the footage himself. He checks the time. It's late enough that the cemetery should be abandoned by the time he gets to it.

The stealth technology he's been perfecting for years is a finicky piece of tech. Tony road tested it on the children's hospital heist Pepper dressed him down on again. He does feel guilty about that. When this is all over, he'll definitely get the Maria Stark foundation to support the hospital for life. It had been the only place he could steal from. No one would expect someone good to be stealing from such a worthy cause; Tony has to hope the ends do justify the means.

He actually got the idea for his stealth tech from Steve's shield — actually, during a rather embarrassing time when he thought he could improve Steve's shield; his father's notes hadn't said it was superlatively the best material in the world. The Avengers have never quite let him live it down, but Tony's the one laughing now — the shield he did manage to create worked on an enharmonic level, making sound waves resonate at the same frequency as the projectile headed towards it, and even remembering the technobabble around it makes Tony's head hurt.

Tony's learned how to phrase himself in laymen's terms because of Steve. His chest clenches a little, and he hangs his head for a moment, fingers faltering on the metal loop fastenings of his stealth rig. If Steve was there, Tony would be able to tell him clearly: the stealth technology basically emits an alternating sound wave that disrupts surveillance technology. It doesn't blank out cameras, but it makes them fuzzy enough to mask the facial features of the wearer.

Tony couples it with two other safety features. First is an underground tunnel into a house further down the street. Second is a rather low-tech solution to adjusting his gait, in case Stane's borrowed from the Vegas casino kind of security: he puts a stone in his shoes. While he wears a suit outside, to blend in with other businessmen, and shades to give the stealth tech some back-up (he'd never road-tested it in public until this last week and a half, and now it seems like it's a good idea. Those death warnings came from someone at Stark Industries or SHIELD. Tony needs all the secret only-in-his-head technology he can manage.)

It takes him longer than he expects to get the rig on this time and pull the suit over it. The latticework of the stealth rig is uncomfortable and rubs on his skin, but Tony swallows that discomfort down; the Steel Corpse will be a worse torment to bear. By the time he heads down the passage, pushes the stone in his shoe and heads out of the door, it's already getting dark. That's good, though — much more likely for the cemetery to be abandoned. Of course, it increases the chance that someone's already swept in and stolen the helmet. Tony needs to hurry up.

Tony calls a cab on his throwaway cell phone and swallows down the weird feeling in his gut. It feels like something is drawing him onwards, and he doesn't understand what it is until the cab drops him off and he sees it.

Sees him.

Tony pays the cab driver in cash and gets out of the car. Even though he probably should be going in the other direction. He can't help it. It's been eleven long days since his fake death. Eleven days of knowing SHIELD was combing through the wreckage of the "disaster" Tony couldn't apparently stop himself from flying to in his Iron Man suit. Tony briefly mourns the very short lifespan of the Mark Fifteen, but knows its loss is precisely another marker in the veracity of his "death" — Tony's pretty much on all of the records stating how much he loves his suits. All of them. His workshop is a shrine to them, with each suit having its own alcove. Tony Stark, in his right mind, would never waste an Iron Man suit unnecessarily.

He still hasn't wasted it unnecessarily — to a given definition. He could have always faked his death by drowning... but that route involved paying off a mortician and a couple of fed officers, and that's never a good route to go down. Someone always blabs. Someone always offers to pay more.

Steve's distracted. Holding a giant bunch of flowers. Tony gets close enough to see the strained expression on Steve's face, and can't make himself try and sneak any closer. His stomach feels heavy and he knows, more than anything, he can't step out now. Stane will have someone watching Steve, watching all of the Avengers, but he'll be trained on Steve. He won't be looking in the vicinity. Stane would expect Tony, if he was alive, to make contact with them.

Not to hang around like a creepy stalker.

Tony risks another look. Steve's just standing there, staring down at Tony's headstone. It looks nice, from what Tony remembers from the photo Pepper sent him. Candles, his photo, the Stars and Stripes, a crucifix, and his Iron Man helmet.

Steve looks good. Wearing a suit. Tony remembers, suddenly, intensely, how good it was to touch him. He could be in Steve's arms within a minute. He could be kissing him so, so easily.

He would be dooming them both.

Tony's already considering edging away when Steve says his name.

"Tony Stark."

Tony freezes. Steve's observational skills are excellent, but Tony's been careful. Ridiculously careful. Quiet. There's no way Steve knows he's here. Unless he feels it, like I felt him. Tony's heart is pounding loud in his ears, and Steve speaks again.

"Tony Stark," Steve says again, "You son of a bitch."

Oh. Oh. The truth hits Tony low in his gut. Steve is talking to him — but Steve doesn't know he's there. Alive.

Steve is talking to his grave.

"I brought you flowers," Steve says. His voice carries faintly on the wind, but Tony can hear it; Tony's weirdly attuned to his voice. "I'm sorry I couldn't come to your funeral. I couldn't do it. I had a speech prepared and everything, and I woke up this morning and I couldn't do it. I couldn't believe you were dead. I can't."

Tony's eyes shut as he thrills at this connection. At Steve knowing he's alive even without knowing for sure. Surely this means he can tell Steve he is alive, right?

"But you are dead. And I have to believe that," Steve says, and Tony's eyes snap open. Of course. Nothing's ever going to be as easy as that.

"I've lost a lot of people in my life," Steve says, in an almost emotionless tone. Like he's trying his best to be strong. "My mom. My best friend. Good men under my command." There's a wry twist to his tone when he adds, "Everyone I've ever known."

Steve pauses, and Tony pushes his back up against the wall, using the bite of the iron stealth mesh pushing into his skin as an anchor, tethering him to the truth. Steve's words will be the soundtrack to all his nightmares over the next week. His nightmares that are still filled with innocent people being ripped apart to the blue hue of his exploding arc reactor technology. There are bigger things going on, Steve. Bigger things than you and I.

"I even lost a girl I thought I'd marry once the war was over..." Steve continues, unable now to hide the bittersweet tang to his tone. "If we both survived."

Tony lowers his face.

This isn't something he should be hearing.

This is something he needs to hear.

He needs to know the damage he's causing, to all of them. He needs to know the cost of all his decisions, lest he become too free in deciding to do anything in the future.

"I should have known," Steve says, and there's such a painful note in his voice that Tony's heart loses a beat. Tony fancies he can feel a piece of the shrapnel move a micrometre closer to it, piercing into him. Ripping and tearing and pulling him apart from the inside, just like he deserves. "I should have known you would respond to that distress call. You never listen to my orders." He laughs then, but the sound of it hurts.

Tony's breath catches in his throat.

"I didn't know," Steve says. "...I didn't want to. And once again I outlive someone I—"

Steve's last three words are muffled. Stolen by the wind. But Tony can hear them regardless. Can feel them, like someone's poured hot steel through the core of his spine. "Someone I loved."

Tony doesn't know how much time passes, between Steve saying that and his phone buzzing. He can barely feel his own hand as he reaches for the phone. It's his Starkphone, so it has to be Pepper.

She becomes alarmed when he doesn't respond immediately. "TONY? TONY?"

He opens his mouth, but pushes it shut. He can't respond. There aren't any words. Someone I loved. Pepper sighs, but can obviously hear him breathing. "Jan told me that Steve... Is he there? Look. Just go to him. Tell him you're alive. We can find a way for this to work, we can do this without hurting him—"

Someone I loved.

It didn't matter.

Steve was already hurt. What matters now is that Steve isn't hurt more. That Steve's kept alive.

Tony flicks a switch on the stealth rig which makes it emit a low-level disruption — any noise he makes for the next minute can only be heard in a metre's radius to him — and he answers Pepper, his chest feeling tight, his eyes burning hot. But he won't cry. Someone I loved. There's light in the pain, after all.

"Steve's the reason I'm doing all of this, Pepper," Tony tells her, and doesn't hide the tear in his voice. With his eyes closed, on the phone, it's easier to be honest with her. This is the truth, at the heart of it all. "If he died because of Stane coming after me?" He lowers the phone, even though Pepper's still on the line. The sentence is clear enough even without an end, but Tony finds himself saying the words anyway, even though Pepper won't hear them. "I might as well really be in that grave."

The picture on his phone, the StarkPark photo of Steve with his arm around Tony, of Steve looking at Tony, stares up at Tony mockingly. Steve is still so close. Tony could turn the corner and see him again.

One more look.

One more reminder of what he's doing this for.

One more temptation for Tony to fight, because it would be so easy to ruin everything. To run to him now. To paint a target on him bigger and brighter than the Empire State building.

By the time Tony steels himself to turn for that last look, Steve is gone.

Tony doesn't know whether to be upset or relieved.

He disengages the silence field, and waits a little longer to be sure, and then strides out over to his own grave, surreptitiously snagging a lily from another grave to place down so he looks like a regular mourner. He resists the urge to emphasise his limp. As he bends down to put the flower down, he pats the Iron Man mask and wonders, briefly, if Steve touched it too.

He thinks Steve would. To anchor himself to the truth that Tony was gone.

Tony's not touching it for the same reason, of course, and his fingers are covered in gloves lest some CSI whizkid realizes his fingerprints shouldn't be on top of everyone else's that has touched it since Tony's supposed death. He nimbly flicks the small data hub that SHIELD obviously hasn't found (or it would have melted on disconnection from the mask) as he does so.

He still lets himself imagine his fingers are touching the same place Steve did, and he lets himself smell the roses Steve left for him, and that gives him enough strength to not twitch at seeing his full name engraved in the stone, and to walk away and to the road to order another cab instead of chasing after Steve.

He turns the data hub over and over in his fingers, trying to think about that, not what he's losing out on. Someone I loved. There is damage to the small device; Tony's going to have to run it for a while through some complicated algorithms to retrieve what might be on it.

Pepper's waiting for him in the lab when he gets back, with a couple of steaming hot chocolates. He worries that she can predict him that well until he sees a tray of cold ones amassed at her feet; she's been waiting a long time for him.

Much like with Steve, Tony rarely has to start a conversation in a regular place. He tries hard not to think about how much he misses just talking to Steve. Their offbeat, ill-timed romance aside, Steve is — was? — his best friend, and it's like Tony's missing a vital organ not having him there.

Pepper's just as necessary though. He sits down next to her, peels off his jacket, but doesn't make a move to take off the stealth rig yet. It's already rubbing painfully into his skin, and it's going to be nothing compared to the Steel Corpse.

"I'm going to be strong," Tony says, looking straight forward, wrapping his hands around the mug of hot chocolate and swallowing back the instinctive reaction to ask her how old she thinks he even is. "The next couple of months are going to be hard and I'm going to be strong through them. I have to be."

Beside him, Pepper nods, a ghost of a movement.

"But just for now—" And that's all Tony manages to get out, because just for now, oh, just for now he's not going to be strong and he doesn't have to be strong, and everything crumbles down around him, like the walls are made of liquid and the world is melting around his feet, and Pepper's the only thing that's real. She holds him, making shushing noises into the back of his neck, and she's not the love of his life after all, but she's family and she's everything and Tony doesn't know who he would be without her. Probably really dead, in some ditch. Blazing up in a car crash, young. Like his parents.

He pulls away from her after enough time has passed for him to be able to drink the contents of the now-warm mug in his hand, and he wipes the back of his hand over his face and can't quite look Pepper in the eye.

"Oh, Tony," is all she says, and he sees a glimpse of the real emotion in her eyes, of her sadness for him, and it's almost enough to tip him back over the edge, but Tony's done. He's cried enough. He's only crying for himself, after all, and the time for selfishness is over.

"That's enough time feeling sorry for myself," he says, out loud. Pepper looks at him curiously. Tony straightens, puts his half-drunk mug down and looks across at the finished Steel Corpse suit. The empty holes in the mask stare back at him, forebodingly. "It's time for something else."

"For what?" Pepper asks.

Tony grins at her, reckless and tight all at once. "It's time for this Avenger to avenge his own death."

Chapter 9

It's the lack of being able to fly, Tony decides, that's really going to trip him up one of these days.

He's already had one embarrassing instance of being cornered by one of the security guards at this place, and he was halfway through taking off to fly — fist in the air, bent knees — when he remembered: Steel Corpse can't fly.

Well, technically the suit can. But Tony's only got enough juice in for one good flight, so it's got to be something he keeps in reserve.

Tony regretfully knocked the guy out with a big metal fist, mentally noted the guy's ID code so he can persuade Pepper to give him a pay rise when this is all over, and stormed through to his real destination.

He stands in front of the door to the lab and pauses for a moment. He's feeling pretty bad about this whole raid as it is, but it's necessary groundwork.

Tony knocks the switch in the wrist casing that keeps his voice inside the helmet, because EDWIN isn't as sophisticated as JARVIS and can't intelligently decipher between when Tony's talking to him or talking to someone else. (EDWIN — his Electronic Digital Warfare and Infiltration Network — was never designed to be anywhere near JARVIS' league; JARVIS was always going to be more than Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.) At least when Tony talks in his helmet, he can hear himself. When he has to talk through the speakers, the de-modulators turn his voice into an amalgamation of all the women Tony's slept with over the last ten years, and the speakers feed that voice back into the helmet too, so it's pretty disturbing, to say the least.

"EDWIN, calculate for me — the best way to proceed," Tony commands, his programs already identifying several weak points.

"Processing," EDWIN says, in her charming new voice. Tony smirks. As no one else will be hearing EDWIN, he allowed himself a small in-joke — where he gave JARVIS the voice of Paul Bettany, EDWIN's been programmed with Paul Bettany's wife's voice, Jennifer Connelly.

EDWIN sounds a lot like Betty Ross, thinking about it. Tony makes a mental note to tell Bruce — if he ever sees him again.

"You already have the passcode," EDWIN says, with a little bit of mulish tone to her computer-generated voice.

"Pretend I didn't," Tony says, trying not to sound too cross. Then he wonders why he's holding back — it's not like he's programmed EDWIN with anything near JARVIS' sensitivity, and even JARVIS' "hurt feelings" are nothing but code.

He misses JARVIS terribly, but he couldn't risk porting him across. Tony hopes Pepper's at least trying to use JARVIS to his full capabilities.

"Two options. First option. Break through the door. Weaknesses as highlighted on the lower screen. Second option. Return down the corridor to pick up the key card from the unconscious security guard," EDWIN intones.

Tony looks speculatively at the door, and the highlighted weak areas, but Tony doesn't have to tell himself that violence is the Iron Man play. Steel Corpse is less-impulsive. He jogs back up the corridor, supremely glad he worked on the pneumatic joints, because physically carrying the bulk of the Steel Corpse would not be the greatest plan in the world. Steel Corpse is large by necessity — it's a model they need to believe Tony's been working on with technology from five years ago, and making it larger let Tony make the feminine-hinting curves more pronounced. Running in the Steel Corpse is like walking without the suit on at all. It's easy.

The physical wear comes from being cramped up in a suit. And as soon as SHIELD pick him up — which shouldn't happen on this job, but is on the horizon — the suit's only designed to keep him alive for a week without being able to refuel. And without being able to drop his waste excretions? Ouch.

With all that, coupled with the wear of the suit on his skin even through the undersuit he's designed, Tony may very well die for real in this suit if SHIELD don't play ball like Tony expects.

So really, it's a good plan to do as much good in it as he can before that happens, and hope he has time to at least to install the waste drop before SHIELD do catch him.

He grabs the key card from the still-unconscious guard, and heads back to the lab, swiping it through and heading in. He knows the way despite the fact that Tony only visits his more remote facilities maybe twice a year — Obadiah was more hands-on in that regard, and every thought of him always brings a twinge of guilt that tastes like thin-crust pizza and the fancy German beers Obadiah liked, sour and yeasty, and Tony can't not think of Obadiah considering he's really the genesis of all of this.

Zeke Stane never understood, when Tony tried to explain it the first time Zeke tried to kill Tony, that Tony had no choice but to let Obadiah die. Zeke Stane will forever see Tony as the reason his father is dead. And who's Tony to really tell him otherwise. Obadiah's dead. He'd be alive if Tony wasn't.

In his melancholy, he strides right past the lab and over to the back door before he even really registers it. He startles when he catches his own reflection in the glass doors of the refrigerators — and he has to actually slow down a little, which will look strange when the authorities play back the tapes to see who's been playing merry havoc with a dead man's business, but Tony can't help it.

He's only now realized how similar the Steel Corpse is to Obadiah's Iron Monger.

Did he subconsciously do build the Steel Corpse to resemble the Iron Monger? Or is it only because the Iron Monger was based off the Mark Zero, and Tony built it and the Steel Corpse out of scraps? Did he really build himself a prison based on the image of someone he killed without actually noticing? And if he did, on some level, know what he was doing — is it to taunt Ezekiel Stane, or is it some manifestation of Tony's guilt, for not realizing how mentally unbalanced Obadiah was?

Tony doesn't know.

He doesn't have to in order to do this task. He turns grimly to the server room's door, and uses the Steel Corpse to smash it open, regardless of whether EDWIN thinks Tony Stark would do that or not; Tony has the overwhelming urge to destroy something, and it's probably better an innocent door (and the target of this run) than himself.

The servers hum brightly — right up until he takes his metal-encased fists and starts smashing into them. Tony knows which ones he has to take out completely, and he's glad he didn't acquiesce to the engineers who wanted to build a StarkCloud to store all the data. Tony might be a big proponent of the future, and always being on the cutting edge, but he's also surprisingly business-savvy for someone as business meeting phobic as he is; the problem with cutting edge technology, especially when it involves shareable data, is that it's not easy to protect. There are too many unknown variables, new angles to attack. Tony's steadfastly insisted on physical, locked-up data and analogue back-ups, and it's paying off now.

It's a superb light show of sparks as Tony methodically takes out the row of servers. He's planted the Steel Corpse videos in them in convenient spaces; SHIELD will be able to recover some of them, but not enough. It should make the whole ploy look completely real.

Tony heads next to the back-up storage room where the analogue back-ups are kept — and that's when the alarms start blazing. He picks up his pace. He knew his security systems would kick in eventually — Tony only cracked into the building as far as any other outsider with a disposable netbook could crack in — but this is super speedy. He really needs to recommend his security people for a raise when this is over. Tony doesn't have time for precise, and sprays the whole array of steadily recording tapes, still busy spooling over the records of the day, with a combustible oil. Steel Corpse has a whole range of weapons that Iron Man doesn't. Tony grins, and sparks the whole lot into flame with a Marauder-inspired flamethrower.

Just in time for three of his Security Guards to come barrelling in.

"Turn around, put your hands behind your head," the lead guard roars. Tony rolls his eyes, and turns, provocatively putting one hand on his hip and leaning his leg down. Like Pepper used to do when they were dating to get his attention. He flicks the switch in his wrist.

"Boys, you're fighting a human robot," Tony purrs through the modulator, the speakers amplifying his disjointed, fake female voice. "You think guns are going to help you now?"

"Stand down or we will open fire," the guard barks back, but with less certainty in his voice.

"Well, you're cute and all, but I don't have time to stand around and flirt," Tony says, and pushes back into his thrusters.

It isn't flying. That's not what he's engineered the Steel Corpse thrusters to do. The Steel Corpse thrusters basically give him super speed. To an extent. He's never been fully able to trial it, but even in a slightly lopsided circuit around his garage, he made it twice the speed of his regular running speed.

The three guards topple like bowling pins.

Tony hides his smirk for a moment as he takes off down the corridor, hearing their muffled, displeased cries. To their credit, two of the guards get back on their feet quickly and start chasing him down. Tony hears the distinctive ping! of a bullet glancing from his suit. They're close, but they won't be able to catch him.

Not with the spare stealth rig built into the suit. Not with his speed. Not with Tony's need to pull this off being far greater than their desire to catch him.

The whole security team on duty are after him now, but it's child play to get past them. Tony alternates between the super speed and regular speed, and dodges past the last three to the front glass doors of the building with glee. He covers his face automatically with his fists as he smashes straight through them. This isn't the time for subtlety. Underprepared and understaffed, Tony's security guys have no choice but to let him go. Tony makes it all the way to the woodlands before he hears it; the distinctive whirr of the Avengers' quinjet arriving on scene.

Tony activates the stealth rig. He's got the inside knowledge of all the quinjet's scanners, so he knows how to evade any scans. But he also knows that Steve's an old-time kind of guy. If they can't get a technological lock on him, it's only a matter of time before they follow the real-life trail Tony's put behind him. A metal-encased person can only smash through so many things without leaving a heavy trail of footprints.

Fortunately, Steel Corpse isn't the only rig around the area with stealth technology. Tony's ride is also hooked up to the hilt with it.

Tony hurries through the trees, still going lightning-quick. He's got plenty of energy, and plenty of time to recharge before his next mission. He slows when he reaches the waterline, and heads into the smaller version of the quinjet that he's been developing for longer than he's been working on the Steel Corpse. He waits until the Avengers' quinjet lands, its distinctive discharge spiralling through the air and above the trees, before locking the pod door and taking off into the sky.

He can't risk spying on the internal feed of the quinjet to know for sure, but he's pretty positive Clint or Logan — whoever the pilot of the day is — will spot his small craft visually even with the stealth technology on full operation. By the time they get the quinjet in the air it'll be too late.

Tony will already be gone.

---

Tony takes a short break before he suits up as Steel Corpse again. He can't risk hacking into SHIELD to know for sure, and he won't risk Pepper and get her to ask on his behalf, but if his calculations are correct, SHIELD will have taken Tony's servers into custody.

He smirks. Some of the panels he knocked out as the Steel Corpse were some choice pieces of technology that Fury would love to get his hands on. It's such a shame Tony permanently erased them with his fists, and a terrible shame that Tony's probably the only person alive who could easily replicate the lost designs. Fury must be seething that all he has available is several years' worth of meeting minutes, some obsolete designs, and some crazy half-formed videos about a secret he'll think Tony's been keeping that could have wiped out all the mutants in one easy go.

It's sort of terrible that if Steel Corpse were real, Fury would use it as a weapon against the X-Men. In fact, it's going to be exceedingly hard to convince Fury not to use Steel Corpse against the X-Men. Maybe that Xavier fellow will swing by. And hopefully not Magneto, Tony thinks, ruefully thinking of how much metal the Steel Corpse is made of.

Tony wishes he had another brain. Someone to talk to. There's a likely candidate he's been mulling over. Reed Richards. Possibly the only person in the world bar Bruce who could match Tony's brainwaves, although Tony not-so-secretly thinks Richards cheats, because he can expand his brain any time he wants. Scratch it all, Tony's smarter than both of them — Richards and Bruce were both trying to recreate, in some form, Dr. Erskine's experiments when they landed up with their superpowers. Real scientists manufactured their own superpowers. On purpose. Not accidentally. There were way too many mutated-by-experiments-gone-wrong scientists wandering around, and even more unfortunately, not all of them joined the good side.

It's too soon to go to Richards. Zeke may still expect it. Richards is a good back-up plan, though. Tony got his death threats when he was in Stark Industries and SHIELD facilities; the Baxter building is neutral and the Fantastic Four, for the most part, keep mostly to themselves when they can. If they had been involved in Tony's death threats, he would have run into them before now.

Tony takes another short outing as Steel Corpse, this time to send a signal to Ezekiel Stane; he goes out on a weekend during holiday time, and uses an impressive amount of explosives to take out Zeke's childhood school. It's empty — Tony makes sure to distract the lonely janitor prowling the halls by setting one of the sheds on fire first — and Tony takes pleasure in flicking the switch and walking away.

He's always had a flair for the dramatic; walking away from explosions is probably consistently his favorite thing about this whole superhero gig.

Besides, the school is a message. Tony's an Avenger. It's worth his life to spend it avenging the children Stane killed in the park. He isn't taking out anything physical of Stane's — that's for later — today's raging explosion is Tony taking out Zeke's memories.

Combined with SHIELD probably discovering the Steel Corpse footage by now, and Stane's mole leaking that footage to him, Stane will know pretty soon that he's not getting away with "killing" Tony any time in the immediately future.

Tony eases himself out of the Steel Corpse in the house at the other end of the city he's been using for a hide out, and goes to work on the other inner suit he's been working on as best as he can. It's a tighter knit, should draw out some of the sweat better into the receptacles, and will restrict the amount of air that will get to him, which should at least slow down the chance of infections. The rest of it — the catheter, the enema beforehand, the water system, the inspired-by-Zeke-Stane-himself calorie paste and the threat of blowing himself up if SHIELD try and take the suit off him — should all help him withstand however long he has to go in the suit without being able to take it off.

It's as he's stitching up the arms of the new inner suit that his array of laptops start beeping, and Tony puts down the needle and heads over to them. The program he came up with to salvage the content of the data hub he retrieved from his helmet has finally finished piecing together the fragments.

Tony sinks down onto the chair, takes a shaky breath, and plays the footage.

Much of it is fragments of his flight to the warehouse.

Tony knew Stane would make a move like he did — lure the Avengers one way, the Rice Stadium disaster ensuring they left Tony behind — and then make sure the radio signal SHIELD had been intercepting filled up with chatter about a warehouse on fire with people still inside. It was a test. Stane wanted to see what Tony would do. Would he risk staying in the mansion, hiding behind its advanced security systems, while innocent people were in danger?

Sadly, enough of Tony's self-destructive, self-sacrificial streak had made it into public knowledge, even though he's been trying his hardest to still be seen as selfish and prizing aesthetics-over-all, so Stane had rigged the warehouse up, much as the first one that had exploded on Tony a few weeks ago.

Stane apparently didn't expect Tony to fly into this one too.

Tony only had a half-ready version of EDWIN installed into the Mark Fifteen, but it was enough; EDWIN targeted the explosives. With no intention of hiding his identity now, Stane had programmed them all from one netbook. It was difficult, but Tony knows Stane's style and managed to reprogram it with a three minute delay, and reposition the explosives. He activated the stealth rig, climbed out of his suit, planted the biological evidence that would let all comers believe Tony exploded in his own suit, moved his helmet enough away that it might survive — and then he retreated, stealth rig on full, and stayed long enough in the vicinity to hear the warehouse go up. He trusted that he'd done his job right, and it paid off.

He was free.

The retrieved footage shows him flying down in front of the warehouse, but not entering it. It shows the screen as Tony reprogrammed the explosives, but not him planting the evidence; Tony's glad no one retrieved this data first. It shows a billowing storm of fire, and then a lot of smoke, and then the helmet obviously rocked over and fell face-down in the explosion. Dammit.

Tony's about to turn it off when he hears it:

Voices.

The helmet didn't pick up any pictures, but it picked up audio.

Tony immediately pauses the video and runs it through some of his best audio-algorithms, cleaning it up and amplifying it. He skips to the chunk of section where the audio goes haywire — someone talking.

"I can't believe I got him so early." That's definitely Stane. The childish enthusiasm, the Californian twang, the bragging notes. "Then again, of course I can believe it. Man, I made him into chunks. Run the DNA for me."

"Of course," another voice says. Tony frowns, and taps the shortcut for cutting out that sample of audio. When he gets into SHIELD, he might be able to crack into their voice recognition databases surreptitiously. "Yup. Tony Stark all right."

"And no sign on the CCTV?"

"A little bit of movement but it's not big enough to be a human male." Tony smirks — the stealth rig doing its job perfectly. "You did it."

"Guess I'm a little disappointed. I was looking forward to playing with him, messing with his head. More Rice Stadium arc reactor explosions," Zeke says, like he enjoyed it. Like he enjoyed ripping over a hundred people apart. Children. A pregnant woman. Families ripped in two. Tony seethes angrily. He's going to pull Zeke's head off personally. He's a monster.

"You can still trash on Stark's memory," the second voice says. "Take over all his areas. Green energy's got no other competition."

"We can step right into the breach. And when we turn on the world with the power, all anyone's going to remember is that they welcomed us with open arms."

Tony's blood runs cold. Not only has Zeke Stane co-opted his technology to propel his nightmarish feats, but now he's going to use Tony's motions for good, trying to get the world to accept greener technology, as a weapon too. He turns to look at Steve, to gain the reassurance Steve is thinking the same things as him—

—and he feels like a complete idiot. The move was automatic. Steve's not there, and Tony's on his own with this. Tony feels queasy and uneasy and doesn't know what belongs to rage at Stane's plans and casual attitude towards barbarity, and what belongs to the sharp barb of homesickness that bubbles through him at the reminder that Steve isn't there at his side.

"The Mandarin's going to be soooo pissed I got there first. A deal's a deal, though. C'mon, I'll fly you back home."

"If you must."

Tony sinks back into the chair thoughtfully. The Mandarin's his long-term nemesis — although most of the enmity is on the Mandarin's side. Tony's not too bothered about him until he's in front of him, being annoying and killing people. Steve's always said the Mandarin is a team target — they'll get him as soon as they can, and as thoroughly as they can, and Tony's always trusted that.

It shouldn't be a surprise that Stane seems to be working with the Mandarin. Which means Tony needs access to SHIELD's resources sooner rather than later. With those resources protecting him, Stane will be untouchable.

It'll also be terribly interesting to see what Stane's next moves will be. Stane won't be the only one making a move for green energy. With the Mandarin backing him, there'll be enough money to set up business, and protect Stane from SHIELD. The Avengers won't be allowed to touch him at first, that's a given. Stane wouldn't sound so gleeful about this plan otherwise.

What next?

Stane will definitely make some move to get the public on board. Probably some move of mass altruism, huge generosity. Some sort of giveaway, then. The public are fickle with their affection and can be bought. That's how Tony would do it, if he wanted to assert himself as a new power somewhere. Green energy is always attractive to the liberals. Stane will also spin things that it was Stark technology that blew up at the Rice Stadium event, and his efforts will never be militarized.

It means the military won't be too much of a worrying force, and may be a good avenue for co-operation later. It would be easy to convince Rhodey that Tony had left some plans for taking Stane down with Steel Corpse.

Still, Tony's thinking too far into the future. He needs to think what his next plans have to be. Without Tony himself at the head of Stark Industries, the market is primed for a Green energy takeover. Pepper might be able to convince the current scientists to stay on, but everyone knows Tony was spearheading the research, and only Tony knows (or knew, as they'll be saying now) how the arc reactor technology worked in any detail.

Tony couldn't risk writing that information down. The arc reactor technology is the most dangerous thing he knows how to do. In the wrong hands, it could be weaponized in the span of months. Stane's attempt at the technology without knowing the details has already proved to be deadly; with the information only Tony knows, Stane could rule the world.

Tony could rule the world, actually. The world's terribly lucky it has Pepper and Steve to help cut his ego down to size. People who call him egotistical have no idea how bad he really could be, unchecked.

No, the arc reactor technology is still mostly safe in Tony's head, but there's enough left in Stark Industries to be dangerous, and that will be something Stane will still be interested in. Stane will be focussing from now on staying as clear above ground as he can. The Mandarin's money will pay off his misdemeanours, but Stane will have to be squeaky clean to get the government on his side. He'll not risk doing anything illegal, that's for sure; he'll have to find a legal front man to further the aim of taking over green technology, until such a time as they have enough power and money to bring Stane into the picture legally and clear his name.

Stane won't risk venturing into public more than he has to, which will make him hard to track, unless Tony can do something to prompt Stane into it. It would have to be something huge. Something Stane would risk his hands for.

The Mark Zero.

Simple. Perfect. Tony's considering how to get Pepper to agree to sell it, when the laptop in front of him makes another sound, and he leans forward, automatically brushing his thumb against the trackpad, and realizes why the laptop's making noise.

Because Stane and his mysterious companion aren't the only voices that the helmet managed to salvage.

There's far off muttering, and then someone's voice becomes clear. "Oh, god, oh g—" Carol, then, but Tony's never heard her sound so desperate. "Clint, don't let Steve in. Hold him back, shoot him in the knee if you have to. Do not let him see this."

"Got it. Wha—" Clint makes an audible swallowing sound. "Got it," he repeats, and that's not like Clint, Clint always says something different even if he's saying the same thing he always does, he's never at a loss for words.

Apart from, apparently, in front of a dead teammate.

Tony should probably shut the feed off now, but he's frozen to his seat.

"Can't believe we fell for a diversion again," Carol mutters. "Oh, Tony, why didn't you wait for us?"

"Because I was busy faking my own death," Tony answers. And then realizes he's talking to a recording. Oh, well, he's never attributed sanity to his list of skills.

"Is it him?" Jan's voice, low and tremulous.

"You shouldn't be in here," Carol tells her, quiet. "Get to Cage. Tell him I need him to take Steve somewhere else. Somewhere not here. Use Logan if you have to."

"He'll know he's being waylaid," Jan says, an upset tone clear in her voice. "He—"

The footage skips then, which of course it does, it's not full, the chip got burned, and Tony hates that he didn't think to make it more heatproof, and then he feels silly because he's somewhat lucky so much of it survived the explosion.

"I won't be mollycoddled." Steve's voice is the next clear one on the recording. "What the hell can be so bad that I—"

"Hell, Cage, I give you one job," Carol says.

"You try stopping a living legend when he knows something's up," Cage grumbles. "Besides, he deserves to be here. You know he does."

"It might not be him," Jan says, in an awkward tone, because she's clearly thinking it is.

"You mean after I told him to stay in the mansion?" Steve asks, and there's a hard curl of bitterness and loathing obvious even through the muffled recording. "Yeah, this is Tony all right." There's the sound of something cracking. Maybe Steve's kicked something. And then the recording dies out, and Tony's left in silence, Steve's bitter tone ringing in his ears.

For a long while, all Tony's aware of is his heartbeat. It feels like it's multiplied somehow. He thinks if anyone came into the room right now they would hear it too.

But Tony's alone. And Steve thinks he's dead, and Tony did that to him, and Tony made him sound like that.

His heartbeat increases, and Tony's mouth is dry and the room is suddenly, terribly, too small. He lashes out, knocking the nearest laptop away, and he shoves the chair back so hard it careens into the table where he laid the Steel Corpse out after taking it off.

The mask rocks from the blow, tilting over, staring at Tony with its blanked out eyes.

"What are you staring at?" he mutters, and sweeps out of the room. He needs a drink.

And screw that, too. Tony makes it part of the way towards the other room in the house he uses to store things — a mattress, some food — before he remembers he's not drinking.

His fist is through the plaster of the nearest wall before he even thinks about doing it. He doesn't even really register the sting of the pain; his first thought is, of course, maybe I'm turning into dad. Howard Stark had a hell of a temper which he only showed to his family.

Tony's self-destructive only up to a certain point, so he sits down and cleans up his bruised and bloodied knuckles so he doesn't get an infection. When he wraps them up he cries a little because there's no one around he needs to be stoic in front of. It's easy to sink into denial and pretend the small moment of tears is for the physical pain, not the realization of what he's done to his friends. What he's made them believe.

He's wondering what to do next, when he realizes he doesn't need to run the voice sample of Zeke Stane's associate through SHIELD's databases at all. Tony already knows that voice. Someone who would be more than happy to step into any open space in the market with a technology Tony excelled in.

"Justin Hammer. That son of a bitch," Tony mutters. A voice in his head tells him tauntingly, what's the first sign of madness? It's talking to yourself, Tony.

The voice in his head sounds so uncannily like Steve that Tony has to swallow back a mouthful of bile. He remembers that conversation fondly. Tony had been working out a problem that had been bugging him for weeks, muttering the formula beneath his breath, and Steve just broke out with it. They never did start a conversation with hello, after all.

"The second sign of madness is answering," Tony told him in return.

"The third is answering back."

"The fourth is hair on your palms."

"Don't tell Logan."

"The fifth is looking for them."

"The sixth is finding them."

"I'm so sure," Steve said, "that my IQ was higher before meeting you."

"Mm, delusions are a common side effect when you accidentally deep freeze yourself."

Tony shakes himself. This isn't a time to linger in the past. This is a time to focus on shaping the future. If he lingers too much on what has been, Tony will remember what he's missing out on. Like how Steve's mouth feels against his. Like how it feels to inhale Steve's exhales. Like how it feels to sleep in his arms.

Shit, Tony's depressing himself now.

There's one thing guaranteed to cheer him up.

Making a plan that will cause some serious hurt to Stane and Hammer and the Mandarin and anyone else that gets in his damn way.

It doesn't take a lot of research to find out the best likely target — Tony had thought it odd earlier in the year when Hammer suddenly needed to build two new facilities in Singapore. Liaising with the Mandarin is something the idiot would do, and the Mandarin would definitely enjoy bankrolling another of Tony's enemies.

He needs to hit one of them. Tony drives the beat-up Nissan Versa he's carefully remodelled to not be quite so crappy around the neighborhood until he finds an easy wi-fi to crack. He spares a minute to crack a smile at the neighbor's wi-fi name — ERMAHGERD HERTSPERT — before logging in and starting to crawl the deep web.

It doesn't take Tony long to find it: a notification for new personnel in the Hammer facility on the north-eastern island facility. Tony's got a few contacts in Malaysia he's pretty sure are safe if the operation goes belly-up, and if he flies the miniquinjet into Changi International Airport and packs the sub, he should get there undetected.

It's been a while since Tony's not been able to just fly himself to the place he wants to go. Flying is definitely one of his favorite Iron Man perks.

New personnel at the Hammer facility means Hammer's working on something he doesn't want people to know about. It's a good trick — you hire new people, and get them to work on one aspect of your technology. Then you fire them, and hire more people to work on the next part. Then you hire another spree of people to work on the final pieces.

Sure, you've got a lot of people who've seen your machine in construction, but with so many people working on so many disparate pieces, there's not one person apart from yourself who knows how they all fit together. And that's the real secret of technology; the sum is always greater than its parts.

So if it's the Tekong facility needing new workers, that's the place with whatever Stane and Hammer are working on, and that's the place Tony needs to hit. He shuts down the netbook, takes out the hard drive, and uses the Versa to back over it until its shattered into pieces.

He hopes he's able to cover his trail as well now he's going to need to cross international waters.

Chapter 10

Getting over there ends up being easier than Tony thought it would be.

Getting into the facility and blowing it up, that's going to be the difficult job.

Unable to risk landing his sub near the facility, Tony lands it several miles away, and has to crash through miles of dense forest. It's hot, too, and the cooling system Tony installed in Steel Corpse is okay, it's just not as good as Iron Man's. The water filtration system works pretty well, though, and the solar panels on his back — in the blazing heat of the day — were an inspiration. Tony barely loses 0.2% of his power in the trek to the HAMMER facility, and that's only because he's pushing things to their fullest.

It's worrying travelling that far in what amounts to a heated metal can with a large container of explosives, but then, Tony's never been one to play things completely safe. He's always been a little sorry for the way he drove three different complements of his Health and Safety department to nervous breakdowns when he was still CEO of Stark Industries.

There's an upside and a downside to HAMMER's facility holding a substantial amount of petroleum onsite. The upside is, once Tony's strategically planted his own explosives around the place, the whole place should go up like a matchstick factory.

The downside is that Singapore fire regulations are stricter than they are in America, and even if Tony manages to start a fire, set off the alarms and cause an evacuation, there'll be a CERT team to deal with — a Company Emergency Response Team who will be trained to react to the situation. Tony will need to make the fire big enough to get them all to evacuate the building and not try and fight it, but small enough not to injure anyone.

Tony smirks to himself. This is one fire Dummy won't be able to extinguish. And damn, now he's even missing his stupid robot. He sighs, the sound muffled in the helmet, and calls up the overlay of the building. Justin Hammer had some blueprints for the building available, but he's not putting it past the moron to have made last minute changes to save money.

He's got a lot of experience of improvisation under his belt, and the hour's only getting later, so Tony takes a few deep breaths and moves into action.

He decides on going for the scary route, rather than having to go through the effort of knocking out security guards and then having to laboriously carry them outside the building, so he orders EDWIN to unfurl most of his weapons like he's a metaphorical peacock, and charges into the building. It's easy to circumvent Hammer's external security systems — punching a hole through the wall avoids pesky things like door sensors.

Tony barrels down to the storage area with little incident — if you call frightened workers scurrying and screaming for their lives little incidences. Tony does. He's pleased to find that the cost-cutting Hammer has done just makes Tony's life easier. It's child's play to disable his sprinkler system. Hammer even built one of the elevator shafts but didn't populate it with anything; Tony's able to slide down to the basement storage levels and punch through the doors with ease.

He does set off a sensor down here, so he sets a fire and watches the whole building light up with its fire alarms. Striding past employees as they scurry the other way for the fire stairs is strangely satisfying.

By his calculations, the fire should be enough to dissuade the CERT team from tackling the fire themselves. The nearest fire response team is a ten minute drive from the facility, and it should take them a few minutes to realize their sprinkler system isn't engaging. The foam systems might engage in the computer labs, but Tony's not bothered about burning the place down piece by piece.

He wants to raze the place to the ground. The more of Stane's supplies and resources he can take out, the better.

The fact that Hammer's involved, and Tony can spite him personally, just sweetens the whole deal.

Tony's part-way through planting the explosives around the petroleum storage area when he hits a major snag. A snag he definitely did not anticipate.

A snag in the shape of Luke Cage.

Shit. Tony flips the switch so that his modulated-female voice will sound, and sends a barrage of warning shots at Cage, who has to leap back out of the doorway. Tony can already hear him calling down the comm line to Ms. Marvel and Hawkeye. Shitshitshitshitshit. He doesn't know why he didn't think the Avengers might find clues which would lead to the same conclusions. He hopes like hell the Avengers haven't tracked him here, because that means he's not being as careful as he thinks he is, and that means Pepper's in terrible danger.

Working quickly, Tony attaches another chunk of explosives to the room, hooks up the timer he constructed, and hopes like hell he can lure the Avengers out of the place before the place blows sky-high.

To do that, he needs to be bait.

Which means he needs to be seen as a villain.

Instead of the escape route he had planned, Tony heads for the stairs, crunching up them at a speed he knows Luke Cage can follow. The Avengers have already found that he entered the basement through the elevator shaft — Tony can hear footsteps below him as he careens up the stairs. He's being followed. Good.

Jan will be in small form. There aren't enough lives at risk for her to go giant and risk wearing herself out. Tony starts to crank up the power to his flamethrower; burning Spider-Man's webs is his best bet. He will need to run rather than face Logan — the adamantium claws would peel through Steel Corpse like a can opener.

Then again, SHIELD should have some of the Steel Corpse videos by now from the Stark facility Tony trashed. They should know about the mutant virus. Logan shouldn't put himself at risk to take Tony down — but that doesn't, in Tony's experience, mean Logan won't.

Tony hopes like hell he's not fighting the full complement of current Avengers. He also hadn't considered until this point that they may have already drafted in a replacement. If it's a mind-reader, he's got to be ready as hell to make a pitch for them to keep his secret.

His Rice Stadium memories are still raw and fresh enough to do that, he thinks.

If, on the other hand, they've gone to the trouble of finding Bruce, or if they've pulled Natasha in from her work with Daredevil (top secret, so of course Tony knows about it), Tony's going to be in trouble very quickly.

Taking advantage of the protection of the Steel Corpse suit, Tony takes a sharp left when he bursts out from the stairs and goes through the fire he set. It's raging quite happily. He can almost hear the whine of a fire engine in the distance, but it's too late — by the time it arrives, Tony's explosives will be busy turning the whole building into sawdust.

Of course, when he exits the building, he does so right into a waiting semi-circle of Avengers.

Tony really thought he could make more hits on Stane before being caught by them. Being caught by them is an integral part of his plan, but he had been banking on a little bit more freedom.

And a little more time before having to come face-to-face with Captain America.

It's a good thing that the pneumatic joints of Steel Corpse keep him upright, because Tony's knees do go a little strange on seeing Steve. It's not from the giddy attraction he can now admit he's been feeling on seeing his best friend in the past, though. It's terrible, weakening guilt.

"You'd best get your people out of that building," Tony says, taking the offense, because Tony Stark is usually more about the defence at the end of the day.

Steel Corpse's female tone rings around the clearing. Over in the distance, the Singapore workers are huddling away and looking confused and scared. Some are pointing at him, others are taking pictures of the Avengers.

"I'm not getting an evil vibe from her," Carol mutters to Steve, obviously thinking she's only talking loud enough to be picked up by the Avengers comm signal. Then again, Tony designed the Avengers comms, and has programmed the Steel Corpse helmet to pick up on the same modulating frequency the comms use.

"Stand down and deactivate your explosives," Steve barks, fully in his no-nonsense Cap tone. "Remand yourself into our custody and you won't be harmed."

Tony side-eyes the small countdown in one of his displays, and sags in relief as he sees Cage and Logan come out of the building.

"I would," Tony says, the Steel Corpse voice sounding harsh to his ears. But then, that's the idea. It's not supposed to sound anything like him. "But I can't." Tony Stark is loquacious, so Steel Corpse will have to be terse. Laconic with her words.

"Remand yourself into our custody peacefully," Steve grits out. There's no emotion on his face at all. Even his eyes, visible behind his mask, are blank. It's eerie. "Or we will be forced to take action."

Tony tilts his head arrogantly, and mentally counts his opposition: Captain America, Hawkeye, Wolverine, Jan in her Wasp form, Ms. Marvel and Cage. Spider-Man's not there, but then again, his appearances are always hit and miss. This isn't a fight he's going to win; escape is his only option.

"I'm not fighting her," Logan says.

"Don't you hit girls?" Cage baits back, his upper lip curling.

"In the face," Logan growls, "when they ain't carrying a bug that could wipe me out."

"Try not to damage the shell," Steve says.

What, am I a turtle? Tony wants to snap, but swallows it back in time.

"You might want to let us all move," Tony says, glaring them all down. "Otherwise the next minute is going to suck."

Steve's eyes fly to the building, then back to him. "You're bluffing," Steve says, hard and sure.

Tony shakes his head.

"Then we'll move," Carol tells him, hovering up in the air, "but you're coming with us. We want to avenge Tony's death as much as you do."

"You 100% sure that's what I'm up to?" Tony asks, and the countdown in the corner of his vision hits 10 seconds. This is going to suck, he tells himself, and then, even though the Avengers are going to react, he powers up the suit and starts to run.

Jan's blasts hit him first, and then it's Steve's shield, taking him off his feet. Tony tumbles head over heels and smashes into a tree, and the Avengers could easily round him off now — except the countdown reaches zero and the thankfully empty facility behind him explodes.

This close, it really does suck. Tony wants to stop, to stay behind, to see how the Avengers are, because they were all too freaking close to the blast — what the hell was Steve even thinking — but he can't risk holding back. He's off like a shot as soon as he can scramble to his feet.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Tony doesn't know what to want more — to escape, or to see if he's physically hurt his friends from his reckless plan. It's not a dilemma for long, because the Avengers don't seem to have been hurt by the exploding debris; they're only delayed a little, and then all six of them are on his trail, and that really sucks.

He pushes his suit to the maximum. Carol, of course, can keep up with him; Steve's augmented speed is going to be troublesome too. Thankfully for Tony the trees will keep Clint's arrows from him. Carol's stayed too close to him for her to be able to fly Clint up high enough to do any damage to him. Logan's already fallen back, obviously in fear of being eaten by the Steel Corpse's mutant virus, and Cage is strong and fast but only human. If Jan pulls out her Giant Girl routine Tony might be screwed, but she's in her Wasp form, and her blasts are deadly.

Tony thinks he's lost one of his tail at first, but then he catches a glimpse of red, white and blue to the far right — Steve's trying to hem him in, push him over. Shepherd him to where they want him to go. Far in the distance, Tony can also hear the quinjet — as his arrows can't strike him, then Clint's going to try and blast him out with the quinjet's weapons.

"We only want to talk to you," Carol manages as soon as she flies near enough to be in hearing range. Tony lets EDWIN take aim at the air around her, and she falls behind. Tony barrels through the space beneath the trees with speed, but it's not enough — something red and fast smashes into his side and he's smacked left with enough force that he rolls over three times and tips down a slope he hadn't registered.

Tony rolls, tries his best to slow his descent, and when he eventually manages to straighten he's in a small clearing. Steve's much too far away now — rolling is always a fast means of escape even if it means escaping in slightly the wrong direction, and it's done nothing to slow Carol's flight after him, but it has done one thing.

It's put him in sight of Clint's weapons on the quinjet. Tony turns and starts to flee again in the direction of his sub when the weapons power up and slam down into the clearing.

He knows from the way he's thrown forwards that he's been hit, but he doesn't have time to slow down and assess the damage. Tony pushes all the power he has into his legs and runs.

It takes a few more minutes for Tony to reach the edge of the trees. Thankfully, probably in fear of breaking the suit and unleashing the Steel Corpse's supposed mutant virus, Clint doesn't take a shot at him again — Tony can't see the quinjet. He swaps the power from his movement to the stealth rig, and heads for the water.

Even though the Avengers know Tony can go underwater, he kicks up enough fuss at having to do it (when it's not for fixing up big Stark towers, naturally) that it's probably why Tony's not discovered. After a tense ten minutes which feels like ten hours, Tony powers through the shallow water, climbs into his sub, and heads for the mainland and his jet. Hopefully he'll be halfway home before they even think that he didn't land a jet of some kind directly on the island itself.

Tony's hurt though. Badly hurt. He can feel it now he's sat relatively still in the comfortable pilot's seat of his sub. When he gets into his jet, he yanks the helmet off and has to throw aside two packs of aspirin before he can find the acetaminophen — he can't risk any non-steroidal anti-inflammatory painkiller in case it increases the blood flow at the site of his head injuries. The events post-Malibu, and the close relationship Tony's held with concussions, means that Tony at least knows the symptoms of severe brain injury off by heart.

While he's not unreasonably drowsy, unconscious, vomiting, or bleeding from the ears, Tony can't quite discount some of the other brain injury symptoms; his eyesight, for example, feels a little blurry, but that might be just blood. He feels nauseous, but that could be the concussion itself or the injury. The pains from his other injuries cloud everything. He recites the periodic table under his breath to try and check his mental acuity as he considers his options.

He could risk going to a local hospital, or touchdown in another country on the way where he might get away without someone recognising him (and pointing out he's supposed to be dead), or he can hope he's not so badly injured that he can make it back to the States.

Tony plumps for the last one. If he can make it back before he passes out from the pain, he's going to need help.

"Reed Richards it is," Tony mutters, and sets a course for the States as fast as he can while keeping the stealth technology on its highest setting. He settles his mouth into a grim line, and hopes like hell that not all of the Fantastic Four are home.

Not because they can't keep secrets. No, the Fantastic Four are loyal, and can't have had anything to do with Tony's death threats, because he hasn't seem hide nor hair of them for a long time.

No, it's just... The Storm siblings are annoying, Reed is kind of pompous when he's being righteous, and Ben Grimm is simply weird. Putting them all together is like going out for a night in the city with Logan and Cage: like the worst kind of hangover in the world.

Tony sighs, and winces in pain because there's no one around to see him, and reminds himself how very few options he has. He reminds himself that it's all his fault, he chose this, and it's all for the greater good.

It doesn't cheer him up much.

---

What does cheer him up is Reed's expression when he comes into his lab and finds Tony lying on his examination table, the Steel Corpse helmet removed, grinning cheekily at him.

"Ah," Reed says, faintly, and his head takes a moment to follow his rear down onto the nearest seat. Tony flinches a little — it's never not weird to see the stretching in action, and he's definitely jealous of the material of Reed's suit allowing his body to turn every which way. "Oh. When the genetic samples came back a match, I didn't even consider a set-up."

"I'm not sorry," Tony tells him. "You would have done the same."

Reed smiles thinly. "I would have told Sue first," he says, although he doesn't sound 100% convinced.

"Right answer, honey," a female, slightly-pissed-off voice says, and then Sue appears out of nowhere, standing at Tony's feet, looking down at him. She reaches out and pushes at Tony with not inconsiderable force. "What the hell were you thinking, Stark? I went to your funeral. Your best friends cried for you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call Steve Rogers right now."

"Because I'm barely holding on after the Pelham Bay Park, Rice Stadium tragedy?" Tony tries. "Over a hundred people, Sue."

Sue frowns. "Not good enough."

"Because Zeke Stane would kill Steve, with the sole purpose of hurting me," Tony says, and he shrugs out how useless he feels and then winces, because the quinjet blast has caused some serious damage. He looks at Sue, willing her to understand. He knows her of old — flirted with her quite a bit in the past, of course — and he knows she's a sappy, sentimental type. So he swallows his pride and says it. "I love him, Sue. The idea of Steve being hurt because someone's after me? I couldn't survive that. Don't ask me to even—"

Tony's surprised by how fast his voice accelerates, how hard it is suddenly to breathe, and how impossibly much he means it.

Sue's eyes go wet almost immediately. "Tony Stark in love. I guess I never thought I'd see the day. Reed, do what you can to help. I'll go fudge the security cameras so you can get out more easily when he's done."

Tony nods, because saying thank you would kill the last vague shred of personal dignity he's clinging onto and Sue smiles almost fondly at him as she leaves the lab.

Reed's gentle as he peels the Steel Corpse from Tony's back — it helps that he can be literally everywhere at once — and he's kind enough not to whistle too loudly at the damage. "You should be in a hospital," Reed says.

"Didn't you see the news? The last hospital I was in, Zeke Stane blew it up."

"Really neat work on the substitution, and I combed through the videos SHIELD retrieved twice. The genetic blueprints for the mutant virus? Perfect. I'd almost believe it could actually work." Reed pauses and squints. "It doesn't work, does it?"

"No," Tony says, with a grin. "It's the chemical breakdown of Wolverine's sweat. Mixed with a little bit of streptococcal pharyngitis."

"Genius," Reed says.

"That's like saying hello for us, right?"

Reed smiles indulgently. "I presume you've been collecting your genetic material for a while? It was a fairly conclusive amount of Stark DNA scattered across that warehouse floor."

"Five years," Tony says. "It helps when you get in those flesh-tearing battles. I got some muscle from one of those once, good times." He side-eyes Reed and his unstable molecules. "I guess you don't know that feeling?"

"I've been scraping skin cells," Reed tells him enthusiastically. "From me, Sue and the kids. And I have some of Johnny's hair ready to set on fire if we need to fake his death."

It's nice talking to another scientist, even one as unfairly gifted as Reed Richards, because they make the same mental leaps. Unfortunately, it means Stane might still be considering that Tony faked his death, because Stane — as loathe as Tony is to admit it — is just as much a genius as they are. The sooner Tony can take out Stane's resources the better. "I'll fed-ex you a copy of my stealth gear when this is all over," Tony promises. "Practical invisibility from satellites."

"Radiation?" Reed questions.

"Sound."

"Fascinating," Reed breathes, and Tony believes that he means it. "Are you on any other medication?"

"Swallowed two acetaminophen on the flight here in case of concussion," Tony grunts. "And before you ask no, my blood alcohol is clear."

"Wasn't going to," Reed says, "but good to know. Clonidine fine?"

"When did you qualify as an anaesthesiologist?"

"I didn't," Reed says, cheerfully, already part of the way through administering the epidural. "But I had some in for another experiment, and you have no other viable alternative. Best hope I don't miss, eh?"

Tony grits his teeth and tries not to glower too much. He is grateful for the help.

It's a low-end spinal dose that Reed administers, and Tony grits his teeth when it starts to wear off, not wanting another dose. He wants to be able to move as soon as possible.

Reed notices his grimace of pain, but doesn't suggest more clonidine; instead, he starts talking. Distracting Tony.

"SHIELD called me in, actually," Reed says, as he starts doing something to Tony's back that Tony's not entirely sure he wants details of. Reed always talks like he's discussing the weather — and sometimes breaks off into scientific jargon halfway through a casual conversation. "Wanted me to help them find out how the death threats were coming through."

"Find anything?"

"You didn't bring any version of JARVIS with you, to your fake death exile?"

Tony tries to push himself up, because that's kind of a ridiculous question. "JARVIS has been sending me death threats?"

Reed firmly shoves him down, and then ties his right leg around Tony's body for extra support, and that's never not creepy to see. "No, someone's slipped some extra code into his parameters."

"He had been getting more sarcastic. I'd hoped that was the adaptive parameters." Tony smiles wryly through the pain. "Damn. I do hate getting shanked by my own ego."

"Simply a few lines of code," Reed says. "Sent instructions for the death threats to be printed out, and an order for a SHIELD employee to put them in a certain place."

"That accounts for nine of them," Tony says, thinking about it. "Three of them have to have had further manipulation."

"A mole," Reed says. "I'd hoped not, but it must be. Okay, sit up."

Tony twists painfully, and meaningfully eyeballs Reed's leg, still stretched and wound around him. Reed looks apologetic and retracts his leg, and Tony manages to lever himself into a sitting position.

"Don't suppose you'd take this doctor's advice to rest?" Reed asks, his expression already clearly indicating he knows Tony's answer.

"Your PhD's are in physics and electrical engineering," Tony says, shuffling with difficulty.

"I have a medical degree or two," Reed says, but acquiesces the point. "You're welcome to use my equipment to fix your exoskeleton."

"Appreciate it, Reed." Tony manages to push himself to the edge of the bed, and he looks intently at the stretchy scientist. "Is this a bad time to ask for another favor?"

"Let's see," Reed says, still in his amiable, conversational tone. "You break into my home. If Stane knows you're alive — and it's possible, don't give me those harmless puppy dog eyes, Stark, I've known you for most of my life and it doesn't wash with me — then you've painted a target on not just me but my family. Plus, you're bleeding all over my favorite examination table."

"I'll buy you a new one," Tony says. "When I'm less dead."

"What's the favor?" Reed folds his arms.

"I need you to liaise with Pepper. Provide a legitimate reason to sell my Mark Zero."

"Why would you—" Reed starts, but his brain works on overdrive and he doesn't need to finish the question. "The heavier iron content would make it very easy to smelt in a tracking device. Maybe even a listening bug. Even the Mark Zero can be retro-engineered to scope out the Iron Man technology. Couple that with the arc reactor technology he used in the Rice Stadium tragedy, Stane won't be able to resist buying it. He'll see it as him succeeding in the area his father should have done." He makes an aborted movement to pat Tony's shoulder. "Amazing." He hesitates, and opens his mouth and closes it, shuffling a little.

"SHIELD will notice you working with Pepper to do it," Tony says. "I'm cool with you notifying them. Just give me ten minutes. A tiny head start. What can one man in a metal suit do with ten minutes, huh?"

"I know you, Stark," Reed says, shaking his head, "you can do an awful lot in ten minutes."

Tony grins, all teeth, and leans back, posing a little. "Aren't you a little bit intrigued to see how much?"

Reed's sheepish grin is all the answer he needs.

Chapter 11

Tony Stark would go out and do things as fast as possible. Eliminate anything and everything in his way as quickly as he can, and invent something to do it faster if anything is slowing him down.

That's what Tony Stark would do, so that's not what Tony can do.

It's enough to give anyone a headache.

Pepper lets him know in no uncertain terms how difficult it is to convince the Stark Industries' board to let them sell the Mark Zero; in the end, she has to wrangle a deal for them to get a percentage of the profit in one of her magical tax-free methods.

When it's finally done, Tony has to smother the proud grin he wants to wear, because the suit goes for two billion dollars to a private collector. Rhodey is apparently furious (on behalf of the armed forces, of course), but Tony can't spare more than a thought for his friend; Rhodey still has the War Machine. He thinks War Machine is about as retro-engineerable as the payment protection system he programmed for Pepper (as an apology present for something he merrily messed up; he can't quite remember what. It might have been the thing with Tom Cruise and the goat in Dakota. Tony loses tracks of his misdemeanours sometimes.)

Tony lucks out with the signal planted in the Mark Zero — Reed passes a message via Pepper with the first location the tracker ends up. Reed must be confused as hell as to why Tony doesn't make a hit on it, because it has to be where Zeke holes up when he's not jetting to Singapore and making weapons with Justin Hammer, and it's got a definite Stane emotional connection — it's Zeke's childhood home, as a matter of fact.

Tony does need to make some sort of hit on it, to hide what he's really planning to do with the information. He blew up Zeke's school, so blowing up his childhood home would be dull, if satisfying. He wants Zeke to get stubborn. To want to stay in it regardless, so Tony will know where he is when the time comes. Surviving some sort of onslaught would bring out that sort of stubborn instinct, Tony thinks. So he goes for a drive again, steals someone else's wi-fi, and hacks into the power grid to mess up Zeke's progress, and then leaves some compelling and interesting messages for the FBI, CIA and NSA. Then, on a whim, because although he's trying to take the Tony Stark out of Tony Stark, he can't totally — he signs Zeke up to three dating websites, one casual sex-finding service, a maid service and for seven separate mail-order brides.

It's not going to dent Zeke's progress much but it does cheer Tony up a little.

It's a few weeks later when Reed sends him the next location and a message:

From the volume of gas my satellite picked up on, it's a gun depot and there's already been at least one explosion.

Tony's already formulating a plan when the second message comes through:

You've got an hour.

---

It's faintly ominous that Zeke's weapon supplies are in the States, but at least it's a relatively short trip. Tony sets EDWIN to calculate the best way into this facility as he hacks into the facility's own internet connection to break into the government's databases, to see if he can retrieve some blueprints.

Reed is right — at some point this facility has suffered some sort of explosion. It happens when facilities that aren't built to store weapons are suddenly smothered in various explosive materials. Especially if it's being done under the government's radar. Now all Tony has to decipher is whether this previous explosion helps or hinders him.

It either means this place will be easier to flame up than Johnny Storm after a few rounds of tequila, or they'll have gone the other way; made the place super hard to catch alight. Tony's explosive supplies are limited, but Reed will be passing on the location information to SHIELD; the Avengers are already on their way.

It doesn't matter if they catch him or not now his waste disposal system has been installed. Being taken in is part of the plan; when it happens he has to ensure that he puts up a fight. Loki let himself be taken too easily that first time. Tony hates to take lessons from supervillains, but that's the only way to stop them sometimes. Think like them. Act like them until the end, and twist at the very last minute.

"I've finished calculating," EDWIN says. "Your odds are improved by going in the front door and going fast. There are systems wired up throughout the facility that will call in back-up within twelve minutes. Go straight, cause damage, and get out in ten minutes for optimal success."

"All guns blazing," Tony says, and starts to power up the Corpse's weapons, "that I can do."

"Query: guns are set to projectile mode. A blazing mode hasn't been specified. Specify parameters now?" EDWIN asks, as Tony cranks up the movement settings of the Steel Corpse and starts running towards the building, the cameras and screens already pinpointing the location of the security guards behind the fence.

"Negative," Tony says. "The blazing part is all on me." He smirks and uses one of his self-designed kinetic energy penetration cannons to blast himself a large enough hole in the metal wiring fence. Two security guards hurtle in, spot him, and start running away, screaming.

It's not exactly a quiet method of gaining entrance, but the Steel Corpse is more than enough to deal with any amount of weaponized civilians. Hopefully. Unless they're packing actual HEAT, he thinks with a snigger. He should be okay. Even if Stane is stocking any high explosive anti-tank warheads, they'll be stored in crates to avoid repeat in-house explosions. It would take someone eight minutes to load a weapon and try firing, implying a direct hit first time, but Tony suspects something else: namely, any civilian or mercenary hired by Stane to protect this place, will probably be too busy running to go for weapons.

Especially with the high number of scientists that will probably be on site along with the weapons. Stane will have sent the Mark Zero somewhere where it can be taken apart and retro-engineered for him, not to a simple weapons' depot.

Blowing up this facility should be relatively easy. Although maybe it's already too easy — shouldn't more than two security guards have come running towards him?

"Unspecified energy emission ahead," EDWIN interrupts, as Tony heads for the corner.

Okay, Tony's easy thought was definitely a moment too soon, then, and probably very wrong. Dammit.

"Bring up the levels for me, EDWIN," Tony orders. "Lower left screen."

"Confirmed."

The display kicks in, and EDWIN calculates the answer at about the same second as Tony sees the answer.

"Damn it." Tony edges to the side. There's definitely a reason he didn't attract more security guards.

They're already busy.

With the Avengers.

And three of the u-Foes, which is supremely irritating, and explains why EDWIN couldn't distinguish the Avengers' energy signature (mostly, the helicarrier, Jan's wasp blasts and Cage's weapons) from the u-Foes enough to give a clear enough signal.

Tony doesn't have time to stand and assess the situation. The u-Foes are blocking the exit, and they seem to be kind of winning against the Avengers.

Huh.

He knew losing Iron Man would be a blow for them, but he never expected them to actually have to fight harder. His ego does a tiny dance, and then he knocks on his "outside voice" and moves in to help.

It's only Vector, Vapor and Ironclad fighting today. Jan seems to be struggling on her own with Vapor, using her Wasp stings to keep her back. She's apparently figured out a way to stop Vapor transforming fully — she's bouncing the blasts up from the ground, and Vapor's mutating every which way but into a solid wave of her trademark green gas.

Vector's busy throwing Cap, Carole, Cage and Spider-Man every which way. Clint's up a tree, trying to hit arrows at both him and Ironclad — trying and succeeding of course, because Clint has to be hurt badly to miss, but the arrows aren't doing much damage. Logan's trying to take on Ironclad single-handedly, which is probably the best they can do without getting Giant Girl in there — but Jan's too busy holding down Vapor to transform into her supersize alter-ego.

Tony needs to get in and support Jan, try and free her up; Vapor will go to her fully human form at some point, and then it'll be the matter of one blast to take her down again. X-Ray isn't there. There has to be a reason for that, but Tony can't think clearly above the din of the battle.

Of course, he needs to get to Jan — but Ironclad's in the way, having a fistfight with Logan. Logan's trademark claws are out, the adamantium probably the one thing hard enough (apart from maybe Cap's vibranium shield, but he's busy with Vector), that the Avengers have in their disposal capable of even denting Ironclad.

The Avengers don't have his arsenal. Tony gears up the closest thing he has in his weaponry to a HEAT. It's a somewhat smaller version, and he only has two in his arsenal, (otherwise Steel Corpse would be bigger than War Machine, and as a cheaper version of the suits, Tony's power would drain like no-brand batteries with that sort of punching power) and sends it right into Ironclad's butt.

He can't hide the smirk, and it's full-on Tony Stark amused arrogance, but that's the great thing about a thick iron mask: no one can see him do it.

Ironclad sprawls forwards, but Logan looks up to see where the aid has come from — and Ironclad punches him under the jaw for it. And as Tony takes the opportunity to speed past them and over to where Vapor's trying to turn into a poison cloud, Ironclad lashes out, smacking him in his left side, and Tony tumbles feet over head.

The pneumatics in Steel Corpse are better than Iron Man's — Tony pistons himself back onto his feet and turns to find himself face first in front of Vector.

"This is going to suck," Tony sighs.

"Understatement," Vector growls, and uses his power to repel him over to the Avengers attacking him.

One thing Tony resents about his Avengers' experience is not the experience of knowing what it's like to be a human bowling ball — but the experience of knowing what that's like multiple times.

He probably screams as he goes, but he's too shaken up to hear how that's translated by the voice modulator.

Of course he manages to take down Carol and Spider-Man with him in one glorious tumble. Tony flails to get a curl of red ribbon out of the way of his vision, which seems to be stuck there with spider-webbing.

And of course they automatically think because he's smacked into them he's a villain, so Tony's now got Vector's attention and Ms. Marvel and Spider-Man on his ass.

It's luck more than judgment that finally gets Tony inside the building; his knowledge of how Carol and Spider-Man fight help a little, but it's only when he realizes that the u-Foes are missing out on easy hits against the Avengers that he realizes how hard they're guarding the doors.

Which mean they really don't want the Avengers in the building.

Or they really don't want Steel Corpse in the building.

Tony's happy with either option.

It takes a lot of firepower directed at the ground to make the Avengers nearest to him stumble and leave him alone, and Tony uses their distraction to pelt towards Vapor.

Jan's sting blasts rocket off Tony's back as he approaches Vapor.

Vapor's mouth curls into a wicked smile. "Thanks for the shield — whoever you are. Metal girl?"

"Steel Corpse," Tony says.

"Whatever," Vapor says, her feet already turning into gas now Jan's disruption is bouncing off Tony's suit. "Doesn't matter if you're made from Iron or Vibranium. There's someone in that suit of yours — and I can get through anything. Gonna turn you to slime."

"You could," Tony says, "but my body's already turning into slime. Mutant virus. I'm locked up tight for a reason, sweetheart. Now you could turn into a cloud and sail into the suit, but you want to risk picking up what I got? 'cause right now, I'm already half gone."

Vapor actually freezes to consider it. And in that moment, drops back to maybe 80% solid form. Which is more than enough for Tony to blast into. Two well-placed blasts tumble her to the floor.

Tony doesn't even look back. He has a gap, and he's going to use it. He hurtles into the building, through the main door, tossing a couple of grenade-type blasts behind him before slamming the door shut and turning to head up to the labs to check out the civilian population before setting the place alight.

Only to run nearly literally into Captain America.

Tony skids to a halt, and registers the uniform before he registers Steve, which proves how distracted he actually is.

"Hello, there," Steve says, in his Captain America voice. His face is blank. His mask's already askew, which rarely happens this early in a skirmish, and there's blood trailing down his forehead which Tony really wants to rub away with his thumb.

Tony's stomach turns somersaults at how odd this is. Steve. Saying hello. He misses their mid-point, phatic-free conversations like a painful blow to the gut. "Hello, Captain," Tony says. "Mind stepping by and letting me do my work?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, ma'am," Steve says, clipped and low.

"Gonna fight me?" Tony asks, starting to circle him. Steve automatically mirrors him. It's terribly disconcerting to have Steve's are you an enemy expression rather than any of the ones he's used to. He swallows that back. "'cause I gotta say, Captain, you don't look entirely equipped for the heat I'm packing."

"I read everything that we managed to extract about you. You didn't quite manage to erase your full existence from the Stark building you targeted."

"I didn't intend to," Tony says.

"Then—" Steve starts, and comprehension flashes across his face. "You wanted us to find the footage."

"So you might not target me on sight," Tony says, making the suit shrug even though it's an effort. "I knew targeting a Stark building specifically would bring the Avengers in, and they might be able to stop SHIELD picking me up and making me a weapon."

"We have access to fourteen Iron Man suits," Steve says, "why would SHIELD need the Steel Corpse?"

"Not the Steel."

"The corpse." Steve tilts his head. Tony knows that expression; he's thinking it over.

Tony would let him finish the thought. Right now, he's not supposed to be Tony. If he was, this encounter would be going completely differently.

Maybe even including the wall behind them.

"Dead or alive," Tony says, letting frustration power his annoyance, "I'm dangerous. So let me past."

"No," Steve says.

"Who's going to stop me? You?" Tony's vaguely aware he's sounding as antagonistic as he was during his first meeting with Steve. He's hoping that the fact that there's no inhibition-lowering staffs from power-hungry crazy-ass Asgardians in the vicinity will help convince Steve that it's not Tony in the suit.

He has to convince Steve, because he knows what he would be thinking if it was the other way around. He'd be desperate to accept any version of events which might mean Steve was alive.

"I read all the files on you," Steve says, heavily. "My shield will crack you open like a can opener."

"Better say goodbye to Wolverine, then, Captain. As soon as my virus hits the open air, it'll eat him up faster than smallpox on acid."

"Then I have no option but to restrain you and remand you to SHIELD's custody."

"SHIELD will use me. You think the mutant population doesn't scare the hell out of them? I'm a walking bomb for them. So yeah, Fury's people come anywhere near me?" Tony tries to shrug without gearing up the pneumatic joints for the gesture, but Steel Corpse isn't made that way. The aborted movement hurts. "I'll go up like the fourth of July."

Steve grits his teeth angrily.

"You don't have the power to restrain me," Tony continues. "Right now, you're on your own. Your men and women are trapped outside with the u-Foes. Exactly where they want them. Us."

"The u-Foes are stopping us from coming in," Steve says. "Or stopping something from coming out?"

"Maybe both," Tony says. "If it's me they were expecting — and considering the targets I've taken down, this is the natural progression — it would be quite satisfying to catch your bomber in the explosion."

"You sound quite calm about that."

Tony wants to shrug but holds it back this time. "I'm packing a lot of heat. I'm not opposed to taking out a wall. The u-Foes can't be everywhere at once. Especially with only three of them here—"

Tony has to shut down his external voice at that one, just in case he swears, because son of a bitch. Son of a bitch, how did he freaking miss that. It's like a big neon flashing sign with strippers dancing around it.

X-Ray isn't here. Someone was in SHIELD and in Stark Industries, able to slip paper in Tony's pockets completely unnoticed. Tony should have considered the list of potential invisible villains, and even if he missed X-Ray initially, he should have thought about it during their first fight with the u-Foes.

Steve even called that out as a strategy for their fight: use Spider-Man's webbing as a way of making X-Ray visible even while invisible.

So Tony now has to find some way to alert the Avengers and SHIELD to re-check the footage and look for evidence of an invisible man. Well, it's not the hardest thing on his to-do list, and—

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, interrupting Tony's inner thoughts, concern heavy on his face as he tugs his headgear back into place.

Oh, yeah, Tony's not alone. He's been so busy trying to be in denial of how much he wants to throw his helmet off and throw himself into Steve's arms (and apologize later for being a swooning fool) that he'd pretty much managed to block Steve out of his thoughts entirely. Well, it's nice he can manage that — he's been suspecting for the last few weeks it might not even be physically possible to forget Steve for a second.

"Just thinking," Tony says, knocking the speaker back on. "I'm not the fastest thinker in the world."

Steve sags, like he's a little disappointed, before straightening and looking around. Outside, there's still the sound of the fighting. Steve's shoulders straighten. "So what would you do? If the Avengers and the u-Foes weren't here?"

"Empty the place then blow it sky high. Stane killed my boss, man. So I'm going to wipe him out before the virus finishes eating me alive."

Something changes, deep in Steve's face, and he nods tersely. "Okay," he says.

Tony nearly demands, what? because that's not Steve. That quick of an okay, that's not his best friend. Steve stops and thinks things through, and gets Tony's and Carol's and Cage's opinions at least before making a major decision. He doesn't agree to what amounts to unlawful carnage — SHIELD is supposed to approve all buildings before they destroy them.

Tony would fight and argue, but Tony is not Tony right now. "Okay," Tony repeats, and they head off together for the science labs.

---

There aren't too many civilians on-site, which means Stane's either cocky about the abilities of his u-Foe allies, or he can afford to lose this facility if he has to. The u-Foes are there just in case they can save it, Tony suspects. If it was important to keep the facility intact, Stane would have been able to recall X-Ray from the stealth mission he's on.

It's kind of nice to know it's a supervillain and not one of his Stark employees in on the death threat. The paranoia, before his fake death, had been plaguing Tony's sleep for weeks. The night in Steve's bed, platonic as it may have been, was Tony's first proper night sleep since the whole thing had begun.

After ensuring the civilians have a backdoor to escape from, and sending them that way, Steve makes a detour to retrieve the Mark Zero's helmet from where Stane's already trying to deconstruct it, and Tony spends a furious minute pretending that Steve's expression, when he cradles Tony's first helmet, doesn't make everything inside him hurt like a mutant virus really is eating him alive.

After the moment passes, Steve helps Tony plant the explosives. There's a hell of a lot of weaponry, and it's still badly stored, which increases Tony's suspicions:

This can't be Stane's only store of weapons. Based on the number of guards, and the shoddy stacking going on in this place, Tony would guess there's maybe seven or eight more facilities in the US itself; maybe more in Singapore, or maybe weapons production is what those facilities will be focused on.

Stane's stockpiling for war.

It's pretty clear on Steve's face as he takes one last look at the artillery lined up in the place that he's coming to the same conclusion.

Tony sets the detonator, and he and Steve run from the building, Tony blasting out a side-wall.

"Avengers, retreat from the building, stat," Steve barks into his comm, and Tony listens in on the affirmatives, and the two of them hurtle out from the building in time to see Carol flying Spider-Man and Cage away from the scene, and Jan turning full size to run along with Clint and Logan through the trees.

Steve and Tony detour around to join their escape path, and Tony looks back to see Vector and Ironclad retreating closer to the door. Their shoulders are shaking.

"Are they—" Tony inwardly shakes himself. "Do they think they've won?"

"Looks like," Steve says. "How long until detonation?"

"Five. Four. Three. Two—" Tony can't hide his smirk when Steve stops in his tracks, and actually throws a salute at Vector and Ironclad, who tilt their heads in confused unison.

Right before the building explodes behind them.

Tony laughs, because he can't help it; through the modulators it sounds like he's choking, though, so it's probably an okay reaction.

Steve isn't laughing, though. For a moment, Tony gets an unfettered look at the expression on Steve's face as he stares into the flaming, still exploding building. His nostrils flare and his shoulders tense, and he looks about an inch from shattering into pieces himself.

Tony's gut lurches.

Is this how he thinks Tony died? Boiled up in an explosion, trapped in a metal suit while fire shot to the sky?

How would Tony feel, facing the thing that stole Steve away?

Tony thinks he may feel it when facing Stane. Stane might not have killed him, but he's stolen a part of Tony's life, and he's stolen future memories he may have had with Steve, and that might be enough to make Tony have a feeling similar to what Steve's feeling now.

It might be... but what he'll probably be feeling is anger. Blood boiling, heart clenching, gut trembling anger.

Raze Tony's life to the ground, sure.

Start a war?

Tony will take Stane to pieces bit by bit.

"By the way," Steve says, interrupting Tony again from his thoughts as he watches the building bellow in flames.

"What?" Tony says.

"Before. Inside." Steve's voice is ambiguous. Tony tenses up slowly, and turns slightly to face Steve. If Tony said something to give the game away...

"Yes?" Tony tries.

"You said I was alone," Steve says, his tone still light and completely ambiguous.

Tony frowns. Steve can't see that, but maybe the blank face of Steel Corpse is a permanent frown anyway.

And then he turns, to see the other Avengers in a semi-circle around him.

Tony sighs. Through the voice modulator it sounds like a sob. Close enough.

He glares at Steve, hoping Cap can feel the hatred through his mask. "This is really going to suck," he sighs.

---

Tony regains consciousness in captivity.

That's what he was expecting to happen.

A brief twitch of his thumb, even as his head explodes into stars and deep abiding pain, shows that his suit hasn't been compromised.

He exhales in relief, but that makes everything hurt too, so he lies still for a little longer.

And then realises he's lying on hundreds of feet of sky.

Oh, plus practically unbreakable glass.

But Tony's brain reacts to the sky first. By trying to make him move his body, jerk it backwards and to the sides of his cell.

And that makes everything hurt again.

Why didn't I build painkillers into the damn suit, Tony thinks, and stills, trying to regain his breath, as light floods the place. It streams through the cameras too, and Tony's eyeballs feel like they're on fire.

Why didn't I go down easy, Tony adds to his mental list of woes.

And why am I in Bruce's cage?

"Is she awake?" That sounds like Carol's voice, muffled.

"Life signs are too faint to read," Agent Hill responds.

"We need more. Fetch him," Fury says.

Him. Tony's head spins. Probably Captain America. Great.

Tony had anticipated being caught. Had wanted to be caught. He hadn't thought he'd be put in this jail cell.

It's clever, Tony'll give whoever came up with it that much.

But he'll have to give that credit to them later. He tries once more to move, and pain washes down his spine, blinds out behind his eyeballs, and it's too much, too soon.

He passes out again.

And wakes minutes, hours, days later, he doesn't know, to a very familiar face peering at him from the opposite side of the cage.

Tony's painfully empty stomach jerks, and he manages to pull Steel Corpse into a sitting position, and he throws himself backwards, pulling his arms around his knees, lowering his helmet down to the kneecaps. His heart pounds and his brain races.

This is ridiculous.

This is impossible.

The last he heard, and not because he's been trying to hear, it's been sort of accidental, coincidental if you will that Stark's new facility had been that far south—

Okay, that denial hurts almost as much as the physical pain. So what if Tony's been trying to covertly keep an eye out? It's what friends are supposed to do, if they were even friends, but maybe that's too generous a definition, considering what happened.

Tony lifts his head up slightly, right into the cool, calm gaze of Dr. Bruce Banner, and tries his best not to cry out in relief, that Bruce is okay.

He's definitely in shock, that Bruce is here, in amongst the civilized people — although that's too generous a descriptor for SHIELD; Tony blames the head injuries he must have received, and did Cage really have to throw him into a tree? Tony's going to give him so much grief for fighting (someone who they thought was) a girl when this is all over.

There's another feeling in amongst the shock, curling in the bottom of his stomach.

Fear.

He's wondered what would be his reaction to seeing Bruce again after the incident.

Fear makes total, miserable sense.

Bruce looks down at him impassively, and then he smirks slightly, knowingly, and then says two words which blow Tony's mind.

"Hi, Tony."

Chapter 12

Tony forces himself not to respond.

A movement might mean guilt, and there's no way, no way they've figured out it's him.

Unless X-Ray has nothing to do with this and either Pepper or Happy are the mole.

Tony's plugged this trail so deep and wrapped around itself that it would take Reed Richards and Bruce and a handful of other scientists a year to find evidence.

Unless he's messed up somewhere he hasn't foreseen. He's been so careful.

But if they knew it was him, wouldn't they have pulled him out of the suit already?

No. They don't know.

This is a bluff.

Tony's torn halfway between impressed, because it's a hell of a play from Bruce, and annoyed that he didn't predict it happening.

Tony edges his inside voice on, so Bruce can't hear him. "EDWIN," he says, keeping his voice as low as possible because he's not entirely sure how Bruce's cage might amplify even minimal sounds. Then there's the fact that SHIELD may be bugging the cage. He's created Steel Corpse so a bug on the outside of his suit would be picked up (and the screen readout says negative on that front), so as long as he's quiet, he should be fine. "EDWIN, calculate me a range of responses that Tony Stark would make to this scenario. Give me the percentages of how identifying a response it would be. Compensate for my interactions with Dr. Banner."

"Calculating," EDWIN says.

"And speed it up," Tony mutters, widening the displays in his mask with a tilt of his head so he can see Bruce without lifting his head more. Bruce has an almost pleasant expression on his face, but there's a tension in his shoulders which say it's Bruce's choice to step into this place — but he's not entirely happy about it.

"Speed it up not recognised. Do you wish me to cancel calculations to receive another set of instructions?" EDWIN almost purrs, like she's messing with him deliberately. One day, Tony will program an AI with much less attitude than he has.

"Negative, EDWIN. Continue with current parameters."

"Calculating."

While EDWIN calculates, Tony does his best to check himself for injury. He's been unconscious for too long for him to have suffered severe brain damage. Tony has to hold back the urge to laugh until it physically hurts, because he's an idiot. This whole plan has been insane. Tony's never been so close to killing himself, and that includes the crazy drinking during his MIT years.

He can breathe, so there's no internal organ damage. Brain damage, once again, is one of his biggest risks. Tony runs through the symptoms as EDWIN calculates the best response to make.

He was unconscious, but that had to have been pain; Tony's awake now. He knows where he is — Bruce's cage in Fury's helicarrier. He knows who he is. Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, insane man. He doesn't feel particularly drowsy. He can't risk speaking yet, or trying to balance. His limbs don't feel particularly weak; more like the time after Steve's first sparring session with him, more than a year ago. Tony hadn't been able to move the next day.

His eyes seem fine. His head does ache, but it's more of a dull hurt than a sharp pain; if the headache continues, he'll have to escape as soon as possible, because he can't fight Stane if he dies. He obviously hasn't thrown up into the suit, or he'd feel and smell it, and a quick glance at the small window showing his vital statistics shows his heart rate to be slightly elevated, but no record of a fit or seizure. Tony's nostrils feel wet, but it might be blood; until he gets some private time, he won't be able to be sure if it's blood or brain matter. His ears feel clean, and he doesn't think he's suffering from any deafness.

EDWIN whirs, a decibel above silence in the background, and Tony confirms his own worry: no deafness in either ear.

He's been very lucky.

EDWIN whirs in the silence, and Bruce just watches him, a placid expression on his face. Tony watches him, and hates himself a little, because that's invariably what Tony does when it's quiet.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, EDWIN scrolls up the alternatives over Tony's display in white text, while Bruce smiles ambiguously behind it.

Sit and do nothing. 85%.

Start an argument with Dr. Banner over the incident in Malibu. 80%.

Insult Dr. Banner. 78%

Say a variation of "I don't understand" or "I don't know what you mean". 74%.

Start blowing things up. 70%.

Call him Bruce. 40%.

"Pause the text, EDWIN," Tony says, whisper quiet. "Leave me the ones which do not include me removing the suit and confirming my real identity to Dr. Banner."

Sit and do nothing. 85%.

Say "I don't understand" or "I don't know what you mean." 74%.

Start blowing things up. 50%.

Call him Bruce. 40%.

Tony smirks. It's good to know that he's 20% more likely to blow things up even with his identity known to SHIELD.

"Stop there, EDWIN," Tony says.

"Confirmed."

He knocks his outside voice back on and lifts his head up. "Dr. Banner," Tony says.

"That's awfully polite of you, Tony," Bruce says, his voice still soft and quiet, but an almost belligerent tone in his voice that tells Tony suddenly, clearly, that Bruce doesn't know. This is a charade.

It's a very clever play. After all, Reed Richards had been complimentary towards Tony's faking-his-own-death plans, and revealed details of his own preparations. It was probably normal for scientists, in this day and age of villains and heroes, to have to prepare a back exit.

Bruce will have had his own, before the Hulk took away all necessity of it.

"I'm as upset at Tony's death as you," Tony says. "I wish I was Tony. It would make things so much simpler."

"Really." Bruce paces a little, arms folding across his chest as he moves. He pauses, looks down at Tony speculatively. Tony can see a flash of silver in the panes of Bruce's glasses, the Steel Corpse reflecting back to Tony, hollow-eyed and staring and still, always, faintly accusing. The things you've done, Tony's conscience whispers, and Tony tries not to flinch with the ripple of self loathing. "That's an interesting plot. Getting me to believe you're not him. I see why you think it would work. I wouldn't want to be him either."

Bruce laughs a little then, a cold, self-indulgent giggle that chills down Tony's spine. Beside the sting of hurt it's quite nice, actually; the Steel Corpse is always on the edge of unpleasantly warm even with the cooling system Tony built into it. The hurt is larger than the chilling effect, though, and Tony has to swallow back what he wants to say.

How dare you. Don't you remember Malibu. I barely escaped with my life. Pepper nearly died because of you. You lost control. Out of the two of us, who is the one who should hate most to be the other?

Bruce is baiting him deliberately though. Trying to make Tony angry enough to retort. Bruce knows him almost as well as Steve does, after all, and he knows where to push to make things hurt.

"Being any asshole in the world is better than being in a body eating itself to death," Tony says, trying to hold onto logic and control, trying to slip into the character he's created. If he really was Steel Corpse, she would be angry. Tony would have promised to save the Steel Corpse. He would have promised to fix her, and now Tony's dead, and she can't be fixed. She's going to die, painfully, and in a way it's Tony Stark's fault for allowing himself to be blown up. "And if I'm to be any asshole, at least I'd rather be the rich asshole who saved my life. Who stopped me from murdering every mutant on the planet."

"Right. The mutant virus in the New Mexico Stark facility that accelerated out of control," Bruce says, as if he's quoting directly from the material Tony leaked in with the Steel Corpse videos. "It's terribly convenient that we can't see your face."

"Believe me," Tony grits out, "you wouldn't want to."

There's more than a ringing note of truth in that statement that Tony doesn't want to look too carefully at. Because there's guilt in there. Guilt at letting his friends think he's dead. Guilt at not trying to talk to Bruce after Malibu. It wasn't Bruce's fault a madman found a way to trigger the "Other Guy" on a whim. But the memory of Pepper, bruised, curled in a heap, the Hulk's fist inches from her face before Tony managed to distract him...

Anger and guilt curls in his stomach, an acidic cocktail that brings him to full concentration on the moment.

Memories are for later, when he can loathe himself in isolation.

"The virus," Bruce says, like a prompt.

"Still chowing me down like a buffet," Tony says. "Steel Corpse. The clue's in the name. I'm a walking dead woman."

"So it's a coincidence that the modulated tone of your voice is made up of a composite of several female voice files found in the Stark databases?" Bruce asks, lightly. He drops down onto his haunches, and peers at Tony like he can see through the mask.

They picked up on that, huh? Tony stays frozen. He hadn't anticipated that either.

Dammit, he really thought they would send Natasha to interrogate him. Or Hill. Both of them were bad enough.

Bruce is lethal.

Kind of literally, if you piss him off.

"The virus ate through my voice box a few months ago," Tony says. "The same goddamned reasons I have a catheter insert through places catheters should not go, I have literally iron lungs, and as for all the parts that are supposed to make me female anyway? Yeah, not precisely all there. I'm Stark's patchwork girl, Dr. Banner. His lunchtime distraction. I wish I could be Tony Stark for you. He might be able to figure out how to get the walking mutant bomb a little further away from SHIELD."

Bruce leans back to sit down, crossing his legs gracefully; years of yoga and pilates and various mood-calming activities giving him tremendous muscle control. "That's kind of your fault, isn't it? Going after Stane's facility like that?"

"Haven't got long left," Tony says, activating the joints so he can shrug at Bruce. "Thought I might be a mite more useful before the Avengers caught up with me."

Bruce nods slightly at him. "I gotta say. I was hoping you were Tony. It'd be a hell of a story, wouldn't it?"

Tony can't help the challenging head tilt. It's a little melodramatic, but the dying usually are. "What makes you sure I'm not still lying to you? After all, it is convenient. You can't see my face. I saw the building he died in. That size an explosion, can't have been much genetic material left."

Bruce's slightly pleasant expression tenses, and some of the color drains from his face. He looks at Tony, sadly. "There was enough."

And oh.

Oh.

Bruce has had to present this as a theory to SHIELD, and has therefore been forced to carry it out. Jibing at Steel Corpse in ways he knows would make Tony react. Bluff him into revealing the truth.

But it's all been an act.

Bruce believes the story.

And Tony, again, has to look directly in the face of a friend who thinks he's dead.

---

It's still easier than looking at Director Fury's face.

Because it turns out Fury pisses Tony off whoever he's pretending to be. Fury is melodramatic and creepy and really messed up in the head.

And worse, Tony can't overtly go in the opposite direction of everything Fury says.

To make this work, he has to agree with Fury.

Dammit, Tony really didn't think this plan all the way through.

"So," Fury says, towering over everyone as Tony sits awkwardly in a special chair one of the SHIELD employees has to fetch for him that doesn't have any arms. Steel Corpse is wider than the usual suspects Fury has around his meeting table — Tony realized the moment he sat down in one of the armed ones and squashed the metal why Thor, whenever he deigns to come to Earth, spends the whole meeting standing.

He'd presumed it was just so Thor could flex a lot.

He wonders if Thor came to his funeral, but he can't ask Pepper. He won't be going back there again until this is all over. He wonders if she's figured that out yet.

He hopes she's okay.

"Miss. Corpse," Fury booms, "can I call you Miss. Corpse?"

"Steel Corpse is fine, sir," Tony says, and boy does he ever regret having to say the sir.

"Sir?" Fury looks a little poleaxed, and then he shoots a look across to Bruce. "She really isn't Stark in disguise, is she?"

"I told you," Bruce says, quietly. "After what happened in Malibu, I'm pretty sure Tony wouldn't have been able to help showing anger. The Other Guy would have had to join the party. And that wouldn't have turned out well," he adds, eyeballing Fury.

Tony pictures it mentally. If he'd risen to the ruse, if he'd let Bruce know he was Tony after all, then the guilt and the anger might have come into play.

And then Tony probably would have died, in that enclosed space.

Fury came up with the best plans ever.

The sweat cooling uncomfortably in the creases of Tony's knees and his armpits, already rubbing the skin a little raw, reminds Tony exactly how much better his plans are.

It's an uncomfortably small amount.

"Miss. Steel Corpse," Fury says, with only a little amount of fluster. "I've been hearing some interesting things about you."

Tony stays silent, because he would have said something sassy if he could, and the disappointment of missing out on an opportunity to make Fury's good eye do that bulging thing Tony's fond of is enough to still his tongue and swallow the sass back. "I hope they're good things," he says, after a moment.

"So-so," Fury says, because he's honest about the little things. It helps him hide the big things. "Ah, come in," Fury calls over Tony's head.

Tony twists, making the chair squeak along the floor, to see the Avengers filing in. Jan's in her uniform but is human sized, so her wings aren't there. The uniform looks odd without the wings to fill out the back. Carol, Logan and Clint all have their masks in place. Steve's headgear is on even though Tony's seen him as Steel Corpse without it. Spider-Man never has his mask off, even around Tony. Like Jan, Cage never wears a mask.

The Avengers are staying in their Avengers' identities. Tony's stomach twinges painfully. Being allowed to fight with the Avengers had been one of his hopes for his plan, but he hadn't anticipated seeing them like this.

It might make things easier, not having to pretend to befriend them. But right now, all he can feel is that he's never been further away from them all.

It's the first time he's really thought that even if (or when) he comes back from this charade, they might stay strangers to him.

Some things are unforgiveable.

Like blowing up a hundred civilians to get to Tony.

Tony tenses all over, and stops moping. He has an aim. Destroy Stane. Wipe him out from existence. Stop him — and those helping him — from committing any sort of atrocity ever again. It's too late for civilized justice.

Blood is the payment Tony's gunning for. And without Steve to hold him back, blood is what he's going to get.

"These people beat me up last time I saw them," Tony says. He's pleased that the modulator adds a twang of Pepper's sulkiness to that sentence. Excuse me if I don't want to jump up and down and wave pom-poms, he swallows back, because that's much too Tony Stark for him to say.

"You wouldn't come easily," Cage says, cool and easily, plonking himself down next to Steel Corpse and throwing Tony his best shit-eating grin. "Is your head still ringing?"

"You often beat up girls, Mr. Cage?" Tony asks, a little displeased that the modulator adds a twang of Pepper's flirty tone. Oh, well, if anything's going to convince the Avengers, SHIELD and Fury for sure that Steel Corpse isn't Tony Stark, flirting with Luke Cage is probably going to do it.

"Just Cage. And it depends on how much they piss me off." Cage leans back in the chair, flexes his muscles a little, and Tony desperately dials up a whole bunch of denial for the fact that Cage seems to be flirting back.

He's going to need a brain scrub after this.

Tony looks up in time to see the Avengers sit down. Steve sits at the head of the table, and Tony has a nice King Arthur fantasy in his head all of a sudden. He wonders if after this, Steve will let Tony make him a sword.

"The Avengers are the ones that have kept you alive, Steel," Fury says. "I would be a little bit more gracious. I was all for sending you down to the lab with a can opener."

Logan openly bristles and growls under his breath, but as that's pretty much one of his trademark idiosyncrasies, everyone ignores him.

So Tony reacts, turning to him, making an uncomfortable sound.

"Don't mind him," Spider-Man chirps. "He isn't house-trained."

"I'll house train you," Logan mumbles back, actually making it sound like a legitimate threat.

"Children," Fury mutters, making them all jump and look in his direction. Say that for Fury, he can command attention. "The Avengers interceded on your behalf. They think that your goals may match up."

"My goals are to make Ezekiel Stane paste on the floor," Tony says. "Stark saved my life. I have a debt to pay back."

"Like the man said," Steve says, in a cold voice that Tony's only ever heard him use once. Back in Malibu actually, when the doctor wouldn't let him in to see how Tony and Pepper were doing after Bruce's hijacked Hulk-out. Move aside or I'll move you so far aside you'll have to learn another language. Or maybe how to breathe in a vacuum, Steve had said then, the anger clear-cut and palpable through the thin hospital walls. "Our goals may match up."

"With maybe a little less violence," Jan squeaks in.

"Debatable," Carol adds, her tone filled with muted fury.

"We've been tracking Zeke Stane ever since the Rice Stadium incident," Fury says, cutting across them. "The Singapore facility where we first encountered you directly—"

"Since when is SHIELD part of the Avengers we," Clint mutters from Cage's other side.

Fury, gallantly, ignores him to continue. "We received information from a radio line we've since come to suspect may be compromised."

No shit, Sherlock, Tony thinks, thinking of the information that led the Avengers to be waylaid by the Stark facility on City Island, when really they should have been further north.

"Since then, we've been using alternative information sources," Fury says. "Sources which may match your own, considering the location my people brought you down."

"My people," Clint sing-song repeats. Even though he was SHIELD personnel before becoming an Avenger. Tony smirks, free in the knowledge no one can see him being amused by Clint's muttering, so it doesn't matter that he'd be smirking if he wasn't wearing the suit.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you," Tony says, as Fury inhales to say something else. "I think I may have used the same source as you."

"The Mark Zero helmet was all over the internet," Carol says, throwing her hands wide. "I told you someone else would have thought what I did."

"It was a good initiative from Dr. Richards," Bruce says. Tony jerks. He hadn't even noticed Bruce was in the room, but there he is, leaning against the wall. Distancing himself from the Avengers.

He probably thinks they all still hate him a little after Malibu. It wasn't Bruce's fault, guys. It's easy for Tony to think that now, but he sure as hell hasn't been thinking that before. He feels a curl of guilt. Pepper doesn't blame Bruce. She's said it more than once, probably in the hope that Tony would get over himself and call Bruce instead of sending people every now and again to spy on him and send back reports.

It's one more thing on the pile of things to regret. Tony's amassing enough of them to build a planet.

"Stane will be angry that he fell for it," Carol says. Tony turns his blank metal mask in her direction so he doesn't have to look at Steve. It doesn't do much — he's still hyperaware of Steve at all times. Right now, Steve's upright, tense, stoic and leaving Carol to do his usual strategizing talk. It's not like Carol's not as much an expert as Steve is, but the Avengers do automatically look to Steve to provide the overall plan, and to Carol to fill in some of the details, while Tony fills in the technical parts.

He supposes Bruce will be doing Tony's part of planning for now.

"He'll be looking to lash out. Maybe advance his plans more quickly," Carol says. "We can use that."

Steve shuffles uncomfortably, and does speak up. His jaw is still tense, though — he doesn't want to speak. Therefore he must need to. Steve's always the bravest of all of us. "Stane had an awful lot of weapons. He's stockpiling. I'm not entirely sure, but..."

"But what, Captain?" Fury asks, in his best no-nonsense, military tone.

"It was enough to start a war."

Tony feels a surge of pride that Steve, even though he's not himself and is acting weird (like letting Tony blow up the facility, when it's against all procedure), has come to the same conclusion Tony did.

"It can't be his only facility," Cage says. "And if he's working with Hammer and the Mandarin, man, I'm getting a thousand bad feelings over this."

"I'll get the analysts onto this," Fury promises. "In the meantime, I need to borrow Steel Corpse for one more thing, and then Avengers, I want you to take her back to the Mansion with you. If I'm going to acquiesce to your request and let her fight with you."

"Wait," Tony says, "you want me to fight with the Avengers."

"Miss. Corpse," Fury says, evenly, in that smug tone of his that makes Tony want to take a piece of salmon and hide it in Fury's office somewhere he won't find it for weeks. "You either fight with them, or I put you in a cell so deep they'll never find you. Our analysis of Mr. Stark's data on you says you've pretty much only got a few months left. I may not bother digging you back out."

"Fighting with the Avengers. I can do that," Tony says. Back pedaling to acquiesce to Fury's demands tastes like sourness and hate.

"I've remanded you into Dr. Banner's permanent custody," Fury says. "Dr. Banner, please escort Steel to loading bay four."

"Loading bay four," Carol says. "That's where you're repainting the stealth bombers."

Fury pauses, for a moment, before saying, "You're correct, Ms. Marvel."

"Then—" she starts.

"Miss. Corpse looks worse for wear from you lot throwing her into, from what I hear, multiple trees," Fury says. "I need my Avengers to look their best."

"It's all a waste of time," Logan says. "Nothing you do to them will stop me from being the prettiest."

Fury would look cross-eyed if he had two eyes. He shakes himself. "Dr. Banner, please escort Steel to the loading bay. It's a touch-up job. There's nothing untoward about paint."

"Why do I get the feeling," Clint mutters, as Tony awkwardly gets up from the seat and starts to follow Bruce out of the room, "that the Director's said that before and caused wars?"

Chapter 13

"So, I guess you're my babysitter because you're the only one who can single-handedly take me down if necessary?" Tony asks Bruce, as Bruce walks alongside him, leading him amiably to the loading bay. Bruce is practically standing in his shadow.

He's spent way too much of his life running and hiding.

"Nah," Bruce says, in his amicable tone. The kind he's using when there's a little bit of self-loathing tied up in what he's saying. "Because I can stop anything that comes to take you. You're quite special. SHIELD's been bombarded by requests. NSA, FBI, CIA, Professor Charles Xavier, Magneto — they all want you."

"It's because I'm a lovely dancer," Tony says, almost without thinking. He winces.

Bruce does edge him a sharp look, but he shrugs. "Must be your delicate footwear," he says, gesturing at Steel Corpse's large, bulky feet.

"Mr. Stark built an internal waste and hydration system into the suit," Tony explains. "I'm not much bigger than that tiny woman back in there. The one who turns tiny."

"Janet van Dyne," Bruce says. "Aka the Wasp, aka sometimes Giant Girl. We call her Jan. She likes that. And we like her," he tags on the end, with force, like this is something Steel Corpse has to know. Don't mess with Jan. Tony's glad, although he thinks they're underestimating her. Jan may be sweetness and light, but she can break you quickly, efficiently and without even breaking a sweat in return.

"And the growing tiny thing — radiation, like the Fantastic Four?"

"Subatomic particles discovered by her husband Henry. Have you not heard of Hank Pym?" Bruce asks, turning down a corridor. It's the long way to loading bay four, Tony notes, which confuses Tony until he remembers that the long way has less cameras; Bruce's old habits refuse to die. "He came up with what's basically a super-scientist secret formula which makes the Pyms shrink. Jan can grow, too, although it takes a lot out of her."

"Fascinating," Tony says, letting a dry note creep through.

Bruce flushes a little, and fumbles with his glasses to distract himself before returning his gaze up to Tony's mask. It's nice that he's trying to talk to Tony like he's a regular person, not a walking corpse. "I'm sorry, I forget people who aren't chemistry nerds don't get so into the technicalities as much."

"Uh, hello, biology nerd here; same playground. Besides, Mr. Stark spent a lot of time fixing me up so I didn't have to stay in the isolation tank forever. He techno-babbled a lot too," Tony says. It's a decent enough lie; enough of the truth to let it sound plausible. Tony does like to techno-babble. His ego's going to have to endure a bit of bashing — because he's bound to have to pretend he doesn't understand something at some point.

"Yeah, he does," Bruce says. And then shakes himself, and forces his gaze ahead. "He did. I'm sorry. It's very hard to accept a world without Tony Stark in it."

"He talked about you," Tony blurts, because he can't help it. Because hearing Bruce's voice even with that note of pain and regret is too much for Tony to bear all of a sudden. He can hold back breaking Steve's heart because it's the greater good (because there's still no more painful thought than that mental image of Steve's body in his hands and Steve's blood on his hands and Steve's dying breath ringing in his ears, and the knowledge that it would be all Tony's fault if it happened) but Bruce, Bruce doesn't have to hurt this much.

He doesn't really deserve it, even though Tony's been thinking he does.

"Yeah?" There's a note of hesitant hope in Bruce's voice, that he instantly pushes down with his next, measured, "What did he say?" The speed he squashes his hope is a little bit heartbreaking. Bruce's life has never turned out anything near how he hoped it might since the gamma radiation test went south.

"That he was sorry," Tony says, and although he can't say this to Bruce's face as himself, he's hoping it's enough to be saying it now. "That he meant to call you. I know he watched out for you. I saw the reports in his lab." Bruce is looking sceptical, so Tony lists some of the places Tony's spies told him Bruce had been sighted. "La Rinconada. Haurautombo. Rarahuayllo."

"I had a Peru phase," Bruce says, a hint of pink appearing on his cheeks. "Tony had me followed. Hm. I should be angry at that."

"Mr. Stark said you were always angry anyway."

Bruce smiles, a genuine smile that makes an answering quirk twitch on Tony's face. "He'd be right about that. He liked being right." Bruce nods at a guard on the doors they're approaching, and the guard opens the door for them. As they pass him, Bruce asks, "What else did Tony talk to you about?"

"Oh, you know," Tony says. "A lot of stuff I didn't understand. Mechanical things. Sometimes he told me about the virus eating me alive. Sometimes he'd tell me about Pepper. Sometimes it would be stories about you." It would be good for Bruce to know he had some back story of all the Avengers; it made any slip-ups Tony might make in the future more plausible. "Sometimes about the other Avengers. Mostly about Steve."

The last part just slides out. That's the problem with putting too much truth into the lie. Sometimes all the truth just accidentally tags itself onto the end.

"Steve—" Bruce starts. "You mean Cap?

"Cap?"

"Captain America," Bruce elaborates. "Hm."

"Hm?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Bruce says. "It's just after Malibu—" He takes a sharp inhale. "After the incident with Tony's summer home and Miss. Potts—" Bruce looks suddenly, acutely miserable; Tony's hit hard by just how much Bruce has been angsting over the guilt of it. It's been three years. Tony should have reached out to him before, and now it's too late. Tony's dead and the hurt for his friends just keeps on going.

It's still better than them lying dead on my behalf, Tony tells himself for the millionth time. "I know Mr. Stark and Miss. Potts were dating when he created the Steel Corpse for me. He didn't tell me how it dissolved."

Bruce nods tersely, like he's grateful for it. "I thought I might have messed Tony up for good, y'know? But I'm not misinterpreting — Tony talked about Steve in a good way? In a... partners way?"

"As far as I know there was nothing going on," Tony says, because up until recently there's been nothing but denial and a handful of wet dreams on Tony's side of things. "But the last time I talked to him—" Tony activates the joints so he can convey the shrug to Bruce.

"That explains a lot," Bruce says. "Cap doesn't seem like himself. I assumed he was still busy blaming me for Malibu."

"Captain America doesn't seem the sort to blame anyone for anything for very long," Tony offers, but it's very much wishful thinking from his behalf. Steve's definitely capable of some storming grudges, and Tony's desperately hoping that when this is all over, and if he's able to walk away alive, that Steve won't hold one of those grudges about him.

"If he's grieving, that's another matter," Bruce says, shaking his head. "Poor guy. I don't really know what it's like to permanently lose a loved one, but— I know enough of the sensation to be able to multiply it in my head for a moment." He's silent for a few more paces, his face heavily drawn with thought. "Maybe you should catch up with him. Let him know how much Tony spoke of him. That might help."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tony says as they arrive in the loading bay to a team of five SHIELD workers who look very interested to see him. The idea of telling Steve what he's told Bruce spirals down Tony's spine, and makes his brain feel like it's boiling in his skull. Talking to Bruce, telling him these semi-lies, it's tough. But telling the same lies to Steve?

I can't lie to you. Not straight to your face.

It's torture.

"Hello," Tony says to the SHIELD workers. "Apparently you're supposed to—" Make me into a human canvas, his Tony Stark sarcasm provides, "paint me?" he finishes, abruptly angry at his brain for trying to get him into trouble.

"Yell if you need me, I'll be here the whole time," Bruce says, because he's nice, patting Tony's steel chassis and heading over the corner.

"Okay, miss," the guy in front says, smiling oddly at Tony. Maybe the Avengers did scuff him up more than Tony knows. Or maybe it's because metal-encased people are always going to gain an odd look, even in an environment which has had multiple gods walking around, causing havoc and mayhem and bringing odd sports to the SHIELD recreational gym involving large sticks and mallets and magic energy pulses and the loss of any dignity Tony still had. Good times, Tony says, and misses Thor a little again. "Director Fury has a nice pattern all picked out for you."

"I feel like wallpaper already," Tony says. "What color carpet do I need to match?"

The guy laughs a little, so Tony still needs to remember to tone his speech down. "According to my notes here," the guy says, waggling his tablet, "Red or gold should do it."

"Red or—" Tony starts, and then realizes exactly what paint job Fury's ordered them to give him. "Son of a bitch."

"What's the matter?" Bruce says, instantly jumping up from the seat he's found (well, a pile of crates) and hurrying over, hands in his pockets.

All five of the painters take a step back. "Um," says one of the braver ones near the back, "Director Fury's sent orders down for Miss. Steel Corpse to be repainted in this pattern." He waves up his own tablet with the design on.

Bruce stares at the tablet, and then stares at them wordlessly for a long minute. "Son of a bitch," he mutters, when he regains the power of speech. "Give me your tablet," Bruce says bossily. The lead painter squints. "Unless you want to try to paint something very large and very green, hand me your tablet now."

The men are all very aware of who Bruce is, and the tablet is in his hands in moments. Bruce taps on it, activates the microphone on the side, and types in a string of code that Tony side-eyes with jealousy. It's very elegant code. It also taps straight into the Avenger's comm frequency. "Cap, it's Bruce," Bruce says, into the tablet. "I know you're a big fan of Fury's rules, but you're not going to like this one."

"What am I not going to like?" Steve's voice comes through briskly.

"Fury's ordered them to paint Steel Corpse in Iron Man colors," Bruce says, wincing.

"Son of a—" Steve starts, but manages to hold back the ending; he is the best of them, after all. "Hold back until I confirm the reasoning. Do not proceed until you have my authority to continue."

"Agreed," Bruce says, and disconnects the comm line. "Cap'll probably come down here himself to sort things out. He can hack a SHIELD line as well as I can, but Fury'll have them on lockdown now. Maybe you can tell Steve what you told me when he's here."

"Great," Tony says, sickly. "Looking forward to it."

---

It's somewhat therapeutic to see Steve arguing with Director Fury.

It feels a lot like normality when Steve's shouting about something unfair.

"What the hell are you even thinking," Steve barks. Okay, he doesn't really shout per se, unless it's at Tony, and that's only because Tony shouts back and Fury remains annoyingly calm — but it's still somewhat impressive and Captain America-ish to hear.

"I don't have to justify myself to you."

"Opacity's worked out so well for you in the past."

"I feel like I need popcorn," Bruce mutters, standing next to Tony, arms folded. Steve and Fury give him identical glares. "Am I really the one person in this room you want to ramp up?"

"Even if the public believe this cockamamie explanation, have you even thought of the repercussions?" Steve pushes a step closer into Fury's personal space. "If Stane thinks Tony Stark's alive, he'll do whatever he was planning to do before Tony ruined his plans by dying too soon."

Tony's stomach sinks. What? What has he missed? He thought Steve was objecting to him being painted in the Iron Man colors. He didn't really expect that this was what Fury was intimating.

Fury isn't denying it, either.

After all he's done, and Pepper, Cap, all of them — all in danger. He's done all of this for nothing.

"He'll go straight to whatever atrocity was next on his list," Steve snaps. "His first move was killing civilians. Children. You can't expect the next move to be candy and flowers."

"He'll move on with what he's doing," Fury says, "and as such, we'll be able to track him. That's how we find our prey. When they're moving."

"There's a mole. Stane might find out we're bluffing and still decide to do whatever terrible thing he's planning."

"We believe it's worth a try," Fury says, placidly.

"Well, good luck cleaning up the mess, SHIELD," Steve says, the end to the sentence without the Avengers to help you do it hanging clearly in the air.

Fury does his agh, insubordination single eyebrow wiggle, and sighs. "Fine. Would you accept the pattern being altered but the colors being used to signify some continuity. The world feels a little more vulnerable without Iron Man, and I don't blame them. I would never have said it to Tony's face in fear of being eviscerated by ego, but he was right: Stark was our nuclear deterrent. You're asking me to give up that sort of an advantage?"

"We put Steel Corpse on active duty however she looks, we can run with her being our nuclear deterrent," Steve argues.

Fury shrugs. "The Iron Man colors would get the public on our side more quickly, lessen the panic."

"It's an insult to—" Steve's face turns an odd shade of pink. "To his memory."

"Well, I do have an alternative," Fury says. "I can always float the story Stark was never even in the suit for the past few years. That would get the public on our side."

Steve scowls. "By ruining his reputation completely?"

"I'm sure the billions his estate has will help whoever survived him very happy."

"Miss. Potts got his entire estate. Which effectively made her a target back then, and now— This place has a mole, Director. Everyone knows that by now. There's no other way the death threats could have been infiltrated the way they were without someone on the inside helping. If they only hear half this order, and falsely believe Iron Man's not gone, you've made her a target again."

"We'll bring her in," Fury says, complacently.

Steve shakes his head. "To the place you have a mole."

"Captain Rogers—" Fury snaps, finally starting to show that Steve is getting to him.

"Commander. My rank's commander, Director."

"Commander Rogers," Fury amends. "I understand that in your grief over Mr. Stark's accident—"

"Accident? Some insane lunatic blows him up, and you call it an accident? That's murder in my— in anyone's book."

"In your grief over Stark's murder, you're missing sight of the bigger picture. I'm as upset as you are, Commander. I counted Tony as a good friend, despite our less than calm interactions. I hate to say it, but I miss that giant pain in my butt. But I don't have the choice to wallow around in my anger and bitterness that, once again, the villains have ruined the day. I have to look at the bigger picture." Fury paces a little way, and turns, piercing Steve with a glare and using his best no nonsense tone. "Without Iron Man, the public are starting to feel unsafe again. Even with you all on full show. You're the brains, Commander, but Iron Man was the Avengers' heart. The public need that. The paint order stands."

"But without the ridiculous part where Stark's still alive," Steve says, mulishly.

"I'm starting to tire of your demands, Captain America." Fury stalks closer, pushing right up against Steve. "We found you. We can refreeze you."

"Technically," Steve says, not backing down, "Stark Industries found me. Which makes me by scavenger rights their property. Which means I belong to Miss. Potts. If she dies, I then regain ownership of myself, and I really think I'm not the person you want on a solo rampage, sir. The things I know about SHIELD and the pies you've had your fingers in, sir, could bring you down in a heartbeat."

Fury's nostrils flare a little.

"Now you know me," Steve says. "You know I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to. But you put Stane's plan fully back onto the terrible track he started on, I will have to. Sir."

Fury takes one step back, and scans Steve's tense, angry face. "You get one opportunity in your life to pull that card, Rogers. Is this the point you want to stick it on?"

Steve nods, tersely. Silently.

"Paint her, boys," Fury says. "Red and gold. Reverse the pattern you've been sent."

"Of course, director," one of the painters assures him.

"Then take her to the mansion. Get her acquainted with the others. I don't want you fighting in public again." Fury flickers a look over to where Tony's standing with Bruce. "Unless she defies your orders. Then roast her."

Fury strides off, coat billowing dramatically behind him. "Take Banner with you," he tags on the end, as he disappears through the door.

Steve watches him go, and then seems to notice Tony and Bruce are watching him, so he scowls and walks off in the direction Fury left. Probably to go off and sulk at not fully getting his way. Steve usually does get his way — due to mostly being concerned with truth, justice and human rights for all — so when he doesn't, it can be tricky to get out of his line of fire.

"Is Director Fury always that charming?" Tony asks, before Bruce wonders why he's not saying anything.

"Sometimes he's even nicer," Bruce says, patting him on the arm again. "C'mon, let's get SHIELD treating you as a car for a couple of hours, and then we'll get you acquainted with the Avengers and their mansion. I'm sure you'll get the feel for it quickly."

Having spent most of his childhood in the mansion, and most of his best years with the Avengers, Tony's pretty sure Bruce is right. "If you say so," Tony says.

Bruce rolls his eyes, and goes to sit down again.

Tony turns to the guys, eyeballs the paint sprayers, and tries his very best not to feel like he's walked into an automatic car wash.

As usual, his very best isn't quite enough.

---

It's quite funny to see the Avengers keen to attend a meeting. Usually at least half of them at any given time — even if Steve's the one to call the meeting — drag their feet and whine. Tony likes to think that he's spent so long in that 50% that he has squatter's rights.

This is probably the first meeting where he's seen them all eagerly sitting around their briefing table.

One thing's good: the hard expressions they had at Fury's table have all melted into something more akin to curiosity.

Bruce leads Tony to a chair and sits down next to him, in the seat closest to the exit. Even when Bruce Banner is somewhere safe, he consistently checks his routes to he can make a quick retreat.

Old habits die hard.

Tony himself has to fight the urge to tap his fingers against his leg, and to shuffle in the seat. He's constantly moving when he's not in the suit, but that's trademark Tony Stark behavior. He's a tactile fidget.

Steve takes his usual space at the middle of the table on the right side. He doesn't like to sit at the head of the table. He likes to lead from the middle. He clears his throat and the other Avengers quieten to attention. Not even Logan mutters. "Okay, Avengers. Steel Corpse is one of us now. We don't need to hide our identities in our home." He takes the lead, pulling off his tight headgear. Steve's hair's ruffled from that, and Tony has to literally tense all his muscles for a moment to refrain from the urge to leap across the boardroom table and flatten it down.

Love makes Tony crazy. He's always known that. Tony's stomach cramps painfully, and he twitches his thumb to release a little of the high-calorie paste into his mouth. It tastes terrible, like motor-oil and sand. Tony doesn't know how Zeke Stane managed to eat so much of it before his previous murder attempt against Tony.

Tony's operating under the assumption that Zeke's eating it again now — Zeke's suit transforms the calorific energy into energy blasts from his fingertips. Tony's only using it for the calories and essential vitamins. It's not a perfect solution, but it'll keep Tony alive while he does what he does, and that's all that matters.

He hopes the high-calorie stuff Pepper's making for her philanthropic Stark Industry outreach program tastes better.

The one problem he has at the moment is the water in the suit is running low. He needs at least fifteen minutes on his own to release the waste fluids and fill up the reserve in his back with more water, but with Bruce pressing so close to him like a human shadow, it's probably not going to be easy.

Well, Tony wasn't expecting this whole charade to be a walk in the park.

Logan, Carol and Clint all pull their masks off, following Steve, but Spider-Man keeps his on, of course. He notices Tony's mask turned in his direction.

"I'd pull mine off, but there's another one underneath," Spider-Man says, spreading his hands apologetically.

"I could have done without that imagery," Logan grunts. Then he eyeballs Tony warily. "My name's Logan. I'm Wolverine. I'm kinda your opposite — you got metal around your outsides, I got metal in my insides." Logan bares his teeth in a scary smile and shoots the adamantium claws in his hands out.

"Hi, Logan," Tony says. "I'd take my mask off, but you might die."

"Appreciate it," Logan says. "I always welcome ugly dames who cover up in public."

"Excuse me?" Carol interjects, putting her hands on her hips threateningly even though she's sat down.

"You know if she was pretty, Tony would have made her suit a little more see-through," Logan says, complacently. Carol considers it, and then shrugs.

"I was pretty, fuck you very much," Tony says, outraged. "Until the mutant virus ate my face off I was glorious."

"Well, you definitely spent some time with Tony," Jan says. Tony turns, and curses inwardly, and Jan smiles at him nervously. "I'm Janet van Dyne. I can shrink and grow due to Dr. Hank Pym's Pym Particles. You've seen me as the Wasp; Giant Girl is my other alter ego. You can call me Janet."

"Janet," Tony repeats, and can't help but feel a stupid sting in his stomach, because yes, he used to have to call her Janet, back when they weren't friends. And now these people aren't his friends — at least, they don't know they are. He feels an odd pang of loneliness. Even though his friends are all here, he's as far away from them as he was in Pepper's basement.

"I'm Spider-Man," Spider-Man says helpfully. "So if you have arachnophobia — there's not a lot you can do about it, really."

"Thanks," Tony says, the voice modulator cranking to a delightful tone of sarcasm that Tony thinks is probably mostly Pepper again.

"I can climb up walls and shit. Well, by shit, I mean random things like more walls. I've never actually climbed up shit." Spider-Man tilts his head. "I don't think Logan would give me permission to climb him, so I don't know if I can." Spider-Man dodges just in time to miss the mug sailing by his head. Logan snarls while Steve does his "enough" face at them both. They both settle down, but Spider-Man's mask is twitching in amusement.

"I'll get you later, bug," Logan mutters.

"I'm Clint Barton, SHIELD agent on loan," Clint says, loudly, to cover up Logan's muttered death threats. "Also known as Hawkeye. I'm only human, but I'm a really good shot." Clint's fingers curl like he's itching to be holding his bow right now.

Tony can sort of identify. He's never really realized how much he uses his computers until now, when he has to do everything with EDWIN vocally, and every now and again his fingers itch to type something. Steel Corpse's fingers aren't precise enough to use most of the computers, but maybe he can use the ones in his labs that he compensated for Steve's hard jabbing. It's a thought.

Then again, Tony would bet his entire (well, at the moment, Pepper's) substantial fortune that the Avenger mansion cameras are bugged. He could risk turning the stealth rig on, but that would verify to Stane that Tony had the technology, and so much of Tony's plan would fall apart.

It's best he just puts up with the itching, then.

"I'm Carol," Carol says. "You'll know me better as Ms. Marvel. Formerly of the United States Air Force, I was involved in an explosion that merged Kree DNA with my own. My powers include strength, endurance, stamina, flight, durability, a limited precognitive 'seventh sense' akin to Spider-Man's senses and an enhanced ability to combat certain threats, including some poisons." There's a period of silence when Carol looks at Steve expectantly, and a pulse in Steve's jaw clenches, and Carol swallows, and says, gesturing at Steve, "And this is Steve Rogers. Captain America. Current leader of the Avengers. We call him Cap."

Steve clears his throat, but doesn't look inclined to add anything until he moves — a barely perceptible millimeter — and Tony would bet anything that Carol's dug him underneath the table with her super strength. "You already know Dr. Banner," Steve says, nodding at Bruce. "Avengers, this is Steel Corpse. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Uh," Tony says, as all eight pairs of eyes turn his way. "Hi. I, um, I'm not good at speaking to crowds of people unless it's stop or I'll shoot."

"So you used to be a cop?" Carol asks, leaning back in her chair casually.

"No, the violence is more of a recent thing for me. I worked for Stark Industries." This is more solid ground — Tony's spent weeks mouthing his back story to himself as an almost lullaby. "Tony Stark has- had- still has— Um. Anyway. Lots of facilities in remote areas. I was a virologist. Turned out one of our team mechanics was a mutant. He went crazy, killed everyone but me, and there was some sort of accident- the virus I was working on mutated. Killed the guy instantly, but it didn't kill me. The facility was designed to shut down, air tight. Stark made the Steel Corpse to get me out of there safely so he could burn it and the virus to the ground. I'm the only walking remnant of that virus, but it's killing me. I'm in a lot of pain and I don't have a lot of time left, so I want to spend that time avenging the guy who got me out of there."

"And do you have a name?" Cage asks.

"Sure," Tony says, "it's a nice one, too."

Cage looks at him expectantly.

"Whoever I was died the moment Stark put me in the suit," Tony says, firmly. "I'm basically a timebomb."

"Well," Carol says, as Bruce shuffles awkwardly next to him, "seems to me like you might fit right in, Steel. Besides, the more girls here the better."

"I dunno," Logan says, "I can barely survive the ones we do have." He rubs his arm and squints at Jan who smiles at him.

"It's only a flesh wound, quit whining," she tells him primly.

"Ugh, can you not banter with Logan, please?" Carol asks, wrinkling her mouth in a way that Tony thinks Pepper probably taught her. Someone really should stop her associating with superheroes. "Because it reminds me of how you flirt with Hank, and I don't want to mentally picture you with Logan. No offense."

"Offense taken," Logan says, baring his teeth good-naturedly.

"Who's Hank?" Tony asks, because Steel Corpse might not know that.

Jan makes a strangled sort of sound.

"I guess he's your facebook it's complicated," Tony says.

"Basically, Hank and Jan give on-again, off-again a bad name," Clint says.

"Tell me," Carol says, folding her arms and eyeballing Clint, "how is Bobbi these days?"

Clint shoots her a dirty look. She sends back a what did you expect shrug, and Clint wrinkles his nose but then nods, taking it.

Realizing he shouldn't get the reference, Tony turns to Bruce.

"Bobbi Morse, aka Mockingbird, a SHIELD agent," Bruce whispers, while Jan assures Steve that she's not on Facebook. It's protocol for Avengers not to be allowed anywhere near social networking. "Hawkeye married her a while back. It's..." Bruce wrinkles his nose and squints. "Beyond even Facebook levels of complicated. They got married fast, and split up really fast, and then the affairs — smile and nod. It's the only tip I can give you."

"Do we have any new leads on Stane or the Mandarin?" Carol asks Steve, derailing the banter.

"Negative at the moment," Steve says. "Agent Hill's set to call us with any new update. Until then, we've been active for thirty hours, Avengers. I'm ordering a stand down. Rest, replenish, then be ready for action. Intel says Stane's got at least four more of these warehouses. As soon as we've got a location, we're going in. Bruce, your old room's still vacant. If you could find a room for Steel—"

"Stark had a power bay in his workshop I used to—" Tony starts, because that's an excellent solution to getting to his equipment.

"No." Steve's voice cuts across him. Tony can't help the genuine reaction; his head lurches up faster than the Steel Corpse joints can compensate for, and his neck twinges from the sharp movement. Steve's fingertips grip into the edge of the table, and it's probably a good thing that Tony hulk-proofed most of their official furniture. It looks like every muscle Steve possesses is tensed to the max, and his voice is military precision. "Stark's workshop's still being combed for evidence of the mole. It's off limits. To everyone."

Tony risks a side glance to see how the other Avengers are reacting to Steve's suddenly below-zero attitude shift. "Uh—" Tony says, where Tony Stark would have otherwise jumped in with an attack.

"Steve," Bruce says, in kind warning. Steve's glance jumps to him, anger burning for a second before Steve obviously forces himself to relax.

Steve looks over to Tony, a sharp red tinge across his cheeks. "That came out more sharply than I intended; I apologize, Steel. There's a recess alcove in the hall that may suit your purpose; Dr. Banner will help make any adjustments to it that you need."

"We have similar power adapters," Tony says, worry about Steve helping keep his tone subdued and a hundred and eighty degrees away from the usual swagger of his speech. "That should work. Thank you."

Steve nods, tersely. "Dismissed," he says, and pushes back from the table, stalking out before everyone else. Which is completely weird, because normally he waits until the end of the meeting for everyone else to leave, just in case they have an Avengers issue they don't want to bring up in front of the others. He's a good leader like that.

Usually.

Someone I loved, Tony thinks, and his stomach crunches painfully, and it's almost like torture not turning to watch Steve walk away.

Chapter 14

After assuring Bruce he can fit into the Iron Man alcove in the hall, Tony — in a moment which he'll probably be embarrassed about forever — blasts a small hole in the back of it when no one's looking and ejects his waste material down through the gap, and then pulls down one of the curtains, and shoves that in afterwards to soak it up.

It's really not one of the classiest moments of his life so far.

The alcove's a blind spot to the cameras, and Tony's DNA should already be all over the place, but still... if he gets a chance when this is over, he's going to redecorate the whole mansion. And maybe obliterate this resting alcove from the face of the planet.

He dutifully powers down the suit, but standing in it is horribly uncomfortable, even when he messes with fixing the knee joints in place so it's more like sitting down. Everything chafes. Locking all the joints help, but there's already a stale smell to the air, despite the filter's best work.

Tony finds a sort of middle-ground by locking every joint of the Steel Corpse in a slightly bent position. He slips a little in it — he made Corpse bigger on principal, so anyone scanning the dimensions would know it was too big for Tony Stark — but comes to some sort of equilibrium if he ignores the jarring ache in the places where Reed Richards stitched him up.

Tony owes that crazy elasticized man a few unique Stark inventions as a thank you. And he should probably find some way to get Sue sent some flowers, or something.

He dozes off for a while, which is probably dangerous considering his last rest was after the Avengers beat the crap out of him, but he slept then with probable concussion, and it's been a lot of time since. Not sleeping at all would be much more dangerous.

What does wake him, though, is Spider-Man.

Still locked down, Tony jolts when a red and blue blur waves in front of his face. Then Spider-Man's mask fills his viewing screen, and then Spider-Man backs off, apparently believing he's asleep.

Spider-Man looks left, and then looks right, and Tony freezes even though he doesn't have to.

Spider-Man.

He's being awfully shifty. Terribly shifty.

Tony doesn't know why he never suspected Spider-Man as the mole. True, the web-slinging superhero has gained quite the reputation, taking down such baddies as the Lizard Man, Doc Ock and the crazy Green Goblin, but that might not be this guy that's currently in front of him and wearing a spandex suit.

Even Tony's seen the Spider-Man replica costumes being worn all over during Halloween. They're really good copies.

Spider-Man backs up, still looking around him, and then — with excess casualness — drops into one of the nearest rooms. A drawing room, Tony thinks, or a storage room; he still doesn't know all the rooms in this place as well as he should.

Tony waits a few seconds, and then powers up his suit and heads straight for the door. He may not know what the room got turned into in the remodel he had done for the Avengers, but he knows there's no way out of it.

Tony's seething. If Spider-Man is the mole, then he's used Tony's trick of hiding in plain sight, and that's really sneaky. Um. Not that he can be super angry at anyone using that tactic, of course, because that would be hypocritical. Tony doesn't mind being outlandish, rude, self-absorbed, egotistical, melodramatic and an outrageous flirt, but he does try to steer clear of hypocrisy.

He often fails (see: Bruce, Malibu), but at least it's one of the flaws he's trying to work on.

Tony counts to three, and pushes open the door.

To see not Spider-Man in the middle of the room, but Peter Parker, the R&D lab guy who Tony's been training up to kinda take over the place. Not that he told Parker that.

Huh.

So maybe Tony's totally wrong, and there's another passageway out of this room.

Or maybe, and it hurts to think, maybe Parker's in cahoots with Spider-Man and they're both the mole, and his brightest new intern and the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man are working together to bring Tony down.

Struck by not wanting either option to be true (first, Tony never likes to think he's losing his mind, and second, he likes Spider-Man and he likes Peter Parker and it's terrible think so), Tony wavers undecidedly and moves his thumb to the trigger to wake up his weapon systems, when Parker steps out from behind the table and puts his hands up.

"Ah, shit," Parker says, and Tony's head pounds with the worry that this is an admission of guilt, and it's only then that he notices the red and blue suit pooling from Parker's waist.

And the limp red and blue mask dangling from one of Parker's fingers.

Peter Parker. Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Tony's mind boggles.

"Who are you?" Tony asks, because really, although he knows it's Parker in the Spider-Man suit now, it's kind of what he's thinking. And then there's the suspicion that curls into his gut, low and cold, that maybe Parker's the mole and he's been switching out with the real Spider-Man, blending in unnoticed.

Parker waggles the mask, and then — rolling his eyes when he doesn't get a noise of recognition — shoots a small amount of web from his right wrist.

Tony startles a little, and Parker grins sheepishly at the reaction. "I'm Spider-Man," Parker says, pulling the mask on before knocking it off. "Damn, I hate these awkward superhero identity revelation moments. At least you'll never have to suffer that." Parker walks forward and extends his hands. "Peter. My name's Peter. I work—" He pauses, and his wide brown eyes fill with moisture for a moment, and Tony feels suddenly, abruptly, horribly terrible when he realizes it's over him, "I worked for Tony Stark. Well, I kinda still do," Parker tags on. "It's a great job. I'm interning in research and development. It's not great pay, but it's super interesting."

Tony doesn't pay his interns much. It's Stark Industries policy — nothing that Tony has ever had much input into — because it's a way for graduates to get their foot into the door of a big corporation, and for the corporation to easily find loyal scientists who won't take their ideas elsewhere (the idea being if you stick out more than a year on shitty pay, you're probably as loyal to the company as you're gonna get.) Tony remembers worrying about Spider-Man's living situation, and he feels ashamed — that is something he could be doing something about. Except, right now he can't.

"I never imagined the Avengers really needing second jobs," Tony says, because maybe there is a way he can sneakily help Parker out if he can lead the conversation in the right direction. "Doesn't your work interfere?"

"Need the money," Parker says, with a shrug. "And it's better than my last job."

Tony thinks back to see if he can recall any details of the resumes Pepper slung onto his desk. He can't, but then another fragment of Spider-Man trivia hits his brain at the right time. "Oh, that's right. P. Parker. In the Daily Bugle, you were the only one able to take pictures of Spider-Man, and—"

Tony trails off.

Son of a bitch. That's hiding in plain sight done to a crazy, impressive new level. Tony hopes like crazy he can survive this, because for sneakiness at that level, he's going to promote the hell out of Parker when (if) he can.

"My editor fired me for only being able to manage the same old static shots, which, uh, you know, is understandable." Parker gestures with the mask again.

Taking self-shots is kinda difficult, Tony internally agrees, and then he remembers his last self-shot with Steve and feels sad again. It's rapidly becoming his baseline emotion, which is going to be tricky; apathy as a baseline is much more conducive to getting stuff done. Sure, motivation is difficult, but it's easier to do stuff when motivation hits when you're bored as opposed to when you're fighting the urge to sob into your helmet every so often. "With the proliferation of superheroes in New York," Parker continues, oblivious to Tony's self-absorbed mental trains of thought, "I guess Spider-Man wasn't worth paying the bucks for any more."

"I know Miss. Potts pretty well," Tony says, "I'm pretty sure she would—"

"No," Parker says, sharply. Like he's angry. "No. No one knows who I am. I want to be able to get things in life from what I can do, not who I am. I'm a good scientist. Miss. Corpse. I'm really good, and when my superiors notice this for real, that's when I'll get my promotion. When I've earned it."

"And you don't think swinging around saving the day means you've earned it?" Tony says.

Parker shakes his head. "That's just what we have to do, right? With great power comes great responsibility. My uncle taught me that." His voice goes quiet for a moment, and then he sounds more determined. "Mr. Stark, when he was here, always talked about our powers being a terrible privilege. But... I don't know. I don't think it's all that terrible."

"Even when there's collateral damage from supervillains gunning for you?" Tony says, sadly.

Parker looks at him, and mirrors the sadness. Out of all of them, Spider-Man's had as many enemies gunning personally for him as Iron Man has had. "We can do the things no one else can. I tried standing back once. Stepping away." Parker shrugs, aimlessly, starting to finish peeling out of his uniform now he's already exposed. "That, Miss. Corpse, that was the terrible time. Sure, it sucks seeing a kid gunned down in front of you. But you know what hurts more?" Parker straightens, and pockets the mask, and looks gaunt and haunted when he answers himself, "Seeing a girl gunned down and you're deliberately ten blocks away, shoving your fingers in your ears and going la-la-la."

Tony nods at that, his head ringing with the words. He feels ashamed. Here's Peter Parker, terribly young, with such an amazing outlook on their powers. On the truth of their abilities.

And here's Tony. Sure, he faked his death for noble reasons, and he's still convinced the body count is irrevocably lower from his actions. But Tony's also made some terrible mistakes in the past. Like Bruce, and Malibu, and really, Tony needs to find a way to apologize for that sooner or later. And the best chance of that is bringing Stane down, as quickly as possible.

And for that, he needs the Avengers back on his side.

"So, Spider-Man's identity. Top secret?" Tony asks. "Anyone else know but me?"

"Only Cap," Parker says, and Tony has to swallow a bark of insane laughter because holy shit, Steve is in trouble for lying to him — Tony's asked so many times if he knew Spider-Man's real identity. Steve's a little shit.

Except for the part where it's only a small lie, and it's to protect Spider-Man, and Tony's lies are a million, billion times worse.

"I'll keep your secret," Tony says. "I promise. But next time, I would save switching identities in a place that still hasn't been fully swept for bugs."

"Ahaha, bug jokes, you've already spent too much time with Logan," Parker says, before looking around warily, and then holding up something at his wrist. "Here," Parker says, showing a small band of metal, "these disrupt video. Even if Stane, Mandarin, Hammer, any of those dipshits have broken into Avengers' security, they can't see or hear me. Made them myself."

And damn, if Tony isn't going to promote the hell out of Parker if he can. He doesn't care if Parker complains. Tony made a similar invention. He thinks of his full body metal skeleton, and looks again at Parker's sleek bracelets.

"I can make you a pair?" Parker offers.

"Nah," Tony says, "I'm kind of dying." Of jealousy, his envious brain adds.

"Oh, yeah," Parker says sadly, shimmying out of his suit fully and bundling it into a small bag. Tony's seen that bag at his waist. Dammit. All the clues were there.

Parker's an expert at holding dual identities.

"I promise I'll keep your secret," Tony says, firmly. Meaning it. He'll yell at Steve one day for not telling him, but he'll keep Parker's secret. As a target himself, Tony's often wondered whether his life would be easier if he had used Rhodey's words at that press conference, if he'd kept shtum that he was Iron Man. But being Iron Man, that's not something Tony wants to hide. He is Iron Man. He and the suit are one, and it does feel like having a limb missing by riding around in this terrible impostor suit which makes him pee in alcoves (and why he didn't install the same recycling system as is in Iron Man, Tony will never know. Except he was trying to make the whole scenario believable, and Tony does always hide the best features for himself. Just ask Rhodey about War Machine at any point in time.)

"Thank you," Parker says, inclining his head gratefully and smiling. "Hey, you knew Tony, right?"

Tony jerks his head. "Blew up that building in his honor. Plan to blow up more."

"If you need to sneak away to do that in any of our big battles coming up," Parker says, with the practicality that they will be fighting more big battles, not with any particular emotion attached to the assumption; fighting big battles is just what Avengers do. "Just let me know. I can't actively disobey the Avengers' protocols to do no unnecessary harm, but... I want to avenge Tony Stark's death as much as anyone on this team. He's been— he was really good to me."

Tony nods, and when this is all over, if he gets a chance to tell Pepper about all the amazing things that happened as Steel Corpse, he's going to cut out the part here where he wells up like a giant baby.

"Oh," Parker says, as he moves out, "You know what? For a moment when you came in, I forgot Fury had you painted up. I kinda thought Iron Man was busting me." He shakes his head ruefully. "Can you imagine if Tony had found out who I was? Awkward, much."

"Yeah," Tony says, forcing a chuckle. "Yeah, that would be awkward."

"I have to go," Parker says. "I've got some reports to deliver to Ms. Marvel. She's scouring all the employees. Steve cleared me personally though. Y'know." He winks at Tony. "So I'm pretty much the Stark Avengers liaison now, so you might see more of me."

"I'd like that," Tony says.

Parker grins. "And hey, I read the reports about your virus. I'm really sorry. I think my wife, MJ, would really have liked you." For a moment, Tony actually thinks Parker's outlining territory — like, you're a girl, but I'm an unavailable guy — but Parker continues, in a soft, dazed tone, "She's wicked smart. Not science smarts, she's an actress, but yeah, I'm kinda sorry you won't get to meet her," and Tony realizes he's kind of just bragging. Parker sounds stunned that this MJ is even married to him.

"Maybe we can kick Stane's ass tomorrow and I can meet her in the suit," Tony says. "People accidentally run into Avengers all the time in New York."

"Yeah," Parker smiles, opening the door and heading out into the hall. "Yeah, they do."

Tony follows Parker through to the kitchen, where Carol's pouring through a giant pile of reports. He catches a glimpse of the Stark logo on the side — she's still scouring the records, then, looking for potential leaks.

"Hey, Peter Parker," Carol says, warmly, looking up from her work. "You brought me the records I requested."

"I sure did," Parker tells her, in a soft genuine tone so unlike Spider-Man's snark that Tony finally understands how Parker can hide so well in plain sight.

As Parker and Carol chat a little, Carol asking questions about MJ, Parker's wife, Tony takes advantage of the opportunity to fill up his water supply.

If Parker can hide in plain sight, maybe Tony doesn't have to sneak about everything. He ambles up to the sink, and moves to flick a panel open on his arm.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Tony looks up to see Logan standing, and he realizes in swooping horror that Logan's claws are extended, and are an inch away from his neck. "If you release your stupid virus, I'm still pretty sure I can rip you apart before I die."

"Relax," Tony says, and flicks the panel the rest of the way. "This is all compartmentalized. The virus is killed if you boil it. I basically have a large kettle in my back. This pipe is uncontaminated. I fill it up, boil up my back, hurts like hell, but then I get to live for a little longer, so—" Tony gestures at the sink, and Logan retracts his claws, scowling.

"Hm," Logan mutters. "Guess that's okay." He stalks away, clearly unhappy that he's living with what he thinks is a walking mutant bomb. "Don't use all the water," he snarks as he walks away. Oh, well, Tony thinks, as he starts to fill up. He was never going to be able to win over all the Avengers in a short span.

Bruce ambles in while he's partway through, and he comes all the way up to Tony's side. Obviously back on guard duty now Tony's awake. "Hey," Bruce says.

"Oh," Tony says quickly, "there's a system—"

"Tony built in a filtration system that wipes out the virus, right?" Bruce says.

"That was in those videos he made about me?" Tony says. "He wasn't exactly subtle about them. It was pretty hard to just sit there while he bragged about me to a camera, metres away. I didn't hear everything he said, though, so—"

"No, he didn't mention the water system," Bruce says. "I simply assumed Tony would find some way for you to keep drinking. I'm kinda curious about how you get energy, though."

"Every so often, I go to a decontamination pod — in a remote location," Tony pulls his arm away, the water already sloshing around the suit, running into the many reservoirs. He closes the panel while Bruce reaches over and turns the faucet off for him. "It has a stash of, ironically, the paste that Ezekiel Stane used to use. Probably is still using right now."

"The stuff that tastes of motor oil, right?" Bruce's mouth wobbles in empathy. "I've eaten some weird things in the middle of nowhere, but you have my sympathy for that."

"The virus has mostly eaten my taste buds," Tony says, because that's a plausible lie. "Actually... Stane probably is eating that stuff again. Shouldn't we look into where he's getting hold of it?" Tony turns to Carol speculatively. He's been looking for a way to introduce that. He's figured Stane must have a large stash of it hidden in his childhood home now, but maybe blocking him from getting any more will inconvenience him now, and play perfectly into Tony's back-up plan, should the Avengers not manage to snag Stane properly.

"Right," Carol says, "yeah, that's a really good idea. Thanks, Corpse." She slips off the stool and goes straight for one of the wall panels to call it through to SHIELD. Tony wonders for a second why she doesn't ask JARVIS to do it for her, and then he remembers with a terrible pang that JARVIS has been taken temporarily offline, because of Reed Richards' discovery of the added subroutines.

Tony misses JARVIS kind of more than he misses coffee. He hopes he can get the chance to fix him, one day. Tony's oddly less sad about the idea of dying himself than of JARVIS never being able to be run again. Tony's mortal, and one day will die for real (sooner rather than later if keeps accumulating enemies at the rate he does) but JARVIS? JARVIS has a chance to live forever.

Carol calls Fury on a scrambled line, and sets that part of the plan in motion (Fury sounds like his namesake when she suggests it, but only because his raft of analysts didn't come up with it first) and then she glances back at all her piles of work. "I need a break," she mutters, and she looks across at Tony, speculatively. "Hey, wanna hang out? I'll go grab Jan from her Skyp- from her teleconferencing with uh—" she falters, side-eyeing Bruce oddly. Oh yeah, Tony realizes, Jan normally chats with Betty, Bruce's sort-of ex. The Avengers are very good at on-again-off-again awkward relationships. "Uh, I'll grab Jan," she finishes, grinning to cover up her near miss. "We'll do girly movies."

"Hey, did someone say my name?" Jan pops up in the doorway, yawning and stretching as she enters. "Mm, girly movies, that would be good."

"You look exhausted," Carol says, moving over and ruffling Jan's hair. Jan bats her away.

"Steve left me one of his to-do lists," Jan says.

"That's a bad thing?" Carol asks. "I find them quite helpful."

"Sometimes they are," Jan says, "but he tried to type it and I spent two hours deciphering it. The boy needs typing lessons stat."

Carol winces. "Okay, so you definitely need a break — and Dr. Ms. Marvel prescribes popcorn and a raft of girly movies. Steel, you in?" Carol pauses, "I know you can't do the popcorn part, but pretty people, good stories, plenty of shmaltz? Yes?"

Tony nods. "It's been a lifetime since I last had a girls' night," Tony says, and it's not fully a lie; it's been years since his last fling. Tony might be a serial flirt, and can and has slept with a list of men and women longer than one of Steve's infamous to-do lists, but once he's with someone — or has an epic (albeit, constantly deniable) crush on someone he might have a chance with — he's not that guy.

He's kind of been hung up on Steve longer than he's even admitted to himself.

"Yay," Jan squeals, running and hugging Tony's arms, because she's amazing like that. Trouble is, she's that loving to everyone, and Tony really wants these people to like him as Steel Corpse. The more they like him, the more they'll trust him, and the better chance he'll get to sneak off if he needs to.

"I haven't seen a lot of movies," Tony says, "but there was one that came out a long time back, one I've really been wanting to see but haven't gotten around to it."

"Oh, if we don't have it, we can get it," Carol says, taking his other arm, and walking him over to the kitchen. "Do you remember what the one you want to see is called?"

"Yeah," Tony says, "It was a Sandra Bullock film. Miss Congeniality?"

Jan squeals so loud she almost deafens him. "That's my favorite film in the world," she says, and starts to sing as she tugs both Carol and Tony to the TV room, "You're going to love it, you're going to adore it, love it and marrrrry it."

"Uh," Tony mutters to Carol, "what did I just agree to?"

Carol pats his metal arm consolingly. "A lifetime of love and adoration from Janet van Dyne."

"I think I can live with that," Tony says.

Carol grins. "I think we can live with you," she says, and bumps his shoulder companionably.

And while it's not normality, and Tony's living and hurting in a painful suit, and Steve is close but still so far away, Tony realizes the Steel Corpse plan means Stane hasn't been able to take everything away from him.

Chapter 15

The mansion alarm, when it goes off fifteen minutes before the end of the movie, doesn't sound the same as it does normally. It doesn't even sound like it does when Tony's in his Iron Man suit.

The Steel Corpse suit must have some really weird acoustics that are definitely not part of its design, because in the Corpse helmet, the alarm really freaking hurts.

Tony stumbles, and puts his hands over his ears automatically, even though he knows that won't do any good. He feels a weight at his side, and looks to see Carol's put her hand on his elbow reassuringly. Her eyes, wide with concern, fill his main viewing screen, and Tony feels warmth creep in along with his regret; a combination of Carol's an amazing woman and if this all goes south, I won't be able to tell her that. "Thanks," he mutters to her, and she nods and backs off as he straightens. Thanks will have to be enough.

"Avengers assemble. Quinjet bay," Cage's voice echoes down through the speakers.

"This way," Jan says, taking the lead.

"Cage do all your comm announcements?" Tony asks as they hurry through to the rear of the mansion. "I didn't really think he was a face for radio kind of guy."

"He's a looker, all right," Carol says, "but normally Cap does our assemble calls."

"Cap's a looker, too," Jan says, dreamily.

"Hmm," Tony agrees noncommittally, thinking about how good Steve felt against him in the bathroom in what feels like a lifetime ago. "Wolverine not your type?"

"Maybe if he shaved," Jan says. "And bathed. And had a complete personality transplant."

"I always thought Spider-Man would be cute under his spandex," Carol says, and Tony's heart sinks. Apparently he's opened the door to gossiping about all the Avengers. "That ass, I tell you. I would."

"He's married," Tony says, without thinking.

Carol and Jan look at him sharply, in creepy unison. "How do you—" Jan starts, curiously.

"He conned a pudding from Dr. Banner earlier," Tony lies, "by saying his wife won't let him have any?" He's glad the lie comes easily; he really needs to be more careful with what he says.

"Oh, yeah," Carol says. "He used that line on me too the other week." She shrugs. "I guess I thought he was lying to get the pudding."

Tony thinks guiltily that he thought the same. Now he knows Spider-Man's identity, he can recall Parker's employee file. He is married. Tony vaguely recalls Parker's interview — Tony interviews all the scientists himself, because Pepper chooses employees on their personality instead of aptitude, and that's not the best kind of scientist in Tony's opinion — and can remember Parker's past job wasn't much past errand boy and occasional photograph sale.

Spider-Man really is poor and probably underfed and if Tony dies for real then he won't be able to hack into his bank account or give him a crazy pay rise and that would really suck. Tony resolves to do his best to carry out his plan to take Stane down without dying.

Living is also a pretty good motivation, too.

"Dr. Banner has a sort-of girlfriend," Jan says, as they hurry down a flight of steps that was easier back when Tony didn't have boulder-sized feet. Tony has a brief flash of sympathy for Ben Grimm, which he vows never to voice out loud.

"Like you have a sort-of husband," Tony says.

"Urgh," Jan says, "but yes."

"She totally Skypes him every night. But we tell the guys she's teleconferencing with Betty Ross, Dr. Banner's beau," Carol says. "That's a secret between us girls, though, right?"

"Carol," Jan whines, embarrassed. Her cheeks are bright pink as they hit the bottom of the stairs; both of them slowed down to keep pace with Tony, which is super nice.

He cares about all of the Avengers. His sacrifice, this ruse, to keep them safe? They're all completely worth the pain.

"I won't tell anyone," Tony promises. He won't even mention when (if) he can, after this mess is all over, that all the guys already suspect it. Spider-Man definitely does, and if he's noticed it? As the least present Avenger? Everyone definitely has.

When the next door slides open, Cage, Clint and Bruce are hanging around the quinjet's ramp, and Tony can see a flash of red inside — Spider-Man will already be in the jet. Peter Parker. Seriously. Tony's going to take a while to get over that one. There's no sign of Logan or Steve, so they must already be in the cockpit.

"Girls," Cage drawls as the three of them enter and the door swishes shut behind them, "we were about to fly off without you."

"We weren't," Bruce hurries to reassure them, his hands in his pockets.

"Too bad if you did — we can all fly," Jan says, posing arms akimbo, tilting her chin at him challengingly.

Carol smirks.

Tony coughs, loudly. Carol's smirk falls, and she tilts towards him, questioningly. "You can't fly?" she asks, surprised.

"Really?" Clint blurts in echo, looking disappointed.

Tony can fly. Technically. But only once, and he's still saving it. He remembers to hit the switch to make it possible to move his shoulders, and he shrugs at her. "Stark didn't see the need."

"War Machine complains quite a bit that Tony keeps all the best mods for Iron Man," Cage says. "Guess that includes propulsion tech."

"It still looks like you can fly," Clint mutters, only loud enough for Tony to hear. Clint raises an eyebrow at Tony as he switches his bow and quiver to his other shoulder, daring Tony to call him on it. At least in this situation, Tony knows better.

"C'mon, children," Logan drawls, appearing in the doorway to the jet. "Cap's gonna grind down his perfect teeth if you keep him waiting any longer."

"Tell him to keep his panties on," Cage mutters, but quietly. Enough so Steve can't hear. Tony files that away in his things to be worried about, because Cage doesn't complain about Steve. Ever. So his behavior must really be off.

Bruce stays behind, looking apologetic, and Carol promises to look after Tony; obviously SHIELD has him on a watch order, despite them letting him join the Avengers.

Carol helps him to a seat on the jet that they usually save for SHIELD agents. Tony awkwardly lowers himself into it, and tries not to look at his usual seat that stays empty. He also has to force himself to ignore the sad side-glances the Avengers all can't help but make.

"Auto-pilot engaged," Logan barks, and spins in his seat lazily. "SHIELD have picked up some dubious shipments."

"From you," Spider-Man chirps, "dubious can have so many disturbing meanings."

"Dubious shipments that were similar to the facility you and Steel blew up, I presume, Cap?" Carol says, a hint of a challenge in her voice.

"I don't appreciate the edge to your tone, Ms. Marvel," Steve says, uncomfortably. "I made a decision on the spur of the moment to assist in bringing Steel in as an ally. I was on my own. The alternative was getting blown up in the facility."

"Sure," Clint says, "and you didn't enjoy blowing it up and avenging Tony at all."

Steve ignores Clint, his jaw tensing, his fists clenching.

"If there are two facilities, why are we going to this one?" Tony asks.

Steve blinks, and Tony panics for a quiet second — he's supposed to be blindly obeying orders to maintain the charade, not questioning commands. Questioning commands is what Tony does.

Then again, the character Tony's pretending to be is a scientist, and scientists are kind of renowned for their curiosity.

"There was a whisper on the dark web," Spider-Man says. "I'm kind of the web guy. Get it? I'm a Spider-Man, I get the internet duties, surfing the web—"

"We get it," Carol says, in a flat, unimpressed tone.

"Web man," Spider-Man croons, and Tony realizes why he's never realized Spider-Man and Peter Parker are the same fellow. Peter literally does what Tony's been struggling to do for the past couple of weeks permanently. Either Peter or Spider-Man gets to be his true self, and Tony feels sad that he doesn't know if the quiet, unassuming Parker is the real him, or if the wise-cracking web crawler is closest to who he actually is, beneath the spandex and the lab coat.

"Get on with it, bug," Logan snaps.

"Or?" Spider-Man says, one hand on his hip. Tony calms at his original panic — Parker's also a scientist. Curiosity is natural.

"I stab you?" Logan says, in the key of duh.

"There was a call out for merc supervillains," Spider-Man says, shrugging but shooting a wary glance at Logan's hands. "I picked it up."

"And that... doesn't sound convenient to you? That you just happened to intercept a mercenary call to one of the facilities SHIELD has identified as a threat?" Tony asks.

"Convenient— dude, do you have any idea how hard it is to trawl the dark web undetected?" Spider-Man demands. "I'd like to see you try."

Seeing as I taught you how to do it, Parker, Tony mutters, strictly internally. "Sorry. I thought Ezekiel Stane was a computer expert who would know we had a borderline hacker on the team."

"What are you suggesting?" Carol says, her eyes alight with intrigue, like when she's hunting something interesting.

"Something about all of this," Tony says, "it's worrying me. It's like there's something in the back of my mind that's important, and I can't get it out."

"I don't deal with feelings from team members who don't have that sensitivity," Steve says, moving forwards. "I deal with facts. We've landed. Let's go."

He strides out, slams open the door and hurries down the ramp, leaving the others staring after him.

"I'm worried about him," Jan says, in a small voice.

Carol nods at her. "Let's go," is all she says, though. Because first and foremost they're Avengers and they have a job to do.

The facility that they land near looks an awful lot like the first weapons factory Steve helped Tony blow up. Steve starts to call the play they obviously used at the last place, but he falters when they move closer and see it's not the u-Foes guarding the place.

"Why would Stane put a merc call out for people already under his command?" Cage asks quietly, an almost mutinous tone to his voice. He looks across at the ragged bunch of assorted supervillains, but it's clear from the tension in Cage's shoulders that he's very physically aware of Steve's reactions. "That's something you should have caught, Captain."

Steve turns to Cage, chin tilted, and in the coldest voice Tony's ever heard him use, he says, "Are you insinuating that I'm not up to this command?"

"The insinuating ship sailed when Stark got himself blown sky high," Cage says, clenching his fists subtly. "I've played dumb for this long, 'cause you're grieving and we're all very sorry, we miss him too. But you're starting to let it affect you. You ain't top ten at the moment, Cap."

"What, and leave you to call the shots?" Steve steps in, jaw tensing. "You'd like that, wouldn't you."

"Cap," Jan says, in a quiet, worried tone.

"Because you're worried too," Steve says, throwing her a scornful glance before returning to glare at Cage. Jan quails.

"What, you're going to snipe at Jan now? That's like yelling at Gandhi," Cage mutters.

"Excuse me for feeling a little crotchety that my team don't remember all the skills that we do have at our command. Like my enhanced hearing," Steve says, gesturing again at Jan.

"Because you're looking so clearly at what's going on," Cage says.

"What, you want to try giving command a shot? You wouldn't last five minutes," Steve says, cruel and cold. Tony's stomach cramps painfully and again, it's not just from the fact it's not used to small amounts of highly-calorific food.

"I'd be better than you right now," Cage says, pushing right up into Steve's personal space. "But I'm too angry and wired up. I can see that. I'm not in crazy denial."

"I'm—"

"Standing and arguing with a team mate while we have villains advancing on us," Cage says, in a patient tone considering he's right and a few of the villains are stalking forwards, a delighted expression on their faces that their target looks to be quite easy. "Or are you saying in your right mind this is what you would do?"

Steve swallows, visibly, and looks torn for a second. Then he looks away. His voice is subdued when he says, "Carol. You're on lead."

"Good choice," Cage says.

"Stay away from me in this skirmish," Steve says, in a quiet dangerous tone. "I might forget who the enemy is."

"Back at you," Cage growls, and pushes away from Steve.

"Right," Carol says. "Clint, slow them down."

"The Swordsman's there," he replies, "in the back group. When I've slowed them down, he's mine."

Carol nods at him, and Clint starts shooting even before her head's returned to its original position. "Jan," she says next, "we've got a lot of them, you feel up to growing?"

"Already on it," Jan says, stepping back and starting to grow, her Pym-particle infused suit growing with her.

"Cap, we've got physical attackers more in the front, I want you to focus on them before going for stragglers and the ones with elemental powers. If anyone tries to escape, track 'em down. Steel, you're not on our comm line, hover by Cage. Don't leave his side. I'll call orders to him for both of you. The three of you, now, for that main group there," Carol says, pointing.

Her orders for Spider-Man and Logan are faint as Tony starts running with Cage towards the main pack of villains for hire. He turns on the comm line so he can eavesdrop on what's going on, but shuts it off a few moments later; it's curiously devoid of chatter, and that's horrible to hear. Tony never thought he instigated the banter over the comms, but maybe he did.

It'll be more genuine a reaction if he follows Cage without also subtly following whatever Carol's saying down the comms, so Tony sticks close to Cage and opens his missile ports.

Close quarter fighting isn't Tony's favorite kind of fighting at all. Normally as Iron Man he gets to fly over the action, hurtling in like a dart when necessary, picking up villains and removing them from the fight, blasting them from afar, using Cap's shield as a ricochet to blast villains when they're not expecting it. However, the mercenaries are too close — and with Cage and Steve fighting in close proximity too — it's better to physically fight than risk them with his weapons.

If Tony gets knocked back, then he'll definitely start shooting. EDWIN might not be as subtle as JARVIS, but she's a much more accurate shot.

Happy's spent years teaching Tony how to box. Tony's conveniently pretended that not much of it sank in. In hindsight, he realizes it was an excuse to spend more time sparring with Steve. Tony's more of an expert in denial than even he realizes. Tony's never particularly thought fisticuffs an expedient manner of dealing with enemies, but Steel Corpse has much more power in its pneumatics than Iron Man does, and there's a certain satisfaction to slamming a metal fist into a bad guy's face with that much thrust behind it.

There's definitely some faces Tony recognizes amongst this lot — and some distinctive defining weapons, he adds mentally, dodging Wrecker's magical crowbar. Cleft, Depth Charge, Flagstone, Bulldozer, Excavator, Piledriver, Thunderball... and they're just the ones he can put a name to. Clint also said the Swordsman was in the rear group. The Mandarin's not even hiding his association with Stane anymore, Tony thinks, as Flagstone tries to take him on one-to-one. Moving faster and thinking harder is no real advantage against someone in a Stark-designed metal suit.

It's when the Wrecker joins in with his wrecking ball that Tony has a little difficulty. Tony thinks at one point that he's going to have to fly out of there, and he crouches ready to activate it as the Wrecker's wrecking ball flies right at him, but one of Clint's arrows smashes into the side of Wrecker's head, knocking him to the ground. The wrecking ball sails out of Wrecker's hands and does hit Tony, and he tumbles over, but it doesn't hit with the power it might have and Tony manages to land upright.

Tony turns back to give Clint a thumbs-up in thanks, and Clint gives him an inscrutable look before nodding. Tony turns back to the fight, making a mental note that Clint's still dubious of him. Of all the current Avengers, Clint's known him the longest. Then again, Clint's savvy. If he even does figure out it's a ruse, he's clever enough not to say anything. Clint's more of a making subtle digs forever after the event kind of guy.

As Tony turns back to the battle, he narrowly misses Steve's shield zipping past him and looping back, grazing Bulldozer in the chest. Bulldozer roars and moves to headbutt the nearest target — Cage — but Steve's already twisted to tackle Depth Charge, stopping him from putting his hands in the ground to hit them with tremors. Tony gears his smaller missiles. "EDWIN," Tony commands, knocking his outside voice off, "hit only bad guys."

"Command accepted," EDWIN almost purrs, and Tony rocks slightly as all his open gun ports launch at once, smashing into the nearest mercenaries, and thankfully rocking Bulldozer away from Cage.

"Nice fireworks," Cage yells, and Tony runs back into the action, pushing his power back behind his punching and kicking.

Tony doesn't get much of a chance to check out what else is going on in the battle — the numbers are overwhelming — until Jan finishes growing. Giant Girl is a blessing in any battle — she thunders past them, rocking the ground, and scoops up Excavator, Piledriver, Thunderball in one go, throwing them bodily to one side.

He's distracted by that, and one of the other mercenaries barrels in with all his power into Tony's right-side, and they both tumble to the ground. Tony lets out a strangled yell he can't help and he's not proud of, but counters with one of his electronic weapons, a semi-tazer inspired by Jane Foster's intern girl. Internet girl. One or the other. The mercenary stumbles to the ground, howling in pain, and Tony straightens — right into Jan's super-enlarged face.

"Corpse," Jan thunders, while Tony tries not to look up her giant nostrils and quivering enlarged nose hairs to go with her Pym-particle supergrowth, "new orders: follow me. We've got the Serpent Squad by the building amongst others — we've got Copperhead and Puff Adder, and they're both rocking their toxic weapons. I'm guessing poison doesn't go through Steel easily."

"You guess right," Tony yells up, but feels stupid when he realizes he hasn't put his outside voice back on.

"Go, Corpse, we got it," Cage pants. "If Fer-de-Lance is there and she takes on Wolverine, someone get me pictures."

Tony recalls Fer-de-Lance from one of Steve's missions a couple of years back — Logan declared she was plagiarizing him badly by her metal retractable claws in her gloves and boots. He always took it personally when she was on the scene.

"I'll catch you up," Tony yells up to Jan, this time remembering to put his outside voice on, and she nods, and strides off to meet the mercenaries huddled around the building.

As Tony approaches, he can already see Logan locked in battle with Fer-de-Lance. As Tony pulls up, a figure that must be the Swordsman runs past him. One of Clint's arrows is still half-embedded in his shoulder — he's obviously hoping to engage with Clint at a shorter, easier range.

It would be extremely good luck, Tony thinks, for the Swordsman to get past Captain America and Cage back there. Because Steve's fighting like a lunatic. The remaining front pack of mercenaries won't be able to fight back for long. It's terribly worrying, actually — but Tony can't linger on that.

He's got more than a handful of villains to deal with here.

There's more here than the Serpent Squad. There's definitely some faces Tony doesn't recognize. There's a couple he does — Man-Bull is definitely easy to recognize whatever the situation, and Gronk, in his green underpants, is never difficult to identify. There's some he vaguely recognizes, and some he doesn't, but it doesn't mean he's never fought them — after five years of being an Avenger, Tony's crushed more villains than he's slept with hot models, which is a sad realization, actually, now he thinks of that.

And then he stops thinking, because there's one he definitely recognizes.

Melter.

Shit, Tony thinks, and starts to back up.

Unfortunately, Melter's already seen him, and he starts to follow.

And it looks like Melter's been given some sort of suit enhancement.

Double shit, and a thousand more bad words, because Melter is one of the bad guys who Tony had on his this is not good list.

It isn't the mutant under the suit that's the problem — Christopher Colchiss is a sweet sort of young man, if you ignore the occasional spates of villainy — it's the power he has under his control. Melter's power is that he can mentally agitate the molecules in solid matter so that it loses cohesion, thereby melting the object in question.

It's not like Melter could produce actual fire, but Tony's seem him melt bullets in mid-air, and although he's not seen Melter melt people, he's seen the files of the after-effects.

Tony keeps backing up, and he tenses, ready to activate his one flight. Steel Corpse would be terrified of the mutant; either option being unbearable. If Melter melts the suit, the virus would escape (not that there is a virus, but Tony has to think of it as real to react correctly.) If Melter melts the person inside, that might be a little more bearable to Steel Corpse — but she wouldn't want to die either before avenging Tony's death properly.

"You're scared of me?" Melter croons. "Don't worry, Corpse. I've read all about you."

You've read all about me? That's interesting, Tony thinks. "You can read?" Tony baits, because he's never learned not to wind up supervillains. "You don't look old enough, pet."

"You got a smart mouth on you, lady," Melter says. He's moving strangely, almost cockily. The new suit must have a hell of a boost to it to give him this much confidence. Tony watches him carefully, even though the battle behind him is terribly distracting.

Steve still flinging himself around like a crazy person. Cage getting punched in the face a lot. Jan, soaring up into the sky now, scooping up bad guys and throwing them around like confetti. Carol fighting a couple of flying bad guys that Tony doesn't recognize. Spider-Man shooting webs, slowing them down. Clint loosing arrows into the fray from a safe distance, the Swordsman at his feet, wrapped up in spider webs.

Tony knows something that Steel Corpse wouldn't know though, not as well as he knows it: the Avengers can take care of themselves.

This is a threat he needs to focus on.

"You going to peel me open?" Tony taunts. "'cause I gotta say, I think you're a mutant. That wouldn't end well for you."

Melter hesitates, some of the confidence melting away. Tony snickers at his mental pun. Melter melting. Ha. "I don't plan to," Melter says, after a telling pause. "Word is you're melting on the inside. I could speed that up for you."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Really?" Melter says. "Aren't you in a lot of pain? Wouldn't you like me to end it?"

Tony hesitates, but only to calculate how many bullets he has to throw at Melter until the mutant's too overwhelmed to melt them all. Melter, unfortunately, takes it as permission, and throws out both hands towards him.

And it hurts. Melter's targeting his power at his insides, mentally agitating the molecules in Tony's body, and Tony didn't know it would hurt this much to have the power targeted on him — last time he faced Melter, Melter had a less powerful suit, and Melter only managed to melt Iron Man's helmet.

Tony falls to his knees, and instantly unleashes his weapons, distracting Melter; it stops him from accelerating the molecules in Tony's body, but only for a short while — Melter straightens and begins attacking Tony again. Melter's been on the borderline of heroism and villainy for so long; Tony could take him out with one of his kinetic energy penetration cannons, but that would mean killing him, and taking away his chance for redemption later.

It's something that's become more of a dilemma for Tony in recent years, after Dr. Yinsen gave him an opening for Tony to change his own life, back in a small cave in Afghanistan.

But one troubled kid can't stand between Tony and stopping Stane's plan. If Stane is truly stocking for war, there's thousands — maybe millions — more deaths on the line. Tony silently powers up the cannon, hating himself, pain rippling through him, and he's muttering to EDWIN, trying to limit the damage the weapon will do — and then he doesn't have to. Melter slams forward onto the ground, unconscious, and Tony slumps forward, no longer held by the invisible force of Melter's power, and when he looks up, Steve's looking down at him. There's blood trickling down from under his mask, and that's the second time Tony's seen him with his own blood on his face and that's not normal.

"Thanks," Tony blurts.

Steve picks up his shield from where he'd smashed it into the villain and he looks down at Melter. "I saw him walking and for a moment, I thought—" Steve's mouth twists, and he looks suddenly queasy.

Oh, Tony thinks. You thought Melter was coming after me. Not Steel Corpse. Me.

Tony uses the pneumatic joints to push himself easily to his feet. "It's this stupid thing Director Fury did to me," he says. "I guess it would be super terrible if I got into the kind of fight that horribly scratched the paintwork, right?"

Steve's mouth twitches faintly. "It would be terrible. Absolutely terrible."

"Let's get on with it, then," Tony says. Steve nods, and they run to join back in with the fight.

It's a long and terrible fight, and Jan mostly wins it for them — Tony finishes it off by starting to use his kinetic energy penetration cannons, and the mercenary super villains flee for their lives. Carol flies off with them a short way to ensure they do go, and the Avengers assemble together near the building, looking up at it warily while Jan shrinks back down to regular size.

"I'll run the quinjet's sensors over the building," Clint says, and takes Logan with him back to the quinjet, in case any enemy has broken into their transport during the battle.

"Don't suppose I could blow this place up?" Tony asks, mournfully.

"I wish," Cage says, regretfully. "And don't think I'm not pissed off that you two left me out of all the explosion fun last time. I suppose we have to let SHIELD scour it for clues, though."

"Maybe we should check for civilians, see if they know anything," Spider-Man suggests.

"Or maybe the whole building's booby trapped and we need to wait for the quinjet scan," Carol says, landing back down between them. She looks up at the building. "I dunno, guys, I'm getting a pretty bad feeling about this place."

"Your bad feelings are pretty good to listen to," Cage says. "Make the call for us to strategically withdraw, please?"

"Only a short way," Carol instructs. Tony starts to move with her, Jan matching his pace, and then Tony stalls as he realizes Steve's staying still. Looking up at the building with a stubborn jut to his jaw. "Steve," Carol says, in a cold voice. "We're retreating a short distance, that's all."

"I want to see," Steve says, stubbornly. "There could be something."

"Or it could be a trap and you could get blown sky high," Carol says.

Steve throws her a slightly murderous look, before turning back to the building. "Your feelings aren't always time sensitive," he says, "and some clues might be. In fact—"

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence, as one of the upstairs windows explodes outwards, and smoke starts to billow out. A rousing fire alarm begins to sound, and then there's an indefinable sound from inside.

A sound which could be someone screaming in pain.

"Shit," Cage says, eloquently. "Guess we're going in."

Carol looks at the burning building unhappily. She draws in a breath to say something, and another voice cuts over her.

"Help me! I'm in here! Is there anyone out there? Please help!"

It's coming from within the building, and has such a note of terror in it that Tony's not the first one to step forwards to help. Steve, looking victorious at being proved right, is almost at the door when Tony freezes.

Jan, closest to him, falters first, even though the others are still headed for the building. "Steel, what is it?" she asks, obviously realizing his reluctance is important.

"That voice," Tony says. "I've heard it before. Where have I heard it before."

"Help me!" the voice repeats again. "I'm in here! Is there anyone out there? Please help!"

Tony goes cold with the memory.

The warehouse, right at the beginning of all this, that exploded on him when he entered.

Even that had to have been Stane, testing the waters. Seeing how much of a hero Tony was, and how much of a coward. Thankfully it had been a test designed to knock Tony out, to frighten him, but Stane never kept his tests at the same level.

When this building explodes, it's going to be huge.

He knows now why he recognizes the voice. He needs to translate that one of the others without giving himself away.

"I know that voice." Tony looks at Jan. "I've been listening to some of the Iron Man recordings SHIELD has." That has to be a good enough lie. "The warehouse. Not the one that killed him — the one that exploded before."

"That's the exact same words," Jan says, her eyes widening. "Guys," she calls, raising her voice, "that's the exact same words, the exact same intonation."

"Help me! I'm in here! Is there anyone out there? Please help!"

"Clint, how are the sensors doing?" Carol says, backing up to join Jan and Tony, her eyes trained up on the window. "We hear a distressed voice, but Jan thinks it might be a recording."

Tony knocks the switch to turn his hacked feed into the Avengers' comm line on. "The fire's masking any life signs that might be in there," Clint says. "I'm playing back what your headsets picked up of the distress call through the servers."

"What's going on?" Steve asks, hovering near the front doors. Cage is waiting, torn halfway between Jan, Carol and Tony and the building. "I can't wait."

"Appease us," Carol says into her headset. "Please, Steve. One moment."

"People can die in one moment," Steve snaps back, but stays at the doors, ready to run in.

"I've got a match," Clint says, "to... audio Iron Man's transceiver picked up at the Miller's warehouse? Didn't that explode?"

"Pull back!" Carol orders. "It's a trap—"

But that's all she manages to get out, before the factory blows itself apart.

Chapter 16

As soon as Tony manages to invent some sort of program or device to erase memories from his head (note to himself: see if the rumors about Maya Hansen's Extremis program have any weight to them), then the next few hours after the warehouse explosion would probably be one of the first memories to go.

Because he can't even show how worried he is about Steve.

Jan grew large again, even though it made her pass out a few minutes later, just so she could scrape through the rubble to retrieve Steve and Cage, who both got buried in burning bricks. She got them out before fainting. Cage suffered a graze, but Steve was unconscious and covered in blood.

Carol was furious, pacing the jet as they flew to the current SHIELD Helicarrier location — it was the nearest first aid facility, and Fury called them in as soon as their surveillance picked up the explosion. She muttered over and over how it was irresponsible for Steve to be so close to the building.

Clint, Logan, and Spider-Man stayed back with the teams SHIELD sent to go through the rubble, and see if they could find survivors and clues in the devastation. Tony was concerned he would be left behind too, but he scooped Jan up when she collapsed and shrank back to regular size (and that was a relief; there have been times in the past where she's stayed the size she was when injured) and Carol didn't think to order him to put her down. Cage flew the jet, whining about how he should get to stay too, and Carol held onto Steve until they got to the helicarrier and Fury's best med team took him, Jan and Cage off to the infirmary.

Agent Hill came by to take his statement over what had happened, and she was actually quite pleasant. Meaning at some point, Tony's pissed her off. He can't remember what he did. He probably hit on her when he was drunk before she joined SHIELD. Or maybe he slept with a relative of hers and never called.

Tony's done a lot of things in his past he really hasn't been particularly proud of.

Now he's been left to hover outside of the med bay. He thinks that they're so nervous of him that they're leaving him alone because of that, not because they have any particular order to give him a wide berth.

He can't stand hovering outside for long. He's annoyed at people avoiding him. He's annoyed that he can't pace because Fury might figure out it is him from his body language. He's annoyed that he has no idea what's going on. Barging into the med bay salves all those annoyances.

Jan and Cage are both sitting up in bed, grumbling. Jan smiles on seeing him. "Steel," she calls softly, dimpling.

"How are you feeling now, champ?" Tony asks, sidling up to her. As much as a giant, clunky, functional metal suited person can sidle.

Jan blushes a little. "A little sleepy. Docs gave me some tablets so if I fall asleep on you, I'm sorry."

"Girl never takes anything stronger than Tylenol," Cage points out gruffly. He's got an IV plugged into his arm, but his head wound is bandaged and he doesn't look so out of it as Jan does. "So anything stronger and whoosh, she's a goner."

"I'm not that bad," Jan argues. "Once I took Nyquil and I didn't pass out for at least six hours."

"Watch out, we've got a bad-ass over here," Cage says, holding up his hands wide.

Jan shakes her head, but can't help but smile.

"How's the Captain?" Tony asks, trying not to fidget, or sound too anxious.

"Cap's in that iso room over there," Cage says, and points over at one of the isolation rooms. "Oh, don't worry — he's not contagious. Just cranky. I seriously wouldn't go in there — he threw something at one of the nurses. Boy's not been himself since Stark kicked it."

"He might be better if you didn't keep saying things like Stark kicked it," Jan says, folding her arms over her hospital sheets and raising both eyebrows at him.

"Ooh, you upset Janet," Tony says to Cage, already backing away. "You must be a terrible person."

Cage grins, showing all his teeth. "Baby, I'm awful."

Tony turns quickly, because Cage calling him baby? There is no scenario now where Tony won't be having terrible nightmares about this day.

"Um," one of the orderlies in the med bay says as Tony approaches Steve's iso room, "Ma'am? I don't know whether you should go in there or not. Do you have clearance?"

"I have no idea if I should go in, or if I have clearance," Tony says, and pushes the door open and strides through regardless, leaving the orderly staring at his back.

He clunks through into the room, to where Steve's lying in the bed, staring dully up at the ceiling. Tony doesn't bother trying to be quiet. Steve's hearing is fastidiously good.

"Oh," Steve says, in a flat monotone, "it's you."

"I got bored," Tony says. "Came to see how you were."

"I'm fine," Steve says. Tony automatically checks Steve's readouts to see if it's a lie, and his heart skips a beat when he notices the blank heart monitor. When your heart stops, the waves stop, the screen goes blank. In the end, you're dead, and even the light is an illusion. "Seriously," Steve says, straightening up in the bed into a sitting position, "you've come and seen. You can go now."

"Okay," Tony says, noticing the ripped out wires next to the monitor. Steve's obviously yanked them out in frustration. He doesn't move.

Steve stares at him, mouth working soundlessly for a moment. His brow furrows in confusion. "I said you can go, Corpse."

"I know I can," Tony says. "Can has nothing to do with will. It means I can go. Saying I can go doesn't mean I have to go."

"Then take it as an order. You have to go," Steve mutters, openly glaring in hatred in Tony's direction now.

"Too bad you gave Carol command of the Avengers," Tony says, placidly. "I read the Avenger protocols. If you've given command over in a hot situation, and then you're injured, whoever has the command holds it until you are 100% well. Seeing as you're still sitting in a hospital bed, I think that counts as less than perfect health."

"I can get up," Steve says, and pushes his cover off. Tony winces at the blood seeping through the almost full-body wrapping.

"Standing won't cover those injuries, American boy," Tony tells him, gesturing at Steve's burned legs.

"They'll heal quickly," Steve mutters, and slowly tugs the sheets back up. "They won't heal any quicker with you gawking at them." He waits another moment, and realizes Tony's not leaving. "What do you want? And don't pretend you care. I know you're only playing along until you can do whatever it is you're planning on."

"I don't know what you mean," Tony says, flatly.

Steve throws him a disbelieving look. "You've complied too quickly and not made any demands. If I'd made a fuss back when we blew up that arms warehouse ourselves, I think you'd have fought me to blow it up regardless."

"You're right," Tony says. "I don't have much time left, Captain. I'd like to make the most of it. While that goes along with the Avengers' plans, I'll play ball. The moment our plans don't mesh, I'll go my own way. But you knew that. You knew that when you fought for me to be on the team."

"I don't—" Steve starts.

"Even for those of us who don't play nice with SHIELD 24/7, it's a universally known truth — there's no one else Director Fury would listen to over his own nefarious secret plots than you." Tony makes the Steel Corpse shrug. "You knew taking me onto the Avengers would only work when it suited me. But you wanted me anyway. Because I can do the things you can't."

"I might have simply not wanted Fury to use you as a bomb against the mutant population," Steve says, stiffly.

"I'll allow you that as part of your decision making," Tony says, biting back the exact percentage of allowance he was about to assign Steve, because that's classic Tony Stark talk. "But it's not everything."

Steve glares at him, and then the glare softens. He winces in pain, but tries to hide that. Tony has to swallow the urge to tell him now. To stop the charade. To go and hold him. To apologize for this deception. Because this is all insane. Steve's never this angry and Steve should have never been so close to that factory warehouse, and he should never have gotten partially blown up, and the way he was fighting the mercenaries? It was suicidal.

Steve's grieving for Tony, and not caring that he hurts himself in the process, and Tony's one helmet-lift away from stopping him.

But if Tony does that, Stane will win. If Tony does that, and Stane finds out how much Steve means to him, Tony will lose everything.

There are worse things than dying.

"What is everything?" Steve says, eventually.

You, Tony thinks. But that's not an answer he can give in this situation. In this situation, he's a dying woman in a badly painted metal suit, known as Steel Corpse, who is seeking revenge for her murdered boss.

"At some point," Tony says, fighting the urge to touch Steve's face, "we're going to come up against Ezekiel Stane, and Fury will order you not to kill him. I won't have any compunction in defying that order on your behalf."

Steve swallows hard, and looks away, staring out of the windows at the cloud bank they're currently flying through. "I really wish I could kill him myself," Steve says, tightly.

"Think of it like this," Tony says. "Your orders have planted me in the squad. I'm a weapon, and you're the trigger. And you're going to have to cool this suicidal behavior. You keep fighting like an idiot, the whole team's going to be burned before I get to be any good. You wanna use me to full potential, you've got to calm down. I'm the perfect secret weapon, hiding in plain sight."

Steve nods, subdued, and his shoulders shake a little, and oh. He's holding back from crying. Tony's chest is tight. One helmet-lift, and they would be tears of joy. But if X-Ray is around, or Zeke's had the time to hack into SHIELD's cameras, that helmet-lift, that identity reveal, would bring the whole house of cards crashing down.

All of Tony's hard work will have been for nothing, and Zeke will be free to go right back onto the rollercoaster of his original, terrible, terrifying plans.

"You are," Steve says, in a quiet voice. When he turns his face back in Tony's directions, his eyes are wide and dry.

"I'm glad you agree," Tony says, mildly.

"No, you're hiding. In plain sight. In plain sight." Steve starts to straighten, and wobbily turns, putting his feet on the floor.

"Hey," Tony says, sharply, running forwards despite himself. "Quit that. Resting time."

"You don't understand." Steve looks up at Tony sharply, his eyes scraping the metal mask as if looking for a hidden clue, gripping Tony's metal-covered arms in his sudden, obvious excitement. "Steel, I think I've figured out something. Something huge."

"And you can't say it," Tony says.

Steve inhales noisily, and then deflates, sagging a little. "Help me up," Steve says, in a wavering, determined voice.

"But—" Tony starts, worry for Steve clouding everything else.

"No buts," Steve says. "Fury does listen to me."

"Even when you're acting crazy?" Tony can't help but ask.

Steve gives him a flat look. "I got you onto the team. I can get you kicked off just as easily."

"You're beginning to sound like Director Fury," Tony mutters.

Steve lets Tony help him up and to his feet, but shoots him a dirty look. "That's not a compliment, Steel," Steve tells him.

"I know," Tony says, cheerfully.

---

Steve gathers Jan and Cage as Tony helps him through the infirmary.

Because this is Fury's helicarrier and he knows everything that's going on at any given moment, Fury's waiting for them at the infirmary door, Carol and Bruce in tow. Bruce must have been fetched from the mansion.

"Fury, I need to see you. Along with all the Avengers we have on hand," Steve says, letting go of Tony and stalking ahead, not even waiting to see if Fury's following. "I think I have a lead."

Fury does follow. Agent Hill appears with Clint, Spider-Man and Logan. "Recalled them from the site, sir," Hill chirps.

"Good," Fury says. "Cap's got something important. Ready the boardroom."

"No. A training room. The third one, I think — the one without external windows," Steve says. "And shut down the cameras."

"I beg your pardon?" Fury asks.

"We've been dogged the whole way through this," Steve says, slowing a little only to let Fury sweep up to join him. "Block the internal windows, cut off the cameras, play some music. Whatever you have to do to make sure it's only us in that room."

Fury's face goes blank for a moment, and then he cottons on and nods to Hill. "Do what he says."

"Right away," Hill says, hurrying off and barking orders into her comm line.

"What is going on?" Carol mutters to Tony as they follow Fury and Steve, and Tony tries not to think about how odd a sight they must be, storming through the bland helicarrier in a mess of color and — in some cases — copious bandages.

"I said something strange which gave the Captain a brainwave," Tony says. "Guess we're going into lockdown so we can't be overheard."

"Dr. Richards said there's probably a mole," Jan says helpfully. "No other way Tony—" She makes a sound halfway between a sob and a hiccup. "No other way the death threats from Stane could have been delivered so sneakily."

"And it explains why we always have bad guys waiting for us wherever we go now," Cage mutters.

"Unless Stane has enough money from his alliance with the Mandarin to station bad guys at all his places," Bruce suggests, quietly. "It's what I'd do. Y'know. If I wasn't a one man army all on my own."

"Brag, brag, brag, all the time," Clint mutters. "Once I took out nearly a quarter of a whole army on my own! From a roof!"

"With a mere four quivers of arrows!" Carol chimes in, mimicking Clint's tone exactly. "We've heard the story, Barton. You're a national hero, blah blah blah."

"I walked the alleys of darkness and death for the good of our nation," Clint mutters. "I did terrible things to save mankind."

"You're our hero," Jan says, in a flat, unimpressed tone.

"Ugh, when I was a bad guy, way back when? I got so many more accolades than I get from you guys," Clint whines.

"Yeah, and how much did you really enjoy being a bad guy?" Logan prompts.

"I hated it, it was the worst time of my life ever," Clint says, in a sad, truthful monotone. "Man. Harsh my buzz, why don't you?"

"It's his special talent," Spider-Man chimes in helpfully.

"That and spearing bugs on my claws," Logan says, "and feeling no regret afterwards."

"Cap," Fury says, from the front of their odd procession, "I can't believe you put up with this banter all the time. I could not do it."

"It grows on you," Steve admits, limping around the corner with Fury.

As they enter the third training room, the shutters are already descending and Hill herself is up on a chair physically dismantling the large camera, while two SHIELD agents are busy running a small electronic device under the table.

"Bugs under the table?" Steve sidelines to Fury. "Really?"

Fury shrugs. "It's not paranoia when they're really out to get you."

They file into the room. Tony stands because the chairs are the ones with arms, and he hovers near the door, because he's deeply suspicious. Especially when Steve says, "Okay, once the door's closed, nothing we say leaves this room. Nothing that happens in here gets discussed outside. This is strictly between us. Director, is the room secure?"

"No one can hear or see in or out of this room," Fury says. "Once the door's closed, that is."

"Agent Hill," Steve says, as Hill climbs back down from the chair, dismantled camera in hand. "Thank you. Please close the door when you leave."

Hill gives him a dirty side glance, obviously believing she should be in here. "Of course, commander," she mutters, and sweeps out of the room, shepherding the other two SHIELD agents out of there with her. Steve waits for the last blind to self-lower itself over the door's small glass panel, and he turns to the others, standing at the head of the table.

Steve never leads from the front. This has to be important. Tony shuffles. The whole place is now locked down. He could easily reveal himself here.

Unless X-Ray is in there with them.

Tony chills. Steve's about to say something important, and Tony doesn't think they've reconsidered the idea of a truly invisible mole after the initial sweep and check which they did before anyone realized the u-Foes had been broken out of jail.

"Great," Steve says. "Steel Corpse, would you mind standing in front of the door? And Bruce, by the windows. Get ready to get angry if you have to."

"I'd rather not have to," Bruce says, under his breath, but he pushes up from his chair and moves over to the shuttered windows.

"Excellent," Steve says, and steps up onto one of the chairs.

"Cap?" Fury prompts. Steve scans the ceiling, and then smiles in satisfaction.

"Logan, you got your lighter on you?" Steve asks.

"Sure," Logan says, and automatically throws it to Steve. Steve catches it, clicks on the small flame, and waves it up at a point in the ceiling.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Fury says, "the sprinkler system is pretty damn sensitive and— Oh."

"Oh," Steve says, smirking down at Fury. Fury inclines his head.

"I'm impressed," Fury says.

"Are we about to get soaked?" Carol mutters.

"For a good cause," Steve says.

"I thought Ms. Marvel only ever got wet for good causes," Logan says, leering over the table at her.

Jan makes a squeak of outrage, but Carol crosses her perfect thighs and blows him a kiss. "You aren't ever going to be a good cause, sweetheart," Carol tells him.

And then they're all saved from whatever coarse jibe Logan's about to retort with when the sprinkler system kicks in.

And the spray highlights the outline of the invisible figure standing in the corner of the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Steve calls through the water, and gestures at the clear outline of the intruder, "I think we have our mole."

In the face of a locked room, the Director of SHIELD, and nine peeved Avengers, X-Ray does the only thing he probably thinks is in his powers; he turns visible and tries to run.

X-Ray's immune to physical attacks, but Tony opens up his weapon bays anyway and X-Ray leaps back, before turning to face Bruce speculatively, power crackling over his body.

"X-Ray, right?" Bruce says, calmly. "You're immune to physical attacks, or that's what you think. Do you really want me to get angry and test that theory to the extreme?" Bruce takes off his glasses, pocketing them and smiling at X-Ray.

X-Ray's energy waves go out like a light bulb in a power cut.

"You've made the right decision, son," Fury tells him, and it's a measure of how bad-ass Fury actually is that he still looks cool even under the sprinklers. He lifts up his communicator, switching it on. "Hill, I need the energy restraints."

"If you imprison me away from the other u-Foes, I'll give you the location of Stane's last five warehouses," X-Ray blurts, super fast, looking around at the Avengers warily. Bruce steps forwards, and Steve opens the door to admit Hill, who puts a creepy-looking restraint around X-Ray's wrists, neatly managing to stay outside, free of the sprinklers.

"Nullifies his powers," Fury tells Jan, who's peering at it curiously, her pixie cut plastering to her forehead in the spray. "He's offered to do a little Q&A. Tell Hill everything," Fury adds, specifically to X-Ray, "and we'll consider your request."

"Consider," X-Ray squeals.

"From the Director," Hill tells X-Ray, sounding suspiciously cheerful, "that's practically a no."

X-Ray's indignant squeals trail off as he's frogmarched off to the cells.

"Good one, Cap," Carol says admiringly, tugging sadly at her wet hair. "Now can we get out of the raining training room?"

"No," Tony says. His voice is strained, so comes out of the modulator like a squeal; he reaches forward and pushes the door shut, and he leans against it.

"Steel?" Bruce says, in his I'm worried about you tone which gets most normal people spilling everything in moments.

"We're missing something else," Tony says, to the door. He feels like energy's rushing through him, and he wonders if X-Ray blasted him with anything. He then has a paranoid second where he wonders if Melter's molecule agitation has done permanent harm to him. But that's all background noise to his brain, which is racing over something else.

"Are you okay, Steel?" Jan asks, moving closer to him. The sprinklers stop, and Tony turns to the others. He feels like he's on the verge of something huge.

He taps the side of his legs, and paces on the spot, and turns in frustration and beats on the door, smashing it clean off its hinges. He sinks into the wet carpet onto his knees, and stares out at the bridge of the helicarrier, and the full complement of crew staring back at him in surprise from their monitors. "I'm missing something," Tony mutters, shaking his head. "Something huge. It's staring me right in the face and I'm completely missing it."

Bruce kneels down next to him. "C'mon, let's go get you dried off. Pretty sure our scans said you're part iron, and that stuff rusts."

Tony nods at him, and climbs back up, his head still ringing. He's missing something, something big, and he can't quite reach it. It's like a word that's on the tip of his tongue, and he knows what it means, he just can't find the right sound to start the word.

"Dry her off and then I want you all back in the mansion," Fury says. "The mansion's protected and there are so many things about this that smell off. Last time we had a villain this willing to spill things—"

"Loki," Clint says, a rush of loathing in his tone.

"The trickster god, right?" Carol says, folding her arms and tossing her damp hair back like drenched is a normal look for her. Carol's been an Avenger for four years, with breaks, and has always conveniently managed to be elsewhere saving the world whenever Loki's caused a new brand of mischief. "Thor's brother?"

"Trickster," Steve says, starting to shepherd the dampened Avengers out of the training room, "isn't all." He leans against the door to shut it, and looks at them all with a curious expression. "He's very compelling when he talks. Even more so when he lies." Steve straightens, and smiles, oddly. Tony goes cold at the sight of it. There's something disturbingly off about it.

"I always feel very compelled when Loki speaks truth or lies," Clint mutters. "Very compelled to shoot him in the face."

Steve, pacing around the group, pats Clint as he passes. Then he pauses by Tony, and looks at him coolly. "We'd better hope X-Ray is nothing like Loki. I don't forgive liars." Steve's smile widens, cold, like a shark, and Tony's stomach sinks when he adds, in a low voice, so only Tony can hear, "Even the compelling ones."

Steve turns and strides off towards the exit and Tony, stunned, watches him go.

"What was that about?" Bruce asks, moving to stand next to Tony, squelching a little in his sodden shoes.

"I don't know," Tony says, realizing he means it on a hundred different levels. He doesn't know a thing at the moment, and it's an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that he hopes will subside soon. "I don't know at all."

Chapter 17

So staying away from Steve after that odd exchange while they wait for Hill to finish interrogating X-Ray, and wait for SHIELD to verify the information, is probably a good idea.

Tony's never had an idea which anyone could thoroughly quantify as good. Even though Steve made it perfectly clear that Tony's workshop is off-bounds, that's exactly where Tony heads as soon as he manages to break clear of the Avengers.

It's easy to find a moment in-between all the scurrying to find clean clothes and locate hairdryers.

He walks down his own stairs to his basement workshop quickly and quietly, not expecting to be stopped, but Tony's not too surprised to find Steve down there already, sitting in Tony's favorite chair.

Steve's not waiting there expecting Steel Corpse to come down, though — he's staring at two of Tony's screens, which are not filled with the usual Iron Man schematics.

They're filled with page upon page of information about Ezekiel Stane.

And that's not all. Tony's empty walls — empty by necessity, because Tony's very good at setting fire to things with his new inventions, and Dummy's good at putting fires out but that doesn't stop things getting damaged — are filled with print-outs. Photos of Stane. Photos of the Mandarin and of Justin Hammer. Surveillance photos galore.

And the lists. Steve's a big fan of having a to-do list, crossing off things, but these lists are crazy.

There's a few that are handwritten:

REASONS WHY STANE WOULD HORDE WEAPONS

1.War?

2.Hiding something else.

3. Selling them elsewhere

4. Retroengineering????

HOW FAR WOULD STANE HAVE GONE

1.More children?

2.Genocide

3.Nuclear?

4.StarkPark (suspect: original endgame)

Torture/kidnap of close friends?

And one that is typed, which is hard to read, because Tony wants to laugh and cry all the same time. It apparently doesn't matter how many times someone sends Steve on a typing lesson, he can't quite get the hang of it:

mAIN mOle SuspecCTs

1. disgrUNTLED EMPLOYEEEEs (chk wth Carol)

2. stane? Prosthetics? COSmetiC surGery

3. exhume obadiAH

4. STANE FAMILY TREe

5. Hijacked Avenger. ULTRON!!!!!!11??

And post-it notes galore, but these ones without Steve's cute doodles, that say things like:

WHAT DOES THE MANDARIN WANT?
RICE STADIUM: THE TEENS WORE ARC REACTORS.
WHAT DOES STANE WANT? REVENGE? JUSTICE? HE HASN'T QUIT.
STANE HASN'T QUIT. MORE THAN T'S DEATH. WHAT DOES HE WANT?

And in amongst those is information and e-mails and maps and it's insane how far Steve's gone.

This is Steve's mental process. He's a visual person. An artist. Tony feels like he's stumbled into the inside of Steve's brain. Tony's been wrapped up around Steve so tightly that he wasn't sure where he ended and Steve began, but this feels like he's intruding.

"Sorry for the intrusion," Tony says, because someone who wasn't Tony would know to apologize straightaway.

That's probably something he should work on. If he gets the chance.

Steve starts a little, and swivels gracefully in the chair, and Tony feels a sour note of jealousy that of course perfect Steve doesn't fall from that chair when startled like Tony always used to. "The suit got a little damaged in today's melee," Tony says, feeling like he should explain. "I need the equipment down here."

Steve stares at him for a moment, and then nods, before turning back to the screens. "Go ahead," Steve says, gesturing. "It's not like the original owner can use them."

"Appreciate it," Tony says, and moves over to one of the long tables filled with equipment. Apart from Steve's walls of information, the rest of Tony's stuff is still there, like a shrine. If Stane didn't know Steve felt something for Tony before now, this room is all the evidence he'd need. He wonders if X-Ray has been down here and seen it for himself — the modifications made to JARVIS' subroutines probably gave him an open-all-access key to every room in the mansion. He probably has.

It's probably kept Steve safe, in a weird convoluted way.

Stane's probably giddy at the idea that Tony's death is causing Captain America pain.

Tony wonders how long Stane will be satisfied by passively enjoying the situation before he gets bored. Before he wants to start causing more chaos. Because bad guys like him, people who cross a line and keep on going, they're never satisfied with one blow.

There's no real big damage to Steel Corpse, but Tony turns off his outside voice (in case he hits a dent too far back in and hurts himself; Tony's never been stoic when injured), grabs one of his hammers and smoothes out one of the bigger dents.

Steve ignores him. Tony being Tony can't help but pick at scabs, so going over to talk to him is something he can't help do either. He flicks his outside voice back on, opens his mouth and Steve jumps in before he can.

"Don't bother making small talk," Steve says, in a dull tone. "I'm not in the mood."

"Fine," Tony says, "but the map you're looking at is upside down."

Steve lurches almost comically, and swipes his finger on the display to right it up the correct way. Tony snorts, and turns to leave. It hurts too much to stay. It hurts too much to leave. Tony's life is a rock and a hard place and no breathing space between.

"Sorry, Steel," Steve says, to Tony's back. "I guess—" He lets out a ragged breath which has a hint of pain in it. "I guess it's too soon for me to see those colors in here again."

"I tried to get beat up more," Tony says, turning sideways, presenting his most damaged side to Steve.

Steve smiles, but it's a pained smile without an inch of amusement in it. "It's... this place. It's so much of... Of Tony—" Steve's smile wobbles, but he holds it bravely. "There's so much of Tony in here, and nothing of him at the same time — I'm not making any sense at all, recently." He shakes his head, and that seems to dispel the horrible smile.

"It would help if you finished your sentences," Tony says.

"I suppose it might," Steve says, and the edge of a real smile threatens the side of his mouth, but doesn't break through. He sighs moodily. "I'm sorry, I'm not a proficient conversationalist at the best of times."

"I'm sure that's not true," Tony says.

"Now you're just being polite to the moody soldier," Steve says, somewhat ruefully.

"I'm sure that's true," Tony says, and Steve does make a sound that might have been a laugh in another life. Steve sobers, like it was a laugh. Like he was betraying Tony by making that sound.

"You should go," Steve says. "I mean," he adds, awkwardly twisting his fingers, "if you're done."

Tony nods, and moves, and then pauses again. "This is where my suit was mostly made," Tony says. "I spent a lot of time in here." I can't lie easily to your face, Tony thinks, as Steve looks up again, but that isn't a lie. "When I was in here, Tony spent an awful lot of time messing with a book under the desk to your right. I don't know what it was," and that's a lie, but Steve is hurting, and Tony can't comfort him like he wants to, but he can't do nothing, "but it used to make him smile."

"Thanks," Steve says, not moving. Tony nods, and turns to leave the lab. He hears a small scrape as Steve moves after Tony's out of sight, reaching for the book, and Tony wonders if the book will help.

It's nothing much — just the scrapbook of all of the post-it notes Steve's drawn him over the years — but maybe it's enough to stop Steve from thinking there's not enough of Tony in that workshop.

Because if there's something of Steve in there, there's more than enough of Tony in there too.

---

It takes SHIELD an agonizingly long seven hours to come back with anything useful.

Hill and Fury themselves come to the mansion to deliver the briefing, meaning it's something pretty huge, and Steve makes the call for the Avengers to assemble for the meeting, meaning they've probably gone right down into Tony's workshop to get him.

Meaning they've probably seen Steve's walls of crazy. Tony gives it a day before Carol's officially appointed the new leader of the Avengers. He tries his best not to fidget as he makes his way to the boardroom, and he sits next to Bruce, away from where Steve's usual seat is, but when Steve comes in he sits down next to Tony anyway.

Tony feels extremely self-conscious.

"We've picked up call-outs on the dark web for more mercenaries for five of the locations," Hill says, showing a screenful of data on the mansion's boardroom's monitors. She doesn't bother with small talk, but it's not for the same reason as Tony and Steve's half-conversations of old; Hill just hates wasting time of any sort. Tony's glad she went into law enforcement over medicine — Hill would be the worst doctor in the whole world. "Each location has similar hints that they've received the same weapon caches as the others. And word on the down low, one of them has nukes. Obviously we don't know if any are rigged to explode, or which one has nuclear material if any, so we're going to have to sweep each one. That's not the hard part."

"Sweeping all five will take twelve hours with the equipment SHIELD has at the moment, even if you commandeer some external scanners, and that's going to need some fancywork — I've been pretty far and wide since— Uh, in the last few years. There's a few places that aren't too fond of SHIELD at the moment," Bruce says. "But you're not counting that as the hard part, are you?"

"Nope," Hill says, and clicks a small remote in her hand to bring up a new slide onto the display.

"Lady," Logan says, peering up at the screen, "there's kind of a few monsters in this room, you're going to have to be more specific."

"Monster is a job search website," Jan says, leaning over to him. "Have you never had to look for employment?"

Logan shrugs. "It's funny how legitimate places don't seem to advertise cage fighting," he says. "Why do you think that is? Maybe it's the abject violence and the terrible illegality of it." He grins, all teeth. Jan shakes her head, but grins anyway. "'sides," Logan adds, "I have a job. I'm a prison guard."

"Since when?" Carol demands, looking at him askance.

"Sorry," Logan says, "did I say prison guard? I meant teacher at the mutant academy. I get the two confused."

"Anyway," Hill interrupts, with a tone that says keep talking and we'll see how fond you are of your reproductive organs. Tony will have to correct her later, if he can; Logan reads that sort of tone as a challenge. "Look closer."

"Justin Hammer's recruiting civilian scientists," Jan breathes. "A lot of civilian scientists."

"And security guards," Fury says, in a blank tone. "And administration assistants. Cafeteria workers. Manual workers. Estimate maybe five hundred civilians at least per location."

"To each of the five locations, too?" Carol says. Fury nods, barely perceptible. "Damn."

"That was a couple of weeks ago," Hill says. "We can only assume the positions have been filled."

"And that's an advert for crèche workers and teachers," Bruce says, his voice hushed and strained.

There's silence as everything sinks in.

"So Stane, the Mandarin, Hammer — they're using civilians to guard their weapons," Spider-Man says. It's a note of how grave the situation is that Spider-Man's not cracking any jokes. "And there'll be mercenaries at each location? Jeez, for all the days you want a transporter, this would have to be it." He gets some blank looks. "Like on Star Trek, not Jason Statham."

"Aw," Jan says. "Jason Statham's hot."

"Uh," Steve mutters, in a side-whisper to Tony, "Corpse? What is Star Trek?"

Tony can't help but turn fully to him. I know what Star Trek is, Steve had said. The memory of Steve snapping that, and looking so indignant, weeks ago... It chokes up in Tony, bubbles up inside him, and Tony blurts out, "Oh God, I—" before he even knows what he's saying, and he has to swallow back love you, because that's all he can think in this moment. Brave Steve, stubborn Steve, man-out-of-time Steve; the only person in the world capable of wiping Tony's brain clean of nothing but him.

Steve tilts his head and stares at Tony oddly.

"I mean," Tony tries again, and then looks at the screen, and then emptying his brain and filling it with nothing but Steve has a good side effect.

A great side effect.

Because when he pushes his brain back onto the problem at hand, the answer that had been on the tip of his tongue after catching X-Ray comes flooding in. Tony startles to his feet. "We don't need to sweep any of the facilities," Tony says, slowly but growing more sure with each word. He looks around at the Avengers and at Fury and Hill, wondering why this has completely escaped them. Why they're sitting and staring blindly. "We don't have to. This is the Mandarin we're talking about. He wouldn't fund Stane for something as trivial as war. This is clumsy. I mean, look how easily we've found all their supplies."

"I wouldn't call it easy," Hill says, "it's taken a lot of great minds—"

"No, no," Tony says, stepping back a little, gesturing with his hands for a moment, and then pointing up at the screen. "This is nothing but a distraction. That's been Stane's game from the beginning. Pushing us one way. Leaving enough clues for us to give chase. So we're ignoring what's right in front of us."

"Okay," Fury says, "crazy ranting of a dying woman aside — I'll play. What's right in front of us?"

"What do we have in this country right now that's worth starting a war over?" Tony asks.

"Bad beer and reality television," Logan says, instantly.

"Of course," Tony says, leaning against the table. It creaks and dips under the weight of the suit. "He's probably not even planning on starting a war. Not right yet. Not with these sort of arsenals."

"What are you getting at?" Cage asks.

"Okay," Tony says, turning and looking at him, "from the information SHIELD's got, Stane escaped from prison when?"

"About eight months ago," Hill says, from behind him.

"And his first big public attack?" Tony prompts.

"The Rice Stadium incident," Cage says.

"Stane waited what, seven months? Before blowing up a random gathering of kids?" Tony straightens, paces, and then turns dramatically to look at them all. "If it's revenge he's after, why didn't he wait two more months after that? A month from now?"

"What's happening in a month?" Spider-Man asks.

"StarkPark," Steve says, and stumbles up from his seat, awareness dawning in his eyes. "StarkPark opens in a month."

"If Stane wanted revenge and didn't mind blowing up kids," Tony shrugs, doesn't activate the right commands to shrug and it ends up hurting like hell, but right now he doesn't care. "That's where I'd pick. So why didn't he?"

"Because he's not a complete psychopath?" Fury suggests.

"Why doesn't he launch an attack on the park? Take what he wants before there's people everywhere?" Steve asks, ignoring Fury.

Tony makes a humming sound which crackles through the voice modulator. "Because he doesn't want the mercenaries he's hiring to accidentally destroy the one thing he wants."

"The pods," Steve says, realization dawning through him. "The StarkPods."

"That would be my guess," Tony says.

"Shit," Steve says, startling everyone in the room. Tony winces, glad no one can see it behind his mask, because there are some things Steve's picked up from Tony that aren't great. "Shit. Reed Richards said JARVIS has been hijacked. If we're still assuming that's the case, Stane could know what we've just figured out."

"I'm still a little remiss to what we have just figured out," Fury says. "Apart from it being another Stark invention causing me grief."

"Tony made these pods as a safety feature at his amusement park," Steve explains. "They're intuitive, they fly up and catch you, and I've never seen anything like them. No discharge when they move, no heat beneath, seamless flight - they have to be powered by something amazing. Something worth starting a war over."

Fury looks at him, and nods. "Guess you guys better suit up," Fury says. "Looks like the Avengers are going to an amusement park."

"Man," Spider-Man says, as they all quickly file out of the room, heading straight for their lockers and uniforms, "I'm pretty sure I owe someone $20 after that game of things Nick Fury will never say we played once."

Tony's already in his suit, and Steve's been running around in half-uniform since the whole thing began, so while Steve liaises with Hill and Fury so that SHIELD can help run the strategic side of the next few hours, Tony hangs back.

This is probably it. Finding what Stane's been after, why the Mandarin and Hammer would join together to give him money, everything's going to escalate by necessity.

But if Tony plays his ace too soon, Stane might recoup and things could get worse. Tony needs Stane to follow them through to StarkPark. But he also needs to set things into motion that he has no chance of doing himself now.

The plan had been to sneak off during one of the next attacks to take care of one part of business. But that's off the cards.

Tony needs someone else to do it, and he needs to find a way of asking them without letting anyone watching know what's going on.

Bruce is his best shot.

Bruce is already idling by the steps to the quinjet bay when Tony goes to him. He doesn't change — his Pym-particle enhanced chinos are probably always on underneath his baggy clothes, because Bruce hates hurting people, and if he's going to be a giant green rage monster, then at least he's not going to be flashing his giant green junk in people's faces at the same time.

At least, Tony assumes Hulk's junk is anatomically-consistent. Bruce is oddly shy about it.

"Dr. Banner," Tony says. "Could I have a moment of your time?"

"Sure," Bruce says, smiling wryly. "I don't think I'm going to be allowed on this field trip anyway."

"You should be," Tony says.

"That's an odd confidence," Bruce says, shrugging.

"Not really," Tony says. "I need to talk to you."

"Fire away," Bruce says.

Tony turns to face him directly. "It's about Malibu."

---

Bruce's entire demeanour changes immediately.

He wipes the haunted expression away quickly, and ducks his head, taking off his glasses and become inordinately invested in cleaning them with the edge of his shirt. "Uh, it's not exactly secret knowledge," Bruce mutters into his lenses. "I suppose Tony told you."

"Both versions of events, in order that I could talk to you in the event of his demise," Tony says.

"Right," Bruce says. "Making his peace from the grave." Bruce laughs in disbelief, shaking his head.

"There's the version where you were controlled by a group of villains who controlled you and made you rage out of control, putting Tony Stark and Pepper Potts into the hospital," Tony says. "But that's not the one he wanted me to talk to you about. He asked me to pass on certain things about version two. Same events, added detail."

"He told you the truth, huh?" Bruce says, looking up from his glasses, nothing but pain on his face.

"How else would I know Pepper was pregnant when the brainwashed Hulk knocked her through the wall and down a forty foot drop?" Tony says. Simply. Not sugercoating it at all. As much of a blow as the Malibu incident was when it happened.

All the color and light draws out of Bruce and he shuffles. It's like he's aged twenty years in a moment. "I guess he did tell you the truth, then," Bruce says, forcing it out as if he's got something lodged in his throat, choking him.

"It wasn't your fault," Tony says, with conviction. It's taken him way too long to get to this point. Sitting at Pepper's side in the Malibu hospital, holding her hand, watching the light die from her eyes when the doctor told her the truth...

It was hell. But it was hell that Tony had no right dragging Bruce down into too.

It could have happened to any of them.

"Tony knew it wasn't your fault," Tony presses on when Bruce stays silent. "Hell, how many times has his suit been taken over by villains and viruses? Enough that I heard Ultron is actually a dirty word around here."

"And how many times did he feel guilty about it?" Bruce shakes his head, smiling horribly, self-deprecatingly.

Every time, Tony fills in, everything hurting. He stays silent.

"If I hadn't been on holiday with them," Bruce says, quiet, controlled, "I wouldn't have been targeted. The Hulk wouldn't have been there to go out of control."

"Hindsight is beautiful," Tony says.

"Look," Bruce says, his voice strained, "I don't know if you're getting a kick out of this, letting me know that you know my vulnerable spots. But if you think you can emotionally blackmail into doing something for you, because I'm scared of you telling everyone what I did? Lady, I'm not fussed. I'd rather the Avengers knew what really happened in Malibu. That I smacked a pregnant woman, a wonderful woman, so far her unborn baby was crushed in the fall. And then they can stop looking at me so damned nicely, and see me for the monster I really am." Bruce's hands clench, and he exhales in a measured sort of way, he's fighting the Hulk right now from coming to the fore.

"It must be nice to live in a universe where you can blame yourself for going on holiday," Tony says, flatly. "It wasn't your fault, and Tony doesn't blame you."

And shit, present tense, that's a slip. Except considering what Tony's about to do, maybe it would be good if Bruce picks up on it.

"He should," Bruce says, raising his voice, tears giving his tone a ragged edge like a punch. "He should have hurt me, when he could. I killed his unborn child."

"And there's the thing I know that you don't." Tony steps in, closer. "It wasn't Tony's. They broke up maybe, hell, a year before Malibu. Pepper couldn't stand watching Iron Man zoom off into danger, time and again. Ever since the Manhattan nuke... they were a timebomb."

"Tony told me it was his," Bruce says. "Not that it changes anything—" He pushes his glasses back on, and wrings his hands helplessly. "Why would he say it was his if it wasn't? Huh?" Bruce looks away. "It's a sweet story. I'm sure it might even be the version of events that Tony's told you to pass on, should the worst happen to him. I'm grateful for the attempt, I am. But it doesn't explain why Tony would let me believe that."

"He was angry," Tony says. "Lost with what-ifs, what you really were capable of, that he'd been so blind around you. And most of all he wanted—" And oh, how much he wanted it. "He wanted it to be true."

"What?" Bruce manages, eyes slitting as they search the Steel Corpse mask, looking for the truth.

"He—" Tony starts, and he clenches his hands. He has to say this. He owes it to Bruce. He owes him so much. The truth's merely a start. "He wanted it to have been his child you killed." He snaps it out fast, like ripping off a band-aid. A band-aid covering his open, festering heart. "Because that would mean it was you that took away his chance to be a good father, and not himself."

Bruce turns to him, his eyes widening, moistening; he looks suddenly and acutely understanding.

"You know," Tony forces, "at least that's what I think. Not that he ever said it in words."

"Naw," Bruce says, still looking at him with new, revelatory awareness. "Naw, Tony Stark doesn't do words."

"Not often," Tony says, feeling a little light-headed.

Bruce nods, looking strangely casual all of a sudden, and he leans in and takes Tony's metal hand in one of his own. "What do you need?" Bruce asks, low and urgent. "To, uh, talk to me about."

From the cameras, it will look casual. The two have had an emotional conversation, based on what Tony's instructed Steel Corpse to tell Bruce after his death. However, it's not just that anymore.

Tony and Bruce worked together for two years before the Malibu incident, sometimes apart, sometimes in the same lab. Somewhere in there, as they worked on new forms of communications, they realized that they both knew Morse code.

A supportive handshake is more than enough smoke and mirror to pass on a secret message that can't be deciphered by another mole or a hacked security feed.

"Son of a bitch," Bruce taps into his palm, expression strangely neutral.

Except it's not strange. Bruce has figured out exactly what Tony was really saying.

No one but Tony would have known the real reason for his duelling anger and grief over Pepper's terrible, terrifying accident.

"Tony asked me to keep you out of danger's way," Tony says, tapping back the address of Ezekiel Stane's childhood home. "Stane may pull children in again. He knew you couldn't survive that."

"Okay," Bruce says. "Okay, I'll stay behind." "What do I do?" he adds.

"Blow it sky high," Tony taps back. "Appreciate it," Tony says, out loud, and pulls his hand back.

"Kick Stane's ass, Corpse," Bruce says, nodding at Tony as he starts to head down the steps to the jet.

"Don't worry," Tony says, voice firm, "I plan to."

He doesn't look back.

He doesn't have to.

Or maybe it's that he doesn't want to, but admitting that would mean accepting a life free of denial, and that's a step towards maturity Tony Stark's not entirely ready for yet.

Chapter 18

It's Carol, of course, that picks up something wrong as they fly towards StarkPark. The plan is to remove the StarkPod power sources, and take them to somewhere where Stane and his backers will find it extraordinarily difficult to retrieve them.

Tony momentarily mourns the loss of his amazing safety creation, but he has to put it aside; he was so fixated on the future he wanted that he forgot about the terrible futures that were just as likely to happen. Of course, it's a race against time; they can only assume Stane's tapped into their conversation even in the manor and is on his way there now.

And Carol, with her eerie limited precognitive "seventh sense", gets to her feet in the middle of the flight and heads to one of the wall panels, pulling up an internet browser before she stops, blinks, and then stares at it.

She looks back at the others, mouth pushed into a line. "I don't even— I don't know what I wanted to look up. It seemed really important for a moment there."

"Spider-Man," Steve says. He's been mostly quiet since taking off. "You getting anything?"

"Always difficult when flying," Spider-Man says. He gets up from his seat and walks over to stand next to Carol, staring at the panel. "Must be something to do with where we're going, though, right?"

"Can't hurt," Carol says, and leans over and types in StarkPark. And she swallows a sharp inhale with a whimpering sound. "Clint, Logan, put your foot down. I don't care if Rhodey comes after us, pissed we've gone too fast in his air zone. Floor it."

"Yes, ma'am," Logan drawls, slamming down the accelerator. Tony, at the back, staggers into the wall.

"Carol," Steve says, prompting her.

"This theme of things in plain sight that Stane's rolling with," Carol says, and punches in the command to copy the screen's display to all the screens in the quinjet. "I really don't like it."

Tony peers at the screen, and freezes in horror. It's an open invitation to seven local schools, to tour StarkPark before its grand opening.

And according to the spree of facebook likes and comments, there's at least thirteen classes have jumped on the opportunity.

Tony goes cold.

That's where Stane will be. With as many mercenaries as he's been able to divert from the five warehouse diversions, presumably.

It's going to be the worst bloodbath America's ever seen.

At least the park's not full, Tony thinks. If Stane had his way, that would have been his endgame for his death threats against me. I know it. And this proves it.

He swallows. This is it.

This is where Tony draws the line.

There's only one guaranteed way to distract Stane. To lure him away from StarkPark. There's only one prize big enough for that.

Bigger than killing children for some horrible infamy. Bigger than a hundred incredible power sources, sitting in easy grasp.

Live or die, Tony's charade is over.

Clint brings up the cameras when they get near, and Spider-Man hacks into SHIELD's more advanced sensors to get a better look.

True to Tony's deepest fears, there are at least three hundred children inside the park, and armed mercenaries at every exit.

Anger curls through him.

"Bring us down near the low buildings at the south-east end of the park," Steve says. "That's where the pods are stored. That's where Stane will be."

"You sure about that?" Cage asks.

Steve nods. "Stane was always a show-off. Hence all the melodrama over Tony's death threats."

"Hence all the kids trapped in an amusement park," Jan says, the closest tone to hatred that she ever gets lacing her voice.

"We're going to hand Stane's ass to him on a plate," Carol says. "You have our word on that, Cap."

"Kind of want to get him myself," Steve mutters, "but I guess I'll settle for a communal mauling."

"Fury does seem happy whenever we bond as a team," Clint says, happily. "Like that time with Loki and the paintballing. Good times."

"I'm pretty sure you weren't supposed to randomly swap paintballs for real ammo, Clint," Jan says, in a good approximation of schoolmarm sternness.

"Like I said," Clint says, still sounding cheerful, "good times."

Tony feels sick as they banter around him. If he gets his way, none of them will be fighting Stane.

That's going to be his pleasure.

"Don't worry, Steel," Steve says in a friendly tone as Clint and Logan start to land the quinjet. "We'll save you a punch or two in the soft spots."

"Completely unnecessary," Tony says, as the jet lands and all the Avengers rise, ready to fight.

A quick scan before they open the door reveals Ezekiel Stane isn't even hiding.

He's leaning arrogantly against the StarkPod storage bay, a smirk on his face.

Tony stays at the back of the group. Waiting. His skin's buzzing, and he's thinking irreverent thoughts to stop himself from trying to launch all his weapons at once. If he did that, Stane would start firing back here, and he can see the kids in the periphery of his vision.

The Avengers would be careful, but Stane would not be.

Tony needs to get Stane out of here. Far away.

He holds back for a moment, though, and watches Stane to see what his first move will be. Zeke's a couple years older now than the last time Tony saw him, jumping through a window of one of Tony's board meetings. He's not wearing a suit this time, which means Zeke's either got something absolutely terrible planned, or his sharp, young mind has been able to trump Tony's suit by light years.

Tony's getting the feeling from Stane's cocky smirk that it's the latter.

It's confirmed when Stane spreads his fingers and they light up, energy crackling and dancing between them. "Great, isn't it," Stane says, straightening up from the building, smiling at Steve in a slightly unhinged way. There's a lot of Obadiah in that expression, which makes Tony feel a little sad at how long he didn't see that Obadiah didn't have Tony's best interests at heart. "The suit's basically inside me now. I don't even need an arc reactor, it's all food. I barely need to breathe any more. I can make fireballs appear from my fingers simply by willing it." He smiles. "It's going to be fun fighting you old-timers. I've been waiting for an opportunity to stretch myself." His smirk stretches even further. "It's a pity I couldn't actually kill Tony by hand, but killing all his friends, well, that's gonna have to be good enough."

"Stand down now," Steve says, "and no one has to be hurt."

"Ugh," Zeke says, with feeling. "Cap, can I call you Cap?"

"No," Steve says.

"Cap," Zeke says, again, still with that off-hinge smile. "People getting hurt— No, let me clarify that. You and the children here getting hurt, that's my plan. Stark destroyed my family. Single-handedly, blew him out of the sky. So... why should anyone have a family? I'm fine on my own."

"You're insane," Carol whispers, and it feels like an understatement as Zeke laugh.

"Woman," Zeke says, prowling a little towards her, "that's only the beginning. So why don't you sit down, take that extraordinary weight off your feet, and watch the firework display. Pretty lights are so much better when accompanied by mindless screaming, don't you think?"

"Actually," Tony says, cutting through any retort Steve and Carol are both inhaling, ready to make, "that's not what's actually going to go on here."

"Uh," Zeke says, leaning his head to peer around Cage and Carol to look at him, "and you're going to stop me how?"

"I think you'll be busy following me," Tony says.

"Is this a cute distraction technique? Let the zombie waylay me until some magical SHIELD force can arrive?" Stane scoffs. "I won't be following you, sweetheart. I mean, I hardly think—"

"And that, right there, that might be the reason for your upcoming demise," Tony says, and executes a thumb twist at the base of his mask.

The unique thumb twist that overrides the lock and removes his face plate. It shudders around him and then collapses into the rest of the armor, and Tony curls his mouth into a cruel, pleased, taunting smirk, "I can think of one or two things," he finishes, calling out in his own voice, walking out to face Zeke, one-on-one.

He's dimly aware of the faces turning to him in shock. Of Jan's voice rasping, in shock, "Tony." Of Cage muttering, "Son of a bitch" and Carol moving to Steve's side. Steve batting away Carol's arm and staring and staring at the side of Tony's face, free now from the Steel Corpse mask.

He's dimly aware of all that, but everything he's sacrificed won't mean a thing unless he takes down the reason for all of this in the first place.

"Come and get me," Tony taunts, and jams the mask back on at the same time as finally letting his propulsion jets blaze.

"Knew she could fly," Clint mutters, as Tony takes to the sky. "Uh, or he."

Tony doesn't look back. His whole plan relies on Zeke being so angry that he will follow. Tony's not the perfect predictor of emotions, but he's got more than a passing acquaintance with anger and the notion of revenge.

"He's following," EDWIN says in his ears. "My sensors indicate he's powering up several tracking missiles. Shall I engage the auto-evade sequences?"

"Negative," Tony says, "Ezekiel Stane programs like me, he thinks like me. He'll have compensated his programs for my auto-evade. No, let's take this manual. He won't think I'm stupid enough for that."

"There may be a reason for that, sir."

"Let's say Stane thinks exactly like me. Calculate the likelihood of Stane using his self-destruct if we're too near civilization," Tony commands, manually scouring the screens. It's heavy dusk. If he survives this, he's going to have serious words with the teachers who didn't get suspicious at the last-minute late afternoon invitation to a rich-dead-crazy-man's amusement park.

"Calculating," EDWIN purrs.

He only has to go far enough to find somewhere unpopulated. EDWIN had been running predictions the whole flight to StarkPark, so Tony has several locations.

It all depends if he can reach one of them alive.

Which starts getting hairy when Zeke starts throwing energy bolts at him.

"Crap!" Tony yells, when one blast skirts so close that Tony feels like he should check whether he still has working genitalia. That'll have to wait. Even castration is preferable to death. Um. Probably. Tony's never had to really think seriously about that dilemma.

It's not reassuring to know that even in a life-or-death situation, Tony's brain can still merrily go off on insane tangents.

"Crap not recognized," EDWIN says. "Do you wish me to cancel calculations to receive another set of instructions?"

"Negative, EDWIN," Tony says. "Continue with current parameters."

"Calculating."

Tony thinks at first that he doesn't quite know where he's leading Zeke, but it's kind of a lie. It feels almost right to be leading him out to the facility where Obadiah Stane died.

Tony never built it back up, not fully. He completed the building and then conspired over the following years to keep it empty. As CEO of Stark Industries, he's compelled to visit every functional facility twice a year to inspect what's going on, and this place, he could never bear it.

Until now. Now he's so angry. Stane tried to steal his life. Stane would have stolen everything from him. Stane didn't even blink at the concept of killing children.

Killing Ezekiel Stane is a terrible necessity.

"Don't think I don't know where you're leading me," Stane catcalls from behind him, his voice travelling well in the wind, curling around Tony and echoing in the Steel Corpse helmet. "It'll be a pleasure to finish the job my father started."

"There's only one job my father started that he never got to finish," Tony says. The voice modulator's still using the female voices compilation, and Stane laughs at it.

"What's that?" Stane yells.

"He didn't finish raising me to be a gentleman," Tony says, and breaks in mid-air, suddenly, before releasing several of his weapons all over the damn place.

"That course of action is not advised," EDWIN informs him, as the suit goes into a crazy free-falling spin.

Stane's obviously not expecting it though, and is obviously using some sort of program to predict Tony's flight path — he continues accelerating, and doesn't compensate in time to avoid being hit by Tony's flailing fall. They both tumble down out of the sky, and land hard in amongst the trees that have been cultivated down at the end of the drive away from the building that once housed Stark's biggest arc reactor.

They're not matched evenly.

Despite the fact that Tony's suit is designed to hold a lot more weaponry, he's had to dispense quite a bit of it over the last couple of attacks, so he's not at 100% capacity. And while Tony's trying not to use EDWIN to predict Stane's attacks, because that would make his own movements too predictable, Stane obviously has no compunction in reverse.

Added to that, Stane's suit being so streamlined and barely perceptible means Stane's movement is faster, quicker, and much more flexible.

Tony's losing this fight.

What he hopes he's holding onto is one last piece of strategy. Using Stane's own tactics against him. With each exchanged round of parried blows and scattered energy bolts and dodged missiles, Tony edges a little more backwards. He acts like he's losing ground, and hopefully, just hopefully, Stane won't realize Tony's using Stane's tactics.

He won't notice that Tony's leading him backwards deliberately.

As he nears the building, Tony steadies himself, and then starts to use the sparring lessons Steve taught him. Acting as if he's not in the suit, that they're simply two kids having a brawl in the parking lot. Smirking, Stane takes to this change of pace, although he pushes power into his fists and that means his punches are doing serious damage to the Steel Corpse suit.

Tony's going to have to be peeled out of it before the day is through. Whether he's alive or genuinely dead this time will be decided by the next few minutes, Tony thinks. Because he's tiring. He's tiring, and Stane isn't, and Stane knows it.

Still, Tony has one last trick up his armored sleeve. He dodges backwards, stumbling up the steps, and Stane smirks, moving in for the kill, and Tony sees his opening and moves in with one of Steve's trademark power forward jabs. Stane instantly dodges it, but just like Tony, he doesn't anticipate a last minute pivot — Tony shoves Stane hard. Stane wobbles, trying to compensate for the change of direction, and Tony powers his kinetic energy penetration cannons into that wobble and Stane flies backwards through the glass doors of the building.

Stane powers himself up to his feet, but it's too late.

Tony had two miniature high explosive anti-tank warheads in his arsenal when this all began. The first one he wasted on Ironclad.

This one, he saved, for a moment like this.

Tony plants himself on the ground, feet wide, and sends the HEAT missile straight for Stane.

Stane turns, and starts running, but it's too late.

The resulting explosion knocks Tony backwards, off his feet and a long, long way. The suit sends up sparks as he's thrown along the long paved path, and he tumbles for a few moments until he's hurtled against a tree. The explosion sends flaming bricks down around him, and Tony covers his head with his arms until they still.

"Calculations of Ezekiel Stane using self destruct in this situation," EDWIN chimes in, completely too late, "eighty-four per cent likely."

Tony looks up through the smoke at the completely wrecked building, and starts to laugh.

He probably sounds crazier than Stane did.

---

As much as Tony would quite like to lie there and sleep for about a million years, he has to keep moving.

Nothing's over by a long shot.

The suit's completely useless now, but it doesn't matter — it did its job. Tony starts to peel himself out of it, chunk by chunk, even as the quinjet lands unsteadily in the clearing at the side of the smoking, burning building.

He doesn't look up, even as the Avengers pile out of the quinjet; he focuses on using a piece of his smashed-in forearm armor to level off some of the heavy chest piece. When he does look up, into what might be an almost hilarious row of Avengers, all wearing a different shade of shock on their faces, he has to blink a few times from the blood obscuring his vision.

Blood. Right. Tony smashes one of the metal gloves from his hands, and wipes it away. More blood flows. He doesn't know why he's a little surprised. He was never going to come out of a fight with any Iron Monger intact.

He needs to know how much damage has been done, and for that, he's going to need to get the whole chest plate off. Zeke definitely dogpiled a large chunk of building on him by getting himself blown up — something will have been crushed.

Tony pushes at it. It loosens, but it doesn't come off. He sighs, and it's Luke Cage that moves forwards, kneeling down at Tony's side and yanking off the whole chest piece all at once.

The impact of the battle with Zeke fused the chest piece to Tony's under-suit; all of it comes away, revealing how much the constant wear of the Steel Corpse suit has taken on Tony's body. His arc reactor chest plate is scratched, and the skin of his chest is covered in sores and bruises.

"Tony." Jan is the first to speak. She exhales his name like it's something special, like she's just saying it to see if it's even real. The sound of it seems to reassure her, because she rushes forward, tumbling to the ground and throwing her hands around his neck. "Tony, oh goodness, you're alive. We thought you were—" She frowns, and punches him in the shoulder. Even though she's human-sized at the moment, her fist is still tiny. Even though her fist is tiny, it still hurts.

"Dude, you're messed up," Spider-Man says with a low whistle. "Physically and mentally. It's not cool to fake your own death, man."

"Can we roll with good intentions and yell at me later for being an asshole?" Tony asks. His eyes hurt somewhat, and he can't really quite focus on any of the Avengers. Not that he really thinks he would if he could. There's more than an ounce of accusation in the stares, even amongst the relief that he's alive.

Steve hangs at the back, his face a blur, his whole body tight, his expression completely devoid of all emotion. Tony wants to talk to him, but he's scared that he won't say it right, that Steve will hate him.

His words curl back to Tony, I don't forgive liars. Even the compelling ones, and Tony takes the coward's route out and doesn't push trying to get Steve to say something.

The Avengers stay to root through the wreckage of the building, after telling Tony briefly that SHIELD sent the army to clear StarkPark; turns out that without Stane there, the mercenaries folded, from there and the other facilities around America.

They have to look through the wreckage. The explosion had been huge, and there isn't much chance Zeke has survived, but there is a chance.

It's kind of similar to what Tony survived, after all.

Happy drives up as the Avengers start to work through the wreckage, bringing Tony a change of clothes and some of the full-body bandages Tony had packed in anticipation of finally getting Zeke out into the open.

This plan was always going to hurt in every way possible.

Tony shouldn't be surprised that as soon as he gingerly manages to get his suit jacket back on, that Steve — who had been holding back, silently staring — comes to talk to him.

"I suppose we need to talk," Tony says, awkwardly. He wants to run away and hide, but he pushes all that down. He betrayed his friends. He lied to them. The least he owes them is to man up and be brave enough to accept his punishment.

"I suppose we do." Steve looks across at Happy, who's nervously looking between them, obviously wondering if he should step in or not. "Hogan, I'm just going to borrow your boss for a moment."

Happy starts forward an inch, protesting. Tony shakes his head, no, I have to do this. Happy sags back down, but he still looks worried. "Be gentle with him," Happy says, his voice low. "He's hurt."

Steve jerks his head in a sharp nod. His face is all angles, calm on the outside, but there's a storm boiling beneath his skin, behind his eyes. Tony mutely follows him a short way away from the path, a little way into the trees.

He follows until Steve stops. Steve keeps his back to him. He has his shield on his back, but Tony can still see the tense set of his shoulders. Tony wants Steve to turn around, to see his face, but it's also easier like this.

"There's nothing I can say quickly to make this right," Tony says. His eyes scan Steve's back, searching to see an inch of a reaction, but Steve's back holds no answers to Tony's questions. Tony doesn't deserve for it to be that easy, anyway. "I regret that... certain things were necessary for the outcome, but I don't regret what I did."

Steve's silent. Tony swallows. He'd anticipated rage, anger, grief, relief, sorry, betrayal, distrust, insults, a lecture — he hadn't anticipated a complete lack of response. He should have.

"You lied to us," Steve says, his voice low. Almost gravelly. He does turn to face Tony, then, but there is no warmth to his expression. He's as cold as the night around them. "You lied to me. You lied to the team."

"I know I messed up—" Tony starts.

"Messed up?" Steve stares at Tony, flint-hard. "You let us think you were dead. What kind of a monster does that?"

"I was trying to protect you," Tony says, and because this cold, resistant Steve is so hard, he adds, cowardly, "all of you."

"And the only way you could think of doing that was by lying to us. Not once. Repeatedly. You faked your death, and then you faked being someone else." Steve pushes into Tony's personal space, without a hint of gentleness. "How are we supposed to trust you after that?"

"I—" Tony starts. His stomach drops, and his eyes score across Steve's face, desperately searching for an inch of compassion. "Steve, I thought—"

"What?" Steve shakes his head. "What did you think? That we were friends?" Steve steps back, once. Twice. "I thought so too. I guess I was wrong. Friends don't do something like this to each other, Tony."

Tony tries his best not to flinch. He holds himself up straight, not really knowing where he's finding the strength. "I kind of thought we were headed to something more than friends," he admits, quietly. The elegiac spell of the words knots around the base of his skull; a bitter tang colors his tongue.

Steve laughs, humorlessly. "You thought wrong."

"Steve—" Tony pushes, because that's who he is. He pushes. Even when his world is slowly falling apart.

"I can't trust you. The team can't trust you. You're off the Avengers, Tony." Steve shrugs. "You're a liability."

All the loss that Tony's been feeling, palpable and churning, drops away. Solidifies into a burning edge of anger. "You can't just throw me off the team. I faked my death to keep you all safe." Tony moves forwards, soft and entreating. "I couldn't bear the idea of you being hurt because of me. So I did what I had to do. Doesn't that count for anything?" And because this has been killing him, and because Steve has been so close to him for weeks, breaking apart, and Tony hasn't been able to touch him, he reaches up now. Unable to help himself. His fingers curl into Steve's cheek, and Steve is real beneath his touch, and Steve is alive, and that's all that matters, in the end.

It still doesn't stop Tony's heart from lurching, and reaching for more.

For an instant, Steve pushes his cheek into Tony's fingertips. For that moment, Tony lets a flame of hope flicker across his nerves.

It's a flame that dies when Steve doesn't respond. Tony lets his hand fall.

"All it says is yet again, you couldn't trust us enough with the truth. You're off the Avengers, Tony. You, Iron Man, Steel Corpse, whoever. Final word." Steve steps backwards, eyes cold with repressed loathing. "You're out of our lives. I want you out of my life, Tony. For good."

"Steve," Tony says, pleadingly, but he's out of words. How can there be any words for his real worst nightmares, spinning into life in the air between them?

Steve turns. Starts to walk away. Pauses, but doesn't look back. "Don't call us. We won't call you."

Tony stares after him, lost. Hating.

Someone I loved. Steve's words from the graveside, the words that have been simultaneously empowering Tony forward, and causing him the most guilt. Someone I loved.

It was past tense. Something gone.

Something that doesn't come back.

Fake dying, the Steel Corpse suit, it all hurt.

It was nothing compared to this.

Chapter 19

The thing is, Tony would be quite happy now not to see the Avengers again, but Director Fury has other ideas.

Until they can confirm Stane is gone and the Mandarin has no follow-through plans in the event of Stane's death, Fury confines Tony to the Avengers' mansion.

Steve takes it personally. As Tony's taken to the helicarrier's medbay, he goes back to the mansion. By the time Tony's allowed back down to the ground, and bundled into the mansion, Steve's long gone. His meagre personal possessions and clothes are gone too, and there's a note on his desk.

It's on a post-it note, but this one has no doodle, and none of Steve's warmth. It says, don't come after me.

Tony's heart has never been right after Afghanistan, with the metal shards inching towards it, creeping, deadly, leaving him minutes from death should his arc reactor ever fail. It never worked, but now...

Now Tony thinks it's broken clean in two.

There are certain downsides to coming back from the dead.

There are a lot of jokes. There is a lot of sulking. There are a lot of passive aggressive comments. Tony tries his best to keep as much out of the way as he can, feeling terribly awkward, but all the bad feeling goes away by accident — when Pepper drops by to come make Tony eat regular healthy food (instead of binging on junk food down in his workshop), and Tony sort of bleeds all over the kitchen.

Accidentally.

So of course Pepper fusses in public, without having the decorum to pull him off to one side, and the Avengers are treated to an eyesore of a show and they see just how much damage wearing a metal suit 24/7 does to a healthy body (a clue: various nasty things, including sores, bruises, bleeding and pus, and Tony's on so many antibiotics and painkillers that he'll probably have to go into rehab when this is all over.)

The upside is it hits home how much Tony suffered to keep them safe.

The coffin nail blow to the meaner side of the snarking comes when SHIELD uncover Stane's original plans in the smoking remains of his childhood home.

Tony had to send Bruce to blow it up before his ruse was discovered, else SHIELD would never have allowed it, and Tony's ultimate back-up plan should they find Ezekiel Stane survived the explosion would collapse like a house of cards made of tissue paper and rain.

Tony was right. The original plans would have escalated to a massacre at StarkPark.

But there was a hell of a lot else Stane was planning, and hell is probably the right word for it.

There are detailed schematics of all of the Avengers' weaknesses, and there's an entire gigabyte-worth of photos of Steve, and Steve and Tony. Stane had been scouring SHIELD's and the Avengers' security systems for months. His whole plan pivoted on hurting Steve and killing kids before stealing the StarkPods and finally killing Tony in a terrible and painful manner.

After, of course, killing as many Avengers as possible in front of him.

Tony's vindicated, then. It's a shame Steve can't see it, but he'd probably still be furious at Tony either way.

Steve isn't someone who easily believes that the outcome always justifies the means.

Still, the other Avengers become nicer to him (still with the ghost and zombie jokes, of course), and things are at some sort of a level where Tony doesn't quite feel like he's wrecking the world by venturing outside of his workshop every now and again.

Of course, venturing outside means he's a target for the other kind of snarking the Avengers are good for.

The regular kind. Not the passive, aggressive painful kind.

"Hey," Spider-Man says brightly, agilely lighting down on the stool next to Tony, "pudding."

The normal interaction is Parker's way of letting Tony know there's no hard feelings.

It's pretty obvious that this is how the Avengers have decided en masse to treat him. They've all given him some variation of the "thanks for saving our lives, but be that much of a giant dick again and we'll kill you ourselves" speech, which is gonna mean things would be a lot more awkward should there ever be some sort of civil rift that pitches superhero against superhero, because Tony doesn't think that part of his personality is ever going to change. He'll probably always be a dick in the name of saving of lives. That's who he is. He's still the closest thing to a monster that the Avengers really have, and he'll always be the one to make the decisions and do the things they can't.

"It looks really good," Spider-Man whines. It's best to think of him as Spider-Man when he's in the outfit. Less likely that Tony'll slip and say something he shouldn't.

"You're not having it," Tony tells him, flatly. "You can afford your own."

"On the wages you pay me?" Spider-Man mutters. "It takes me just out of the pudding budget."

"Let me call Pepper and give you a pay rise," Tony says, grinning.

"Underneath my mask there is a withering expression."

"And if I was wearing a mask, there's pudding in my cakehole," Tony says, and shoves in pretty much all of the pudding in one go.

He regrets nothing. He's been eating weird crap for weeks.

"Ugh," Spider-Man says, with feeling.

"You know there's pudding in the fridge, right?" Tony asks.

"It all says Jan on it," Spider-Man says. Tony frowns, lifts the pot up, and there — in neat letters — it does say "JAN'S!"

"She can't claim all the pudding," Tony says. "I'm pretty sure I buy all the food around here."

"It's the brand name, dumbasses," Logan says, sauntering through the kitchen, snagging a beer and continuing to saunter through. He does that a lot. Tony suspects sometimes he pauses around a corner, waiting for the perfect time to land an insult. Whatever, sometimes Tony ends up on fire doing the things he likes to do. He probably cannot judge.

"Oh," Spider-Man says. He kicks his feet against the stool. "Okay. But stolen pudding tastes better."

"Yeah, it kinda does," Tony agrees. "You know what also tastes good?" Spider-Man turns his mask towards him, curiously. "Pudding you buy yourself."

Spider-Man makes a strangled noise and turns his face up to the ceiling and mutters something like I will not murder Tony Stark, I will not murder Tony Stark, it doesn't matter that there's still an empty grave and a convenient headstone, I will not murder Tony Stark.

"Be a shame if you did," Tony says, scraping out the pudding from the bottom of the cup. "Pepper might fire your wife from her new job."

"Pepper might what now?" Spider-Man demands.

"You should probably call her," Tony says, shrugging. "You said I couldn't promote you. You didn't say anything about her. I was looking for a new princess for StarkPark's merchandising. With the parks we have set to roll out across the world, she might get a little famous."

"I," Spider-Man says, faintly, "you—"

"Totally legit too," Tony says. "She auditioned while I was still Steel Corpse and couldn't contact Pepper for fear of endangering us all."

"But," Spider-Man says, "Guh—" He drops off the stool and fumbles in his suit and pulls out his cellphone. "MJ. Hey. I'm sorry, I guess I missed my phone buzzing."

There's a burst of excited chatter on the other end.

"Yeah," Spider-Man says in reply to it, and he looks in Tony's direction, "yeah, that's pretty awesome." He turns away and starts to walk out of the kitchen. "We should get some celebratory pudding." A burst of noise. "The suit stretches." A laugh, the most relaxed laugh Tony thinks he's heard from either Parker or Spider-Man over the last year. "Yeah, I know." His voice trails out.

"You know," Carol says, from somewhere behind Tony, "I don't even want to know where Parker hides his cellphone when he's in the suit."

She comes and sits next to Tony and stares out at the direction Peter left through.

"You know Spider-Man's real identity?" Tony asks.

"I always did," Carol says, shrugging. "I vet all of the Stark employees."

Tony looks at her, wordlessly.

"Ex-CIA, I can't help it," she says.

Tony keeps staring.

"Shut your mouth, honey, I could drive a tank through it," Carol tells him. Tony snaps his mouth shut. "Parker's got a distinctive ass. The spandex highlights that rather than hides it."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Tony says, and resigns himself to the fact that next time he'll end up checking out Parker's ass automatically. Dammit.

"You know what you could do?" Carol asks, bumping his shoulder with his. "I figured out the reason Stane didn't find you at Pepper's was because someone is drinking a little less than normal. He was tracking her groceries. When your usual alcohols weren't on the list, he completely dismissed her."

Tony looks at her sourly. "It was kind of part of the plan," Tony mutters. "Which sucks because St—" Carol's expression softens. "Stane was a bastard," he finishes, not fooling either of them that he was about to say Steve and he choked.

"You going to start again?" Carol asks.

Tony looks at her. Her expression is intent despite her casual tone, and that's when he realizes. He knows her past included a stint in rehab; he just has such a high esteem for her that he's never really pushed to see what kind of rehab it was. "I don't want to," he admits, in a thick voice.

"Then come to my next AA meeting with me," Carol says.

Tony pulls a face. "It's not like I can exactly be anonymous."

"It's a superhero AA group."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Tony says.

Carol shakes her head. "Nope. Not 'til you've replaced the craving with an addiction for shitty coffee and group hugs."

"Ugh," Tony says.

"Or I could keep getting angry at you that you conned your own team," Carol says, with a shrug.

"That's a card you can only play once," Tony says, in an exaggerated tone of outrage.

"No way," Carol says, "I'm riding this card to a new car and maybe a shopping spree."

"Okay, deal," Tony says.

"Really?" Carol says. "I should have held out for more."

"You really should," Tony agrees. "Clint got a three week vacation in Bali, two motorcycles, a new crossbow and a Picasso."

"I didn't specify what car I wanted," Carol says. She grins at him. Tony rolls his eyes. "Spider-Man's my new favorite," he tells her. "He's way less materialistic."

So of course that's ruined when Spider-Man runs back into the kitchen, flings open the fridge door, and emerges with a handful of puddings.

"Don't eat them all at once you'll be sick," Carol warns him, as he turns to run back out of the kitchen.

"I won't," Spider-Man yells, and starts to literally skip out of the kitchen. Happiness, Tony decides, is definitely a good look on him. Spider-Man skids to a halt and throws them an accusing look over his shoulder. "Are you guys checking out my ass?" he asks, in an appalled tone.

Tony and Carol look up at his face, with matching guilty expressions.

"I feel totally violated," Spider-Man whines, and uses his spider-web to grab a spoon from the cutlery carousel before slumping out of the room, covering his ass with one hand.

"I'll violate you," Logan's voice drifts out from the next room. "Hey, is that Jan's pudding?"

Spider-Man makes a yelping sound, and then there's the sound of thundering feet.

"Ah, the pitter-patter of tiny feet in spandex," Tony says.

"One day you're going to come up with your own genius and stop quoting Firefly," Carol says. "You're not cool enough to say anything that Joss Whedon has written."

"I'm a billionaire," Tony sniffs, "I could make Joss Whedon do nothing but make movies about me for years."

Carol side-eyes him. "Doesn't Pepper still have control of your fortune?"

"Details," Tony sniffs. He pushes himself back from the table, realizing he can only sit and scrape at the empty pudding pot for so long. "I'm gonna go do some work downstairs."

Carol twists on the stool to look at him as he heads for his basement. "Tony," she says. "Steve'll come back."

He looks across at her, and because he's home, and because she's the closest thing to family he's even got, he doesn't hide the sadness that's been living in him since Steve's angry tirade in the forest. There are no words that aren't mindless screaming, and Tony doesn't deserve even that much release.

"Some things get broke," Tony says, borrowing another Firefly quote with less mirth in it, "can't be fixed."

Carol's expression softens, and she nods at him, commiserating with him.

It's too much emotion, and there's too much truth in it, so Tony hightails it out of there, heading to his workshop. The last place in the world where he thinks he can maybe do some good.

He's working on a way to geographically limit the arc reactors. He thinks it's going to work. The technology's already impossible to retro-engineer; all Tony has to do is make sure it quits working outside of the StarkPark grounds, and then it doesn't matter if anyone steals one. For the moment, the pods are still there, but this time they're guarded by SHIELD's elite. Agent Hill's even in the squad. The park itself is shut down until future notice, and that's sad, but maybe it's for the best.

Tony sinks gingerly into his chair and pretends for a moment that he's not brooding. His workshop seems painfully empty without Steve's papers littering the walls, but the room had been just plain painful with them there.

Tony taps his fingers against the nearest tabletop, counts to four silently, and then says, "Y'know, it's kinda creepy how you can do that without any sort of stealth technology."

Tony spins in time to see Nick Fury step away from the corner he was stood in, presumably the spot he's picked to stand and wait for Tony to come downstairs.

Tony's been expecting this talk for days. Probably the exact reason why Fury's been delaying it. To make Tony stew and imagine all the terrible things Fury will say or do to him.

"My favorite part of all of this were the moments you did what I said," Fury says, with an almost soft and dreamy tone.

Tony gives him a flat look which clearly spells out everything he felt about that part of his plan. "Did you know it was me?" he asks, rather than a few choice insults he has stored up for Fury one-on-ones; at the end of the day, Tony's still a scientist, and curiosity will always be his biggest sin.

Among others.

"I didn't want to know," Fury says. "If I looked close enough, chances are that Stane would know too."

"So that would be the same reason why you didn't re-sweep for an invisible mole once we knew bad guys had been escaping your prisons," Tony says.

"I was following SHIELD protocol," Fury says. "I suppose my next job is now filing a report as to how that protocol needs alterations."

"And your entire security system," Tony says. He holds up a tablet with a spree of code on it. "I've already fixed ours. I'd be happy to give you a hand with SHIELD's systems."

Fury smiles, rocks on his feet. "While you install a thousand backdoors of your own? We're doing everything in-house now. Save us the embarrassment of heavily bribed government officials sending in outside contractors with that much infiltration to SHIELD facilities and the Avengers' quinjet and mansion."

"Yeah, last time I let SHIELD put anything in here," Tony says, firmly. "Except... you kind of guessed something like this would happen."

"Why would I suspect something like this would happen and do nothing to stop it?" Fury asks. "That's crazy talk."

"The Avengers are big. We're bound to pick up a few enemies. One was bound to take it big and crazy and insane eventually," Tony says. "It's what you said before, when you got Steel Corpse painted up like Iron Man. You wanted Stane to come after us. You wanted the trail."

"It's all about cost, isn't it? The decisions we make. Sometimes when you have the choice, and both options tank ass, sometimes..." Fury shrugs. "Sometimes you gotta be a bad guy to be a good guy in the end."

"You've been feeding them misinformation," Tony says.

Fury shrugs. "I'd only hypothetically agree that would be an interesting strategy. Plant things that will have repercussions for years."

"And if Stane had really succeeded in killing me?" Tony asks.

"There's always a terrible price to pay when you make a decision like this," Fury says. "And I think you know that more than most."

Tony's eyes flutter shut for a moment. Steve. Steve's the biggest cost that Tony never anticipated having to pay. "Still," Tony says brightly, because lingering on his grief (okay, brooding) is for later, when he can curl up under the covers and whine into his pillows about how much of an idiot he is, "I'm your favorite nuclear deterrent. You missed me being a giant pain in your butt. You said that. No take backsies."

Fury actually winces. It's difficult to get that sort of a reaction from the stoic superspy. "I regret ever saying that," Fury says.

"But it's true," Tony says, sing-song. "You like me. You really missed me. You wanna hug me—"

"—is that the terrible song from Miss Congeniality?" Fury asks.

Tony stops singing, and freezes. "You've watched Miss Congeniality?"

"Please," Fury says. "We've all watched Miss Congeniality to keep Janet van Dyne smiling."

Tony grins. Fury had used the word adorable in her last report. Jan's charms were irresistible. "Any new information on the Mandarin? Hammer?"

Fury straightens, obviously happier to be on more solid ground than how Jan had wrapped them all around her little finger. "They've retreated for now. We probably won't hear from them for a couple of years. They've got wounds to lick. The Mandarin won't be happy he sunk that much money into killing you and you're walking around, sassy as usual."

Tony smirks. "I do aim to be a thorn in his backside. It's a giddy sort of pleasure."

"And for your real question," Fury says, "I haven't heard from Steve Rogers in 12 hours. I've got people shadowing him."

Tony's smirk fades, and he thinks about the sassy things he should be saying, to prove he doesn't care, but he does care. He cares too much. He nods instead, a painful movement that hurts for reasons other than the sores all over his skin and the sprained muscles throughout his body.

"As pleasant as this chit-chat is," Fury says, in a tone which says it's anything but, "I have actual work to do instead of babysitting you."

"It's always a pleasure to see you go," Tony manages, throwing Fury an off-centre salute.

Fury nods, and starts to stride off towards the stairs. "Oh, and Tony?"

"Yes?" Tony looks over to him.

"You did what you had to. My official report credits you with the Avengers' continued survival, and I really believe that."

Tony bows his head a little, and when he looks up, it's with a hopeless shrug and a horribly genuine, self-loathing expression. "I wish everyone else saw it that way," Tony says, meaning I wish Steve saw it that way.

Fury nods, like he understands. Of course he does. He's the world's best spy, after all. It's just a shame he's as much a friend as Tony is to making the difficult decisions. "In your place," Fury tells him, in a sombre voice which says that this time, at least, Fury's being honest. "I'd have done exactly what you did."

Tony pulls a face. "That's not a comfort."

Fury smiles, and turns his back and starts to leave again. "I'm glad you're alive, Tony."

"That's not a comfort either," Tony calls to his retreating back. Fury chuckles, and sweeps up the stairs.

Tony's very good at getting absorbed in his work. Say what you like about his playboy tendencies, he's very much a work hard, play hard kind of guy. So if he ends up having a fast and loose relationship with the concept of time, so be it. Tony's used to it, and he's proved over and again he can still fulfil his Avengers' duties while working or playing all hours.

Now he may not be able to.

You're off the Avengers, Tony. Steve's words ring in his ears. Tony might still be able to wander around the Avengers' (his own!) mansion, but he's fooling no one; he knows as well as the others, pleasant as they are, that as soon as SHIELD has cleaned up any trail Ezekiel Stane has left and it's safe for Tony to be out and about in public again, that he'll have to leave.

Tony can't be responsible for taking Captain America from the Avengers.

As soon as Tony gets the all-clear from SHIELD, he'll move out.

It's an odd feeling, knowing he'll never get to fight with the Avengers again. Still, it doesn't mean he's out of the game. Iron Man used to be a solo player, and that's what he's good at. Tony never knew how to play with others.

He was fooling himself to think he ever could.

Chapter 20

Work is mostly a distraction, and it's somewhat pleasant having JARVIS back.

Tony winds him back a year, actually, to make sure the very clever worm virus Stane piggy-backed into SHIELD and JARVIS to hack their security is completely gone. JARVIS was kind of a grumpy ass about it. Tony's somewhat tempted to download JARVIS into an environment where he can meet EDWIN. JARVIS' sarcasm and EDWIN's stubbornness would probably be an epic combination.

Then he remembers how his arc reactor-powered StarkPods could have been misused and he shelves all probably-apocalyptic inventions to one side for the moment.

While he has access to this workshop, Tony sets JARVIS off on fixing up Iron Man Mark Sixteen (and it will be such a relief wearing a suit that properly recycles water and retracts and is comfortable and he can shrug and speak without having to think about it first) and becomes so engrossed in working on the geographical-power-limiters (he'll work on the name for them later) that he doesn't notice how late it is until his lab suddenly floods with light.

Tony wobbles in shock, and manages to stay on the chair, flailing and grabbing at the desk instead of tumbling completely to the floor. He doesn't realize how much he's automatically expecting it to be Steve until he looks up and it's not.

His heart still thumping in his chest, Tony smiles weakly at Bruce.

He knew this moment was going to happen, eventually, but if there's one thing that Tony's as good at as denial it's avoiding people.

"So you've been avoiding me, Mr. Stark," Bruce says, leaning against the wall where Steve used to lean, making Tony look away more harshly than he means.

He owes Bruce some apologies, and he really should start getting to them.

"Hey, you know, I have two PhDs," Tony says, instead of an apology, "that's double yours, and you get called Doctor and I don't. What's that about?"

Bruce actually laughs a little, and shoves his hands in his pockets, ambling over. "So whatcha working on, Dr. Stark?"

"Yeuch, it sounds terrible," Tony says, "scratch that I ever made that complaint. Uh," he adds, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, "there's a lot of things that I say that I would like to scratch from all record of existence."

Okay, so that probably would have been better delivered to Bruce's face rather than the desk, but Tony didn't completely stumble over it, and he didn't vomit halfway through (Pepper, the usual target of Tony's regret, appreciated that kind of apology the least) and it was in mostly human language.

"You don't have to say sorry," Bruce says, and Tony's head lurches up to meet Bruce's eyes.

"I really do," Tony says, and he straightens, and says it, in a more sensible voice, "I was a dick to you. I should have made sure you knew that, tragedy aside, it wasn't me you should have been apologizing to at all."

Bruce smiles, but it's still that horribly tight, self-deprecating smile that feels like sandpaper on a cut. "It doesn't matter that you weren't the father, Tony. I still killed a kid, took away Pepper's chance to be—" He inhales, sharp and slow. "It's bad. That sort of thing, that doesn't get absolved because someone else was a jerk."

"I resemble that jerk remark," Tony says, and then puts down the tablet he's holding. "Do you blame Clint? Back during the whole Loki and the tesseract, end of the world, Chitauri thing? Baby, you've got to remember when we first met."

Bruce shouts out a laugh, and then looks startled. "Of course I remember that," Bruce says. "Meeting you was one of the most traumatic incidents of my life." He looks down, and shrugs at the floor, and looks up. "I know what you're trying to do. Of course I don't blame Clint."

"How about the time Ultron put that virus in my suit — for like the millionth time, by the way — and I tried to assassinate the President?" Tony says. "I killed four bystanders that time."

"The suit and the virus killed four bystanders— Tony, quit it."

"I have at least fifty million more examples," Tony says. "How about me, still breathing, and that annoying someone into killing Galaga guy, and rigging up three teenage boys into exploding bombs, killing over a hundred civilians in public."

"Don't tell me you don't feel guilty as hell about that," Bruce says, sounding a little wrecked. There are bags under his eyes that Tony didn't notice before, but maybe that's because Bruce always has them. Has always had them. Has always been ripping himself apart from every single mistake.

Tony knows that feeling. Living under Howard Stark was that feeling. Every moment since deciding to fake his death has resonated with that feeling.

"I think that guilty feeling proves we're human," Tony says, saying it the moment he really realizes it for himself. "Everything we've done... There's been civilian casualties, collateral damage, the whole nine yards. We're targets. We all do terrible things in the name of good. But that's what it is at the end of the day. Good. And at the end of the day the only things we can take responsibility for are the choices we make. Not things that are decided for us."

Bruce inhales, exhales, and shrugs. "I still chose to dose myself with gamma radiation."

"Yeah," Tony says, "that was science. It's the choices you've made since that make you a hero, Bruce." Bruce rolls his eyes, but can't help the small flush of pink rising up onto his neck, meaning Tony's hit a nerve in a good way. "Terrible privilege, remember?"

"Right," Bruce says. "Right." He toys with something on Tony's desk, and looks away when he says, "You ever thought about listening to your own words, Tony?"

"Ugh, no, don't reverse this back on me. That backwards psychology shit? Get out of my workshop, Banner. Shoo. Scram." Tony waves his hands, and Bruce, ducking his head and laughing, turns and does that. Bruce is almost to the door when Tony clears his throat, and adds, "You should go see Pepper. She's not been angry at you at all for years. I lied about that too."

"I know," Bruce says, looking back over his shoulder. "I went to see her first. She called me a giant idiot for believing your bullshit. But you know how it is."

Tony tilts his head, not sure what Bruce is getting at.

"It's easier to believe the bad things people say to you and the bad things you tell yourself than anything," Bruce says, holding Tony's gaze.

Tony nods, and smiles sadly. "I am sorry."

Bruce waves his hand. "Water under the bridge," he says. "Oh, speaking of water, there's a funny puddle in your Iron Man recharging alcove in the hall. Is something leaking?"

Tony freezes, and winces. The Steel Corpse waste liquid. Oops. "Yeah, um, yeah. I really don't recommend touching that."

"I didn't," Bruce says, "but Cage did."

"Tell him to go beg Jan for her antibacterial soap," Tony says, "and I'll wash up and come clean up my mess."

"Oh," Bruce says. "Ugh."

Tony shrugs expansively, and Bruce shakes his head ruefully before patting the wall and jogging up the stairs. He looks less strained then when he entered. Tony's friendship with Bruce feels like it's back — stained, damaged, different — but not gone, and that's a dizzyingly good feeling.

If only all friendships were fixable.

Even though he needs to go and clean up his own mess, Tony does still need to go to the bathroom or risk making more mess. He thinks of another term for the mess upstairs to dissuade Cage from punching him if he asks what it is. Biochemical waste? No, Cage will still punch him for that. Leaky pipe? That wouldn't fly either — Tony's been pretty expansive with his euphemisms for certain bodily parts in the past.

He's still mulling it over when he limps over to wash his hands and is startled by his own reflection. Completely gaunt, sunken-eyed, facial hair a mess... no wonder the ghost and zombie jokes have been pretty continuous. Tony leans on the sink, and splashes his face with water, taking a moment to revel in the sensation.

It's easier to take pleasure in the small things now Tony knows how close he came to a living hell.

But if Tony's going to move on from this, and focus on the future — no futurist remains at the top of their game by lingering on the past (remembering the past to avoid duplicating mistakes, yes; wallowing in the mistakes, no) — then Tony needs to get rid of the things he doesn't need.

Like the little pile of papier-mâché death threats secreted under his sink.

Tony reaches down, and his fingers curl around the mashed-up paper, and he freezes.

Because the small balled up death-threats aren't the only thing under there.

Tony's fingers close on something else. A small square of paper.

Tony freezes, because although he's pretty sure he's wiped out all the surveillance, but he may never be free of the worry he hasn't; after all, he never noticed the backdoor Justin Hammer had apparently had installed in the software the first go around. And as Ezekiel Stane was proof — Tony wasn't young any more. There were younger, more amazing brains being born every day.

One day Tony won't be at the top of his technological game. And that day, Tony will have to rely on his other smarts and the knowledge that's won from toil and experience.

He doesn't think that day's arrived quite yet, but it doesn't hurt to start practicing.

Tony pulls out all the paper, and makes a show off flushing the small balls down the toilet, while keeping the square of paper in his palm.

When he comes out of the bathroom, Pepper's there, waiting by his desk.

"I should adjust the sign on the door that says thoroughfare," Tony says, throwing her a side-glance as he rounds the desk and spins into his chair. He smiles. "It's good to see you, Pep."

Pepper shrugs. "I know." She grins at him, and he rolls his eyes and reaches under his desk as she puts a whole bunch of papers down on top of it. "Brought you these, hot from the lawyers. Seventy-four signatures and you're officially back to life and in control of your own company again."

He'd already tried to get her to keep the whole lot, but Pepper refused; that much money makes me a target, she told him on the phone. No one wants that.

Least of all Tony, which is why he doesn't try to persuade her otherwise now. "Only seventy-four?" Tony says. "This would be why you're worth the big bucks."

"Well," Pepper says, "it would have been more but I decided to keep some of Stark Industries. For services rendered, et cetera. Mostly damage payment, really."

Tony looks up sharply from the second of the million and four required signatures. He doesn't bother reading what Pepper gives him, so he could be signing over everything including his internal organs.

Tony wouldn't complain; she deserves it all.

"I didn't break a thing," Tony says. "Well, I built a secret basement under your house, but that's helpful enlargement. And now I sound like a Viagra advert."

"I wasn't going to say that," Pepper says, flashing him her but I was thinking it smirk. Tony buries his head down in the paperwork, working through her helpful sticky tabs to get straight to where the signatures are needed. He pauses between a couple of pages, and finishes fishing out what he was going for when she came in.

He drops the post-it scrapbook to one side and keeps working through the signatures.

"Am I not nearly done yet?" Tony whines, shoving another folder to the side and flicking through the next one. "This has to be against the Geneva convention, or something."

"I'll get you the number for Amnesty International when you're done," Pepper says. Tony smothers a smile, and has to adjust the post-it scrapbook to move to the next lot of folders. "I ran into Bruce on the way here. You boys kiss and make up?"

Tony makes a noncommittal sound in his throat.

"Good," Pepper says, humming happily.

"And, uh, how was it seeing him?" Tony asks. He wants to keep looking at the papers, but he looks up at her speculatively.

"Oh, you know, fine," Pepper says, and Tony keeps staring, so she rolls her eyes. "Seeing Bruce is okay. If I had to see the Hulk—" She shrugs. "That might hurt a little, for a while. But that's the thing about time—"

"Don't tell me it heals," Tony mutters.

"—it anaesthetizes," Pepper finishes. She shrugs, and it's a tight movement, like she has to remember to ask her muscles to do it, and Tony finally, finally knows what that feels like. "Sometimes shit happens. It's the way of the world. But that's what the Avengers are here for."

"We're the shit that happens?"

"According to Cage, yes," Pepper says. Tony winces. "Some shit no one can clean up. And some shit only the Avengers can clean up. We're lucky to have you."

"I," Tony says, "can't quite believe you used shit so many times without even flinching. Miss. Potts, I think you've grown up."

"Nope," Pepper says, smiling.

"Sorry, what was I thinking? You were born fully grown, growing up is an impossible concept to you," Tony says, scrawling his name for the forty-seven thousandth time on Pepper's papers.

"I had a childhood. I was a child," Pepper says, frowning. "I meant, that from now on, you may refer to me as Mrs. Potts-Hogan."

Tony looks up again, and grins, honestly surprised. "Really," he says, sarcasm flattening out what should be a question into more of a statement.

"Well," Pepper says, "you're the idiot who fake married me to him to make your hiding spot more legitimate, or whatever that mumbled small print was. It didn't make any sense to not be married at the end of it."

"I see," Tony says. "So really, you're just being lazy."

"That's it," Pepper says. "Fake divorces for fake marriages are so much work."

"And you're all about not doing work," Tony says, signing his name for the seventy-eight thousand, nine-hundred and sixty-third time.

"I'm the definition of laidback," Pepper deadpans. "Sign in the box, Tony, c'mon, how hard is it to sign in one tiny inoffensive box," she adds without even missing a beat, jabbing one of her perfect fingernails at where Tony's poised his pen in the wrong place.

"I'm sorry, I'm a terrible person who doesn't understand boundaries," Tony says, and signs the billionth signature (he's always been mentally melodramatic about signing his name, okay) with a flourish. "Won't happen again." He pushes over the stack of papers.

"Yeah, it will," Pepper says, with a small smile, "but I'm kinda okay with that." She bends to scoop up the pile of folders, and straightens. "Welcome back to real life, Mr. Stark."

"Thank you, Mrs. Pot—I can't say it. I can't make myself say that. It's a terrible name," Tony says. "It's like... verbal cat food. It ranks with all those other stupid words."

"My name ranks with other stupid words," Pepper repeats, with a slight tone of danger to it.

"Like shenanigan. And hooliganism."

"Funny, how you hate words that pretty much define you," Pepper tells him, smirking at him.

"Shut up, I could totally rock Mrs. Potts-Hogan as a name," Tony mutters, and idly flips open his post-it note scrapbook.

"Oh, Tony," Pepper breathes, and he looks up to see her amused look has been abandoned in favor of a more worried expression.

"What?" Tony says, and then follows her gaze to the scrapbook. "Oh, come on, it's not what it looks like — I'm not hiding in my workshop and brooding because Captain Perfect America kicked me off the Avengers and vowed never to trust me again and—" He trails off. "Okay, I'm sat in my workshop brooding. So sue me."

"I might," Pepper says. "You're worth a lot of money again." Her words are humorous, but she still has a sad, knowing expression on her face that's too much to look at for more than a second.

So Tony looks down again at the scrapbook, and his fingers automatically graze some of the small illustrations. TONY, DON'T FORGET TO CALL PEPPER. TONY! JAN ATE YOUR PUDDING AND SHE'S VERY SORRY. TONY, PLEASE STOP TELLING CAGE YOU'LL PUT HIM IN HIS NAMESAKE IT'S NOT FUNNY. TONY, WE MISS YOU, COME AND WATCH BAD TV WITH US.

Something hot and painful jabs behind Tony's eyes. He tells himself it must be some remnant side effect of living in a metal suit for so long. When he looks up, Pepper's buying none of it, and Tony allows himself a small, truthful moment, and Pepper smiles sadly, recognizing the moment for what it is.

She understands grief better than most these days.

Tony looks back down at the scrapbook as Pepper starts to take her haul of paper with Tony's seventy-three billion and twelve signatures away, and idly flips to the last page, subtly, quietly pushing the square of paper still clenched in his hand onto it.

Pepper pauses by the stairs as he starts to smooth it out, paranoia making him feel he has to shield it with one hand. She turns her head back, and looks at him sadly. "You think Stane survived that explosion, don't you?"

Tony stares at him, and nods, tightly. He shrugs helplessly, and she nods back. She understands. It's too much to think about it.

"Oh, Tony?" she calls, as he turns back to his work.

"Yes?"

"Do any of that hiding in plain sight under my roof again in the future and I will cut you," Pepper says, smiling at him, wide and sugar sweet.

"Hearing that loud and clear, ma'am," Tony tells her.

"I don't know," Pepper mutters, as she starts up the stairs, "both you and Stane doing that convoluted distractions and diversions and things in plain view all over the damned place. God forbid a scientist who does something sensible like, I don't know, cutlasses at dawn."

The rest of her words are a blur of muttering as she clacks up his stairs and out into the mansion, but Tony's gaze slides back down to the note.

It's a list. Like any number of the ones Tony pulled from the wall. This one is typed, but not so crazily; Steve's spent some time on this one.

Steve said, in the observatory — my pedantic lists might save the world someday — but if that's what he's trying to do, Tony can't figure it out.

WHY WOULD SOMEONE FAKE THEIR OWN DEATH?

Brave — for love? Self-sacrifice? Self-protection?

AVENGE - Obadiah's death? No one looks for the dead!

Insanity!

Tony— did he? :(

Tony stares at it a while; his hands flex automatically, and he pushes the list into the scrapbook and snaps it shut.

Why would Steve put that there? Obviously he realized what the paper balls were. Tony's balled-up death threats. Tony's tiny paper denials. But to type up the list, and to take such care over it... (Tony will always, always cherish the day Fury received his first — and thus far only — typed report from Captain America. According to it, iRONy Man and Mr. Marvel saved the day with Steve. Tony was chuffed; Carol was pissed.)

Tony doesn't know what's going on. He slams the book open again, and looks at the note, and then his heart clenches in fear.

Talk about hiding in plain sight.

Each letter down the left hand side spells a word.

Brave — for love? Self-sacrifice? Self-protection?

AVENGE - Obadiah's death? No one looks for the dead!

Insanity!

Tony— did he? :(

BAIT.

Tony pushes the chair back with so much force as he stands up that it breaks as it collides with the table behind him. His heart is suddenly pounding so hard that he has to steady himself on the desk in front of him, and his fingers clench around the list. Screw propriety and hiding things, it's probably already too late.

"JARVIS," Tony yells, because if it is too late, it doesn't matter if JARVIS still is corrupted. Nothing matters a damn. Steve is a raging, complete idiot, and it's all Tony's fault and he should have seen this coming.

Stane's clearly been able to see everything they've done. Everything they've always done. Stane wouldn't give a shit that Steve might appear not to feel anything for Tony beyond loathing, but he'd know for sure that Tony wasn't able to switch his feelings off so quickly.

WHY WOULD SOMEONE FAKE THEIR OWN DEATH?

That's what Steve had wondered. Tony faked his to protect the others. Stane would fake his so that he could avenge his father's death.

He would still want to hurt Tony in all the ways he could. With the Mandarin and Hammer pulling out after Stane was unable to secure them the StarkPods, and Tony having ordered Bruce to destroy Stane's childhood home (and hide-out) before SHIELD could put a guard on both of them and stop them from such activities means that Stane's resources will have been obliterated.

Stane wouldn't have access to the things he needs to blow up hundreds of civilians in Tony's name.

But he might just have access to the one thing Tony cares about most in the world.

To the one person.

"JARVIS," Tony yells, running to the door, Steve's typed list clutched in his hands, "assemble the Avengers."

"In the boardroom, sir?" JARVIS asks, and Tony tries not to be annoyed that he's lost the decent tweaks he's made to JARVIS' programming over the last twelve months.

"In the hall, in the kitchen, wherever's the best damn room to get them all there ASAP," Tony yells.

"Avengers, please assemble in the kitchen," JARVIS purrs, his voice echoing through all the internal speakers in the house.

"Thanks, JARVIS," Tony pants, and flings open the door to his workshop. He skids through the hall and into the kitchen, and the rest of the Avengers are already in the kitchen, looking pensive and worried. Tony skids to a halt, and looks at the seven frowning faces in front of him. They look back at him, expressions drawn.

"Tony," Carol says, in a small, reluctant voice.

Tony frowns at them, and freezes partway through lifting up the paper, because they look so serious. Really serious.

"What am I missing?" Tony asks, looking between them all. "Guys. Come on. What the hell am I missing?"

"It's Steve," Jan says, when Carol shrugs aimlessly. "Um, Fury called us, directly. Uh, Avengers' business, and he said you weren't technically an Avenger any more with Captain America saying you were off the team, he has prerogative to do that when an Avenger lies to the team—"

"Steve's been kidnapped," Cage says, cutting right through Jan's bumbling words.

The words reverberate in Tony's ears.

"Stane's left a message for you," Carol adds, her voice thin with stress.

"Let me guess," Tony says. "Come alone and Steve won't get hurt."

"It's funny that the bad guys always say that," Clint says. "Is there a supervillain handbook?"

"There might be an Avenger handbook too," Tony says, "because here's the damn cliché in return: I'm going."

There's instant uproar.

Tony can't quite decipher the racket, but he's pretty sure he can too long, didn't read it down to TONY, NO.

"You can't stop me," Tony says.

"Uh," Carol says, gesturing around, "you're not even in your new Iron Man suit. And between us, we got enough superpowers to ground you until such time as you have no natural teeth or hair left."

"Who," Tony says, folding his arms across his chest, "even said I was making a new Iron Man suit?"

"Uh," Jan says, "because we know you."

"Except when I wear a giant robot and pretend to be a girl, apparently," Tony says.

"Now, c'mon, that's not fair," Spider-Man says. "You were following Fury's orders. Willingly. How were we supposed to know it was you?"

"None of us wanted it to be you," Carol says, heavily. "And no, Tony. I'm not saying we wished you were dead. But if it was you, then it meant you lied to us. It meant you didn't trust us."

"You think I don't trust you." Tony says. He exhales, and shakes his head, and then shrugs. "I didn't know how far Stane's security bugs went. Pretty damn far as it turns out. My whole plan hinged on trust."

"Uh," Cage says, "not that we all don't have a tenuous relationship with the definition of certain words, but I'm not quite sure you understand what the word trust even means. You lied to your team, Stark. And that's not cool. That's not trusting us."

"I trusted you," Tony says, "to not react, if you figured it out before you were supposed to. I trusted you all and I was validated at least three times."

"Three," Logan says. "Three of us figured it out." He sounds a little putout at that. "Huh."

"I told Bruce," Tony says. "He was one."

The six others turn to look at Bruce accusingly.

"You told me really late on," Bruce says, sounding a little sulky. He quails under the attention — in Bruce's life of hiding, even one person looking at him used to make him terribly nervous — and he sends a little glare in Tony's direction. "Fine, it was right before the big fight at StarkPark. I went and blew up Stane's house while he was occupied because Tony asked me with Morse code."

"Morse code," Cage repeats. "Damn, you're geeks."

"Okay, so who else?" Carol says. "It wasn't me." She looks sadly at him. "Although, I didn't get any bad vibes from you. Just..." She looks away for a moment. "Sadness."

"I hated doing what I had to do," Tony says, and he sends her a sad smile which she returns for a moment.

"I guess I was one of the three," Clint says, putting up a hand and squinting.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jan squeals, thumping him gently in reprimand.

"Because," Clint says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I kinda figured he'd pull a stunt like this. Tony dies, in a warehouse, barely a couple of days after he missed getting flambéed in a similar sort of place? And then a metal suited person who conveniently couldn't raise their mask comes into the picture a couple of weeks later? C'mon. It was screaming Tony Stark, larger than life, so loud it might as well have been drawing in extra dollars at the IMAX."

"See," Cage says, "you've even made other people lie to us, Stark. That's pretty shitty of you."

Tony exhales in exasperation, and fidgets, because they're wasting stupid, precious time on this.

"Anyway," Clint says, twiddling his thumbs and staring at them intently so he doesn't have to look at the six accusatory faces turned in his direction, "I figured if Tony was faking his death, it was for a good reason. I trusted him. And I still do." He lifts his face to Tony's and he nods in support. "If you think you can go fight Stane and get Steve back, go for it. But if you don't think you can do it on your own, then you have to let us help."

Tony shakes his head. "It's not your fight."

"Any Avenger is threatened, it becomes our fight," Cage says, stubbornly.

"I know you all eavesdropped through the comms," Tony says. "Captain America has officially revoked me as an Avenger. As a civilian, I have every right to do this my own way, and you have no rights to interfere if the public isn't in danger." He shakes his head, and sinks down onto the stool, and drums his fingers on the table before lying his hands down flat, and looking at them all. "Guys, I have to go. And questions of trust aside, we're friends, or we used to be. Please. Don't stop me from doing this."

"And if we do stop you?" Carol asks. "And we could."

"And Steve gets hurt? Then you'll be the ones killing me. It'll just be a slower death than in a fight with Stane," Tony shrugs.

"Okay," Carol says. "Good enough for me. We'll run interference with SHIELD. I can't guarantee Fury'll leave you alone for long, but we'll hold them back as long as we can. Go."

Tony nods, and turns to go.

He can hear Jan as he's hurrying for his workshop and the new Iron Man suit.

"Hey, he said three of us figured out who you were and didn't say anything. That's Bruce and Clint, but who's the third?" she asks.

Any guesses are muffled by the distance.

The third, well, Tony doesn't know for sure.

But he's hoping he's right.

If he's right, it might mean that he's believing in the impossible, but that's kind of Tony's job.

Chapter 21

Fury, because he's totally annoying, hacks into Tony's comm line as he's approaching the co-ordinates that Stane gave him in his taunt.

He's not a total dick, though — he just tells Tony in a begrudging tone that Stane hasn't brought anyone with him, only Steve.

JARVIS brings up a zoomed-in image of the graveyard. Steve's all tied up, so it must be a Thursday, and he's been placed in a roughly-excavated spot by Tony's headstone.

It's kind of macabre to be fighting a supervillain in a graveyard, but if that's what Tony has to do, that's what he has to do.

Besides, there may be no fight necessary. Tony has an ace up his sleeve, one that might enable everyone to walk away without feeling guilty.

And if Stane rejects it, Tony doesn't think he'll have any compunction shooting Stane in the face.

Tony lands carefully, maybe thirty paces in front of Stane, who's perched on Tony's headstone, looking bored. He flips his mask back and glares at Stane. The Iron Man mark sixteen works like a dream, and it's beyond a shame that he might blow this new one to smithereens in one fight, and that's if he even survives.

"You know, you actually nearly fooled me," Stane says, without saying hello. Stane looks gaunt, and there's a nasty looking burn on his face, and half of his hair is burned clean off, but otherwise he's looking the same as ever. "I think it was the alcohol that actually convinced me you weren't faking your death. You did end up hiding at Pepper's house, right?"

Tony nods, cautiously. Steve's staying very still, sitting on an old wooden chair. Tony can't see him clearly. He starts edging closer, slowly, his movement fluid.

"I was watching her trash and her groceries," Stane says, shaking his head, not seeming to notice Tony moving closer. "I will grant you that move as clever. That and the videos, and the genetic material we pulled from my exploding warehouse. Five years of manoeuvring and scheming just to pull the wool over your own friends' eyes. I honestly didn't think you had either in you. I guess I should have known the depths you would stoop to."

Now he's closer, Tony can see that Steve's attached to a very large explosive and a lot of complicated looking wires.

"I thought a decent explosion might work on him," Stane says, without even glancing at Steve. He crackles energy over his palms melodramatically. "Blow your super soldier boyfriend to pieces. He makes such pretty bait, don't you think?" Stane kicks at Steve, who doesn't yell out, even though he isn't gagged.

"Leave him alone, Stane," Tony says. They're not particularly suave first words, but they're what he wants to say, so he doesn't linger.

"Step out of your suit completely and toss your remote suiting-up bracelets to me or I'll blow him up straightaway without even giving you the time to say goodbye," Stane says, raising what looks like a remote control and pointing it at Steve.

Steve visibly swallows. Tony sighs.

"Slowly now," Stane barks.

Tony slowly raises his hands and does the twisting gesture necessary to remove the suit completely when he's not near one of his de-suiting rigs. The suit collapses down behind him, and Tony slowly takes off the bracelets and throws them off to one side.

"Strip," Stane says.

Tony freezes in the grass. Actually, nearly literally — it's really damn cold. "Seriously?" Tony says. "I met your girl — Sasha, wasn't it? — last time you and I had a conflict. I didn't think I was your type."

Stane glares.

"Fine," Tony says. "Slowly," he adds, mimicking Stane's accent. He tosses his t-shirt to one side, and ignores how freaking cold it is and undoes his belt. That goes to one side, and he steps out of his pants. "Do I really have to take these off?" he asks, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer shorts.

"I'm supposed to take it on honor that you're not hiding anything down there?" Stane says, flatly. "Socks off, too."

Tony glares, but does what Stane says.

"You know," Stane practically purrs, "it was easy to find out that Steve here is the opening for me to get you doing whatever I want. I didn't even need all the security feed hacks. I'll admit, I missed it originally that you two were disgustingly gooey-eyed about each other. And in hindsight, since you tried to blow me up, I've seen all the evidence on my video and photo files. But I didn't need that evidence. I knew it the moment you took your helmet off, Stark. You don't fake your own death for a small reason." Stane spreads his arms, and smirks. "I faked mine so I could avenge my father's death without being plagued by you and SHIELD. You faked yours for love. It's enough to make me sick at how someone as weak as you brought down someone as great as my father."

"Your father betrayed me," Tony says, tilting his chin challengingly. He may be naked, but he's a Stark, and he wears that confidence like an armor."He was a monster."

"Right," Stane says. "I'm sure that's the story you tell. But it's not true. He made a mistake in hiring those hitmen to go after you. One measly mistake, and you took his life, and you took the company which was so rightfully mine."

"And that's partially why I'm here," Tony says, staying close. Stane's eyes are tracking him; movement might appear threatening at the moment, and Tony doesn't know yet how sensitive the explosives are that Steve is sitting on.

"You're here because I've kidnapped the love of your life and I threatened you," Stane says, shaking his head. "Y'know, it's even clearer now that my dad was the brains of the operation. Someone as stupid as you couldn't design half the clever weapons that Stark Industries used to come out with. Someone as moronic as you wouldn't end up naked in a graveyard, ready to follow my every whim."

"Okay," Tony says, "let's pretend for a moment that is all true. Before you start to play, I'd like to offer you a deal."

"I'm holding all the cards here, Stark," Stane says, forming a ball of energy in-between his fingertips and tossing it from hand to hand, like he's a bored kid with a deadly baseball. "But I do want to hear your pathetic attempt. It's funny that you think words will do anything."

"Here's the deal," Tony says, starting to pace a little. "You get the energy side of Stark Industries. It should have been Obadiah's anyway; the large arc reactor was a pet project he had with my father. SHIELD gets the other half. You get access to all the documentation from up to the point your father died, and you get 50% of all the profit in the ensuing years since his death. You still have to keep the current board members who hold 51% of the shares to make this above board legal, but you want to do that, believe me. SHIELD can't touch you if you keep legal with this. I walk away, and you rename it Stane Industries."

"So you'd give it to me in return for your lives," Stane says, rolling his eyes. "Why do I not believe this?"

"There's an addendum or two," Tony says. "Our lives, sure. Pepper still gets to do her altruistic stuff as long as it continues to give the company a tax break. And you promise to attempt to keep as much of the current staff on as possible. You do that, I walk away, no money, and nothing but my brain, exclusivity to Iron Man — which was produced on my own time — and the weapon schematics, which were always all mine. And one final thing."

"What?" Stane snaps. "My first born child?"

"You apologize to the families of the people you blew up," Tony says. "I made you fatherless in an act of self-defence. You wrecked a ton of families in an act of mindless terrorism. The least those families deserve is an apology."

"The least they deserve... They don't deserve a damn thing," Stane says. "A damn thing. Their deaths are on you. They're on you. And I won't rest until they know that. Until they know their loved ones are dead because of you. And I'll tell them how I blew you apart in revenge. They'll like it. You'll see. I'll kill you and make you into a martyr and then I'll take all of Stark Industries for myself."

"Ah," Steve says, startling them both into looking at him, "I hoped Tony was going to give you a chance to redeem yourself. I had hoped you might take it. I wipe my hands of what's going to happen to you now."

"Ugh," Stane says, wheeling on his heel and pinning Steve with a disgusted look. "You were doing so well, am I going to have to gag you again?"

"I suppose you could," Steve says, amicably, "but as you're probably going to be fighting both Tony and I, you're going to need your strength for that."

"Uh," Stane says, "I can blow you sky high any moment." He waves his hands at the pile of explosives under Steve's chair. "Does that ring any sort of bell for you?"

Steve actually laughs. "Sure, you could do that," Steve says, "but you kinda missed something that was directly in plain sight. Wait, that is the game you science guys play, right? It's hard to keep up." Steve detaches another wire, and rubs at his arms. "Tony, I have no idea how you put up with Steel Corpse's restrictions for so long. I've been tied up for six hours now and it's pretty wearing."

"Um," Tony says, "who are you and what have you done with Captain America?"

"Wait," Stane says, "this is a shapeshifter? No way. I've been watching you constantly, there's no way in hell—"

"Oh, I'm not a shapeshifter," Steve says, "but I'm also not normally this big. You know that right? You said it yourself; you've been looking at photo and video footage of me. Surely you can see my suit's a little larger than it used to be." Steve smiles ambiguously as Stane stares at him, and Tony finds himself looking at Steve too.

Steve's right. He is looking more muscular. But what does that mean? Even if Steve's been working out more, muscles — even super-enhanced ones — can't exactly stop bullets.

"While we were blowing up your first weapons cache," Steve says, "I stole some of the explosives. I've been slowly stitching them into my suit, probably when you've been assuming I've been sobbing under the sheets, actually. It's a terrible amount of explosives. If the ones I'm sat on go off, it would set off a chain reaction — the whole graveyard would blow. I know you want Tony dead and in an ideal world, me dying in front of him, but I don't really think you'd risk yourself to do that."

Tony goes cold. He had been so absorbed rigging up the explosives that he hadn't watched Steve. It's possible. It's insane. But Steve has a look on his face that suggests insanity isn't exactly a big leap.

"You're bluffing," Stane says, his eyes wide as he stares at Steve. "You are bluffing."

"Y'know," Steve says, still in the same annoyingly amiable tone. "That's how my plan succeeded. Captain America doesn't lie. Everyone knows that I'm honest."

"What, are you saying you lied? Captain, you haven't said much to me about anything since I caught you," Stane says. "You can't lie if you don't say anything."

"Tony kind of explained it himself. You've seen the tapes now, Stane. You heard him loud and clear." Steve stands up, but stays near the explosives. "You're too honest, Steve," Steve says, in a whiny exaggerated voice which does, admittedly, kind of sound like Tony. "Too straightforward. You could never be an asshole to get what you want."

Stane frowns. "What does that have to do with anything—"

"Thing is," Steve says, "you already know what it is that I want. Everyone knows what I want. I want Tony. And for him, I'd be an asshole to anyone in the world. Even to him, if I had to be." Steve looks across at Tony then, and Tony almost rocks with the intensity of that look.

The altercation in the forest.

It was all a lie.

Steve was being an asshole deliberately.

Steve wasn't just being angry because he was angry.

He'd lied for the same reason as Tony lied.

Tony could almost cry with relief.

"And you believed my performance," Steve says to Stane, "because Tony believed it. And he only believed it because he's an insecure idiot who's been betrayed by too many people in his life. And that includes your father, Zeke."

"You're both crazy," Stane says. "I'm the most powerful person either of you have ever seen. I'm the only one who's going to be walking out of this graveyard."

"Well, you see, there's the thing," Steve says. "Walking... I don't know."

"Okay," Stane says, "let's say I want to indulge your crazy. I'm a scientist. I like to go into things with facts. Explain to me why you think I won't be walking out of here."

"It's because you were clever," Steve says.

Tony blinks. Clever isn't usually an insult to people like Stane.

"Because I was clever," Stane starts, obviously just as confused as Tony.

"You knew we would be monitoring the takeaways and grocery shops in the area for abnormal orders," Steve says. "You knew I tried to get SHIELD to monitor the StarkBars, and they turned me down."

"Oh, oh, I know this one," Tony says. "Government can't interfere with altruistic capital exports." Steve side-eyes him. "What, I do read some of the memos Pepper sends. It's how I got so clever in the first place," Tony adds, for Stane's benefit. "Reading things."

"Did you think it was melodramatic justice? That Tony's company's StarkBars kept you alive? I bet you did." Steve hums, sounding oddly contented, considering he's still sitting on explosives. "You watched me, Zeke. You've seen what I did. I didn't hide. I did a lot of things after I threw that fit at Tony. Mostly I stomped around and killed some innocent punch bags, but I did try to be helpful. And then Pepper Potts needed some help on her StarkBar project."

"Yeah," Stane mutters, shuffling. "I saw you. You were basically an office boy. It was kind of hilarious, but I prefer Tony's expression now. It's much better than watching you fetch her coffee and do her typing."

"Oh," Tony says. He pulls a face. "Uh-oh."

"Yeah," Steve says, pulling a ridiculous face in return, a comically wide-eyed, apologetic expression. "She really shouldn't have let me type out the nutritional information for the StarkBars. I do type like a crazy person."

"What do you mean?" Stane barks. "I— I've been eating those, after someone," he glares at Tony, "took out my proper food." He turns to Steve. "You wouldn't do anything. You're Captain America. Those bars are going out to Africa to feed poor, starving orphans. You wouldn't do anything to them. You might have lied to cover up for Stark here, but you wouldn't sabotage them, and you can't bluff about that. They're safe — I had a lab check out the ingredients. They were what they said on the packet, in the ratio the packet said."

"Yeah, they were," Steve says. "But, I kinda mistyped one of the numbers. It's a shame, I'll have to talk to Pepper later to fix that."

"You won't get a later," Stane snarls.

"I'm not so sure," Steve says, still in an annoying amiable tone. "The number I got wrong was the calorie information. They're actually only 400 calories a bar. I accidentally mistyped them at 500. That's not too bad a difference. Unless, of course, you're trying to ingest 20,000 calories a day to keep up enough energy for your little hand power blasts. In which case, carry the zero, multiply that by four... You've only been ingesting 16,000 calories a day. Which makes you weaker than you think you are, Ezekiel, by a good 4,000 calories. Which, by my calculations, considering the energy you will have needed to heal yourself after the explosion gives you about three more good hand blasts today before your power gives out." Steve winces. "Sorry about that. Except, y'know, I'm not."

"You're completely bluffing," Stane says, and his tone goes lower, angrier, "you're completely bluffing," he repeats, and then brings up his hand, and Tony has about half a second warning — Tony makes a dive out of the way.

A big, naked dive. In a graveyard. To behind a gravestone.

There are certain levels in one's life that one can sink to with dignity, and then there's ones which are hopeless to the dignity cause, and this is definitely one of the latter cases.

"Three more hand blasts," Stane says, charging up another bolt towards Tony, clearly avoiding Steve just in case that bluff isn't true. And now Tony thinks about it, Steve's uniform does look a bit bulked out. "I feel completely normal. I'm going to enjoy killing you both."

Stane's next blast takes a substantial chunk out of the gravestone Tony dived behind, and Tony's only half covered by the next one when Stane's third blast drives into it, and Tony's knocked to the ground, covered in flaming chunks of gravestone, and for a second Tony actually thinks this is it, I'm dying naked in a graveyard.

Except, Stane raises his hand, and it turns out Steve's completely right.

An energy bolt sputters out, but doesn't have enough power to reach Tony.

Stane flails for only a second, before diving for one of the contraptions hanging from his belt which presumably have more usual power sources than food, but the second — brief as it is — is too long. Steve bodily tackles him from behind, knocking them both to the ground, and Stane's head connects hard with a gravestone, stunning him.

Stane tries to punch Steve, but it's like trying to punch a cinder block.

Impossible, unless you are Captain America. Or maybe the Hulk. Or maybe Thor. And one day, Tony's train of thoughts won't go to wacky destinations while the love of his life is locked in combat with one of his mortal enemies.

Tony lurches to his feet, and scrambles over one of the half-shattered gravestones to where he threw his bracelets. He staggers over to Stane, and locks them onto Stane's wrists, knocking the remote control out of Stane's grasp as he does so.

"Oh," Tony says, "they're not my suiting-up bracelets." He grins at Steve. "They're energy-restraint bracelets like we used on X-Ray. I switched them out thinking Stane would think I'd want to call the Iron Man suit to me. Why would I, when I can fight him completely naked?"

Steve pulls back and helps yank a now restrained-by-the-wrists Stane into a sitting position. Tony helps hold him down as Steve grabs enough of the wires to tie Stane up, and Tony methodically strips Stane of anything that might be a weapon before they both, in silent agreement to melodrama, tie Stane to Tony's headstone.

Stane starts to yell, incoherent death threats, but Steve gags him with Tony's abandoned t-shirt, and glares at Tony, like he's daring him to argue with him.

Steve straightens, and walks around the gravestone so a struggling Stane is facing the other way, and he walks over to Tony. He doesn't say anything, he just looks at him gravely, but then he lifts a hand, and pushes hair away from Tony's forehead.

Tony, in return, makes an embarrassing sound of relief that he will deny later, and throws himself into Steve's arms. If he sobs a little, Steve never tells anyone.

Especially as there's pretty undeniable tears in his eyes, too.

For a moment, there are no words, until Steve's fingers drift along Tony's shoulder, and Steve says, under his breath, like he's not even aware he's saying it, "Look at what that suit did to you."

Steve's vocal tone is a combination of horror and kindness. It's enough to give Tony hope that this moment of reconciliation isn't going to be a repeat of their heart-breaking conversation in the woods.

"How did you know?" Tony asks, quietly. "When did you know it was me?"

"Not for a while," Steve says, his arms tightening around Tony's back. Tony melts into the warmth of the embrace automatically; now's not the time to be restrained. Not when it feels like Steve could still disappear, any moment. "I had an inkling during your first fight with the Avengers, when Ironclad knocked you down. You were tackled from the left. You do favor your right flank. After that, I had suspicions. I knew for sure when I uncovered X-Ray. Tony Stark doesn't stop moving. And you fidgeted like hell."

"I don't forgive liars," Tony says, repeating Steve's words from then.

"After that, I knew it was likely we would confront Stane. And I knew it was likely he would think to fake his death too," Steve says. "So that's why I said that. To plant the seed of doubt in your head. So that when Stane saw me reject you for being a liar, he would believe it, and you would believe it. Your reaction had to be genuine. He had to believe I had a genuine reason for stalking off on my own."

"Leaving you as bait," Tony says, remembering the list and its acronym.

"And I knew you would have to forgive me for it," Steve says, "because you did it first, and worse."

Tony finds it hard to swallow, but he forces it through so he can speak. "I don't regret what I did," Tony says, shakily. "And I'd do it again. The idea of him hurting you, it was killing me."

"Same," Steve says, simply. There's silence for a long moment.

"This," Tony mutters, because changing the subject is something he can always do, "is not how I pictured our first naked embrace."

"Speak for yourself," Steve says, "I'm still fully clothed."

Tony pulls back a little, but stays in the reassuring circle of Steve's arms. "Your uniform does look bigger than usual. Did you really stitch explosives into it?"

Steve looks innocent for a moment, and then shakes his head, looking a little dazed with relief and happiness. "No," Steve admits. "I've been smuggling teabags to stitch into the lining so I could pull that bluff off."

"Teabags," Tony repeats, remembering their cabinets back in the mansion full of the stuff. "I don't suppose you smuggled some sort of communicator into your uniform so we can let SHIELD know this is all over and go home? That is," Tony adds, suddenly worried, "unless it's all a bluff and you really are irredeemably pissed off with me, in which case, I really want to put my pants back on right now."

Steve looks at him, low and steady. "I am hurt that you didn't tell me," he says, in a quiet and truthful voice. "I'm so hurt at that. It's going to take a lot of work to fix, you and I. But I'm rolling with the idea that we're worth it."

"I did try and tell you," Tony mutters. "I didn't try hard enough. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You didn't really trust me to let you go through with it." Steve shrugs, like he's pretending not to care, but that's not him. Steve always cares. It's whether he wants to care or not that's the problem. "It's okay."

"It's not," Tony mutters, turning into Steve's palm, pushing a kiss into the skin there. He takes a moment to revel in the feeling he thought he would never have again.

"I knew you wouldn't fake your death if it wasn't entirely necessary," Steve says, shrugging. "I knew you wouldn't hurt us like that if you didn't have to. Hurt me," he corrects.

"Yeah?" Tony says, shuffling closer into Steve's personal space, nudging Steve's hip with his own. Steve tracks the movement, and a dull flush covers his cheek. Oh, yeah. Tony's naked. It's a good thing it's freezing cold; if SHIELD do drop in on them, Tony doesn't exactly want to give them a show. "How did you know?"

Steve smiles at him, eyes wet with emotion. "Because of what you said during our night together."

Tony's head whips up, stunned. He can't help the flood of heat to his cheeks. He doesn't remember saying anything in particular that might make Steve trust him so implicitly. He knows what he might have said, though.

Steve confirms that thought by leaning in, pressing a warm open mouthed kiss to his neck that makes him tremble, and murmuring, warm and confidently, "I love you too."

Oh.

So that is what he said.

Tony can't help it. He's naked, and his enemy is tied to Tony's own gravestone, mere meters away, and it's freezing cold, but Steve's here and Steve doesn't hate him and Steve loves him. He reaches up and kisses Steve desperately, like if he moves in the right way, maybe they can merge together and Tony never has to be without him again.

He kind of likes that idea.

He has to stop kissing Steve, though. However hard it is.

"I said that?" Tony says, moving his head away from Steve's mouth. "Because I think I said I glove you."

"You glove me," Steve murmurs, chasing him back, brushing a kiss against Tony's jawline that makes him tremble again. "I thought that was called fisting."

"The pottymouth on Captain America," Tony says, pretending to be outraged. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Steve."

"Oh, I plan to do several deep and dirty things to you. They may very well be shameful."

Tony warms from his words, and his mouth feels oddly dry. He doesn't quite know what to do with himself now he's alive and free, and he decides he quite likes that feeling. He definitely likes how it feels to be in love with Captain America. To have Steve return that love.

"Hmm," Tony says, happily, "I think I can live with that."

Steve looks at him askance. "You'd better," he says, meaningfully.

Tony squints. "Too soon for jokes about it?"

Steve gives him another hacky look.

"Fine," Tony says, and tugs at Steve's tea-filled uniform. "You could probably shut me up creatively, though."

"Oh, god," Stane whines, having apparently managed to spit out his gag, "shoot me now."

"I don't think so, Stane," Steve says, in his very best Captain America tone. "I think we'll be shipping you off to prison for the rest of your life, so you can think about all the people you killed."

Stane makes a strangled sound, and then starts borrowing from the supervillain handbook that really must do the rounds at supervillain Christmas parties or something, because he starts muttering about death threats and how Tony will live to regret his vile acts, and Steve goes to gag him again while Tony goes searching for his pants.

It's not the end Tony imagined to all of this. In fact, he's still pretty stunned that he's not a smear on the wall of some random warehouse. He never dared imagine a future like this, where he gets to be with Steve. Steve, who doesn't hate him. Steve, who loves him back.

"Hey," Steve murmurs, "that might be SHIELD now, sending the cavalry."

Tony settles back into Steve's arms, and looks up into the sky. The stars are bright, and he thinks he can see the light of the Avengers' quinjet heading their way, but he closes his eyes until the light's nothing more than an illusion against his eyelids, and he focuses on what's definitely real: Steve, in his arms. There. Alive. His.

In the end, nothing is an illusion, and everything is real.