Avengers 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Set some time after the movie, and I'm not quite sure how many chapters it's likely to be. We'll see. **

**A/N2: For InSilva, because she asked for Avengers fic.  
**

* * *

People tended to yell at you a lot when you were dying, Tony had found. At least this time around the shouts seemed more concerned than angry. Except Fury. He sounded like dying was something Tony had come up with just to piss him off. To be honest, if he'd known he could get that kind of reaction, he might just have thought about trying it.

His leg was on fire. He thought it was his leg anyway, though right now it didn't feel like a leg. Just felt like everything below his waist had vanished, leaving only a raw mass of pain behind.

Everything below his waist? Worriedly, he tried to raise his head, and was stopped immediately, strong hands pushing him down.

"Tony, stay still," Steve ordered, his voice a bellow and Tony winced as the pain arced through his head. It was everywhere, he dimly realised. Everything hurt and the world was darker than it maybe should be. Was he still wearing his helmet? He couldn't tell...

"Stark, open your goddamned eyes," Natasha shouted, and somewhere above him the Hulk roared.

"The med evac team is ten klicks away," Clint announced, and Thor cursed with a variety of Asgardian words that Tony had mostly only ever heard him use about Loki.

Well, well, the gang was all here. And Fury was on the helicarrier, yelling at him through the headset. He was oddly proud of himself for working that out.

"We have to..." Steve was saying something, but his hearing was fading in and out, and the next thing there was a tidal wave of pain, and everything vanished beneath a blanket of white.

* * *

He was in the infirmary on the helicarrier. He could tell by the smell, and maybe that was something he should be worried about. Right now, though, above the hospital smell, everything smelled like blood. And that was definitely something he should be worried about.

It still hurt, but the hurt was different now. Drugs, or something, had taken the edge of the pain off. Enough for him to realise that it was his right leg and shoulder, his chest and head that were hurting the most.

He opened his eyes fractionally and looked around the crowded room. Looked like everyone was here and whole. Whatever had happened, it had happened to him, and that was both a relief and a source of irritation.

He couldn't focus properly, but he managed to fix on Bruce, who was thankfully looking a lot less green than earlier. The Hulk wasn't allowed to do hospital visiting anymore. Not after the time with Steve and the balloons, which totally wasn't his fault, no matter what the nurses said.

"Did you step on me?" he croaked at Bruce. "Because it feels sort of like you stepped on me."

Silently, Bruce shook his head.

He couldn't move. He couldn't even twitch his fingers, and he thought he was still wearing his armour. Why was he still wearing his armour? It was too heavy. He should...he couldn't remember.

"Forget the transfusion, we need to get him into surgery _now,_" a new voice said insistently.

Surgery? He reacted with sluggish alarm. He didn't like surgery. Pain. Car batteries. He had to get out of here before they got started. But his body wouldn't respond.

He looked beseechingly up at his fellow Avengers. "Please...don't let them..."

"Rest easy, my friend. I vow we will not let any harm befall you," Thor promised.

His eyes flickered across to Steve. He could feel himself fading. "Pepper..." he said softly, and Steve nodded.

"She's already on her way," he said. "Agent Hill called her."

There was going to be more yelling. He might even make her cry again. He hated making her cry.

"Then make sure she doesn't have any reason to," Steve said, sounding suspiciously choked himself.

He tried to smirk, but he was too tired and too weak to even keep his eyes open.

As he fell into unconsciousness, he heard something beeping frantically.

* * *

It was still beeping the next time he woke up, but it sounded less desperate. Plus, he was able to turn his head, and he wasn't wearing his armour anymore.

Someone was holding his hand, and when he looked he was relieved to see it was Pepper. Anyone else, and it might have got awkward.

He tried to speak, but he realised that there was a tube stuck down his throat. He reached up, trying to remove it, but Pepper grabbed his hand.

"Tony!" she exclaimed, and she sounded half hysterical with relief. She _had _been crying. How long had he been out? "The doctor said you'll need that in for at least a few days. You weren't supposed to wake up yet."

He tried to smile to suggest that he never did what he was supposed to, but from the look on Pepper's face, it didn't have quite the effect he was looking for.

"I'll call the doctor," Pepper said, reaching over and pressing a button next to his head.

Gradually, he looked down the bed and realised that his legs were encased in solid slabs of plaster right up his thighs, a host of metal pins and clamps visible.

This didn't look good...

He stared, wide eyed, and the beeping grew louder and faster. Well, that was fantastic. Nothing like being able to monitor your own panic.

He looked up at Pepper, and she bit her lip. "It's not...you'd better wait and talk to the doctor."

Fear gripped him. That didn't sound good. And the look on the doctor's face when he came in didn't exactly reassure him either.

Oh, Tony, how have you managed to mess yourself up this time?

* * *

By the time the doctor had finished talking, Tony was glad of the tube. It meant that no one was expecting him to talk, he could just nod to signal that he'd understood what they were telling him.

His legs were crushed. So far he'd spent nineteen hours in surgery while they dug bits of his armour out of his bones. On top of that, there was spinal damage. Internal injuries. Broken ribs. His right shoulder was dislocated. Apparently he was lucky to be alive at all, but right now he didn't feel very lucky.

The doctor had tried to put the most positive spin on his prognosis that he could, and it still sounded grimmer than Tony would have ever imagined. There was a chance he would walk again. _Maybe._ But it would be months of surgery and PT before they could tell him for definite. It would be at least three months before he could use the bathroom by himself. And if everything went their way, if he made the miraculous recovery they were hoping for, even with all the medical technology and techniques SHIELD and Stark enterprises could develop, borrow or steal, it would be at least eighteen months before he'd be fit enough to get back in the suit.

Eighteen months and a miracle and Tony had never believed in miracles.

Not walking again. Not doing _anything _again. No more Iron Man. No more life.

He waited until Pepper walked the doctor to the door then quickly grabbing his phone from the table beside the bed, he clumsily tapped in the three digit code and Jarvis shut the room down immediately. One of many protocols he'd worked out which he could do blind and one handed if need be. And he'd told himself at the time – he'd told Jarvis at the time – that it was just security, but really it was for this. For a time when he needed to be alone and no one was going to let him.

Right now he felt like he might cry. And no one got to see him cry. Not even Pepper.

There were people hammering on the door, no doubt having found that their security codes suddenly weren't working. He could hear Pepper's voice, angry and pleading with him.

He sighed and looked resolutely away, wincing as even the slightest movement shot bolts of pain running through him.

The pain wouldn't be going away any time soon either, he realised with a shudder. Chronic pain, permanently crippled...frankly the prospect terrified him.

Blindly he gazed straight up ahead of him, fighting for composure. "Better get used to staring at the ceiling, Stark," he told himself. "Because this could be it for you."

There was a loud crash and he jerked, instinctively trying to sit up, convulsing with pain as the world tilted alarmingly.

When his vision cleared, Pepper was back beside him, holding his hand anxiously. Steve and Thor stood behind her, Thor awkwardly holding the door. So much for SHIELD security.

"Sorry," Thor said. "We were just returning and heard that you had woken up."

They must have just returned from a mission. That was the only time Steve's uniform was less than pristine.

Tony wasn't going to be going on any more missions.

"Courage," Thor said encouragingly, laying the door against the wall. "It is not as dark as all that."

Thor was probably lucky Tony couldn't speak right now.

"You can't lock the doctors out," Steve warned him, gesturing to the stressed looking doctor fussing around the IV.

Actually, Tony was pretty sure that he _had_ locked them out, and he absolutely could do it again if he had to.

"You're hurt, Tony. Let them help you. Please." Pepper's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and he turned his head painfully to look at her. Her eyes were bright with the tears she was holding back. This was her worst nightmare. Everything he'd promised wouldn't happen. He managed to squeeze her hand reassuringly, trying to say sorry.

"You're not going through this alone," Steve said sincerely, placing a hand lightly on his uninjured shoulder. "We're all behind you."

He wasn't alone? Right. Inside he was laughing. They'd see how long that lasted.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, it's much appreciated! Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Damnit, it wasn't supposed to be Stark that got hurt, Natasha thought savagely. Him, Hulk, Thor...they were supposed to be practically invulnerable. Stark had all that armour. What was the point if it didn't protect him? Worse, Stark was a civilian at heart. He was a billionaire. He should be off driving fast cars, running his company, partying with movie stars...he shouldn't be trading punches with aliens and giant robots, no matter how good at it he was.

She'd made report after report, talking until her throat was hoarse, going over every detail of the Leighton Springs incident, as they were calling it now. Director Fury and Agent Hill had wanted more and more information, asking questions that she just didn't know the answer to. That was understandable, she supposed. They wanted to understand what had happened. How Stark had come to get reduced to so much hamburger paste.

Trouble was, there weren't so many answers to give. The whole fight was on the news, courtesy of some jerk in a weather chopper, and even having watched it a hundred times, she wasn't so sure what they could have done differently.

Somehow, it made it worse to think that there were no lessons to be learned here.

Free for the moment, she drifted purposefully down to the infirmary and found herself staring at an empty room.

"They took him back into surgery," a voice said from behind her, and she turned to see Bruce standing there laden down with a pile of monitors.

"I thought that was tomorrow," she said, frowning. She knew that Stark had more surgery scheduled, and she didn't like the idea they were changing the plan. It didn't sound like a good sign.

Bruce shrugged. "From what Pepper told me, the doc said that if they put this operation forwards, they could start on some new drug therapy tomorrow and get him ready for the next lot of surgeries sooner."

She nodded uneasily. "Have you seen the others?" she asked. If she wasn't able to visit Stark, she might as well go and join in everyone's favourite past time these days; sitting in silence and staring at the walls.

"The last I saw, Thor and Cap were heading to the gym," Bruce told her. "Something about sparring...I think they were just planning on smacking the crap out of each other and calling it stress relief."

To be honest, Natasha could see the appeal. "It's difficult, not being able to do anything," she said quietly. None of them were exactly suited to sitting around and waiting for news. "How about Clint?"

"I haven't seen him," Bruce said, shifting slightly. "You mind giving me a hand with these?"

"Of course," she said, stepping forwards and taking two of the screens away from him. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Figured I'd get some screens set up on the ceiling above the bed there," he explained, walking over and staring up thoughtfully. "I thought Tony might appreciate having something to do."

The last she'd heard, Stark was still unconscious twenty three hours a day. But she could understand the thought. "The last thing any of us need is Tony Stark getting bored," she commented, laying the monitors down on the table.

"Yeah," Bruce said with a sad smile. "Remember when he - "

" - don't," she interrupted harshly.

Blinking, he just looked at her .

"Don't eulogise him," she elaborated. "Stark's one stubborn son of a bitch. He's going to be flying around, annoying the hell out of me before you know it."

"Right," Bruce agreed quietly, just a little too late.

The truth was, she didn't believe it either. She sighed. "You know something? I never thought it would end like this."

"You think this will be the end the Avengers ?" Bruce asked slowly.

Honestly, she didn't know. The Avengers had always been the six of them. Going on without Stark? It sounded...difficult. She looked away. "Tony will recover," she said with more optimism than faith. "Come on. I'll help you get these screens set up. Wouldn't want Stark to go too long without his porn."

* * *

Thor did not like spending time in hospitals. Not back on Asgard and not here either. Seeing his friends and comrades lying injured always made him feel like he had failed.

This was no exception. Tony Stark was badly injured and Thor felt...helpless. Small. _Scared. _ It was not a sensation he cared for.

He had rejoiced when they'd realised that Tony was alive and would likely remain so, and even though he had seen the extent of the man's injuries, he had not truly understood that they were life changing.

It was difficult to imagine a man like Tony Stark might be bed ridden for the rest of his life. Pepper Potts had asked him whether there was any Asgardian technology that might help. It had shamed him to have to confess that he genuinely was not certain, but without the Bifrost or the Tesseract it was a largely futile question. He could not get to Asgard in order to interrogate their healers.

It haunted him that perhaps there was a way to help his friend that should be within his grasp.

"You going to visit Tony?" Clint asked, jogging up to him.

"Yes," he answered.

Clint nodded. "Yeah, try using the door handle this time."

Thor glowered. "That was necessary," he insisted. When he and Steve had got there, Pepper and a group of doctors had been standing outside the door, desperately trying to get back in. His heart had been in his mouth, afraid that something worse had happened, and Pepper had turned and looked at them with desperation in her eyes. Thor had looked at Steve Rogers, and at Steve's nod they'd wrenched the door away.

He had a suspicion that at some point someone was going to make him pay for it. Clint had explained to him – in S.H.I.E.L.D, even the maintenance department were badass. He still was not exactly sure why that was a compliment.

At any rate, he made a point of looking at Clint before he exaggeratedly laid his hand on the handle and gently pushed the door open.

Pepper looked up at them and smiled, deep dark shadows beneath her eyes. She looked like a woman who had been living somewhere beyond the limits of her endurance for many days, and Thor was suddenly gripped with a desperate need to call Jane.

She didn't say anything. At this stage, there wasn't anything to say.

Tony lay on his back, his eyes closed, his face pale as ice.

"Hello," Thor said awkwardly, sounding ridiculous to his own ears. "Is there any news?" he asked Pepper.

She shook her head quickly. "Nothing new," she said with a twist of a smile. "There's a neurosurgery consultation scheduled this evening. Dr Strange was talking about another MRI..." She shook her head. "None of them are saying anything new."

Thor nodded. Somewhere inside, he was still hoping that this would all turn out to be some trick, or illusion. Some lie their enemies had created. Something they could _fight _against. "How are you?" he asked softly.

"I'm bearing up just fine," she said with a patently false brightness, as if she had answered that question a hundred times too often.

He squeezed her shoulder gently. "If there is anything I can do..." he offered, and he didn't even know what that might be. He just knew that he meant _anything._

"He's awake," Clint commented suddenly, and Thor looked around quickly. There was no apparent change in Tony's face.

"Are you sure?" he asked stupidly, because of course Clint was sure. By the nature of his calling, Clint was adept at reading the most subtle of signs.

Pepper didn't look surprised. "He's been awake a few times," she said, her voice cracking. "I can tell. I can tell when he's faking sleeping through board meetings, I can still tell now. But he just won't _talk _to me." She broke off into miserable, lonely sobs, and uncomfortably, but instinctively, Thor put his arms around her, and comforted her as best he could.

Tony never even opened his eyes.

* * *

It was late and Steve couldn't sleep, and that was hardly unusual over the past couple of weeks.

He had the routine down just fine now. He'd stare fixedly at his book for a couple of hours as the words danced in front of his eyes, then he'd get up and wander the corridors of the helicarrier, scaring the life out of the night crew, and after an hour or so of that, he'd find himself in the infirmary, fetching Pepper coffee and watching Tony sleep, or pretend to sleep at least. Then, as dawn was breaking, he'd head back to his room, collapse on the bed, fall asleep for an hour or so and wake up exhausted, knowing that the next night he'd be doing the same thing all over again.

Back when he was a kid, whenever he couldn't sleep, he'd go split a soda with Bucky. Later it would be a beer, whether it had any effect or not. Nowadays, if he wandered the tower at night, he'd find Tony. Drinking in the kitchen with Clint, or down in his lab, working on something that Steve didn't have a hope of understanding.

Even now, it was difficult to believe that Tony wouldn't be downstairs, just sitting up and waiting for him. But then again, sometimes he found it difficult to remember that he couldn't go grab a beer with Bucky anymore.

Whatever Tony said, _he _was a soldier. He expected losses. That didn't make it any easier to bear.

He sighed and stood up and headed out. If nothing else, he could at least try and exhaust himself.

The nurses stationed in the infirmary didn't even give him a second glance when he got downstairs. That was one advantage of being on the helicarrier, rather than a regular hospital, he supposed. People here were used to them.

To his surprise, Tony was awake when he opened the door, weakly raising a hand to his lips without looking round.

Quiet. He spied Pepper curled up on a chair in the corner. Right.

On some level, it always surprised him that out of all of them it was Tony who had a serious girlfriend. He played the part of the billionaire playboy perfectly, and from what Steve understood, up until recently he'd lived it, but in spite of a staggering number of offers, he made it clear that Pepper was the only woman for him.

Steve envied him a little. Every time he thought of Peggy.

Oh, Thor had Jane, but that seemed to be permanently stuck in some long distance, early days complication that Steve didn't pretend to understand. He just listened and commiserated, and joined with Bruce in advising what flowers and chocolates and gifts Thor should get her. The one time Thor had asked _Tony _for advice, Tony had smiled and said that while he could tell them how to get any girl in the world to fall into bed with them, it had taken him well over a decade to get the woman he loved to consider dating him, and did any of them really want to follow that example? They really, really hadn't.

And sometimes, Steve thought that there might be something going on between Natasha and Clint. He'd noticed a few glances. A couple of secret smiles. But then sometimes he was convinced he was imagining it.

At any rate, really, Tony was the only one who had someone waiting up at home, worrying about him.

That just made it all the worse.

He pulled another chair over beside the bed. "How did you know I was here?" he asked.

In response, Tony pointed up at the ceiling. There were a few screens up there, positioned where Tony could easily see them from his bed. One of them showed the security feed from all the surrounding corridors.

"Fury know you've hacked into his system?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Tony said tiredly. "He's giving me a pass."

Right now, Tony could probably hijack the helicarrier and fly them all to Timbuktu and Fury would give him a pass. Not that Steve was exactly in a hurry to give him any ideas.

His attention was caught by the video on the other screen. He swallowed hard, troubled. "Tony - "

" - quiet, it's getting to the good part," Tony said, still not looking round.

The footage from the chopper over Leighton Springs. The giant mech – Tony had given some complicated reason why it wasn't actually a giant robot, but Steve still wasn't exactly sure he understood – stood in the middle of campus, forty foot high at least. Thor, Hulk and Iron Man were attacking it, but they looked like ants attacking an elephant. Hawkeye was shooting arrows from a building off to the side, Steve knew, but he was out of shot. It wasn't like the arrows had done anything. Armour piercing, explosive...every little trick in Clint's quiver had simply bounced right off.

He and Natasha had been off trying to track down and disable the cybernetic link.

They hadn't been quick enough.

As he watched, the mech struck out at Thor, sending him smashing into a wall, and he sat up sluggishly, clearly dazed, and Steve winced to see the blood as the mech prepared a follow up strike.

The blow never landed. Iron Man flew between Thor and the mech, and the thing hit him instead. Then, instead of retreating back out of reach, Iron Man darted forwards.

Steve remembered why. Remembered Tony's voice saying that he thought he could see a weak spot. The terrible thing was, even on this shaky footage, he could see what Tony was talking about. A bundle of exposed cables between armour panels. It looked...promising. The fight had been going against them. He would have done the exact same thing.

Only when Tony tore the cables out, somehow it just made the mech, or whoever was controlling it, mad. It knocked Iron Man out of the sky and stamped on him. Then it stamped on him again. And again. And again, and Steve could see the cracks spreading on the ground beneath its foot.

He hadn't seen this at the time. He just remembered hearing Clint's cry of helpless rage, his blood turning to ice.

The mech raised its leg, not caring that its enemy was down and wouldn't be getting up again, and that was when Thor and Hulk, working in perfect synch, threw themselves on the thing, tackling it and throwing it backwards.

"Stop," Tony said abruptly. "Jarvis, rewind to 3:46."

The AI's voice seemed to come from all around them. "Sir, I really must suggest - "

" - I didn't program you to argue with me," Tony said curtly.

"That is precisely what you did program me for," Jarvis said, and Steve would never get used to how _human _the thing sounded. Right now it sounded...worried.

But it played the footage back to the point where Tony had spotted the cables.

"I should have known better," he said quietly. "Look at that, will you? It's so...obvious. If something is vital, you protect it. Did I really think I'm the only person who knows that? I'm an idiot."

"We were losing," Steve said quietly. "You saw a chance and you took it."

"And look where it got me," Tony said darkly.

"You're going to get through this, Tony," he said determinedly. "_We're _going to get through this."

"I'm crippled. How are _we _going to get through that?" Tony demanded bitterly.

He hesitated. "A friend of mine once told me that there's always a way out," he said, looking Tony straight in the eye.

Tony swallowed hard. "I'm scared. I _hate _being scared."

"Sometimes it's okay," he said. Sometimes fear was the only possible reaction. "Don't let it control you."

No one had ever accused Tony of being slow on the uptake. "You mean stop hiding."

"You don't stop avoiding us, Barton is going to carry on stealing your pudding," Steve warned.

Tony laughed slightly. "Making bad jokes at insensitive times? I thought that was my thing."

"Apparently you're contagious," he said solemnly. "I caught Maria Hill making fun of Fury the other day."

"Did he make her walk the plank?" Tony asked sleepily.

Steve smiled. "No," he said, and he told the whole story and watched Tony drift off to sleep.

"Thank you, Captain," Jarvis said once he had finished.

"Ah, you're welcome," he said, caught off guard.

Maybe now he could get some sleep himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm really sorry this took so long. All I can say is...never move house. Seriously. **

* * *

"It might not be a very palatable truth, but we have to accept that this was inevitable," Senator Boynton declared, leaning forwards and fixing the interviewer with a steely-eyed stare. "Mr Stark's so called 'Iron Man' was always an accident waiting to happen, and I think we should all thank God that Stark himself was the only one hurt on this occasion."

"And of course we wish Mr Stark a speedy recovery," the interviewer interrupted, with the look of a woman who could see lawyers dancing in front of her eyes.

"Of course," Senator Boynton agreed uncomfortably, before steaming on. "What training has Stark had? Advanced combat, supersonic flight, basic tactical thinking….no! He has nothing like that. And we're surprised that he made a mistake in battle?" He snorted and leaned forwards, his hands clasped together. "The guys who put together the space shuttle aren't the one we sent to the moon. I'm not taking anything away from Tony Stark here – the technology is remarkable, which is why it needs to be in the right hands, experienced military hands."

"Tony Stark did develop the Iron Man technology himself," the interviewer pointed out. "It could be that no one else knows it as well."

"Well, Stark 'developed' the technology while he owned one of the largest weapons research and development departments in the world," Senator Boynton said with a smug smile. "I'm sure that all the people who worked on it with him would know it just as well."

The interviewer frowned. "I heard he designed and built the prototype while he was a captive in Afghanistan," she objected.

"Oh, please," Boynton said dismissively. "That story is clearly apocryphal. Like I said, I'm not trying to take anything away from Tony Stark, but do you seriously believe that with the most advanced project in his company's history he put together every nut and bolt, welded all the edges…can you look me in the eye and tell me you think he did it all by himself."

"No," the interviewer conceded.

"No of course not," Boynton nodded. "It's not possible. We aren't talking about a DIY project here. The truth is Stark is standing on the shoulders of other, better men – starting with his own father – and he's treating the technology like his own personal toy. And look where that attitude has landed him. And that isn't even the main point I'm trying to make."

"What is?" the interviewer asked eagerly.

Senator Boynton adopted a serious expression. "Nobody elected Tony Stark. Nobody even employs him. What this tragic accident teaches us is that these technologies and abilities should be in the hands of people who know what they're doing. And I hope that this awful incident might at least have the effect of making Stark realise that."

"So you see the accident as being Tony Stark's own fault," the interviewer checked.

"Yes, and – "

With a click the TV changed to show women's beach volley ball.

"Hey, I was watching that?" Tony pointed out irritably.

Jarvis' smooth voice echoed out from the speakers. "Apologies, sir. I find Senator Boynton's opinions distressingly boring."

Tony stared past the scantily-dressed girls to the ceiling. "He has a point, you know."

"You do surprise me, sir," Jarvis said. "My extensive analysis suggests that he is entirely pointless."

"You keep saying stuff like that, people are going to start thinking you're going to go Skynet on us," Tony told him.

"I'm happy to assure anyone who might ask that I will not take over the world without your express command," Jarvis rejoined.

Tony almost smiled. "I'm sure everyone will find that a great reassurance," he said dryly. He closed his eyes for a second as a wave of pain crashed over him and for a while it was all he could do to keep breathing. It would be a while before he was due his next pain shot, he knew. He _didn't _have an addictive personality, no matter what Rhodey said, but the doctors had offered to set him up with a little button he could push to get all the drugs he wanted, and he'd had to say no then because if he said yes, he knew he'd never say no again.

He hadn't had a drink in over a month now. He supposed he'd detoxed while he'd been unconscious. Not that he was an alcoholic, but he could really use a drink. Maybe if he had a drink Boynton would stop talking in his head.

Oh, maybe a lot of the shots had hit wide of the mark, but one or two of them hit true. The truth was he thought he wasn't in this for the glory, but he liked being the centre of attention. He liked feeling useful – _essential _– because he knew first-hand that if he disappeared the world went right on turning. So maybe his reasons for doing this were wrong. Maybe he was arrogant to think he was the only one who should get to wear the armour. He didn't know.

Steve had told him once that he was just pretending to be a hero. There was something about seeing Captain-Freaking-America looking at you with that expression of weary disappointment and contempt that made you feel about two inches tall. Least it worked on Tony. If the Avengers ever somehow ran short of money, they could hire Steve out for interventions and PSAs. They'd make a killing.

Steve had never exactly got around to taking that back. If he even wanted to take it back. Tony had never asked if he'd changed his mind. There was no way to say 'I just caught a nuclear missile and willingly almost died taking it away from the city. Impressed?' without sounding desperately needy. Besides. He hadn't done it to impress anyone, but if he had, it wouldn't be Steve.

(_I just saved the world. Do you love me now, Daddy?_)

It was very difficult not to drift off into the bleaker parts of his mind. He was trying not to, since that talk with Steve – seriously. Intervention. He should suggest it. – but it wasn't easy. He hurt and he was exhausted and he'd been lying in this bed for over a month, and he _couldn't move._ It was worse when he was alone.

"Where's Pepper?" he asked. "I got pillows that need fluffing."

There was a brief silence. "Miss Potts flew to New York yesterday evening." Jarvis said evenly. "She had several meetings on Wall Street and with the board and stakeholders."

Right, of course. "I remember," he said, screwing his eyes shut. But for a moment there he hadn't remembered and they both knew it. That had happened before. Memory lapses and confusion. The doctors said it was temporary. Nothing to worry about. But it terrified him. Every time he felt a little less like himself and he wondered just what else he might be losing.

"Do you want to call a nurse to attend to the pillows?" Jarvis suggested.

"What? No," he answered absently. "No, they don't do it right." He wanted Pepper.

No one else was here right now. Thor was off seeing Jane, and Natasha and Clint were on some surveillance mission – he didn't know the details. And he didn't know where Bruce or Steve were, but he guessed they had other things to do.

Natasha mostly came by in the morning. She'd sit and drink her first cup of coffee, watch the news and talk to him. Bruce visited at lunch, normally with a stack of the latest scientific journals they could read and argue over. Clint and Thor tended to come by together, since neither of them liked hospital visiting. But that was fine, because they'd sit around and watch TV or play video games and often Bruce would stop by, or even Steve, and that was even better. And Steve tended to visit in the evening and they'd talk about anything and everything.

Of course it was nice that they hadn't forgotten him. He was...grateful, for want of a better word. But there was a routine now and he felt like visiting him had just become one more duty, and he was dreading the day when it became a chore.

"When will Pepper be back?" he asked. He couldn't remember.

"This evening," Jarvis told him. "I do not believe she would have left if it wasn't important."

It was important, he knew that. Pepper was trying desperately to keep the company afloat. Apparently seeing the joint-CEO being crushed by a giant mech on national TV made the markets nervous. Who'd have thought?

The share price was almost as low as it had been after he'd declared they weren't making weapons anymore. Pepper and Jarvis had tried to hide it from him, but if it didn't rally soon, they were in danger of having to make cutbacks. And he knew how he should be feeling about that, knew he should be coming up with ideas, taking at least some of the meetings himself – by Skype, if necessary – but he couldn't summon up the energy. And that only made him feel more useless.

A nurse came in and changed his IV and he watched her vaguely through half shut eyes. She left without saying anything, presumably assuming he was asleep, and he sighed as the pain lessened. It felt indescribably better, and he closed his eyes, anxious to sleep while he had the chance.

He was woken by the sound of the door opening, and he half lifted his head to see Nick Fury stride in, looking ill at ease.

Fury had been by a couple of times, but it had been awkward. They might respect each other, but truthfully, outside of Avengers business, they didn't have a whole lot to talk about. Or, rather, Tony had plenty to talk about, and Fury wasn't interested.

"Well," he said, trying to sound bright and succeeding in sounding slurred. "What brings you down here?"

There was a pause and Fury just stood there looking at him. "How are you feeling?" he asked at last.

"Just peachy," Tony told him. "I was thinking of going for a jog later."

"Good." Fury continued to stand there.

"Sit down, would you?" Tony asked irritably. "You're making me nervous."

Fury looked round and pulled up a chair. "I hear your physiotherapy is not going well," he said bluntly.

Tony swallowed hard. "It's been two sessions," he pointed out. Two ten minute sessions. In which he'd managed to actually work for less than two minutes, and he hadn't managed to actually do any of the ridiculously easy things they were asking.

"Yes," Fury agreed. "But it isn't going well. Let's be honest here, Stark. Our very best case scenario has you being out for a very long time."

He gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry if that inconveniences you."

"The Earth needs her defenders," Fury went on looking him straight in the eyes.

"What do you..." he began, and then he got it. "No."

"Time and time again Iron Man has proved invaluable," Fury stated. "You really think we're not going to need that technology again? Your willingness to share your armour could make all the difference."

"No," he said again, his jaw clenched. "Not going to happen." He managed to prop himself up on one elbow, his arm trembling alarmingly and he didn't know if it was pain, exhaustion or anger. "This is what you _want, _isn't it? You wanted Iron Man, you didn't want me."

Fury snorted derisively. "You think I've been waiting for some giant robot - "

" - mech, it was a mech," he interrupted harshly.

"You think I've been waiting for some giant _mech _to beat your ass to hell?" Fury demanded. "This isn't about your ego, this is about the safety and security of this planet. I'm not asking you to turn your designs over, I'm just asking you to let The Avengers – your _team _use it."

"Get out," he snarled, unable to stand the cold logic anymore. _He _was Iron Man. He was. And he'd _earned_ that. "Get out now."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Whose helicarrier is this anyway?"

"Then I'll get off this ride at the next stop," he promised, and he meant it. "Get _out._" Fury stood up and headed towards the door, but not fast enough, and Tony grabbed a water pitcher from the table and flung it recklessly. "And don't come back!" he yelled as Fury left.

Bruce stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and staring.

Tony clenched his fist. "You might want to be somewhere else," he advised, and with a thankful nod, Bruce vanished.

Alone, Tony let himself fall back down onto the bed, shaking and exhausted.

"Jarvis, start calculating the quickest way to get me home," he ordered. "For tonight, preferably."

"Sir, I really think you would be best discussing this with Miss Potts," Jarvis pleaded.

Tony closed his eyes and tried not to think of Pepper's face. "We both know what she'll say," he said hoarsely. "_Please._"

"Of course, sir," Jarvis said unhappily.

"Thanks," Tony said.

In his head a parade of people told him that he'd never measured up, and now he was useless.

Fury. Boynton. Steve. Dad.

He took a deep breath. Somehow, he _had _to prove them wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: And here is another chapter and we're finally getting towards the point of the story. More or less. :) **

**A/N2: To Rye...if you're still reading, I apologise if swearing offends you. To be honest, I've actually been making a conscious effort in this story to keep the language at a 12A sort of level so when I read your review I did a quick scan of the story in case I'd missed anything, but the strongest thing I could find was 'hell', which where I'm from isn't really counted as swearing. (Actually, where I'm from, far stronger words are generally used as punctuation, but that's another issue.) Anyway, I'm sorry if that bothers you, but to be honest, I'm going to use the words that the characters would so I have no intention of changing it to 'heck' or something like that. Besides. In the comics there's been alcoholism, cannibalism, incest and an Iron Man/Black Widow sex tape, so I don't think a couple of people saying 'hell' would get me anywhere near canon! **

* * *

There was a noticeable tension in the air from the moment they landed back on the helicarrier, Clint realised. Even as they walked through the corridor towards the meeting room, he spotted people he'd never even _spoken _to concentrating hard on not meeting their eyes. Automatically his hand dropped towards his bow, and he didn't have to look to know that Natasha had surreptitiously reached for her gun, and Steve's shield was handy.

They'd only been gone three days. What the hell had happened?

He and Natasha had been on a reconnaissance mission in Nowheresville, Wisconsin. Reports of 'something strange' had turned out to be a HYDRA outpost. They'd called Cap for backup, and that still hadn't prevented Clint from being thrown against the wall when one of the agents got a lucky shot with a grenade.

Sprained wrist. It wasn't much, but he wouldn't be able to use his bow for at least three weeks. And Natasha had got a lead on a larger HYDRA base from the grenade-throwing goon, which had led to them being called straight back to the helicarrier for a debriefing/rebriefing and finding themselves in the middle of a whole heap of tension.

And when they walked in the door to see Fury waiting for them along with Maria Hill, Bruce and various members of SHIELD's HYDRA taskforce, the feeling of wrongness only increased.

Maybe it was just because Tony wasn't there...

Fury glared at them until they took a seat.

"Alright, so we got a HYDRA base in Idaho that needs taken care of," he announced. "Normally, the Avengers could take care of it, but with two of you injured, you're going to need backup." He glanced at Clint with an expression of annoyance.

He was about to make some caustic remark, when Bruce spoke up. "Oh, so Tony is still officially on the team then?" he said, his voice bristling with anger. Clint looked over, alarmed, and he thought he could see a tinge of green bleeding into Bruce's eyes.

Noticeably, the other SHIELD agents started edging towards the door, and Clint wasn't sure he really blamed them. Right now, he wished Thor was here. Or Iron Man.

Evidently Steve thought so too. "Dr Banner, you need to calm down," he said in a conciliatory voice.

"I _am_ calm," Bruce spat. "Tony's gone."

Gone? He stared. "What do you mean, gone?" The man was confined to bed, he couldn't just up and leave whenever he wanted.

"He can't have," Steve said, echoing his thought.

"Of course he can," Natasha sighed, before looking at Fury coolly. "What did you do?"

Fury's expression didn't change. "The Avengers need Iron Man."

"Well, he's laid up for the foreseeable future," Steve frowned.

"He said Iron Man," Natasha corrected coldly. "Not Tony Stark.

Bruce nodded his agreement. "Apparently, he told Tony to give the suit to someone else. Tony got angry and left."

"He _can't_ have," Steve said again, sounding just a little desperate and a little fixated. Personally, Clint had no trouble believing that Tony had done something quite that unexpectedly ridiculous.

"He has," Bruce snapped. "He got Jarvis to help him. His plane landed on the helicarrier and a bunch of doctors took him out of here. And SHIELD just let him go!"

"Mr Stark is not a prisoner," Fury said shortly. "He wants to leave, he's free to do so."

Right. Normally if one of them – okay, normally if _Clint –_ tried to leave the hospital before they were officially released, Fury would dispatch a couple of agents to sit on him. "You're that pissed at him?" he asked without thinking.

He regretted it when Fury turned to him with a dead-eyed stare. "The Avengers need Iron Man," he said at last. "There are more important things to worry about than Stark's feelings. Like this Hydra base. Or have you all forgotten?"

They finished the briefing and Cap, Bruce and Natasha flew off to deal with the base, leaving Clint free to go to New York after Tony. For the first time, he could see the advantage of being injured.

He stood in front of the elevator to the private levels of the Avengers Tower, and looked unhappily first at the door and then at the key in his hand. This had to still work, right? It hadn't even been a day; Tony probably hadn't even had a change to remove his security clearance, even if he was planning on it.

Of course, the problem with that was he knew what the security measures in the Avengers Tower were like for anyone Tony didn't want to get upstairs. Comprehensive, inventive with just a hint of absolutely vicious. Clint really didn't want to be on the receiving end of that.

No. He really didn't think Tony would have put them on that sort of level of alert, no matter how angry he was. The worst that was going to happen here was that he'd just be refused entry.

Alright. Squaring his shoulders, he gingerly swiped the key across the reader and waited for a tense second, knowing that he was being scanned, assessed and considered. Just in case he was a spy, an imposter or a door-to-door salesman. Eventually, the door slid open and he hurried into the elevator.

"Good morning, Mr Barton," Jarvis said smoothly.

"Hey, Jarvis," he said awkwardly, looking round to spot the pinhole camera on the ceiling. "Did Tony get here okay?" He always felt strange talking to the AI, even after all this time.

"Mr Stark is in the penthouse, resting comfortably," Jarvis told him, and he sighed with relief. That didn't sound too bad then. "Miss Potts is with him."

"Pepper's there, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Rather him than me." He seriously doubted that Pepper had taken the news of Tony's latest escapade well. "Can you tell them I'm here?"

"Of course, Mr Barton," Jarvis said obligingly, and a moment later the elevator was speeding upwards.

It had been a little more than twelve hours since Tony had left the helicarrier, and yet somehow in that time the penthouse had turned into a private hospital. Clint walked in to see a doctor talking to two nurses, what looked like some kind of futuristic portable x-ray device, and a bunch of clipboards covered in bad handwriting.

"Mr Stark is waiting for you," Jarvis announced, and Clint smirked to see one of the nurses jump a foot in the air and look around wildly for the source of the voice.

As he walked into the next room a woman in a white lab coat and a mini-skirt walked out, smiling at him in passing. Even in the circumstances, he found himself glancing after her. God, she was beautiful. He'd always had a thing for redheads...

But then he was looking at Tony, lying in a hospital bed, hooked to just as many machines as he had been back on the helicarrier, and looking even more pale and helpless. And glaring at Clint like he was willing him to catch fire.

Pepper was there too, standing in between Tony and Clint, and she didn't look any more friendly.

"Fury send you?" Tony asked intently, and obviously the anger hadn't faded yet.

He held up his hands appeasingly, glancing sideways at Pepper, trying to reassure her that he wasn't any kind of threat. "Nah. This is just me. What, do I look like a SHIELD spy or something?"

"Uh, _yes,_" Tony pointed out. "You might want to work on that."

"Fury doesn't even know I'm here," he promised. Not that he thought Fury would object in any way.

"Then why _are _you here?" Tony demanded.

Clint pursed his lips. "I live here?" he suggested mildly. "Or have you taken that back?"

Technically, he only lived there part time. With the exception of Bruce, who was sort of homeless, and Thor, who spent half his downtime at Jane's anyway, they all had their own homes to go to. A half dozen, in Tony's case. But somehow, Tony's offer of 'If you're ever in New York and need a place to stay...' had led to them each having their own specially designed luxurious suite of rooms in the tower, and from there they each wound up spending as much time there as not. It was sorta nice all living together. It felt like belonging, and Clint could get used to that. And although the question hadn't been altogether serious, he suddenly realised that he really didn't know what he'd do if Tony _had _taken it back.

"Listen," he said earnestly. "What Fury said. None of us knew about that. Why do you think he waited until Pepper, and all of us were away?"

"Steve and Bruce - " Tony began.

Clint interrupted quickly. " - Cap came out to join me and Natasha, and Bruce was too busy trying not to Hulk out to do anything else."

"Huh." Tony squeezed his eyes shut and his head slumped down onto the pillow. "You really didn't know?" he said weakly. Pepper hurried over to him

"No," he said, swallowing hard, and seeing Tony so vulnerable was _painful. _"No. None of us knew."

Tony opened one eye and looked at him carefully. "Do you agree with him?"

He hesitated, picking through his words carefully. "It's not a question of agreeing with him...it's your decision, Tony. But I gotta say...if I'm out, no one gets to use my bow. No one gets to touch Natasha's guns. Period."

"It's not the same thing," Tony said, looking away again quickly.

He shrugged. "It's sort of the same thing," he argued. He got the difference; no one was _asking _for his bow, and no one expected that someone else using it could make all the difference in the world...but he didn't think that Tony should just have to hand over his stuff either. "But my point is, we're all behind you. No matter what, we've got your back. Always."

Tony lay very still, but Clint could see the edges of relief and wonder in his eyes.

Pepper smiled. "Thank you, Clint," she murmured.

He nodded awkwardly, feeling slightly more exposed than he was really comfortable with.

Tony grinned at Clint and the moment was broken. "So if you're not a spy, I guess that means we only have one running around."

"Zara isn't a spy, she's a physiotherapist," Pepper said, sounding exasperated.

"Zara?" Clint asked, frowning.

"She's a physiotherapist," Pepper repeated patiently. "Tony's physiotherapist."

"And a SHIELD spy," Tony added.

"You must have passed her on the way in," Pepper went on, ignoring him.

His brow cleared. "The hot red head in the lab coat?" he asked.

"That's the one," Tony confirmed, and then looked sideways at Pepper. "I mean...there's only one hot red head around here, and I'm going to tell Natasha on you."

"Good luck with that," he murmured. "So, just so we're clear, you're not taking your offer back, right?" he said lightly.

Tony turned his head effortfully. "Mi casa es su casa. Besides. If you guys left, I'd have to get the decorators in again, and those guys hate me."

"They do hate him," Pepper confirmed. "He stole their paint sprayer."

"I needed it for a vital experiment," Tony protested. "Into...painting things."

"Right." He probably didn't want to know.

Tony was beginning to look tired and Pepper shot him a meaningful look. He stretched, and turned ostentatiously towards the door. "I should probably go. I need to let the others know you're okay. Before Steve taps our neighbourhood thunder god to storm the tower and check."

"Right," Tony said slowly, sounding a little uneasy.

He turned back quickly and smiled. "Is it okay if I come back up for lunch?" he asked.

Tony's answering smile was wide and relieved. "You just followed me here to steal my pudding again, right?"

"Why else?" he said mockingly, and as he walked out he felt like at least they'd established that whatever Fury might think, Tony was still, and always would be, part of the team.

Now he just had to call Thor and let him know what was going on. Otherwise before too long it would be raining inside again.

* * *

Pepper rubbed at her eyes, downed her triple espresso (_her fourth of the day, and oh, God, she was actually turning into Tony_) and started walking slowly towards their room. She had to be upbeat and positive. No matter that they now had journalists, lawyers and auditors hounding her day and night, demanding to know just how much of Stark Industries budget had gone on 'Stark's pet vanity project'.

She wanted to scream at them and remind them just how many lives Tony's 'pet vanity project' had saved, but that would only feed further into the 'arrogance' line Senator Boynton was pushing. She knew he was behind this. It was an election year and he'd found an issue he could really get behind. He went on MSNBC and argued that having this sort of power in the hands of unregulated, unscrupulous individuals and corporations was wrong and dangerous; and he went on Fox News and argued that keeping the Iron Man technology out of the hands of the US military was unpatriotic and unAmerican; and everyone listened to him like he was revealing everything that was wrong with the world. Apparently it was all Tony Stark's fault. Who knew?

It was difficult to defend them against this kind of mudflinging when she had so much more important things on her mind. Some of the more insistent vultures were even demanding to talk to Tony in person. And that just wasn't going to happen if Pepper had a say in it - Tony might be doing better but he wasn't up to that sort of verbal fist fight But so far her refusal had only led to media speculation that Tony was brain damaged and at death's door.

She clenched her fists tightly and willed herself to calm down. She'd got their own lawyers going after the source of those particular rumours.

Again and again the question had been '_Do the shareholders approve of __pouring all the company's profits into building Tony's Iron Man?' _And that was plain unreasonable. For a start, Tony still owned a controlling interest in the company, and Pepper herself owned a reasonable percentage of the rest – Tony had never been stingy with bonuses, even back when she was his assistant. What they were talking about were Obadiah's shares, now passed out into the world. Even dead he seemed determined to ruin everything Tony had built.

Tony was doing better at least. Most of the time he ranged between obsessive determination, struggling through physiotherapy exercises with Zara until the pain brought tears to his eyes, and working on new designs and refining products, to try and up their revenue stream, even a little; and crippling fits of depression that left him too exhausted to even open his eyes, until all Pepper could do was hold his hand and hope he could hear her.

Really, he almost certainly could do with talking to a professional. But he'd refused to even consider it after Afghanistan, and he'd been just as vehement this time around. At least this time he was cooperating with the doctors.

On the whole though, she thought that moving back home had been good for him. No matter that her first thought, when he had texted her from the air ambulance had been '_I'm going to kill him'. _Leaving the helicarrier wasn't the most stupid thing he'd ever done but it definitely made the list. Even as he'd been running for her car, desperate to get back to the tower to meet him, she'd been imagining all the things that could go wrong. All the many, many things. His injuries were still so vulnerable. Too much movement, he could completely paralyse himself for life. He could even _die._

But he'd been fine. Weak and exhausted and shivering with effort and shock, but by the doctors' description, as fine as anyone could be after something so foolhardy.

She'd helped get their bedroom turned into a hospital room, made sure the medical staff had everything they needed, made sure _Tony _had everything he needed, and then she'd locked herself in the bathroom and had a good cry.

It had been cathartic. And when she'd walked back through and Tony had looked at her with that guilty kicked-puppy expressions, she was able to take his hand and tell him it was okay before he even tried to say sorry.

He'd told her then what had happened. And Pepper could see it from Fury's point of view, but she could also see how Tony felt and that would always be more important. Not to mention Fury had waited until Pepper had gone and Tony was alone and drugged, before making his move. Her mouth twisted; she was very angry about that.

She'd brought a recliner into the bedroom and landed it beside Tony's hospital bed, so she was right there if he needed her, and she had breezily ignored Tony's suggestion that she'd be much more comfortable sleeping in the spare room, and he didn't need his hand held every second of the day. Because that was never going to happen. She'd left him alone once, and look what had happened.

Tony had fallen asleep even before his analgesia infusion was set up, but Pepper had lain awake, wondering what happened next, wondering if SHIELD would try and take the armour by force, wondering darkly who they'd send. And then Clint Barton had arrived the next morning and all her fears had been laid to rest. She could have hugged him.

Thor had arrived shortly after that, gingerly holding an impossibly enormous bouquet of flowers from him andJane, which Tony had allowed in the room only once he was sure it wasn't going to eat him in the night.

"Asgardian killer flowers," he argued. "It could happen."

"We purchased these from a lady named Rose," Thor said, sounding hurt. "She said they were what was traditional."

Sales people had a way of seeing Thor coming. Pepper still remembered with dread the Great Encyclopedia Delivery. "They're lovely," she'd said with regard to the flowers, looking pointedly at Tony.

The rest of the Avengers had returned once their mission was completed, and they'd all immediately come up to visit, supportive and scolding by turns, and with each new face Tony grew brighter.

They'd kept visiting over the next week. Pepper had to admit, the Avengers were good for him. No matter how much he might act like he didn't need people, the truth was Tony liked being part of something. Pepper knew that – her and Rhodey aside – everyone that Tony had cared about in his life had betrayed him or abandoned him, sooner or later. It was going to take time for him to fully accept that these..._superheroes, _if Tony absolutely insisted...weren't going to do the same. At least Pepper didn't think they were. And if they did, she swore she'd find some way to make him pay.

In the meantime Tony continued to wear that hidden expression of surprise and delight every time Bruce linked his lab up to Skype so Tony could at least what what they referred to as mad science, or every time Thor came bounding in with Natasha's laptop because he'd discovered LOL Cats and nothing was going to stop him spreading the joy, or every time Clint snuck him a cup of coffee, and Tony celebrated going against the doctors orders, even though Clint had quietly admitted to Pepper that actually it was decaf and it was fine, he'd just figured there were more harmful ways for Tony to rebel.

The point was, they got him. And that might just be what was giving him the strength to carry on.

And Tony, being Tony, hadn't said 'Thank you' or 'I love you guys' or any of that stuff, but he'd designed Clint a quiver that would apparently allow him to put his hand on the arrow he needed a second faster than before. That didn't sound like much to Pepper, but Clint had gazed at it like all his Christmases had come at once.

Tony expressed his emotions by fixing things that didn't need fixing. That was why Pepper's car did two hundred miles to the gallon. (And if they could just find a way to make the technology cost less than the space shuttle, they'd never have to worry about the company again.) That was why her cell phone _could _get a signal at the bottom of a nuclear bunker. Unfortunately they'd found that out the hard way. And that was why she was expecting the rest of the team would have some equipment upgrades sometime soon.

Her mind had wandered, she realised suddenly. She'd promised Tony she'd be away for half an hour at the absolute most, while he had his physio session with Zara but the telecon had made her so mad and it was almost that time now.

She hurried into the room and paused as Zara looked at her with a sort of understanding disapproval. She'd agreed to stay out of the way during Tony's sessions. Apparently she was a distraction.

"Sorry," she muttered.

Zara nodded and turned back to Tony, carefully pulling the blankets back over his legs. "Now, Mr Stark, you mustn't feel disheartened," she said cheerily. "I know it feels like you aren't making any progress, but really it's early days."

Tony barely nodded. Pepper made a mental note to tell Zara that talking down to Tony was never, ever helpful.

"Thanks, Zara," she said as the woman passed her.

Zara nodded again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Stark," she called.

Pepper waited until the door closed before pulling the chair up next to the bed and sitting down beside him. "So," she said after a moment, squeezing his hand.

He looked up at her for a second and then turned away. "You know, your position as CEO and your shares...you'd still have those even if we split up."

She stared at him. "Oh, really?" she said, trying to keep her voice light but she was still able to hear the sharp edge. "I'd never considered it could be otherwise."

"I just wanted to give you options," he said.

"Options," she repeated flatly. "Options to leave you, you mean."

His fingernails were digging into his palm, she noticed, but when she reached out he pulled his hand away. "We need to start being realistic - "

" - _realistic?_" she interrupted, incredulous and angry. "You've never been _realistic _about anything in your life. And mostly you've been right. So if you're telling me - "

" - _I'm not going to get better, Pepper,_" he said, low and anguished, and she took his hand quickly and this time he let her.

"We don't know that," she reminded him gently. "The doctors said it would be months before we know for sure."

"But I see the way people look at me," he said in a whisper. "And I've seen my x-rays and I've read up on what that means...if I'm going to be stuck here for the rest of my life, I don't want you looking after me."

His words were unbelievably hurtful, but Pepper forced herself not to react. "Alright," she said instead, her voice steady. "Alright. Suppose for a moment we start to assume that you're not going to get better. So what do you do? Are you going to stop taking your medication? Are you going to stop trying at physiotherapy? Are you going to stop designing whatever you're designing for Bruce?"

"It's a new electron microscope," he said, as though he couldn't quite stop himself. "He said he was having trouble getting anything with fine enough calibration."

She nodded. "Are you going to stop trying?" she pressed again. "You really want to give up?"

He jerked suddenly, as if that had hit him harder than he'd been expecting. "I don't give up," he snapped.

"Well, neither do I," she answered swiftly. "And if you really think that after all these years I'm giving up on _you _then you've finally lost your mind. Besides," she added, with a tiny smile. "Have you actually managed to discover your social security number, Mr Stark?"

There was a pause and then he answered the way she was hoping he would. "I'm beginning to think you're hiding it from me, Miss Potts."

She leaned over and kissed him, her hand resting just above his arc reactor.

"Don't make me leave," she whispered. "We can get through this together, I swear."

In response he kissed her again. "I've mostly been right, huh?" he said teasingly after a second.

"If pressed, I'm going to deny ever saying it," she told him with a grin.

She was well aware that he hadn't actually promised anything. But right now, she'd take even the smallest victory.

* * *

Tony wasn't the guy who sat around waiting and worrying on other people. Simply put, that had never been his role. In the last few years, he'd mostly been the one people were worrying about.

But now he was lying holding Pepper's hand tightly, watching the news as Jarvis scanned for more information, knowing all the while that he should be out there.

The call had come in the middle of movie night. A full on HYDRA attack in downtown Los Angeles, led by some guy in a green costume calling himself Baron Strucker, and his army of seemingly invincible super soldiers.

An army of men who were just as strong and fast and agile as Steve. Only these ones didn't seem to feel pain, and any time the camera got close enough to show it, their eyes were glazed and dead.

Tony had robots who were more alive than these guys.

The other Avengers had all been in his room when the news came on, watching Shaun of the Dead. Ten seconds later and it had just been him and Pepper and a half empty bowl of popcorn.

They carried on watching the news, and with the sight of every civilian screaming and trying to run away, every new explosion, every time the camera cut away to avoid showing the bodies...Tony knew that he could have been there by now. Knew that he could have made a difference. _Iron Man _could have made a difference.

And then the Avengers arrived, and despite the relief in the reporter's voice, for Tony, that was even worse.

He had to watch, helpless, as Captain America was thrown from a building, as Hawkeye dived desperately to avoid Baron Strucker's gunfire, as a small army brought Hulk down... He saw blood and bruises, saw the pain, saw them struggling and he imagined how Iron Man could have stopped it.

This was hell and he couldn't stop watching.

Thor was hit by some sort of energy weapon and fell to the ground unmoving. Cap leapt in and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the shelter of a nearby building, and Tony couldn't even tell if Thor was alive or dead.

Natasha was left alone in the middle of the street, firing desperately, and Tony could see them coming at her from the building above, and he reached out a hand automatically, as though he could somehow blast them from here, but they swarmed over her and she was hidden beneath a pile of bodies.

He heard Pepper sob beside him but he didn't look round, staring dry eyed at the screen as Hulk roared and threw the super soldiers aside long enough for Natasha to scramble to safety.

The battle raged on and eventually the super soldiers seemed to burn out, slumping to the ground one by one, and Baron Strucker escaped from the roof in some sort of jet aircraft so high tech that even Tony couldn't identify it.

Iron Man could have caught up with him.

The camera panned back to the Avengers, standing huddled in the street. Thor was still down, and Cap and Natasha weren't looking much better, and they looked hurt and they looked beaten.

Iron Man could have helped.

Iron Man should have been there.

He closed his eye briefly and realised he'd already made the decision. "Jarvis?" he croaked. "Get Fury on the line."

Pepper looked round at him alarmed. "Tony..."

"What is it, Stark," Fury's voice rang out abruptly from the phone by his bedside. "I'm busy."

"Whoever you had in mind to be Iron Man, send them over," Tony said hoarsely. "I'll get armour designed and made for them."

There was a long pause, and when he spoke, Fury sounded almost hesitant for the first time since Tony had known him. "Thank you, Mr Stark, but we can just use one of your old suits."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Alright. If whoever you had in mind has the exact same reflexes, body mass and inside leg measurement as me, he can have my old armour. Otherwise, send him over and I'll armour him up. He can even choose his own paint job."

"I'll call you as soon as I've briefed the candidate," Fury said shortly. "Thank you, Mr Stark."

He rang off.

Pepper sat on the edge of his bed and put an arm round him, but thankfully she didn't speak.

Tony thought that right now, if anyone said _anything, _he might just start crying.

He had the weirdest feeling he didn't exist anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry this took longer than I was expecting...I've been surprisingly busy.**

* * *

Major Harry Shepherd waited uneasily outside Director Fury's office, wondering if at some point someone was going to tell him exactly what was going on. He was sure this couldn't be normal procedure. For weeks he'd been trying to apply for a secondment posting to SHIELD and they'd ran him through increasingly impossible tests and flight simulations, along with a barrage of personality profiles and psych evaluations that left him uncertain if he really was who he thought he was. They'd gone over his entire service record – he'd had to sit and smile while some kid barely old enough to shave questioned everything he'd ever said or did. And then there was the background checks. As far as he could tell they'd interviewed everyone he'd ever spoken to.

Joining SHIELD was evidently more difficult than he'd have imagined. And then he'd got a call in the middle of the night telling him to be ready in ten minutes and he'd been flown here by helicopter.

On the way he'd heard a radio report – apparently the Avengers were fighting some super soldier force in Los Angeles, which made it seem like a strange time for SHIELD to be conducting job interviews. Unless the situation was more serious than he imagined, and they needed every recruit they could get. That wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

But he was left sitting for an hour or so, drinking what might just be the best cup of coffee he'd ever had, and it didn't feel like a military base preparing for disaster. Everyone was too calm, right up until Director Fury swept in, followed by a couple of junior agents who seemed to be desperately competing to be sure _their _report was the one the director heard.

Fury stopped dead on seeing him, and immediately Shepherd leapt to his feet, struggling to dispose of the coffee cup quickly enough to salute.

"Director Fury, sir," he said smartly.

"Major Shepherd," Fury said, inclining his head. "Come in. Take a seat." He turned back towards the agents. "You, come back when you agree on something."

"Yes sir," they chorused.

"Thank you sir," Shepherd said, following Fury into the office. He sat; Fury stood behind his desk, towering over him.

"So. You know why you're here?" Fury asked.

He hesitated. "My application for a transfer to SHIELD - "

" - irrelevant," Fury said dismissively. "You're a distinguished USAF pilot. You've flown more than eighty successful missions over Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya, several of them so classified it too me almost half an hour to get the details. You have numerous citations for bravery, including the Bronze Star and the Distinguished Flying Cross."

"Yes sir," Shepherd agreed, when he paused.

"You have the highest recorded scores in three of our flight tests and the second highest in the fourth," Fury went on. "Your friends and fellow officers say you're a good team player, capable of adapting and fitting in under almost any circumstances." He paused, looking at Shepherd steadily. "Well, that's good. Because these are going to be exceptionally difficult circumstances."

"Sir?" he asked curiously.

Fury moved out from behind the desk and stood facing the window, his hands clasped behind his back. "You might be aware that Tony Stark was injured six weeks ago."

"Yes sir," he agreed. It had been plastered all over the news. In fact the story was still brought up every time Stark Industries, or the Avengers were mentioned, and especially by Senator Boynton in his continuing campaign to make sure that the Avengers in general, and Iron Man in particular, were better regulated. And not that he was anxious to mention it around here, but the Senator might have a point. After all, an experienced military pilot might well have managed to avoid making Stark's mistakes.

"_If _Mr Star recovers, it is likely to be a long and arduous process. At this time no one is able to take up the duties of Iron Man, and Iron Man is vital to Earth's defences."

"isn't there another one?" Shepherd interjected. He was sure he remembered something about that.

Fury glared at him, but chose to answer. "War Machine is currently on assignment and cannot be easily reached," he said. "Mr Stark has agreed to supply Iron Man armour to whoever I chose to replace him." He turned round slowly. "And I've chosen you."

For a moment he couldn't do anything but sit and stare. "What?" he asked, incredulously.

"I want you to join the Avengers Initiative as the new Iron Man," Fury said clearly.

"Sir..." He floundered for a second. "This is obviously a great honour, but is this...I mean, am I really the best candidate?"

"Yes you are," Fury said assuredly. "For various reasons I've found it...advisable...to select someone from outside the official SHIELD hierarchy. And I'm afraid I can't give you much time to think about it. I need an answer now." He gazed at Shepherd expectantly.

Become one of Earth's greatest heroes? Really, there was only one answer. "I accept, sir," he said.

Fury nodded like he wasn't surprised. "Now, this may yet prove to be a temporary assignment, in which case there is a place waiting for you in SHIELD. We'll regularly review the situation. Your first priorities are to cooperate with Stark in building your new armour, and to integrate into your new team. You'll see Captain Rogers for your orders."

"Captain America?" He sounded just a little more breathless than he'd really like.

Fury smiled humourlessly. "That's right. Welcome to the Avengers. I'll call a meeting within the next few days to get you formally introduced to the rest of the team, but I want you to go see Stark right away."

"Now, sir?" he questioned, involuntarily glancing at his watch. "It wasn't even four in the morning. "Isn't Stark..." He hesitated, not finding a tactful way to say injured and at death's door.

With a heavy sigh, Fury sat down behind his desk, his hands steepled. "Mr Stark was not happy to allow anyone else the use of the Iron Man technology," he said. "I want to get moving on this as fast as possible. Before he changes his mind."

Shepherd bit his tongue, careful not to ask the questions he was dying to. There was a limit to how far a man should question his superiors. But from what he knew of SHIELD, he was surprised that they let a civilian – even one as important as Tony Stark – get away with being obstructive like that. More than that, though, he found it repellent that Stark would even think about hoarding technology that could save lives, but he supposed that was par for the course.

"I see, sir," he said instead.

"Good, Fury said, nodding sharply. "Stark is a brilliant man, but don't expect him to make this easy for you. Now get going."

He headed for the door and stopped when he heard Fury's voice calling after him. "Major Shepherd."

"Sir?" He turned.

"These are some incredibly large shoes you're trying to fill," Fury said coolly. "Remember that."

Right.

Ninety minutes later he was looking up at the tower and the large sign saying _Avengers._ That wasn't exactly subtle, by his way of thinking. But when he thought about what it stood for...Earth's greatest heroes were based under this roof. And now, somehow, he was one of them.

There was a concierge on duty when he walked in. He'd half been expecting it all to be roboticised, but instead he was looking at a very attractive woman.

"Major Shepherd to see Tony Stark," he said, and winced as his voice echoed loudly in the empty foyer.

Her nose wrinkled as she checked her computer. "Mr Stark is not currently taking appointments," she said. "Especially at this hour."

"I was told to come over by Director Fury," he offered. "From SHIELD."

"Major Shepherd is expected, Miss Rand," a smooth English voice announced from the intercom. "Please issue him with a blue pass and send him up to the penthouse."

"Of course, Jarvis," she nodded. "Major Shepherd, if you could just put your thumb here...and sign here..." He did as he was told. "Okay, here's your pass. Please take the elevator up to the twenty ninth floor and someone will meet you there and take you to the private elevator."

"There's no way straight up?" he asked, surprised.

She regarded him coolly. "Not from here," she explained.

He supposed that made sense.

He was met on the twenty ninth floor by a drop dead gorgeous red head in an obviously expensive tailored business suit, looking like she hadn't even noticed it was half five in the morning, and still dark out. If nothing else, Stark obviously had a great taste in employees.

"Major Shepherd, I'm Pepper Potts," she introduced herself. "I'm here to take you to see Mr Stark. If you'd like to follow me, please?"

"You know, Mr Stark didn't have to send you down here," he said, hurrying to catch up with her. "I'm sure I could have found my own way up."

"Through our security?" She shot him a smile. "Not unless you have much more infiltration experience than your file suggests."

The secretary had read his file. Okay. "I don't see any security," he said, as much to get a reaction as anything else.

"Hawkeye says that's the best kind," she returned.

He was going to have to get used to a world where people name dropped superheroes.

The rest of trip was in silence as Shepherd looked around the building in amazement. It really was spectacular. Everything looked hi tech and luxurious, like an evil overlord's lair in a sci fi movie.

"And here we are," Pepper said, as they walked out into a large airy apartment, which appeared to have been transformed into a hospital, judging by the equipment lying around, and the harried looking nurse glaring at Miss Potts. What money could buy, he supposed, though why Stark didn't just go to one of those fancy private hospitals he'd never know.

"Mr Stark is supposed to be resting," the nurse announced loudly.

"Welcome to my world," Potts said under her breath, obviously not meaning anyone to hear. "I know, Elise. As soon as he's seen Major Shepherd."

"You know, I could come back," he offered. "I mean, I know what Director Fury said, but obviously I don't want to do anything that risks Mr Stark's recovery."

Potts shot him an odd, appraising glance, like she was reconsidering him. But all she said was. "He wants to see you. This way, please, Major."

Shepherd had met Tony Stark before, years ago, long before the Avengers, Iron Man or any of that. He'd been a very junior officer at a new missile system demonstration. Stark had been loud and arrogant, but there had been a charismatic confidence there that had made it impossible not to fall under his spell. There had been some question Shepherd had asked. Something about the targeting system, and Stark had smiled straight at him, conspiratorially, and said he was glad someone had the brains to ask, and he'd gone on to explain how, thanks to his genius, they'd be able to cycle through targets faster and more accurately than ever before. And thing was, he'd been right. Shepherd couldn't count the number of times that had made all the difference in a fire fight. When he'd heard Stark had gone missing in Afghanistan, he'd been genuinely saddened and shaken up, and they'd all drank to Stark's memory in the Officer's Mess that night, certain that the man's body would surface eventually.

But instead Stark had returned and there'd been that press conference. Stark Industries wasn't building any more weapons. The new planes coming off the production line didn't have that new missile targeting system that Shepherd found so valuable. Oh, they had something similar, designed and manufactured by Justin Hammer, ironically, but it wasn't the same and it wasn't as good and everyone knew it. And in every branch of the service it was the same. No more Stark weapons left them struggling to find even half way acceptable replacement. Stark made the best; it had been one more edge for the US over its enemies at a time when it needed all the edges it could get.

Tony Stark's pacifism cost lives. That was the God's honest truth.

Still, Shepherd found it difficult to relate the man lying in the hospital bed in front of him to the exuberant man he'd admired at the demonstration, or even the older haunted-looking man he'd been so angry with after the press conference.

This Stark was pale, thin and drawn, with dark shadows under his eyes, covered with wires and tubes, plaster and metal immobilising his left arm and everything up to his waist.

He swallowed hard, trying not to let his shock show. This was just like visiting someone in the VA hospital, he told himself. Didn't matter whether you liked them or not, the important thing was to act normal and not show any pity.

"Mr Stark," he said, walking up to the bed, his hand extended. "It's good of you to see me at this hour."

Stark made no attempt to take his hand. "So. You're the best Fury could find to replace me? Right. How old are you anyway. Eighteen?"

"I'm twenty six, sir," he said stiffly. "I'm an experienced combat pilot who - "

" - engineering?" Stark interrupted rudely.

He blinked, floundering. "What?"

"Mr Stark would like to know if you have any engineering experience," Potts explained from behind him. He twisted in time to see her level a warning look at Stark.

"No I don't," he said, turning back to Stark.

"Anything at all," Stark pressed. "Can you at least hold a welding torch without burning yourself."

"I've never tried but I'm sure I'll be able to learn," he said smoothly.

"He'll be able to learn," Stark repeated, rolling his eyes. "Terrific."

"Look," he said, stung. "I'm a great pilot. I can fly anything you put in front of me. And I was under the impression that building the thing was someone else's department. The guys who built the space shuttle weren't the ones we sent to the moon after all." He smiled, slightly smugly.

Behind him he could hear Potts taking a deep breath, but it was Stark who spoke.

"No indeed," he said. "Especially as the space shuttle didn't begin operational flights until thirteen years after the first moon landing, but don't let that bother you. Oh, and you and the good Senator Boynton might want to consider that Armstrong and Aldrin both had graduate degrees in engineering and were heavily involved in developing the technology needed for the moon landing. Believe me, they knew how to use a welding torch. Also," he added, locking eyes with Shepherd. "It helps if you can make basic repairs after you've been knocked about by a high powered turbine, so that you can fly off to deal with the alien invasion."

He gritted his teeth. "Like I said. I can learn."

"Let's hope so," Stark returned.

Right. He forced himself to calm down, trying to count to ten. It wasn't like he'd been expecting Stark to be grateful, but he would have thought that the man would at least be relieved that his legacy was in good hands.

"So what happens next?" he asked politely.

Stark ignored him. "Jarvis, let's get to the basics," he called.

Shepherd resisted the urge to look around. He _knew _there was no one there. And still the voice came out of nowhere.

"Major Shepherd is six foot three and weighs two hundred and eleven pounds. His chest is forty six inches, his shoulder - "

" - alright, enough," Stark interrupted. "Just load the measurements onto a projection, okay?"

"What?" he asked, uncertain what he was even asking.

Potts stepped up beside him. "That's Jarvis, Tony's AI. He's able to take your measurements non intrusively. I think we're both happier not asking why."

"Just think of it as like getting fitted for a suit but without the tape measure or the chatty tailor," Stark told him without looking up from the hologram of a man that had just appeared in front of him. "Right, so he's taller, broader and heavier than me or Rhodey," he said distractedly.

"By a large measure, sir," Jarvis agreed.

"That's going to mess with the weight distribution and the aerodynamics. We're going to need to compensate. "Stark reached out with his good hand and pulled parts of the Iron Man costume onto the figure. A column of incomprehensible numbers scrolled down and Stark shook his head irritably. "No. Okay, how about..." He dragged the armour off the figure and replaced it with indistinguishable pieces. More numbers flew past and Stark scowled. "Still no. Speed's compromised." With a gesture, the armour vanished off the figure. "We're gonna need to start a completely new model."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Means it's gonna be weeks rather than days," Stark explained shortly.

Oh. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not be so freakishly built?" Stark suggested sarcastically. Then he sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Don't worry, Major. I'm going to have plenty for you to do. I'll need to know exactly how you're going to use this thing, and that means finding out how you move, how you react, how you fly, how you fight...believe me, whatever tests Fury put you through to get this gig? You're going to look back at them with nostalgia."

He nodded, wondering how much of that would _really _be necessary and how much was just for Stark's twisted enjoyment. "Something to look forward to," he said all the same.

"Yeah." Stark's brow creased. "Actually, we can get the basic movement capture done now. Run on the spot for a bit, would you?"

He stared. "Run...?"

"On the spot, yes," Stark said impatiently. "I know you're Air Force and running is more for the army, but they do still teach you basic movement, don't they?"

Still not sure just how serious Stark was, he stayed put.

"Come on...running?" Stark prompted. "One of a range of things I can't do anymore?"

He glanced back at Potts for help, but she was just standing watching him expectantly.

Alright, then. Still half expecting Stark to start laughing, he half-heartedly began to jog on the spot.

But Stark wasn't even looking at him, watching the hologram instead, which had begun to mimic Shepherd's movement.

"Do it properly," Stark instructed.

More confident now, he did so, keeping it up for five minutes or so, until Stark told him to stop.

"Okay, do some jumping jacks," Stark ordered. "Twenty or so should do it."

Jumping jacks? "Is this really necessary or are you yanking my chain?" he demanded.

Stark looked up at him. "If I was yanking your chain, I would have told you to dance," he said shortly. "This is necessary."

"Why?" he challenged.

"I told you, for the movement capture," Stark said impatiently, like it explained everything.

He stood stubbornly still.

"Believe me, if the elbow joint is a couple of millimetres out of proper alignment, you'll soon know about it," Stark snapped at last. "Now, are you going to do it or am I going to have to call Fury and tell him to send someone who isn't afraid of a little exercise."

At least he'd won an explanation. Stony faced, he started doing the jumping jacks till Stark told him to stop.

"Alright, that's enough for the day," Stark said, studying his hologram intently. "I can use this. Come by tomorrow afternoon. At two. We'll get you set up in the training area and you can learn how to use the repulsors."

"Yes sir," he agreed, and he headed towards the door.

"I'll show you where the training area is," Potts said quickly. "It's on the thirtieth floor, the communal level. You can use the direct elevator now, it comes out in the basement. If that's alright, Mr Stark?" she added, looking over to him.

"Of course, Miss Potts," Stark said, looking back at her and smiling slightly, in spite of the formal tone.

He followed Potts out of the room and over to the elevator. She really was very beautiful. And loyal too; here she was, doing her boss' bidding at this ungodly hour. He hoped Stark paid her well, that's all he could say.

"Okay," she said, as they walked out of the elevator. "The training area is over on your left here. Someone will be waiting for you tomorrow." She hesitated. "Listen, I'm sorry, but I really need to get back to him. Can you see yourself out? Just take the elevator straight down and out through the basement entrance. You can't go wrong."

"No problem," he nodded. "I'll maybe see you tomorrow?" He tried not to sound too hopeful.

"Almost certainly," she said. "Good luck, Major Shepherd."

He had a feeling he was going to need it.

He watched her head back to the elevator and smiled. Now at least he could look round this training area a little more.

* * *

Steve was absolutely exhausted. And listening to Hawkeye's gloomy play by play wasn't helping either. Yes, they'd had their butts handed to them. Did they really need to go over it again now? There would be plenty of time to discuss mistakes and tactics over the next few days. Right now he just wanted to get their injured team mates taken care of, and then hopefully hit the sack himself.

None of them were badly injured, really. But Thor had some nasty burns and a concussion that was making him loopy and irritable, which was just the combination you wanted on someone who could summon lightning. And Natasha had a hairline fracture to her wrist, which Clint had said was retribution for her laughing at him earlier, and some cracked ribs that were obviously hurting her, no matter what she said.

The rest of them had mostly escaped with scrapes and bruises, plus Bruce was absolutely exhausted, even though the Hulk had regenerated all the damage done.

It wasn't a good result though. The truth was their victory had been more about the enemy's failures than their successes.

"And you know we had the bottleneck, we just couldn't drive them into it," Clint went on.

"Barton, quit it," Steve ordered tiredly, twisting round to look at him.

Clint was supporting Natasha, Steve and Bruce were half carrying Thor. The doctor had suggested that they all stay on the carrier at least till morning, but Thor had demanded home, Jane and poptarts, and at least the first of those had appealed to all of them.

"I'm just saying we were missing some aerial support," Clint insisted.

"We all know what we were missing," Natasha said, her Russian accent showing through. "Talking about it is not going to help."

"Maybe not, but we need to figure out what _will _help," Clint argued.

It wasn't like he didn't have a point. He did, and they all knew that. It was just knowing what they were supposed to do about it. The six of them worked fantastically as a unit, and they worked just fine in groups of two or three. But as a five...as a five it felt like they were a six with a hole in it. This fight today, Steve had almost found himself yelling at Iron Man for not clearing away the Hydra super soldiers from above them, and he'd seen Hulk punch a soldier up into the air and then roar in mournful confusion when Iron Man wasn't there to blast them.

For the most divisive member of any group he was a part of, this group sure missed Tony.

He sighed. "Look, tomorrow we'll start going over new tactics and battle plans, okay?"

"It is tomorrow," Bruce said quietly.

Good point. He looked at Clint. "Let's just get some rest. We all need it." He glanced meaningfully towards Natasha and Clint nodded slowly.

"Where is Jane Foster?" Thor demanded suddenly.

"She's flying up from New Mexico," Bruce reminded him soothingly the way he had the previous sixteen times. "It'll take her a few hours, but she'll be here."

Thor nodded, his brow furrowed.

"Okay, big guy, let's get you upstairs," Steve said encouragingly. They'd only stopped off on this floor to raid the infirmary for painkillers and dressings. After that they'd be heading upstairs and Clint would be looking after Natasha in her room and he and Bruce would take care of Thor, at least until Jane got here.

They were trudging towards the elevator when they suddenly heard a noise.

As one they froze. The only people authorised to be here were them plus Tony and Pepper, and it didn't seem likely it was Pepper.

He carefully left Thor supporting himself against a wall, signalling to him to stay back with Natasha, and he didn't care which of them thought they were guarding the other.

He, Clint and Bruce crept forwards. His shield was in his hand, there was an arrow in Clint's bow, Bruce's fist was clenched like he was ready to Hulk out at a moment's notice. Steve almost felt sorry for the intruder. Breaking into the Avengers Tower at the best of times? Not smart. Now, with all of them on edge and frustrated it sounded like the worst idea imaginable.

They heard the sound of shuffling feet. Sounded like the intruder was standing by the elevator. He exchanged nods with Clint and Bruce, then they charged round the corner, catching the man unawares. Steve slammed him into the wall, and a second later the guy had an arrow pointing right between his eyes.

"Okay," Steve said calmly, noticing that his captive was wearing a USAF major's uniform. "Let's talk about who you are and who sent you?"

"Major Harry Shepherd," the man gargled. "Director Fury sent me to see Stark."

"That's easily checked," Clint pointed out. "Natasha! Call SHIELD. Find out if they sent this loser."

And Steve wasn't going to let go until they found out. "Suppose we believe you? That doesn't explain why Fury sent you."

Shepherd tried to pry Steve's arm away his throat, like that was ever going to work. "I'm the new Iron Man," he rasped.

Steve's grip tightened reflexively, leaving Shepherd gasping for breath.

"You lie!" Thor thundered, his face dark and angry. "There is only one man of iron and that is Tony Stark."

"Tony doesn't give up his armour to anyone," Clint agreed softly, the tip of his arrow now resting on Shepherd's forehead. "And someone takes it from him over our cold, dead bodies. And just so you know? Some of us might be immortal."

Shepherd stared round at them, looking decidedly panicked. "It's the truth, I swear it," he said. "Stark's building me new armour."

"He's legitimate," Natasha announced shortly.

Steve let go and stood back, and they all turned round and stared at her.

"He's legitimate?" Steve repeated, stunned.

"The director was going to brief you and formally introduce me in the next few days," Shepherd said, massaging his throat. "I guess that's not necessary now. I have to say this isn't exactly how I was imagining meeting you." All at once he stood up straight and saluted. "Captain Rogers. Can I just say it's an honour. I'm looking forward to serving alongside you."

Steve returned the salute automatically.

Shepherd went on to nod at each of them in turn. "Dr Banner. Agent Barton. Agent Romanov." He hesitated for a second, as if uncertain how to keep up the formality. "...Thor. It's good to meet all of you, but I should be going. You're just back from an assignment. I'll leave you in peace, though I'm going to be here tomorrow, so perhaps I'll see you."

"Perhaps," Bruce said, and Steve was relieved because right now he didn't know what to say. "Goodnight, Major," he added as the elevator arrived.

The door slid closed behind him and the conversation exploded.

"He is _not_ Iron Man," Thor insisted."You cannot simply take a man's name and power and give it to another. It is not right."

"He's an airforce pilot," Natasha pointed out. "He had plenty of medals too."

"He might be a brave and worthy warrior, but that does not make him Iron Man," Thor argued fiercely.

Natasha shrugged. "We don't even know what he did to get the medals anyway."

"Find out," Steve told her. "I want everything Fury has on this Shepherd and more."

She smiled coldly. "Resorting to spying on our allies and investigating our team mates, Captain?"

He returned her gaze steadily. "He's not our team mate yet."

"Tony had his mind made up," Clint frowned darkly. "What do you think Fury said to convince him otherwise?"

Steve hesitated. "I don't think Fury had anything to do with it," he said.

By the look on his face, Bruce had come to the same conclusion. "That _idiot,_" he groaned.

Clint looked between them. "What?"

"I think Tony was watching us on television," Steve explained grimly.

"Right." Clint's jaw was clenched. "You mean we now look so incompetent that Tony figured he had to give up his armour in order to try and protect us?"

He shrugged. "I doubt that was the way he was thinking about it."

"Fantastic." Clint bit off the word. "And now that milksop gets to say he's the new Iron Man."

"Don't judge him because he's not Tony," Steve warned.

"By what other measure should we judge him?" Thor demanded. "He is not Tony Stark. He is an imposter."

"What's Tony thinking?" Clint asked helplessly. "Does he even understand that it's not the armour we need, it's him."

"Sentimental," Natasha said crisply.

"Factual," Clint corrected, swinging round to face her. "Unless you're going to argue that the armour was the only thing that the genius billionaire hero brought to this team?"

Natasha inclined her head, but said "You were the one who said we needed more aerial support."

"We do, but I meant..." Clint hesitated. "I didn't mean sticking some total stranger in Iron Man's armour, and carrying on like we know how to trust him." He stared at Natasha for a second, an expression of deep hurt visible on his face. "Widow...whose side are you on, anyway."

"I'm on our side," she said, almost gently. "We all are."

"We all supported Tony's decisions not to give Fury the armour," Bruce said quietly. "So maybe we need to support him now too."

"You agree with this?" Clint asked.

"No, I think it's a stupid idea," Bruce said without hesitation. "But I'm going to support Tony and I'm going to do everything to make sure the new guy feels welcome."

"Not calling him the new guy would probably help," Natasha said dryly.

"We need to make sure Shepherd fits in and gets up to speed," Steve agreed. "If he's going to be any use at all we need to be able to work with him." He looked directly at Clint and Thor. "Don't compare him to Tony. Remember, Tony Stark is many things. Replaceable isn't one of them. This is someone new and we need the help. Let's give him a chance to prove himself at least. Can you do that?" He looked at each of them in turn, waiting for the nod. Natasha definite, Bruce reluctant, Clint and Thor unhappy.

He had their agreement at least. This could save the team physically, but it might just rip them apart in every other way.

They dropped Clint and Natasha off at their floor and headed upstairs with Thor.

He hesitated outside the elevator, looking at Bruce. "You okay with him? I just want to..." He shrugged awkwardly.

"Check in with Tony?" Bruce nodded understandingly.

"Yes. Well. I need to get him to add Jane into the tower security," he pointed out. "Plus he'll want to know we're okay." He'd managed to snatch a few seconds to call Tony and tell him they were all safe but that was literally all he had been able to say. Certainly Tony couldn't have been able to discuss his plans with Steve even if he'd wanted to, which Steve seriously doubted. He wondered just when Tony _had _been planning on telling them.

"Right. We'll see you later," Bruce said.

Once back in the elevator, Steve turned to face the wall panel and spoke, feeling just as self conscious as he always did. "Uh, Jarvis? Are you there?" Even as he said it, he wondered just where else he thought the AI would be.

"Yes, Captain Rogers," Jarvis confirmed, and if Steve didn't know better he'd swear it sounded amused.

"Is Tony awake?" he asked.

"Mr Stark and Miss Potts are both still awake," Jarvis announced. "Shall I inform them that you wish to see them?"

"Please," he nodded politely. "Tell them I just want to check in, it can easily wait if need be."

There was a pause. "Mr Stark would be delighted to see you," Jarvis told him.

He grinned slightly at the phrasing. "That was Pepper, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir," Jarvis agreed primly.

Certainly it was Pepper who said warmly at him as he walked in. "Steve. I'm glad you're safe."

Tony looked up from the hologram he was working on. A new Iron Man suit. Shepherd's, Steve guessed. "How's Thor? And Natasha?"

"Natasha's fine," Steve reassured him. "She's banged up pretty bad, but she'll be up and around in no time." He winced slightly, remembering Tony wouldn't be. "Sorry."

Tony waved the apology away impatiently. "And Thor?"

"Some bad burns and a concussion. The doctors said if he was human the burns would leave scarring, but as it is they have no idea. He's pretty out of it though. He asked for Jane so we're flying her up here. Can you make sure she can get upstairs without being shot or whatever."

"Already done," Tony said easily. "Jarvis, track when Jane Foster's plane gets in and have Happy meet her." He turned back to Steve. "She's got access to the communal areas and Thor's room already. Thor asked me to add her months back."

Huh. He hadn't realised.

Tony pursed his lips. "Get yourself a steady beau and I'll do the same for her. Or him."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not gay, Tony."

"I've seen the video," Tony told him. "Musical theatre, stars and spangles...it paints a picture, you know, Cap."

"Uh huh. Stereotyping, are we? Which of us is the one stuck in the past again?" He grew serious. "You know, Thor was asking for his father when he first woke up."

"Odin? Not exactly an easy guy to get hold of," Tony commented.

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "This time it wound up not mattering, but next time..." He shrugged. "Maybe you could work on some sort of communicator between here and Asgard. You know. If you aren't too busy working on Major's Shepherd's armour."

There was silence. Tony waved the hologram into the ether.

"We met him downstairs," Steve explained. "He introduced himself."

"And?" Tony said quietly.

Steve shrugged. "He seemed a decent enough sort. It's going to take a lot more than just putting the armour on to make him an Avenger though. But we'll all make the effort if you want us to."

"Right," Tony said, sounding tired.

"_Do_ you want us to?" Steve pressed.

"It was my idea, wasn't it?" Tony said sharply.

That wasn't exactly an answer. "Tony...it's not too late to change your mind, you know," he tried. "If this is just because you're worried about us – we'll manage, I swear."

"I've made up my mind," Tony said shortly. "I want to do this."

Somehow, Steve wasn't convinced.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony had worked through dawn and had finally, with bad grace, agreed to get a few hours sleep before Shepherd came back. Pepper held his hand till he fell asleep, then she headed downstairs to the communal kitchen. Sometimes she just needed a break, even for ten minutes. It wasn't like she'd had any sleep either.

Truthfully, she wasn't sure what she thought about all this. There was a small, selfish part of her that was delighted at the thought of someone else being Iron Man, the same part that wished someone else had been Iron Man all along. And Shepherd seemed like a decent man. Certainly his military record was impressive, and he'd tolerated Tony's...Tonyness, more than a lot of people did. And Steve hadn't seemed to have any problem with him, though she had no idea what the others thought.

That was all the pluses. And they withered to nothing in the face of how self evidently unhappy this was making Tony. He said it was his idea, but he'd felt trapped into making the decision, and he was already drowning out the anger and misery by working too hard. It was one more thing wearing down on him, and right now Pepper wasn't sure just how much he could take.

Sighing as she walked into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Jane Foster already there, hunting through the cupboards. They'd never actually met, but Thor had shown her photos of his lady-love.

"Hi," she said, with as friendly a smile as she could hope to muster these days.

Jane was standing on tiptoes, reaching into the top cupboard. "Oh!"She leapt backwards, turning round quickly. "I was looking for peanut butter. Sorry."

They stood looking at each other in silence for a long second.

"I'm Pepper Potts," she said, breaking the awkward moment at last. "Thor's told me a lot about you. And I think we have some peanut butter..." She rummaged through the cupboard over the sink. "...here!" Triumphant, she held it out.

"Thank you!" Jane exclaimed, seizing it, and Pepper was amused to see her digging in spoon, like all the answers were to be found on the bottom of the jar. "Oh, God, I shouldn't be doing this in someone else's house, should I?" she asked guiltily after a moment.

"It's _fine,_" Pepper said firmly, pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting down heavily at the kitchen table. "How is Thor?"

"Sleeping," Jane said, joining her. "He's much more coherent now, and I can hardly see the bump on his head any more." Her hand tightened around the spoon. "I'm not used to seeing him hurt. I know what he does – I've seen him do it, but somehow, no matter how much I worry, deep down, I never really expected him to get seriously hurt. He always talks like he's invincible."

Just like Tony.

Something must have shown on her face, because Jane's eyes widened. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to - "

" - really, it's fine, Dr Foster," Pepper interrupted, hating the pity. "I know how difficult it is to sit and hope and watch."

"Call me Jane, please," Jane said quietly.

Pepper nodded. "Pepper." She smiled suddenly. "We should form a support group. Superhero Girlfriends Anonymous."

Jane laughed, the slightly hysterical laugh of someone who didn't care that the joke wasn't funny because she had to laugh or else cry. "I wasn't even watching. I didn't know anything about the attack. I was working. Thor had called me a few hours before, he was looking forward to movie night, and then I got caught up in analysing a new retrograde pattern and I never even heard until the phone call." She swallowed hard. "When I saw Agent Hill's number...I thought she was going to tell me Thor was _dead._"

"But he's going to be okay," Pepper reminded her softly.

"Yes," Jane agreed thankfully, her eyes briefly closed, taking another large spoonful of peanut butter.

Pepper turned her attention to her coffee. She remembered getting that phone call. Remembered Maria's hushed, gentle tone, remembered Happy leading her by the hand, bundling onto the plane, his comforting arm across her shoulder a contrast to the white noise buzzing through her head. If only her story ended in good news.

"Can I ask?" Jane asked awkwardly. "What's going on with this new Iron Man? Thor seemed very worked up about it."

"While Tony's out of action, SHIELD wanted someone else using the Iron Man armour," Pepper said woodenly. "Tony initially refused but agreed last night."

"Thor really seemed to hate the idea," Jane told her with a grimace.

That could only make things worse. She sighed. "It's Tony's decision," she said quietly.

Jane nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "I'll try and talk Thor round a little."

Pepper smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I just want as little stressing him as - " Her phone rang suddenly. She looked down and groaned internally. "Sorry. I need to take this," she said, smiling apologetically at Jane.

It was like she thought. An emergency that she absolutely had to go deal with right this moment. In this case Cordco was attempting to muscle out their communications division in Tulsa. This should have been on her radar long before now; lately all she seemed to do was fight fires. She drank her coffee quickly. "I need to go," she said regretfully. "If you need anything at all, just let Jarvis know and someone will be sent out go get it."

"I need to head back upstairs anyway," Jane said. "It was nice talking to you though, Pepper."

"Likewise," she said sincerely. "And welcome to Avengers Tower by the way."

Now she had to go tell Tony that she wasn't going to be there for him when Shepherd came back.

* * *

There was something about the sight of Shepherd waiting in the training room, already dressed in protective gear, bright eyed, eager, ready and on time, that set Tony's teeth on edge. Maybe it was the way he looked immaculate while Tony felt like something that had been buried in peat for five thousand years. He'd cut back his meds as far as he dared. He needed a clear head, and at least Shepherd couldn't see _him. _This was an audio only experience. He had Tony's voice, and Dummy and You on standby, and that would have to do him.

Didn't exactly help when practically the first thing out of Shepherd's mouth after the phony pleasantries was "Is Miss Potts not here?"

"She had to fly to Tulsa for a meeting," Tony said shortly, and he watched the disappointment flash across Shepherd's face. He clenched his fist tightly, resisting the urge to throw the guy out right now. He hadn't done anything, after all. "Alright, let's get this over with," he said abruptly. "Dummy?"

Dummy obligingly held out the repulsors, but when Shepherd went to take them, he rolled backwards a little, holding them out of reach, clicking and whirring reprovingly.

Tony didn't like anyone touching his stuff and his robots knew that. Either Dummy had difficulty dealing with the conflicting commands, or it was just being stubborn. At any rate, Tony clearly should be stepping in and resolving the problem.

Instead he watched, amused, as Shepherd lunged forwards and tried to snatch the repulsors away, and Dummy moved back a little further.

"Stark, can't you control your..._things_?_" _Shepherd demanded at last, exasperated.

"Uh, they're called _robots?_" Tony pointed out annoyingly. "Dummy, hand them over." Dummy whirred uncertainly. "Remember what I said about donating you to MIT," he warned, and Dummy immediately rolled forwards, and Shepherd grabbed the repulsors quickly.

"Wouldn't it be safer and more efficient to just get people to do this?" Shepherd asked nervously, as You rolled up, wielding the fire extinguisher.

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. "Robots are less bother. Now," he went on briskly. "That's the most up to date model of repulsor I have. They're the ones that will be fitted onto your suit, but since learning to use them will take a while, I figured it should be a good place to start. Now for these ones, the switch is located by your thumb..."

There was a familiar hum, and Shepherd was bodily thrown into the wall.

Tony watched impassively. "...But I'd suggest you don't touch it until they're secure and you've learned to modulate the power," he finished. "Of course, whatever works for you."

That wasn't the last time, Shepherd went flying into the wall of the ceiling. It was impossibly frustrating. Tony felt like Shepherd just wasn't _trying, _and as the afternoon wore on, without any sign that Shepherd was getting it, he could tell that he was getting progressively more condescending and snappish. Pain and exhaustion were wearing down on him.

After a particularly bad crash, You sprayed Shepherd with maybe a little more enthusiasm than the tiny spark really merited, and Shepherd snapped. "Will you quit it!" he shouted, aiming a kick at You.

"Kick my robot again and you'll be tossed out of here so fast it'll make your head spin," Tony promised, his voice carved from ice, as You scuttled backwards across the floor, followed closely by Dummy. "Now, are you going to start listening, or should I call Fury and ask him to send someone with a functioning hearing aid?"

"Fine," Shepherd snapped back, without even a hint of contrition. "Lets get this over with."

He called a halt after another two hours when Shepherd started slipping back from even the small progress he'd made.

"You might as well come over tomorrow," he said just before he switched off the feed from the training room. "I was going to have you work on some simulations, maybe even have a couple of bits of armour to fit. But I think we're going to be working on this for a while."

He ignored the look that Shepherd gave the camera, letting his head drop to the pillow and closing his eyes as the pain drilled through him.

"Now, Mr Stark, it's time for your physiotherapy," Zara said cheerfully as she walked in without knocking.

"Not today," he said, with a wince at the thought of trying to move. There was no way that was happening.

"You need to do your exercises every day," his own personal torturer chided.

"No," he said again, opening his eyes to look at her. "Tomorrow, but not today. I'm too tired."

She sighed. "Alright, then, but let me at least check your reactions." He nodded wearily, and she walked up and pulled the covers off him, leaving him feeling helpless and exposed. "Must be a weight off your mind to have that new Iron Man," she commented chattily as she worked. "It's certainly a relief to me...I feel much better knowing Iron Man is around."

He flinched, and started to glare her down, but stopped, sighing. What was the _point. _"Yeah," he said tiredly. "I'm sure. Nice job on not sounding like a spy, by the way. You can tell Fury I'm playing along."

"I'm a physiotherapist," she said, like she had a dozen times before. "Not a spy."

"Sure," he said uninterestedly. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

She shot him a sympathetic look as she left. "Try and get some rest, Mr Stark."

He didn't have time to rest. He had to go over the results from today's training session and see if there was anything he was missing, anyway he could fix the problem through engineering, and then he needed to carry on working on the design for Shepherd's armour, and at some point he had to check in with Pepper about Tulsa, and he'd really meant to check over Jarvis' critical systems, because he normally did that once a month and that hadn't exactly been an option...

He shut his eyes again, trying to block the world out.

* * *

Steve had asked Jarvis to let him know when Tony was finished with Major Shepherd for the day. Time for Phase One of Operation Please-Let-This-Be-The-Right-Thing-To-Do to get underway. He walked into the changing room, just as Shepherd was finished getting changed. Immediately he could tell by the disgruntled expression on Shepherd's face, and the force with which a towel came sailing past his head to land in the laundry chute, that things hadn't gone well.

Shepherd was staring at him, clearly mortified to have thrown a dirty towel at Captain America. "Oh, Captain Rogers. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't see you there."

"Don't worry about it," Steve said easily. "And please. Call me Steve. Round here we mostly stick to first names."

"Of course," Shepherd said, smiling. "And I'm Harry." He hesitated. "How's Thor doing? And Agent Romanov?"

He couldn't help but smile approvingly at the question. Good to know that in spite of the evident hero worship, Shepherd didn't think they were invincible. "They're both doing okay," he said reassuringly. He'd been checking regularly, and Natasha was now feeling better enough to throw something at him. Which was usually a good sign. "So, how did it go today?" he asked.

The tension visibly increased. "Fine," Shepherd said shortly.

He raised an eyebrow and said nothing, waiting patiently.

"There were a few difficulties, but nothing I can't handle," Shepherd said instead. "I _will _get it, I swear."

"Good," Steve said, but that wasn't all of it. He sighed, feeling like a traitor. "I know Tony can be difficult - "

" - or impossible," Shepherd said, grinning brightly like he was trying to convince the world it was a joke.

"That bad, huh?" Steve said sympathetically.

"I'm not complaining," Shepherd assured him. "But it just like he expects me to understand everything he says, and he acts like I'm stupid when I _can't._"

Steve felt a stab of sympathy. He'd been on the receiving end of that look before. And he _knew _that Tony didn't mean to make him feel dumb. Just that Tony genuinely didn't understand how anyone couldn't understand what he was talking about and he wasn't that hot on explaining either.

"Got a few bruises, huh?" he asked with a sheepish smile. "We've all tried it at some point. I hit the ceiling so hard we had to get the floor above retiled. And Natasha managed to break Clint's bow by firing a repulsor when she was trying to hover."

Shepherd grinned slightly. "Nice to know my incompetence is in good company."

"That's the spirit," he said, cheerfully clapping him on the shoulder. "Listen, do you want to come out for a drink with me, Natasha and Bruce? Once your armour's finished we'll be training together – I'd prefer to get to know you before I'm trying to punch you."

"That sounds great, thanks," Shepherd said, brightening immensely. "I just gotta go make a phone call – I'll meet you outside?"

"Sure thing," Steve nodded.

"He didn't tell you he kicked one of Tony's robots," a voice from nowhere commented as the changing room door swung behind Shepherd.

Coolly, Steve lifted his eyes to the air vent and regarded Clint. "And I didn't tell him he was being spied on," he answered simply. "Seems fair, doesn't it?" He sighed. "I thought we agreed to give Shepherd a chance?"

"I'm giving him a chance," Clint said promptly. "I'm just not automatically trusting him. I don't like new people just walking in like they own the place."

"He's hardly - " Steven protested, but Clint had vanished. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. It had been a while since he'd seen Clint that on edge. Not since the early days after Loki, when he'd skulked around the tower like a ghost.

Shepherd was already a poor substitution for Tony. If they lost Clint as well as result of this...the team could be falling apart at the seams.

* * *

The night out went well enough. They had a couple of beers and swapped jokes and stories. Nothing too heavy, nothing too personal, but enough that Steve was convinced that Shepherd was a good guy; one that in other circumstances he'd have been pleased to have in his unit. He could see Bruce start to relax a little as well, and Natasha...well, she was an enigma. He really had no idea what she thought of Shepherd, but then she hadn't seemed to have an objection to bringing him in, so that was probably okay.

They'd made their excuses early on though – Natasha was still technically on the injured list, and Bruce didn't like to be out when people started getting drunker. As for Steve, honestly, he just preferred nights in. And that was something he tried to keep to himself – it made him sound like he was from the forties, only he'd got here the slow way.

As was his habit these days, he headed upstairs when he got in to check in with Tony. Apart from wanting to see him, he needed to talk to him about Shepherd as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was to feel like he was going behind Tony's back.

"We need to talk," he began seriously as he walked in, and he stopped, distracted. "I didn't know you played chess," he said, surprised.

The room was dark and there was a game of chess in progress on the screen above Tony's bed. Steve guessed he was probably playing against Jarvis.

"Obie taught me," Tony said, not looking round, and he sounded unbelievably tired.

"Obadiah Stane?" Steve asked incredulously. He'd heard the story, after all. Stane had tried to have Tony killed, and when that hadn't worked, he'd taken a more personal approach. It was a bit of a leap from that to chess teacher.

Tony nodded. "On my fourth birthday. It was just after I'd built my first circuit board. I had this stupid idea that if I could help Dad with his work, he'd stay." He laughed shortly. "He just told me that my tack soldering was hopeless and the board would burn out after barely a month heavy use. And then he left on his latest expedition. Out searching for..." He blinked and looked at Steve for the first time, and Steve felt stupidly guilty, knowing exactly who Howard had been searching for. "He left. And Mom had some society benefit for disadvantaged children. So I was left with the nanny, who hated me. Not that she didn't have good reason..." he added with a slight, distant smile. "I was an awful child. Sure that won't surprise you to hear. Obie was over at the house for some reason...Dad had just taken him on, and I think he was supposed to be on a conference call, but I guess he felt sorry for me. We ate birthday cake and he taught me how to play chess. Later I showed him the board I'd made and then the next day he showed it to the papers. They ran a story calling me a prodigy. Guess he thought it was good publicity for the company, but I just remember..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Knight to Queen Four," he said, and the piece on the board above moved silently.

"I never really thought of him knowing you when you were a kid," Steve said softly, not certain what he could say, not used to Tony actually being in any kind of sharing mood. The few scraps of his early life Tony had divulged before had left him struggling to match the Howard he'd known with the one who'd callously neglected his son.

"Uh huh," Tony nodded flippantly. "And thirty years later he decides I'm not worth keeping around. And then I kill him."

Steve winced, and opened his mouth, searching for the right words, searching for _anything _he could say. He couldn't imagine that sort of betrayal.

"Don't," Tony said, infinitely weary. "Just don't."

He didn't. He sat down on the chair by Tony's bed.

"I took Shepherd out for a drink," he said quietly after a long moment of silence.

"Good," Tony said, not looking at him. "Finding yourself a steady beau, just like I said."

"Tony..." he sighed, and he could have punched himself for the reproving tone. This was Tony trying to drive him away. He needed to be certain Tony understood. "It's just practicality. If we're going to work together, we need to know each other."

"I know that," Tony said dismissively. "It makes perfect sense, don't worry. And you're not exactly bringing me news here. I already knew, and even if I hadn't known, Clint told me. And Thor and Jane mentioned when they stopped by. She's smart, by the way. She was talking about extradimensional space...I like her. I was thinking about getting her a lab. Is it weird getting another guy's girlfriend a lab?"

"Anyone ever tell you you're a master at changing the subject?" he asked dryly.

"Few times," Tony said, turning his head and meeting Steve's eyes. "Look, I don't want to talk about Shepherd, alright? I'm doing everything I should be, aren't I? I'm doing the right thing, so why are you here?"

"Because you're lying alone in the dark playing chess against your AI?" Steve suggested before he could help himself. "I'm worried."

"I'm fine," Tony said, with the smile that he wheeled out at press conferences when things were bad.

He stood up and turned to face the window, like he was stretching his legs. "I can tell you the names of every man I served with," he said softly, out of nowhere. "I can tell you what their favourite movie was, what brand cigarettes they liked, what they said when they got letters from home. I can tell you how they died." He swallowed hard, suddenly struggling against the memory. "I carry that with me all the time. I could never find a friend...'not worth keeping around'."

For a time there was silence and he listened to Tony's ragged breathing, not looking, knowing that if he pushed even a fraction, Tony would shut him out.

"That was shamelessly sentimental," Tony said at last, his voice steady.

He smiled gladly. "Maybe. You want to play chess?" he asked, turning round and he was rewarded with an honest smile.

"With you?" Tony studied him a second. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Want to make it interesting?" he offered. "A dollar says that you beat me in ten moves."

Tony grinned. "Ten dollars says I can beat you in five."

"You're on," he smiled.

"Thanks Steve," Tony mumbled later as he was leaving, so softly that only someone with super enhanced hearing could possibly have heard.


End file.

Avengers, Friendship, Hurt-Comfort