Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was over. Finally. Tony lowered himself onto his bed, pressing his hand flat to his chest. A few broken and bruised ribs were the least of his problems, honestly. Ross was up his ass with a vengeance, Rogers and Barnes were in the wind, the Raft had just been broken into (by Captain Fucking America, his mind supplied). Rhodey was hurt (because of you, this is all because of you, Tony).

"I need a drink," he said aloud, looking around the room for a bottle, any bottle. Even that 60 year old Macallan Lalique that his dad had purchased back in the day and saved for when he finally found Captain America.

"Boss, I don't recommend you drinking with a concussion."

Oh yeah. He had a concussion. And a black eye, sprained wrist, minor frostbite to the fingers on his left hand.

"When has that ever stopped me, FRI?" he asked dryly. He was half tempted to laugh, but he knew it would come out closer to a sob and then he'd be well and truly fucked. Nope. Better to keep that shit locked down tighter than Barnes' grip on his arc reactor...

"Do you think he knew? That it wasn't in my chest any more?"

"Your reactor, Boss?"

"He killed my parents and he tried to fucking kill me, FRI." Tony took a deep shuddering breath. "He...he fucking choked my mother to death. I don't care what he did to Howard. I haven't given a good Goddamn about him for decades, but Mom..."

He shot to his feet, stumbled and had to catch himself on the nightstand. "I'm not drunk enough for this."

"Boss..."

"Blackout protocol. Nobody in, send all my calls to voicemail." The AI complied, and Tony realized with a painful squeeze of his heart how much he missed JARVIS. "Not that I'm expecting any calls."

He found a bottle of twenty year old Michter's and made it halfway to the bottom before he remembered where his dad had said he'd hidden the Macallan. Of course, it was across the fucking country. "This'll have to do."

"Boss?"

"Take the evening off, FRI. Calculate how long it'll take me to finish repairing my armor. Or how long it'll be til Ross busts down the door and hauls my ass off to the Raft."

Tony was dead fucking tired (when was the last time you slept? Before your ex beat your ass with the help of his new boyfriend?) but he knew that it was going to be a bad night...or rather, afternoon, he realized, glancing at the grandfather clock across the hall. It had been Howard's...

Before he could stop himself, he threw the mostly empty bottle at it, shattering the glass face. "Fuck you!" he screamed, grabbing the weathered wood and pushing it to the ground. It gave an utterly satisfying crack and one of the legs snapped off. (It's an antique, worth more than you are, boy...) He kicked at it, not caring how it made his leg ache.

"Fuck you, Howard. You deserved it, but Mom didn't. You fucking got her killed, you fucking bastard!"

His foot went through the glass that covered the movement and gears and he felt the sharp edges bite into his skin. "Fuck. Fuck!"

"Boss, are you okay?"

"I'm just fucking great, FRI. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Do you want me to call someone?" the AI offered.

"Fuck no. I can take care of this." He limped to the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood on the hardwood floor behind him before he rolled up the leg of his slacks. Two deep slashes over his shin, needing at least four stitches each, but not life-threatening. "It'll hold til morning. Or whenever."

Strangely enough, Tony felt a little light-headed as he turned the hot water tap on. "What the fuck?" He'd seen enough of his own blood over the years that this couldn't be bothering him. (You aren't dying. You don't get out that easy. You're just having a panic attack like a little bitch.)

He slid to the floor, fumbling for a towel (it's a white towel! There's no getting the blood out of it, dumbass) and pressing it to his legs. Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe his body was just saying fuck it, because his eyes closed and he lost consciousness.

Water. There was water running nearby, dripping onto the floor. It was touching his foot, soaking through his shoes, and he flinched.

"What, Stark? Afraid of a little water?" a heavily accented voice asked. "If you say yes, this will all stop."

Tony shook his head once, twice. He closed his eyes as rough hands grabbed his arms, his hair, the back of his neck. He had no time to take a breath, to prepare himself as his head was shoved under the water. It was oily and warm on his skin, and he tried to pretend that he was anywhere else, even back in the mansion with Howard...

They pulled him out of the water, let him start to breathe, only to shove him under again. Water gushed into his mouth, down his throat and he started to choke. What little air he had in his lungs was gone and he tried desperately to get free. Dimly, he heard laughter as hands tightened their grips, keeping him in place. (Let them kill you. Then it'll be over and you won't be such a fucking disgrace...)

His eyes opened and he saw a man, a single man, standing over him. His blue eyes glittered coldly as he regarded Tony without any expression, with nothing in his gaze but contempt. He knelt, reaching out for the genius's throat with a silver hand....

Consciousness hit like a freight train and Tony reached out without thinking. "Oh, God, Steve...I'm..."

(You aren't with Stevie anymore. You chased him off, just like you did Pepper and every other good thing in your life. He's cozied up to his new, improved boyfriend. You know, the one who killed your parents?)

"Oh God," he repeated, covering his face. The faucet was running...that had to have been what set off the nightmare. He hadn't dreamed of Afghanistan in months. And seeing Barnes there... (He could have been there. Hydra could've been the puppet master for the Ten Rings. Maybe Bucky's the one who told them to...)

"Stopitstopitstopit." He dug his fingers into the blood-soaked towel, into the cuts, and his mind instantly sharpened. "Not real. That wasn't real. He wasn't there. He wasn't, hewasn't."

(Are you trying to convince yourself? You're a fucking idiot. You can't tell what's real and not half of the time. You were too busy fucking detoxing in that cave to do anything to escape for months...)

"STOP!"

"Boss, I called Ms. Potts."

"NO! Don't you fucking dare, FRI!"

"I left a message on her voicemail five minutes, three seconds ago, alerting her to your current condition."

"Jesus fucking Christ, I'm fine!" The note of histeria in his voice caught him off guard and...shit. "I just had a bad dream."

"Your blood alcohol level is point one nine and you've lost nearly a pint of blood. I'm getting you help, boss."

"Bull shit you are. Full lockdown. Override: Stark, Anthony Edward. Sorry, FRI, but I've got this."

(You got nothing. No friends, no family, no hope...)

"I got myself, and that's enough. It's gotten me by this far," Tony muttered bitterly. "This far, no farther."

(What you do have is choices. You can get back on your feet, stitch yourself up and face the fucking music. Ross is gonna come for you no matter what and if you aren't prepared, he will destroy you and take SI down too. Or you can lay here and bleed out. Or go get another bottle of bourbon and drink yourself to death, like Howard Stark said you would. Do you want him to win?)

"I don't know. It doesn't really matter. He's dead and I got the last laugh."

For once, the voice in his head fell silent, letting him luxuriate in peace. Was this what death was like? Quiet and still and better than anything he'd ever experienced ? More likely, it would be hellfire and brimstone for him, except he didn't believe in hell. Or heaven. He did, however, believe in leaving a legacy, making the world a better place before he took his last bow and exited the stage.

No matter how he looked at it, the world would be better without him. No risk of another Ultron, another war diving the world's heroes. No more Iron Man...except Rhodey would take over, once he got better.

"I have to finish helping him." With that, Tony forced himself to his knees and reached under the sink for a first aid kit. "FRI, I'm cancelling the lockdown. When Pepper calls back, put her through. I gotta help Rhodey."

(And then? Then are you going to remove yourself from the equation?)

"We'll see." Stashed next to the first aid kit was a dusty bottle of booze. Wiping off the label, Tony let out a shout. "Fuck you, Howard. This's waited long enough to be drank." He twisted off the cap and took took a shot of sixty year old bourbon. "Fuck you. Lying bastard. Here's to me not fucking anything else up. Hope you're proud."

Chapter Text

It was entirely too bright when Tony opened his eyes. His head was pounding and his stomach hurt and fuck, he felt like shit. Last thing he remembered was falling asleep (or passing out) in his workshop mid-thought; he was pretty sure he'd been working on either improvements to the War Machine armor, or nerve implants to help Rhodey walk again. He reached out, half expecting his fingers to find Steve at his side, before flinching as memories of Siberia came rushing back. 

"FRI, dim the lights."

Nothing.

He tried again. "FRI, dim the lights." Still nothing. "Goddamn it, FRI, I said you could take the evening off, not the whole night."

Still nothing.

"I swear, I'm going to rewrite your coding..."

"Calm down, Tones."

"Honey bear, I'm calm." He didn't have to force a smile when he heard the voice of his best friend and wingman (but not sidekick. Never that. He's the best part of your life and you'd better not fuck that up any more than you already have.)

The lights finally dimmed and Tony forced himself to open his eyes. The light fixtures were wrong. Fluorescent and humming like a pissed-off hive of hornets and flickering every so slightly. He hated those lights and had argued with the architect he'd teamed up with to build Stark Tower (Avengers Tower now, not that there's a team left to live there, after you drove them all away. Who's gonna save Earth now? What with 'Earth's mightiest heroes scattered to the four winds) who had insisted that fluorescent lights were the way to go. But of course the billionaire had gotten his way. (Getting off track there, aren't you. You're lacking focus. Maybe that's why Steve left?)

Everything clicked into place- the too-bright lights, the harsh and clean smell unlike anything in his tower, the absence of his A.I.... (You fucked up. You've really fucked up. I thought you decided not to die, at least at this point in time. You royally fucked up yet again and look where you are. You hurt Rhodey. Can't you hear how disappointed he is in you? Just like everyone else: your father, Pepper, Obie, Steve...)

"Oh, shit."

"'Oh shit' is right. You promised to tell me if you got bad again." Rhodey's voice cracked, raw emotion running under his words. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Tony..."

"I don't know what happened," he interrupted, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. He brought on hand up to rest on the scar from his arc reactor, pressed his fingers into the indentation that even reconstructive surgery couldn't completely correct. "I was working on something for you and I think I fell asleep."

"You had some schematics pulled up when I found you," his best friend said carefully. "I think it was some sort of nanobot."

"Oh, yeah! Nanites that can go in and fix your spine. Or rather, take the place of the damaged nerves and spinal cord and give you a better chance of walking." He sat up, or at least tried to; his head immediately started spinning and he sunk back down flat on his back.

"Do you want me to call the nurse?"

"I'm fine," Tony snapped, pressing his hands over his eyes.

"No, you fucking aren't," Rhodey shot back. "When they brought you in, your BAC was point two seven. You could've fucking died! You had a seizure in the ambulance on the way over. When I found you, your lips were blue and you were so cold and I didn't think you were even breathing at first. I thought I lost you." He punched the armrest of his wheelchair, eyes wide and gleaming in the unforgiving light.

Tony couldn't say anything to that. He listened as the heart monitor beeped faster and faster, the ache in his chest growing. A tingle started in the fingertips of his left arm and raced up towards his elbow. He opened and closed his fist, wondering absently if he was having a heart attack. (Probably. What a way for Tony Stark to go out. You survived shrapnel in the chest and a surgery without anesthesia and Extremis, but you couldn't take a little stress. You always had a weak heart, in all the ways that matter. Stark men are made of iron, but even iron rusts and will break if too much pressure is put on it.)

A warm hand slipped into his. "I'm not mad at you, Tones. I just want to know if you were trying to...to..."

"Kill myself," Tony finished hoarsely, meeting his best friend's eyes for the first time since he woke up.

"Is this about the Accords? Or Ultron? What happened in Siberia, Tones? You know you can tell me anything."

(Yeah, tell him. Tell him how Stevie broke your reactor and your heart and left you there to possibly freeze to death. Tell him about how B- no, the Winter Soldier, who happens to share the same face as Steve's new boy-toy, killed your parents. Tell him how Steve has known for God knows how long, and never thought it important enough to tell you.)

"Tony, please."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, I swear," he said firmly, pleased at how level his voice was. (You're a damn good liar. Half the time, you don't even know if you're lying. You give the Black Widow a run for her money.) "I promise. I just got carried away drinking."

"Where did the cuts on your leg come from?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition, so no, this can't be it."

They grinned at each other, briefly forgetting the circumstances that had brought them to the hospital. "You know Howard's fancy clock?"

"The one in the hall that's worth twenty grand?"

"Well, it was worth that. I may have done some re-calibration to the movement."

"With your foot."

"Yeah. I was drunk; it was there, taunting me."

Rhodey shook his head, still smiling, which Tony took as a good sign. "I'm not sure that an inanimate object can taunt you, but okay. Whatever you say." They fell into a companionable silence; the genius stared at their entwined hands, tracing his thumb over his best friend's knuckles.

Honestly, Tony sometimes wished that he'd fallen for Rhodey. Not that they would've ended up together, seeing as how Rhodey wasn't gay or bi, but he could've lived with pining after his best friend. Unrequited love and all of that bullshit. (Oh, come on. Even if he was gay he'd never fall for someone as wrecked as you. He's already deep enough in your shit as it is. Would you really want to draw him farther into your shitstorm of a life?)

"You're too quiet. What're you thinking about?"

"Does the media know about this?"

"Always concerned with your public image, huh." Though Rhodey's words were joking, his tone was anything but.

"Just don't want stocks to take another forty point dive. You and I both know how pissed Pepper would be about that."

(Where is Pepper? Probably couldn't handle dealing with you right now. She has enough on her plate, what with her and Happy getting engaged and planning a wedding. You probably won't even get invited. You don't deserve an invite, at any rate. And what would you do if you did get one? Show up and drink entirely too much and probably try to kiss her.)

"You aren't on the news, if that's what you're wondering. If the reporters do come sniffing around, I'll tell em that you're having some heart issues related to stress. That work for you?"

"Yeah, of course." He shook his head slightly from side to side, trying to clear the last cobwebs out of his mind. Being drugged down was generally something he hated, at least after coming home from Afghanistan. His mind was running entirely too slow and he felt like he was missing an important piece of the picture.

"Tones, I'm gonna say something and I want you to listen. I need to get this off my chest, and I think you need to hear it, alright?"

"Honey bear..." He rolled his eyes at Rhodey's serious tone and his heart seemed to skip a beat. (This can't be good. You've really fucked up. He's probably going to have you committed.)

"You can't keep doing this to yourself. This whole lone wolf bullshit. You got people who care about you. Me and Pepper, at the very least. We'd do anything to help you. You know you can call me no matter what time it is. I just...I can't...Tony, when FRIDAY called me, I panicked. I thought that this was it. I thought I lost you. And I can't handle that.

"I nearly lost you in college and again in Afghanistan and when your mansion got blow to hell. Not to even mention the palladium. I know you're blaming yourself for a lot of shit that went down. Ultron wasn't your fault; you set out with good intentions. I can see that, even if some other assholes can't. You and I both know that the Accords are what's best for the Avengers. We do need accountability. It's not your fault that Steve couldn't see that. You tried your best."

"I had to try to bring him around before Ross sent someone else after him," Tony stated flatly. "If he'd been killed..."

"Does Ross know about you and Rogers?"

He laughed. "Seriously? You think I want to get sent to the Raft?"

(What if one of the others told him about you two? Clint could've let it slip. Or Wanda. Or Sam. They all hate you.)

The dull ache in his chest was back.

Rhodey raised his free hand, palm out, in a placating gesture. "I'm just asking. You know I'm not going to just let him come and take you, right?"

Squeezing his best friend's hand even tighter, Tony levered himself up on his elbow. "You are not getting yourself taken to the Raft, you hear me? You need to concentrate on getting better."

"So do you," Rhodey replied earnestly.

"I'm sorry, honey bear."

"You don't have to apologize for anything, Tones."

"You know what I need?" Tony asked suddenly, desperate for a change of topic. "Coffee. I need about five cups of coffee and then I'll be ready."

This time, it was Rhodey who rolled his eyes. "I'll go ask the nurse if you can have any." He wheeled himself to the door, glancing back over his shoulder as he turned the doorknob. "I'll be right back."

As the door closed behind his best friend, Tony let himself sag back into the uncomfortable, far-too-flat pillow. (He might not come back. Ross could have twenty guys out there armed to the teeth, and what shape is Rhodey in to fight them? He's in a damn wheelchair because of you and your stupid notion that you could change Steve's mind. How many more people have to suffer because of your incompetence? Howard was right...)

"Shut. Up," he hissed under his breath.

Rhodey burst back through the door, rolling himself back to Tony's bedside. "Turn on the tv."

"Where's my coffee?"

"Fuck the coffee. Just turn the tv on." He looked shaken, even a little frightened. "Go to a news channel."

The set was already tuned to CNN. "What's going on, Rhodey? You're freaking me out."

A blonde news anchor in a sloppily tailored suit was shuffling through a stack of papers on his desking, looking as flustered as Rhodey did. "The story is still developing and we'll keep you updated as we know more."

The picture switched to a grainy, low-resolution shot of Times Square. "This footage is from a security camera," the anchor reported, "located across the street from where the suspect was spotted. We have a team on route..." He paused, held his hand up to his ear. "Here's a better shot from a traffic camera.

"Zooming in, you can see clearly a person who appears to be none other than James Buchanan Barnes, a known agent, excuse me, former agent of Hydra and accused of the horrifying Bucharest bombing. Police and S.W.A.T. teams are converging on his last known location. Traffic is being rerouted to avoid civilian casualties, should he be planning another bombing."

"What in the hell is he doing here?" Rhodey demanded when Tony muted the television.

"He's definitely not coming here to apologize," the genius muttered under his breath.

"For what?"

"Wrecking my suit. Tearing the reactor out and..." At the horrified and absolutely pissed off look on his best friend's face, Tony realized that he hadn't told him about that particular incident yet. "Which is no big. I'm okay."

"I'm going to go make some calls. I'll be right outside your door. If anything happens, yell for me. I've still got some connections in the D.o.D. and I'll get some guys out here pronto to keep you safe."

Tony just shrugged and nodded, and that worried Rhodey more than if he'd protested vehemently.

(He's coming for you. He's coming for you. He's coming for you.)

Chapter Text

Rhodey wheeled into the room with a backpack on his lap. "I told you to pack a bugout bag just in case shit hit the fan," he chided. "I think I got everything you asked for."

"That's why I told you to make a list, honey bear. You're getting old and your memory just isn't what it used to be."

"You're one to talk, Mr Stank. Should I page your doctor and have him grab a diaper for you, because..."

"Ha, ha. I was hoping you forgot about that."

"Not likely, even with my failing memory. I'm always looking for new material to give you shit about."

Tony shook his head and raised his hands to his temples. His head was pounding and he felt more than a little nauseous. (Good old alcohol withdrawal. What is this, the fifth time you've pushed yourself this far? One of these days you're going to go too far and fry your liver. Or gain enough liquid courage to swan dive out a window.)

"Your head hurt?" his friend asked with uncharacteristic gentleness. 

"That and my chest and my arm," Tony answered honestly. 

"You gonna call the nurse?"

"It's not that bad."

"You're not that great of a liar, Tones. I'll go grab a nurse..."

"I'm pretty sure they'd object to being grabbed, even by a handsome older fellow like you. Then you'd end up in jail and I'd have to bail you out..."

Rhodey let him ramble as he started for the door. 

"No. Please...Don't leave me alone." (God, you are such a whiny brat. Abandonment issues much?)

The plaintive note in Tony's voice made Rhodey turn around instantly and push himself right up against the hospital bed. He grabbed his friend's hand in a tight grip, tugging at his arm so that it lay at his side. "I'm right here, Tones.  I won't go anywhere. Promise."

"Thanks." He meant to add 'You don't know how much this means to me. You're my best friend, maybe my only friend, and I fucking love you. You've always been here for me and I don't know where I'd be without you' but of course the words caught somewhere between his brain and his mouth. He hoped that somehow Rhodey could feel his unspoken gratitude. 

"I got your StarkPad here, whenever you're feeling up to using it."

"Hand it over. Gimme." He held out his free hand towards Rhodey, wiggling his fingers. 

The former soldier let out an amused sigh as he unzipped the backpack. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Sure I'm sure." His smile felt forced even to himself, but it was the best he could do with what he had to work with. 

"I'll let you have this if you push that call button."

"Are you serious?" Tony lunged for the tech, but Rhodey rolled himself just out of reach. "You've got to be kidding me right now."

"I'm not," Rhodey said, unimpressed with his efforts. 

"Fine." He elbowed the button, somehow managing to drop his bed several inches in the process. "There. Are you happy?" 

"I won't be happy until you're better." 

(He just set the bar far too high for you to reach. If you never get better, you're going to break his heart. That'll be your legacy.)

Rhodey tossed the tablet underhand onto Tony's lap. "Jesus! Be careful!"

His friend had an odd expression on his face. But as soon as he logged onto the tablet, he forgot everything except the pounding in his head. "Got the schematics on here?" Tony muttered to himself absently. "Yes. Good. God bless FRI. Not bad. Some of the math is screwy but I was blackout drunk so I didn't expect anything else..."

"Tones. I need to ask you about this."

"Huh? Yeah, okay. I got your new tech pulled up on here, actually." He looked up, only to see Rhodey holding a flip phone, the phone.

The StarkPad fell out of his hands, sliding between the uncomfortable mattress and bed frame and impacting the floor with the sound of the screen shattering. 

(How much does he know? I assumed that you wouldn't be surprised he asked about it since you told him three times to make sure he grabbed it. Stop being so pathetic.)

"Tony, you haven't had a flip phone since MIT, and then only for three months before you designed something better."

(He has to know who it's from. You should've thrown it away. Sentimentality is weaknesses. You would've ended up calling the only number on there eventually. What if you hadn't gotten an answer? What if you had? What...)

Rhodey's voice broke through, momentarily grounding him. "Did Steve give this to you?"

A tiny gasp escaped Tony's mouth before he could stop it. His heart gave a painful jump; it felt like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest. 

(It's trying to escape. Just like everyone has ran away from you. It wants to leave before you can damage it more, just like Steve.)

"Tones, hey man."

Tony raised his gaze to Rhodey, his breath harsh in his ears. 

"You don't have to talk about it right now. But I can't help you if you don't tell me what exactly happened in Siberia." 

The door swung open, admitting a thin nurse in ill-fitting scrubs. Tony instantly felt relieved; the man was the opposite of threatening and now he had an excuse not to look at Rhodey. 

"Mr Stark, sir, sorry about your wait. We're understaffed right now," the young man apologized nervously, holding a small tray in front of him like a shield (you can't even think that word without picturing him, without seeing him beating the shit out of you and feeling your armor crack around you.)

"The doctor prescribed you some medication..."

"What exactly are you going to give him?" Rhodey interrupted smoothly. 

"Um, let's see...they have Mr Stark on vitamins, low grade painkillers, and a sedative."

"I don't need a sedative," Tony stated flatly. 

"Um, I can talk to your doctor. But it's to help with the withdrawal effects you're suffering from..."

"I've dried out before without any help from meds and I'm sure I can do it again." He ignored the sidelong glance that Rhodey cast his way. 

"I'll have the doctor see you as soon as he's free, Mr Stark. There's options to manage the symptoms without resorting to medication." With that, the nurse fled the room. 

Rhodey opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by his phone ringing. Glancing down at the screen, he said, "I gotta take this."

(It's probably about Barnes. If the authorities found out anything, Rhodey would be one of the first to know. Not that he could save you from a homicidal assassin.)

"That's an oxymoron," Tony murmured. 

"What is?" 

"Nothing. What was that phone call about?" he countered. 

"Nothing."

"Isn't it about time for your therapy?" Tony pulled up his most recent memory of Rhodey's schedule in his mind, confirming his thoughts. 

"I canceled it for today. You need me here."

"No. You need to go."

"Tones, it can wait."

"No, honey bear," he said firmly. "I can't have holding up your recovery on my conscience. Go."

"Are you sure?" Rhodey looked anything but convinced, but he seemed to want to leave, at least to Tony's eyes. 

"Go on. Get out of here. Shoo fly." 

"Okay. I'll have my phone with me the whole time and if you need anything, you call me. If you see a suspicious shadow, you call me. If you..."

"Stop being a helicopter mom," he joked. "I got to grow up sometime."

"I'll be back in three hours. Maybe four, tops."

"I won't be waiting up for you."

Rhodey finally laughed when Tony blew a kiss toward him. 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind his friend, he let himself sag back against the lumpy pillows. 

(All alone again. What happens if six hours go by and he isn't back? What if you call twelve times and he never answers? What if he gets grabbed or killed out in the hall, before he even makes it out of the hospital? More guilt to add on to that truly impressive stack you've collected since the day you were born.)

"Stop."

(Let's start from the bottom. Your mom became depressed after you were born, which drove her to drinking and those fun pills she used to take.)

"Stop it."

(And Howard...where can we even begin? With you not measuring up in any way. You're smart, but not smart enough. You're no Captain America and he knew it. And speaking of the star spangled hero...)

A soft knock on the door pulled Tony from his painful reverie. "C'mon in," he called out, startled by how hoarse his voice was. "I got my pants on this time."

The most ripped nurse he had ever had the chance to see stepped in. "Evening, sir," he said with an odd air of formality, smiling at Tony with perfect teeth. A cold ball of dread settled in his stomach. 

He looked the nurse up and down, sure he recognized him from somewhere. The man had dark brown hair and darker eyes and a kindly grin, but nothing Tony found familiar...

His stance. That was it. The man was holding himself with the same military rigidity that Steve often had. 

Tony's breath caught in his throat. 

(He's clearly trained by someone. They're finally here for you. It's probably one of Ross's men. Talk yourself out of this NOW.)

"Look, I know that Thaddeus and I haven't gotten along great here recently. But we're still on the same team."

"What? I'm not sure..." 

"I'll double whatever he's paying you," Tony tried desperately. If this guy had any sort of a moral compass he'd be done for. 

"Wait, no. Tony...oh." The man seemed to have had a revelation and he reached up and pulled his face off.

Concerned blue eyes, the color of the Pacific Ocean or a perfectly clear sky stared down at him, full of fear and hurt. 

(He's here. He's here. He's back and he's within touching distance. If he's going to get revenge for what you tried to do to Barnes, there's no way you could stop him. He could kill you and leave and no one would know. He could slip away and go back to Wakanda and no one would be the wiser.)

"Hey, baby, calm down," Steve begged, taking two steps toward Tony. 

"D-don't. D-on't!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't baby me, asshole." Tony shoved himself to the far side of his bed, but he ran out of room far too quickly. "Get the fuck out before I call Ross on your ass."

Steve had the audacity to look wounded. "B-sorry, Tony. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't mean to scare me," Tony echoed with a harsh laugh that hurt all the way down into his lungs. "Fuck you."

(Are you trying to pissed him off? Do you want to die. Wait. Yes you do.)

"Did you steal that prosthetic veil from SHIELD?" he went on, cutting Steve off before he could speak again. 

"No, actually. It's from...where we've been staying," Steve admitted carefully. 

(He doesn't know that you know he's been in Wakanda. That works in your favor. Don't screw this up.)

They watched each other in silence for several long moments. Tony tried to steady his trembling hands and when that failed he settled for tucking them under his thighs. 

"Why are you here?" 

Steve took a deep breath. "Bruce emailed me and told me that you have something that can help Buck."

(So Brucie bear couldn't be bothered to contact you but he's still buddy buddy with Steve. Huh. Shocker. And of course good old Captain wants something from you. He doesn't give a damn that you almost killed yourself.)

"Bucky chose to go back in cryo because he can't trust his own mind right now. He doesn't know if someone else knows his words and he's worried about hurting people."

(Not about hurting you, obviously. Imagine if the reactor had still been in your chest. Barnes would've torn the whole assembly from your rib cage and laughed. He would've watched you bleed out at his feet and your precious Steve would've let it happen.)

"I can't leave him like that. I need your help on this, Tony. Please."

Chapter Text

"You need my help? My God, I'd never thought I'd live to see the day." (And you almost didn't. Not that dying quietly in the privacy of your home is really your style. You're more likely to jump off Stark Tower and splat right onto the sidewalk, in full view of the public.)

"Yeah I do. And so does Bucky."

"You do realize that you're asking me to help the guy that killed my parents, right? You and me saw the same video in Siberia. You alreading fucking knew." Tony struggled to keep the rage out of his voice, and failed miserably. (Failure is in your blood. Your father failed to find Stevie before he died. He failed to protect Maria from the Winter Soldier. He failed to raise you right...)

"It wasn't him," Steve insisted. 

"You know that you're a broken fucking record, right?"

"Tony, I'm here. I'm trying..."

"Trying what, exactly? Enlighten me."

"I'm trying to get your help. At least send Bruce your research you're doing on, um, what's it called again?" 

"BARF."

Steve laughed, then instantly looked ashamed, his cheeks going pink as he scratched the back of his neck. "Is that short for something?" 

"Binary Augmented Retroframing. It's kind of the big deal," Tony replied frostily. "Been all over the news. Even before we had our..." (fight? Break-up? Call a spade a spade.) "Disagreement."

"I haven't exactly been keeping up on the news in...w-where I've been staying."

Tony had to resist the temptation to roll his eyes yet again. It would be easier to just let his ex know that he knew about Wakanda. That he'd known for months, that the All-new Avengers- or whatever the fuck they were calling themselves now- were staked out in an isolated country and basically untouchable. 

(If Steve knows, then he'll have no choice but to take you back with him. You couldn't escape. You'd be missing; not even Rhodey could find you. He'd worry himself to an early grave looking for you.)

"Can't do that," he breathed, his fingers fluttering as he reached up to tap an arc reactor that wasn't there anymore. 

"Tony?" Steve looked concerned, almost like he gave half a fuck, for about half a heartbeat before his eyes shuttered. "Are you still hearing...?"

"So that's why you're back, huh," the genius interrupted. 

Steve's brow knitted, his mouth tugging into what the older man would be once called a "cute" frown. "I, uh, I..."

"No."

"What? Tony, please..."

"No. Fuck you."

"Tony. Babe..."

"I tried to help you. I thought we could work it out, yknow. With the Accords and us and everything else. And fuck, I was wrong."

"The Accords are flawed..." 

Gesturing sharply at Steve, Tony finally got him to shut his mouth for more than two seconds. "You never listen when I talk, do you. I have a plan to change them! It won't be instantaneous; it can't be. You saw what happened when we had no supervision." He let out a huff of almost-laughter. "I can officially say that I know what it's like to beat my head against a brick wall." 

"We talked this over before. It. Will not. Work," Steve stated flatly, crossing his arms. 

"No, you outright rejected my attempt to come up with a solution that would have zero casualties, which for some reason won't fly with you. There's a bit of a damn difference." 

"Bucky has no protection under the Accords..." 

"Try this on for size, Capsicle. If the roles had been reversed, would you have come for me?" Wrapping his trembling fingers around the call button clipped to his sheets, Tony tried to steady his breathing. (Don't be a coward. Say it. Say it.)

"If I had been on the run from the law for the murder of dozens of UN delegates, and Barnes had been safe and sound at your side, would you have come for me? Would you have killed two police officers to help me escape? Would you have pulled a fucking helicopter put of the sky for me?" 

Shuffling his feet, Steve refused to meet his gaze, and that told Tony everything he already knew deep in his heart but needed to confirm for posterity's sake. 

"I needed you just as much as Bucky did. But he'll always come first. You'd do anything to keep him safe." 

"You're right," the super soldier admitted. "I treated you like shit. I'm sorry, Tony." 

"Are you sorry cos you need my tech or are you genuinely sorry for hurting me?"

The until-then forgotten Stark Pad began to vibrate, dancing across the waxed floor to rest again Steve's sneakers, interrupting whatever bullshit explanation he was going to deliver. "It's Rhodey." 

"Let me answer it." 

Tilting his head to one side ever so slightly, the super soldier simply said, "No." 

"Yes," Tony snarled. 

"How do I know that you aren't going to turn me in?" 

"Jesus Christ, Rogers. It's Rhodey. If I don't answer he'll know something's wrong. Try to trust me for once. I know it isn't in your nature, but surely you can make an effort." 

Steve muttered something under his breath and stepped forward, shoving the oversized tablet into Tony's hands with a little bit of excessive force. 

"Honey bear!" the genius sang at the image of his best friend's face. "I've missed you, sweet cheeks." 

"I'll be back soon, Tones. Everything good there?" 

"Bright and shiny." Using the Stark Pad to keep his free hand out of Steve's view, Tony began tapping out a message in Morse code, something they'd learned to pass messages in class at MIT. 

S-T-E-V-E. H-E-R-E. H-E-L-P.

Rhodey nodded three times. Message recieved.  "I'll be heading your way shortly." Translation: he was already almost to the door to his therapist's office and probably had the DOD on the phone too. 

"You good?" he repeated, eyes dark with anger. God, Tony almost felt sorry for the hell that was going to rain down onto Steve. Almost. "I'll let you get back to your morose introspection, or whatever the fuck they have you do in the hospital. See you soon, alright Tones?" 

"Read you loud and clear, honey bear." 

Steve snatched the tech out of Tony's grasp as soon as he'd disconnected the video call. "Please give me what I want." 

"Or what?"

"Or you'll be coming back with me." 

A sharp tap-tap-tap at the window grabbed Steve's attention and he put one hand up to his ear. Drawing back the curtain, the soldier looked down at the street and cursed. "What did you do, Stark?" he snarled, all traces of civility gone from his voice. 

(That's him. The real him. You think he cares about you? For a genius you sure are oblivious.)

Redwing. Wilson's personal eye in the sky was hovering on the other side of the glass, swaying back and forth as if caught in a gentle breeze. Tony knew he'd regret giving Bird Guy Number 2 new tech, but of course he hadn't trusted his gut. 

The faint wailing of sirens made a faint flicker of hope blossom under the now-constant agony in Tony's chest. "Give it up, Steve. Please," he gasped out. 

"No! I have to save Buck." 

"What about me?" Tony heard himself ask distantly as the white-hot pain in his chest flared and he finally lost consciousness.

Who's going to save me?