Post Civil War, immediately after the battle with Steve and Bucky.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or any part of the Marvel/Iron Man universe...though I do wish I lived in it. Excuse me if I miss a few details...this is my attempt to get back into writing after about a year break. Please read and review!

"I've located a reading on Mr Stark's operating system."

"Where?"

Vision gracefully pointed toward the screen where a small red dot was illuminating somewhere in Russia. Peeking over his shoulder in the cockpit, Natasha frowned as she squinted and read the information on the pickup.

"Siberia?"

"It seems so," Vision confirmed.

"What's he doing there?" She paused. "Is F.R.I.D.A.Y. back online?"

"I'm not sure. Shall we try him?"

"Connect me," she ordered, then waited for Vision to signal her to speak. "Tony?" she called into the receiver as their jet navigated toward his signal. "Tony, can you hear me? Mr Stark!"

It had been half a day. Half a day and all he managed to do was drag himself to the inside of the main bunker, just to survive the freezing cold now that the suit was basically destroyed. In is frustration, Tony had whipped Cap's shield toward the computer screen that displayed the footage of the Winter Soldier murdering his parents; he let it lie there, next to the crushed monitor. Then, he managed to toss his helmet down somewhere across the room after failing to get it back online. Sure, he should be attempting anything to get himself out of the middle of the tundra, but at the moment, his body was numb and he lacked rationalization. To be completely honest, he felt dead inside, and he had begun to accept that.

He sat with his head against the wall, staring up at the pillar that lead to the outside. The empty, hollow drop that he had thrown Bucky up. Still, the rage that flowed through him there hadn't subsided, and he doubted it ever would.

Suddenly, a muffled, static voice emulated from his broken helmet, stunning him out of his trance, but not enough to move.

"Tony, can - me? Mr Stark!"

Natasha.

"If this - coming - estimated two hours - ready."

He got the gist. They were coming to save him. Big deal. He didn't need saving. He needed to be alone. Be alone and protect what he had left; himself, and Rhodey, if his friend even pulled through. He cracked his jaw and forced down the sadness that was biting at him since seeing the footage; he was Iron Man, he wouldn't give in. Anger was better. Anger was easier. He'd stick with that.

Not sure if time had really gone that fast or if Tony had just finally knocked out for an hour or two due to fatigue, he was suddenly greeted with footsteps echoing down the empty hallways leading into the Siberian bunker. He sat, armor still coating his body, and waited for the drama to ensue.

"Tony?" a soft voice called before the head of Black Widow poked into the room, her weapon ready and aimed in case they met any trouble.

He couldn't respond, he didn't want to. So, he waited for her to piece everything together. Surely, she must have known Cap was gone. Did she even know he had come here to bring he and Bucky back?

"Tony!" she gasped whens he spotted him.

Natasha quickly let her guard down and was followed by Vision's shadow as they entered the room. Nat approached him, kneeling down to meet his lumped up mess of a height as he sat on his ass on the concrete against the far wall. She inspected him and the bloody mess his face was, noting the damage to his arc reactor. She waved a hand in front of his face next, making sure he was at least alert and only in a trance.

"Tony, what happened here?" she asked quietly, putting care into each word.

She could tell her was fragile; she had never seem him like this. Unresponsive was not Tony Stark.

"May I ask why Captain America left his shield?" Vision pried, leaning down from his hovering state to pick the piece of Vibranium up from the floor.

Tony's eyes stayed dead ahead, staring through Natasha and toward the emptiness he felt. He didn't bother acknowledging Vision's question; it only hurt. Still, to this day, he hated not having Jarvis around, and now his voice just reminded him that everything he had the last time he was actually, genuinely happy, was now gone: Jarvis, the mansion, Pepper, Rhodey, for all he knew...

Nat frowned, looking at the shield, then at Stark's broken helmet at the other side of the room where they entered from. She didn't know what happened, but it mostly pieced together; something bad, something that probably would change the Avengers forever...more than the Accords had.

As Vision approached with the shield, Natasha grabbed for her phone, dialing a number she hadn't used in quite a while.

"It's Natasha," she breathed, not knowing what else to do. "You know how to handle this. I'm at a loss. Can you meet us at the compound tomorrow morning?" She waited for the reply on the other line. "It's bad..."

Eventually, Vision wound up carrying Tony to the jet, which was more amusing than it should have been. At first, he fought and finally moved, holding up his hand to defer the man from touching him. But, eventually, when she was sick of waiting, Natasha instructed Vision to do it anyway so they could get back to the compound and go from there.

The entire flight home, Tony had slumped down into a seated position on the floor, reminding Natasha of the time Bruce had done the same after his tantrum; she tried to push it from her mind; they still hadn't tracked him, and every day it killed her not knowing if he was alive or not.

She watched Stark from the corner of her eye instead, trying to figure out what the hell had gone on in that bunker, but as hard as she tried, she feared it was something more than she could ever imagine. Tony Stark was tough. He was a sarcastic, narcissistic asshole, most of the time. But he was never emotionless, or depressed, or...unresponsive. He looked broken; his eyes were bloodshot, his hair was dusty and worn, and his face still shown bright red with the caked on dried blood from whatever fight he had had.

When they finally did arrive, Tony refused to be carried again and walked on his own, stumbling every few feet; he was still exhausted, but there was no way he could sleep after everything that happened. Natasha helped him out of the suit in his work room with the aid of F.R.I.D.A.Y., then left him on lock down, instructing the AI to alert her if anything changed in his condition and to restrict him from all Avengers or Stark Industries applications.

He stood with his head down, staring at the floor in disgust, remembering Steve standing there in his spangly uniform yelling at him about some security measure he added to the compound. How Rhodey helped him implement the new web settings on the kid's suit the couple of days before hand. He wanted an answer. Or just to get out. Go far away, where it was quiet and Iron Man didn't exist. He wanted -

"Tony?" a female voice called as he heard the mechanical swoop of the doors opening.

His mind froze; he knew that voice. It haunted him. It was in his head, 24/7. It was in his dreams. It was who he pictured when he talked to this new female operating system. It was her.

Her heels clicked, sending too many memories through his mind at once, summoning the tears again. He fought against them, hard, and refused to raise his head. He couldn't do this now. He was Iron Man. He was Tony Stark. Tony Stark didn't cry, didn't get upset...didn't get...emotionally compromised like this.

"Tony, hey."

Her warm, slim fingers reached for his chin and finally urged him to meet her face. He swallowed but followed her lead and raised his clouded, chocolate eyes to the familiar blue ones he had longed for for too many months.

"Natasha called me," she informed him gently, answering why she was there. "What happened, Tony?"

Carefully, he hand traced the wounds on his face, making him wince and avoid her eyes again. His lip quivered and he stared with an uncomfortable tension he never felt possible as he struggled to contain his anger and stop any sort of liquid from leaking from his eyes. How could he even begin to explain to her? She wouldn't want to hear it, anyway. She'd scold him for losing friend, for starting more battles...

"I need you to talk to me, Anthony," she begged, reaching down to touch his bicep instead of his battle scars.

With that, he pulled away instinctively, almost too agressively, making her jump with concern and a slight hint of fear. Even she hadn't seen him like this before; he had cried in front of her, once, when he woke from a night terror shortly after the battle in New York, but not even one other circumstance.

"Don't you dare touch me," he snarled, glaring at her with an intensity that would burn a hole in her head if it could. "You left. And now I don't have anyone else. Okay, you don't get to do this!"

His voice got eerily quiet as he added the second part of his statement. She stiffened but obliged for a moment, thinking about her next move.

Stark sensed the dramatic shift in mood in the room and immediately regretted it; this is why she was gone. This was why she didn't care for him anymore, why she wanted out. Why she never answered his calls anymore. He swallowed hard, still fighting off the urge to let lose. Then, he spoke, his voice cracking from lack of speech or water to ease his damaged core.

"He killed them, Pepper," he whispered, staring at the ground again. "Barnes murdered them. And Steve knew. This whole damn time, he knew."

Finally, he raised his eyes and met her blue pools. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. His were getting watery, not matter how hard he fought it. Thinking about what he could have had...what he should have done... How he should have just said goodbye. All the years he blamed himself...and all the years he wondered but never fully understood what his parents went through...

"Tony..." Potts whispered sadly, knowing she would never be able to help him the way he needed.

He glanced around the room, looking at anything but her as she approached him again, this time slowly as not to cause another commotion, and placed the palm of her hand on his cheek. He looked up at his when he felt the warm contact and gave in; a tear slipped out from his right eye and fell down his cheek. The anger was gone; now, it was pure sadness.

She let her shoulders drop as she pulled him into a strong hug, cradling his head against her shoulder.

Stark instantly began to relax for the first time since everything went down and he fell into her body, the comfort inviting. He had wanted to feel her again for far too long, and he hated that this was how it happened, but he knew there was no other way he'd be able to admit what he learned.

"You'll be okay," she whispered. "We'll move on from this. We always do."

"We?" he repeated quietly, taking in the scent of her shampoo as he buried his face in her neck and hair and breathed in slowly.

"You, Rhodey, Natasha..."

"Pepper, Rhodey's-"

But she cut him off, happy to deliver some form of good news. "Nat and I checked in on his vitals when we got here. He's alive, Tony. And if anyone can fix him, it's you. You fix everything."

"I couldn't fix us," he muttered sadly, pulling at her heart strings.

"Yet," she finished for him, stroking his hair, causing a shiver to go down his spine.

He took another deep breath, but didn't budge. Slowly, he reciprocated the hug and wound his arms around her waist, raising his head so his chin rested on her shoulder. He wanted to hold her and just...feel her. Make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"You need to get some sleep," she whispered calmingly in his ear, reminding him of the fact that it had been days without sleep or any substantial nutrients. "And a shower," she teased lightly, hoping it would lift his spirits.

"Only if you join me," he deadpanned, a hint of the Tony they all knew coming back.

It earned a small chuckle from Potts, but neither one let go of the fact that the damage done would take a very, very long time to heal.

Tony sighed, kissing her hair lightly, remembering the same feeling of happiness that he had way back when he blew up all of his suits for her on the oil rig. His life was hell, and quite honestly, he thought about ending it. Stopping it all, just to stop feeling. If Rhodey didn't pull through, he didn't know how he'd manage. But now, just having Pepper back in his arms, things were already looking up. She was right; he fixed things. He always had, and always would. No, he couldn't fix the fact that his parents were gone, but he could start picking up the pieces of what was left behind and finally try to live a happy life. With the Avengers that were left. With her.

"Please don't go" he tightened his grip on her. "I need you...I don't...I can't do this without you, Pep. It's my fault. All of it. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

She patted the back of his head. "Come on, let's get you to bed," she answered, her tone enough of an agreement for him.

"I love you," he whispered, placing another kiss into her hair.