Ok so in the midst of writing this I pretty much tore it apart and rewrote it and posted it on A03. So here's the FF. net version so enjoy! Posting it here all at once. and there MAY be a follow up so stay tuned.

Who's actually doing the memory erasing I really don't know. You can make your own assumptions. I just needed to get this story out of my head before it killed me, long winded but quite proud of it. First Avengers fic Enjoy!

Tony Stark was many things, but nostalgic wasn't one of them.

He didn't like to keep stuff from the past, it distracted him from the future. Though sentimentality had saved his life on occasion. We'll one time it was Pepper's sentimentality had saved his life.

And DUMMY and YOU were also a couple exceptions. But other than that he wasn't very sentimental with little trinkets. So finding a box full of things that were obviously important and not knowing why.

Yes that mainly having to do with having the majority of his memory basically torn apart about a month ago, leaving it burned with holes and a brain like scrambled eggs. And a feeling of being violated in his sleep, like his brain was not only riddled with holes but covered in greasy fingerprints. Tony had mentioned this early on and the crack he'd made about brain bleach set everyone at ease, that he'd be fine.

For the most part.

It was still a work in progress. He did still sometimes forget what he was talking about mid sentence, or forgetting why he came into a room multiple times. At least everyone didn't hover around him him if they'd turn their backs for a second he'd be off shoving forks into electrical outlets.

Please. 'I may have a craptastic memory now but I'm not that far gone.' Tony would think to himself while trying to duck away from his keepers. Pepper and Banner had been pretty good with keeping a distance, but Thor and Barton needed a few lessons on desecration he decided.

But today, when he was finally alone, Tony decided to go out on the town, and went in search of winter clothes himself. He rarely even went that deep into the closet, Tony didn't even think he'd ever been to the back of it before. He didn't remember his closet being this huge.

Wading through the rows of suits, jackets and ties towards the far back where JARVIS had stated where his winter clothes were located.

The first thing he found was the scarf.

Immediately singling it out among the expensive assortments of leather gloves and cashmere scarves, this particular one had stood out painfully, catching his attention with it's modest wooly appearance. Neatly folded away with the others like it was part of the gang. Endearing in a way.

Tony rarely wore scarves, and he wasn't really sure he owned any like this. Pepper knitted sometimes, Tony thought to himself but that didn't seem right, faulty memory or no. And this scarf gave him the weirdest feeling, a warm fond sentimental feeling mixed with an eerie unexplained familiarity. Like being slugged in chest with a sledgehammer made of deja vu.

Tony held it in his hands gently running his fingers over it. It was soft and most likely hand made, soft but looked unused. He gave it a quick sniff and slung it around his shoulders for now, while trying to shrug off the chill. He'd show it to Pepper or Banner later and see what they knew about it.

Then went on searching deeper into the closet for shoes next, thats when he found the box. A normal looking shoebox hidden far in back with the others, it was a pretty big surprise to find it did not in fact contain shoes. But an assortment of small seemingly useless items. From ticket stubs to a small gift wrapped package wrapped in red shiny paper. Tony shook the box and it rattled some, all the small tag hanging off the side had on it was an "S".

Ok sure. It seemed important, like he had to tell someone about something but he couldn't quite remember what.

Curiosity took over just then thumbing through the box, Tony got the same familiarity with these items as he did with the scarf. These were important, very important since it looked like he'd hidden them away, but why?

Tony had singled out the notepad thing next, it was about the size of a small book, with the spiral spine. It had spotty stains and stiff and wavy, seemed to look like water damage. Flipping open to a random page, Tony skimmed over a few sketches, nothing special looking, buildings, trees, a few pairs of disembodies hands doing various things. Some had little notes under it and dates.

On the first few pages, some of the sketches were smeared, probably having gotten wet. Curiosity pushed him forwards, it wasn't his. Tony didn't keep doodle pads either and these didn't seem to be in his drawing style.

Some drawings looked angrily scratched out, or erased. Some seemed almost sad. More like a journal. Three pages in Tony stopped, one page in particular catching his attention. It was a picture of one of the recent Stark phones with a couple question marks doodled next to it. Off to the side a small inscription read; "Still cant figure out these new types of telephones, no buttons or a cord. How? Ask Tony later."

OK this was defiantly not his. But he was in it. The next page had Clint and Thor on them but it mentioned him too. The words "New home." scribbled in the corner next to a picture of the tower.

The next page had more of everyone else, Thor's hammer, Barton's quiver, His helmet, Captain America's shield. Next to Thor's hammer was a helmet with long horns and the words "Gods? Don't buy it."

An eerie coldness seeped through him as he went on. The further he went into it the more he showed up, pictures of him, with little notes underneath or around them.

"Big man in a suit."

"Looks so much like Howard, weird."

"Impossible."

"Reckless."

Some entries seemed angry, some seemed sad. Each in fragments but he knew they were about him. One big picture of him stood out, Tony was sure it was of him. His hair ruffled face dirty smiling big and almost apologetically. With just his name "Tony" scrawled neatly.

Flipping through it more quickly now to see if the entry continued, but throughout the entire book, the little bits of torn paper attached to the spine suggested pages had been torn out. Tony set the pad aside onto the bed and let out a long shaky breath, without even realizing that he'd been holding it that long.

Tony Stark wasn't nostalgic, but he had been nostalgic over someone else's nostalgia. Ugh nostalgiaception.

What did these things mean? Tony knew. He knew that he knew.

One word came suddenly to mind, focusing on the familiar thrill this word gave him. Like the beginning lyrics to a song you only could remember the melody to.

Tony wrung the scarf in his hands while unburying this word. Focusing on it bringing it up from the murky depths of his memory. The scarf felt like an totem. An anchor connected to this word. The more he stared at it the more familiar it felt. Glimpses of sitting on the couch, laughing, happy the smell of leather.

Colors, blue, red, yellow.

The word grew bolder. It tore it's way through his clouded scared brain. Sharp and forceful, and slowly coming into focus. At the tip of his he had it.

It wasn't a word.

Just a name.

Steve.

Relief. Then more confusion.

Steve?