I've got to say, I didn't really have much confidence in my story. I literally spent a week debating whether or not to put this story up, so I want to thank all those who reviewed, favorited, and/or followed my story. It really made my day! Especially the reviews and all the kind words. Really made a difference to me. Honestly. I didn't get quite as many reviews on my other stories, so I kind of gave up writing fanfic for a while and focused on other things. I mean, this is the first time I got so many reviews just from the first chapter alone! Thanks, everyone!

And because I'm easily swayed by kind words, I worked hard to update this quickly and make it extra long so I really hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own any Marvel products.

Chapter 2

After several tantrums and the actual process of attempting to rig the helicarrier to change course and take him to his mansion in Malibu, Tony Stark was finally allowed to be released from hospital three days after he was moved from the ICU to a private room. There really wasn't much of a discussion on who joined him on the quinjet. Steve and Bruce were obvious choices - both were needed to subdue and treat the genius. Apparently, Natasha and Clint had been forbidden to jump on, but they managed to do so anyway, which, in hindsight, wasn't quite a good idea for either of the injured men. Though it had been an entire week since the fight with the Enchantress, Clint was still suffering from post-concussion syndrome and Tony was just beginning to mend. Neither realized how taxing traveling the trip to California would be to them.

About an hour away from his mansion in Malibu, Tony had become completely crippled by his pain and was barely coherent. Every movement jarred his wounds, but staying still put pressure on his fractured rib. No matter what he did, his entire body was constantly hovering between being completely on fire or having ripples of lighting rush through him. It was all he could to not cry out every time they hit turbulence.

Attentive as always, Steve kept a hand running comfortingly through his black hair, but even that wasn't quite enough. Yet, he remained conscious, despite his best efforts to pass out.

Blearily, he looked glanced at Clint as a momentary distraction. From his stretcher and his position on his left side, he could see the greenish tinge on Clint's face, contrasted brightly against the white bandages on his head. Natasha was whispering in his ear, holding a bucket near him.

"Sorry..." Tony said softly, almost too quiet to hear, but even as dizzy as he was, the archer's sharp ears caught Tony's words.

"You talking to me?" Clint asked, bafflement clear on his face.

Tony nodded briefly before the throbbing of his injuries forced him to stop.

"Why're you sorry?"

"It's my fault..." Tony mumbled.

"How is it your fault?" Clint prodded.

The rest of the team could hear the hope in Clint's voice - that Tony would reveal what happened. Since he had woken up from surgery, everyone had asked him about the fight, but no one got any answers other than the blatant lie that he didn't remember. Clint had hoped that, in his current state, Tony would let something slip, but even though he was drugged up to his eyeballs, Tony was as tight-lipped as ever, choosing to deflect from the question.

"You alright?" asked Tony.

"Better than you," Clint responded.

A small smirk appeared on his face as his eyes slid shut, "Still prettier than you."

"Lies. The drugs are screwing with your head."

"Just...ask Steve," Tony muttered before he finally, finally, fell into unconsciousness.

"Anyone have any idea why he won't talk about what happened?" Clint piped as soon as the pain on Tony's face evened out.

"The one time we want him to talk, he won't," gritted Natasha.

Bruce joined in. "I think someone should call Thor. He may understand a little bit of what happened. The Enchantress is from his world after all."

Steve shook his head, "I've already asked Fury to, but he's gone with Jane to visit his father in Asgard. We can't contact him until he returns, and we don't know when that is."

"We'll need to keep an eye out for Tony then," said Clint. "You know how he gets when he's brooding."

"Bruce, do you still have the override codes to his lab and JARVIS?" asked Natasha.

"Yes, but I can guarantee you that they won't work if Tony doesn't want them to."

"Then we'll just go through the vents or something."

"Not with that head injury, you're not! Besides, it's not like you can fit in them anymore."

"Are you implying something, Natasha?"

"I'll leave that to your imagination if your brain is still capable of thinking."

Steve chuckled slightly at the two, wondering what Tony would have said if he was awake. No doubt his sass would have led to something that insulted the two spies, resulting in a feigned surrender with a makeshift white flag.

"Then we'll just have to take shifts watching him," suggested Bruce. "Under no circumstances are we allowed to leave him alone for more than five minutes."

Three people glared at him.

He sighed, "Let me amend that – he's not allowed to be alone for more than a minute."

Clint scoffed. "Last time, he rewired the entire alarm system on the helicarrier to lock everyone in their own rooms and set off the sprinklers because he was bored – and that took him all of two minutes. Fury was not happy when his eye-patch got wet. It was priceless." Clint took on a faraway look, smirking as he recalled that exact moment.

The red-head smiled at the memory too and even Bruce let out a small laugh. The three continued to reminisce at all the shenanigans that Tony had pulled since they met – all the annoyances and laughter that made him an integral part of their team. If Steve didn't know any better, this was the Avengers' way of coping with almost losing someone so important to them.

At that thought, the grin on Steve's face grew strained as he thought back to the hospital – the sight of Tony so weak that he could barely form coherent sentences, let alone be his usual snarky self. His unshed tears of pain and frustration of feeling so helpless haunted Steve. Tony had only been fully awake for a couple of times, but Steve could tell that something was eating at him.

Tony was never one to like sleeping with all the calculations, inventions, and other scientific ideas floating around his head at the speed of light (not that Steve would ever understand). In short, his mind never shut off and Tony had long ago decided that sleep could wait when he was dead. And if Steve hadn't started sleeping together with Tony, he never would have learned that on top of his hyperactive mind, Tony often had nightmares about Afghanistan and losing one of his teammates to a mission gone awry. So he could understand a little when Tony would plead with him – beg him to convince the doctors that he didn't need the sedatives that put him to sleep. He even went as far as to refuse painkillers, but Steve gently convinced him otherwise, saying that Tony's body needed the rest to heal.

Steve would never forget the brief second where pure, unadulterated terror spread across Tony's face when sleep was about to overcome him, but no matter how Steve tried to ask him why, Tony would shut his mouth and turn away. Well, he would attempt to turn away before he remembered exactly where his injuries were and then proceeded to sulk, refusing to make eye contact or talk with anyone.

There was something seriously wrong, and everyone could tell. If Tony's silence wasn't enough of an indication, Steve's absentmindedness worried everyone.

Steve was Captain freaking America – the epitome of focus, determination, and all things that made him a great leader. Yet, he was completely thrown out of whack by one Tony Stark – playboy, billionaire, genius, and whatever else his ego would throw out.

He sighed, running his fingers through Tony's hair again, and leaned down to press a chaste kiss against his brow. With one ear, he listened to Clint and Natasha laugh quietly at a story that Bruce was telling them – something about Tony exploding something in the lab because of 'defective' robot that had a strange attachment to fire extinguishers.

There was a beep and then the pilots informed the Avengers that they were going to arrive at Tony's home in twenty minutes. The plane hit another turbulence, rocking hard, and Clint turned into shades of green that even the Hulk would admire.

Needless to say, the rest of the journey wasn't as pleasant smelling as they would have liked.

Loud laughter screeched at Tony's ears. He recognized it – that hateful and annoying sound had taunted at him, mocked him as he watched Steve, Clint, and Natasha turn around to stare at him. They advanced; Steve raised his shield, Natasha pointed her guns at him, and Clint had an arrow aimed straight at his reactor where his heart hid behind.

"Snap out of it, guys! You're under a spell!" Tony yelled.

"You're a danger to others. You need to be taken down," growled Steve, his blue eyes cold as the ice he was once frozen in.

"What? I'm not the enemy!"

"Oh, but you are, Tony."

Tony swallowed hard. "No…this is just the Enchantress' doing. S-stop, Steve," stuttered Tony as he took a step back.

"The Enchantress isn't even here, Stark. It's just you. All of this was your fault," hissed Natasha. "And to think that my ledger was bad. Take a look at yours!"

Suddenly, the stench of iron overwhelmed his senses. He turned his nose away in disgust at the familiar smell and his eyes widened as he saw the thousands of bodies lying strewn around him. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children and infants lay at his feet; their lifeless eyes stared at him accusingly.

"N-no…I didn't do this…" he whimpered.

"Your weapons did, Tony," whispered Clint. "You're responsible for taking away more lives than Tasha and I have combined."

"You're a monster," Steve said.

Something in Tony shattered into a million pieces. Tears leapt to his eyes.

Natasha's fingers curled around the triggers. "You deserve to die, Stark."

Clint drew back his bow further. "We should have never trusted you."

Steve prepared to throw his shield at Tony. "I could never love a murderer like you."

And then all Tony could see were those icy blues that froze everything he was, consuming his broken heart and soul…

Tony snapped awake with a muffled cry. Tears fell unbidden down his eyes and he was suddenly aware of a presence near him. His heartbeat thumped rapidly in his ears, fear making his imagination run wild.

He flinched as someone's large hand laid down on his shoulder and a groan escaped from him as the pain from his lower back reared its angry head.

"Tony, what's wrong? Do you need more medication?"

Tony knew that voice. It was so warm, so soothing. So full of love…not like the one from his nightmare.

"Steve…" he croaked.

Gentle blue eyes connected with teary black ones.

Steve leaned forward, crawling onto Tony's king-sized bed, and caressed Tony's cheeks. His thumb wiped away some tears and his kisses chased away others.

"It's alright, Tony. It's just a dream," Steve assured him, his voice low and calming.

Tony sniffed, struggling to compose himself.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, and Steve knew better than to push Tony.

"What can I do to help?"

"Just…" Tony took a shuttering breath, his need for physical contact outweighing his desire to nurse his pride. "Hold me, please?"

Steve didn't even hesitate. He slowly positioned himself to lie on his side next to Tony, facing him as he maneuvered himself to inch closer. Carefully, as to not aggravate any of Tony's injuries, Steve pulled Tony into his chest and kissed the top of Tony's head.

"Love you, Tony," whispered Steve.

'I could never love a murderer like you...'

"Why?" murmured Tony. "Why would you love someone like me?"

'You're a monster.'

There was a pause and Tony could feel his heart begin to tear, but then Steve spoke with no hesitation.

"I love how you make me laugh and how you drive me crazy. I love how you act like an egotistical narcissist and still care more than anyone else. I love how gorgeous you are and your weird goatee that seems to be quite popular nowadays. I love how ridiculously how smart you are and how happy you make me feel. There are so many reasons, Tony. It's impossible to list them all out, but bottom line is: I love you, Tony, for who you are. You mean more to me than I can ever express."

If Steve heard the strained sob Tony let out, he didn't comment on it. If Steve was grossed out by the snot that Tony was leaving on his shirt, he didn't say it out loud. He just let Tony be, knowing full well how Tony needed reassurances after certain dreams.

He sighed, holding Tony closer without hurting him further.

"I love you, Tony."

A sniff. "Love you, too, Steve."

Tony buried his face into Steve's shirt, breathing in the Clive Christian cologne that he had given him for a Christmas present one year. He could feel Steve's warmth surround him, chasing away his nightmare. The sound of Steve's heartbeat was like a metronome, lulling him back to sleep.

Steve stayed awake for a few minutes more, listening and feeling Tony's heartbeat against him. He wasn't sure when or how it happened, but somehow, their beats lined together – becoming one.

It comforted Steve, more than words could explain, and he felt himself relaxing into Tony.

Hours later, Bruce smiled as he saw the two together and quietly closed the door behind him.

His shift could wait just a little bit longer…

A couple of days passed and Tony felt strong enough to wander through his mansion, though there was someone always within arm's reach, supporting and holding him up. He understood that his friends were worried about him, but somehow, their constant presence just made him feel on edge. It was as if he could feel their gazes pierce through him, and he wanted nothing more than the peace and quiet of his lab to sort out his thoughts.

It was then a scheme to escape started formulating in his mind, but when did everything ever go according to plan?

It started with Tony taking a nap on the couch in his living room. Despite Steve and Bruce's protests, he had refused to sleep in his room anymore. There were too many nightmares and memories and Tony needed a change of pace. He had wandered there under Bruce's watchful eye after spending some time on the floor above where Steve and Clint were letting off some steam.

Usually, Tony would have no problem staring at Steve in a tight t-shirt as he punched the shit out of some sand; the sweat would make Steve's clothes stick closer to his amazing body. The intense concentration on Steve's face combined with his outfit was always an eye-candy for Tony, but today, every time Steve's right hook connected harshly with the bag, he would see himself in front of his boyfriend, silently taking the abuse.

He would flinch, hiss, and then turn away to see Clint shooting at some obscure target in the distance, looking slightly bored. And then Tony's right shoulder would throb.

So, he wandered off, subconsciously searching for the Black Widow, just wondering if she was going to pop out behind him.

He never noticed the frown on Steve's face or Clint's raised eyebrows as he left, but neither spoke. Tony still refused to talk and they knew better than to push him into a corner.

Bruce turned to follow Tony, nodding his head at the other two men. It didn't take a genius to realize that Tony had no problems with Bruce – never flinching when he was nearby. His eyes never took on the flash of fear as he had with the others. As much as it tore Steve apart to not be the one to comfort Tony, he wanted what was best for his boyfriend. If Bruce was the answer, then Steve was more than willing to give them space.

Banner noted how antsy and silent Tony was. It was unnerving, but he didn't say anything. He didn't know, but Tony was far from quiet in his mind. He had gone through several methods of escape, but each one ended in Natasha or Clint sitting on him to keep him down, or worse, restraining him.

The only chance he had to scurry down to his lab was if he did something drastic, as in create a distraction long enough for him to make his way there.

A yawn interrupted his thoughts. Fatigue and exhaustion caught up to him quickly. He was still limping around, moving as slow as a snail through his hallways. Bruce had offered him a wheelchair, but he had rapidly dismantled it in the first three minutes that he was given it. Tony fucking Stark did not sit in wheelchairs. It was just tacky and unnecessary, though at times, Tony did regret doing so, not that he would ever say it out loud.

Without him realizing it, Bruce had used his inattentiveness to lead Tony to the couch in the living room. Tony glared at Bruce, realizing that he had been manipulated, but he couldn't bring himself to be too angry. After all, Tony had literally been draped around Bruce for support; it was fairly easy to bring Tony to wherever they wanted him to go, and he hated it.

"Rest for ten minutes, Tony. You're still recovering," Bruce said.

"I don't need you telling me what to do, Mom," Tony drawled out.

Bruce ignored his statement, turning to look at the kitchen behind them – no doubt thinking of what to make. "You have to take your pain meds soon. What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," Tony replied, curling onto the couch as best as he could.

He laid on his left side, facing the sofa's back. He winced, feeling his rib protest, and squirmed into a more comfortable position before another gasp escaped him. The wound in his back burned, and Tony clutched at his shirt above the injury, as if it could chase away the agony.

Bruce gently pried his fingers away, worried that Tony would accidentally tear off his stitches through the bandages.

"Yep, you definitely need more pain meds."

Tony took a couple of swallow breaths before shaking his head. "I don't want it."

Bruce frowned. "Why not?"

"It makes me tired."

"I know you're a genius, so you should know that sleeping is vital to recovering. Unless there's another reason?" Bruce nudged.

But as expected, Tony deflected. "I want beef wellington."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I'll get started on that right away. How does eating in two days sound to you?" Bruce snorted. "Grilled chicken and brown rice it is."

"Hey! You asked me what I wanted! Who the hell eats brown rice anyway? Isn't that for horses to eat or something?"

"I'm not going to dignify that question with a response," retorted Bruce, walking away. "It won't take long."

Tony had originally planned to wait until Bruce was preoccupied before he scampered to his lab, but the couch was suddenly extremely comfy and he was tired. He closed his eyes. He would rest for just a minute and then escape. Just one minute…

When Bruce glanced at Tony ten minutes later to let the genius know that his food was ready, but Tony was quietly snoring away, the pain on his face erased in sleep.

He smiled gently and shoved the chicken into the fridge. Tony could eat when he woke up. And he quietly settled down at the table, reading a newspaper and keeping an eye on Tony at the same time.

He had just finished reading through the science editorials and moved on to the comics when Steve and Clint wandered in, looking for an after-workout snack. Both noticed Tony in seconds. Steve and Clint glanced at each other, having a silent conversation. Steve then joined Bruce at the table; the latter wordlessly handed Steve the politics section as Clint used his spy skills to make a quick meal for the two of them with absolutely no sound.

It was around then when they heard a slight shuffle on the couch. The three of them glanced over and saw Tony twitching. His face had contorted and his lips were moving wordlessly.

Steve stood, meaning to wake Tony from his nightmare before he started thrashing, but Natasha beat him to it. She almost materialized out of nowhere, surprising both Steve and Bruce, and gently shook Tony's shoulder.

The effects were instantaneous.

Tony jerked awake with a yelp. Disoriented, the first thing he realized was that Natasha was behind him and he almost flung himself away from her. He tumbled to the ground with a thump; his black eyes were large and bright with fear. His breaths came too quickly and his vision wavered. He choked back a scream as he stared at Natasha. His entire body shook with the exertion, but the adrenaline kept his pain at bay – just barely.

Natasha backed away, holding her hands up in the air in surrender. Her usually guarded expression revealed concern and confusion. Steve was by Tony's side in seconds, but Tony flinched away from him too.

This time, he let out a loud groan as he curled in on himself even as he tried to feebly fight with Steve.

"Back away, Steve!" exclaimed Bruce, rushing over. Steve found himself shoved to a side while Bruce quietly spoke to Tony, coaxing him back to reality.

After a few tense minutes, Tony calmed, his breathing slowing to a normal pace. A sheen of sweat covered his brow and the pain was etched into the lines of his face. Shakily, he stood up with Bruce's help and noticed Clint standing motionless in the kitchen. The smell of something burning made him crinkle his nose. He shot a sideways look at Steve and Natasha. Both had similar expressions as Clint – horrified, worried, and full of pity.

He backed away and no one made to follow him, as if they were afraid that he was going to break the moment they touched him.

And he couldn't take it.

A few more steps and he was a step outside the large open doorway. He continued looking at his friends – his family staring at him like a broken puppet and suddenly, it was too stifling to be in the same room as them.

"JARVIS, initiate code 3473 in the living room," he said.

"What? What's code 3473?" Barton asked, stepping forward.

His questions were answered when the fire alarms started to go off around them, surrounding them with flashing red lights and blaring noises. A heavy-duty glass door slid into place, inches from Tony's nose.

The Avengers sprang into action, realizing too late what Tony had done.

Steve and Clint pounded at the door that separated Tony and them while Natasha checked it for weaknesses. Bruce just stood behind them, pinching his nose as he counted to ten. No doubt his eyes were tinted green if they were open to look at Tony.

"Tony! Open this door!" shouted Steve.

Tony shook his head, sinking back against the wall. He gave them an apologetic look before rushing off (at least in his mind) down the hallway and to the elevator.

He had locked his lab down when he heard an explosion from two floors above him and he hoped that the Avengers hadn't broken anything significant in his house, but just briefly. He quickly ducked his head, burying himself into the nearest appliance as a distraction. He knew that someone was going to come after him.

The next minute, he heard a beeping on the holograph lock and he mentally cursed himself for not changing the passcode before he settled down.

The door open with a whoosh and Tony heard footsteps approach him, careful to steer clear of his back.

"We need to talk, Tony."

Tony instantly recognized the voice. "Go away, Banner."

Bruce crossed his arms and purposefully placed himself into Tony's vision. "No, not until you tell me what's going on with you. That reaction earlier was not normal, even for you."

Tony really didn't want to deal with this right now.

"JARVIS, you know what happened, right? Tell me," Banner said loudly.

"JARVIS, I strictly forbid you from saying anything to anyone about the fight and you aren't allowed to speak while Banner's here!" Tony yelled. "No sneaking around, JARVIS. I mean it!"

"Tony! This isn't helping anyone! Why won't you talk?" Bruce snapped.

"What do you want me to say, Banner?" snarled Tony, whirling on Bruce.

"The truth! What the hell happened? Tell me so I can help you!"

"Trust me, nothing good will come out of me talking."

Frustrated, Banner couldn't stop the next words from tumbling out of his mouth. "Why don't you think of others for once? Do you know how worried sick Steve is? How on edge Natasha is or how upset Clint is? I understand more than anyone how it feels to suddenly wake up and find out that all isn't what it seems. They deserve to know!"

Tony rounded on him, growling. "The truth will set you free, is it? Bullshit. How many times did you wake from being the Hulk and wish that you never knew what you had done? Ignorance is bliss, so fuck off and get out of my lab."

Bruce crossed his arms. "No. Not until you tell me what happened."

"Why do you have to pick at it until it fucking bleeds? Leave it the fuck alone!"

"I can't!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it's clearly bothering you!"

"I'm fine," Tony snapped.

"That's a lie, and you know it. Don't think we haven't noticed how you can't have Natasha stand behind you or that you flinch every time you see Steve hit a punching bag and Clint practicing shooting. We're not idiots, but we do care about you, Tony. We just want to help you! Because we're family!"

"And that's exactly why I can't tell you!"

At that, Bruce's mouth snapped shut. Realization hit him hard, like a freight train running straight into him. This wasn't Tony sulking, being afraid of something, or even nursing his pride. This was Tony protecting the people most important to him.

"Tony..." he whispered, his emotions making his voice quiver.

Tony purposefully kept his gaze on the electronic in his hand, knowing full well that the game was up. "What am I supposed to tell them, Bruce? Can you imagine how hurt Steve would be if he knew that he was the one to break my ribs? He wouldn't even be able to be in the same room as me. And you think I'll still be able to pull pranks with Clint after he finds out that he almost blew me up and shot me in the shoulder?" He laughed mirthlessly, "How am I supposed to tell Natasha that she literally stabbed me in the back? I'll just become another mark in her red ledger."

His voice dropped. "It wasn't their fault. The Enchantress made them think that I was her - they were just doing what they were supposed to be do. I don't blame them, but they'll blame themselves. And I can't do that to them."

"Then why are you hiding here?"

Tony exhaled harshly, running his shaking fingers through his hair. "Because I can't stop seeing the coldness in their eyes – I can't stop seeing in their faces that I'm a threat to be eliminated. It's just…" he trailed off. How was he supposed to explain that, as hurt was he was by his 'family' regarding him with such anger, he was more afraid that that would become reality? That all the people he cared about would turn against him?

This was why he kept everyone at an arm's length, but somehow, the Avengers had weaseled past his defenses. He would die for them in a heartbeat, as they would for him. He could see how much they cared for him – the little touches Natasha would give him in silent support, Clint's goal to make him laugh and smile every minute of the day, Bruce's attempts to distract him with scientific theories, and Steve's constant, affectionate presence that warmed and grounded him. He wasn't going to let some stupid Asgardian fuck everything up for him – not when he had so much to lose.

He shrugged. "I'll get over it. I just need some time and this'll fade to a bad memory, but the others? They'll never stop feeling guilty. I don't want their pity; I don't want them to change how they treat me. I'd rather suffer on my own then let them know what happened." Tony gave Bruce a hard stare, "Bruce, promise me that you won't tell them. Promise me."

"I…"

"Please."

It was the 'please' that made Bruce cave in. Like Steve before him, he couldn't refuse a pleading Tony who had put aside his own pride for the sake of others. It simply wasn't possible.

Sighing, Bruce nodded, "I promise, but in exchange, you come find me if you ever need to talk about this."

Tony began tinkering with the silicon chip he had in his hand again. "Thanks, Bruce."

"What are you doing anyway? The last time I saw your lab this cluttered, it was when you were developing new weapons for Clint that he could use when he ran out of arrows."

"In case that bitch ever comes back, I'm trying to figure out how to break the illusions that she uses." Tony leaned back a little, looking thoughtfully at Bruce, "They didn't work on me or you, and I'm thinking it's because of my suit and the Jolly Green Monster, but I don't know exactly why."

Bruce easily settled into the conversation. "Eye contact?"

Tony shook his head. "I doubt it. Everyone was too far away to look directly into her eyes."

"Sound?"

"Most likely. JARVIS filters out my sound system so I'm less likely to be affected by supersonic waves, but I don't remember the Enchantress doing anything that could cause her powers to radiate out."

"Well, she is from another world. Maybe we're going about this wrong. What's logical here may not be in Asgard. I mean, you've seen Thor with a microwave."

Tony snickered, and paused, his mind turning. He glanced over at Bruce with a sparkle in his eyes. "Bruce, you're a genius."

"Not quite like you, but yes, I am. Your point?"

"Pressure waves! She does it by pressure waves!"

"Are you saying that the atmosphere is her medium? But we would have heard something, don't you think?"

"Not if the frequencies are above 20,000 Hertz."

Understanding spread across Bruce's face. "That's why the two of us weren't affected."

Tony stood up quickly, meaning to search through one of his nearby drawers, and immediately regretted it. His back stretched too far with the movement and he fell forward, barely catching himself on the table with an audible gasp. Black spots wavered in his vision and he felt his body trembling as it fought the hot flashes of agony that spread through him.

There was a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back down into his seat and holding him so that he couldn't topple over, even though he was inches away from doing so.

"Tony!" came Bruce's voice, fading in and out for a moment so that the billionaire only picked out a few words. He was pretty sure that some override code to JARVIS was spouted out, but he couldn't be sure. At this point, he wasn't even certain whether or not he had forbidden JARVIS to speak the moment Bruce had cornered him in his lab.

Tony reached around to lightly press against his wound. It felt wet and warm to the touch. Damn…he probably pulled out his stitches.

Bruce seemed to have noticed at the same time as Tony because his next words were laced with slight panic. "JARVIS! Call Steve and S.H.I.E.L.D!" barked the doctor.

"My apologies, Dr. Banner. Both Captain Rogers and Director Fury are currently busy. They wish to inform you that your presence is urgently needed," JARVIS replied.

"What? Why?"

"It seems as though the Enchantress has appeared again."

Tony's pain-ridden eyes connected with Bruce's and the latter could see the blind terror written across the Iron Man's face.

"Where?" Bruce said quietly.

"Several miles away from the estate's borders. Captain Rogers and Agents Barton and Romanoff have already left to intercept her."

"What? Why wasn't I informed?" Bruce yelled, already moving around quickly to pull Tony to the couch that Steve had forcefully brought in (he claimed that it was to entice Tony to sleep while working on a project). Tony didn't protest, too numb with fear and pain to work past the lump in the back of his throat and his stomach dropping like a stone.

"Master Stark forbade me to speak while you were in the lab," the calm voice responded.

Bruce inwardly swore and turned to Tony. "Tony, I have to go help them. They don't have a chance against her. Stay here and don't move. JARVIS will call Fury and someone will come help you."

Tony weakly grabbed the edge Bruce's shirt. No words left his mouth, but Bruce knew exactly what Tony wanted to say.

"I promise, nothing will happen to Steve, Clint, Natasha, or myself. I'll do everything in my power to protect all of us. Just…stay here and don't do anything stupid, got it?"

Bruce didn't really wait for an answer – his concern for his teammates had made his eyes tint green. He had to leave before the Other Guy hurt Tony further.

His trademark purple shirt was wrenched out of Tony's grasp and before Tony knew it, Bruce was out of sight. Somewhere in the distance, Tony was sure he heard the Hulk's roar.

It was that sound that roused him. Even as Hulk, Bruce didn't stand a chance against the Enchantress if she pulled the same trick on him. Worse, the Hulk would more than likely fight back against Steve, Clint, and Natasha if they tried to attack him and then Tony would have to deal with everyone injured and a guilty Bruce. It just wouldn't do. That sounded like way too much work.

Tony knew how mad the rest of the Avengers would be once they figured out what he was about to do. He would get lectures from all of them and probably get slapped around a little, but he couldn't see any other choice.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled the few feet to reach the far end of his workshop, using the wall as support.

"JARVIS, time to suit up."

"Sir, I advise against it. Director Fury has informed me that medics are ten minutes away."

"Good, tell them to meet us in the field. Let's go, JARVIS."

"Sir, your body will not be strong enough to sustain another battle. You are barely standing as it is."

"I didn't program you to argue with me."

"Actually, sir, you programmed me to help you. I will not be helping you if you put on the Mark VII."

Tony could have sworn he heard concern in the AI's voice, but there was no way in hell he was going to let the Avengers fight on such uneven terms.

Tony gritted his teeth. "JARVIS, I won't say it again. Suit up."

There was a pause. "Understood, sir. Director Fury has redirected the medics to meet you on site. He also said that he was going to put his foot up somewhere unpleasant if you die."

Tony couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"JARVIS, when this is all over, remind me to reprogram you to swear."

"Noted, sir. I look forward to it."

Tony rolled his eyes, just as his suit started build around him. He let out a whine when the back plates snapped into place, but it put enough pressure on his wound so that he knew he wouldn't bleed out on his way to…His thoughts stopped. Where the hell was the fight taking place anyway? Did Bruce even know where to go?

He groaned. "I swear to God, if Bruce ends up halfway across the world instead of where we're supposed to be at, I'm going to throw a bitch fit."

His mask covered his face and he could see a map with a blinking red light on the HUD. Not for the first time, he was glad that he had slipped trackers into all of his team's gear (minus Bruce, but that was because anything he wore was torn into pieces when he Hulked out).

A grim sort of determination took over Tony, making all his pains dull to a murmur, though he couldn't be sure if it was his meds kicking in. "Let's go."

JARVIS fired his thrusters and within seconds, he had burst through his garage's exit and he watched as the scenery zipped past him.

"Estimated time of arrival is two and a half minutes, sir," JARVIS informed.

Tony felt a drop of sweat drip down the side of his brow. Two and a half minutes…that was about as long as it took for Steve and Natasha to make a ragged mess out of him. He swallowed hard.

"Make that a minute and a half, JARVIS."

"Understood."

And then there was nothing else to do but pray to a God he didn't believe in that he wouldn't be too late.

To be continued...

First of all, I have to apologize for the fluff scene. I'm really bad at writing stuff that has anything to do with romance, but I wanted to work at it. Sorry if it's sappy and terrible.

Secondly, I'm even worse at anything relating to physics, so if my information about sound pressures and waves are wrong, I apologize. I did try looking things up, but I didn't quite understand what I was reading...But speaking of which, did anyone figure out why Tony and Bruce are the only ones unaffected by the Enchantress? Hint: it has nothing to do with being the Hulk or the Iron Man and everything to do with what Clint, Natasha, and Steve are. If not, feel free to guess and either I'll let you know if you're right or not via the review reply or you'll find out in the next chapter.

Thirdly, beef wellington is a recipe that literally takes like two days to make. It takes 24 hrs to make the stock and then 24 hrs to make the sauce. Basically, preparation from scratch takes a really long time and it's supposedly really hard to make properly.

And lastly, anyone notice the significance of code 3473? The numbers spell out something. I feel like Tony would be the kind of person to hide things in plain sight, so if you figure it out, kudos! If not, I'll explain it in the next chapter in like a footnote or something.

Meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks to all those who reviewed! Your words really inspired me to write more. I honestly got so stuck after writing the first part, but the reviews really pushed me through my writer's block. Thanks to all those who favorited and followed my story too!

Of course, I always feel a need to say this: please review! If you have any suggestions or anything, I'll love to hear from you!

~ Kanae Yuna