Day 1
When he woke up, he kept his goddam eyes close and willed away the damned sensation of awareness, of consciousness. He wanted to not be. To not exist. The Buddhist calls it the ultimate goal. Nirvana isn't about goofing around with seventy-two virgins – been there, done that by the way – and a happily-ever-after. No desires lead to no suffering. A state of just being. He wanted that now. Certainly beat being holed up in God knows where in a body so weak he couldn't climb back into bed. It sapped his lifeforce just tugging the pillow and blanket onto the floor. So, that was where he slept. He ached in places where he was pressed up against hard surfaces. When he sat up, the blankets rolled off his shoulders and something shifted in his peripheral view. He turned –
"Fucking hell –"
The room was as sparse, with the addition of one man squatting some three yards away from him. He knew that face anywhere. The name Steve Rogers spilled from his mouth so carelessly, and he tried to crawl to Steve, but his stupid, stupid pins-and-needles wouldn't let him.
He had so many questions.
"What is this place?" he croaked first. "Who did this, Steve? Are you OK?"
Steve watched him impassively. He didn't budge from his spot.
"What?" Tony felt his temper fraying near the edges. "I know it's an empty room. Talk about the paintwork or something."
"What do you remember, Tony?"
"I remember I was dead." He gave up. He sat huddled against the leg of the bed, and panted. The only courteous thing that a super-soldier in his prime could do when faced with a bed-ridden, life-long buddy who was hitting four-oh soon was to come the heck closer, and that was when the bottom of Tony's stomach plummet. There was not an ounce of recognition in the depths of Steve's familiar blue eyes. Only dispassion, and mild curiosity. Like one would have when studying a strange animal caught from the wild.
Steve clasped his knees, and stood up slowly. Tony backed up against the bed. His instincts dictated it. "You're a Skrull?"
"… No."
"An LMD? You're not him."
"I am Steve Rogers."
"No, you're not. I know him all his life." The life after serving his tenure as Capsicle, that is. He could read Steve's mind from a freaking sneeze and the vibes this impostor gave off was anything but. "What have you done to him?"
"You are a miracle, Tony," Steve replied instead, and he paced the room, still a safe distance away from Tony. "I put you back together because I knew you would wish it. Death still frightens you." Tony's grip on his pillow tightened, and he was this close to chucking it at Steve's face. "Once again, you defied the odds and Mother Nature itself with your science and cunning. You just had to… be here. I must admit, this makes my victory a lot more… satisfying," and Steve's lips curled into a twisted smirk, so unkind it marred his handsome features.
"So, what? Did Carol resign or something? No more pre-empting crimes, guilty before proven innocent bullshit –"
"I told you a story, Tony. Long time ago, when you were fast asleep. As I stood by your coffin," and another spurt of chill shot up Tony's back, "I explained to you why I had to do what I did. Why HYDRA's triumph is the only thing worth fighting for. Worth dying for. I sympathise with the passing of our great friends, I do, but it was necessary."
Fuck this shit. The door was ajar. He could see the light from the corridor beaming in. He threw his blanket aside, and started his long crawl towards freedom. This fake, deranged Steve could go screw itself.
"The difference between you and me, Tony, is to what bloody end we'd uphold the institutions we pledge our life and loyalty to. You always learn to exist within its limitations. You told me, to not do that was criminal arrogance. So, you become… in some ways, something smaller. Less free. You play ball with it, you tinker – understand the corruption to its deepest core before you upend it all to hell. You reinvent the rules. Change paradigms. Answer to no one," Steve let off a snide chuckle, "not even Death."
Tony's forearms were chaffing, and the slow crawl on rough carpet was agony with each push forward. His flesh burned, and wetness prickled by the rim of his eyes.
"The hypocrisy of it! And the genius! By some perverse ways, you've opened my eyes. Despite the overhauls you and I have lived through, the system is still corrupted top to bottom. It's not SHIELD. It's not the Avengers. It's all of you, Tony. Every single of you superheroes. Your petty squabbles and thirst for power let the people down. Your astronomical ego! The same mistakes repeated over."
Tony stretched one arm for the door. So fucking close –
"Even then, there is still one other thing I admire of you, Tony."
His fingertips scrabbled at the door, but thick, strong arms suddenly hooked under him. His body was lifted cleanly off the ground, and he was in Steve's embrace, pressed up against a strong chest as Steve carried him away. Effortless. He clutched at Steve's broad shoulders for purchase, and the tears finally gave way. He looked up at Steve's face, fearful, but Steve's attention was on the bed he was walking towards.
"The whole Avenging shenanigans hadn't been futile. I learned that it's not always about avoiding catastrophe or destruction. We should capitalise on these adversities to build ourselves something stronger. If only you were there, Tony, sitting amongst the honoured guests at my inauguration as SHIELD's Director. I imagined you would've at least been impressed."
And Steve set Tony back on the mattress, with tenderness and care an old friend would afford. Tony knew this body. The same strength in the bones and muscle, the military precision of his gait – this was Steve Rogers. He was not mistaken!
"You're the most brilliant visionary I have ever worked with, and I've lived a long life, Tony. But, even with all your intelligence and influence on the goings of this world, look around. Does the planet look saved?"
Steve pried Tony's fingers from his shoulders with absurd ease, and bent down to retrieve the nest of blanket and pillow on the floor. He gave them a generous dusting, and eased first the pillow under Tony's head.
"It's not about you. It's not even about me." Steve spread the blanket over Tony's form, and tucked the hems meticulously under his arms. "The other truth is, I'm not the man you think I am. But everything he did, every memory, every moment – I carry it inside me. I know every thought he ever had about you, for instance." Steve's callous thumb erased the wet trails on Tony's cheeks. "He loved you. And he admired you, even when you fought. All those times you thought you outsmarted him? Those times you thought you beat him? He had you, every single time. He could've beaten you, and he chose instead to go easy on you. To spare you."
No matter how many times Steve wiped the tears away, they wouldn't stop flowing, and Steve gave up, too. He braced the edge of the bed, and for the fleetest moment, Tony hoped Steve would suddenly break into the smile as warm as a thousand suns, and cheer "April's Fool!" and then the Avengers would come pouring through that door –
"I want you to see this, Tony. I am going to destroy everything you ever built. I am going to tear down these institutions that you've used to give yourselves power. From the ashes of corruption we – HYDRA – are going to build something better."
Tony couldn't stop the sobbing. He choked, and he twitched, but he was utterly spent. Steve leaned into him again, and his lips moved as the words stream forth, "Hail… HYDRA."
When Steve left, Tony cried openly again into his pillow.