A/N: Sometimes, there will be suggestions for what music you can listen to while reading. But they will be merely suggestions, if you don't like it, feel free to ignore it (there's an author on this webpage who offered music suggestions-she wrote the Fallen Star series (Loki/Jane), they're awesome-and I really liked the idea). So, yeah ...

Part II: Goran Bregovic - Underground Tango

Chapter II–Once Down, Twice Up

'Twas deep; so deep of night,
When I saw what I had seen -
So truly deep of night,
When I went where I had been

Mark R Slaughter: Night of Nights

Rebecca couldn't help but gape. Of course, she'd seen Stark tower before, of course, she knew how big it was, but seeing it from the inside, all these floors hiding workshops and offices and—she supposed—actual apartments, walking past ceiling-high windows, selected paintings, and furniture so expensive she could maybe afford a couple pieces with her year's salary, things suddenly seemed much, much more impressive. And, if the fact that she'd always wanted to see it but tried to convince herself she really didn't need to had something to do with it, well, there was no one to point fingers at her.

"Lower floors are meant for project development, then there are offices and conference rooms, and the top is all mine. Well, right now I'm kind of sharing it a little, but it's still mine. Almost as good as my mansion. I had to make sure of that; my working habits are not exactly organised, as you probably know, because everybody somehow knows that, and if you didn't know before, you know now, and I hate to be stuck in a workshop with no food and all …"

Stark rambled on as they took the main elevator up; an enormous cube made of dark glass which looked so much better than the one in Rebecca's home, but really, that was just a some metal put together and this one …

"… but I have to warn you—my, um, residents are unlikely to be very pleased by your presence. Stressful day, still work to do, you understand?"

Rebecca only nodded. Stressful day. She'd awoken in a street, covered with debris, under a big piece of concrete, one side of which was leaning to what was left of a wall, the other side dug in the ground, so that it practically formed a shield over her. It was probably why she was alive now.

Alive. How hard it had been to grasp the meaning of this one simple word. She'd been lying for what seemed like ages, listening, trying to figure out what had been happening, and finally, when nothing but silence had answered, she'd slowly climbed out, rewarded with a view on an empty, demolishes street, remnants of smoke and dust still in the air.

She'd figured she was fine. There'd only been scratches on her skin and cuts in her clothes. Her bag had still been right there, along with a slight pain in the back of her head.

Sometime after that, she'd found out that her pendant had been broken, and the reality of the day's destruction had sunk in. The things itself wasn't anything special; small, made of steel, shaped like a cat with its back sloped and seen from the side. But, Leah had bought it for her after Tiger had died, and Rebecca hadn't taken it off since then. She could feel it lying on her breastbone even now, although now there was only a slightly jagged edge where the tail and hind legs should be, and it irritated her skin a little every time it moved, but she didn't care enough to take it off, and nothing would convince her to do so. It was her connection to Leah, dear Leah, who was no longer here, and not even her body was, because the flyer had exploded right in her face …

The elevator came to a stop and they exited.

"See, this is the private area, only the privileged few are allowed up here … Well, and those wonderful people who make dirt disappear, and—most importantly—food delivery. I would take you to the top, but it's been … redecorated. I should probably proclaim it as modern art and get people to pay for seeing it, a masterpiece called 'Hulk Smash!'"

Rebecca smiled despite herself; he had to just love his own voice, no person who didn't could ramble like this.

"Hulk is the big green … guy?"

She'd come too close to saying monster. Hell, it was human nature to call different beings monsters, but she'd seen that so-called monster take down the aliens, and the question arose who was the real monster there.

"Yes. Too bad Banner's gone, he ran at the first chance he got. Anger management issues. I still think he secretly does Pilates. Say hi to him for me if you ever meet him, he's a nice guy."

She chuckled slightly. It felt so surprisingly good listening to somebody just talk about everything and nothing. But, she really had to ask,

"Do you always talk so much?"

"Yes," snapped a female voice nearby. "Even in his sleep. You should seriously consider that before you go to bed with him."

"Wow, Pep, hold your horses. I'm not gonna sleep with her."

Before Rebecca could ask why everybody kept assuming she wanted to do something with Stark that involved—well, no, a bed wasn't really needed, and removing the clothes wasn't either—that was, plainly put, sex, Stark strode to a good-looking woman with reddish hair and kissed her square on the mouth.

"I missed you," he muttered. "But that was hardly a welcome."

The woman sighed. "What is she doing here, Tony?"

Strak looked almost apologetic, to Rebecca's surprise. His sigh mirrored the woman's one.

"Pepper, you know there's havoc in the city. I found her in the streets. Subway's not functioning. I just offered her a place to sleep."

"Tony …" Pepper shook her head. "That's nice of you, but you must be aware …"

"Relax. It's fine."

Their voices were lowered enough for Rebecca to get the hint. There was something they didn't want her to know, which in turn only made her more curious. Pretending she wasn't trying to eavesdrop, well, in a way, she let her eyes wander over the corridor. There wasn't really anything to see except a small staircase behind Pepper. It was too narrow and insignificant to be the main one. Probably some kind of a personal way.

"Fine." She heard Pepper give in. "But it's your responsibility. Your fault. And I will have words with you later."

"I knew you can be nice." Stark turned back to his guest. "Pep, this is Rebecca Reed." Ah, so he did remember my name. "Rebecca, this is Pepper Pots, my CEO."

Their gazes met. Rebecca felt like a rat in a lab, put in a glass box for everyone to study, but it only lasted a moment. Pepper smiled, although it only partly reached her eyes, and said,

"Welcome."

"Thank you. 'm sorry if I'm a bother."

"You're not." Stark. "Not at all. Right Pepper? Hey, where is everybody?"

"Natasha and Clint had to go with SHIELD, as you surely know already. Steve's in the lounge room. Thor is still ... busy."

Rebecca had heard people avoid certain subjects enough times to know when there was more to it. And in this case, it certainly was.

Stark had been right; his 'residents' hadn't been particularly glad to see her. Well, they hadn't actually seen her. But she'd heard two hushed masculine voices join Pepper's after the latter had asked Stark to come out for a second and Rebecca'd been left in the lounge room alone. She hadn't been able to make out what they were saying, but something in their tones bordered on frantic from time to time. Not to mention angry.

She hadn't stayed long. Claiming she was tired—and she was, really—she'd got Stark to show her to a guest room (of course it had a bathroom on its own, the rich bastard), where she'd stumbled into the bed and slept soundly, dreamlessly.

Until she'd awoken.

She never had needed a lot of sleep—it must have run in her family—which worked just fine for her, but there were moments when she hated her own body for it. Like now. She didn't want to lie in the dark, wide awake. It always led to thinking, and thinking was as dangerous as jumping off Stark tower without a parachute. Feeling … Feeling was even worse.

She did everything she could. She closed her eyes, lay still, focused on breathing.

Ten deep breaths before she turned onto her side restlessly.

Here we go again.

Finally, Rebecca kicked the covers away. It was no use; she wasn't going to fall back asleep anytime soon, so why not get some air. She wished she could just cross the corridor and find Leah working, and she would silently sit beside her, watching her fingers shoot over the keyboard, like she used to. But this wasn't their apartment.

There was no Leah anymore.

She walked down the hallway, still taking in all the high ceilings and glassy surfaces, searching for a terrace of a kind, when a staircase caught her attention. It didn't look like anything special, but it was the same staircase she'd seen before. It was enough to arouse her curiosity. The night was far from over, and she did not want to lie in the dark and think about Leah until pain consumed her again and she choked on tears. Not here. She felt too vulnerable in this giant tower.

Her steps were almost inaudible, black shoes softly tapping against the stairs. She wasn't even too shocked when she found herself facing glass doors with something that seemed like a pretty good security system. Only, the doors were left open a crack. They slid away soundlessly under the pressure of her fingers, and Rebecca slipped in. Her eyes grew wide at the amount of technology on display; computers, machines, parts of the Iron Man suit, things whose purpose she couldn't guess. Leah might have, but Leah was a computer freak, not technology, and besides—

No. No more thoughts about Leah.

She walked on, halting in front of another door, this one made of metal. Of course it needed a security code, how could it not. She turned away with a sigh. It didn't really matter. Except …

If such incredible things were here, then what was hidden behind this door?

She narrowed her eyes at the dial. They were normal keys, not hologram, which was strange enough. Still, what were the odds of her punching in just the right number? Pretty close to zero. Her fingers lingered over the dial, trembling. She shouldn't be doing her. Stark'd been kind enough to invite her over, and she was trying to find out his secrets.

Well, if he caught her, she could always claim it was all just means to get a story. If the lie didn't die on her lips.

But what would happen if she tried the wrong number?

She couldn't do it. Instead of touching the dial, she laid her palm onto the cold surface of the door—and jumped when it moved. She pressed a little stronger, the door opening yet another crack. Heck, why was the lock even here? Was Stark so sure no one would ever try to get in? So sure he could stop them?

She stopped on her own, though, trying to take in all the computers around her only for a moment before her gaze settled on the obvious, a space on a landing in the middle of the room limited by glass walls. A cage.

Even Tiger would be proud on her soundless steps.

If he wasn't dead. Like everybody else.

A knot tightened in her throat as she ascended the stairs. The heap of black and green she'd seen proved to be a person lying in the middle, curled in a ball, with no place to hide. She stopped just shy of the wall, taking in the clothes and strands of black hair falling over the collar. Recognition kicked in; he'd saved her life.

And, it was confusing her a little whether she should be thankful or whether there was no reason to be so, since the guy had seemed to have a flying thing just like the monsters had, and maybe he'd just wanted that piece of building for an attack, but even if his actions weren't meant to save her, if he hadn't spared her a thought, the fact was she was still alive, and it had been him who'd stopped the concrete just above her body.

Slowly, her feet carried her to the other side, eyes darting over the room before they settled on him again, studying. His face—god, it was pale—was partly hidden behind his arms—his wrists were held together by some sort of handcuffs—strands falling over his forehead in a dishevelled manner. Eyes closed; he seemed to be sleeping. And there was something metallic on his face …

A muzzle. The cruelty of it struck her, and she shuddered. He was a person, not an animal! And yet they'd bound and gagged him, thrown him into a cage like a wild animal. The Avengers, the protectors.

Good and bad were just two sides of the same coin.

But who was he? He looked nothing like the monsters she'd seen attack people. Instead, he looked as human as she, must have been human. So, why had they locked him up? Was he one of the bad guys? What had he done?

She pressed her palm against the glass, more subconsciously than not, just looking at him, as if that would give her all the answers she'd started seeking the last day. Maybe he could. Theoretically. But praxis was a far cry from theory in this case.

She shook her head mentally. Outwardly, he didn't move, not until his eyelids fluttered, and she found herself staring into the greenest, the saddest eyes she'd ever seen. Just a moment, just a look, before his eyes slid close again, but she was frozen in place, wide-eyed, shaken to the core. She hadn't thought anything could disturb her so much, not after she'd lost what little of the family she'd had left, but his gaze had left an imprint on her, one she didn't seem to be able to shake.

Who was he?

What had really happened?

"I just want to know the truth …"

Her voice was barely above a whisper. There was no response, but she didn't dare speak louder, just kept her eyes on him. Was he sleeping again? Was he hurt? Drugged?

He didn't look like someone who'd help monsters destroy Earth. If anything, he looked like a child who desperately needed a hug.

He didn't look like a mad person at all.

Minutes passed before she managed to tear herself away from the cage. She contemplated the whole computer system before she slowly pulled her sleeves over her hands and even more slowly approached it. Her heart was hammering in her throat.

Good and bad, right and wrong—it was all just a blur. Always.

Her hands shook, and she tried to gain control over her fingers, forcing them to come down onto the keyboard.

She wouldn't go as far as to think she'd spent all the sleepless nights beside Leah for a purpose. That would be preposterous, wouldn't it? She wasn't as good as her sister, not at all, but Leah was dead, and she was still alive. And what was the point of pondering the presence or absence of gratitude when her fingers were flying over the keys, when she already found what she was looking for?

Her heart was in an uproar, conscience too, but she did nothing to stop the glass walls from soundlessly slipping away, only went on to wiping out all the traces she'd left behind. Once or twice, she dared to look up, finding the man still curled up on the floor. He was not awake, that was for sure, but she didn't go to him. Switching the system off, she left the way she'd come, ascending the stairs, disappearing into her guest room again, and literally fell onto the bed.

She would think no more. About anything. Not Leah, not the Avengers, not the guy's mesmerizing eyes.

And, certainly not about what she'd just done.

Because she, too, wasn't sure what exactly that was.

She fell asleep, holding on to the remains of her kitten pendant.