Chapter 2: Tony Stark: Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist, Crazy Person

Tony tried to block out the constant sound of Rogers scribbling away at the pad of paper. In all fairness, scribble wasn't a fair description of the modicum of talent the man possessed. Whatever you wanted to call it, the blond and what his hands did had managed to get under Stark's skin from the moment they had met and thus, everything he did aggravated Tony. Even the damn scribbles. At least their newest member of the gang of the mentally imbalanced had the decency to act like the whole situation was screwy. Steve seemed too accepting of everything, following the shrink's advice to the letter with little to no hesitation. It seemed like he finally had a sane person in the room with him because even if Barton did not say it aloud, he shared Tony's vibe that appearances were deceiving.

The minimalistic setting was a huge contrast to the glory that was his Malibu estate, but that was true no matter where he was; the main thing he could do without was the inspirational posters that were plastered all over the walls. He imagined the hallow halls of this place were pretty quiet before he arrived, though he did take credit in the fact that the nursing staff was definitely earning their pay now that they didn't have just the golden boy to tend to. Bruce however kept to himself after he arrived despite Tony's attempts to form some sort of camaraderie with the fellow scientist.

The clock on the wall struck five and Karl began his task of rounding up the herd for dinner. The billionaire shuddered at the thought of eating the grey mush that often passed for food in this place. He may not be running his company at the moment but surely someone could attach a bonus to his cheques to ensure editable meals from time to time. He was Tony Stark for god's sake.

Stark bit back a retort to all the oohs and ahs the orderlies showered upon Rogers' latest creation in favour to sticking close to Barton. The man was trying to hide his unease but Tony could see the subtle signs. Like his immediate dislike of Steve and ease with Bruce, there was something in Barton that instantly clicked into place, something that made him want to wrap the man in bubble wrap.

The four walked down the hall to the cafeteria, not under guard, but never far from a watchful eye ready with restraints and a quick tranquilizer to ease their pain. The nurses at the main desk offered welcoming smiles and blushed when Steve returned them; Clint scoffed and looked elsewhere. Bruce still had his nose stuck in his book and Clint was rather impressed at the man's spatial awareness that he didn't walk into anything. It also lent credit to the fact that he had probably been there for awhile and thus backed Tony's earlier explanations. The slight edge that appeared in the nurses' gazes as he and Stark walked past definitely signified that they were trouble. Part of Barton secretly wished he could remember his arrival just for the sheer satisfaction of having made their lives difficult.

There was that weird feeling again. As far as he knew, he had never met those nurses before, so why would he take any joy in making them miserable? There was also the fact that despite his lone wolf tendencies, he had allowed Stark to stick close by; it almost made him feel safe. The last time he had the same feeling had been when Barney had pulled him into a secret cubbyhole their parents had yet to find, in order to protect him from his parents' version of dodge ball, the one played with empty bottles of Jack instead of balls.

He had never been a trusting soul, the world providing example after example of the stupidity of giving anyone any part of you when they always crushed it like a piece of garbage, but all three men exuded a trustworthiness that was hard to ignore. Perhaps they were kindred souls, enjoying another lifetime of friendship that didn't seem to quite transcend into this lifetime.

The cafeteria seemed rather large considering it was only the four of them; the other three large rectangle tables remained empty as the group sat at the one in the middle. Bruce took the chair at the end, still more interested in his book than anything in the real world, while Steve took the hard plastic chair one down from Banner. Tony tugged at Barton's shirt sleeve, pulling him to the opposite side as Steve and several seats down. It didn't take a genius to know that the new arrival was highly dangerous and even if he wasn't mentally unstable, putting hands on the man was probably inadvisable but he didn't feel threatened. It was probably the medication, but the inventor couldn't shake the feeling that he could safely put his life in Clint's hands and that was more interesting than anything that had happened in months.

Karl left his charges without as much as a word, locking the door behind him. Tony caught the way Barton flinched as the lock snapped in place giving the whole situation a more prison like feel. "It's so we don't go postal, take our plastic spoons and go on a killing spree through the halls," explained Stark, with as much levity as he could muster. He remembered his first few days at the facility all too well, the fear, paranoia, the terrible sensation of being utterly alone in every sense of the word. It was incredibly disheartening, knowing that the world and your life were just beyond the lifeless beige walls, but you were trapped in a padded box. A box that was excluded, forbidden from participating in the world that you knew to be yours, it hurt, and so, Tony stayed as close as he could to Clint.

Tony smiled brightly as Frank made his way from the kitchen area carrying a tray with four plastic cups; the fake pleasantry lasted until the orderly had deposited a cup in front of him and moved on to the next disturbed soul. The inventor dumped the contents of the cup on the counter, watching the rainbow of pills roll and clink before him. He had his sorted into little piles by color and shape before he noticed Barton staring at his cup wearily.

"I'll trade you a pink triangle for one of your greens."

Clint snorted and shook his cup of pills again. "You take these willingly?"

Stark shrugged his shoulders. "It's the least painful method. They get a little uppity if you don't take your meds. This beats being tied down and having needles stuck in you, trust me."

Tony had no more mentioned needles than image of Frank looming over him pushing something through an IV came to mind. The archer's heart started to race; the memory was too jumbled to decide whether the man was trying to help or hurt Barton, but the feelings of panic and desperation washed over him all the same. As the memory cleared he could feel Frank's eyes on him, the man was at the kitchen door watching like a hawk. Deciding it was the lesser of the potential evils, Barton downed the contents of the cup in one go. Whatever was going on around there, he was going to have to take his time in piecing it together; there was too much of an unknown threat lurking for any kind of outright revolt.

"What mush do you have for us today Bill?" asked the billionaire as the next orderly collected their empty medication cups and placed the very unappetizing food trays down in front of them.

"It's not mush Mr Stark, it's meatloaf and if you don't like it you don't have to eat dinner," Bill replied.

"You'd think with what my people pay this place, that starving the patents would be frowned upon," said Tony to Bill's retreating back. He picked up the plastic fork and poked at the depressing lump of food. If ever there was a reason to be declared sane it was to get out of that place and go buy a cheeseburger, hell at this point he was willing to buy a whole chain of burger joints.

Tony had become so engrossed in determining the species that was evolving on his plate that Barton startled him when he spoke, flinching away from his companion.

"So you read my file on why I'm here, was there anything else in there?"

The question had such a genuine and honest quality to it that Tony couldn't help but feel bad for the guy, assuming Clint's claim that he couldn't remember anything that lead him to the facility was true. He on the other hand could remember everything before arriving here in crystal clarity despite his fondest desire to not. "I only had a few moments with it. Basically got through the summary on the first page, never saw the good stuff they bury further in the report. Sorry."

The archer nodded a little dejectedly and went back to pushing the gelatinous blob that passed for peas around his plate. After a moment he asked, a little more subdued, "How did you end up here? I mean, you'd think someone as well off as you would be someplace that at least serves a little better food, not to mention more individualized."

The smile didn't quite reach Tony's eyes but he tried to shrug off whatever ghosts popped into his head. "My parents died when I was young." The words hung in the air as the muscles around Stark's eyes twitched to hold back the tears that had been so skilfully held back for decades. He chewed over his next words until he was certain he had the momentary lapse under control. "Obadiah Stane, family friend and business partner stepped up to the plate. He looked after the company and me until I was old enough to take the helm."

The billionaire cleared his throat. Maybe the medication had kicked in, but he was glad that his new sidekick wasn't rushing him. Hell, the guy had the decency to look overly enamoured with the meatloaf when Stark started to trail off. "Long story short, a business trip to Afghanistan didn't go so well and I ended up spending a few months in a cave being tortured and then there's this thing," he explained before lifting up his shirt to reveal the arc reactor.

Clint cocked his head to the side as he took in the combination of technological brilliance and medical ingenuity. His hand started to rise to reach out and touch it, when he flinched back violently, clutching his hand as though it had been burned. The memories that had been streaks of color took on a distinctly blue tinge and his chest began to ache. It became hard to breathe, and he had to fight for each gasp of air he managed to pull into his lungs.

Tony watched with increasing alarm as Barton began to panic, the action wasn't out of place within those hallow walls but the cause raised an alarm within the inventor as well. He quickly pulled his shirt down and placed his hands on Clint's shoulders, fists clenching the fabric of his shirt tight and offering support to the trembling man.

"Look it's gone, it's alright Barton," soothed Tony, "You're going to be alright Clint."

The word hurts almost as much as the blue ice that was coating his past. There was something familiar and reassuring in that sentiment but it wasn't Stark's voice he heard when they were spoken. He got his breathing back under control only to realize that everyone's eyes were on him. Banner had stop with his spoon hovering in front of his lips, an odd look of concern for someone he had only met an hour earlier. Rogers was staring while trying to appear as though he wasn't, while the two orderlies were watching the situation with increasing attention, ready to jump in and remedy the situation with an arsenal of needles, pills and padded restraints.

"What did you say?" panted Barton as he locked eyes with Tony.

Stark glanced towards the orderlies who were itching to intervene and remove the future problem, shaking his head slightly in warning. They backed off but didn't retreat completely into the kitchen. Tony was all too familiar with irritated nurses deciding to subdue their problem patient and had no desire to watch Barton withstand their not so tender mercies. Focusing back on his companion he replied, "I said, you're going to be alright. Just breathe, in and out, there you go."

"Sorry, I don't know what happened."

"No worries. Crazy's kind of a common occurrence around here. You didn't spook the wild life."

"Did that seem normal to you?" asked the archer with a conviction that screamed he was certain it wasn't.

"Normal?" chucked Stark. "I think the very definition of normal is why we're here and not wandering around with the normal people.

"No, that's not what I meant. Your… thing…"

"Arc reactor," supplied Tony.

"Whatever, your arc reactor, Bruce's supposed anger issues and Steve's superhero complex, don't you feel as if they're something more, like all this isn't right?"

"Look I get it, I had the same feelings when I arrived. I flipped out and accused Obe of orchestrating my kidnapping and I thought I turned the means to my escape into this superhero but those feelings go away Barton. Reality sucks but it does get clearer around here, just give it time." Tony watched as Clint nodded and slumped back in his chair. He had been trying to reassure the man but he wasn't sure if he was really convincing Barton or himself.

There was an odd parallel to their stories. True, Tony remembered everything that had led to him being committed and more than what he had been told happened. He remembered the events in Afghanistan and returning back to civilization, even if someone had said that he didn't know what he was talking about. Someone actually bringing him to the facility, being processed and admitted, those things were a blank. He could recall battling Stane in his Iron Man suit but after that, his next clear memory was waking up in his room, staring at padded white walls wondering how the hell he got there. Barton's underlying belief that things were not copasetic reawakened the idea that the shrinks around there had spent weeks convincing him was nothing more than a coping mechanism for the trauma he had suffered.

The pair ate their supposed meal in silence, both seeming to hold onto the idea that maybe they did belong there. Things always seemed easier to accept with a full stomach around there.