When Mike opened his eyes, it was to darkness.

At least it was dark in the beginning. But the more his eyes got accustomed to the lack of light around him the more he could actually make out. There was a small lightbulb hanging on the ceiling, its sickly yellow light barely reaching the edges of the space he was in. The walls around him were made of grey concrete, cracks penetrating it like hundreds of small spider webs. There was a small cot hanging from the wall and a bucket in the corner. The only way out of the room was an iron door with a closed hatch.

Mike still felt numb, could barely feel his arms and legs, so he just laid there and had a silent freak-out. He had been kidnapped! He, Mike Ross, college drop-out and former drug dealer had been kidnapped straight from the Grand Prix of Monaco. It certainly sounded like it came straight out of some James Bond movie. Whoever had kidnapped him, though, was probably after Tony. Mike was very well aware that he just wasn't important enough to be professionally kidnapped, but Tony Stark´s personal assistant certainly was. So, whoever had him probably wanted knowledge about Tony.

How far would they go, though? Scenes from the many movies Mike had watched flashed in front of his eyes, displaying screaming people, blood, severed fingers, crying people reading messages in front of a camera, 'we don't negotiate with terrorists'. Mike´s breath hitched as he thought about all the horrible things his kidnappers could do to him and he could feel panic rise within. It was like being dropped into ice cold water, the coldness suddenly engulfing him and making it difficult to breath, to just open his mouth and let in the air. He was drowning and he couldn't swim; there was this pressure on his chest and he couldn't move…he needed to move, he needed to get away; needed to escape….

"Hey, hey, hey, relax." Mike could hear a voice through the thick haze that surrounded his mind. "You need to calm down. I know, the situation isn't ideal, but you need to get a grip on yourself. Listen to my voice, nothing but my voice. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out." Mike followed the stranger´s instructions and slowly but surely it felt like he could breathe again; the numbness in his legs and arms receding and his surroundings sharpening again.

Mike turned his head and looked at the person who had helped through the panic attack. Brown hair, once probably gelled back, but now dirty and dishevelled, brown eyes who looked at him with worry, defined features and quite a few laughing lines, though they didn't make the man look old, but sophisticated instead. When Mike saw what the man was wearing he couldn't help but chuckle.

"What´s so funny?" the man asked.

"We´re in some creepy dungeon and you´re wearing a three-piece suit," Mike replied. He couldn't help himself, but once he started laughing, he just couldn't stop anymore. He laughed and laughed, until his side hurt and his laughs turned into wheezing coughs. Maybe he had finally turned insane, or maybe this was the only way he could process everything without falling apart, because it definitely wasn't funny. No, not at all.

The man´s suit was torn, holey and had dirt and other, unidentifiable, substances on and the vest was completely unbuttoned, some of the buttons missing, but even buried under all the grime the man made for an impressive figure and Mike wondered how he looked when he wasn't held captive in subpar conditions. He hoped he would find out.

"Are you finished?" the man asked drily after Mike´s coughs had abated. "Or anything else around here you want to laugh about?"

"I think I´m fine," Mike replied. He sat up and let his legs dangle from the cot he was lying on.

"What´s your name?" Mike asked after a while. "I can´t call you 'the mysterious man' in my head all the time."

"Harvey Specter," the man replied. "And you are?"

"Mike Ross," Mike answered him. Harvey´s eyebrows rose.

"Tony Stark´s personal assistant?" he commented. "How intriguing."

"How do you know who I am?" Mike asked apprehensively. People usually didn't know who he was. Next to Tony everything else kind of faded into the background, the billionaire having the uncanny ability to make everyone and everything only paying attention to him and to be honest, Mike quite liked not being hounded by paparazzi like Pepper had been during her tenure as Tony´s PA.

"I´m name partner at Pearson Specter Litt," Harvey told Mike with obvious pride in his voice. "We handle Stark Industries' East Coast business, so we keep up with everything Mr Stark does in case it backfires on him, which, to be honest, it often does." Fears that Harvey was some kind of stalker or even worse in cahoots with his kidnappers laid to rest, Mike allowed himself to relax again.

"So, why did they take you?" he inquired. "Come to think of it, who are 'they'?"

"I don´t know who they are," Harvey shrugged. "They took me a few days ago. I know the identity of someone they´re after." Harvey didn't offer anything further and Mike didn't ask. Neither of them could be sure that the other wasn't some plant their kidnappers had placed to earn their trust.

"So, you´re a lawyer?" Mike asked Harvey, bringing the topic back on more comfortable grounds. Harvey´s eyes immediately lit up.

"I am. Best closer of the city," he boasted.

"I wanted to be a lawyer, too," Mike admitted. "But I never got the chance."

"Why that?" Harvey inquired.

"Got expelled from college and the Dean there made sure to blacklist me at Harvard," Mike replied.

"You wanted to go to Harvard?"

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "I´d have totally blown them out of the water."

"As someone who´s been to Harvard I find that hard to believe," Harvey replied.

"What if I told you I consume knowledge like no one you´ve ever met?" Mike boasted.

"I´d say you´re full of crap," Harvey shot back without missing a beat.

"Ask me something. Anything," Mike dared him.

"Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors, including…" Harvey began.

"Including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable interference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff and the nature of the damages themselves," Mike finished the sentence.

"How did you know that?" Harvey asked shocked.

"I learned it," Mike answered cheekily. "I was bored one day, so I read the BarBri Legal Handbook."

"Okay, hotshot," Harvey said. "I´m gonna show you what a Harvard attorney can do. Pick a topic."

"Stock option backdating."

"Although backdating options is legal, violations arose related to disclosures under RIC section 409A," Harvey recited.

"You forgot about Sarbanes-Oxley," Mike commented.

"The statute of limitations renders Sarbanes-Oxley mute post-2007," Harvey replied.

"Well, not if you can find actions to cover up the violation as established in the Sixth Circuit May 2008," Mike countered.

"I´m impressed," Harvey confessed. "I´ll admit that you may have made it through Harvard if you´d been there."

"I used to be pretty bitter that the chance was taken from me," Mike told the other man, "but I´m good where I´m now and I´d like to think that I can help more people by preventing Tony Stark from taking over the world than I could have helped as a lawyer." Harvey was about to reply something, but then the door was pushed open and two men entered the room. Both were wearing tactical masks and black body armour and had their hands on their guns which were aimed straight at Harvey and Mike.

"Stand up!" one of the men shouted. "Hands in the air and to the wall." Hastily, Mike and Harvey stood up and followed the man´s order. When he seemed satisfied, he nodded towards the open door which apparently was the sign for a third men to enter. If Mike had ever met the man on the open street, he probably wouldn't have paid any attention to him. He was one of those people who practically screamed blandness at you, small, wispy and wearing black glasses that made his eyes stand out like a bug. He wore a white doctor´s overall and in his right hand he held a clipboard.

The man let his gaze wander over the two of them, as if he had an important decision to make, and then he pointed at Mike. "Take him." The two armed men stepped forward, grabbed Mike´s arms and dragged him towards the door. For the first time Mike saw what was behind the iron door that kept him and Harvey imprisoned: A long hallway with iron doors on either side, pipes hanging from the ceiling and everything illuminated in the same sickly light as his prison cell.

One of the many doors was open and when the doctor and his entourage passed by, Mike was able to catch a short glimpse on what was behind: A single metal chair, straps hanging at its side to fixate whoever was placed on it. To solitary lamps stood behind the chair and above it all hovered some ring-like device with just enough of a gap to place a head within. The whole thing exuded vileness so deep that Mike was glad when they had passed the room.

Finally, they arrived in the last room at the end of the hallway; some kind of laboratory with all kinds of chemicals and instruments placed all over it. A man was standing in front of one of the desks, flanked by two heavily armed guards and wearing a white lab coat. There was a broad smile on his face, but it just looked creepy instead of welcoming.

"Ah, ah, welcome to my humble abode," the man started to speak. "I´m Dr Meyer and I´ll be your host for the foreseeable future." Mike didn't reply anything, too confused and shocked by what was going on.

"You have questions, don´t you, Mike?" Meyer continued. "I can call you Mike, can I? We´ll be seeing much of each other in the future, so we can do away with all those bothersome titles and such, don't you think?"

"What am I doing here?" Mike asked, finally having found his voice again.

"Well, you are in possession of something that the organisation I work for wants," Meyer answered. "A formula, you see, one that makes everything it comes in contact with stronger than you can imagine." A cold shudder ran down Mike´s spin. How did they know? He had never told anyone, had never used what was ingrained in his brain in public, hadn't even shown Tony or Pepper (who wouldn't betray him anyway) so how had some criminal organisation gotten hold of that information? Something must have shown on his face, for Meyer continued gleefully.

"Desperation and money makes men do things you wouldn't expect of them," he told Mike gleefully. "For example, betraying one´s best friend. Your friend – Trevor, I think was his name – was both: desperate and short of money. It seems after you left him his source of affluence dried up and left him high and dry. So, we approached him with a hefty sum and he was more than eager to tell us how you were an integral part in creating the 'Super Weed' you two were distributing."

"You´re lying," Mike protested weakly, but there was no conviction behind it. As much as Mike liked to believe that Trevor would never betray him, he could just imagine his best friend desperate for money because he just wasn't willing to cut back the level of spending he had grown accustomed to ever since they had started dealing. Maybe Trevor hadn't really thought of the consequences of his action, maybe he had, but Mike was pretty sure that enough zeros on the check had silenced any qualms Trevor might have had.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Meyer asked. "Now, I haven't brought you here to tell you about your friend´s betrayal. I want the formula."

"Well, I wanna be king of the world, but that won´t happen, so I guess we both have to be satisfied with what we have," Mike taunted. He knew that it probably wasn't the wisest course of action, but he needed every little bit of bravado he could muster so that he wouldn't falter like a house of cards.

"Besides, how can you even know that what I have is the formula you seek? I could have a faulty memory, for all you know."

"I think a session in the Chair will loosen your memory," Meyer told him with a sadistic smile on his face. As if they had been waiting for some invisible command, the guards grabbed Mike again and dragged him out of the room, back into the hallway, towards the mechanical contraption that loomed over them like an eldritch abomination.

As they strapped Mike into the chair, Meyer continued talking: "Usually, the Chair is used to bury memories, but it can also be used for the opposite." He ran his hand over the cold metal like he was caressing a lover´s skin. The creepiness of it all made Mike shudder in revulsion.

"Let´s take a look at what we can find in your mind, shall we?" He pushed a button and then there was only pain.

Mike stared at the blackboards that were covered with letters and numbers he couldn't understand. Mr Stark had said that they were important and that he had to remember them all, so he really, really tried because he didn't want to disappoint Mr Stark.

"Do you have it all?" Mr Stark wanted to know. Mike closed his eyes and a perfect replica of the room with the formula on its blackboards rose in front of his inner eye. He nodded shyly.

"Good," Mr Stark hummed and began to erase the content of the blackboards.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. The blackboard shattered and Mike screamed. He ran, stumbled, fell to the ground and robbed forwards until he was safely hidden behind one of the many book shelves that were positioned over the whole room. Carefully gazing around it, Mike could see Mr Stark on the other side of the room, cowering behind his desk. Mike´s eyes widened when he saw the gun Mr gun was clutching in his hand.

"Is that all Hydra manages to muster?" Mr Stark jeered, his face contorted into an ugly mask of rage. Then he sprung up and fired the gun several times, his hands steady and his aim true. Mike turned his head towards the door and screamed when he saw one of the waiters stand there, eyes blown up wide, an expression of shock on his face while his white shirt slowly turned red. The gun the man had grasped in one hand fell to the ground, the thud tearing through the silence of the room like gunshots themselves. The man fell on the ground and didn't move any longer. Blood seeped onto the wooden floor.

Mike´s hands were shaking. He felt like he was going to be sick, but his dad had told him to behave while they were here and throwing up on Mr Stark´s floor definitely wasn't well behaved.

"Michael." Mike looked up to see Mr Stark staring back at him. There was no concern, no worry nor compassion in his gaze. "You can´t tell anyone what happened here."

"I can´t?" Mike asked scared. "But dad says lying is bad."

"Well, Michael, if you tell anyone those bad men will come back for you and your parents," Mr Stark told him. "You don´t want your parents to die because of you, do you?" Tears were threatening to spill from Mike´s eyes, but he nevertheless nodded. He didn't want his parents to die.

"You´ll go back outside and have fun," Mr Stark commanded. "And you´ll never breathe a word of what happened here to anyone, because if you do…" He didn't finish his sentence, instead pointing towards the dead man lying on the ground. "They´ll come."

With a loud gasp Mike was torn out of his memory. His head felt like someone had held his head under water and now he was allowed to breathe again; there was a sluggishness to his mind, a disconnection to reality and for a short moment Mike wasn't sure what was real and what was just memory.

"I think we can safely say that your memory isn't faulty," Meyer commented. "It´s unfortunate that we can only extract sound and no visuals, because then we could plug the formula directly out of your mind, but it as it is, so we still have need for you."

"Sir, maybe we should allow the subject to recuperate," the other scientist from before threw in. "He won´t be of much use right now." Meyer looked like he had swallowed something sour, but with a short nod the guards picked Mike up from the Chair and dragged him back to his cell.

"You´re alright?" Harvey asked when the door had closed behind Mike. "You weren't gone for that long, but they sure as hell know how to use their time efficiently."

"I´m fine," Mike pressed out. Harvey didn't really look like he believed Mike, but thankfully he didn't press further. Mike couldn't just talk right now, he had too much to process.

The formula he had had in his mind since he had been a little child was in truth the Supersoldier Formula that had created Captain America. And no other than Howard Stark had put it there. Hysteric laughter made it past Mike´s lips when he thought about the fact that he was now working for the son of the very man that was the cause of the clusterfuck he was now in. He must have supressed the memory, Mike concluded. His nightmares made a lot more sense now. What child would have been able to deal with someone being killed in front of their eyes and then being told that their parents would be next if they didn't keep their mouth shut in a healthy way? Quite on the contrary, Mike considered himself well adjusted.

Did Tony know? Mike wondered. Had their first meeting been as random as Mike had always believed or did Tony have a hidden motive? Had he just wanted to get his fingers on the valuable secret hidden inside Mike´s mind? As fast as that thought had sprung to his mind it vanished again. After over half-a-year, Mike liked to think that he knew Tony well enough that he wasn't one to pull a long con to get something. If he had had any inkling of it, he would have just approached Mike and thrown money and other favours at him until he would have given him what he wanted (and Mike probably would have, he had needed the money). So, no, Tony hadn't known and everything up until now had been genuine.

"You´re alright now?" Harvey asked.

"Yeah," Mike replied. "Just had some life-changing revelations."

"Don´t we all?" Harvey chuckled. A comfortable silence settled over them.

"You said you work for Pearson Specter Litt," Mike picked up where Harvey left off before he had been dragged out of the room. "What´s it like?"

"Awesome," Harvey replied with a wide grin. "I´ve got a nice little corner office overlooking 5th Avenue and the best secretary there is."

"I doubt that," Mike disagreed. While Pepper may not have been a secretary for quite a while, he seriously doubted that anyone could be as efficient and awe-inducing as the CEO of Stark Industries.

"Well, it´s true," Harvey told him. "If she wanted she could take over the whole firm. She knows where every skeleton is buried and all of the partners are afraid of her."

"Does she have red hair?" Mike asked in some random bout of curiosity.

"She does," Harvey confirmed.

"So, why did you decide to go into law?" Mike wanted to know.

"Because of the thrill of it," Harvey answered. "I know that nothing men-made is perfect, but I think the law comes close. When I go up against another lawyer in court I know they´re there because of their abilities, not because of their status or money. Because your status doesn't matter if your opponent can out-argue you and neither does your money. I´ve seen man and women who came from nothing wiping the floor with men much more powerful than them, because that´s what the law allows them to do. And that´s why when I´m in front of the judge and jury, arguing and presenting my case, knowing that my opponent is as intelligent and ruthless as I am, I feel the most alive." As Harvey talked about it, Mike observed him and noticed how the man shed the stress, the pressure and grime that weighted down on him and seemed to glow from within with passion and desire. His eyes shone with something hungry, making a shudder run down Mike´s spine, his hands gestured animatedly, the lines around his eyes seemed to lessen. Seeing him like this, Mike could just imagine what a powerful force Harvey must be in a court room.

He fell asleep to Harvey talking about the law, his soothing voice rushing over him like a waterfall.

Mike woke abruptly when the door was blown open and two guards entered. Before he could even blink, they had already thrown him from the raft and were dragging him back to the laboratory.

"Welcome back, Mike," Meyer greeted him. "Ready to cooperate with us?"

"Go to hell!" Mike spit in his face.

"That´s unfortunate," Meyer sighed. "Maybe we´ll be able to persuade you?" Then they started with the electroshocks.

When the guards threw Mike back into his and Harvey´s cell he didn't even possess the strength to pick himself up from the ground. Every inch of him hurt like a herd of elephants had trampled over them and even the smallest of movements sent jolts of pain throughout his whole body, so he just laid there and prayed for the pain to go away.

"Mike!" Harvey exclaimed. He stood up from his raft he was laying on and kneeled next to Mike. There wasn't much he could do, as he neither possessed medical equipment nor the knowledge of how to use it, but Mike appreciated the gesture anyway. When Harvey touched his shoulder, he couldn't hold back the wince, making Harvey retreat his hand with a guilty expression on his face.

"What did they do to you?" he wanted to know, concern shimmering behind his hazel eyes.

"Electroshocks," Mike rasped.

"I´m sorry," Harvey whispered. "They never did that to me. The guards only ever roughed me up and I know how to withstand that. They must want your knowledge much more than mine."

"There´s nothing to apologise for," Mike assured Harvey.

"I need to pick you up and put you onto the bed," Harvey told him. "I don't think it´s healthy to lie on the hard and cold ground after being tortured."

"Are you my nurse now, Harvey?" Mike joked, but he was too exhausted to laugh. "You´re much more attractive than the nurses at the last hospital I´ve been in."

"Tell me all about it," Harvey replied drily.

"Well, one of Tony´s inventions kinda blew up and damaged the structural integrity of the ceiling. I fell right through it into Tony´s workshop. You should have seen his faaaaaa…" It was in that moment that Harvey picked him up and hoisted him upon the raft, making the pain flare up anew in his whole body.

"Sorry," Harvey apologised. "I figured if you were distracted the pain wouldn't be that bad." Mike snorted, but he had to admit that lying on the threadbare mattress was better than the cold ground.

"Tell me something," Mike asked of Harvey. "Something about your work at your firm."

"Well, it´s not really my firm," Harvey conceded. "You may have noticed that the 'Pearson' comes before my name. Jessica is the a scarily powerful and ruthless woman." From anyone else it would have sounded disparaging, but Harvey managed to make the words sound admiring. "She towers over everyone; and I don't mean just her physical height, there´s also her intellect and her cunning. I think in order to understand her, you must understand that she managed to push herself up the ranks as woman and as person of colour. I have no illusion that she must have had it thousand times worse than I did. But not only did she manage to become Managing Partner, no, she did all of that while also ousting all of the men that came before her. No one can even remember that the firm even existed before Jessica.

'Tear down the statue,' she called it. I learned everything I know from her. She was the one who picked me from the mailroom and sent me to Harvard. She made this whole life possible for me and for that I´m forever in her debt. And I know that´s exactly why she did it, but I can´t fault her for it. I know that she knows that I know and she still can count on me being in her corner all the time. That´s the woman Jessica Pearson is.

But she´s also the one who gave Rachel a chance and made her my associate. She´s also the one who fixes all of Louis' screw-ups and keeps Donna from going overboard. She´s the one to reel me back in when I go too far and she never expects gratefulness. Just loyalty."

"Sounds like a remarkable woman," Mike remarked, slowly feeling drowsiness overcoming him. "She sounds like someone who could stand up to Tony. I´ll always like people who can stand up to him…" He didn't hear Harvey´s reply because he was already drifting into sleep.

The next time Mike was thrown back into the cell after another electroshock session, Harvey wordlessly helped him onto his raft and started talking after Mike had laid down, the pain in his body ebbing back and forth.

"I have an associate," Harvey began, "Her name´s Rachel. Rachel Zane. She was a paralegal for years before she managed to make a deal with Jessica that allowed her to go to law school while she continued working for the firm. That takes guts and I can respect that. To be honest, I didn't really like her in the beginning. She was just so prim and proper and eager to please, but then she would talk back at the most inopportune moments. I loaded off as much work as I could on her, just so that she would be out of my way, but she always came back with the work perfectly done and not a single complaint. I wanted to wear her down and scare her off, but she didn't allow me. Every time she handed me back the papers I asked for I could see that determination in her eyes, this shimmer that just dared me to try and grind her down. So, I involved her more and she, in return, cut back on that 'holier than thou' attitude. Donna told me that she gives the clients the impression that we care – which I don't, by the way – but if Rachel manages to make the clients easier to work with, then she can care all over the place."

They turned to waterboarding after electroshocks didn't give them the desired results. If Mike thought the pain of hundreds of volts cursing through his body was bad than he couldn't even describe the terror that took hold of him every time his head was held under water. The desperate desire to breathe – to inhale – and then the water filling his lungs, never stopping, the struggle for air and the terrible burning in his lungs when he wasn't able to fill them with oxygen coalesced into an agony that kept him even awake when it was just him and Harvey.

The man was always there when Mike woke up from his nightmares – drowning, lungs filled with water, grasping for air while nothing but water would rush into his mouth – and held him down while he trashed around and screamed. When Mike didn't know where he was, gaze unseeing and mind still filled with the agony of being tortured, he would speak and his voice would chase the terrors away – at least until they opened the door again.

Harvey told him of his life at Pearson Specter Litt: About Louis Litt, who always invested himself 100% even if it was too much, who was creepily obsessed with his cats and who took every associate under his wing, even though he was only able to show his caring through shouting and cutting comments. A man who above all just wanted to be liked by others but didn't know how to make them and who just for once wanted to be someone´s first choice. About Donna Paulsen, the woman who had had Harvey´s back ever since he stepped into the world of law and who put her own ambition behind Harvey´s and never demanded anything in return but for Harvey to listen to her. Who had no family but him, but wouldn't have him in her private life anyway. A woman who without whom Harvey wouldn't be the man he was today and for that he would always love her.

"It sounds like family," Mike commented.

"It is," Harvey replied after thinking about it for a while.

"So, we both found family somewhere else," Mike smiled, but then it vanished as fast as it had come.

"Harvey, if…if I don't make it out…"

"Don´t," Harvey interrupted him. "You will. You aren't allowed to die here."

"I don't think you can make the rules up like that," Mike said.

"I´m the best closer Manhattan has ever seen," Harvey replied with defiance. "And if I say you aren't allowed to die because I want to take you out on a date after we survived this, then you aren't allowed to."

Mike smiled at Harvey. "Alright."

The next time the water started to surge into Mike´s lungs, he thought about Harvey´s rule, about the date he, too, wanted to be taken on and maybe it was cowardly and unpatriotic, but Mike didn't want to die in some godforsaken bunker, his sacrifice forgotten by the rest of the world, his fate forever unknown to his family. Maybe a hero would have hold out until the end, but Mike was no hero: just an ex-drug dealer/personal assistant who was in way over his head.

Mike wanted to live. And wasn't that the most human thing in the world?

"Alright, alright," Mike rasped out the next time his head was above the water. "You win. I´ll create you the serum. Just…just stop."

Mike looked at the small vial, the lucent liquid within looking nothing like he had imagined a supersoldier serum would look like. It looked harmless, innocuous, and yet people had died and he had been tortured for it.

"I´m finished," he told Meyer, who grabbed the vial from his hand and look at it with unadulterated greed shining in his eyes.

"Finally," he crooned. "After all those years, Hydra will finally be in possession of the Supersoldier Serum. Our greatest ignominy finally erased."

"Should I alert the Director?" one of the armed guards asked.

"No!" Meyer shouted. "They´ll just claim it for themselves, leaving us in this hellhole of a base. No." He looked at the vial and back at Mike, a sick sort of glee forming on the doctor´s face. "We won´t deliver the Serum to the Director." One of the guards stepped forward, ready to object, but Meyers just continued speaking. "We deliver them a Supersoldier, perfectly trained and programmed. Imagine the praise and fame we´ll receive. Hydra will remember our names until the end of times."

"You´re insane," Mike blurted out. "Absolutely, fucking, insane."

"They say the same about Tony Stark, yet they´re also heralding him as the greatest genius of our time," Meyers shot back. Mike wanted to snap back that Tony was nothing like the doctors, that the latter was just a cheap imitate of the former, a burnt-out husk caught in his own delusions of grandeur, but he kept his mouth shut. It burned on his tongue, though, those words that he knew would sent Meyers into frothing rage.

"Take him," Meyers ordered. Suddenly there were two guards at his side, taking his arms and forcing him to the ground.

"Congratulations, Mike," Meyers told him as he filled a syringe with the serum Mike had just produced. "You´re going to be my crowning achievement. The perfect soldier."

"You´re delusional," Mike wheezed, trying to wrestle out of the guards' grip, but they wouldn't give in, not even an inch. Mike increased his effort a thousand-fold when Meyers stalked towards him, syringe held high and a maniac glint in his eyes, but then one of the guard hit the back of Mike´s head with the butt of his gun. Stunned, Mike could offer no resistance when Meyer rammed the syringe in the back of his neck and emptied its content in his bloodstream.

Considering that the stuff was called Supersoldier Serum for a reason, Mike would have thought that there would be some kind of reaction. Some kind of fire that would burn itself through his body, unimaginable pain maybe, but when Meyers took a few steps back, Mike could feel absolutely no chance at all.

Maybe, he hoped, the serum was defective. That hope was lost, though, when Meyers began to smile.

"You´re still alive," he remarked in wonder. "All of our other subjects were writhing on the ground in unimaginable pain by now. Seems your formula actually works." He threw the empty syringe on one of the tables and turned back to Mike. "Now, to the last step: The gamma rays. If you survive them, you´ll be a real Supersoldier."

Still dazed by the hit on his head, Mike could do nothing as the guards dragged him towards a contraption that bore an uncanny resemblance to a coffin, only that it wasn't made of wood but of steel and all kind of tubes and pipes were protruding from it. Another guard opened the lid of the machine and then Mike was already forced into it.

"Let me out!" he screamed, hammering his hands against the cold metal surface but it just wouldn't budge. There was only a small opening through which he could see into the laboratory, but that didn't lessen the claustrophobia he was experiencing. He couldn't move, couldn't turn around, the confines of the coffin preventing him from even turning his head. His breathing was short and shallow, his pupils blown wide and panic was the only emotion he was able to feel.

"Rejoice, Mike," Meyers preached. "You´re the future of mankind." Then he moved the lever.

For a split-second nothing happened. Then the pain came. Mike had thought that the torture had been bad – the water-boarding and the electroshocks – but it was nothing to the sheer agony that was cursing through his veins at this moment. It felt like his whole body had been set on fire, lava cursing through his blood stream and burning him from within. Every nerve of his was on fire, tearing and sundering, and his brain felt like it was boiled in his skull. Mike wanted to scream, but he couldn't, because he couldn't control his muscles anymore, couldn't force his mouth to open and his vocal chords to vocalize the unimaginable agony he was forced through.

He just wanted to die. At least then the pain would stop and he would see his parents again. As wave after wave of agony shot through him, Mike prayed that his heart would give out, that his lungs would combust or that his brain would just give up and release him into sweet oblivion.

The last thing Mike saw before the pain overtook him and everything went black was the walls of the laboratory suddenly exploding and a red shape bursting through the rubble.

Then nothing.

Mike was floating.

There was whiteness all around him. No matter where he looked, the vast stretches of nothingness didn't end, reached until the horizon and beyond. He had no sense of direction, no orientation; there was just this sweet numbness spread throughout his whole body. It was serene, peaceful (painless) and Mike just allowed himself to swim through the whiteness.

"Mike."

Someone was calling him. The sound tore through the whiteness like a gun shot, disturbing the peace and quiet.

"Mike."

Mike didn't want to follow the voice. He didn't want to go back where he would be hurt and tortured, didn't want to wake up to the world where the pain was.

"Mike."

The voice grew louder and more insistent. At its edges, the whiteness suddenly turned black, the darkness coming nearer and nearer.

"Mike."

The blackness reached him.

"Mike."

With a loud gasp Mike sat up and opened his eyes. He was assaulted by the lights and sound around him, bombarding him with so many sensations that he couldn't escape. He tried to close his eyes again, tried to shield his ears from the sounds, but they wormed their way into his brain and wouldn't leave, burying themselves into his mind. There was a voice, but Mike couldn't hear it over the ringing in his mind.

He buried his head between his knees and just tried to get his breathing back under control. Slowly but surely the sounds receded and his eyes got accustomed to the brightness around him. Everything around him was blurry, as if he was underwater, so the only thing he could cling to was the voice that never stopped speaking.

"Easy there."

"Tony?" Mike croaked. The blurry shapes in front of his eyes took form again and now he could recognise his boss hovering over him. Compared to the last time, he looked worse for wear: His skin was pale, hair dishevelled, bags under his eyes and barely healed cuts all over him.

"Yeah, it´s me," Tony replied.

"I thought it was a dream," Mike mumbled. "You coming and saving me." Mike didn't notice it, but the expression on Tony´s face looked like he had been shot straight in the heart.

"Of course I came!" he insisted. "Nobody kidnaps my employees and gets away with it! Besides, Pepper was out of her mind with worry for you." There was a shaky smile on the billionaire´s face that told Mike that Pepper hadn't been the only one who had been worried.

"You did miss a lot, though," Tony continued. "There was some evil Russian genius who had it out for me and tried to kill me several times…and I also nearly died of Palladium poisoning…

…which has been totally taken care of by some shady government agency," Tony added when he noticed Mike´s eyes widen in panic. "I´m fine now." There was a short pause then: "Not as fine as you´re gonna be, though. How does it feel to be a supersoldier now?"

Dread washed over Mike as memories of all the things he had been gone through were suddenly pushed at the front of his mind: the torture, the pain, the all-consuming fear, the agony. His hands began to shake and there was this urge to scream but no sound would come out of his throat. He tried to get out of the bed, tried to run, but suddenly there was Tony holding him back. If Mike hadn't just woken up, he probably would have been able to overpower the man, but as he was now he couldn't put up much of a fight.

"Harvey," Mike managed to get out. "The formula…needs to be destroyed. Where´s Harvey? Promised we´d get out together…"

"Mike, listen to me." Tony´s voice barely registered in his panic-ridden state. "The guy who´s been with you is right in the room next to you. He´s fine. And I destroyed and wiped everything in the base. I made sure that no one can get his hands on the formula ever again. You´re safe. Harvey´s safe. And you´re both gonna be fine." It was difficult, but somehow Mike managed to subdue the panic that had taken a hold of him and forced it into the back of his mind where it now lingered, ready to take over again the moment he showed a sign of weakness.

"You´re with me again?" Tony asked. Mike nodded.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don´t apologise," Tony told him. "You should have seen me after Afghanistan. I was a total wreck, couldn't sleep, couldn't go for a whole hour without having flashbacks and panic attacks. You´re allowed not to be fine. You´re allowed to break apart."

"Did you?" Mike wanted to know. "Break apart? Did you allow yourself not to be fine?"

"No," Tony admitted bluntly. "I bottled everything up and insisted I was fine, only for all of it to blow up in my face when I least needed it. Don't make my mistakes, Mike." Mike couldn't bring himself to say something, so Tony continued.

"I destroyed all of the evidence. All the authorities involved think you´ve been kidnapped because of me." Guilt flashed over Tony´s face before it settled on his serious expression again. "I paid off the staff here so that they wouldn't keep a record of you. You don't have to wait for the other shoe to drop. It´s over now."

"So, I can go back to work like nothing has changed?" Mike asked, barely able to believe that it really was over now. Surprise flashed over Tony´s face.

"What?" Mike inquired. "Did you think I wouldn't want to come back?"

"You were kidnapped because of me," Tony mumbled.

"I was kidnapped because of something our fathers did," Mike corrected him. "And I don't hold you responsible for it. Besides, I couldn't leave Pepper just like that. She´d kill me." They both knew that there were things that neither of them dared to say – it was probably toxic masculinity or emotional stunting or just both of the men who weren't used to talk to others about their emotions – but when Tony looked up again, his gaze didn't seem so heavy and there was a straightness to his posture that hadn't been there before.

Mike was sure that they would be okay.

Tony continued talking for a while, recounting all the events Mike had missed during his captivity, including a disastrous birthday party and Mike was so glad that he hadn't been the one forced to clean up that particular mess (reminder: buy Pepper some chocolate, she definitely deserved it), but sadly the duties Tony had to Stark Industries and the public never really went away, so after an hour or so he had to leave to take care of something, promising to return as soon as possible.

"Mike," he said, already on the threshold of the room. "They had notes about your friend on file. I had JARVIS search for him: He´s been killed a few days ago. Probably them trying to tie up loose ends."

Mike called Grammy and for the first five minutes of their call, his grandmother did nothing but cry and thank God for his save return. Mike felt bad for putting Grammy through all of this, but being the fierce woman she was, Grammy would have none of it and made him promise to visit her as soon as possible; a promise Mike gladly gave.

He didn't dwell much on Trevor. In all this chaos, the thought of what his best friend had done had gone completely under, but after Tony had told him of Trevor´s fate, Mike had time to reflect on it and it hurt like a bitch. He never believed that Trevor had wanted him to suffer through what he did, but that didn't negate the fact that he had betrayed Mike. There were all those conflicting emotions in his mind and he couldn't sort through them: anger, hurt, betrayal, but also grief, loss and love – because Mike had loved Trevor who had been to him like a brother. Yet, the worst thing was that he would have never a chance to talk to Trevor again, to hear him defend himself, maybe apologise. They had killed him and whatever Trevor´s thoughts and motivations had been, Mike would never know.

So, he allowed himself to grieve for the friend that had been and not the man he had become.

Pepper and Happy were the next visitors he received. Both were overjoyed to see Mike again, the latter receiving a manly fist bump from Tony´s driver and an invitation to the nearest bar the moment he could leave the room (Pepper just rolled her eyes) while Pepper herself was all misty-eyed and threw herself at Mike and hugged the living daylight out of him. Tony himself stood back and enjoyed the show.

"I´m so glad that you´re back," she told him, "mostly because it´s been hell to juggle both Stark Industries and Tony himself." Tony yelled something in protest.

"You wound me," Mike replied in mock-hurt, clutching his chest as if he had been shot. "And here I thought we had some real soul mate connection going on." Pepper smiled while Tony continued to complain and Happy just shook his head fondly at his boss.

And while Mike watched them all, he realised something: Whoever had said 'home is where your heart is' had been right. Those people – Tony, who cared so much that it hurt sometimes watching him taking all the blame, shouldering all the responsibility; Pepper, who was as fierce and intelligent as she was beautiful; Happy, who, no matter the situation, was the calm in the storm, steadfast loyal all the way through – were his home, his family, now. They had come through for him, they took care of each other and for a lonely orphan boy who only ever had his grandmother and a best friend he couldn't rely on, this was an earth-shattering revelation.

"Why are you smiling?" Tony suddenly asked. "No one´s allowed to smile about something I don't know anything about."

"It´s nothing," Mike replied. "I just realised something."

He could leave his bed – and therefore his room – a day after he had woken up already (Mike tried not to think about what that meant) and the first thing he did was visiting Harvey. The lawyer was still bed-bound, every inch of exposed skin covered in bruises.

Guilt gnawed at Mike. He was responsible for this.

"You look like you´re thinking too much," Harvey commented.

"Something you´re definitely not all too familiar with," Mike shot back. Harvey just smiled at him.

"See? I told you we´d make it out of there alive," Harvey told him.

"You did," Mike replied, reciprocating Harvey´s smile. "You did." They fell into a comfortable silence, both basking in the presence of the other and enjoying the knowledge that they were safe now.

"What are you going to do now?" Mike asked.

"I´ll be going back to New York," Harvey replied. "I miss my condo and I´m sure Donna and Jessica miss me as well. Louis is gonna be so disappointed that I survived."

"Don´t be so mean to the man," Mike chided Harvey, but he couldn't help the small smile that creeped on his face. "He´s probably going to hug you." Harvey looked like he was going to be physically ill just at the thought of Louis Litt hugging him.

"You still remember what you promised me?" Harvey asked. "If we got out of there alive you´d go on a date with me."

"I definitely won´t break that promise," Mike confirmed. Harvey smiled and right in this moment – just both of them in nothing but hospital gowns, the faint beeping of the machines that surrounded Harvey´s bed, the sunlight streaming through the window and both of them still looking like shit – Mike felt like everything was as it was supposed to be.

"What did you find out, Agent Romanov?" the one-eyed man sitting behind the desk asked of the red-haired woman in front of him.

"Stark destroyed all of the physical evidence," the woman reported. "There was nothing we could salvage but molten scraps of metal."

"So, you´re saying we´ve got nothing?" the man asked surly. A faint smile crept on Agent Romanov´s face, the only outward sign of emotion.

"One of the scientists working at the base wasn't there when Stark attacked," she spoke. "He was buying supplies in the nearby town. We picked him up and he was more than eager to tell us all he knew."

"Which was?"

"They were after the Supersoldier Serum," Romanov replied.

"It´s been lost with Captain America," the man scoffed.

"Apparently it wasn't," Romanov corrected him. "The scientist told us that Stark´s personal assistant knows the whole formula. That´s why they kidnapped him in the first place; not because they wanted to threaten Stark himself."

There was silence.

"What shall we do now, Director Fury?" Romanov asked.

"Nothing," Fury replied. "We´ll wait and observe. And when the opportunity presents itself, we´ll snatch Stark´s PA up for ourselves. Dismissed."

AN: In true Marvel fashion there are a lot of loose threads, but I figured that ending the story here would give the reader enough closure. When I started this I´d have never thought that I´d write nearly 30k words. I figured it´d be around 10k lol I hope you all liked reading it as much as I loved writing it ^^