Tony's second day in the hospital was even more dull than the first, and this time Tony was awake for more of it. Rhodey considered confiscating the phone again at several points throughout the day-Tony was supposed to be resting, after all-but he didn't want to deal with a sulking Tony so he let him be.

Natasha returned to the compound for a while in the early afternoon to shower, change, and fetch something for Tony to wear that evening. While she was gone, Rhodey suggested that Tony try standing on his own two feet for a bit. It went reasonably well, once Tony listened to Rhodey's advice to take it slow.

Afterward, Tony showed Rhodey what he'd figured out so far for enabling the suit to detect if he was messing up his heart again, but Rhodey could tell something was bothering him. He wasn't sure what it might be-there were too many options-until Natasha returned with Tony's clothes and tossed them on Tony's lap. "Everyone is looking forward to seeing you," she told him.

"I really doubt that," Tony replied immediately, checking over the outfit: trousers, a collared v-neck shirt, and a suit coat, very much like what he'd worn when visiting Peter that first time. Shit, he needed to text the kid so he wouldn't freak out about what had been on the news. "I think they would all get along just fine without me."

"Maybe, but they're still glad you're coming home," Natasha said.

"Home," Tony scoffed. "I'm not sure I know what that is anymore, but I'm fairly certain it's not where half the residents hate you."

Before either of them could respond, Tony said, "Okay, wow, let's pretend I didn't say that. That was not what I meant to say."

Rhodey exchanged a glance with Natasha. "What did you mean to say?" Rhodey asked.

Tony shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure anymore. Just . . . never mind."

"You're an important member of the team, Tony," Natasha tried to reassure him.

"Am I?" he asked bitterly. "Which team? The outlaws or the teacher's pets? No, don't answer that. I'm done talking about this." He proceeded to ignore both of them and returned to doing something on his phone.

"What are you working on?" Rhodey asked cautiously, hoping that was a safe topic for conversation.

Tony flicked the display up into the air. "Suit redesign with more protection for the arc reactor, since apparently we need that."

Discussion continued in that direction until it was time for dinner. Tony only picked at his food but Rhodey decided not to fuss at him about it.

Dr. Mann and a nurse they hadn't seen before paid them a visit shortly after dinner and told Tony to go ahead and get dressed while she finished signing the paperwork. "I've put all of your data and a list of my expectations for your activities for the next two weeks in the usual place. You have an appointment at this hospital for follow-up tests in one week; if you miss it, I will prolong your restrictions. Any questions?"

Tony didn't have any, nor did Rhodey or Natasha. Natasha excused herself as soon as Dr. Mann left so Tony could change in more privacy. The nurse handed Tony his shoes and a white paper pharmacy bag, then unhooked him from his machines and removed the electrodes and IV line. After that Rhodey helped him change, which is to say he helped Tony stay upright once when he nearly lost his balance, but otherwise Tony managed just fine.

Then they waited, Tony fussing with his clothes and scratching uneasily at his stubble. Natasha provided a comb for his unkempt hair, then helped him fix his hair when it wasn't to her approval. "Pepper suggested taking a few pictures to release to the media," she explained when she'd finished. "Where and when would you prefer?"

"Pepper is a wise woman," Tony said. "We'll do it indoors so there's no indication of time of day. If I sit on the edge of the bed, is there anything specific to this hospital in the background?"

Natasha took a photo with her phone and showed it to him. "No, I don't think so."

Tony took out his phone. "Friday, suppress GPS tagging and timestamp on these photos." He held out the phone to Natasha. "Do your worst."

Natasha had him smile, then not smile, hold his fingers in a peace sign, and pretend to wave, and even took a couple with Rhodey in them. Tony looked them over with some discontent. "Sunglasses would really help," he said. "But I suppose if we're trying to make me look pitiful, we're succeeding."

The nurse returned to the room pushing a wheelchair. "You're all set, Mr. Stark."

"Speaking of pitiful," he said, eyeing the wheelchair like it would bite him. "I'm not using that."

"I'm sorry, but it's hospital regulations. We can allow one of your friends to push it, but you need to be in it to leave."

"It's all right, we can take a few more photos," Natasha said.

Tony heaved a put-upon sigh. "Fine."

Another round of pictures later, Natasha was pushing him out of the ICU with Rhodey trailing just behind. Rather than risk being seen using the main doors, Natasha had secured permission to use a back door intended for hospital staff that led to a side parking lot where a discreet black car was parked. The windows were tinted, so once Tony was in the back seat, only those who thought to look through the windshield might see him. Rhodey sat in back with him while Natasha drove.

Tony fidgeted restlessly with his phone while Natasha took a circuitous route to throw off any potential pursuers. He reviewed the new set of photos, then had Friday send them all to Pepper with a note that waiting until sometime tomorrow to release them wouldn't upset him. He sent a brief message to Peter, then busied himself looking at what Dr. Mann had left him in her folder on the server. The list of her expectations he displayed for Rhodey to see, too. "This is ridiculous," Tony grumbled.

Rhodey skimmed the Restricted and Allowed categories and chuckled. "I'd say she knows you better than you'd like." The Restricted section included entries like "Alcohol: none" and "Coffee: maximum 2 cups per day" while the Allowed section provided insight like "Workshop time: within reason, so long as sleep and meal schedules do not suffer."

Tony continued to complain about various items on the list until the brilliantly lit compound came into view. He fell completely silent and put away his phone as the car drew up to the building, then eased into the private garage. "If you ever decide to give up the spy business, you could do well as a chauffeur," Tony told Natasha.

She smirked as she killed the engine. "I'll keep that in mind."

Rhodey could tell Tony was relieved that no one was waiting for them in the garage. He took his time getting out of the car, gripping the door more tightly than usual; probably a bit of dizziness, he'd had that issue earlier in the afternoon when he'd been out of bed for the first time. It passed, and they got into the elevator to go up to the common areas. Tony visibly steeled himself as the elevator slowed, then stopped.

Even though the short hallway to the main room was empty, Tony hesitated briefly before stepping out. That moment of anxiety didn't show when he went down the hall and pulled open one of the doors. "There'd better not be coffee grounds in the disposal again," he teased.

Steve stepped forward first and shook his hand. "Tony. It's good to see you."

Sam was next. "Glad you're back on your feet. But you should know, I have a complaint about the equipment here that we'll have to discuss."

Tony seemed a little taken aback. "Sure thing. Whatever you need."

Hank Pym was even there, with Scott on his heels. "Thanks for this, Stark," he said, gesturing toward Scott. "If there's anything you need me to bother people about, just say the word."

"I will definitely do that." Tony nodded toward Scott. "You both are welcome here anytime."

Laura Barton hugged him. "You're going to have to give the kids some Uncle Tony time soon," she said. "They've been worried."

"That can definitely be arranged," he said. "How's tomorrow look?"

Clint shook his hand. "Hey man, you look like shit."

Tony responded in kind. "I'm still prettier than you."

T'Challa laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to speak to him. "They are worried and will do whatever is necessary to help. You must allow them this."

Wanda hung back and just gave him a little wave while Vision came up and seemed uncertain whether to sh ake his hand or embrace him. Tony shook his hand firmly. "I am relieved to see you back on your feet," Vision said solemnly.

"Me too, buddy."

Rhodey gently directed Tony toward a chair and the others followed suit after saying goodbye to Scott. "So, Tony," Steve began awkwardly as he sat next to Rhodey on the couch. "What happened? What do we need to know for your recovery?"

"Well," Tony said slowly, very aware of all the eyes upon him and how what he was about to say would make him sound weak, or at least too old. "I'm not sure how to say it, so I'll let Dr. Mann do the talking. Friday, bring up the transcript." He selected the portion where she explained what happened, then the bit about his involuntary month off, and had Friday play it back.

Afterward, Tony hastened to add, "I have a list, of what's allowed and what isn't for the next couple of weeks, it's ridiculous, really, but-"

"We should see it, so we know what we shouldn't let you do," Steve said.

Tony hesitated but Rhodey nodded encouragingly. "I'll make it available," Tony says. "Later. We don't need to worry about that now."

"It sounds like we should've been worried about you for a while," Laura said softly. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I never do. I don't have time to deal with doctors."

"He doesn't like to admit having a weakness," Natasha added from behind him. "It's a common failing in egotistical men."

"You can stop helping," he shot back, giving her a peeved look over his shoulder.

"So instead you work yourself nearly to death. Yes, that makes sense," Wanda said sarcastically.

"There were things that needed to be done and I was the only one in the position to do them," Tony said defensively.

"Maybe it doesn't have to rest on you anymore," Sam suggested. "You being benched is a good way for us to find out where can step up."

"Yes," Vision agreed. "There must be things that can be handled by other members of the team."

"I guess we'll find out," Tony said reluctantly.

"But not right now," Rhodey interjected. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd like to sleep sometime tonight."

"Nathaniel is stirring and will wake within two minutes," Friday announced.

"That's our cue," Clint said as he and Laura stood. "Good night, everyone. Good to have you back, Tony."

The gathering dispersed quickly after that. Rhodey walked with Tony to his suite. "Will you be all right?"

"You worrywart. I'll be fine. How about you? You went from wearing those for a few hours to several days. Any complaints?"

"Not really, but we can talk about that later, too. Sleep well, Tony."

"You too."

Now that he was in the same room as his bed, Tony felt overwhelmingly exhausted. He decided to defer his long-awaited shower, preferring to fall into the welcoming bed. He was asleep within minutes.

He woke suddenly a few hours later, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding and his stomach roiling. Whatever the nightmare had been, it vanished much more quickly than the nausea it evoked.

When he could move without throwing up, he stumbled from his bed and into the bathroom. He wasn't going to sleep again anytime soon so he might as well shower.

He emerged feeling a little more human, though his hands were unsteady enough that trying to shave wasn't wise. He threw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved tee, typical workshop garb, and headed down to the sub-basement where his work area was hidden away.

Both of his bots crowded around him when he arrived. "I have kept them apprised of your whereabouts," Friday informed him.

"Sorry guys, I've been away too long. Let's go build something, yeah?" The bots trilled their approval.

His first priority was developing the monitoring system so his heart didn't go wonky again without notice. Second was integrating the system into his suit. Since he didn't currently have a working suit, he'd have to spend some development time on that as well as on the monitoring system. Both of his previous suits had been trashed to the point it was easier to recycle the materials and start fresh than to repair them, so he was starting from scratch.

But that was all right, he had at least a month before Dr. Mann would let him back in the armor and even then he would still refuse to fly on Ross' behalf. He'd deferred producing a new suit because nonfunctional equipment was a convenient excuse to use on Ross, but he missed it dearly. That, more than anything else, was why he and Pepper couldn't make it work. He just couldn't quit.

Perhaps he should, with this heart thing on top of everything else. He wasn't getting any younger, and it's not like there weren't younger, less morally ambiguous heroes to take over. But he still felt useful in the armor in a way he rarely did outside of it, regardless of his money and fame. So he was going to make a suit with a heart monitor. God, how pathetic was he?

Out of habit, Tony found himself at the small kitchenette where he kept his coffee supplies. He thought about "Coffee: maximum 2 cups per day" and considered whether it would be better to put the coffee in extra large cups or brew regular-sized cups extra strong.

He was still debating this when Friday announced a visitor. "King T'Challa seeks permission to enter."

He didn't have any extra large cups at hand, so he put double the usual amount of coffee grounds into the french press and plugged in the electric kettle. "He can come in."

Footsteps announced T'Challa's presence; he was intentionally doing that, as Tony knew full well that he could move as quietly as a cat if he so desired. Tony didn't turn around until he'd poured hot water into the press. "Hello," he said casually, leaning back against the counter.

"You are awake quite early."

Tony shrugged. "Nightmare. You're up rather early, yourself."

"It is much later in the morning in Wakanda."

"Would you like coffee? I can make more."

"No, thank you." T'Challa perched on a stool by the workbench, near enough to converse comfortably but far enough to give Tony plenty of space.

"Did you come down here for any particular reason? I mean, you're welcome to watch me work, I just don't think it would be a good use of your time."

T'Challa said slowly, "I wear the mantle of warrior and also of king. These do not always rest easily, for the duties required of one sometimes conflict with the other. You suffer under a similar weight, I think, though your mantles are different enough I do not know what to call them."

Tony turned and finished preparing his coffee, relishing the smell of the nearly black brew as he poured it into a chipped mug. He held the mug in both hands as he returned to facing T'Challa, who continued, "I do not wish to give up being warrior or king, but I find the navigation between them to be . . . challenging. When you first became Iron Man, it appeared that you were able to find balance. How?"

Tony ventured a sip of his coffee and shuddered; it was wonderfully terrible. "A really good assistant," he said, remembering the days when Pepper ran Stark Industries in all but name. "And a friend who would call me on my shit."

"You retain both of them, I think, yet now you struggle beneath the load. What has changed?"

"I keep trying to make things better and end up making them worse," Tony said bitterly. "So I try to do more and more and . . . well, you know what happened."

"Do you have to be the one doing the 'more and more'?"

"When it's my fault, I should be the one to clean up."

"Do you consider the fracture between you and Steve Rogers to be your fault? That appears to be the largest thing you are attempting to 'clean up' at present."

"He thinks it's my fault. I disagree. But assigning fault doesn't change the fact that I have the position and power to do something to fix the Accords mess. If I can do something and don't, then whatever bad happens is my fault."

"I do not know that anyone can prevent the Accords from bringing unintended consequences. It is certainly not upon you to change the mind of everyone on that committee. No one holds that power."

"I don't need to change all of the minds, just enough to have the majority on my side."

"Perhaps." T'Challa fell silent for a while, though his dark eyes were still fixed on Tony. "Is there anything that you have been doing that could be done equally well by someone else?"

"If I thought so, I wouldn't still be doing those things," he said. "Pepper already runs my company and all of the philanthropic foundations I fund."

"Why did the reports about your health have to go out through your Pepper? Should not the Avengers have a person to handle such things?"

"It would make sense," Tony admitted after a moment and another sip of coffee. "I'll look into hiring one."

"I have people who do the hiring for such positions on my behalf. Don't you?"

". . . yes, I suppose I do."

T'Challa nodded in satisfaction. "I suspect you will find more assistance for your burdens if you think about things in this manner. I must return to my home today, but I offer my assistance in this way: As warrior, I can provide a perspective on proposed changes to the Accords. As king, I consider your alterations to the provisions to be just and necessary, and I believe my father would have agreed."

Tony left the refuge of his corner to go and shake T'Challa's hand. "Thank you," he said earnestly, then changed the subject. "How is our mutual acquaintance?"

"Sleeping soundly."

"Have your people been able to study the damage to the device?"

"Yes." T'Challa pulled a thumbdrive from his pocket.

Tony plugged it into his computer, then examined the schematics that popped up. "So it would be best to interface with what's left of the electronics, then," he said absently.

"That is the recommended course," T'Challa agreed. "There is no guarantee a second attempt at attaching metal to flesh would heal as well as the first one did."

"Do they have any ideas about replacing what was . . . lost?"

"One or two, but the engineers would consider it an honor to consult your work alongside their own."

"Challenge accepted," Tony said immediately, taking another swig of his coffee.

"I do not wish to add to your duties," T'Challa said uncertainly.

"I've been given a month off, remember? Inventing is more like breathing than it is like work." Usually. Tony flipped through the various angles and views provided on the drive. "When will we cross paths next? I'd prefer not to have this pass through too many hands."

"I do not know. Next month, perhaps."

"See you when I see you, then," Tony said absently, his mind already busy at work on this new project.

T'Challa laid a hand on Tony's arm. "Be mindful of your limits. We are only human."

Tony considered this a moment, then waved him away and turned back to his screens. T'Challa left him to it.

Friday's announcement of his next visitor about an hour later startled him into nearly dropping his coffee cup (it was, sadly, almost empty). He shuffled some of his displays around, then told her to let him in. Steve looked like he had just come in from a run, and Tony felt a stab of guilt for neglecting his own workout routine. He would have to check The List for what he was allowed to do.

"Tony," Steve said in greeting. "You still look tired. Did you sleep all right?"

"Would I be down here already if I did?"

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"About the nightmares?" Tony chuckled darkly. "You could have not become one of them, but you can't take that back now."

Steve shifted uncomfortably. "I am sorry. I didn't realize how much damage I caused."

"You were a supersoldier wielding the strongest metal on earth. You should have realized the possible consequences." And not all of the damage was physical, but he certainly wasn't going to admit that aloud.

Steve didn't answer for a while; Tony turned back to his work and tried to ignore the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

"How did-" Steve started.

"Boss-" Friday interjected.

"Leave. Please. You can ask me later," Tony said tightly, breathing carefully against a rising wave of anxiety. Talking about what happened had not been wise. He could hear Steve hesitate-he couldn't look at him, not right now-then retreat when one of the bots rolled toward him.

Tony rested his head on the work table, clutching his aching chest and trying desperately to breathe normally. He thought he nearly had a handle on it when the door banged open. "Tony!" Rhodey's voice called. "What's going on, man? Friday said you were having 'difficulty'."

He raised his head and peered at the door through his transparent screens. Rhodey was rolling toward him in the wheelchair. "Just a little anxiety from an ill-advised trip down memory lane with Rogers," he said dryly.

"Jesus, Tony, get on the floor right now and put your feet up. You look like you're going to pass out and I can't help without my legs on."

Now that he'd suggested it, the floor did sound appealing. His journey from chair to floor was less than graceful if Rhodey's reaction was anything to go by, but he felt a little better once he'd made it there.

"Give me your feet."

Rhodey maneuvered close enough that he could hold Tony's feet up in his lap, the wheelchair footrests nudging Tony's thighs. It was slightly easier to breathe in this position, and Tony could feel his heart rate ease a tiny bit.

As the adrenaline rush subsided, he broke into a cold sweat and nausea churned his stomach. He swallowed repeatedly, but the nausea only worsened. He yanked his feet away from Rhodey and rolled, intending to reach the garbage can or even just the sink, but he didn't make it farther than rising to his hands and knees.

Well, at least all he'd had in his stomach was coffee; liquid was easier to clean off the floor than solids.

While he was retching, Rhodey fetched the sawdust Tony kept on hand for workshop spills. When Tony sat up on his knees, Rhodey matter-of-factly covered the puddle in sawdust.

"If I throw up a cup of coffee, does that mean I still get to drink two more after that?"

Rhodey snorted as he filled Tony's coffee cup with water from the sink. "If you throw up a cup of coffee, isn't that a sign that maybe you shouldn't be drinking coffee?"

"I'm allowed two cups," Tony pointed out. "Since I don't think they're allowed to roll over from one day to the next, I will make sure I consume my full allotment." He accepted the cup from Rhodey and emptied it before trying to stand.

"Seriously, are you all right? That looked almost as bad as when you went down a couple of days ago."

"I'm fine."

"Have you had your meds this morning?"

"No. What time is it?"

"After seven. Do you even know where your pills are?"

Tony mentally retraced his steps the previous night. "Yes," he said confidently, then corrected, "Maybe. I think they're still in my suitcoat pocket."

"Let's go find them, and then it will be time for breakfast."

"Coffee will be sufficient," Tony said, taking the broom and dustpan from Dummy and cleaning up the mess.

"Oh, no you don't. You will be eating something at every meal. All of us will be making sure of it."

Tony grumbled something about mother hens that Rhodey pretended he didn't hear. Tony saved his work and shut off the system, then trailed Rhodey out of the room.

The pill bottle was exactly where Tony thought it was, still rolled up in its white paper pharmacy bag. He took a single pill under Rhodey's watchful eye, then they went down to the common area.

Tony was greeted with cries of joy from the elder Barton children, especially Lila, who ran to him and threw her arms around his legs. He knelt down and hugged her properly. "Are you better now?" she asked solemnly.

"I will be," he said with equal gravity.

"Your face is scratchier than usual."

Tony ruefully rubbed his cheek. "Yes, I'm afraid it is. Have you had your breakfast?"

"Yes, Daddy made us smiley face pancakes," she said excitedly. "And we had bacon, too."

"Do you think your Daddy will make me a pancake?"

"I think so. Daddy, will you make Uncle Tony a pancake?"

"A smiley face pancake would be just right for your maturity level," Clint said from his post at the griddle.

Tony gave him a one-fingered response. "Since you've had breakfast already, what are you doing now?" he asked Lila.

"We're playing doctor."

"Oh, really? Who's the doctor?"

"I am!" she said proudly, holding up a plastic stethoscope. "Cooper is being you, and I'm your doctor at the hospital."

"Is that right?" Tony had to look around a bit before he saw Cooper sprawled on a pile of pillows near a couch.

"He just fell down. I should go help him."

"Yes, I think you should," he agreed, and she ran off. Instead of helping Cooper, however, she climbed on him and started tickling him.

Tony shook his head as he stood back up, still watching them. Clint slid a plate along the counter toward him. "Your breakfast."

It was a stack of two large pancakes, the top one adorned with two strawberry halves for eyes and a curved line of sliced bananas for a mouth, with a few strips of bacon at the top like hair. Tony might have made a snide comment about it, but Rhodey received an identical plate. "I'm not sure what it says about you, Barton, that you are so good at this," Tony said.

"It means I have kids, that's all," Clint said good-naturedly.

Tony and Rhodey joined Sam at the table, where there was syrup and a pitcher of orange juice set out along with cups, a stack of napkins, and a pile of forks. Tony moved a chair aside so Rhodey could get to the table, then passed him a fork and some orange juice before sitting down next to him.

He ate the fruit off the pancake first and found that Clint had even made the dough look like it had a smiley face. He doused it in syrup. "So, Sam, what was it that you wanted?"

Sam had to swallow before he spoke. "You sure you want to talk about it now? It's about medical stuff."

Tony shrugged. "Sure, why not? Are we lacking some things?"

"Yeah, I talked to the folks downstairs and we made a list. It's not long, but the most important one is an AED-automated external defibrillator-which would have been very handy a few days ago. Instead, I had to do manual chest compressions on you, which neither of us enjoyed."

"So you're the one I can thank for the bruises?"

Sam gave him a mock salute. "The alternative was you possibly dying, so by all means, thank me. There should be an AED in every building, and preferably on every floor."

"Whatever for? I don't plan on letting that happen again, and most of the rest of you are younger than I am."

"There are also guests, including one in particular who has already had a heart attack, and any number of other reasons we might need to use one. It's better safe than sorry."

"What other reasons?" Tony asked curiously.

Sam shrugged. "Anything that can make a heart stop. Electrocution, for instance. Wanda might even be able to-"

"What about me?" Wanda asked as she sat next to Sam. Vision sat on the other side of her, though he wasn't going to eat.

"We're talking about reasons a heart might stop beating. Do you think you'd be able to stop someone's heart with your mind?"

"Would you like me to try?" she asked deadpan.

"I think we'll leave that as a hypothetical," Sam said quickly. "The point is, we needed it and didn't have it, so I'd like to get it and avoid that situation again."

"Done," Tony said. "Get the list to Hill and it'll be taken care of."

"Since when is she our secretary?" Rhodey asked.

"She has performed similar tasks in the past," Tony said defensively. "She can delegate it if she needs to."

Natasha joined them, sitting at the head of the table between Tony and Vision. Her pancakes had bananas for the eyes and the strawberry halves were fangs in the banana mouth. Tony wasn't even going to ask.

"Have you thought about who will be doing what on your behalf?" she asked Tony.

"We need to hire a PR person," Tony said. "Other than that, not really."

"What, you don't want one of us doing PR?" she asked with a grin that looked a little too much like the one on her pancake.

"Are you going to show us that list of what's allowed and forbidden? I'm really curious," Sam said.

Tony sighed. "Friday, throw the list from Dr. Mann on the conference display and leave it there until I say otherwise."

"This I've got to see," Sam said, pushing back his chair. He dumped his plate in the sink before going to stand in front of the glass.

Tony watched Sam start to read, watched him snicker, then watched his eyebrows go up, and decided he didn't want to watch anymore. He rose from the table and disposed of his dishes, carefully not bumping into Barton. "Has everyone else eaten? Laura? T'Challa?"

"Laura ate with the kids. Steve and T'Challa ate just after that; I'm not sure where they are now. By my tally, we're all accounted for," Clint said without looking up from the last of the bacon sizzling in the pan.

Tony wasn't sure what to do with his hands so he picked up and threw away the bacon packaging, dumped the coffee grounds out of the french press, and put away the paper towel roll.

"Hey, I still need that," Clint said.

Tony returned the paper towel to the counter.

"You don't need to help. I've got this, and you're supposed to be on a break."

"I don't think kitchen chores are strenuous enough to be forbidden," Tony said, but he backed out of the kitchen space nonetheless. Someone touched his shoulder and he turned to see Sam.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure."

They sat down in chairs along the railing by the conference table and Sam leaned in toward him. "While you're talking about people to hire, I'd like to suggest that we need a therapist full-time at the compound."

"Therapist as in shrink," Tony clarified.

"Yeah. Every single one of us would benefit from having someone to talk to."

"So this isn't just a way to force me to see someone? That has been tried-and failed-before."

Sam just looked at him. "You definitely need to talk to someone, Stark, but you're not the only one is what I'm saying. Think about Wanda with all she's been through. Rhodes, with the whole paralysis thing. Steve and the situation with Bucky, not to mention the skipping seventy years part. Hell, Vision would probably get something out of it too. I'm not exempt, either. And it just might help us get this team thing working again."

Tony found himself nodding. "Do you have someone in mind?"

"I know someone from the V.A. who is looking for something different. I think she'd be great."

"Send me her info, resume, the usual stuff, and tell her to come by within the next two weeks," Tony said decisively. "Are you done demanding things from me now?" he asked with a smirk.

"It's all for the common good, I swear, but yeah, I'm done. For this morning."

Tony stood and clapped him on the shoulder. "If there's anything else, just speak up." He hesitated in front of the displayed list, checking what was allowed as far as exercise was concerned (moderate walking, light weight lifting, lap swimming, and pilates; the pilates had to be a joke, he'd never actually done it), and noticed that it wasn't even eight thirty yet. The remaining hours of the day stretched out before him, empty and endless, a preview of the weeks of idleness before him, and he felt oppressed by their weight.

"Uncle Tony?" Lila's small voice asked from next to him.

He looked down at her.

"Will you read to me?" she asked eagerly. Soon after Mrs. Barton and the kids had moved to the compound, Tony had somehow found himself committed to reading a chapter a day to Lila. They had just started The Hobbit before he'd left for New York.

"Sure, honey." He followed her to one of the armchairs; he'd barely sat down before she was climbing into his lap and leaning back against his chest, holding onto the book with both hands. Her head narrowly missed a sore spot, but he wasn't going to say anything about it. "Do you remember where we left off?" he asked as he took the book from her.

"Gandalf and the dwarves visited Bilbo, and Bilbo has to decide if he's going to go on the trip with them."

That sounded vaguely familiar. "Right. Now for chapter two." Sitting and reading was something he remembered doing with his mother, so even though it felt like a waste of time most days, he thought it was sweet that Lila had latched onto him for this. He was never certain if he was pronouncing all those names correctly, but Lila didn't seem to mind.

When the chapter ended, he started to close the book but she put her hands on the pages. "Another chapter? Please? You promised to read to me the day you got back but you got sick instead." She looked at him with pleading eyes and how could he say anything but yes?

By the time they finished chapter three, Tony felt like he'd been talking for hours, though it had really only been about one. Well, that was one way to get through the day. Lila hopped down and took the book back to the small set of bookshelves against the wall that held the various books and toys.

Tony stood and stretched, looking around to see where everyone had ended up. The only other person in the room was Laura, and she had followed Lila and was telling her something quietly.

"Most everyone else is outside," Laura told him as Lila skipped toward the doors. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

"I might," Tony said noncommittally. Laura smiled at him and followed her daughter. Tony waited until he heard the door to the staircase close. "Friday, who is still in the building?"

"Captain Rogers is in the weight room. Colonel Rhodes is in the pool annex with Sam Wilson."

Tony took a deep breath and considered whether he was ready to talk to Rogers. He had a pretty good idea what Rogers had been about to ask several hours ago and, if he was careful, that was a topic he should be able to manage. Avoiding it wouldn't help in the long run, anyway.

"Hey Rogers," he said when he entered the room. The methodical blows landing on the punching bag didn't falter. Tony sat on the bench press, well within Steve's range of sight, and waited.

"Tony," Steve finally said when he stopped for a drink of water, breathing heavily. "Are you sure you can bear to talk to me now?"

"We'll find out soon enough," Tony said. "You were going to ask me about the meetings, yeah?"

Steve nodded.

"The Rehabilitation section is coming along so well that I think it will be finalized at the next meeting. The Oversight section, however, is causing a lot of heated debate. Apparently the idea of having half the panel directly represent the Avengers doesn't sit well even though that solves a lot of the problems related to disaster response. But we knew it would be an issue."

"Any comments on the Avengers-funded relief organization to address displaced persons and property damage?"

"They liked it. I'm thinking I can just rebrand the Stark Relief Foundation and take care of that even before it's official. It should help with our public image. Oh, and speaking of that, we're going to hire a PR person. Pepper and the folks at SI are great, but we need to cut some of the ties to protect both them and us, and a dedicated PR person will help clean up our public image in the long term."

"Have you looked at the news lately? You don't need to include yourself in cleaning up the public image," Steve said sourly. "It's just the rest of us that aren't faring too well."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but whatever. Our very own PR person will be a thing. Wilson also suggested that our very own therapist be a thing. Apparently he knows someone."

"Wilson always knows someone," Steve said with a small smile, then sobered. "If you hire a therapist for us, would you talk to them?"

"Would you?"

"Probably," Steve admitted. "Some people in S.H.I.E.L.D. thought I should talk to one after I came out of the ice, but Fury didn't think it was a priority so it didn't happen. So much has happened since then . . . it might help me understand some things better."

Tony made a noncommittal noise. "On the subject of the Accords, I forgot to mention that you and Rhodey are going to a meeting on my behalf in a week and a half. You'll be meeting with the subcommittee chair. Rhodey has to do his reading, and then I'll tell you both what we were scheduled to talk about."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Steve said hesitantly.

"It'll be fun. I told Rhodey to record it for me."

"Wouldn't it be easier for you to talk to her via video?"

"She's not a fan of technology. Given the crap they have to deal with at the U.N., I don't really blame her. Besides, arguing with bureaucrats is definitely on my 'forbidden' list, and you have to go back to acting like the leader sometime because there is no way in hell I'm keeping this 'head of the Avengers' gig any longer than I absolutely have to. There's a reason I'm no longer CEO of my own company."

"Well, if you insist."

Tony excused himself at that point, both to let Steve go back to what he was doing and to forestall the memories that were vying for his conscious attention. He directed his steps toward his workshop and asked, "Friday, what's the rundown on the news stories about me?"

She summarized what had been said thus far and the generally positive sentiments directed toward him, especially internationally where his current situation was directly attributed to his work on the Accords and the rift with Captain America. Which was mostly true, though incomplete. It's not like those were the only sources of stress in his life.

The American media was more critical of him and his work. Many outlets still supported Captain America when it came to the Accords, thanks to their suspicion of any foreign body trying to take away American rights and their dislike of the U.N. in particular.

When he reached the workshop, he sat at the computer and dashed off a message to his real estate agent about the island idea, then checked for messages from Pepper. There was one from a few hours earlier, letting him know the new photos and a follow-up statement would be released later that morning.

"The statement was just released, boss," Friday said. She was getting better at anticipating his requests.

"Alert me immediately if there are any stories from Christine Everhart."

"Yes, boss."

"All right, where were we?"