Rhodey bent down and picked up the tray he had used to carry Tony's dinner while trying to avoid the mess spread across the floor. He frowned at its dented corner as he stood and headed back down to the kitchen. The thing was probably worth more than he made in a month. He was halfway down the stairs when a thumping bass line suddenly vibrated through the air. Rhodey paused and looked back, then sighed and continued on to the kitchen.

There were actually two kitchens in the mansion, a full service one to cater the large parties Tony hosted from time to time, and a less intimidating one that Rhodey had taken over during the last three months, rearranging it to suit his own needs. Forced to take a medical leave of absence after the attack on the convoy, Rhodey had jumped at Obadiah Stane's suggestion that he stay at Tony's place in Dubai instead of heading all the way back to California while he recovered. Pepper had joined him for the first week, while Stane had stayed in one of the two guest villas on the property-- stopping by occasionally to give Rhodey updates on how the search was progressing. Rhodey had started cooking for them, just to give himself something to do, and as the search dragged on, had restocked and remodeled the kitchen whenever he was at the mansion to keep his guilt for failing Tony at bay.

He dropped the tray on the center island; wincing slightly at the clatter it made hitting the granite counter top. Yanking the door of the refrigerator open, he pulled out the plate of leftovers-- spaghetti with a sauce based on a recipe his mom had given him after Tony had referred to it as "primo and the only sauce that should be on spaghetti."

Removing the cling wrap, he dropped the plate into the microwave, slammed the door shut, then punched up three minutes and start, easily imagining his mom's protests at reheating spaghetti. It wasn't until he was moving his hand away from the microwave that he realized he was trembling.

He stepped back until he bumped into the edge of the counter, then leaned against the island to stare at his hands. He knew it was a delayed reaction to what had happened in the hallway. He could still see Tony pressed against the wall staring blankly into space, and felt the same helplessness that had filled him as he waited for Tony to return to the present. Turning around, Rhodey placed his hands flat against the granite surface to stop them from trembling, and closed his eyes as he struggled to get control of himself.

He was beginning to wonder if this time his instinct to protect Tony might have only made things worse. Maybe it would have been better if they had stayed at the base hospital; there Tony would have had access to professional help, people who knew how to deal with, and help him come to terms with, what happened to him.

However, this was Tony-- Rhodey knew the last thing he was going to do was open up to a stranger.

Which just leaves you, and you have no idea what you're doing, do you?

A sharp twinge from his knee forced Rhodey to shift his weight off the leg and gave him something else to focus on. He waited until the pain subsided and then limped over to the cupboard above the microwave and took out the bottle of prescription strength ibuprofen left over from his medical leave. He downed a tablet, and put the bottle back just as the microwave dinged.

He pulled the plate out, checked to make sure it was warm enough to serve, then put it on the tray and headed back upstairs, determined not to screw things up anymore than he already had.

Good thing we're leaving tomorrow. Can't do much more damage than I already have, can I?

He ignored the voice that told him-- yes, you can.


"What is this stuff anyway?"

Setting the mop against the wall, Rhodey leaned against the doorframe and looked at the half full wine glass Tony was holding up. Cleaning the mess in the hallway had helped him regain some of his composure and Rhodey managed to say evenly, "What, you don't like it?"

Tony looked thoughtful as he stared at the drink. "Actually, it's not bad. I'm just wondering why it's green."

"Spinach."

Tony looked as if he was having trouble processing that information. "Spinach?" He looked into the glass. "You put spinach in my drink?"

"Yep."

"Why?" Rhodey was amused by the tone of astonishment in Tony's voice.

Pushing himself forward, Rhodey walked over to the bed and sat facing Tony. "Mostly because I don't see you voluntarily eating your vegetables."

Tony raised an eyebrow as the beginning of a smile twitched the corners of his lips. "So you stuck them in a blender and hit puree?" he asked.

"Along with a few other things, yes." Rhodey frowned. "Are you dissing my culinary skills?"

The smile eased across Tony's face as he answered, "No, I just think it would have gone better with the steak."

"Yeah well, not my problem is it." He hadn't meant to say that, or to say it as sharply as he did, but it was out before he could stop it. Tony's smile faded as he shifted his gaze back to the drink in his hand.

Well, shit. Good job handling that, Rhodey.

A tension Rhodey had never felt with Tony settled between them. Rhodey took a deep breath and leaned back against the headboard, resting his leg on the bed. The knee throbbed, and an involuntary hiss of pain slipped out as he leaned forward to shift his leg to a more comfortable position. He was aware of Tony watching him but refused to meet his gaze.

When the pain became more tolerable, Rhodey leaned back again. "Oh, by the way," he said, unable to take the silence, "we'll be heading out tomorrow; probably sometime after one."

He could hear Tony pushing the remaining food around his plate. "Already?" he asked evenly.

Rhodey nodded. "Since you're up and about, I figure it'll be best to get you home before you got too bored."

"Because a bored Tony is an accident waiting to happen?"

Rhodey couldn't help but smile as he remembered where that sentence had come from. He had snapped that line off as an explanation to Pepper as to why he was dragging Tony out the door after Pepper had called him one day yelling about Tony trying to blow up the house or something to that effect. He never found out what Tony had done to cause Pepper to lose her cool, and as far as he knew, that was only the second time that he had managed to do that to her in the entire time she had been working for Tony.

"Yeah, exactly. Really don't want to find out what you'd turn, say, the coffee machine into, if you ran out of things to do."

"The coffee machine is on the fritz?"

Rhodey mentally kicked himself. He looked up and pointed a finger at Tony. "No. And if you touch the coffee machine, I'll be forced to hurt you."

Tony nodded then asked hopefully, "How bout the cappuccino machine then?"

"No. You just…no. Forget I even said that."

Leaning back in the chair, Tony pushed the noodles around one last time, then dropped the fork and closed his eyes. "So, if we're leaving tomorrow, that means we'll be back home on Friday?"

"Yeah. I told Pepper to keep the welcoming committee down to a minimum."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Rhodey frowned at the flat tone of Tony's voice. He had expected Tony to be a little more excited at the prospect of going home. "We can stay a little longer if you want," he said cautiously.

Tony looked at Rhodey. "You using my plane to fly us back?"

"No."

"Okay then, we'll leave tomorrow." He closed his eyes again. "Don't want to keep the Air Force waiting." Rhodey wondered what difference it made who flew him back. "So, do I get the bed tonight, or do I have to sleep in the chair?"

Rhodey shrugged and went along with the shift in conversation. "No, I'll let you sleep in the big boy's bed tonight and see how it goes." Tony chuckled, and Rhodey felt some of the tension ease at the sound. He stood and picked up the tray. "I'll finish cleaning up. Let me know if you need something. "

"I will."


It took an hour for Rhodey to figure out where Tony had disappeared to, and when he did, he realized it should have been the first place he looked. The reporters Tony was trying to avoid had enough sense not to risk their lives. Tony, unfortunately, had the self-preservation instincts of a lemming.

He stepped out onto the roof of the hotel and carefully made his way over to where Tony was sitting on the ledge. He would have made a noise to let Tony know he was there-- the last thing he needed was Tony falling off the edge because he had startled him-- but he doubted Tony would hear him over the sounds of the explosions and the rapid rattle snap of anti-aircraft fire.

When he reached Tony's side, he leaned on the ledge and look out over the city. The fires spreading through the city silhouetted the buildings in front of them. There was a crump that vibrated through the air and through the bricks Rhodey leaned against, and then a blinding flash, and then a new cloud of smoke rolled into the night. White tracer fire arched into the sky, filling the air over the city as the gunners searched for the F-117A Nighthawk that had dropped the bomb. Rhodey silently wished the pilot of the bomber good luck.

Glancing at Tony, he found him watching the destruction with a focus that frightened him more than the proximity of the bombing did. Tony was huddled under a blanket, but Rhodey could still see the blue white glow of the Arc Reactor, and had to resist the urge to cover the glow up. He also resisted the urge to grab Tony and drag him to somewhere safer than a front row seat to a bombing campaign, though common sense was screaming at him to do exactly that.

He briefly wondered why he tended to shove his common sense into a corner when he was around Tony.

Rhodey studied the man beside him. Tony looked worn out and tired, not a surprise considering the news he had just received, and Rhodey could smell alcohol on his breath. Rhodey shook his head and shouted, "You all right?"

Instead of answering, Tony nodded his head towards the firestorm that was growing bigger by the minute and asked quietly, "How much of that do you think is a result of Stark tech?"

Rhodey shrugged, not finding it strange at all that he had no trouble hearing Tony over all the noise. "I don't know, probably a third. That new guidance system you designed is working like a charm according to the talk on deck. You should be proud."

"You'd think." Tony sipped his drink, and then asked, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out there, I don't know, saving the world from the bad guys?"

"I was looking for you."

"Why? I'm fine."

Rhodey blew out an exasperated breath. "I doubt that."

Tony took another sip from his glass and finally looked at Rhodey. "What, you saying I'm lying? Yeah, okay, I just found out my parents got wiped out by something as mundane as a car crash, but hey," he waved his glass at the explosions rocking the city, "I'm still having a better day than those sons of bitches." He finished off the drink and reached down to pull up a bottle of Jack Daniel's that Rhodey suspected one of the reporters in the hotel had snuck through customs. He knew it was a good bet the reporter had handed it over in hopes of getting an exclusive out of Tony.

Tony poured himself another glass and started drinking again.

An alarm went off, a repeating buzzing tone that Rhodey wanted to respond to, but he wasn't about to leave as long as Tony remained sitting on the edge.

"What are you doing out here?"

Tony looked at him. "What do you think?"

"Suicide comes to mind right now."

"I know quicker and less painful ways than this to off myself, Rhodey," Tony said as he looked back at the dying city.

Rhodey knew it was the truth, but a tight line of pressure around his chest squeezed the breath out of him when he realized that he would never find Tony in time to stop him if he did decide to take that route.

"Then why are you out here?" Rhodey asked.

"Just wanted to see what the legacy of Stark Industries was."

Rhodey didn't quite follow that explanation. "What the legacy of Stark Industries was? Would have thought that was obvious."

Tony rolled his eyes and Rhodey was sure he had totally missed the point of Tony's statement. "Are you going to get that?" Tony asked in a bored voice.

"Get what?"

Tony waved his hand and the buzzing alarm Rhodey had heard earlier suddenly became louder and more persistent.

Shaking his head, Rhodey snapped, "Forget about that right now, I want you to explain to me what you meant by Stark Industries' legacy."

Tony sipped his drink, and then shook his head. "No you don't."

"Yes I--"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then make me understand!" Rhodey pleaded.

Tony frowned, snapping his fingers in front of Rhodey's face. "You need to get that Rhodey," he said.

Rhodey shook his head. "No, damn it, we're going to talk, right now!"

"No, it's time for you to leave." Tony snapped his fingers again.

Rhodey shoved Tony's hand away.

"Rhodey!"

"Colonel Rhodes?"

Rhodey jerked awake, startled by the sudden switch between Tony's urgent shout and Jarvis's calm voice, then twisted around to slapped the off button on the alarm buzzing in his ear. Groaning, he rubbed his face and rolled onto his back, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

Rhodey took a deep breath, then let it out in a sharp exhale before saying, "I'm up Jarvis, thanks." Dropping his hands to the bed, he stared up at nothing for a minute. "Is Tony up yet?" he eventually asked.

"I am now!" he heard Tony shout from the hallway. Glancing towards the half open door, a door he was sure he had closed when he'd gone to bed last night, Rhodey watched as Tony walk by. "Are you sure that's where it is, Jarvis?" he heard Tony ask.

"Positive, sir."

Closing his eyes, Rhodey decided he probably didn't want to know what it was Tony was searching for, but knew he'd find out eventually.

Rhodey groaned and rubbed his face, then flipped the blanket back. "Jarvis?" he asked, "Tell me you have some coffee brewing."

"A cup is brewing now."

Nodding, Rhodey pushed off the bed. "Thanks."