Disclaimer: Nope, Marvel still isn't mine.
A/N: I'm back! Sorry I disappeared for so long, but here's a long chapter to make up for it. I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I hope it isn't too bad. Thank you all so much for the great reviews and for adding this story to alerts/favorites! I should hopefully get back into a more regular posting schedule now that the holidays are nearly over.
Bruce held the arc reactor in one hand, his glasses in another, as he studied the device with the methodical eye of a genius scientist. He obviously felt no need to make his examination quick.
"Bruce, you about done with that?" Tony asked, feigning indifference.
Bruce didn't seem to hear him. He held the reactor up to get a better look at it, and turned away as if to leave.
"Bruce?"
The doctor disappeared, and the burning in his chest started.
Tony gasped and pressed a hand to his chest as his surroundings morphed back into the bleak grey room he was being held in.
"Decorations," he breathed heavily. "Haven't gotten any better."
"I have a feeling you'll love them soon enough," a voice said, its owner nowhere to be seen.
He couldn't quite remember how many hallucinations he'd had now or how long had passed. He was never given much of a break between them, and everything just seemed to blend together now.
Before he could really get his bearings, a cloudy gas once again filled the room, obstructing his view. He tried to hold his breath, but just like the times before the smoke persisted until his vision started to blur. Once his vision returned the gas began to dissipate. As the smoke cleared he found himself sitting on the sofa in the communal room of the tower. For a brief moment he felt relieved at the sight.
"Happy now, Stark?"
Tony craned his neck around to see Steve advancing on him, in full Captain America garb. "Not really."
"Just had to do it your way, didn't you?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "My way is usually the best, so…." He felt himself being pulled into the scene despite his best efforts. The more he resisted, the more lightheaded he became.
Rodgers' stare hardened. "Stop pretending to be a hero, Stark."
"This seems repetitive."
"You know what?" Steve loomed over him for a moment before shoving him back against the sofa. "A horrible privilege? You don't deserve it."
Tony tried to get up, but the super soldier held him down with an arm pressed against his neck. With his free hand, Rogers ripped his dress shirt open, twisted the arc reactor, and forcibly pulled it out. Steve continued to hold him to the sofa while holding the reactor just out of reach.
Tony's eyes widened as his jaw clenched. He reached out for the reactor while trying to pry Rogers' arm away from his throat. A knee to his abdomen cut off his attempt and made breathing significantly harder. "Cap," he tried as his chest tightened painfully.
Steve moved away, the arc reactor clutched firmly in his hand. Tony tried to stand, but his legs gave out on him. His muscles weren't getting enough oxygen. The shrapnel was moving closer and closer to his heart. He could feel it.
His friend had just ripped out the thing keeping him alive.
Steve had…
His chest suddenly exploded with a sharp, constricting pain. He knew what a cardiac arrest felt like at this point.
The betrayal was still the worst though. Staring into Steve's angry eyes, with no real idea of why this was happening….
A shuttering gasp tore through him as the room blurred and Tony was thrown back into the real world. Or was it the real world? What was real anymore? The anger in Steve's eyes had felt more real than the empty room around him. Maybe this was the hallucination. A dream he couldn't wake up from.
Tony shifted, which led to a grimace of pain when his back rubbed against the rough texture of the chair. It was easier to breath now, but his chest still ached in a way that he didn't think was related to the broken rib or various bruises. The skin around one of the gashes on his abdomen was a little warm to the touch as well, he noted. Probably not the best sign.
He was still catching his breath when the door opened. There were several things he would have expected to see. Marcus being at the top of the list with the goonies and Godzilla a close second. What he didn't expect was Romanoff.
There was a burlap sack over her head – and really, how cliché was that? – her hands were restrained behind her back and the two guards held onto each of her arms with another guard behind them wielding a gun. Not that that they were paranoid or anything.
Tony stood up, ignoring the violent protest his side made as he did so, and waited to see what was about to happen. It couldn't be good, considering the far-too-condescending look one of the guards was shooting him.
"So…what? We're condensing prisoners now?" he asked as the bag was removed from over Romanoff's head. Her eyes flickered around the room and then landed on him in a way that made his skin crawl. He knew the look. That was the Black Window's predatory look. The look she got when honing in on a target.
The guards were already shuffling back out of the door before the restraints around her wrist were even completely unlocked. As soon as they were finished and Romanoff was free they disappeared from the room.
This was definitely not good.
He took a closer look at the assassin, who was still staring at him, and noticed the slight glaze over her eyes. He thought they might also be dilated, but it was hard to tell in the lighting. "Romanoff?"
The only response he received was a black and red blur before a fist slammed into the side of his face. He managed to duck out of the way of the second and placed himself behind the chair, so it was between the two of them. "So you are upset I got us into this? Let's try to talk this out, Romano…"
A spin kick knocked the chair away and forced him to take an unsteady step backwards. His head throbbed with the sudden movements, and a stabbing pain shot through his side. He blocked another punch aimed at his head, but her other fist collided with his stomach at the same time. He barely had time to recover before his legs were kicked out from under him. His head hit the ground hard enough to make his vision swim out of focus and nausea twist his stomach.
By the time his head and vision cleared, Romanoff's hands were around his neck and a knee was pressed into his abdomen. For hands so small, they were a lot stronger than appearances would have led anyone to believe.
He tried to pry them away, but the lack of oxygen made it hard to focus. "Not…funny….Romanoff," he managed to gasp out.
She only tightened her hold.
Blackness was encroaching on his vision by the time his brain kicked in. He used his arms to knock her elbows down, loosening her grip enough that he was able to roll out from under her. He coughed as his lungs tried to draw in enough air, but the relief was short lived.
A bare foot was shoved into his back, between his shoulder blades, and pushed him down. "Romanoff!" The reactor scraped against the concrete.
Before he could recover a pair of unrelenting hands were on him. One hand wrapped around his face, the other curved around the back of his head. He knew the hold.
With one fluid movement she would snap his neck.
His heart hammered against his damaged rib cage. He had to act fast. "Natasha!"
The use of her first name seemed to snap her out of her groove. She froze, hands poised and ready to snap him like kindling in a second's notice.
"Whatever they brainwashed you into believing, it's not true," he told her. "You and I are different, Romanoff, but we're the same in some ways too. We don't trust easily. If you remember anything about me, you know that. Think, Romanoff. Remember. I trust you."
It took a lot of effort, but he forced his body to relax. His muscles went lax, his entire frame lowering slightly and making himself dead weight. He felt Romanoff's hands tighten around his head, her fingers digging into the flesh of his face. To his surprise, she began to shake. Her grip didn't loosen, nor did the foot wedged into his back slacken any. He was pinned down by a deadly assassin who could kill him with little effort. Her fingernails scrapped against his cheek to the point he was sure blood was drawn.
"You can trust me too," he reminded her carefully.
"Stark?"
He didn't think he'd ever forget how the assassin's voice wavered, how it sounded empty and yet...desperate. Unless, of course, she snapped his neck and killed him in the next few seconds. "I don't think my head was meant to be held in this position indefinitely."
He released a breath when, ridiculously slowly, she let go of him.
The foot moved off his spine as the assassin stepped away. "What just happened?" she asked.
Tony pushed himself up to his knees and tried to hide the wince as he did so. "I think I'm the one who's supposed to be asking you that," he replied while forcing himself to his feet. He turned to face her and stood completely still as she looked him over. Her gaze was intense, but not threatening as it had been before.
"Are you alright, Stark?"
He gave her a once over as well, taking careful note of if her eyes still appeared distant. They didn't, much to his further relief. "Are you?"
"I was drugged."
"I assumed as much." He relaxed slightly and resisted the urge to lay back down until his body stopped trying to remind him of his mortality. "Worn off just in time," he commented nonchalantly, mostly to break the tension. He could already feel the bruises forming around his neck, and he doubted the drugs had worn off enough to break through the kind of fury that had caused said bruises. Romanoff had fought through whatever concoction Marcus had subjected her to. He had a feeling that it was only because of her sheer will, and possibly his big mouth, that he was alive.
She didn't apologize, didn't attempt to check his injuries, and didn't look away. She just stared, her eyes a blank slate that he couldn't read. It was a little unnerving. Even when Romanoff was at her most secretive, he could usually get some kind of reading off her, whether real or not.
"So if you're done trying to kill me…." He waited for a response, but only received a slightly raised eyebrow. "I'll take that as a 'maybe'. Any idea of how to get out of here?"
"None that I'm going to tell you."
He nodded as he moved around the room, mostly to try and get her eyes off of him. Chances were Marcus was watching at the very least, and probably listening as well. Hatching a verbal plan right now wouldn't be the greatest of ideas. He had to distract her somehow though.
"Hey, Marcus, buddy," he said, looking up at the camera in the corner. "Think you could get us something to eat? Romanoff's probably hungry now that she's done trying to kill me." He used the nonchalance to cover his actual unease. The fact that someone he trusted had just tried to strangle him and break his neck was a little disconcerting, especially after the series of hallucinations he'd recently experienced. It had all hit a little too close to home with the reminder of Andy still hanging over his head.
What was it with people betraying him anyway? Did he have a sign on his back that said 'stab here'? He could trust Romanoff, he knew he could, but that didn't stop the irrational weariness that remained. She'd been drugged, he told himself again. And maybe this was just another hallucination. Maybe being an Avenger, finding people he was willing to care about, all of it…maybe it was all just a manufactured lie. The physical pain he currently felt was a little too real though.
He made a point to turn his back towards Romanoff as he circled the room, both for her reassurance that he still trusted her, and to prove to himself that he wasn't so weak as to be afraid. He had just stopped next to the chair when the door flung open.
One look at Marcus told him the older man was livid. Tony glanced over at Romanoff. "Think he might be a little angry at me for not dying?"
A sudden stabbing pain, like tiny needles of fire, ricocheted up his leg and he automatically reached out to steady himself on the chair. Bullet wound, he instantly realized. In the same leg as the knife wound. A quick look down confirmed the presence of a hole in his lower leg. It was through-and-through by the looks of it, and hadn't hit anything vital. Nothing major. He could still walk on it even. Though the adrenaline was probably helping with that.
He looked back up and leveled Marcus with a 'seriously?' expression. "Was that necessary?"
The gun Marcus still had pointed at him didn't waver. "Made me feel better."
"Well as long as you feel better." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Romanoff. He chanced a glance over and her eyes darted to the chair. It was so quick he doubted anyone else had noticed.
Apparently they had a game plan.
"Get Agent Romanoff back to her room," Marcus snapped.
Tony took the split-second break in concentration to grab the chair with both hands and swing it at Marcus. It didn't do much good. Marcus hurriedly took a few steps back and the two goonies rushed towards him. It was enough to give Romanoff her opening though.
It was hard to deal with an assassin when you were focused on the distraction.
In a matter of seconds Romanoff had disarmed the goonies. Marcus made an escape down the hall, but Tony refrained from chasing after him. Instead he limped over to the first fallen guard and relieved him of the small tablet tucked into his back pocket.
By the time he stood up again the remaining guard in the hallway had been shot and was probably dead. Romanoff re-entered the room and handed him a gun, which he accepted without complaint while already using the tablet to hack into Marcus' system.
"Follow me, Agent Romanoff," he began while stepping over the bodies and into the hall. "The exit is this way."
Godzilla suddenly appeared at the end of the hall just as he stepped out of the room. Tony raised the gun and shot him in the chest without hesitation and with perfect aim. He'd designed weapons for a living. He certainly knew how to use them proficiently.
He only stiffened minutely when Romanoff raised her gun in his direction and fired three shots. The bullets flew over his shoulder and two 'thuds' told him she had hit her marks as well. He led the way down the corridor without comment and Romanoff fell into step next to him.
"Can you send a message to SHIELD?" she asked as they peered cautiously around the corner.
For the complexity of the place, there weren't all that many people actually here. "I sent a signal out, but everything has been shut down." That was probably where Marcus had run off to, Tony figured. He'd done a complete shutdown of the system just moments after Tony had gotten his hands on the tablet. "Mobile access has been cut off as well."
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" she asked dryly just before shooting a guard who attempted to sneak up behind them.
"I saw the blueprints for the building before the tablet died."
"Don't get us lost, Stark."
"Yes, dear." A door caught his attention and he turned back to check it out. He went through the brief glimpse of the layout he'd gotten and realized it could only be one thing. "How do you feel about explosions?"
Romanoff looked as if she were about to protest, but after a quick glance around to make sure no one was closing in on them, she gave a subtle nod. "Make it quick."
He pushed the door open, and smirked when his eyes fell on the weapons sitting haphazardly around the room. There weren't many of them, and no security measures had been taken to secure them. Apparently Marcus had been confident in his confinement plans enough that he didn't think additional security was necessary.
The guns weren't the most advance weapons he'd ever dealt with, but not many were all that impressive compared to Stark Industries' line of weapons back in the day. He tossed the useless tablet onto a desk and got to work. It wouldn't take much, or very long. A bit of ammo here, a wire jerked out of a spare camera laying nearby, and a few rudimentary tools that were conveniently kept under the desk.
They didn't call him a genius for nothing.
"Hurry up, Stark," Romanoff hissed from her lookout position in the doorway.
"Don't rush perfection."
"Stark."
He rolled his eyes and finished his project in a flash. "Alright, now we should get going. Quickly." He quickened his semi-limping pace down the hallway. "Seriously, let's go, I couldn't really put a timer on that thing."
Romanoff apparently believed him. Her cautious prowling turning into long strides while he had to force himself not to pass out when his lungs stubbornly refused to work properly. It clicked at that moment why the ache and pressure in his chest was so familiar.
They definitely needed to get out quickly.
They were nearing the exit, Tony could see the stairs that would lead out of the underground complex and into the main structure, when bullets began to whiz by them.
Now would be a really good time for him to have his suit.
He swung around and fired at the already wounded goonie while Romanoff turned in the opposite direction to take down the remaining guard. Silence followed and Tony glanced only briefly at Romanoff to make sure she wasn't injured. His inspection was interrupted by the sudden realization that she had her arm pressed against his as if to lend him support.
For a second he thought Romanoff might actually be worried about him.
He brushed it off and hurried towards the exit. The place was going to blow any minute now. With one quick shot the lock fell off the door and they climbed up the stairs. What they emerged into was a large open space that resembled a barn more than anything. The only things missing were the animals and the smell.
Romanoff took the lead, but stopped abruptly, grabbed his arm, and tugged him over to a wall where crates were stacked. "How much of an explosion will there be?" she asked while picking what he realized was a first aid kit out of one of the boxes.
"Not much," he answered. "Enough to cave in the basement. Probably."
She glanced at him sharply at that, but didn't comment. Instead she crouched down, pushed the leg of his pants up, and wrapped the bullet wound with the gauze she'd found. She was done in a few seconds and it was obvious with how quickly and proficiently she'd wrapped it that she'd done this more than once.
"It would've been fine, you know," he pointed out when she turned and started making her way to the large double doors that were already open.
On the way out he noticed other supplies. Gasoline, a tank for plane fuel, food stuffs, and…
Tony paused, reached into a crate, confiscated one of the items, and then hurried out of the barn while ignoring the various protests his body was making.
