"Care to explain?" Clint crossed his arms over his chest, his face stern and jaw set.

"I don't believe it's my place to tell Stark's life story. You'll have to take it up with him." Natasha was glaring daggers at the archer now, causing him to soften his gaze.

"Nat, come on… the man just had a full blown panic attack, mumbling some fucked up shit about blood and killing people and some dude named Yinsen or whatever the fu-"

"I said it's not my place, Clint."

"But-"

"Natasha is right, Barton. Tony is very private, we all know that. He was kind enough to give us a home and he works his ass off for this team; the least we can do is respect his privacy." Steve cut him off, hoping to calm him down before Natasha murders him. He doesn't know much about Tony, but what he does know is mostly bits and pieces from the conversations they've had while the billionaire was completely drunk. The other pieces were from Widow, but even she didn't know much about Stark. He keeps nearly every personal thing that isn't common knowledge out of his SHIELD file, so it was considerably difficult to learn about him unless he told you himself.

There was a moment of silence while the archer considered the Captain's reasoning. He still didn't like just brushing this off, but he couldn't force them to explain anymore than he could Tony. "Fine, if he doesn't want to talk about it, I won't force him, okay?" With that, the archer left the room for his own to turn in for the night.

Thor, after helping the assassin and the super soldier clean up the left-overs of their meal, also left for his room, leaving Natasha and Steve on the common floor. Natasha had returned to her earlier spot on the couch, reading her book with a blanket draped over her lap. Steve sat on the other couch, taking advantage of Natasha's quiet company by sketching her in his sketchbook. He knew she didn't mind, or at least he hoped not. She was often hard to draw though; her expression hard to capture on paper. When she was like this though, curled up on the couch with a book, it was easy to see her usually tense posture relax a bit, and though she was always on guard, she seemed more comfortable than usual.

The time passed slowly, and they had only been sitting in silence for about 20 minutes until Steve couldn't help but ask the question that had been bothering him since Bruce brought their genius to bed.

"Will he be okay?"

Natasha didn't seem to even acknowledge his question for minute, but he knew that she heard him. The truth is; she wasn't entirely sure if Stark could ever be 'okay,' but that doesn't mean he couldn't get better. Out of everyone on the team, she knew the most about him, but even she only knew the general details. Sure, she knew more about Afghanistan than the others, and she was sure she was the only one besides Rhodey, Pepper, and Fury that knew about the past palladium poisoning problem; but she didn't know any details, and that's what bothered her. As far as she could tell, Steve didn't know anything at all about Tony either, except that he was Howard Stark's genius son, until Loki reappeared. Since he returned, it seems that Tony's been slowly falling apart, and it seems that Steve or someone on the team is usually there to pick up the pieces the best they can.

"Natasha?"

She bookmarked her page, standing from her position on the couch, and set the book on the coffee table. She met his expectant gaze, and finally repaid him with an answer.

"He's Tony Stark. What do you think?" She gave him a small smile, and left the room, leaving him with his thoughts.


The next morning, Steve awoke from a rather fitful night of sleep. He kept repeating the assassin's vague answer over and over in his head until eventually it lulled him to sleep; not that he slept soundly. He'd been awoken throughout the night by nightmares of the ice, the plane crashing and Peggy's voice. But he would also dream of Tony's panicked mumblings, and would be faced with the question yet again; will he be okay?

"He's Tony Stark. What do you think?" He had to have whispered the same words to himself dozens of times that night, and again during his morning run. Surprisingly, the genius was still fast asleep from when Bruce took him to his room last night. Natasha was the only other person awake when he left.

Once outside, he took his usual course, just like any other day. But it felt different; like he wasn't actually doing it. It felt like muscle memory or something of the sort. His body was running but his mind was far away. Tony had to be alright, right? He's Tony Stark. But what does that mean, exactly? Steve was still a bit new to the 21st century, and although he did research on Tony after being unfrozen from the ice and learning of Howard Stark's death, he still didn't know everything he would like to about the son of his old friend. All he knew was that he used to make weapons, but decided on shutting down the weapons production of his company after returning from Afghanistan. He has the arc reactor in his chest to keep him alive, which Natasha explained as well as a few minor details about his three months in captivity, and he also knew that Howard was a horrible person, contrary to what he originally believed. After learning about Howard following his disappearance, he wished he could go back in time and punch him square in the face, but he knew he could never bring it up with Tony. He was never meant to hear about Tony's childhood; he knew the billionaire never had any intention of telling him, for whatever reason, and the fact that he knew about some of it was accidental. So unless he was ever approached with the subject by Tony himself, he told himself he wouldn't bring it up out of respect.

Soon enough, Steve was back at the Tower without ever feeling like he left. He certainly looked like he went for a run, and he knew that he did, but he certainly didn't feel it. When he stepped out of the elevator and into the living room Natasha greeted him with a small nod as she took a sip of her coffee. He marched up to her, looking her square in the eye.

"Tell me everything you know about Tony."

"Steve…" She set down her mug and crossed her arms over her chest, "You said it yourself, Stark is very private. I won't tell you anything, and even if I did, I don't know much more than you do."

"Natasha-"

"I won't. Let it go." She gave him a deathly glare and returned to her coffee.

Right; Respect his privacy Rogers. If he wants to talk about it he will.

…Right?


Tony lay staring up at his ceiling, contemplating whether or not he really wanted to get out of bed this morning. He had gotten 6 hours of sleep, which was a lot, considering it's him. He really wasn't tired anymore; he felt well rested after 4 days with no sleep. There were so many ideas for projects he could be working on just filling up in his head, but he knew if he got up he risked one of the Avengers seeing him. That was the last thing he needed right now.

He felt pathetic. His entire team had seen him completely break down and mumble some crazy psycho shit; they probably thought he was a maniac. What if they thought he was too "unstable" to be on the team?

Oh god.

What if they kicked him off the team? He would never admit it to their faces but the Avengers were everything to him; it was everything he had. What would he do if he lost them? He had already lost Pepper, which he completely understood why she left him, but it still hurt like hell. What if it was happening all over again?

He had to suck it up. He had to deal with his own shit, on his own. He refused to lose them; refused to let Howard or Obie or the Ten Rings or Loki ruin this for him. He wouldn't let himself fall under one of Amora's spells again either. They probably didn't trust him much after that, what with almost killing Clint. He felt horrible about that. He tried so hard to fight it but he just couldn't; he wasn't strong enough.

He wasn't enough.

If he couldn't be enough on his own, then he'd make sure the others could. He was already making the plans in his head, and it was motivation enough to sneak out of his room and into his lab.

He had an Iron Man contingency plan to create.


Once he managed to make it to his workshop undetected (hopefully; he does live with two spies), he immediately sat down and got to work. Loki and Amora were still out for his head, for whatever damn reason, and that meant mind control in the future was very much so a possibility. He wasn't entirely sure how to stop the actual control from happening in the first place. Admittedly, he hadn't quite figured out how Asgardian science worked yet.

Science.

Not magic.

So, if he couldn't stop the mind games, he'd make it so that his team had a way to bring him down if necessary. Since Clint was the one he almost killed, and has past experience with mind control, he decided on making the birdie in charge of shutting him down. While lying in bed that morning, he had been designing an arrow in his head that would completely short out his armor, without harming the arc reactor in his chest. That way, there was no command to JARVIS that could be over ridden in some bullshit way, and he knew Clint wouldn't miss nor would he hesitate.

See? He could be responsible.

"Jarvis, we'll save this design under Avengers; Hawkeye; nowhere else. I'll be damned if SHIELD ever got a hold of this shit."

"Of course, Sir." Once the AI was silent, Tony's music began blaring through the lab speakers without him even having to ask, and he couldn't help but let a faint smile tug at his lips.

No one knows him better than JARVIS.

He continued working and improving on the design for the rest of the day, and the night. Once he had it the way he intended it to be, he began working on the actual construction of the arrow. JARVIS informed him once or twice of Steve or Bruce requesting access to the shop, but he denied each time. He was so focused for the first time in a week or two, and it felt nice. His shoulder was healed by now, though it was sometimes a bit stiff, and the bruising on his face from Natasha was beginning to heal, even if it still hurt like a bitch. Not that it mattered; all he really needed was his hands. They had been itching for something to do, just like his brain. He had so many things to work on, and finally being able to create something was just so nice.

He spent a total of 3 days, 19 hours, and 23 minutes down in his lab (according to JARVIS) before he had a quiver's worth of Anti-Iron Man arrows completed. He had tested the first one on the second morning, and it worked beautifully, of course. He made it, after all. After that, he made sure that Clint would have enough so that he wouldn't have to make them again for hopefully a while, assuming they didn't have to use them much.

"J, get big bird down 'ere, yeah?"

"Mr. Barton is claiming to be busy."

"Tell him I got a new toy for him."

"…He's on his way now, Sir."

Tony smirked at how dog-like his bird friend could be. Wave a bone in his face and he'll come running. That's how it was with most of the people he knew though; they couldn't give two shits about him unless he's got something for them. Typical though, considering he was a billionaire. It's to be expected.

Before his thoughts could run too wild, Barton was promenading into the lab, "This better be good, Stark! I was busy kicking Thor's Asgardian ass at Mario Kart. What's this new toy? I'm intrigued, and dude, you look like shit. When's the last time you slept or even ate?"

"Sir has been awake for approximately 3 d-"

"Mute!"

Clint raised an eyebrow at the mechanic but didn't comment. He'd just get Steve to drag him out of here later, and if that didn't work he'd just get Nat to do it.

'Anyways," Tony rubbed the back of his neck for a second before reaching for something on his desk. He held it out to Clint, "here."

There archer let the item be dropped into the palm of his hand, and he studied it for a moment. It was obviously an arrow of some kind. "Wow! Uh, thank…thank you! It's a um…a…." He scratched his head, giving Tony the 'help me out here' look. "Okay spill it. I have no idea what this is for."

"It's an arrow, bird brain."

"I know that. But what does it do?"

"Right, that. That, my friend," he gestured to the arrow, which was red and gold like his armor, and then to the quiver of them on his desk, "That will completely short out my armor. I call it the 'Anti-Iron Man Arrow.' Get it? Because it's an arrow? And it shuts down the suit? You're welcome. Dismissed." He waved his hand and turned back to his desk to start tinkering with some unfinished project he had laying off to the side.

"Anti-Iron Man arrow? Why the hell do I need this, Stark?"

"Well hopefully so I don't blow your friggin' head off, Barton."

Clint gaped at him for a moment, realizing what he was talking about and that he was totally serious.

"If this is about what happened with the Enchantress, it's alright, Tony. I completely understand, there's nothing you can do when it comes to mind contro-"

"No. That's the thing, Clint. There is something I can do. I could have killed you, or anyone else on the team, except maybe Thor, I guess that probably wouldn't have killed hi- Look that's not the point. The point is I couldn't stop it, I couldn't control myself. You of all people should know what I'm talking about. So take the damn arrows and if you feel like you need to use them you god damn use them. Now get out." By this point Tony was spun around in his chair facing the archer again, his knuckles were white from clutching the arm rest and the screwdriver he held in one hand. His face was completely serious; jaw set, eye's glaring daggers at the other man.

"Alright, you're right, okay? I'll keep them." Clint twiddled with the arrow in his hand and grabbed the quiver of them from the genius's desk, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Get some sleep, Stark, and eat something, will ya?" Barton gave a short wave over his head as he exited the room.

Once he was alone again, Tony had JARVIS lock the doors, and sat playing with the screwdriver between his fingers. He was exhausted and covered in the usual oil and grease. He needed a shower, and probably some food and sleep, too, but he was just so… worn out. He had to have like the world's largest to-do list, and no time to do anything on it. He had some armor repairs to do still, which honestly he probably should have done before the arrows if he weren't so paranoid that he was going to be kicked off the team.

God he really didn't want to be kicked off the team.

He let out a heavy sigh, and tossed the screwdriver onto his desk, putting his face in his hands. His head was starting to hurt from over thinking everything, and he just did not want to deal with a grumpy Captain America storming into his workshop, or worse, Natasha. After a moment of weighing his options, he settled for a nap.

He reluctantly stood from his chair, making his way over to his worn-down couch, a quietly whirring Dum-E not far behind. He lay down, not even bothering with pulling the blanket that draped over the back of the couch over his body. He relaxed a bit into against the cool leather as JARVIS dimmed the lights, and drifted off to sleep.