Sorry for the wait, but I got busy during Christmas break, and I was sick a few days ago, so that left me not feeling like updating.

But 100 reviews and 102 followers?! You guys spoil me. I'll try to update again over the weekend as a thank you to all you epic readers. (No promises though. I'm still feeling kind of awful.)

If Tony wanted to be completely honest, he didn't know what to think about Romanoff...Romanova. No, it was Natasha...Natalia? Great, now his head hurt.

Then you had how he hadn't been recommended for the Avengers Initiative, but Fury talked to him like he was a part of it. Maybe since he was such good friends with the others, the man figured he could tag along for now? Tony didn't know.

Now, here he was on the drive home after dropping Pepper off at her place, trying his best to focus on the road and not all the confusing things in his life.

Upon arriving at the manor, he burst through the door, tossing his jacket onto a hook and immediately rushing down the stairs into his workshop. It was his turn to do some hacking. (What was with everyone thinking they could use his tech anyway?)

"Okay, Miss Romanoff," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what we can find on you."

It had occurred to him that he could just ask Natasha about her past. But where was the fun in that? Besides, chances were she wouldn't tell him in the first place.

Figuring the school was a bad choice since it had been hacked twice (by amateurs, at that), Tony decided to delve into the NYPD database. After all, if this 'Red Room Gang' was something Natasha was uncomfortable about, that probably meant it was bad. And if it was bad, if it was some sort of criminal group, the police would have experience with it.

"I just need to make sure to not get arrested," Tony said aloud, smirking wryly. "Though I don't think it would surprise anyone."

It didn't take long to hack in (he'd have to have a word with the police about their security without letting them know what he'd done). His eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the files.

"Bank robbery? Boring. Jail break? Boring. Borrringgg!" he finished in a singsong voice before he finally found what he wanted. "Red Room Gang. Highly classified. What have you been up to, you naughty girl?"

Tony double clicked on the file to enlarge it. Starting at the top of the page, his eyes scanned the page as he read aloud, "The Red Room Gang is a cunning group with a dangerous criminal background. Their primary goal is to take what they want when they want it, even if it means going to extreme measures."

Extreme measures? Like death? "Jeez, Nat. No wonder you didn't want us knowing."

Concentrating on the text again, he continued to read. "All of them seem to have martial arts skills, as well as deadly accuracy with weapons. They aren't easy to interrogate, for they know how to turn it around and get information out of the interrogator. Their cool, deceptive demeanor makes it hard to get a read on them."

Tony snorted at that. "Sounds like Natasha all right. Not that I can criticize considering my own emotional barriers." He rolled his eyes at himself. "Wow, Stark. 'Emotional barriers.' Smooth."

He sat back for a moment, arms crossed. He knew that he should probably be mad like Barton and Rogers, but he found that he couldn't be. Maybe he'd never gone to the dark side as far as murder, but he'd most definitely done...questionable things in his life. And if he'd had a change of heart (like it seemed Natasha had), he wouldn't want others knowing about something as terrible as the Red Room Gang. In fact, he was almost kind of mad at Clint and Steve. They hadn't even given Natasha a moment to explain, let alone give her a chance to redeem herself. Maybe he could give Cap a good talking to tomorrow.

"That's right," he groaned. "I have to get up at an inhuman hour."

He was about to get up and go to bed when more of the file caught his eye. "Wait, what's this?

"The most deadly of the Gang is the one known as Natalia Romanova. She's ruthless and refuses to let anyone or anything get in her way. She only seems to be around sixteen, but she looks much older, and she uses that to her advantage by luring in men and gleaning information from them. She usually...kills them...afterwards..." Tony trailed off, feeling his eyes widen. Okay, that was pretty intense. He should be mad at her now, right?

He shook his head, turning off the computer and getting to his feet. She'd done dreadful things, yes. Had she enjoyed them? He sincerely doubted it. He found that he trusted her. And if she was recommended for the Avengers Initiative, she couldn't be all bad, right?

"You'd still better have a pretty good explanation though, Romanoff," he muttered to himself, making his way back up the stairs. "You definitely have some convincing to do by Barton and Cap."

"What did you say?"

Tony froze in his tracks at the new voice as he was about to head down the hall. Slowly turning around, he put on a smile. "Hey, Dad. You're up late."

Howard's voice was low and eerily calm as he studied his nails. "Cap, huh? And just how would you know Captain America? After all, he died seventy years ago. Or did he?"

"Look, Dad," Tony started, feeling his heart thump against his ribcage. No one could strike up his sense of terror like Howard Stark. "I meant to tell you, but-"

"How long have you known about this?" Howard interrupted, looking up with dark eyes at his son. "How long have you known about Steve being alive?"

Tony was silent for several moments, his lips pursed. When Howard barked a "well?" at him, he flinched as if the word was a harsh slap. "Almost a year," he said finally, his voice barely audible.

"A year," Howard repeated, his voice still low. "A year!" he said again, his voice suddenly loud.

Even though he could practically feel his knees shaking, Tony held his chin high and nodded. "Yeah. We're good friends, too."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Howard demanded, taking large steps across the room. Tony didn't shrink away when the punches and slaps started. "You ungrateful,"
slap, "piece," thud, "of," slap, "crap!" thud.

Tony stumbled back, cupping one hand around his nose as he felt blood squeeze though the cracks in his fingers. The other hand was resting against his abdomen. "Steve wouldn't want this," he said firmly, lifting a defiant gaze, even as he felt as if he would collapse at any moment.

"Don't talk to me about Steve!" Howard spat. "You don't know a single thing about Steve. The only thing you need to know is that he would make a much better son than you."

The words stung more than any of the beatings ever had. They hurt enough to knock the breath out of Tony for a moment. His Dad hated him, yes, but he'd never told Tony that he was an awful son.

Something snapped inside of Tony at that moment. Something that had been worn thin enough as it was. "See, this is exactly why I didn't tell you about Cap!" he screamed at Howard. "Because you'd become an even worse dad than you already are! What happened to the man that used to tell me Captain America stories and then kiss me goodnight? What happened to the man that let me stay up late with him in his workshop inventing things? What happened to him? What happened during my captivity in Afghanistan that changed you so much?"

Saying the words out loud gave Tony a realization of sorts. Howard had changed shortly after Afghanistan. He'd become distant, cold, and abusive. It had Tony missing the old Howard, and as much as he wanted to hate his dad, he found that he couldn't.

That was why when Howard raised his fist to strike another blow, Tony squared his shoulders and looked his dad in the eye. "Go ahead. Hit me as much as you want. I just want you to know that I don't hate you. And I'm waiting for the day when you decide that you don't hate me. I'm waiting for my dad to come back."

Howard looked at his son for a moment, his hand frozen in the air. Tony wanted to believe that the brief glint in his father's eyes was sorrow and regret, but it was impossible to tell, for Howard was letting out a growl through clenched teeth. Without another word, he whirled on his heel and left, leaving Tony alone.

Tony stood there for a moment, his breath rattling in and out. He was pretty sure one or more of his ribs was bruised. He sank to his knees, refusing to think that the lump in his throat could possibly be tears. Starks didn't cry. He didn't cry. Why would he? He didn't hate his father, but he definitely didn't love him. No way. That was impossible. You couldn't love someone that cruel. Tony reserved his love for a very special few. Those very special few that he actually trusted. It was the kind of love he felt toward Pepper, or maybe his mother. Howard didn't fall into that category.

So why did his heart feel like it had shattered?

I meant to make this longer than it is, but Howard and Tony's fight was better being short and intense. At least I think it was intense. Let me know what you think.