Chapter Twenty-Six | Jeremy Kyle?

Tony

He had his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on the table as he tried holding back an anxiety attack. Or tears. Either way, the guilt was eating him from the inside.

Tony locked himself in his lab as soon as Sam and Steve left to find Barnes. To find the man that murdered his parents, the likely cause of Alaina Gunley going missing. He brought down a bottle of whiskey to drink away his feelings, but no matter how many times Tony fell down that hole, it never made him feel better. It made him angry, bitter towards everyone around him. To Steve for hiding the cause of his parents' deaths from him, to Pepper because she left him, and Bruce for being too god damn supportive and nice to him. And she was probably never coming back.

All because Tony fucked up.

Al... God, she wasn't what Tony expected, not one bit. He was ready to see a broken shell of a woman ruined by her experience with war, someone constantly on guard and didn't trust anyone, but she was the complete opposite. Right away, she treated everybody like a friend. She wasn't deterred by Tony's status one bit, didn't let it affect the way they talked and didn't ask him any uncomfortable questions about his suit. Instead, she asked about the man underneath. Not Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but Tony Stark: the man without the wealth.

When she defended him against Stone, he was pissed off beyond belief. Pissed that she could hurt his reputation and pissed that she could get herself in a lot of trouble for it, but when he yelled at her - when this woman yelled at him - it clicked. It resonated that she didn't do it to hurt him, but she did it to hurt Stone and to have Tony's back. There was no selfish motive behind it, and that was crazy to him. He only met her once before and sure, he got her a new job, but she did it with no ulterior motive in mind.

Alaina was a kind person. End of.

So why the hell didn't Tony do anything as soon as he heard she was in trouble?

Just one order to Jarvis, asking him to assemble The Avengers, and she would be safe.

She could be dead because of him.

Grabbing the neck of the half-full whiskey bottle, Tony threw it against the wall in rage, letting out a frustrated scream when the glass shattered into a thousand pieces.

Why was he such a fuck up?

In the midst of his thoughts, Rhodey had walked into the lab after a quiet recommendation from Jarvis to check in on him. Tony didn't hear him enter, didn't see him step over the broken bottle, or feel him take a seat next to him until a hand was placed on his shoulder. Tony jumped at the unexpected contact but kept his head where it was, hanging between his shoulders.

"Honeybun?" his life-long friend asked quietly. Life-long friends, just like Sam and Al. If Sam did to Rhodey what Tony did to her, he would blast him off the roof of The Tower without hesitation. Sam deserved to kill him. "How much have you been drinking?"

Tony shrugged a shoulder, hiding his quivering lip in the crook of his elbow.

"Pepper's on her way back from Malibu," Rhodey informed. "She wants to see you, okay? To help you. She doesn't want me to tell you this, but she forgave you a long time ago, Tones. She never hated you."

He didn't want Pepper to forgive him, he wanted Pepper to hate him until the day he died. She died because of him. He watched her fall into the fire, watched her scream his name before she burned to death.

Tony didn't feel the tears run down his cheeks. He didn't know that sobs were beginning to wrack his body until Rhodey wrapped an arm around him.

He turned into the hug, hiding his face in his friend's shoulder, and cried.


Later on, with Rhodey's help, Tony sobered up by drinking copious amounts of water and having an ice-cold shower. He still felt the lingering sense of doubt, the guilt of Alaina's absence, but it was with a clear head, at least.

Now, he was donned in his armour, faceplate down, sat on the table in the meeting room as he waited for the rest of the team to arrive, with Rhodey on his left, also wearing his War Machine armour. He knew Sam and Steve were searching for Bucky - they hadn't updated him on their situation yet - Natasha went out to search Billy Russo's apartment and Frank Castle's house with Wanda, so they would be gone for a few more hours, and Thor travelled back to Asgard in case it was Loki-related - it wouldn't have been the first time the trickster pulled something like this - so that left Tony, Clint, Vision and Rhodey to do the rest.

Vision came in through the floor which shouldn't have been much of a surprise, but it still freaked Tony the hell out, and Clint appeared not too long later, wearing his suit with his bow and arrow in hand, quiver strapped to his back.

"What's the plan?" Clint asked first, for once, acting seriously.

"Jarvis has a lead," Tony began. "Nothing solid, at least not until the others get back with more to work on, but there was suspicious activity. A bunch of cars turned up at an abandoned factory in Pennsylvania around the time Gunley went missing and left about an hour later. No CCTV inside, but we might get something from another angle. Or a clue." He turned to Vision, who wore a look of worry on his android face. "You stay at the Tower with J, work together to find anything on her whereabouts. We'll call if we need you."

"Of course." Vision nodded, clasping his hands together.

"Good. Then let's get going."


Alaina

She woke up for the second time that day with her heart in her throat, hands shaking like crazy. It felt like the air around her was cold, but she couldn't physically feel the cold.

Just like in the warehouse, she was restrained to another chair, but instead of a rickety wooden chair that could break with one hit, she was attached to a metal chair with belt-like buckles restricting movement in her wrists and ankles. However, she was in a completely different area; built like an interrogation room with the metal table in the centre and a one-way mirror where someone was likely watching her. Or even people.

Alaina looked down at herself and realised her normal clothes were gone, replaced by some thin white top which sleeves' went down to her elbows, and a matching pair of white leggings.

That's when she noticed the other things attached to her. Two thick cables wrapped around her chest, one above and one below her breast, a pulse monitor wrapped around her thumb, and a needle injected in the crook of her elbow, pushing some clear liquid inside her body.

And then she saw the machine on the table.

She was about to do a polygraph. A lie detector test, just like she did before joining Cerebus.

On cue, the door swung open and in stepped two unfamiliar men. One was old, small and skinny, with thinning white hair and clothes that looked far too big for his frame, while the other was the opposite. A burly man, a guard of some kind, wearing full body armour, a heavy gun settled in his gloved hands. He had a large scar running up the side of his throat, to his jaw, cheek, and then ended on his temple. It didn't look fresh, but judging by the rawness of it, it wasn't old.

"Miss Gunley," the smaller man greeted with a nod, shutting the door behind him. The guard stood by the door, eyeing the restrained woman like he was some wild animal. "My name is Doctor Mitchell." A pretty European name, and he had a slight accent. It wasn't British or anything Al recognised, but it definitely wasn't American. "We won't be here for long. This is just standard procedure."

She didn't respond, keeping her lips pressed together as she surveyed the man. He was favouring his left leg as he walked to the chair opposite Al's, and his eyebrows pulled together in a wince as he lowered himself onto the seat.

"I've been informed that you already know what this is, so I won't explain it," Mitchell continued, nodding to the machine, oblivious to the woman as she studied him. "However, I'm sure your curious about the needle." No shit, jackass. "It will help relax your senses, so the chances of you tricking the polygraph is even slimmer." As if she could cheat it, regardless. "So, we'll get right into it." He pressed something in front of him, a button on the polygraph, and placed a piece of paper on the table in front of him. At this angle, and because the machine was covering her view, she couldn't see what was written. Probably the questions. "First, we'll start simple. What's your name?"

"Where am I?"

Mitchell looked up when she asked, not shocked, but as though he was expecting it. "Someone else will give you that information," he answered briefly. "Now, I'll repeat the question. What is your name?"

She wanted to press, to pick a fight so badly, but she didn't know what she was dealing with, what was on the other side of that door, so she answered. "Alaina Gunley."

"Correct," Mitchell hummed, jotting something down on the paper with a black pen. "Question 2. Do you have a close relationship with any of The Avengers?"

Her mouth dried up at the reminder of the team, of Sam. Were they looking for her? Of course, they were going to search for her, Sam would murder them all overwise.

"Yes," she replied coolly.

"Correct." He wrote something down again. The responses, most likely. "Have you ever risked your life for any of The Avengers?"

For Sam? Too many damn times.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, were you part of Cerebus Squad?"

Alaina almost did a double-take. Did they want information about Cerebus as well as The Avengers?

"Yes," she told him with a crease between her eyebrows.

"Did you stay in contact with anyone after leaving Cerebus?" Mitchell asked.

"Yes."

"Do these people include Frank Castle and Billy Russo?"

Al frowned then. Why just Frank and Billy in particular? Curt was still alive, as well as Gunner Henderson, and although Gunner's locked himself away for years, he's still a person of key interest. They were all big parts of the Squad. "Yes," she said.

"That was inconclusive," Mitchell told her. "I'll rephrase: Did you stay in contact with Frank Castle after leaving Cerebus?"

"I..." Al tightened her jaw. "Briefly."

The doctor nodded. "And did you stay in contact with Billy Russo after leaving Cerebus?"

"Yes."

"That's better," he murmured and wrote a few lines of something on the sheet. "Next question. Do you believe that, during your time in the army, before Cerebus, you were a better soldier than Sam Wilson?"

Alaina scoffed amusedly, her lips turning up at the corners despite herself. "No," she replied.

Mitchell ignored her reaction. "Now, would you sacrifice yourself for Sam Wilson?"

"Yes."

"No hesitation," he commented. "How honourable of you, Miss Gunley. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that this is the final question, although we will be doing this every week until orders change." Did she just hear every week? God, she was going to be here a while, wasn't she? Al hoped that Stark's tech was as good as he boasted about it to be. "Last question. Do you think you deserve to live?"

Psychoanalysis, much? She had a degree in the course, for god's sake, but even then, a toddler would be able to notice that they were trying to get inside her head.

"Yeah," she answered honestly. "I do."

"Hm." Mitchell nodded, staring at the machine with a hint of something in his eyes. Al couldn't tell what it was, but she didn't like it. "Adrian," the guard stood in the corner, Al somehow forgot about him, in all honesty, straightened, "take her back to her cell."

The guard - Adrian - nodded and moved forward to her chair, holding the gun in one hand so he could take out the needle. She held back a grimace when it caught on the edge of her skin, cutting open the small hole where the needle entered and blood trickled over her elbow, nudging the edge of her white sleeve, and focused on her surroundings.

The doctor was already gone, out of the room in a flash, and the door was shut. The machine, if she picked it up to whack the guard over his head, would slow her down, and she didn't want to be slow in front of a man holding a gun, so that wasn't an option. Stabbing him with the needle would be ineffective, it would hardly slow him down, and she guessed that the other weapons on his person would be secured and out of sight.

And then she got an idea as he removed the cables from her chest.

It was hard to wait. Alaina's fingers were itching to move into action, but she had to be patient.

He leaned down to undo the buckles around her feet first and then moved onto her wrists. He released the final buckle and gestured with his gun for Al to stand, so she did, and waited until he adjusted his gun to grab a pair of handcuffs before making a move.

With a quickness she didn't know she possessed, Al kicked the gun out Adrian's grasp, giving her room to rip the cable from its plug, and she latched herself on his back. Wrapping the thick cable around his throat, she used it as leverage to lean back, making him stumble into the one-way mirror behind them. She had her legs constricting his chest, leaving his arms trapped by his sides and gun useless on the floor, and her fists tightened on each end of the cable, pulling back as hard as she could so he couldn't escape.

Men barged into the room immediately, guns aimed in her direction, but she knew they wouldn't shoot with one of their men in the way. None moved closer to them. They were keeping their distance.

"Release him at once, Gunley!" one of them ordered harshly. It was Tiberius Stone, she realised, still wearing his tacky suit, but he had a frightened, angry look on his face that made her heart swell with joy.

"Where am I?" she bit out between clenched teeth, eyes darting between each man. There was about a dozen altogether, huddled in the small room. Adrian struggled beneath her, hands coming up to grip the cable, but she was stronger than him. "Tell me where Frank is, where Billy is, answer my question, and I'll let go."

Stone's chest was heaving and his fists were clenched, turning white at the knuckles. "Bring him in."

Her grip faltered with a new, familiar face stepped through. It was enough for Adrian to let go of the cable around his neck, reach up, and slam his fist across Al's temple. She went sprawling on the floor but she couldn't feel the impact, the pain, not when his face was staring down at her, eyes wide, mouth gaping like he was going to say something.

"Frank?" she whispered.


Author's Note: Don't do this if you ever take a polygraph test, FYI. You will get arrested by the FBI (I'm a fucking poet, bitch).

Yeah, this is kind of a turn around from the cute fluffy romance you were expecting, right? Natasha POV next, so look forward to that. Hint: it's full of angst. This story is going to be full of angst for a while, don't hate me.

Also if you have never watched The Jeremy Kyle Show, what are you doing? He is my God and everything I aspire to be as a Brit (yeah, I'm British by the way, if you haven't already noticed).

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and tell me what you thought!