UGH WHY IS EVERY CHAPTER SO MUCH FUN?

So many fun and painful things in this chapter.

Also...with this chapter in my original document, I HAVE OFFICIALLY BEATEN MY TWO-YEAR REIGNING RECORD OF 74K AND 304 PAGES! And I'm not even close to the end of this book!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Avengers movies, the Marvel franchise, or any of the characters. That all belongs to Marvel Studios. Everything to Marvel Studios. Any added dialogue, plots, or characters are mine, but nothing else. I don't own it.

Chapter Thirty-Five - To Kill A Nightmare

"Jarvis, daddy's home. Wake up." I snap my fingers in front of the screens in my workshop. They respond in flashes of blue and yellow. "It's a weekend day. Let's plan some party or whatever before Pete and I leave."

"Of course, sir."

I fiddle around with the virtual keyboard. "How about…tomorrow? Saturday? Eight."

"Right away, sir. Shall I cancel your date with Mrs. Potts?"

"Oh– right." I tap my chin with a pencil. "J, Do me a favor and move it to Sunday, will you?"

"Consider it done."

"Thanks, buddy." Pushing myself from the desk, I ride my swivel chair over to a separate computer and display the screen onto the empty wall nearby. Diagrams of medical-tech blink into existence, reminding me of Clint's ailing condition. Apparently, the arrow-slinging idiot had experienced a PTSD-like hallucination while training the same day Pete and I had interrogated Digg. "Nice job, Robin Hood– breaking your ribs again. Now I gotta make you another bandage." Flicking the diagrams to the other side of the room, I create a mental note to manufacture the bandage later today. "Jarvis, open up my calendar for the next couple days. What's going on?"

"Well, your date with Mrs. Potts takes place tomorrow night. The night after, you're attending– ."

"Leading."

"Leading…a party, sir. The only thing left on your schedule after that is your vacation to Oregon with Mr. Parker on Monday. Shall I inform you of anything else?"

Monday. "Jarvis, uh…"

"Yes?"

"Search the news from the past couple months– keyword: Toomes."

"Nothing found, sir."

I finger the armrest. Staying hidden. Interesting. "Okay, try– keyword: Vulture."

"Nothing found."

"Keyword: Digg. Or Wakandan."

"Again, no results."

A thundercloud passes over my thoughts. Dang it. How secluded can you be?

"Sir, lunch is ready downstairs."

I swivel around. "Lunch? Who made it?"

"Mr. Wilson and Mrs. Potts."

"Huh."

"The entire team is congregating and they wish for your presence."

"Why the entire team?"

"Unity is important, sir. They– ."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Okay, I'm heading down. Shut off the lights, Jarvis."

The lights dim as I saunter out of the room, taking my time to the kitchen. The murmurs of conversation grow louder with every step. As I walk into the room, an explosion of aromas and bustle almost has me running the other direction.

"Well, look who showed up." Pepper's voice tickles by my ear.

I jerk back, cursing. "Goodness, Pep… Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Calm down, Tony." Pepper smirks. "We're having shawarma."

"Again? We had it already."

"That was two weeks ago."

"Okay, what's going on, Pep?" I pull her into a corner. "This never happens. Are you setting this little lunch meeting up to tell me something?"

"I'm just trying to get us feeling like a team again, Tony. There's been a lot of tension recently."

"In me?"

"In everybody."

"Fine. But I'm not sitting at the table."

One minute later, I'm seated at the table in-between Scott and Bruce with a steaming plate of shawarma in front of me. Before picking up my utensils, I locate everyone at the table. Next to Bruce is Romanoff, then Clint. Beside Clint sits Maximoff and Vision has taken a spot next to Pepper. Pepper, of course, chose the spot across from me. On my left side, Rogers, Barnes, and Wilson are lined as the golden trio in that order from Pepper, leaving me with the halfwit right beside me. The one with the brain the size of an ant. He's the first one to speak up partway into the meal:

"So…are we supposed to talk about the favorite parts of our day or something?" He sticks a piece of meat and rice in his mouth. "I mean, I do it with Cassie."

Vision nods. "I believe that could serve for a beneficial purpose."

I stab my meat with a fork. "The favorite part of my day is anytime but now."

The question that Scott's put forth drifts through every member and by the time it gets back to me, most have finished their meals and we're left with a feeling of unity more broken than the hour before. Much like the shawarma side trip after the Battle of New York, silence becomes our only friend for the remainder of lunch.

Wow, Pep. Great idea.

I return to my workstation with a tingle of relief only to discover Fury scrolling through some files on my computer. "Hey, Nick."

The director doesn't even lift his head. "Hello, Stark."

"Got business here? Usually people need," I clear my throat, "permission to come in here."

Nick crosses his arms. "I don't need permission to do anything. I'm my own man, Stark."

"Yeah, right. Anyway, what're you doing here? And you're not just surfing the internet."

"Actually, I've come to ask your permission on something."

"Ah." I place a coffee cup on the desk nearby. "So it's the whole permission thing again?"

"Right."

"Okay, what it is?"

"I've got some vibranium shipments over at SHIELD and I was wondering if I could reenforce the main Quinjet at the compound with it. To protect those inside from outer threats."

My eyebrows twitch. "Vibranium, huh? Wow. Guess that stuff is getting easier to find. Why do you want to do it?"

"I told you. Protection. If the pilot's shot or killed in a mission, no one's there to get us out. Might as well protect those inside that need to get us outside. Usually fast."

"Debatable. What, is this an experiment? A test? You're gonna do this with all the Quinjets?"

"Just the one. For now. But if it works, I can promise you, Stark– we'll be a lot safer on board than we ever were after I'm done."

I bounce a ball off the ceiling. "Sure. Why not? Protection is protection."

Fury chuckles. "Dang right."

When I turn around again, he's gone. Job's done and he's ditching me. Perfect.

I hurl the bouncy ball onto a couch and activate numerous computers.

"Tony."

Steve's gravely voice pulls every muscle taunt like puppet strings.

"Tony, you forgot your glasses downstairs."

Beads of sweat gather on my forehead and one word shrieks in my brain: Leave. Leave. Leave. I swallow it down and force a different response. "Thanks, Cap."

"I'll put them on this desk."

Clink.

A couple footsteps piece the still atmosphere and I almost collapse into my swivel chair. He's gone… I whip around to retrieve the glasses. Steve's still there.

He folds his arms over his chest. "Tony."

"You know, life was a lot better a second ago. So if you could just scoot your star-spangled butt outta here, that'd be great." I swerve on my heel and shut off the computers I'd turned on a minute earlier.

"What was Nick here for?"

I sink my teeth into my tongue to place a barrier between my mouth and the language fighting to escape. "He wanted to know whether he could put vibranium stuff on the Quinjet."

"The main Quinjet? The one we always use?"

"Yeah. That one."

"Tony, are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"Why not?" I throw a scowl over my shoulder. "It's to protect people."

"And there are plenty of ways to do that, but I'm not comfortable with Nick doing anything of the sort. He's been pretty suspicious lately."

My blood heats up and pumps through my veins like rivers of lava. I whirl to face him. "What's so wrong with protecting people, Cap? What is it?"

"Nothing's– ."

"If we can't have a suit of armor around the world, we may as well have one around the pilot. Is that too much to ask?"

This shuts him up. Seeing that the old man hasn't any snarky comeback up his sleeve, I return to my station and highlight the diagram of Clint's tech-bandage. "J, get Dummy on fire safety. We might need to douse Rogers over here if he sets fire."

"Tony– ."

"Or maybe we should let him burn. How about that? That's a good idea."

"Tony."

"Jarvis, don't do what I said. It'll be fun to watch Rogers dance around in flames. Speaking of flames, I should warm up this room a bit." I lean down and shove a plug into the floor, which triggers a hologram halfway across the room. "What do you think, Jarvis? It gets too cold around here sometimes."

"Tony, I– !"

"All right, time to work on Clint's bandage. Legolas needs to stop breaking his ribs. It gives me– ."

Steve smashes his hands on the table. "Tony!"

I stop dead, tightening my jaw.

"Could you shut up and listen to me for one god-dang second?"

I focus on every breath in an attempt to calm those catching in my throat.

"Tony… I know you don't want me here, but I need to set things right."

"With what?" Each word weighs like lead in my dry mouth.

"With Siberia."

The following exhale deflates me like a starved balloon, taking with it my strength. I collapse into my swivel chair and rotate it away from Steve.

"Tony, please. I don't care whether or not we have a conversation, but just hear me out."

"Start talking then. Wake me when you're finished."

Heavy footfalls approach me and Steve passes so close that the updraft ruffles my hair. He settles himself against the wall and says nothing for a few moments. When he does, what exits from his righteous mouth pierces me harder than the missile's shrapnel.

"I'm so sorry, Tony."

I shake my head. "Too late for that, Cap."

"You didn't deserve it."

Heat boils under my skin, churning in a bloody cauldron of emotions.

Steve lifts his chin and stabs me with his baby sapphire eyes. "But neither did Bucky."

The cauldron bubbles over and I jerk to my feet, knocking a beer bottle from the counter. The shattered glass crunches under my shoes as I advance toward the captain. "Then what did I deserve, Rogers? Did I deserve the wounds you tore into my skin? Did I deserve to be beat up by the one I once trusted? Did I deserve the years and years I spent grieving over my mom?"

"Your father– ."

"Was a jerk." I close in, like a hunter to his catch. "A cold, calculating jerk. And so are you."

Steve withdraws. "We can't change what happened. Believe me, if I could go back and tell you before you found out like you did, I would. But I can't. And it's not able to be reversed. We can't settle this between us until you let go. I'm sorry about your parents. I really am. However, I'm done letting it tear us apart like this."

"You can't heal this one, Rogers."

"I want to try."

"You already did. And it didn't work. Bye, Cap."

I can sense Steve examining me. He doesn't move. Instead, he stands erect, motionless. A memory from Ultron's time comes spiraling to the surface, after Wanda had toyed with the Avengers' minds.

"If you wanna get some kip, now's a good time, cause we're still a few hours out."

I squint at the archer at the Quinjet's controls. "A few hours from…where?"

"A safe house."

I don't give myself time to wonder what Barton talks of as I pace around the Quinjet's circumference, assessing each member of the team.

Bruce, his sweaty frame wrapped in a blanket, rests against a cushion.

Sitting beside him on a chair is Romanoff, who's been staring into space ever since that Maximoff witch had gotten a hold of her. The spy's red curls droop over her eyes, which have been forever transfixed on something beyond any of us. Clint had been worried out his mind finding her in such a state.

Thor paces, wringing his hands in front of his armored chest.

Steve hunches on a bench off to the side. His dirty face shines with perspiration and his jaw clenches with such strength that I'm surprised he hasn't asked for toothache medication. For the first time since he'd boarded the Quinjet, Steve makes a slow, almost jerky, movement toward his pocket and pulls out an ancient compass. Despite my integrity, I can't help slipping into the shadows to observe the captain in his goal. Steve's trembling fingers flip open the antique. On the bottom circle is what was to be expected– the compass. But on the top side…a black and white image of a woman. One who's face reminds me of an image I'd seen years ago. P… Carter. Something Carter. Worked with my dad in SHIELD. M…Margaret! Margaret Carter!

I switch my attention back to the captain. In the dim lighting, Steve's eyes flood with tears, catching me off guard.

Movement from Steve in the real world yanks me from the recollection.

He pulls away from the wall and tromps past me. By the sound of his boots, he's nearing the door.

"Cap, you remember when I said 'I don't trust a guy without a dark side?' "

Silence.

"What about it?"

"I think I know what– or who– your dark side is." I spin around. "That woman in SHIELD. Margaret Carter."

Steve goes rigid.

"Ah. Hit a nerve, didn't I?"

Cap hits me with a steely glare. "Don't talk about her."

"I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about you." Dragging myself from my seat, I stomp toward Rogers. "While we're on the topic of what we deserved and what we didn't, let's address this. You. Everything."

Steve backs up. "Tony, please. We don't have to do this."

"You didn't deserve her. You never did. You were skinny and weak. Nothing's changed." I grab his collar. "With everybody you've hurt and broken and killed, are you worthy of her love? Oh, wait. She's dead." I shrug in mock nonchalance. "All of your strength, your grandeur… You protect people and fight your battles just to cover up how much of a liar you are."

Steve rips my hand from his shirt and hurries out of the room.

I press my weight against the windowsill, panting.

There we go. I found his dark side.

"So, Tony…" Pepper dabs her chin with a napkin. "How's been the tech for Clint?"

"I finished his second bandage yesterday. Bruce applied it. So as long as he doesn't break any more ribs, he should be fine in a couple days. It's stronger than the last one." I slurp the glass of scotch beside my plate.

"That's not attractive."

"What isn't?"

"Slurping."

"Hmm."

"It's established."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is."

Pepper calls for the waiter and orders an additional appetizer. When the waiter departs, she blinks at me, a frown etched into her soft features. "Okay, Tony. You need to tell me something."

"I tell you a lot of things. All the time."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"What did you say to Steve?"

The spoon freezes halfway to my lips. "What?"

"You heard me."

"We don't need to talk about that."

"But it's on you this time. Steve was just trying to set in motion something that you two started back in two-thousand-and-twelve."

"It's gone. Let's leave it at that."

"What did you say to him?"

I grumble under my breath. "How'd you know I had him running with his tail between his legs? Because he walked right up to you and told you so?"

"Yesterday evening, I was visiting all of the Avengers and checking up on them, writing down their events and all that to get the schedule all accounted for– ."

"You have a calendar for the Avengers now? Geez, Pep, calm down."

"Stop it. If you had forgotten, they live here. Anyway, I was coming up on Steve's quarters and guess how I found him?"

"Angry?"

"Quite the opposite. He was crying." Pepper pauses. "Well, he had been crying."

"Had he now?"

"Stop acting like you don't care. He was really hurt, Tony. And I know that he had come from your workshop because the last time I'd seen him, he'd talked about returning your glasses."

"Yeah, he returned 'em all right."

"To see him like that… It's not him. What did you say?" Pepper pushes every plate off to the side so the path to our eyes is unchallenged. "What heartstring did you pull?"

I rub my pointer finger on my temple. "Do you know the name Margaret Carter?"

"I've heard of it. Why?"

"She was the chick that Steve left behind when he turned himself into the human popsicle."

"So he loved her."

"Yeah."

"What did you say against her?"

With a great deal of reluctance, I explain the statements I had used against Rogers. By the end, Pepper's gaping at me.

"What?" I throw my hands in the air, matching her look with one of my own. "Why are you looking at me like that? What did I– ?"

"I know you're angry at him, but what if the roles were switched? What if, to save the world, you had to kill yourself and leave me behind to grieve? And then you woke up sixty-five years later to find out that I was alive, but had outlived the life we would've wanted together? How would you feel? You can never go back, mourning every day for the life you could never have. What if someone walked up to you and rubbed my death in your face? How would you feel?"

I swallow, all of a sudden finding it painful to do so. Great. Pep's making me feel bad. "Is that your goal? To make me guilty about this? Look, I was angry. I was hurt. I say a lot of stupid things when I'm like that."

"So you do admit it."

"What?"

"You feel bad about it."

"So what if I do?"

"Now it's your place to try and make things right. Make sure to talk to him before you and Peter leave. Talk to Steve."

I flinch.

"Maybe this is exactly the sort of situation that you needed. Something to turn you away from your blind anger about Siberia." Pepper entwines her fingers in mine. "Maybe…you and Steve have a better chance now. A chance to reconnect and to find the alliance that you two once had."

Not for the first time, the letter from the Civil War rattles off in my head.

"I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand."

"I'll be flying to Oregon, Pete." I open Mark-whatever's mask and buzz a few tweaks.

"So you're not taking a car?"

"Nope. I'll be flying. Same as you." To free up my hands, I mash the phone in-between my ear and my shoulder and stick a pen in my mouth. "You are taking a plane, right?"

"Yeah. It's a private jet for the class."

"Wow. Pretty snazzy." I confirm the suit good-as-new and toss the writing tool aside. "Okay, we'll be going after Vulture tonight. Late tonight."

"How late?"

"I don't know, kid. But if Vulture's there, we need to stop him before things get too serious. Maybe find out some more about HYDRA too."

"I hope so."

"Hold on, Pete." I wave my hand in the air. "Jarvis, change the call to my heads-up display."

"Right away, sir."

The suit cocoons around me and Peter's webcam appears in the corner of the screen. Convincing myself that multitasking is a valid option, I trudge out of the room. "So, you got your suit?"

"Are you in yours?"

"Yep. You got your Spidey tights?"

"I think so." Peter twirls a strand of hair. "You won't let me do any fighting or anything, right?"

"Right. It's my job to protect you."

"Yeah, I know."

Pete keeps talking as I exit the compound. I'm about to reply to Peter's recent school comment when I descry Steve on the lawn with Wilson, hurtling a football back and forth.

"Now it's your place to try and make things right. Make sure to talk to him before you and Peter leave. Talk to Steve."

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, uh… Sorry, Pete. I gotta go. End call." The teenager's face winks out and I brace myself, bridging the gap between Rogers and I way too quickly.

Wilson collects the ball and cocks his arm to send it toward Steve before noticing my presence.

Steve follows his friend's stare and performs a double take.

I wave and expect no response. I get none. "Hey, Cap. Pepper told me about– I mean– no. Remember what I was saying? Two days ago? I know I hurt you. I was angry. You know me. I do dumb things when I'm angry. And Friday was no different." I pop the hatch open to reveal my face. "So what I'm saying is– I'm not– You didn't– I shouldn't have– ." I plant a foot in the freshly-mown lawn. "Okay, look– What I'm really trying to say is…" My head throbs with the burden of my apology. "I'm sorry, Cap."

Steve's eyes sharpen like slivers of ice. Not a muscle twitches from the captain. "Too late for that, Tony."

A wave of cold washes over me. I char the ground beneath my feet as the energy from my repulsor stabilizers launch me upward.

I tried, didn't I? But who am I kidding? I don't care about him. I never have.

Pepper's determined account burns in my brain.

"Stop acting like you don't care. He was really hurt, Tony."

I twist my expression.

Dang it, Rogers. I do care.

But Siberia…

How do you learn to kill the nightmare?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: DANG I love Tony and Steve's dynamic. It's so much fun to explore. :D

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