Chapter Twenty-Three: Unexpected Visitors

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At this point, Tony wasn't entirely sure whether he was being hugged or held captive. He had come downstairs after getting dressed again just in time for Clint to rush through the front door. The archer had closed in on him in three large steps and wrapped his arms around him.

Clint had yet to let go and Tony was pretty sure several minutes had passed.

"Um," said Tony, giving the man's shoulder a tentative pat.

That seemed to do the trick because Clint immediately pulled back, words already pouring from his mouth. "Are you kidding me?" he demanded. "You have got to be kidding me! I was gone a week––one week––and you go and get yourself kidnapped? In broad daylight?! Come on! And before I even get the chance to come save you, you're already back and I don't get to kick anybody's ass.

"What happened?" Clint continued in sign language, expression drawn with concern. "Are you okay? You know Nat is going to tie your ass to a chair or something, right? Isn't Happy supposed to be your bodyguard? Why do neither of you idiots take him into places?"

"I'm fine, Clint," Tony said, hands moving placatingly, "I'm sorry I worried you for nothing."

"For nothing? So you weren't in any danger?" the blond's brow creased skeptically.

"Well, I was, but I handled it."

"You shouldn't have had to handle it!" exclaimed Clint, throwing his hands up in the air. "You shouldn't be handling anything––you're supposed to be staying safe!"

"I'm supposed to be staying safe? What about you?" the brunet demanded.

"Me? I haven't been kidnapped twice in the last five months!"

"No, but how many injuries have you had? How many of those were concussions? You can't exactly get after me for not taking care of myself when you're an accident waiting to happen."

"I'm a spy. Danger kinda comes with the territory," the archer drawled. "But you––you shouldn't be getting into danger in the first place. You're a freaking genius hacker who body-doubles for a billionaire."

"I'm a weapon!" Tony snapped.

Clint drew up at that, giving him a hard look. "No, you are not ," he declared, his tone almost angry. "That may have been what the assholes that raised you wanted you to be, but you decided you were more than that. You chose to be a person."

Teeth clenching together, Tony diverted his gaze. The archer reached out to clasp a hand over the join between his neck and shoulder. Exerting gentle pressure, the man gave him the slightest shake.

"You are Tony , and you are the smartest, bravest, strongest man that I know. You know that, right?"

"What if I'm not, entirely?" Tony asked, voice rasping in his suddenly dry throat.

Clint's other hand came up to take Tony's opposite shoulder, tilting him a bit to get him to meet his gaze. "Why would you say something like that? What happened today? Talk to me, Tones." The blond held his gaze for a long moment until Tony felt any resistance within him recede.

"I'd prefer to just tell the story once, if it's all the same to you," Tony sighed, shoulders slumping. "And that way Arno won't think he's successfully eavesdropping from around the corner."

The billionaire peeked from behind the wall with a sheepish smile. "I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but you have got uncannily good hearing," Arno said.

"Yeah," Tony murmured with a faint grimace. Because he really did have better than average hearing, didn't he? Odd how that seemed more obvious to him now.

They made their way into the living room together. At some point while Tony had been in the shower, Rhodey and Natasha had arrived. The redhead shot Tony a look that was equal parts admonishing, concerned, and relieved––though, he was sure no one besides maybe Clint was able to glean all of that from the assessing gaze she swept over him. Contritely, Tony took a seat on the sofa next to her and the assassin immediately tucked her bare feet underneath his thigh as Clint plopped down on his other side.

Food turned out to be the first order of business. Tony hadn't realized how hungry he really was until he started in on the plate Pepper had foisted upon him. They ate together in relative quiet, taking turns exchanging the occasional bit of small talk.

It was nice. Tony wondered how he'd ever lived without such camaraderie. He wondered what he'd do if he ever lost it.

Eventually, everyone was finished eating and the leftovers and plates were cleared away. There was really little reason for Tony to put off explaining what had happened. Except how much should he tell all of them? He felt that they deserved to know the truth, to know what he was capable of… that there were times that he wasn't in control. At the same time, he worried what they might think of him once they knew.

Tony feared they would look at him differently.

"There was a team of Hydra agents waiting in the restaurant," he finally began. "There were four of them inside and another three waiting in a van out back. I don't know how they knew I would be there. Maybe I've become too predictable or they saw Happy driving me there and got lucky, but they were there and they were armed. They made it clear that if I didn't go with them, they were willing to hurt everyone else in the restaurant, and I––the Huang's teenage daughter was working the register. I couldn't risk it."

"You did the right thing, Tones," Rhodey assured him while Clint bumped his shoulder. He gave a pained smile in response.

"They drove me to a warehouse on the far side of the city. Led me to a back room, two stayed to guard the door of the building, another two right outside the room. Two to guard me," Tony reported even as he was still deciding how to explain things. "Their leader had a… a book."

"A book?" Arno echoed, brow furrowing.

Tony pressed his thumb into his left palm. "A… an asset manual. With notes and instructions. A command sequence."

Natasha had straightened in her seat, understanding more about his background than the others. Her hand came to rest lightly on his forearm. A gentle pressure from her fingers made Tony turn his head to look at her. Most probably wouldn't have found much in the solemn line of her mouth or the calm directness of her gaze, nor in the subtle incline of her head. Granted, most hadn't known her long enough to recognize the manner in which she expressed herself when she wasn't putting on an act. For that matter, most hadn't been similarly trained to conceal their emotions (even though Tony had never been particularly successful at it). Tony wasn't most, of course, so he understood perfectly well.

"A command sequence for what?" Rhodey asked. "Some sort of weapon?"

Next to him, Arno looked grim, the video footage and their earlier conversation helping him to fill in some of the blanks. Pepper looked worried again, blue eyes sweeping over him as though in search of hidden injury.

"Hydra has had hundreds of assets, as you might expect," Tony said, "tools and weapons. Those that they've acquired, others that they've made… some that used to be people."

"Stop that!" Clint snapped, turning to stare at him furiously, hands clenched against the cushion of the sofa. "I already told you––you're not a weapon! So, cut it out."

"You're wrong! He just––he read a list of words out of a book and I just… I don't even remember them doing that to me, but he read those words and I was just––I was gone. I wasn't me. One minute, I'm held captive, and the next, I'm back here wearing clothes I can't remember putting on, covered in blood. Something was in control during that time. Since it wasn't me, what do you propose it was?"

"You're talking about brainwashing," Rhodey exclaimed. "Like the Manchurian Candidate? You mean to tell us a top secret organization of bad guys know how to mind control people?"

"Tony, are you sure that's the reason you don't remember?" Pepper asked tentatively, brow creased with worry. "It's not that I doubt what you experienced, but it's not uncommon for people to forget traumatic events. And after everything you've been through in your life…"

She really wasn't trying to deny his claim. Tony could easily recognize that. The words were spoken hopefully, almost desperately. It wasn't that Pepper doubted what he'd said. It was simply that she didn't want for there to be yet another thing he had to endure.

"I'm sure," Tony spoke softly. "Arno has video proof from a previous time."

Rhodey shot his best friend a look. "Seriously, man?" He probably shared Tony's opinion on Arno allowing a known danger into his home.

Tony continued before Arno or anyone else could reply. "Even without that, after today, I would have known. There's… They've done it before. Hydra's most dangerous weapon is a man they control with a command sequence, but he's different. Or I guess, I'm different. Don't know why."

"You said before that they wipe his memories, right?" Clint spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at the archer. Tony had nearly forgotten about the incident Clint had to help him out of a few years ago.

"That's right," he agreed.

"Well, wouldn't that be the difference?" the blond suggested. "You said that Hydra decided to use you in the lab, building and improving stuff. Seems to me that if their primary method of controlling a person is getting rid of their memories, they couldn't really do that to you without risking the loss of your intellect."

"That would actually make sense. It could be that getting rid of or repressing the memory is required in order for the programming to work correctly," said Arno.

"But then, how did he remember how to get back here after he escaped?" Rhodey asked.

"The programming's faulty, or at least incomplete," the billionaire responded. "Perhaps they can't coexist. Either the memory or the programming is in control while the other is suppressed. What do you think, T?"

Tony shook his head. "I don't know. They never explained anything to me that they didn't want me to know. I didn't even know I had control words until they were being read out loud."

"What we need is more information," Arno declared. "What are the odds we could get our hands on that book you mentioned?"

"Um," Tony murmured, tensing in his seat. Nat's hand tightened on his arm in response and Clint turned to look at him. "Yeah, uh, that would be… good," he hedged.

"You have the book." Natasha was the one to say it, although she likely wasn't the only one thinking it. To be fair, Tony's reaction to the question hadn't been the most subtle.

He ducked his head. "Yes. Apparently, I had it tucked in the back of my pants when I returned."

"That's good, then. We could scan the pages and have JARV––" Arno began, but Tony cut him off.

"No!"

The others looked surprised by the sharpness of his tone. He tried again.

"No, I just… I want to look at it first, myself," he said. "It's not that–– I just think I should be the first to try to figure out what was done to me. I deserve that."

"Of course, you do, Tony," said Pepper, shooting Arno a warning look.

"Yeah, man. It's your life. Just know we're here for you if you need anything," Rhodey added.

"I know," Tony told them gratefully. "I'll let you know how you can help."

"Be sure you do," said Arno. The others voiced their agreement.

#

Tony spent most of the next several days down in the workshop. He worked on one project or another until he dozed off at a desk or on the sofa or even in one of Arno's cars. At no point did he so much as consider taking the book out from under his mattress.

The first day, Arno was down there with him. After that he had had to leave on a business trip and Pepper had gone as well.

Sometime on the third day, Natasha had returned to drag Tony upstairs long enough to eat a proper meal and shower. She was gone again the next day, having to head out on a mission for SHIELD. She didn't go without an admonishment for him to take better care of himself. They both knew he would translate the order loosely.

It was by day six (or was it seven?) that Tony started to believe that maybe he'd been holed up in the basement a little too long. Not only was JARVIS issuing routine reminders that humans required rest and sustenance, but U had proceeded to cover him with a blanket any time he was still for any length of time while DUM-E and Butterfingers had surrounded him with various smoothies and snack items. Perhaps a break was in order.

"Alright," he finally conceded, eyes burning with fatigue. "You guys win."

Saving what he was working on, Tony pushed back from the desk and headed for the door. With a mumbled good night to the bots, he exited the workshop and trudged up the stairs. Although sleep in an actual bed sounded wonderful, his growling stomach suggested food should come first.

"Hey, J? What have we got to eat?" he asked as he reached the top of the stairs.

There was no answer.

"JARVIS?" Tony called warily, suddenly fully alert, senses straining. A faint sound from the living room drew his attention. On silent feet, Tony moved that direction, edging around the corner until he spotted the man staring out the windows into the night beyond. He relaxed marginally, zipping up the sweatshirt he was wearing to hide the glow of the arc reactor before stepping out into the room.

The man saw his reflection in the glass immediately, glancing up at it before turning around to face him. "There you are," he declared. "I knew you'd have to come up for air eventually."

"You disabled my AI. That's the last time you do that," Tony informed him in his best Arno Stark tone. "What are you doing in my house?"

"I thought it was high time you and I met one another. The name is––"

"Nick Fury. Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," the brunet cut the man off smoothly. "If you wanted to meet, you could have made an appointment with my PA."

Fury smirked at him, his one eye glittering with amusement. He walked closer to where Tony still stood at the other end of the room. "Somehow, I doubt that. See, I also happen to know a bit about you, as well."

"Well, considering how often I end up in the news and tabloids, it'd be a little disappointing if you didn't."

"No, no, you misunderstand," Fury shook his head. He stopped walking when he was still halfway across the room. "I know a little bit about you . Hank West, wasn't it? Or was it Aleksandr Petrov? How about Thomas Whittle? Or maybe I should just call you the Mechanic."

Tony had straightened, every muscle in his body ready for action, though it remained to be seen whether that would be flight or fight. "What do you want?"

Fury extended his arms down by his sides to show that he was unarmed. It was an ineffective ploy, as Tony could readily identify several places to hide a weapon in and under the heavy trench coat the man wore.

"I just want to talk," Fury declared.

Holding the man's gaze, Tony walked down the steps into the living room. "Then talk."

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To be continued...