A/N: For anyone interested I do have a SHIELD one-shot called The Runway Mission if you want to check it out.

Disclaimer: If its got "quotation marks and it's bold" then it's a direct quote from Iron Man. Again, everything you recognize belongs to Disney.

Chapter 10 - Pieces of Me

"These tears you cry

Have come too late

Take back the lies

The hurt, the blame

And you will weep

When you face the end alone

You are lost

You can never go home"

- Gollum Song sung by Emiliana Torrini

PAIN. Agony like Tony has never known before rockets him into consciousness. It's dark and his mind feels shredded. He can't understand where he is, lost in flashes between the current torture and terrors of the past. There's a cacophony of sounds: scraping metal, guttural voices yelling, clanging instruments along with his own cries. They blend with the relentless suffering, leaving him disorientated. All he can feel is the knife slicing into his chest, a slow creep deeper, towards his heart, carving at him with an unyielding pitilessness. Tony knows he's begging. But the panic rips through him mercilessly, and he repeats the only thing he can manage.

"PLEASE! PLEASE!"

It's a desperate and weak plea, and he knows his father would hate him for making it. Howard would sneer and yell at just how pathetic he sounds.

But Tony can't manage to care just now.

He'd say anything, do anything, for even the barest hint of relief. He writhes and thrashes, wild and uncontrollable, but he can't seem to find any; nothing frees him from the misery as the cuts become deeper and more invasive.

Suddenly there's movement. They'd tied him down already, but now there's more yelling as human weight is added to his bonds. The loud ZZZZZZ! of a saw ratchets his terror up to new heights, and Tony's addled mind registers what's happening just in time to see the whirling metal come down on his already mutilated chest.

The world explodes. The crack of his bones, breaking under the blade's pressure is deafening. So loud he can't even hear his own screams, which have taken on a new octave. He's trapped in a whirlwind of pain, the cool of the metal adding a different layer of torment to the already over stimulated nerves. His heels scramble against the dirt slab and his back arches. His muscles lose any semblance of coordination as the shrieks tear through him.

The cloth that finally covers his mouth is such a relief he barely comprehends the chemical smell of it, is grateful for it in fact, as he finally, finally, slips into the waiting darkness.

*.*

He rises back to awareness only to find things infinitely, impossibly worse. The nightmare moving from the most depraved torture a sick mind could conjure, to actual hell.

This is Hell. Tony is sure of it.

And this time, he can't even scream as they continue to carve him up, this time from the inside out. His tormentors stand above him, unmoved by his wretched choking. The pain has long passed excruciating. His body is broken open, white ribs splayed, slicked red with blood, their violating hands now moving inside him, tearing at his eviscerated organs. His stomach clenches in horror as he watches. A high keening note blares ceaselessly through his skull, shaking him apart, while his mind is a blank scream of denial.

Please God let me die!

The desperate bid goes unheard and unanswered. He can't breathe. Maybe his lungs are too filled with blood. Maybe he'll drown and it will finally be over.

Please God let me die!

His body jerks helplessly, rending itself against the onslaught. He doesn't know how long he suffers. It seems to go on forever, a never-ending scourge of terror and horror and pain.

Eventually by some grace the black claims him once again, and he clings to it like a long lost friend.

*.*

He wakes, and sleeps, and wakes again.

Nothing makes much sense, except that he has begun to dread consciousness. Even after the initial torture has ended, the pain remains, surrounding him, a new feature of his wretched reality. It's so grating he can hardly breathe. Like someone's trying to rip his insides out through his skin. He wants to scream, but he's too exhausted, so he whimpers instead. A low keening sound that would be more natural coming from an animal than from a human.

Someone's there in the darkness with him, saying words that sound vaguely familiar, but that Tony can't seem to comprehend. A hand touches his head. He tries to bat it away, but instead of moving, his arms just twitch uselessly at his side, too weak to rise. Even that slight motion jars something and, despite it seeming impossible, the pain ratchets up three-fold. Tony chokes on it, wishing fervently for unconsciousness, for anything but the god-awful agony.

Someone must have heard him, because he loses time. He knows because the temperature has changed drastically. The pain is still there, only now it's almost overshadowed by the fire burning in his chest. He pants, hoping to gulp down some cool air. Maybe that will help put him out.

It doesn't.

He moans. There's a sound of movement, most likely the person from before and Tony tries to open his eyes, but everything is dark and blurry and he's just so hot. Can't they see he's burning alive, cooking to death in his own blood. He opens his mouth to beg for water, but it's just another choked moan that comes out. His back arches suddenly as his back spasms, leaving him gasping in agony.

The voice is speaking again, "You've...beat this...ark. Do...hea...me? Hang on…"

He wants to beg the voice for mercy. He wants to beg the voice to make it stop, but his lungs only work to torture him further, as if they were expanding on spikes.

Something shockingly cold and wet appears on his forehead, and the momentary cool is so relieving he groans again.

"Sleep, Stark. You n…t...sleep."

Tony doesn't know how he obeys, but somehow he does.

For a long time, he floats.

His brain is muddled in a deep fog, and his bones ache and shiver without asking. Something about the cold and the deep, earthy smell takes him back to a time he has no real memory of. An experience that shouldn't be there…

...It's cold and dark here, too, and Tony trembles helplessly. His head hurts, but he can't move. He doesn't know where he is and his heart aches because he desperately wants his mommy. But she's not here and she can't hear him when he calls for her. He begins to cry. Quietly at first, then louder and louder.

She doesn't come though.

Instead, some men in dirty clothes and masks come. They speak in a language he doesn't understand. He begs them to take him to his parents but their voices only get louder and their fists hurt against his arms and face. So he stays quiet and cries and tries to figure out what they want with his daddy. He knows his daddy's name is Howard Stark, and they repeat the name over and over, but he can't understand anything else.

"I'm hungry," he whispers hours later, when most of the men have gone. They left him tied up in a small, slatted metal box in the corner of the dark, cold room, but one man still sits by the door. The first time he doesn't respond to Tony, so he goes quiet again, until the grey tinge in the window becomes really bright. When he asks again the man yells something at him in the strange language. He can't understand the words, but he thinks that maybe the answer is no.

By the time the group of men come back the sunlight has disappeared from the window and Tony is woken up in darkness, shivering in the cold. They give him something then, something that looks like rice. It is not Tony's favorite but he is hungry and he takes it without complaint and eats. It fills him up, and he gets sleepy.

When he wakes, he is in a different room and sitting tied to a chair, ropes wrapped around his short legs and his chest, though his arms are free. He doesn't call out or make a sound and focuses on trying to wriggle out of the ropes, but they are tight and rub against his skin in a way that hurts really bad.

His progress is stopped when the door opens, and what he realizes now are bad men come into the room. They have a camera with them. He knows it's a camera because there is one like it in his daddy's workshop that he isn't supposed to go in; only his daddy's camera is bigger and nicer than this one. He wonders if his daddy is watching him at the other end. If so, will he come and get him and take him away from the scary place?

The men bring him a small device and make him hold it. He doesn't know what it is, but he likes e-ect-ton-ics and enjoys trying to figure out what it does. He hears the men talking, but since he can't understand he doesn't try and tunes them out as he explores the new toy. He's so enamored with it that he cries out in surprise and hurt, when it suddenly shocks him.

The metal drops to his lap where it hurts his leg before falling to the ground. The man closest to him picks it up and hands it back to him, but he is wary now and doesn't want to take it. The man insists, pushing it at him and Tony tentatively takes the device again, holding it by his little fingertips, away from his legs.

He waits, looking around at the room full of yelling angry men but when nothing happens he begins to pull the machine closer once more. He is back to exploring it when it shocks him again, making him yell this time and physically cast the device away from him. He is crying now, rubbing his sore fingers against his leg when a man picks it up and tries to hand it back to him.

This time Tony refuses. He doesn't want it. He hasn't figured out what it is, but he knows that it isn't pleasant and likes to shock him when he least expects it. He doesn't want to play with a toy like that. The men don't give him a choice though. Their insistence increases until they are yelling. Tony cries and cowers, afraid of the aggression but unwilling to pick up the toy.

His cries are cut short when a hand slaps his face. He nearly chokes on a hiccup, as he is slapped again and again in between intervals of yelling men gesturing at him with the device. When the slaps turn to punches and begin to hurt worse than the tingling reminder of shock in his fingers he takes the device.

The hits stop coming and Tony cries breathlessly, holding the device away from him so he doesn't get his snot and tears on it. He doesn't know if that will result in more hitting. He doesn't explore the device again but this time looks around the room. The camera is on him and he calls out for his daddy, who he is convinced is on the other end. He wants his daddy to come and save him and tells the camera so.

The shock comes again and Tony yells, prepared to throw it when a man grabs his arms with thick gloves and keeps his hand around the object. Tony releases his fingers anyway and lets it drop to the floor. He sees the punishment coming but is powerless to stop the attack. He thinks it goes on for a long time, but he can't be sure.

When they hold out the machine again Tony takes it. A few minutes later when it shocks him he holds it, teeth gritted and tears streaming down his now tender face. It continues like that until Tony can't hold it anymore. He knows he's going to be punished, but the first fist makes him see a bright light, and he can't remember the others.

When he wakes up he is sore all over and his stomach hurts. He is back in his metal box, and he decides he likes it there. The men don't seem to hurt him when he is locked inside. There is a bowl of rice waiting by his head. It is mixed with dirty water and has two bugs crawling in it, but Tony is hungry and he is not afraid of bugs, so he eats it.

The sun goes up and down two times before the men come back. He is awake this time to see when they take him to the room, dragging him painfully by his left arm when he fails to keep up with their long legs and stumbles on the cold, sharp floor.

He cries quietly as they strap him to the chair again. The camera is set back up and there are several men talking into what Tony can now see is a phone. They talk for a long time. So long he gets sleepy. He is woken up when a voice gets too loud, too close.

When he opens his eyes there is a man holding out a box to him. He is wary of the box, but he knows that wood doesn't shock people like metal can and so he takes it. It is heavy and there is something that wriggles around inside, but Tony can barely see it through the little holes. He rests it on his lap and continues to examine it as the men talk. He decides that it is a snake. Tony likes animals, so he's not afraid, just confused.

He is in the chair for a long time, the angry voices rising and falling until one man storms over to Tony and smashes through the box on his lap. Tony screams in surprise and pain as several splinters embed themselves into his leg and sharp pieces cut his hands that were still holding it. He's so focused on the pain of the splinters that he doesn't register that the snake is now out and slithering about his arms on his lap.

The men are yelling and pointing to him and he looks up in confusion, tempted to try calling through the camera again for his daddy. The bite comes unexpectedly and Tony screams then, loud and high as the snake he wasn't afraid of before rears back and bites him again. He tries to push the snake off of his lap but it is tangled around his arms, and he screams each time the snack snaps forward and sinks its fangs into his skin.

He's out of breath and shaking by the time he manages to untangle the snake and eject it from his body. He begins to cry for his mommy then, because he is hurting and bleeding and she isn't there to rock him and give him a hug. Then to his dismay he watches a man pick the snake up and by the tail and bring it back to him, but Tony refuses to grab it. He will take the hands and fists to his face and arms all day before he has to feel the sharp sting of the snake's teeth again.

The bad men don't like it though, and a pair of hands from behind him yank on his hair, pulling his neck back so far that it hurts. Strong dirty fingers pry into his little mouth and pulls it open while the man holding the snake by the tail gets closer.

He begins to squirm in terror. If the snake bites hurt on the outside he can't imagine how they would feel in his mouth or in his tummy. He doesn't want them to put the snake in there, but his struggles are futile and he can't get away as they get closer and closer.

A man with a phone stops the two before the snake is close enough to bite Tony's lip, but Tony is tired and terrified and hurting; the position the man is holding his head in makes it hard to breath, and he decides it'd be better to be asleep when they put the snake in him, so he let's the dizziness take him.

An explosion wakes him up. The man who sits outside of his metal box is napping on the floor, though Tony can see that he is hurt somewhere by the pool of blood that surrounds him. Tony stays where he is and can hear voices shouting down the hallways getting closer. The door is open, and he thinks about maybe trying to get away, but the metal box is cold and dark and no one hurts him when he's in the box so he stays there.

When the shouts finally reach the room he looks up to find men in uniform. These are not the men who have been hurting him. Their faces are blurry, but he notices the little flags on their clothing that his daddy told him to look for. It means the men work for daddy, and he sees a flash of the eagle on their shoulders. Does that mean they will take him home? He doesn't fight when they pick him up, though silent tears run down his face as his bruised body is jostled.

They take him out of the building where he can still hear explosions and gunfire and put him into a big truck. One of the uniformed men tries to hand him a container, but Tony is a fast learner, and he doesn't take it. He knows whatever is in the container will hurt him. He braces for the familiar punishment at his refusal and squints his eyes open when it doesn't come. They ask him a lot of questions that he doesn't want to answer. Days of not speaking have made him quieter and more cautious, though he does work up the courage to ask one of his own.

"Are you taking me to my daddy?"

"Yea Tony...we're taking you to your dad."

The one who answers him is also the one who held out the container. He opens it and brings it to his mouth to drink. Tony's head goes dizzy at the sight; he can tell by the liquid that spills out the side of the man's mouth that it is water. He is terribly thirsty, but he decides not to risk it. Now that he knows they are taking him to his daddy, he will wait to eat and drink there, where he knows what they give him wont hurt. Instead, he lays his head down and closes his eyes and drifts away.

It's a long time before Tony wakes and feels like he is in his right mind, like he's not actively dying. When he does, his eyes shoot open in surprise at the half-formed memory plowing through his veins. It couldn't have been real, could it? He should've been too little to have memories, barely three years old. Except the faint scars on his legs and arms that his mother told him were freckles, echo the truth he is trying hard to deny.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to process the possibility of having been kidnapped as a kid, a toddler, because he has to deal with his current situation. Pulling the feeding line out of his nose is unpleasant, but after the hell he'd been in before, it's like a slap on the wrist.

It doesn't take long for Tony to catch up, though there's something deeply disturbing about seeing the result of what he'd lived through. The metal in his chest is heavy and invasive. He tries not to remember the sound of his ribs cracking open, his pieces of sternum being sawed off and removed, to fit the crude device.

The man who'd saved him is named Yinsen, and his description of Tony's current situation is depressingly bleak. He's been captured by terrorists and there are who knows how many tiny metal shards just waiting to shred his heart to pieces. Tony's a quick study though and accepts the thought of being hooked up to a car battery as a necessity to keep him alive. At least for now.

His kidnappers arrive much sooner than he'd like. He refuses their demands, because what else can he do. He's not a monster. A flash memory of hands and fists makes him swallow hard, but he manages not to whimper when they grab him. They shove him hard and he stumbles, clutching desperately to the heavy battery that is his life line, bracing himself as they yank him from the room.

He knows that whatever's coming is nothing good. They are yelling loudly, angry and aggressive, but he doesn't know what they're saying. The foreign language is familiar, harsh and grating, and it makes his head spin. It's all he can do to keep his feet under him.

Belatedly, Tony wonders if he shouldn't have been so blatant with his refusal. Should've eased into maybe. He's taken through a maze of tunnels and into another dark cavern. The voices rise louder, barking orders and he's shoved to his knees.

He's not prepared for being waterboarded.

Before he can comprehend what's happening there's a large tin of filthy water shoved in front of him, and a rough hand fists in his hair, ramming him down, face-first into the dark water.

It's shockingly cold. So cold, he almost inhales before he remembers to hold his breath. Not that it matters anyway. They keep him submerged far longer than he can withstand. Until his lungs don't just ache, they scream for air.

He struggles violently, desperately, still clutching the battery. His fingers convulse instinctually, nails scraping against the hard casing, but their hold on him is ruthless, the grip on his head punishing. The wires spark in response to the splashes he's making, and they crackle as his mutilated chest burns and he screams futilely.

Water fills his lungs, making them spasm with pain, as the burning in his chest throat and brain mimic the hellfire from earlier, the water dripping onto the housing unit adding a unique level of anguish.

The lack of oxygen makes him see things, flashes really. The explosion that led him here. Ronan's sick smile as he holds Tony down. His father's hands around his neck. His mother's body lying broken and lifeless. The burn of electricity on his fingers. Jarvis in his deathbed. The quick jab of a snake bite.

There is no making sense of them.

Just when he thinks he's really about to die, they pull him out. He comes up sputtering and choking in a frenzied attempt for just one gulp of air; but he barely gets half a breath before he's back in the water, cries strangled into silence as the cycle repeats over and over and over again.

By the time they bring him outside he's already decided that he's going to die here.

Tony's not going to give them what they want and they're going to kill him for it. He's all but accepted that fact, when he sees the stockpile of his weapons and his stomach drops. This isn't what he'd wanted. This is not what Starks should be known for. For all Howard's flaws, the one thing he'd always done well was make sure that name stood for something good, something to be proud of. People respected him for that and Tony had longed, even after his father's death, to live up to the legacy left Howard him. That was why even with his partying and sleeping around, he made sure he gave people the best products, ones that were reliable, innovative and smart enough to prevent collateral damage. In some ways, he's still trying to make his father proud.

What would Howard say if he could see this now?

Suddenly death is not an option. Tony has to fix this, and he's got to live to do it. That means plan B. Pretend to cooperate and find some way to stop them.

In the end Tony is immensely grateful for Yinsen, though he can hardly believe it, especially given the sickening memories of the operation.

But it was Yinsen that nursed him back to health in the aftermath. The memories are vague and blurry, but he recalls a cold compress on his fevered brow and whispered words of encouragement. Every time he'd woken up, Yinsen had been there, caring for him.

It is Yinsin who reminds him that he can't go out like this. He can't just lie down and die, not with his work in the hands of those murderers. Even while knowing he'll probably be dead in a week anyway, Yinsen just responds with, "Then, this is a very important week for you."

That had been the kick in the ass he needed, the inspiration for everything that came next. However, in the end, what he's the most grateful for is the hope and the company his companion provides in those long, dark months together, cocooned deep within the Earth. Over time Yinsen becomes more than a cell mate, he becomes a counselor and friend. He gives Tony something to focus on and fight for, a reason to walk out of that hellhole alive.

With Yinsen's help, he actually works at developing a miniaturized arc reactor capable of keeping his heart ticking. Once the arc reactor is finished and has replaced the car battery, Tony gets serious, but it's easy to lose momentum and he finds that it is Yinsen who continues to fuel his drive. He works diligently, flushing out his plan, the image of protective cold metal surrounding him, a haven that beckons in some deep, unknown part of his mind and is thus echoed in his design.

They say that sometimes trauma bonds people. Tony had never thought much about that before. He'd always been alone in his pain, but with Yinsen he realizes just how true it really is. Especially, when the leader of their captor pays them a visit, unhappy with their progress. He can't understand what they are saying or why they force Yinsen to his knees. He does, however, understand the sizzling coal held between metal prongs getting closer and closer to the man's face.

He barely knows Tony, but is willing to endure torture for him?

The hissing of the coal mimics a different hissing, and for a moment Tony sees the snake dangling above his own head, mouth stretched open.

Yinsen had warned Tony, many times, never to engage them unless absolutely necessary, but Tony can't handle it. He can't watch them do that. He steps in and to his everlasting relief, their captors relent. The event solidifies something between the two men. Something unnamed, but indisputably recognized by them both. It is a strange thing, knowing that someone would give up their life for him. Even stranger is knowing, without a doubt, that he would do the same. It is something he has no experience with, but that he finds unbelievably precious.

And so Tony had been sure that if necessary, it would've been him to make the sacrifice. That was the plan, after all. He'd go out in front and clear the way, distract them if necessary while Yinsen escaped. The man had a family. That's how it should have gone.

But Yinsen doesn't keep to the plan.

"We need more time," the older man declares, looking in dismay at the terribly slow progress bar.

He says it like a revelation, like he knows exactly what to do next. "Hey," he turns to look at the engineer, eyes hardened in determination. "I'm gonna go buy you some time."

His stomach drops as Yinsen crosses the room to grab one of the fallen terrorists' guns.

"Stick to the plan," Tony yells, but Yinsen ignores him. "Stick to the plan! Yinsen!" For a moment he struggles, trying to will his friend back, but Tony is trapped, the armor is too heavy to move on his own, and Yinsen has gone down the passageway without so much as a glance back.

The waiting is its own form of torture, and Tony's heart pounds loud and distracting as he wills the computer to load faster, damnit!

When he can finally move, Tony makes quick work of their assailants, dispatching them as swiftly as he can. He even makes a show of it in hopes he can draw the majority of their fire, and doesn't take time to check to see if they're down for good. As long as their incapacitated, he moves on, always scanning and alert. He's just taken out another group and rounded the final corner leading to the entrance when his eyes catch the white shirt and a flash of the round glasses.

His heart contracts painfully when he finally sees the man he's looking for, lying wounded and bloodied on a large pile of sandbags.

"Yinsen!" he calls, not caring if the fear has found its way into his voice.

"Watch out!" Yinsen shouts, and Tony turns just in time to see the head of this entire operation, the one responsible for holding them here, lift a rocket launcher and shoot straight for him.

The suit has a bit of a delayed response time, but somehow Tony manages to dodge to one side just in time. The rocket explodes in a ball of orange fire mere inches from his head, but Tony doesn't have time for that. He's got to get Yinsen out of here.

No more playing around, he decides, selecting one of the few rockets of his own and shooting it at the man. It doesn't hit square on, but the resulting explosion is enough to throw their assailant and dislodge enough rocks that he stays down.

Tony barely notices. All his focus is on the man responsible for saving him a dozen different ways in the past month. He lifts the mask so he can get a good look at him. Yinsen's face is drawn with pain, his complexion chalky. The amount of blood is alarming, warning Tony of what is about to happen, but he forcefully pushes the knowledge aside.

"Come on, we gotta go," he urges, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. "Move for me. We got a plan. We're gonna stick to it." It's really more of a plea than a command, and Tony tries to infuse as much encouragement as the older man had given him in times previous.

"This was always the plan, Stark," Yinsen answers quietly.

"Come on," Tony repeats, trying not to sound desperate. "You're gonna go see your family. Get up." He tries to convey the rest with his eyes, I'm not leaving without you. And he's prepared to be stubborn about it if necessary. Though it'd be far from ideal, Tony is more than ready to throw the man over his shoulder and carry him out of this god-forsaken place if he has to.

Yinsen must get the message because he gives a little sigh, and just for a second Tony thinks that he means to gather himself, that there's still a chance they can fight their way out of here together. But his next words take that fantasy and smash it into tiny little pieces.

"My family's dead."

Tony's eyes widen in shock. No, that couldn't be right. He'd spoken so fondly of them. He was fighting to get out just for the chance of seeing them again. It was why he'd held on. It—it didn't make sense.

"I'm going to see them now," Yinsen clarifies, eyes begging him to understand. Begging him to accept it.

Tony's own eyes fill with tears as realization finally sets it. This was always Yinsen's plan. How stupid he must have been, believing he was going to save him, that he would play the bait allowing the older man to get away. Yinsen always knew he would die, but he stuck around to save Tony's worthless ass anyway.

A heavy weight settles in his lungs, and for a long moment he can't speak.

"It's okay," Yinsen whispers, breath weakening. Even dying, he's still offering Tony comfort. "I want this. I want this."

And that's it. There will be no more arguments. Tony knows, after all, what it means to desperately want to follow those you love down to the grave, to finally find that last bit of peace. It's not something he can begrudge his friend, and it's not something he can stop. So, he does the only thing he can do, though it's horribly inadequate and far, far too late.

"Thank you," he says with all the sincerity in his heart, "for saving me." The in more ways than one remains unspoken, but he's sure Yinsen hears it nonetheless.

"Don't waste it," Yinsen instructs. "Don't waste your life."

Those are his final words.

The doctor takes two more breaths, and then he's gone. A swell of anger and regret seizes Tony as he watches his unlikely friend slip away, to the place that all his loved ones go. To the place he can never seem to reach.

The rest of the escape is a blind, mad rampage to the finish line. But something in him died with Yinsen back in that cave. Yet another piece of him, now shriveled and silent. And he wonders just how many more until there's nothing left. How many more until he's completely and utterly empty inside?