Chapter 79 - Under Arrest

His legs were stiff. Maybe he had torn something during his heroic stunt at the courthouse. Maybe it was simply the cold from the iron cot that was seeping through his thin suit. It felt like he had been sitting on a block of ice for hours. His hands were still cuffed behind his back. Sure, he could have paced the small cell instead but Tony just couldn't bring himself to get to his feet.

He had made a right mess of things. Not like he had never been in this situation before. Cuffed in a cold basement somewhere at the mercy of people who would rather see him dead. It had been a while though and he had rarely gone this willingly.

There had not really been a point to fight anymore. Tony was semi-sure that Clarke wouldn't outright murder him after taking him into custody in front of about 150 witnesses, not counting the reporters outside the courthouse he had been marched by. That had been Clarke's first mistake. Despite how exposed Tony felt in front of those cameras without any glasses to shield him from the eager lenses, he held his head high, squinting at the reporters as he was dragged past them.

"Yes, take a good look, ladies and gentlemen," he bellowed towards the microphones. "This is what happens when the city puts a corrupt cop in charge of the department. The whole system rots and there is no due process. If they think they can push an unwarranted arrest through on me, just imagine what they can do to any one of you!"

Rough hands had pushed Tony into the back of a police van. Rogers had gone even less quietly than he had. He had been raving about his buddy's innocence, struggled when they had tried to lead him away. It had made quite the picture, likely even more impressive than the billionaire in cuffs. Four men at once had to drag Rogers with them, blood still trickling from the bullet holes the guards had left in him.

"Oh my god," one of the reporters called out, frantically pointing at Rogers. "They shot Captain America! Steve Rogers is being led away bleeding from his chest."

As the first responders had rushed into the room, nobody had made an effort to tend to Rogers. Trapped by a tight line of officers and armored guards, they were cut off from the rest of the courtroom including the medical team that was rushing to tend to people. Tony had no eyes for the civilian casualties. With a whole range of armed and thoroughly unhappy-looking security guards around them, he was more focused on avoiding any additional casualties, including himself. Rogers on the other hand was still busy watching over Barnes, ordering police and security not to lay a finger on him, it came down to Tony to at least try for some sense.

"He needs a medical professional to treat those bullet wounds!" Tony tried to make eye-contact with several officers. "Hey, Rogers is still bleeding. He needs medical attention!"

None of the guards seemed to care for his opinion though, happy instead to write their own attack headlines. For all he knew, Barnes was still lying on his back out cold on the marble of the courtroom floor. But as much as Rogers had fought to stay with his boyfriend, the cops were determined to get both him and Tony out of there, marched them right past the press. Tony would give it 5 minutes tops from the time they left that room before the first websites would come out with news alerts like:

Captain America shot at trial.

Super Soldier and war hero was refused medical attention at courthouse scene.

Police brutality: Does it have no limits?

All they would need would be a nudge in the right direction. It wouldn't even matter that they spent months hunting for clues on Rogers and his gang, they were in it for the spectacle and nobody knew how to deliver one quite like Tony did.

It honestly baffled him, how sloppy the cops handled the whole thing. Sure, Clarke had every reason to panic and lose his mind after Tony exposed him as the murderer he was. It wasn't even all that surprising that the officers Clarke was in charge of would be running around like headless chickens, following their leader's example.

What freaked Tony out a lot more was that there was no sign from Ross. Maybe that was a good thing. Ross distancing himself from this whole situation meant he was distancing himself from Clarke and that could only be a win for them, right?

That was the one positive thought Tony was clinging to as he sat in the back of the police van with an antsy Rogers. The courthouse was only a few blocks north of the NYPD headquarters. Thankfully not enough time for Rogers to reign himself in enough to start asking questions that Tony couldn't answer. Not with half a dozen cops in that cramped space with them. But by the time both of them were led down into the basement, even Rogers had fallen silent.

Tony recognized the hallway. It was the same one he had wandered down a couple of weeks ago when he had sought out Rogers. But unlike Rogers who was pushed through the door where his glass cage was waiting, Tony was dragged on, further into the depth of the building into a small, icy cell that held nothing but the iron cod he had been sitting on ever since.

For the first hour, he had called out for them, trying to provoke, demanding his phone call and his lawyer. They had stripped him off his watch and by that taken his gauntlet. His phone was gone too. Even if he would have had something on him, they were too deep underground for him to send a beacon to the outside world.

Plus, the outside world already knew where he was.

Time went by slowly. Despite the bright neon light above him and the chilly temperatures in his cell, Tony started to grow tired. The adrenaline that had pulsed through him at the courthouse had kept him alert and functioning, but the sleepless nights of the last weeks were officially wearing him down.

He rested his face in his hands, rubbing it from time to time, trying to keep his mind focused. Pepper would send their lawyer. She might be pissed - and Tony was certain that she was - but she wouldn't let him stew in that dungeon for longer than necessary. She couldn't chew him out while he was locked up after all.

Despite his personal vendetta, Clarke had nothing he could legally hold Tony for. There was no way he could prove that Tony had lied on the stand. Clarke would have to have evidence that Tony knew who had actually triggered Barnes and there was no way for him to know. As for the rest of Tony's accusation, there was even less of a chance that Clarke could touch him for any of it, mostly because Tony hadn't lied. While he might have hacked some of the information that had helped him connect the dots - like the ballistics report of Ben Parker's murder - he had been careful not to leave a trace.

All he had to do was keep his cool until Pepper would get him out of there.

His girl sure took her time though. Hours had to have gone by when there were finally footsteps echoing outside his cell door. A single set of feet. As the door swung open, it was neither Pepper nor their lawyer Brian who stared back at him.

The cop who stood at the other side of the door had to be the youngest and smallest they could find. The boy was positively shivering, his eyes wide as he stared at Tony, a shaky hand on the gun in its holster.

"Now, now..." Tony concentrated on deep breaths, keeping his voice level. "Let's not do anything hasty, champ." He would have raised his hands, trying his best to look non-threatening but they were still cuffed tightly behind his back. "Let's not do anything that neither of us can take back, alright?"

It wasn't just their youngest but apparently also their most skittish cop they had sent down to him. He was only a boy, completely overwhelmed standing opposite Tony. Either Clarke speculated that Tony might be stupid enough to try and overpower a boy-cop to free himself and possibly Rogers, or Clarke was banking on the kid to just lose his nerve and point-blank shoot Tony.

Neither of those was an option Tony was eager to go for. He wouldn't give Clarke any excuse to keep him locked up and he sure as hell wasn't going to give the little boy-cop any reason to shoot him in the back.

Accordingly, Tony moved slowly as officer Lobacz motioned for him to get up and out of the room but he kept up a low string of words, repeating over and over that he was held without charges. That the NYPD had to honor his constitutional rights. Lobacz was holding onto his bound hands behind his back, his own hands shaking harder than Tony's.

"All I want is my lawyer." Tony looked up at Lobacz as he cuffed him to a table in what looked like one of the headquarters' interrogation rooms from the 40s but Lobacz didn't meet his eyes. He left Tony there, sprinting from the room as soon as the cuffs were locked tightly. Once again, Tony was alone with his thoughts.

Not for long though. When the door opened, Tony wasn't surprised that it was in fact Clarke who strolled into the room. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. Red patches that were turning darker and darker were spread out across the left side of his face, a pattern that likely fit the grazed skin on Tony's right knuckles.

Tony made a point to straighten his back in his chair, chin held high. At the same time, he couldn't help but lean back as far as the cuffs that were tethering him to the table would allow.

"Tony, Tony, Tony..." Clarke pulled out the chair with so much put-on aloofness, it almost helped appease Tony's nerves.

Clarke was on edge. Of course, he was. His game was up. Tony had exposed him and now... would Clarke try to destroy the evidence once again? The person who was trying to blow up his entire life?

Pushing air in and out in carefully controlled breaths through his nose, Tony's eyes flickered to either side of them but there were only concrete walls. No windows, no mirrors that might have people watching through one-way glass.

It was just them.

"You did a really stupid little stunt back there, hm?" Clarke leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest. "How did you think this was going to go? Did you honestly think anyone would take you at your word?"

His mouth shut tightly, Tony tried his best not to respond, not to let Clarke get to him.

"You think this is going to help your little spider-boy?"

Tony's eyes wanted to fall shut to calm his racing heart.

Tsking at the idea, Clarke leaned forward, the cocky smugness on his face a mask, nothing more, Tony was sure of that. Clarke knew he was in trouble. He had to know. Whatever he wanted now, Tony wouldn't give in.

"Who do you think would take your word over mine? Ross? The press?" Clarke's fist slammed against the table and while it wasn't enough to make Tony jump, Clarke certainly got his undivided attention. "You think they'll believe you with all the stories I'll tell them? Weekend retreats at the Compound with a 13-year-old? Ha!" Clarke shook his head, his eyes dark and deadly. "You think once I have his DNA retested by a proper lab, the press will still sing your praises and buy your little stories? You think once I get May Parker out there in front of the cameras to tell them how much you were hogging that boy, how obsessed you were, they'll still believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth?"

All his threats meant nothing. May Parker would never play his game, not now. Tony was unable to keep his own eyes away from Clarke, incapable to keep his mouth shut any longer. "You murdered her husband, jackass. If you think you'll get anything but socked in the balls by that woman you need to quit whatever plastic pipe you're smoking and rejoin reality."

Both of Clarke's fists smashed into the tabletop and despite all his poise and bravado, Tony couldn't help but flinch back as far as the cuffs would allow. They cut uncomfortably into his skin, but he wouldn't stay an inch closer to Clarke than he had to.

"Shut your fucking face, Stark!" Clarke roared and hissed. "You will take your fucking stories back! You will take them back! Your stories and your lies!"

Tony's heart was pounding in his throat. He was entirely at this maniac's mercy, wouldn't even be able to defend himself tied down as he was if Clarke were to put his hands on him. But there was no way that Tony would give in now. "I didn't lie!"

The chair creaked as Clarke jumped to his feet. Within seconds, his hands were tangled in Tony's suit jacket. "You will put down a statement that you lied. That you made all this shit up to get the heat off your little friends." He pulled Tony a little closer to his face but there was nowhere for Tony to go, no way to free himself. "You will tell them you lied and when you're in prison for perjury, I might, I might decide to leave your little freak be if he keeps his head down like the obedient little dog he is!"

Tony tried to rise to his feet, tried to shake Clarke off but he couldn't get his feet underneath himself to even give it a shot. "The only one that will go to prison will be you!"

With a snarl, Clarke pushed Tony off with enough force to topple his chair. He couldn't fall though, the cuffs didn't allow that. Instead, Tony tangled off the table by his arms, groaning as he managed to at least get to his knees and relieve the pressure on his wrist. He jerked back as Clarke slammed a tape recorder down next to his head.

"You will do as I tell you," he growled.

Tony eyed the ancient device then squinted back at Clarke. "This is insulting on so many levels. Where did you get this thing? Your momma's basement?"

A shallow yelp escaped Tony as Clarke took him by the neck and pressed his head down against the table right next to the recorder. "You will say that you made all this shit up. You will make this right!"

Tony's head was buzzing with white noise. He had a burning desire to shut his eyes, hoping that might stop it, but he couldn't afford to let down his guard. Once again, Clarke pressed his head against the table with an unrelenting push that threatened to squeeze the life out of him, then let go entirely. Tony was still on his knees as Clarke brushed his hands off on the fancy uniform he was still wearing, then pressed the record button on the device.

"It is September 1st, 2016, 3:27 pm. State your name for the record."

The device was directly in his eye-line. The chair behind him had fallen over and there was no way for him to retrieve it. Gritting his teeth, Tony straightened himself slowly, still on his knees, trying to keep some of his dignity.

"Anthony Edward Stark." His voice was raspy, shaken just as much as his wobbly legs.

"State your testimony for the record."

It should have given Tony some amount of glee how much Clarke despised to show him a minimal amount of courtesy with the tape rolling, but he knew what was yet to come.

"I, Anthony Edward Stark, hereby swear that the testimony I gave in front of the court was entirely truthful. Daniel Clarke murder Benjamin Parker in cold blood on October the—" Tony grunted in pain as Clarke grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head back against the table.

"Is this how you want to play this, huh? This is how you want to play it?" His voice was rising with every word, ringing in Tony's skull. "Maybe I should explain what holding someone under counter-terrorism regulations means. You'll be here until you put this right, you hear me? You'll be here until—"

All of a sudden, the door was pushed open. Clarke spun around, ready to bark at whoever was disturbing him but clapped his jaw shut when he seemed to recognize Brian, Tony's lawyer, who rushed into the room. His hands fell off Tony in a hurry and Tony crashed back into to table below him.

"Clarke. We are done here." Brian's voice was hard, unwavering. Tony longed for the time when he too used to sound that sure of himself. "Mr. Stark..." Tony's eyes were swimming as Brian's footsteps echo off the naked concrete walls getting closer until he bent down close to him. "Tony," he whispered. "Good god, can you get up?"

"Still a little tied up here," Tony grunted, the cuffs rattling as he weakly pulled on the bracket, making the metal clank.

Clarke advanced on them, his left eye bloodshot from a vessel that must have just burst. "We're done when I say so!" His voice almost hysterical, "not a moment earlier!"

Brian didn't blink. No raised eyebrows, not retreating an inch even as Clarke's lackey Johnson shuffled into the room as well. It was the rattling of the keys Johnson pulled from his pocket that caught Tony's attention. With a firm hand on either side of Tony, Brian helped him unceremoniously to his feet.

"Johnson," Clarke barked. "I told you no interruptions!"

Johnson's eyes were glued to the floor as he muffled something that Tony didn't catch, possibly because of the swollen lip that decorated his face. Some of Tony's better work. But it turned out there was another reason for Johnson's poor form. As if the room wasn't crowded enough, three more officers pushed their way through the door.

One of them, a large fellow who looked vaguely familiar with about as many stars on his fancy jacket as Clarke, cleared his throat.

"Clarke." His eyes were narrowed but there was a sparkle of satisfaction that made Tony hold himself a little straighter, stretching his arms uncomfortably against the cuffs. "What the hell were you thinking?"

The look of utter confusion on Clarke's face was only second to the bruises forming on it. "Frank, you don't understand!"

"That's Commissioner to you," the officer snarled before be waved at Johnson to get a move on. "Mr. Stark, you are free to go." He inclined his head at Tony. "You have my apologies for the er... unpleasantries you experienced at the hands of this department, Sir."

The commissioner hastened Johnson along who had trouble with the cuffs, shaking hands repeatedly failing to push the key into the mechanisms' lock.

"Frank, listen to me. You're making a mistake," Clarke mumbled stepping closer to the commissioner. "Believe me, you will regret this if you—"

"Did you just threaten me, Clarke?" Commissioner Frank's eyes narrowed, teeth gritted. "You dare threaten the commissioner of the NYPD?"

"He's the threat!" Clarke screamed, pointing a finger at Tony. "He planned all of this! All of it! They are all in on it!"

But the commissioner - Reamington, his name-tag said, and yeah, that rang a bell for Tony - Reamington didn't seem impressed. His shoulders squarely blocking the exit, he kept his eyes on Clarke. "Daniel Clarke, you have embarrassed this fine department for the last time! You are under arrest for murder."

There was a beat of silence broken only by the click of the lock as the cuff's on Tony's hands sprung open. His heart was racing and as slowly as he dared, Tony retreated from the desk. His eyes shot over at Brian, who only dipped his head towards the door, urging him to leave. But Tony couldn't resist just standing there, rubbing his own wrists as Clarke was objecting, spitting and cursing, pointing at him.

"This is all Stark! He's lying for fuck's sake! It's not true! He made it all up trying to cover up what he did to his son! Because I know! He turned him into a freak! Gave him that suit! Made that poor kid his little spider soldier!"

The shade of red Clarke's face turned along with his bloodshot eye should have been comical, but the danger of the situation he was still in was too real for Tony to see the humor in any of this. It took everything in him not to argue his own side like he wanted to. He had to just let Clarke rave about Pete, keep his face solemn, looking beat up, hoping it would underline how far gone Clarke was, how mad.

Reamington didn't twitch though, didn't blink, staring Clarke down. "Johnson, cuff him!"

At last, the color was draining from Clarke's face. "Frank, you can't do this to me! This... they are creating a distraction! Stark, Rogers... all of them! They—"

"Johnson," Reamington barked, but when Johnson still didn't make a move, he beckoned the two officers forward that had entered the room with him. "Leroy, Hobez, I want cuffs on that man! And relieve him of his gun and badge."

"I don't even have my gun. Someone must have—" Clarke's mouth was still open, still moving but no words rolled off his lips.

"And what do you call this then, hm?" The commissioner took Clarke's weapon from Leroy and checked the bullets the clip still held. Lips pursed, he gripped it tightly and stepped around his officers who were struggling to lead Clarke away. He stretched his hand out for Tony to shake. "My apologies again, Mr. Stark. I assure you everything that happened today, everything Clarke has touched will be thoroughly investigated."

Tony tried to get a grip on his racing heart as he returned the firm handshake. "They had my 13-year-old kid cuffed while he was still bleeding from a bullet wound. Restrained even at the hospital." He was still holding Reamington's hand, putting all the anger he could summon into his face. "I care a lot more about consequences for how they treated my kid. Clarke as well as that one." He pointed at Johnson.

"You have my word, Mr. Stark," Reamington tried to assure him.

"Mr. Stark." Brian had placed a hand on Tony's back. He couldn't make it clearer. This was their cue to get the fuck out of there. "Commissioner Reamington has my contact details. He assured me that we can count on the department's full cooperation."

Tony gave a short nod, fighting to keep his eyes on the commissioner and not let them stray to Clarke who was led down the corridor outside kicking and raving. At another subtle push from Brian, Tony straightened himself a bit and made a point to button up his suit jacket despite the tremor in his hands.

"Commissioner." He inclined his head at Reamington, then pushed past him, Brian right behind Tony.

Quickly, like he had perfectly memorized the way through the interior labyrinth of the NYPD headquarter, Brian guided him in the opposite direction of where they had taken Clarke, hopefully towards the exit. The closer they got away from that interrogation room, from those cells in the basement, the harder it became for Tony to pull himself together.

"Brian, what—"

"Not here," Brian whispered just as sharp and quiet as Tony had.

Tony blew out an irritated breath through his teeth. He needed to know what was happening out there. He had been locked in that cell for hours, no inkling how the narrative of what happened at the courthouse had unfolded since they had taken him away. Instinctively, his hand went for the inside pocket of his suit, where he kept his glasses but came back empty.

"Fuck, they still have my—"

"Here..." Brian pulled a see-through evidence bag from his briefcase, balancing it awkwardly as he kept walking towards what Tony could only hope was the door to freedom.

Tony pulled his phone from the bag. It wandered back into his pocket. The glasses were next. They were large with darkly tinted glasses. He didn't bother to suppress the sigh of relief as he slid them onto his face. Lastly, his watch that contained the gauntlet. Something, he could only hope he wouldn't need to get out of there.

"Just tell me, Reamington..." Tony shot a glance over his shoulder but nobody was following them. "What's his deal?"

Brian, too, checked to make sure they weren't overheard. "Apparently, his son was trapped in a building during the erm... alien invasion thing. Rogers got him out."

"Oh..." Tony frowned, his thoughts circling back to Rogers who likely still sat in his glass cage in the basement.

"Plus..." Brian pulled on his arm and led him down a side corridor. "Reamington hates Clarke's guts."

"Well, that can't hurt." He balled his hands up, trying to ignore how his wrists still stung. "Rogers needs medical."

"There's a doctor with him right now."

"That... good. That's... good." Tony swallowed hard, no more distractions left that stood between the one question he yearned for and at the same time dreaded the most. "My family?"

"At the Compound." Brian didn't hesitate. That could only mean he had talked to Pepper. "Car is waiting for you."

After that, Brian motioned for him to be quiet and Tony complied. There were still things to discuss but that would have to wait. They couldn't risk being overheard, not when Clarke likely still had minions all over that place.

The flash of the cameras was blinding despite his glasses. It didn't help with the knot in his stomach. Neither did the deafening shouts from the reporters, screaming over each other. All of it was just mixed up into noise as Tony slipped into the backseat of the waiting car. Brian gave him a short nod and slammed the door shut. The silence that greeted him, the solitude had his skin prickle. It was overwhelming him so much that his eyes were burning with frustration or emotion, likely fatigue. He pressed them shut, pulled the glasses off, and rubbed both hands harshly across his face. His cheek stung and his right hand came back with a thin smear of blood. He dabbed his palm once again against his cheek. It came back with more blood.

Cursing, he pulled the end of his tie out from underneath his vest and pressed it against the cut on his face. His other hand went straight for his phone.

"Give me Pepper, FRI."

The phone rang once, twice, then: "Tony?"

"Hey, you okay?"

She huffed out a humorless laugh. "You're in the car then?"

His heart was beating in his throat. "Pep, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. We... we're all safe." Her voice was strained, sounded a little more tired than usual, most of all curt.

"I'll be there as fast as I can." He bit his lip waiting for a moment if Pepper would offer any more information on her own, then pressed his eyes shut and leaned heavily into the backseat. "You really not going to tell me how he is?"

For a moment, she was quiet, like she was contemplating not saying anything. "He's fine. We're both fine."

"Pep... please..."

"He's in his room. He..." She blew out another breath, this one far less brisk. "He just wants to be alone."

"I'm sorry." He pulled his tie away from his face. It didn't even matter that it stung. "I would have told you but there wasn't much time and—"

"We'll talk about it when you get here," she cut him off.

"Pep..."

"You knew this was going to happen and you just let us sit there!"

"I didn't know this was going to happen!" He swallowed hard, eyes on the street outside like that would erase the images from the courtroom that were still flickering in his memory. "And I asked you to leave, didn't I?"

"Two minutes before your testimony started," she hissed. "How long have you known about all this and didn't bother to tell me?"

Sitting up straight, his voice rose along with hers. "I only found out last night!"

"Then why didn't you tell me last night? Ross blackmailing you? Addy knew but I didn't? Clarke, he... he killed Ben Parker?"

"I was looking for a way to keep the kid safe."

"I thought we were supposed to be in this together?"

"I asked you to go, didn't I?" He pulled in a couple more deep breaths, desperate to keep his lit on. "I asked you to take him home!"

"Don't you dare put this on me! You should have told him!"

"I would have told him. This isn't how I wanted things to go!"

"Well, it's how things went, so now what do you want to do? You kept going on and on about how you want him to trust you, believe you and now you just lied to him like everyone else? What is he supposed to think now?"

"I don't...I didn't lie! I..." He let himself fall back into the seat, his hand covering his stinging eyes. He hadn't been very truthful either. "I don't know, okay?"

"Is it even true?" she asked, her voice still sharp. "Did Clarke really kill Ben Parker?"

"Of course it's true! I wouldn't lie about that! Least of all with the kid right there."

"Wouldn't you?"

Tony pressed his lips flat, drawing in deep breaths to keep himself somewhat calm.

"It wouldn't be the only detail you outright lied about up there."

"Pep..."

"They could put you in jail for that, Tony. What were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking, it should rather be me than my kid," Tony growled.

"You think Rogers will lie for you? He knows what happened! What if—"

"Pep, just take a breath, okay?"

"No, don't tell me to take a breath! This is not—"

"Pepper!" His voice was raised just enough to burn in his throat but at least it did work. It might not have calmed her much but gave him a chance to make her listen. "The only thing Rogers cares about is his boyfriend and I just did my damn best to make sure they didn't euthanize him in there."

Pepper was breathing fast, not hiding her agitation. "He's alive then?"

His hand dropped off his face and for the first time, he wondered if Pepper would have preferred the opposite. "Last I saw him."

There was silence between them, loaded with emotion. For a moment, Tony contemplated a detour to the Tower. His suit would get him to the Compound in about 7 minutes. He pressed his eyes shut, head dropping back against the seat.

"I'll be an hour." His hands were still shaking, his legs... as the adrenaline slowly faded from his system he wasn't entirely sure if he could hold himself upright by how much they felt like pudding. He needed that hour. "We'll talk when I get there."

"Fine," Pepper hissed. She hung up without another word.

Tony couldn't deny the painful squeeze his heart gave. He had known that this would be bad but he had no idea how to make any of it right.

"Give me a status update on the kid, FRI."

"Pete is in his room. He asked me to close the blinds and lock the door."

Tony covered his face with both hands muffling the curse he pressed out.

"The protocols currently in place do not allow me to bolt the door on his order. I have informed him about the situation every time he asked me to lock it."

"How..." Tony sighed. "How often did he ask."

"Five times so far."

"Right..." His eyes on the ceiling, Tony hadn't felt more like crying since he had stumbled on this mess in the first place. "Is he hurt?"

"My scans have detected no injuries, boss."

"Alright..." Once again, Tony rubbed a hand across his face and immediately cursed at the sting on his cheek.

An hour. An hour until he would be at the Compound. As he sat there, Manhattan, then Harlem, and Washington Heights rushed past his window before they crossed the Hudson. With every mile, his body seemed to deflate even more. It took all the energy he had left to keep his head in the game. As he pulled up the press reports on his phone, his mind positively refused to take in the words. All he could tell was, that they were in Rogers' favor, in his own favor. The great majority of them. This had been a victory then but at what cost?

He closed his eyes, the phone loosely in his hand, but he couldn't find rest either. Too much was still to do, too much for his mind to settle. He would rest when this was all done, not a moment earlier.

The driver pulled through the gates at the Compound, where the press was swarming his car only held back by the agent stationed there. Before the car had come to a halt, Tony had already unbuckled his seat belt, ready to jump back into action.

His legs were heavy but they carried him straight to his rooms. It wasn't until he stared at the door to where Pete had barricaded himself that fatigue and nerves crept back into his bones.

"FRI..." Tony rubbed a hand harshly across his face, the other clasping the doorknob. "Is the kid..." His eyes pressed shut he blew out a breath. "He awake?"

"Yes, Sir."

His grip on the doorknob got a little tighter, but he stopped himself from opening it. "You sure he's not hurt?"

"Positive, boss."

"Kid?" Tony cleared his throat, his voice a little elevated. Unsure what to do, he knocked the bruised knuckles of his other hand lightly against the wood of the door. "I just want to know if you're... okay."

There was only silence on the other side of the door.

"Buddy, I know you can hear me... I..." He grimaced at the sound of his own voice. "I know you're mad and I don't want to..." His hand dropped away from the doorknob. "FRI, give him clearance to lock the door if he still wants to do that."

There were only seconds that passed between his last word and the metallic clink of the door's mechanism locking it.

Tony nodded to himself, his eyes unfocused on the floor. "Alright..." His voice was low and he mumbled it more to himself than for the kid's sake. "For... for what it's worth," he said a little louder. "I know... I know this looks bad, okay? I know what you must be thinking right now, but I didn't know, not until last night. This isn't how I wanted you to find out. I just..." He shook his head. All the excuses in the world wouldn't make this better. "I'm here, buddy... when... when you're ready, okay?"

Tony pushed himself away from the door, his knees weak. As he turned he saw her across the room, her arms crossed in front of herself. The frown quickly faded from Pepper's features as she saw his face. Tony's pride would demand that he held off for a moment. That he would at least pretend that he still had some control left but he couldn't deny the pull Pepper had on him. His feet started to move without any explicit decision to do so on his part and her arms were open, waiting as he reached her. She pulled him close, her head cushioned in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Her arms around him, there was something comforting about how he could just fall apart right there because she was still with him, still held him together, not just physically. There was something comforting about the certainty that someone would be there to pick up the piece with him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Pep, I swear I didn't... I didn't want it to be like this... I... I was just..." He shook his head, keeping her wrapped in his arms. It didn't really matter what he had wanted to do. What he thought would happen. He could have at least tried to do this differently. If he had only told Pepper some of what he had found out, maybe she would have stayed at the Tower. She could have stopped Pete from leaving. Maybe he would have gotten his chance to sit the kid down and tell him like he should have.

Pepper swallowed hard, her lips pressed tightly together as she pushed herself just far enough off him to really look at him. There was the slash on his cheekbone from where his head had hit the witness stand. Her fingers traced the skin just underneath it.

"Let's take care of this, okay? Other than that you... you're okay? You didn't get hurt?"

Tony gave his head a shake just soft enough that her fingers never lost contact. Some bruises underneath his shirt maybe but those didn't matter. "I'm okay."

"No hidden bullet wounds this time?" She said it with a certain amount of humor in her voice that did nothing to mask the dead serious look in her eyes.

"No, no bullet wounds. Not on me." He grimaced deciding to be better safe than once again sorry. "Couple bruises maybe and, well..." He pulled the sleeves of his jacket back and revealed red rings that had formed around his wrists from the tight cuffs.

Pepper's fingers were careful and soft but Tony had his eyes only on her face. The way she frowned, leaned a little closer to inspect the spots where his skin had been rubbed away, leaving him raw, the turned his hand and take in the state of his knuckles too.

"I'm sorry, Pep," he whispered.

"I know that." Her eyes flickered up to meet his. Her head tilted, she had a sad attempt of a smile on her lips, eyebrows still knitted closely together. She brought his hands up and softly kissed him just next to his bruised knuckles. "He knows that too. Deep down."

"I just tried to—"

"You tried to be a damn hero is what you did Tony." She blew out a huff and dropped his hand just to intertwine her fingers with his.

"I just needed him to trust me for a few hours! I would have—"

"Honey, he doesn't even trust himself right now. His own memories and what he thought he knew to be true."

He took in the sadness on her face, the exhaustion and couldn't shake the thought that she knew more than she let on. "What did he say to you?"

She tilted her head to the other side, her eyebrows now raised. "Let's take care of those cuts, hm?"

"Pepper, come on, I—"

She shook her head. For a split second her eyes flickered to the door across from them, the one Pete had bolted shut. Without another word, she pulled Tony along, out of the room and towards the med wing.

###

[euthor's note:

First of all, thank you for reading and thank you even more, if you left a comment. I enjoy each and every one of them! I love reading your theories and frustrations and excitement with these characters!

Once again, a special thank you goes out to a href=" /users/spagbol99/pseuds/spagbol99" rel="nofollow"Spagbol99/a for enduring me rambling on and on about my writing choices.

I'm still posting sneak peeks to the next chapters on my Tumblr (MsHermia). So come and say Hi! if you like :)

I also created this little Pepperony video for this year's Valentine's Day gift exchange which I sadly can't link here but that too you can find as a pinned post on my tumblr.]