The response to Somebody's hero has been so staggeringly, overwhelmingly positive that apparently it's a series now. Go figure.

And also, people, I love getting alerts and favourites, but both are one-shots, complete, and I would love a few reviews, even if it's just to say "I like it".

"Any particular reason why you're reading that, Captain ?"

Steve's head jerked up and he glanced half-guiltily at Nick Fury. The director had paused in the doorframe and was eyeing the thick file spread out on the table thoughtfully.

"Um - it's not classified, is it?"

Fury stayed silent for a minute more, considering, then shrugged. "No, it's not." He crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair opposite Steve. "But you won't find what you're looking for there."

The unspoken question hung in the air between them.

"I –" Steve didn't know where to start. He swallowed. "There were some things he said – after, uh, after the kidnapping. Two days ago." He gestured at the numerous papers he had been rifling through. "I wanted to know if it really happened so much. And, well, I didn't think he was lying, but I couldn't quite believe it. But these – if anything, he probably downplayed it. And – " he gave Fury a slant-eyed glance. "I'm pretty sure this is the edited version."

Fury assessed him, gaze calculating and lips pursed, for a minute. He leaned back in his seat.

"I met Tony Stark for the first time when he was fourteen years old."

Steve blinked at the non-sequitur.

"Sir?"

"I'm pretty sure Stark doesn't remember it, seeing how he was drugged to the eyeballs. It was the longest time he'd ever gone off-radar – eleven days – and this time he'd actually been grabbed right off the MIT campus, so Howard had had me called in to help for the search. Big fat help it did him, because in the end Stark Junior got himself own all by his lonesome."

Howard. The name still made his heart jerk at random moments, like a twinge in an old wound.

"So there we were, in Howard's library, Howard, me, and Stark. Scraggly little thing he was, all elbows and knees and impossibly thin under that mop of hair, but he stood ramrod-straight. He'd just been checked out of the hospital – actually, he'd gotten there himself, walked out of the place they'd been holding him, located the nearest hospital and checked himself in. And then he called his father."

And yeah, Steve could totally picture that.

You need to let this go, it's not the first time it has happened and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last.

"Anyway, he had broken ribs and a sprained ankle, but he still held himself like he was at attention, during the entire time Howard talked to himself, going over the case. You see, the thing that puzzled us was that Howard had never been contacted. No demands for ransom, or plans, or technology. Radio silence."

Fury reached over and flipped over one of the pictures. Tony, age fourteen, all dark eyes and untamable hair, scowled up at Steve.

"Stark cleared that up for us. They wanted him. Not as leverage. They'd seen some of the things he'd come up with at MIT and wanted him to improve some of Howard's designs they already held."

Steve looked up, taken aback. How could Tony have reworked anything of Howard's? Designed something new, maybe – and despite the whole "genius" thing, Steve found it hard to believe that he could have surpassed his father before even graduating. Unless -

Fury nodded grimly.

"You can imagine how Howard took that. He laughed his head off at the idea someone could improve his designs. Until Stark told him that he could have, and pointed out a flaw in the weapon they had asked him to upgrade."

Steve drew a sharp breath. That could not have ended well. Unconsciously, his hands tightened on the photograph.

"Howard hit him so hard Stark fell over."

"What?" Steve jumped up. "He really-"

Fury held up a hand.

"Hold your horses, Captain. Tony Stark was not abused a child. As far as I know, that was the only occurrence Howard Stark ever raised a hand to his son. Despite his alcoholism issues, or his otherwise questionable parenting, I am aware of no other occasion he struck Tony, either before or after the incident. And I would know."

"You would?" Steve sank back down into his chair, rubbing his forehead. God. Howard. What had he been thinking.

"Of course. How often do you think we come across a fourteen-year-old who can outthink the world's prime weapons manufacturer? Even if it's his son. We kept tabs on him ever since he built his first weapons system."

The silence settled in for a while. Fury didn't attempt to break it, merely eyeing Steve from across the table. He was still trying to digest everything. What had happened to the man he knew?

"I just – I don't understand why he'd do that."

Fury snorted.

"No-one understands a Stark. Not even themselves. But-" he hesitated. "As to Howard, I think there's one thing I can explain."

He leaned forwards.

"The thing is, Rogers, I'm pretty sure Howard did care for his kid. No, don't argue, I worked with the man for thirty years, I did know him. He was fond of Stark, and he was proud of him, too. But he didn't really see him as a kid. He was his son, sure, he knew that, but I think that he never realized what being a kid meant. In a way, he was Howard's pet project. Howard had never been around many children, and with Stark being the way he was, prodigy and all, I think that in his mind he was just another person, an adult, one he was related to, but that he held to the same levels of expectation that he held everyone around him."

And Steve knew intimately just how high these levels were. And how Howard disregarded any excuses as to failure. He winced.

"And of course, genius or not, Stark was still a child. He didn't measure up to those expectations. You can see the relationship going to hell in a hand basket already. And I think – I think that when Stark pointed out that mistake, Howard didn't see his son anymore, or one of his coworkers. He just saw an extremely young person telling him that he was wrong, and I'm sure you know how well he took that kind of things."

Steve did. Several horrific incidents came to mind. But to turn that on a child – to turn that on his own son –

Fury broke him out of his thoughts again.

"The reason I'm telling you, Rogers, is I'm pretty sure that you won't find it in that file. And if you're trying to understand Stark? Don't. Better minds than yours have failed in that endeavor. Just accept that he's there, and that he rolls the way he does. Don't ever tell him I said that, but he's a strong man. He's a strong man, he's had a lot of shit thrown his way, and he's never let it hold him down. We could do worse."

Steve looked at the papers scattered on the table before him. Tony Stark. Strings of data. Reports. Photographs. Young Tony scowling at him. Tony smirking and toasting him with a champagne cup. The Iron Man armor. Tony with an arm in a sling, climbing down from a plane, sitting on the floor in a conference room. Tony working in the SHIELD lab with Bruce. None of these came close to who Tony Stark really was.

"Yeah." He said softly. "We really could."