A short while later, J.A.R.V.I.S. was announcing Martha's arrival as she stepped off the elevator into the penthouse. She was dressed in such a way that she could have just as easily been ready for a night in as for a night out, so Tony wasn't completely sure if he had interrupted her plans. As she took in her surroundings, he heard utter a quiet 'wow.'
"Yea, it's alright," Tony said while beckoning her forward and over to the bar. "You should have seen my place in Malibu. Now that was impressive." He sighed wistfully, taking a moment to pour her a drink and refill his own glass. "New York will always be home though."
"I feel that way about London," Martha agreed. She offered up a warm smile when he passed her a glass. "Thank you."
"Both cities are magnets for alien activity," Tony added between sips.
Martha swirled her whiskey around without looking at him. "Still don't think we have anything in common?"
"I'm beginning to notice certain similarities," Tony conceded. "Your files left a lot out though. Are you going to fill in the blanks?"
Martha lifted her gaze. "Is this the trust building portion of the evening?"
Tony shrugged. "Show me yours and I'll show you mine."
"Miraculously, that didn't sound nearly as cheeky as it could have."
"Give it time." Tony raised his glass. "I've already had a few of these. So I'll probably get more inappropriate as the night progresses."
"I'll bear that in mind."
Tony nodded between sips. "Good plan. Story time?"
Martha took a deep breath and followed it with a huge gulp of whiskey. "How much do you know?"
"Harold Saxon went full blown megalomaniac complete with flying spheres of death and the entire world was memory dusted into forgetting."
"They're called the Toclafane," Martha began. "They were human once. Men and women…and children." She clutched her glass tightly and stared absently ahead. "For an entire year, the Master used them scare people into submission and keep them from rising up against him. There were a few who did though. The resistance helped me survive and they helped me spread the word of hope. Most of them lost their lives in the process."
She drained the contents of her glass and reached for the bottle in order to refill it. Tony debated granting her a reprieve, but after another mouthful of liquor she pressed on. "Six months into my time on the run, I secured passage into Japan," she continued. "The whole country had been forced into labor camps. I was captured and placed into one as well." She stared at her hands. "Aka/ao/ten/fifteen…that was my life. Red camp, blue sector, tenth level, bunk fifteen. Work shift gamma soldering chips onto circuit boards until I was exhausted and my hands were burned and scabbed over and bloody. I remember the first time I burned myself badly. I got hit twice in the ribs for delaying the belt rate then told to get back to work," she told him with a mirthless laugh. "I thought I was going to die there."
"How did you get out?" Tony asked before he could stop himself.
"My friends…even someone who was tasked to kill me…they all risked their lives. There was a blackout and riots broke out. I slipped out in the fray and managed to get aboard a container ship headed for San Diego," she answered and her voice began to tremble. "I lost track of the others when I made my escape. Hito. Tokami. Griffin." She shook her head. "The Master sent the Toclafane in and I watched as he set blaze to the islands of Japan. I was the only one to get out alive."
"Did he get away?"
"No," Martha said with a calming sigh. "He was killed, but he was just one of many threats."
Tony's thoughts drifted to the battalions of Chitauri inside the wormhole. "There are a lot more out there," he added tensely.
"Not all bad," Martha told him softly. She placed a gentle hand on his knee.
Tony stared at the hand, neither accepting nor rejecting the gesture. "Not all good either."
"I never would have pegged you for a pessimist," she replied.
"Not pessimistic. Realistic," Tony countered. "Nine out of ten alien visitors might be E.T.s trying to phone their way home, but that doesn't mean we should ignore the fact that number ten might decide to go Independence Day on us."
Martha retracted her hand and took a sip of her drink. "Believe it or not, I've never seen that film," she announced, effectively changing the subject.
"E.T. or Independence Day?"
"The latter one," she revealed.
"What? Seriously?" Martha nodded and Tony responded with a scoff. "How is that possible?"
Martha shrugged. "No reason. I've just never seen it before."
"Is it the name?" Tony teased. "Are the words 'Independence Day' an affront to your British sensibilities?"
Martha huffed quietly in return. "Not in the slightest."
"I bet you hate the Fourth of July too."
"I wouldn't say it's my favorite time of the year," Martha confessed.
"Is it the obscene levels of patriotism?" Tony asked.
"It's just not my thing," Martha answered evasively.
"I get it. No, really I do. Americans are loud and obnoxious and annoying. It's kinda our thing," Tony joked. "You guys are probably still pissed about all that perfectly good tea gone to waste too, right? Isn't that like your lifeblood?"
"I think we've moved on."
"Really? Good, because I'm having obscene thoughts about teabags right now that I should probably keep to myself," he said before finishing off his drink in one gulp.
"Bloody hell." Martha groaned in disgust. "No wonder you're worried about sexual harassment. You're a complete arsehole, aren't you?"
"The word has been applied to me in the past," Tony admitted. "But I did give you fair warning that my degree of inappropriateness directly proportional to my level of inebriation."
"You did," Martha acknowledged as she wrestled his glass away from him. "You should stop drinking."
"My glass is already empty," Tony pointed out.
"Let's keep it that way."
Tony stood up from his stool without so much as a wobble. He definitely had a good buzz going, but it wasn't significant enough that his motor skills were impacted. "You gonna tuck me in?"
"I suppose," Martha said, moving to stand as well. "As long as you keep everything tucked in yourself."
"Can I change first?" Tony asked, looked at himself. He hadn't changed since returning to the Tower and ended up going to bed earlier in his clothes he had worn to the meeting.
"It's your house. I could hardly tell you what you can and can't do with yourself before bed."
"If you did, you wouldn't be the first," Tony replied, leading the way to his bedroom. He paused when he reached the door to his room. It occurred to him that he had been sleeping alone since Pepper left and the nightmares seemed to become prevalent in her absence. Maybe there was something to this touch therapy hogwash after all. Or maybe he was just desperate to not be alone. "Are you staying?" he questioned while pushing the door open.
"It wasn't my original plan, but I reckon I could sleep in this." Martha glanced down at herself. "I've slept in worse."
"In lieu of a naked slumber party, which I'm sure you'd shoot down…"
"And you would be correct," Martha interrupted.
"I could lend you something," he continued. "I've got plenty of t-shirts or with any luck Pepper might have left something behind."
"Is that your girlfriend?" Martha asked. She stood just inside of the door and looked around as if she was afraid of encroaching upon someone else's territory.
"Was," Tony answered. "It's complicated." It truth, his situation with Pepper was pretty simple. After everything that happened with Killian and the Extremis virus, he had pushed her away. It was stupid and they both realized that, but Tony couldn't ignore the fact that she was targeted to get to him. So he gave into the tired old 'I love you so I have to let you go' cliché and insisted that they end things.
Martha moved forward with a small nod. "I imagine most things in your life are," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed and slipped her shoes off.
"Is that a dig?" Tony retorted. He disappeared inside his closet before she answered, but he could have sworn he heard a muffled confirmation. He exchanged his jeans for a pair of sweatpants and grabbed two t-shirts, one for each of them. He was in the middle of working his buttons open when he returned to her. "Take your pick," he told her as he tossed both on the bed. "They both have a lot of mileage on them so you should be comfortable."
Martha curiously eyed the scar on his chest where the arc reactor had been before picking up the Iron Maiden t-shirt.
When she noticed him watching her, she looked at him expectantly and he turned his back to give her some privacy. "You a fan?"
"Of Iron Maiden?" She let out an amused huff. "No, but my baby brother Leo went through a phase when we were younger."
"Metal isn't a phase," Tony objected while he removed his shirt and then blindly reached for the other t-shirt. "It's a lifestyle."
"Says the man that named his alter ego after a Black Sabbath song," Martha retorted, passing the shirt to him.
Tony instinctively glanced back at her and saw that she had finished changing and stood next to the bed wearing his shirt and not much else. "Well Gold-Titanium Alloy Man didn't have the same ring to it," he quipped as he turned to face her.
"Fair enough," she answered with a chuckle.
Tony watched her meticulously fold her clothes, doing her best to furtively tuck her bra between the other garments. "You mind the right side of the bed?" he asked, already moving to the opposite side after pulling on his t-shirt.
"As long as the sheets are clean I can make it work."
"They're clean," Tony promised as they both pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. "I haven't been using it much."
Once she settled on her end, Martha rolled onto her side and looked at him seriously. "Avoiding sleep won't fix anything. I know. I've tried."
Tony exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. "I like working. It calms me."
"Idle hands, eh?"
Tony turned his head towards her. "Speaking of which, we probably should have established some rules before we hit the sheets."
"Probably so," Martha agreed. "But there's no time like the present."
Tony nodded and rolled over to face her. "State your terms."
"First and foremost, no sex," Martha said automatically. "If you want to get a leg over, ring someone else. But if you're having a panic attack or trouble sleeping or you just need someone to support you, I'll come right over."
"Like a booty call without the good stuff?"
Martha rolled her eyes, but nodded in spite of his word choice. "Essentially."
"Okay but don't make a big deal about it if certain situations arise in the middle of the night."
Martha glanced down between them then back up at his eyes. "Do you need to have a wank before we start?"
"No, but I might need one afterwards," Tony retorted.
"You can sort yourself in the morning. Preferably after I've gone."
"You sound so clinical, Doc," Tony teased with a tiny groan. "I hope sex with you is more passionate."
"Not that you'll ever know."
"I can use my imagination."
"You're going to have to because I'm not shagging you."
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Tony said in his best Received Pronunciation. "You're thinking about it aren't you?" he pressed, reverting back to his usual tone of voice.
"The only thing I'm thinking about is sleep," Martha answered with a heavy sigh. "I have work in the morning."
Tony was enjoying the banter, but he conceded with a nod. "You wanna spoon?" he asked. "Which do you prefer to be? Big spoon or little spoon? Little spoon right? Everyone likes being the little spoon."
"Neither. Spooning leads to forking," Martha joked with a completely serious expression that caused Tony to laugh. Once he started, she smiled a bit.
Tony sat up to switch the lights off and then he settled in next to her again. "Spooning. Forking. I'm all in, Doc. Just don't knife me."
"Says the bloke who has a deadly suit of armor," Martha retorted as she closed her eyes and moved a bit closer to him so that their bodies just barely touched.
"Used to have. I hung it all up."
"Oh?" Martha replied with a quiet yawn.
Tony stared at her in silence before replied. "I guess…" His thought drifted to all the suits he had built after the Battle of New York. Each one was an improvement of the last and a desperate attempt to increase his chances of protecting those around him. "I felt like everything was spinning out of control so I tried regaining it in the only way I knew how."
"It's called hypervigilance," Martha said drowsily. "It's not out of the ordinary."
"Yea…" Tony responded in barely a whisper as he watched her drifting to sleep. "Too bad I feel as helpless as ever."
