November 18, 2009
"Are you sure we shouldn't be right there in the building?" Christina asked tensely, peering through the binoculars at the main entrance to Stark Industries Headquarters.
"We can't be any help to anyone if we get hurt in the initial fight ourselves," Harrison said patiently, standing shoulder to shoulder with his wife in the security booth at the edge of the parking lot, restraining his impulse to take the binoculars back from her and scan the area himself. He understood her anxiety. Tonight this was about much more than any abstract effort to save the world, or even the employer they depended on to support their family. Over the years Christina had become a close friend to Pepper Potts — since before Harrison had met her, actually — and he knew his wife wasn't comfortable thinking about the fact that Pepper was about to be in close proximity to two men slugging it out in mech suits equipped with weapons of mass destruction.
He wasn't exactly easy in his mind about it, either.
They'd arrived here in plenty of time, waiting patiently in the warm California night until they'd seen Pepper, accompanied by Agent Coulson, come screeching up in a sports car, followed closely by a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in dark unmarked cars. They had all rushed into headquarters, and now there was only stillness. Harrison's cellphone weighed down his pocket; he knew Grandpa and Grandma were waiting by their phone, ready to jump in with emergency guidance if they needed it, although Grandpa had been very thorough in telling them both everything he knew about what had happened at Stark Industries tonight. They were as well-prepared as they could expect to be.
Suddenly Pepper came running out of the building, and from here Harrison and Christina could hear her talking to someone urgently, presumably on her headset. But almost instantly, the pavement in front of her buckled and burst upwards, and then a great, hulking suit of armor came crawling up out of the ground to level an enormous gun at her. Pepper stood staring up at the Ironmonger suit — with Obadiah Stane inside — with horror etched on her face.
"Should we-" Christina started, sounding anxious as her hand clenched tightly on Harrison's wrist, but just then an amplified voice shouted out into the night: "Staaaaaane!"
Ironmonger turned just in time to see a golden fireball flashing against the night sky, headed directly for him. Instantly he opened fire, but he only got off a salvo before the fireball crashed into him, knocking them down into the hole that just been torn in the pavement and then seconds later crashing through the outer wall of headquarters and tumbling end over end into the street, noisy with Los Angeles traffic at this time of night. Horns blared, tires screeched, and metal crunched as multiple cars collided with each other, and someone screamed: a long, lingering sound. In front of headquarters, Pepper Potts put her hands up to her head in a gesture of alarm.
"Let's go," Harrison said tersely, and without hesitation he and Christina took off, heading for the employee entrance at the side of the building. They both knew the plan, and there was no need to repeat it to each other.
But that plan fell to pieces the moment Harrison scanned his security badge at the entrance, opened the door... and found the entry completely blocked by debris.
Christina looked at him in alarm and started: "Can you clear all that-?"
"Faster to go to the other one," Harrison said tersely, and together they raced around the corner and scanned into the east employee entrance instead.
It was dark inside, with only emergency lights illuminating the carpeted hallways. They both pulled out their flashlights and began striding toward the main workshop, focusing their beams on the floor ahead of them. It didn't take long for them to find the pathway of destruction from Ironmonger's attack: cables torn out of the ceiling and dripping sparks onto the floor, the stench of burning ozone, dented walls and mangled equipment everywhere.
They heard a soft moan, and rounded a corner to find a man dressed in a dark suit down on his hands and knees on the floor, clutching at his head. The beams of their flashlights revealed a S.H.I.E.L.D. badge on his lapel.
"You okay?" Christina asked, kneeling down next to him, and gasped a little when she saw that there was blood flowing down from where his palm was clamped firmly against his temple. His only answer was another suppressed groan.
"Let's get you out of here," she said firmly, and with her help the agent managed to stagger onto his feet and lean heavily against her as she wrapped a supporting arm around his waist.
"Take him to the van," Harrison told Christina. "I'll keep looking." She nodded, and Harrison, his pulse quickening, left them behind and resumed his search of the workshop.
He turned a corner and found a heap of twisted metal blocking his path: The mangled remains of an oversized floor crane, it looked like. Harrison nearly tripped over a thick metal cable as he circled the debris, shining his flashlight inside, and froze in place when he saw a pair of eyes looking back at him from amid the wreck. In a flash he recognized the face of Phil Coulson, smudged with industrial grease... and then his eyes drifted a little lower and he saw that the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was pointing a handgun at him with his one free hand.
"Agent Coulson," he said cautiously. "It's Harrison. Stark Security. We met at the fundraiser a few days ago. Remember?" He shone the flashlight on his own face for a moment, and when he pointed it back at Coulson, the agent was lowering his weapon, relief evident on his face.
"Are you hurt?" Harrison asked, crouching beside him.
"More stuck than hurt," Coulson admitted, pushing uselessly at the debris on top of him.
"Here, let me help." Harrison laid the flashlight on the floor so that its beam illuminated Coulson, and then carefully studied the metal bar pinning the agent's leg to the floor before working his fingers underneath it.
"It's really heavy, you're gonna need help moving that-" Coulson started to say, but Harrison clenched his teeth, braced his back and hauled. With a grinding metallic sound, he managed to lift the bar up and shove it to the side, where it slammed back down to the ground with a crash. Coulson scrambled back to his feet, then bent to massage his leg gingerly.
"Can you walk okay?" Harrison asked.
Coulson ignored this. "Miss Potts-" he said urgently. "She was here. When that thing attacked. We think it was Obadiah Stane inside the suit. He went after her-"
"I know," Harrison said quickly. "I saw her outside, she's okay. Another guy in a suit showed up, the two of them are out fighting in the roadway."
"Stark?" Coulson said sharply. "He's fighting Stane? In his suit?"
"Uh..." Was Coulson supposed to know about the Iron Man suit by now?
Coulson looked at Harrison with a mild expression. "S.H.I.E.L.D. makes it our business to know these things."
Harrison shrugged his shoulders. "In that case... yeah," he said. "Stark's fighting Stane in his suit. How many agents did you have with you? We've gotta evacuate the building."
"Four," Coulson answered, and together they began hunting around the darkened corridors with the help of the flashlight. "Why evacuate, though? Do you think Stane's coming back?"
"No time to explain. Let's just get everyone out."
In the next corridor they found a pair of agents lying unconscious on the floor. Harrison grabbed one man's arm and got him onto his back in a fireman's carry while Coulson stooped to check on the other.
"No pulse," he said in alarm, looking up at Harrison.
"Not here," Harrison said urgently. "Outside."
To his credit, Coulson didn't argue, just lifted the other man onto his own back, and the two of them moved toward the exit with their heavy burdens as quickly as they could.
The first thing they saw when they got outside was Christina standing over the first agent they had found, who was sitting on the edge of the back of their minivan, which they'd parked here for this very purpose. She was pressing a bandage from the first-aid kit against the bloody wound on his head; he was still conscious but looked stunned and weary.
"I called an ambulance," Christina said tersely as Harrison and Coulson eased the agents they carried down to the ground in front of the van. The moment Harrison got his first good look at the man he had carried, he instinctively turned his head; the man was very definitely dead. Beside him, Coulson was starting CPR on the agent he had carried, his face tense. In the bright beams of the headlights, Harrison could see the man's bloody hand out-flung on the pavement; the gold of a wedding ring gleamed there.
"There's one more agent inside," Harrison told Christina. "And when- if Miss Potts goes back in... I might need you."
"Yeah," Christina said, understanding. She turned to the agent she was helping. "Can you hold this yourself?" she asked, and he numbly put his hand up and pressed the bandage against his head wound. "Good. Nice and tight. We'll be right back. The paramedics should be here soon." They could already hear sirens in the distance.
"Coulson, you okay?" Harrison asked.
"I got this," he said breathlessly as he administered chest compressions on the other agent with urgent strength, but he sounded calm and confident enough that the two of them didn't hesitate to hurry back into the building.
This time they searched fruitlessly in the dark for several minutes, and before they had found the missing agent they heard a deafeningly loud crash overhead that shook the whole building... and then another, and then another.
"They're on the roof," Harrison said tersely, glancing up. "We gotta-"
"Here!" Christina said sharply. "Look!"
Her flashlight beam illuminated a tangled pile of electrical wires they had passed twice before, but this time they caught sight of a shoe sticking out from under it. Frantically they unburied the man, the last of Coulson's agents, and Harrison lifted his limp form onto his shoulder. Then from the direction of the annex they heard something else — not crashes, but several softer thunks — followed by a rising electrical whine. They both felt the hairs on the backs of their arms prickle strangely, and they exchanged alarmed looks.
"The arc reactor-" Harrison said.
"Come on!" Christina said, hurrying in front of him with the flashlight to light his way to the exit. But before they had reached it, they heard a voice in the building with them. A woman's voice.
"It's ready, Tony!" she said, her voice echoing loudly down the empty corridor, and they recognized Pepper Potts' voice. "Get off the roof!"
"I got this," Harrison told Christina hastily as the agent's dangling arms bumped against his back. "Can you make sure she makes it out?"
"I'm on it," she said.
But she had barely turned toward the annex when they heard the distinctive percussion of a machine gun blasting overhead. The bullets were finding a metallic target on the roof, by the sound of it... and then from the annex came the sound of shattering glass, a lot of it. Pepper cried out wordlessly from down the hall, but the machine gun didn't stop.
"Wait!" Harrison said urgently, and Christina glanced back at him. "Wait-!"
Christina looked terrified, but she didn't come running back to him. "I have to," she said firmly. "She's my friend!" Behind her, more glass shattered in the annex, and then Pepper screamed in pure distress: "Tony!"
Harrison could not suppress a rising panic. Having his wife come in with him to rescue the injured was one thing, but this, with bullets flying everywhere...
He had intended to have her safely outside by now.
"Wait!" he said, mind racing. If he went to Pepper, if Christina could carry the agent out instead — but the man was tall and heavy and he knew she would be slow, trying to drag him out by the arms...
"She has to live as much as Tony does," Christina said with an unexpected passion, her hands clenched into fists down by her side, and Harrison knew what she meant, because it was exactly how he felt about her. "He needs her!"
"Time to hit the button!" they heard Tony's voice shouting in the distance, and Pepper shouting back: "You told me not to!"
A new explosion sounded on the roof, a big one, and they heard Tony yell: "Just do it!"
"Go!" Christina told Harrison sharply, and then she turned and ran toward the annex and the sounds of destruction.
He had no choice. Gritting his teeth, he charged for the exit with the weight of the agent pressing on his shoulders.
Christina ignored the stitch developing in her side and ran full-speed toward the annex and her friend, the flashlight swinging in her hand and scattering light down the corridor.
"You'll die!" she heard Pepper shout from just ahead.
Christina reached the doorway to the annex just as another explosion hit, and as she raised up her hand to squint against the bright light glaring from above, she could just make out the form of Tony Stark, wearing his sleek red armor but no helmet, dangling one-handed from the steel frame that was all that remained of the shattered glass roof. Just past him, standing further back from the hole in the roof, Christina saw an enormous, bulky suit of armor facing him... equipped with a missile launcher that was pointing right at Tony.
"Push it!" Tony shouted back desperately.
With a grimace, Pepper smacked her palm down on a bright red button. Instantly electricity crackled in the air, and white lightning shot out from the large arc reactor that powered the building and blasted against the machinery surrounding it, sending sparks flying. The white light flooding the room was so bright it was almost impossible to see, but Christina could just make out Pepper blindly wobbling down the glass-encrusted steps in her heels, clutching the railing, and she darted forward and took her friend firmly by the arm.
Even through the crackle of electricity surrounding them, Christina heard Pepper's surprised yelp, but she quickly pulled Pepper away from the exit she had started to head for.
"Not that way!" Christine shouted over the noise. "It's blocked!"
Pepper must have heard her, must have recognized her voice, because she didn't resist as Christina pulled her toward the other employee exit, the one Harrison had headed for — and oh, she hoped he was outside by now, safe and sound. Holding Pepper's arm firmly, she guided her down the corridor, even as the branching lightning channeled itself that way, too, sending white sparks raining down on their heads as they stumbled away, half-blind.
Behind them, they could hear a man screaming in desperate pain as the noise of the electrical discharge reached a fever pitch. To Christine's horror, she could not tell if it was Tony or Obadiah. Pepper slowed down as if to turn back, but Christina grabbed her firmly and kept her moving forward.
And then, just as they caught sight of their salvation — the employee exit with its door propped open to let in a welcome flow of night air — an explosion unlike any of the others that came before rocked the building beneath their feet.
They felt it more than saw it: a wave of white-hot heat blasting through the corridor with merciless intensity, and they both cried out as it engulfed them. It seemed to take an eternity, but must have been only seconds, as Christina managed to get her arms around Pepper and tackle her through the open doorway and onto the sidewalk outside, lying on top of her protectively as the air around them burned with the heat of a thousand suns.
It was hotter than she could bear, and then it grew hotter still. Her face pressed against Pepper's hair, Christina opened her mouth to scream, but the burning air scorched her throat and her lungs, and just as the agony consumed every fiber of her being, everything went black.
Harrison had just lowered the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent he was carrying onto a stretcher with the help of an anxious paramedic when blinding white lightning suddenly cascaded down Stark Industries headquarters, and a bright white pillar shot upward from the roof like a finger pointing straight up into the night sky. For a brief moment everything was illuminated brighter than noonday, and then darkness abruptly fell as the electricity failed in the entire surrounding city block.
The paramedics working on loading the other injured agents into the waiting ambulances exclaimed in surprise, but before anyone could move there was a deafening boom, and the ground trembled beneath their feet as angry red fire blossomed out of every window and doorway of the building.
The police officers who had just arrived on the scene shouted in alarm, ducking instinctively as an enormous fireball rose up from the far side of the building, mushrooming bright orange against the night sky. Sheets of glass could be heard tinkling to the ground, and metal groaned and shrieked from inside.
Harrison felt his heart stop. New lights flashed and sirens wailed as several more police cars came screeching up, but Harrison wasn't about to wait for them, much less the fire engines that hadn't yet arrived. Already he was in motion, tearing toward the employee entrance, uselessly shouting "Christina!" against the deafening roar of the fire that was now consuming the inside of headquarters.
Luckily he didn't have to run far to find her. He had only just reached the entrance when Pepper Potts stumbled out of the billowing cloud of acrid smoke, barefoot and in a scorched business suit, dragging Christina by the wrists to get her away from the flames licking at the doorframe.
His breath catching in his throat, Harrison took Christina from Pepper without a word, lifting her carefully up in his arms. She was unconscious; the back of her shirt was blackened and crumbling to ashes against his palms. He could see that her hair was burned away in places, with the angry red of burned scalp showing through. A numb kind of horror washed over him, but it felt strangely distant, as if it were someone else feeling it.
This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen. He repeated the words over and over again to himself as he held her, even though he could hardly understand what he meant by them. This wasn't supposed to happen.
"She- She laid on top of me-" Pepper managed to get out, and Harrison had just enough presence of mind to remember to look his charge over and make sure she was okay. Pepper seemed relatively unscathed, if obviously shaken; her red hair was in disarray and her shoulders heaved with emotion as she turned away from him to stare helplessly at the flames. Taking a deep breath, fists clenched at her sides, she screamed toward the burning roof as if from the depths of her soul: "Tony!"
But there was no reply.
Harrison silently turned and strode toward the ambulance with his wife's limp form in his arms. Within moments a paramedic was running up to him, waving him toward an empty stretcher, talking him through it as they worked together to lower Christina carefully onto it, face-down. The woman was utterly calm and professional, and Harrison found himself clinging to her composure like a lifeline as she checked Christina's vitals, assured him that there was a pulse, and began giving confident instructions to the other paramedics who quickly joined them, one holding a flashlight to help her evaluate her patient in the darkness.
It was only in the light of the flashlight beams that Harrison could see that the entire back side of his wife's body was burned, the skin red and black and peeling, all the way from her head down to her ankles, and his vision seemed to blur as the magnitude of her injuries washed over him. This wasn't supposed to happen. Gently the paramedics nudged him out of the way as they got to work, and he found himself standing several paces back, watching helplessly, until he suddenly remembered with a jolt: Sarah.
He was supposed to call for Aunt Sarah if something like this happened.
In seconds he had his phone out to call Grandpa, but before he pressed the speed-dial he realized Pepper Potts had not followed him over to the ambulance. He looked around and felt a pulse of alarm: she was still dangerously close to the burning building, pacing frantically back and forth with her hands over her mouth, straining to see the building's roofline through the smoky air.
Harrison glanced back at the paramedics working on his wife, and with an effort he pushed past his distress and forced himself to be reasonable: despite his extreme reluctance to even let Christina out of his sight, the fact was that there was nothing more he could do to help her right now.
And he had a job to do.
It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he clenched his teeth and tore himself away. He was almost back at Pepper's side when she suddenly darted forward. Harrison saw at a glance that there was a fire escape on the east side of the building, and Pepper was making a beeline for it despite the thick smoke billowing out of the windows that overlooked the fire escape.
Harrison grabbed her by the arm. "No! Stand back! Look, the smoke-"
"He's on the roof!" Pepper shouted almost angrily, pulling away from him. "Tony's on the roof! I have to-"
"It's too dangerous!" he interrupted. "Just wait-"
"We can't wait!" she shot back, blue eyes intense. "We have to get him now!"
She might be right, Harrison realized. There were more sirens in the distance, probably the fire trucks, but even once they got here it would take time to inform them someone was in the building, more time for them to evaluate and form a plan, more time to execute it... or they just might deem it too dangerous to attempt a rescue. Considering the volume of smoke swirling around the roof, that seemed like a distinct possibility.
Harrison locked eyes with Pepper. "I'll go."
Relief flashed in her eyes, but then she turned to look at Christina, now being loaded into an ambulance, and she hesitated. "But-"
"Here." Harrison pushed his phone into her hand. "Call that number on the screen. Tell them to send my Aunt Sarah. Understand? Tell Sarah to come here, as quick as she can."
"Okay. Tell Sarah to come," Pepper repeated readily. "I got it."
"I'll get him. Don't worry."
"Okay."
Harrison dashed to the escape and took the stairs up three at a time, holding his breath as he passed windows billowing thick dark smoke. Even so, his eyes stung and watered and he could not stop himself from coughing vigorously as he finally reached the roof.
He took a moment to assess the situation through blurring vision. There was a huge gaping hole in the roof, spreading out from the atrium located at the front of the building, as well as a lot of other, smaller holes around it. Flames were licking at the edges of some and, worst of all, a much larger fire was roaring at the front edge of the building and moving steadily toward the back.
He saw Tony.
He was lying on his back at the edge of the largest hole, dressed in his armor except the helmet. He appeared to be unconscious... and Harrison felt his heart skip a beat when he saw that the ring of light embedded in Tony's chest was flickering rapidly. The arc reactor must be damaged.
That would have to be repaired immediately, Harrison knew, or the shrapnel in his chest cavity would begin moving toward his heart. But with Tony unconscious, who would know how to repair it?
One thing at a time.
Tony was positioned in the worst possible place, with the largest hole in the roof between him and Harrison, and dangerously close to the creeping fire on his other side. There was no obvious way to get to him; the hole extended all the way to the edge of the roof on both sides; even the tops of the walls were crumbled too.
Cautiously Harrison made his way to the edge of the hole and looked down into the annex below. The bulky Iron Monger suit was spread-eagled across the smashed remains of the large arc reactor that had powered the building. The front was open, revealing Obadiah Stane from the chest up. He was utterly still, with that distinctive but undefinable stillness of death, and even as Harrison fought not to gag from the stench of burnt flesh rising up, he felt a wave of relief that he wouldn't have to finish the job. That was one of the things they hadn't been sure about.
There was only one thing to do. Harrison backed up several steps, looked around to make sure he wasn't visible to anyone down on the ground, and then charged toward the hole in the roof at top speed, launching himself into a powerful jump just as he reached the edge.
It was a good strong jump, fueled by an adrenaline surge unlike any he'd felt before, but he almost didn't make it. His leading foot missed the edge of the hole as he descended, and in desperation he flung out his arm and managed to grab the edge just in time. His arm was wrenched badly, but he only dangled for a few seconds before he pulled himself up to safety. He took time only to take in a few ragged breaths before scrambling over to kneel by Tony's side.
"Mr. Stark?" he asked, shaking him gently, but he didn't so much as twitch an eyelid in response. His arc reactor flickered wildly, although he did appear to be still breathing, if shallowly. Acrid smoke billowed over them both, and Harrison held his breath while he kicked away some burning debris only a foot away from Tony's outflung hand. He'd have to carry Tony to the edge of the roof. Assuming it was safe to move him.
"Mr. Stark requires immediate assistance," a man's voice said, and Harrison jerked around, startled to find he wasn't alone on the roof after all. But no one was in sight.
The next moment, though, it registered that the voice had a British accent, and that it was, in fact, coming from the mangled Iron Man helmet lying a few paces away.
"Jarvis," Harrison breathed as he snatched up the helmet, relieved to have a helping hand. "Do you have his vitals? What's wrong with the arc reactor? How can I fix it?"
"Mr. Stark's chestplate is dented inward; his heart is constricted by the pressure," Jarvis said from the helmet, his voice oddly calm considering the circumstances. "The arc reactor has merely been pushed out of alignment. You'll need to remove the damaged armor quickly. In Mr. Stark's workshop-"
"We don't have time for that," Harrison said, setting the helmet down by his feet. His groping hands found the thin seam under Tony's arm between the chestplate and backplate and, with a grimace, he worked his fingertips into the crack and began to pry the pieces apart with a terrible effort.
"Sir, the armor is made of titanium. Without tools you won't be able to-"
With a metallic groan, the chestplate gave way ever so slightly. Harrison adjusted his grip and pulled again, muscles straining and sweat beading on his brow. Incrementally the two pieces pulled a few centimeters apart, and then a few centimeters more. He took a fresh grip, gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might. As the pressure of the dented chestplate released, abruptly the circle of light in Tony's chest stopped flickering and shone out bright and steady.
Harrison's shoulders sagged with relief. There was a brief silence.
"Apparently the chestplate was damaged more than I thought," Jarvis said mildly.
"Apparently," Harrison said, fighting to catch his breath. Already he could tell that Tony was breathing more easily. He looked around and saw with a surge of relief that a fire truck had arrived on the scene and a sturdy ladder was slowly being extended toward the roof. Pepper must have directed the firefighters up here, and it was a good thing too; the fire was steadily eating away at the roof, and a collapse was probably imminent.
Harrison slid one arm under Tony's shoulders, thinking to carry him closer to the approaching ladder, but just then Tony stirred a little, and then, slowly, his eyes fluttered open. He looked at Harrison blankly, and then gave a sudden start.
"Pepper!" he said hoarsely, trying to sit up.
"She's safe. She's with my wife," Harrison said quickly, gently holding him in place. "Be careful, Mr. Stark, you're right at the edge."
Tony turned his head to the right and saw where the arc reactor had blown the hole in the roof. He groaned softly. "Did you see-?" He couldn't seem to decide how to finish the sentence, but Harrison finished it for him.
"You mean Mr. Stane?" he said gently. "He's down there. He's dead. I'm sorry, sir."
He meant of course that he was sorry for Obadiah Stane's betrayal, although Tony had no way to know he knew about that already. Still, the expression of pain that crossed Tony's face was hard to watch, and Harrison had to bite his lip, wishing he could say more to comfort him and knowing that he could not. Whatever Stane had become and whenever he had become it, Tony had spent his entire youth looking up to the man and believing that he cared for him as a father did for a son. If he felt grief as well as anger, Harrison could hardly blame him for that.
He glanced up to see that the ladder was hovering near them now, with a firefighter dressed in full gear perched atop urgently beckoning to them as the smoke around them thickened and swirled.
"Come on, sir," Harrison said, helping Tony up carefully. "Let's get you down from here. Nice and easy."
Aunt Sarah carefully withdrew the needle from Christina's arm, laid the empty syringe on the table, and then began making the graceful healing motions she had developed as Harrison stood with his back against the door of his wife's hospital room, just in case a nurse tried to come in at the wrong moment.
The medical transport van that was supposedly going to transfer Christina to the nearest burn center would be here soon, with his cousin Bram posing as the driver, but if this magical procedure went as it should, he would take her home instead. Harrison prayed with all his might that it would work, that the deep burns spreading across the back of her legs and her back and her scalp would be healed. Aunt Sarah was confident, but Harrison knew all too well that Dr. Erskine's formula had an element of unpredictability to it. Ultimately it would perform according to the desires of its recipient, and even though he was confident that his wife would want nothing more than to be whole and healthy, there was a part of him that feared anyway.
He knew he wasn't being quite rational, but it had been a difficult day. Even though Aunt Sarah had been able to arrive quickly, equipped with a false hospital ID his dad had prepared for her, she had been unable to treat Christina immediately. There had simply been too many medical personnel around, doing their earnest best to treat his wife's extensive burns in the only way they knew how. Sarah had whispered quietly to him in the hallway not to worry, that Christina wasn't in immediate danger, that she had been heavily sedated and wasn't suffering, but it had been maddening to know that an effective treatment for his wife was so close and yet impossible to administer.
But there was no way for Aunt Sarah to hide what it was she was doing, as Harrison could clearly see as a blue light began to glow from within her, and with graceful movements she extracted a glowing orb of energy from her own body and pushed it into Christina's belly.
His wife breathed more quickly, stirring slightly, and after what seemed like an interminable wait, her eyes fluttered open.
"How are you feeling, honey?" Sarah asked softly, tucking her sling ring into her pocket and bending down to look into her eyes. "Do you remember what happened?"
Christina slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, looking around her in confusion until she finally seemed to realize where she was.
"I was at headquarters..." she said slowly.
"Does it hurt?" Harrison asked anxiously before he could stop himself. "Anywhere?"
Christina reached up and touched the bandage on her head uncertainly, and Sarah reached over and gently unwound it.
The horrible burn on her scalp had vanished and the skin under the bandage was pink and healthy, although there was a still a big patch of hair missing. Harrison held his breath as Sarah gently lifted up the bandages taped over Christina's back and the back of her legs.
The burns were gone. The serum had done its work. Aunt Sarah looked relieved as she taped the bandages back into place and then sat down limply on a chair by the bedside, looking a little shaky. Healing major injuries always left her weakened for a time.
Harrison left his post against the door and pressed a silent but firm kiss against Christina's cheek, intensely grateful that she was going to be okay. So many words and thoughts and feelings were crowding inside him, but all he managed to blurt out was, "I love you."
"I love you, too," she said automatically. "Is Pepper-?"
"She's fine," Harrison said promptly, reaching out to hold her hand. "Barely even singed. You saved her, honey."
Christina closed her eyes for a moment with relief. "And Tony?" she asked.
"Fine. They're both fine."
She nodded, looking intensely grateful. "What about the girls?" she asked then, looking around the hospital room. "Aren't they here?"
"They're still with Maggie and Henry at their country home," Harrison answered. "I called and talked to Carol and Pepper, while- While you were asleep. They had a big snowstorm at King's Worthy yesterday and it sounds they had the time of their lives playing in the snow."
Christina relaxed noticeably. "And Janet?"
"She was taking a nap when I called. But Maggie said she had fun and was being a good girl."
"I find that hard to believe," Christina said, although her tone was good-natured enough. Janet tended to be a handful for them at home. She wasn't exactly bad, not really, but she didn't seem to have an off button. The fact that Maggie had gotten her to sleep in the daytime was something of a miracle in and of itself.
"And how is my husband?" Christina continued, giving him an all-too-knowing look.
"Happy that his wife is on the mend."
She smiled at him, and they squeezed hands firmly. "But have you had anything to eat since I've been here?" she pressed. "Anything to drink? Even sat down for a minute?"
"Not really," he admitted reluctantly.
"Bram will be here in half an hour," Sarah put in. "You can run down to the cafeteria, Harrison. I'll stay with her."
The hospital cafeteria was nearly empty at this hour. It was only after Harrison had paid the cashier for his food and entered the dining room that he saw that Phil Coulson was sitting alone at a table near the windows, looking weary with his suit jacket carelessly draped across the back of his chair, although he straightened up as Harrison made his way over to him.
"How's your wife?" Coulson asked, looking up with sincere concern.
"She's gonna be okay," Harrison said, and he could not hide the fresh rush of relief he felt, speaking those words. "How are your agents?"
"On the mend," Coulson said, and there was visible relief in his eyes, too. He pushed out the chair across from him with his foot. "Have a seat."
Harrison sat down and took a bite of his sandwich, only belatedly realizing how hungry he was. Coulson must have been hungry, too, because they sat there in silence for a few minutes, intent on their food. Finally, though, Coulson laid down his fork and said: "Happy Hogan told me you weren't on duty this weekend. How is it that you were there at headquarters?"
"Oh, yeah," Harrison said, dragging his attention away from the food in an effort to remember his cover story. "My wife works in Accounting. She was asked to make a presentation on the budget Monday, and she had to come in to the office to print out some reports that she needed to prepare for it."
He tried not to hold his breath, praying that Coulson's suspicions would not be aroused. There was no reason for Coulson to believe that he was working for Obadiah Stane in any way, given that both he and Christina had risked their lives to help Stane's victims, but at the same time, Coulson was no fool. If he detected any deception at all...
"Lucky thing," Coulson said mildly.
"Yeah. I'm glad we were there. Real glad." It was easier to say that with perfect sincerity, now that he knew Christina would be okay. Coulson seemed satisfied enough with his answer, and he looked down to take another bite of salad. Harrison felt himself relax ever so slightly.
"I did a background check on you," Coulson added casually when he had finished chewing.
Harrison paused in the act of taking a bite of sandwich.
"Hope you don't mind," Coulson added, gazing at him serenely.
Mind? Why would he mind? Harrison's identity was one piece of a massive world-altering secret, encompassing the improbable survival of Steve Rogers and the existence of their entire family, not to mention the reality of time travel, Hydra's hidden infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D., the coming apocalyptic Snap, and worst of all, the knowledge of Coulson's own death, only a few years away now. Harrison fought not to choke on his mouthful of bread. His public identity had been carefully massaged into an acceptable shape, thanks to the efforts of his dad and Grandma, not to mention his sister Sammy's hacking expertise. They couldn't have made any mistakes. There was nothing in it that would alarm S.H.I.E.L.D. Was there?
"Why?" Harrison asked once he had swallowed, trying to sound merely curious.
"Look," Coulson said mildly. "The last thing on earth we need right now is for Tony Stark to be exposed as Iron Man."
"Okay..." Harrison said slowly.
"But people saw him," Coulson continued. "Fighting in the streets, flying through the air. Every paper in the country is covering the explosion at headquarters. Reporters are nosing around, asking questions. We need to come up with an explanation that people will believe."
"Okay..." Harrison said again.
"I asked my boss," Coulson said, "and he approved my plan. I think we should pin it on you."
Harrison dropped his sandwich on his plate, and a slice of tomato slipped out and landed on the table.
"Me?" he asked, genuinely startled.
"Sure," Coulson said calmly. "You're paid to protect Tony Stark, after all. Squeaky clean past. Witnesses saw you at the scene. They saw your dedication and bravery. It wouldn't be hard to believe that Stark Industries chose you to test their robotic prototype. You even look the part. Square jaw, good physique, strong as an ox. A little-" He waved one hand expressively as he searched for the word. "-Steve Rogerish."
Harrison let out an explosive breath. "If... Steve Rogers were Vietnamese, and living in the 21st century," he said, managing to stay deadpan.
"Exactly," Coulson said with perfect earnestness.
"I don't know," Harrison said after a beat.
"We wouldn't give your name to the press," Coulson assured him. "Just... let a few rumors loose, keep it anonymous, let them come to their own conclusions. Ambiguity's the way to go in situations like this. Gives you plausible deniability."
"Well," Harrison said after a long pause. "If it helps Mr. Stark..."
Coulson leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. "Oh, don't worry. You'd be doing him a big favor."
"The truth is-" Tony Stark said, gazing across the room packed with reporters. Christine Everheart was seated front and center by the podium, hands clasped elegantly over a notebook that she wasn't writing in. From his viewpoint standing in the back of the room, Harrison could see his cousin Joe sitting further back and to the side, holding his tape recorder out with an air of anxious expectation. They'd been careful not to so much as make eye contact. Lt. Col. James Rhodes had finished making his statement and was standing a pace away from Tony, dressed impeccably in his Air Force uniform but noticeably nervous, the sheen of sweat visible on his brow.
Tony seemed to come to a decision and laid his index cards on the podium without looking at them.
"-I am Iron Man," he said coolly.
The room erupted into chaos. Every reporter except Christine Everheart and Joe jumped to their feet and began shouting questions. Cameras flashed like lightning. Rhodey pressed his lips together firmly and glanced up at the heavens in a silent appeal. Harrison could see Coulson in the doorway of the adjacent room, eyes widening in shock before he slowly buried his face in his hands, shoulders sagging. Pepper was by his side, with a strange small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Well," Harrison said musingly to no one in particular, his voice inaudible amid the cacophony of shouting reporters, "so much for my career as a superhero."
TO BE CONTINUED
Reviews are welcome!