"So, this is home," Tony chirped as Happy hauled in my pack from outside and I frowned at the billionaire.

"I told you to take me to a hotel."

"Nah, stay! Get comfy. The media hounds will find you anyway. This way, you've got nothing to worry about."

I was exhausted though. Too tired to really fight with him more than this and desperately needing a shower. "One night. Two, max," I grumbled, begrudgingly heading off up the stairs where Happy had disappeared to.

"As long as you want!" Tony chimed back and I shook my head, mentally questioning why I was even bothering.


I scowled at the laptop Tony was letting me use, flipping through apartment listings in frustration. The housing market was terrible apparently and trying to find a decent one with my budget and no current job was more than frustrating. Pepper was also not dealing with things well, seated on the other sofa nearby and watching some maniac talking about Tony's new business idea to get rid of the weapon industry.

"Does the Hindenburg ring any bells?"

I glanced up briefly and scowled, turning back to the computer and switching to job listings instead. Without letters of recommendation to provide, thanks to my not-so-great discharge from the military, my initial plan had to be scrapped.

"Kat, how big are your hands?"

I blinked, looking at the little icon on my screen that had appeared and tipping the screen back in confusion. "What? Tony?"

"Yeah, hi. How big are your hands?" He repeated. "Or, well, hand."

"The hell kind of question—"

"Get down here. I need you. Ah, bring Pepper with you. In case I need… you know: two hands."

"Ass," I spat once his icon was gone, looking to Pepper who smiled with a sort of grimace.

"Sorry about him."

I huffed, standing with my crutch and starting to hobble my way to the stairs. "'s not your fault. He's got a shit personality."

Pepper winced, hastily moving to assist me with the stairs until I waved her off; still, she hovered for any sign of weakness. "He's not that bad."

"I've known him for maybe five days, so I can't exactly argue with you," I grumbled, shifting my eyes to her. "Though, from what I've seen, he's not exactly a saint either."

She sighed softly as we reached the glass door to Tony's lab and she input the code to get in. I looked around in slight curiosity before Tony called out from the seat he was lounging in with his shirt off.

"Hey. Let's see. Show me your hand. Let's see."

I stopped near him, lifting up my hand and he hummed.

"Not too big. Little dainty. Not bad. I half expected gorilla-sized."

"If I could punch you without losing my crutch, I would," I grumbled, earning a chuckle before Pepper gaped at the metal in Tony's chest.

"Oh, my God. Is that the thing that's keeping you alive?"

"It was. It is now an antique," Tony hummed, holding another one in his hand as I eyed both pieces of technology.

"You never even mentioned what it was to me," I mused, shooting him a look and he snapped his fingers.

"That's what I like about you. No questions. Straight to the point. Now, I'm swapping it out for this, and I just ran into a little speed bump."

"Speed bump? What does that mean?" Pepper asked, looking worried.

"It's nothing. It's just a little snag. There's an exposed wire under this device and it's contacting the socket wall and causing a little bit of a short. It's fine." He pulled out the device and handed it off to Pepper, while I leaned off my crutch and set it aside—cringing as I shifted my weight off my injured leg.

"What am I doing?" I asked as Pepper put the device on the table with a grimace of disgust.

"I just want you to reach in and you're just gonna gently lift the wire out."

I looked at him. "And do what with it?"

"It's like Operation. You just don't let it touch the socket wall, or it goes 'beep.'"

"I hated that game," I muttered but did as he asked and reached into his chest for the wire.

"Were you at least good at it?" He asked as I wrinkled my nose at whatever goop I was putting my hand in and the tightness of the metal cylinder around my knuckles.

"Decent, but it's hardly a game when you play it by yourself."

"Right. Lonely childhood. I get that."

Sure, you do. "I've got the wire. Now what?"

"Is she even qualified to do this?" Pepper asked.

"She's a soldier. I'm sure she's done worse."

"I'm not a medic," I argued, "but sure. I've pulled out a few bullets and completed emergency field medic training, except I took a double dose." My emerald eyes shifted to Pepper's uncertain expression. "I can take care of myself and the people around me just fine with limited medical equipment and a nonsterile environment."

"See? Qualified. The copper wire. You got it?"

"Yeah," I said, wincing as I shifted my weight once more. "My leg's starting to hurt though, so you need to speed this up or I'm passing it to Pepper."

"Right. Now make sure that when you pull it out, you don't pull out the magnet at the end of it."

I held the wire up and he nodded, moving to work it through the other device only to scowl.

"Okay. It's not compatible with this new one, apparently, so I want you to take out the magnet."

"Take it out?" I repeated, uncertain.

"Yes, but then I'm going to hand you this one. You need to attach it to the base plate as quickly as possible because I'll go into cardiac arrest."

"Fun," I murmured as Pepper quickly became concerned.

"I thought you said this was safe!"

"It is. It's fine. You want to help? Take the wire once she pulls it out since she won't have the hands to take it."

I frowned at Tony. "You're going to keep going with the one-handed comments, aren't you?"

"Every chance I get," he chirped as I huffed.

"Still an ass. Three, two, one." I jerked the magnet out, handing it off to Pepper and taking the new one from Tony—grabbing it by the wire.

"Pepper, Pepper, hold the metal so she can plug it in."

Pepper grabbed it and I reached into his chest until I found where it needed to be and inserted the wire. He jolted with a gasp, but the heart monitor calmed, and he sighed in relief.

"Was that so hard? That was fun, right?"

"Yeah, joy," I scoffed, grimacing again before grabbing a hold of the side of his seat. "I need a chair."

Pepper hurried and grabbed one, rolling it over for me to collapse in as I grunted in pain and frowned at the red spot on my grey sweatpants.

"Why have me do this when Pepper could without the risk of my damn leg bleeding through the bandages?"

"Thought you'd want a look. Engineer, yeah? Surely, you've got questions."

"You said you didn't like questions."

"Well, I do when they make me look good."

"And now I don't feel like asking anything."

"Oh, come on. Don't be such a tease."

I scowled, accepting a towel from Pepper to wipe the goop off my hand. "Fine. What is it?"

"It's a miniature of my Arc reactor."

I blinked slowly, waiting for more information until I realized he wasn't going to give it. "I know what a reactor is, but you have to understand, I've been in Af—" I cut myself off when I saw the hint of unease at naming the country. "I've been serving since just out of high school. I'm not exactly up to date on technology—much less what you've done."

He gaped, holding a hand to his chest as he started to sit up. "Kat! I'm shocked! I'm offended! You don't know what Stark Industries has made?"

I lifted my lip in annoyance. "Only what's made it to the military." There. A subtle flinch. He's more than just bothered by this. "And what do you think you're going to prove by stopping weapons manufacturing? It just leaves an empty space for another company to take over. War won't end just because you decided to stop adding to it." As if it were that easy. I wish it were that easy.

His eyes had turned sharp and for a moment, I was glad. I was hoping I'd pissed him off enough to kick me out, to let me go back to the wallowing I wanted to do alone. As it was, I hadn't slept for more than a moment last night before waking up in a cold sweat, remembering Ramirez, Jimmy, and Pratt's laughing faces before a bullet knocked them to the ground. I could have done more. Should have done more, but this rich idiot thought he was doing just that by stopping his company from making missiles? Hell, I'll bet his company is still making and shipping them. He hasn't properly run his company since he started, probably. Pepper has shown that much. He's got even less sway than he thinks, and it shows.

Then, his anger was gone and replaced with a grin as he dropped his shirt onto the chair and stood.

"Right, so, it was mostly made to satisfy those who complained about the weapons. They figured if we had technology big enough to cause wars, then it could surely be applied to bettering the planet. So, we worked out a design. Created a fusion reactor that's capable of generating an electric current powerful enough to run a hell of a lot of buildings. Or, in this case, creates an electromagnetic field to hold the tiny bits of shrapnel in place instead of letting them move into my heart and kill me."

He had completely ignored my comments about his company, but I hardly noticed as I ran through what he had explained.

"W-What do you want me to do with this?" Pepper asked then, holding up the old reactor.

"That? Destroy it. Incinerate it," Tony shrugged off.

"You don't want to keep it?"

Even I shot her a look at that. "And do what with it? It's a powerful piece of technology and if anyone else gets a hold of it, then there could be problems."

"See?" Tony hummed, as Pepper hesitated. "Pepper, I've been called many things, 'nostalgic' is not one of them."

She begrudgingly gave in. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts." He then spoke to a mechanical arm robot of some sort, having it start cleaning his desk before he looked over to me, grabbing a box and dragging over another chair. "Leg."

"What?"

"You heard me." He sat down and pat his lap, rolling up near me. "Leg."

"I'm not—Ngh! You piece of sh—"

"Now, I did ask nicely," he smirked, having pulled my leg up onto his lap and wiggling his fingers. "Am I going to have to strip you as well?"

"Piss off," I snarled, pulling my leg off his lap and begrudgingly pulling off my sweats to get to the bandages wrapped around my thigh.

"Boo. Boxers? Really?" He pouted, eyeing my choice of blue patterned boxers as I scoffed.

"What? Lingerie in the military?" I scoffed, carefully dropping my leg back onto his knees. "Don't be stupid."

He raised a brow. "Everything's not all nice and shiny in military-ville?"

I settled a harsh glare on him. "Don't even fucking joke, Stark."

He held up his hand in surrender, willing to drop that topic as he finished unwrapping the bandages around my thigh and winced. "You tore your stitches."

I dug through the medkit and began gathering what I'd need. "I'll re-stitch it then."

"I could—"

I glared again and he begrudgingly let me do it, watching as I prepped the needle and got to work after removing what was left of the previous stitching.

"I know stopping my company won't fix everything," he said suddenly, making my hand pause for a moment before continuing. "I felt I had to take some responsibility though, especially when it was my weapons that caused those men and women to die."

"People die in wars," I grumbled, hating that I was starting to regret my own words to him when he so plainly had similar feelings as mine. "Doesn't matter who made the guns or the missiles. It's the people who shoot them that are to blame."

"Then, why are you blaming yourself too?"

My emerald eyes snapped to his, silently wondering how he knew.

"You talk in your sleep," he replied to my unasked question. "Jarvis—my AI system—alerted me to you having a nightmare last night. I checked in on one of the cameras to make sure you were doing okay. You… mentioned them."

I looked back at my work. "I was their superior officer for that mission. I could have done more to better prepare them and keep them safe."

"You did what you could."

I scoffed. "I did what my mission demanded. I kept you safe. At that moment… their lives weren't my priority."

"That's not true," he argued as I tied off my stitches and cut the excess, grabbing an alcohol swab to clean up around it. "You did try to help them. I was there, remember?"

"And they still died," I snapped, teeth grit against the pain of the alcohol and my own bitterness. "So, obviously, I didn't do enough."

"You found me."

"I abandoned my post to hide from my guilt in the hopes that saving you might mean I hadn't failed," I finally admitted, bandaging my leg and shooting him a glare as I struggled with my sweats. "Happy?"

He stumbled to try and say something, understanding that he'd pressed too hard, but I was already picking up my crutch and hobbling for the door.

"I'll be upstairs, looking for a job and an apartment."

"Kat, I—"

"Don't. Just… Just don't."


By the next morning, I'd left and ended up in a hotel not too far away. He'd located me easily, of course, sending me texts until I nearly broke the phone out of frustration. It took another week to locate a cheap apartment in a questionable area with equally questionable other tenants, but it would do. Getting a job was a bit more difficult. I ended up with a small-time security job—no questions asked and not needing a security license since the employer believed my military background was good enough—and another part-time job as a mechanic. As someone who didn't sleep well anyway, the lack of time to do so didn't change much.

What I didn't want, was to step off the bike I bought off a neighbor doped up on some form of crack and recognize the place of my new job as security.

"This fucking piece of shit," I spat, knowing it was too good to be true when I hadn't needed a security license.

I pressed a finger onto the intercom at the front door only to see that cocky grin of his appear on his fancy hologram.

"You are an absolute piece of work, you know that?"

"Glad you missed me, honey. Ready to work?"

"Work? Work on what!" I snapped. "You don't need damn security in your own fucking house!"

"Whoa! Language," he chided. "Tell you what. You play nice, and I'll let you in on something great."

"How about you let me in the house first," I grumbled.

"Right. One sec."

The door clicked and I stepped in, leaning my bike against a wall near the door and nearly jumping out of my skin when an automated voice spoke up.

"Mr. Stark is down in his lab, Miss Summers."

I frowned up at the ceiling in mild annoyance, having not appreciated Tony's little AI friend when he (it?) startled me first thing in the morning after a fresh nightmare. Shaking my head, I headed for the stairs down, glad that I was no longer using the crutch which would have inhibited my ability to get hired to begin with. I spotted Tony working on mechanics and—knowing the lab was also locked—rapped my knuckles on the glass to get his attention. He looked over and grinned, getting the door unlocked via his AI and allowing me entrance.

"How the hell did you find me again?"

"Well, it's not like you're hard to find when I can search through all the apartment and job listings within the last few weeks for one Katherine Evangeline Summer with military experience and a missing arm."

"Why me?" I grumbled, clearly remembering the last time we'd spoken and how poorly it went.

"Why not?"

"No, Tony. Seriously. Why?"

He paused, either because I'd finally called him "Tony" instead of "Stark" or because he was actually going to give me a solid answer.

"We're not exactly friends," I went on, a slight frown marring my face, which I rubbed at for a moment—still not used to the itchy scar that I'd uncovered. "I didn't save you because I knew you or even liked you. Honestly, I still don't like you. You've got more ego and narcissism than a God damn planet, much less a human body. And you suddenly deciding that you're going to be a humanitarian because of some life-or-death experience doesn't sit well with me. I gave you the chance—multiple chances to just let us go our ways. So, why did you bring me back?"

He was quiet, watching me for a moment, thinking. "I don't know."

I sighed. "Tony—"

"No. I mean it. I don't know. I don't know why I keep bringing you back. I could say I'm lonely or, or struggling with what happened to me and you feel like a support or some other bullshit, but I don't know." He shrugged and turned in his chair. "What I do know, is that I'm not the only one struggling and I'm not some psychiatric guru but I know what always helps me."

My hand snapped up and caught the screwdriver he'd thrown.

"Want to help me with something?"

I sighed, shaking my head but moving over to the table where a metal boot was. "What do you need me to do?"

He smiled, one that I felt finally looked real, before showing me what needed to be done.


Tony leaned over, looking to see if Kat had actually fallen asleep, and cracked a small smile to see the woman doing just that—half sprawled over his work desk. Perfect.

"Jarvis, get measurements and add them to my other side project."

"Of course, sir. Would you like me to do anything else?"

"Hm… how'd she get here?"

"I believe she rode a bike, which is now near the door."

"Yeah, we'll get rid of that. Search her web history. See if she's ever looked at any cars and get the make and models of them on a list for later. And while you're at it, find an apartment nearby that you think would work out. Minimal time between here and there and do background checks on the tenants. Nothing like the dump she's in now."

"Are you certain she will appreciate this, sir?"

"Eh. She'll get over it."


The next few days were spent with me arguing with Tony over his unneeded involvement in my life and the components of his new "hover boots." He insisted that's not what they were, but I wasn't about to stop calling them that until he stopped meddling in my affairs. Already, he'd somehow managed to move all my things to a new apartment and handed me keys to a vehicle I expressly informed him that I wasn't allowed to drive due to being only one-handed. Though I absolutely adored the Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle, it was just a tease when I wasn't legally allowed to ride it—or even physically capable. What did help, was watching him repeatedly get thrown around his lab while testing the boots of the new metal suit he was trying to make.

"Explain to me again, why you feel making a weaponized metal suit of armor is better than your company just making weapons?" I drawled, watching him start tweaking an arm casing now as I twirled a tool between my fingers idly.

"It's not weaponized—"

"It will be. I've seen the schematics."

"How!"

I stopped twirling the tool and pointed it upward as Jarvis chimed in.

"Apologies, sir. You did enable her access to the schematics the moment you authorized her entry to the lab and the ability to adjust the holograms."

"Right. Remind me not to do that again. And it's only to destroy those weapons still left, Kat."

"Sure," I hummed, not believing him just as Pepper walked in.

"I've been buzzing you. Didn't you hear the intercom?" She asked, setting down a box and passing me a mug that I gratefully took before she looked at him.

"Obadiah's upstairs."

"Great. I'll be right up."

"What would you like me to tell him?"

Tony didn't respond, lifting up what he'd finished and aiming his palm away from him as Pepper watched him warily.

"I thought you said you were done making weapons."

"You too? Look. It's a flight stabilizer. It's completely harmless," Tony grumbled, charging it up only for it to fire off and launch him backward as I winced, and Pepper covered her ears. "I didn't expect that."

"You good?" I chimed, leaning back in my seat a bit and sipping my drink.

"I'm okay," he replied, and I nodded as Pepper gaped.

"Y-You're not going to help him?"

"Nope. He decided to meddle in my life and when he refused to switch it back, I informed him he'd have to live with his consequences. Namely…" I pointed my stump to him as he clambered out of the mess he'd flown into. "I did tell him he should be careful of the power input."

"Which I will now take into consideration," Tony grunted, rubbing the back of his head. "Lunch break?"

I rolled my eyes, pushing my feet off his desk and standing. "It's closer to dinner but sure. I better head home though since it's late."

"No, stay. I've got something for you. Let me just get rid of Obadiah."

"Tony!" Pepper scolded, making him hold up a hand.

"Joking."

I shook my head and started up after Pepper. Tony took a while longer to follow after us, most likely to check his head or change his shirt or whatever, but I stepped upstairs and made for the kitchen—until I spotted the pizza box.

"Ah, Obadiah, this is—"

"Captain Katherine Summers," I greeted, pointing to the box. "Mind if I…"

"No. Go right ahead," he smiled. "You're the soldier who helped Tony, right? If there's anything you need, let us know. The company owes you a lot after you saved him."

I blinked at the man, making note of the way he acted like he was head of the company Tony was technically in charge of. "Yeah, I didn't really save him."

"Nonsense," he hummed, returning to his piano playing—which I hated to admit was quite good. "Anything you need, just give us a call."

I grunted around a mouthful of pizza just as Tony came up and I caught his attention by waving my stump towards the kitchen.

"What? Yeah. Liquor's all yours."

Sweet. The one upside to Tony's place was my free access to his excellent selection of alcohol, and I wasn't about to let a good scotch slip away untasted.

"How'd it go?" He asked Obadiah, before spotting the pizza. "Oh, went that bad, huh?"

"Just because I brought pizza back from New York doesn't mean it went bad," Obadiah explained as I snorted.

Rich mother fuckers. This pizza's from across the country and it's still warm.

"Uh-huh. Sure doesn't."

"Would've gone better if you were there," Obadiah countered, but Tony didn't seem to care.

"Uh-uh. You told me to lay low. That's what I've been doing. I lay low and you take care of all—"

"Hey, come on. In public. The press," Obadiah pressed, heading over. "This was a board of directors meeting."

"This was a board of directors meeting?" Tony stated more than asked, feigning shock.

"Tony," I called out, waving the scotch bottle and he nodded whereas Pepper shook her head when I offered her some.

Obadiah didn't look like he was staying long, so I wasn't about to offer him any.

"The board is claiming you have posttraumatic stress," Obadiah continued. "They're filing an injunction."

"A what?"

"They're kicking you out, Tony," I explained, setting down a glass and taking the bottle from where my stump held it against my ribs, pouring him some. "That's what happens when you say something crazy the second you get back from dealing with some shit."

Obadiah winced at my curse and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Why? Because the stocks dipped forty points? We knew that was gonna happen."

"Fifty-six and a half," Pepper corrected.

"It doesn't matter. We hold the controlling interest in the company," Tony said sharply, and she went quiet as I huffed, pulling back his glass and earning a frown myself before I nodded to Pepper and he sighed. "Sorry."

I slid it back to him and he downed it as Obadiah pressed on.

"Tony, the board has rights too. They're making the case that you and your new direction isn't in the company's best interest."

"I'm being responsible! That's a new direction for me—for the company," he hastily corrected, though we all gave him looks. "I mean, me on the company's behalf. Being responsible for the way that…"

Pepper sighed as I whistled like a falling missile.

"Oh, this is great," he complained, standing up upon realizing neither of the two were on his side.

"Oh, come on. Tony. Tony."

Tony scooped up the pizza box. "I'll be in the shop. Kat? You coming?"

I shrugged to Pepper's pleading look and headed for the stairs, pausing at the top as Obadiah tried to stop him.

"I'm trying to turn this thing around, but you've gotta give me something. Something to pitch them." He pointed at Tony's chest piece and I felt something in me stir uncomfortably. "Let me have the engineers analyze that. You know, draw up some specs."

"No," Tony denied immediately as Obadiah argued the point.

"It'll give me a bone to throw the boys in New York!"

"No, absolutely not. This one stays with me. That's it, Obie. Forget it."

"All right, well this stays with me then," he said, taking the pizza as I eyed the two, but Obadiah opened the box. "Go on, here. You can have a piece. Take two."

"Thank you," Tony said, heading over towards me and waving me down.

"You mind if I come down there and see what you're doing?" Obadiah called out, but Tony bid him goodnight, dismissing him as we moved downstairs.

"I don't like him," I mused, shooting Tony a look as he input the code and raised a brow at me.

"Obie? I mean, we've been paired up for a long while. We bicker a bit, but he's decent."

"He's interested in your chest piece."

"So are you."

I rolled my eyes. "What I mean is, he's interested in selling it. I already said it wouldn't be used for anything other than weaponry if you hadn't stuck it in your chest to use as a power source. What do you think he's going to do with it?"

"Why do you think I shut down my company making weapons?"

"You mean, tried to shut it down? I do believe he just said they're getting rid of you because you want to shut it down."

"Look. I'm not giving it to him, so there's nothing he can do anyway, okay? Now, put this on."

I blinked down at the cloth he handed me, eyeing the sock-like black fabric. "Where?"

"Your nub… Stump? What do I call it? Arm? I mean, it's not completely—"

"Really?" I questioned blandly. "We're back to the arm comments?"

"What? I'm just getting clarification. Look. Just, just put it on."

I did, staring at the cloth for a second before looking back at him. "Now what?"

He smiled. "Nothing!"

"You've got ten seconds to explain before I punch you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down there, GI Jane. It's got neurological sensors in it, okay? I just want to see how much feeling you've still got in your little friend so that… maybe we can work something out for you."

I frowned. "I don't want your charity, Tony."

He rolled his eyes. "It's not charity. You're helping me with the suit, and it'd be nice to have four hands instead of three and a half. And your birthday's coming up, right? Think of it as an early birthday gift."

My eyes narrowed. "How did you know—"

"I hired you. Birthday is on the application. So, what do you say? Keep it on for a week, and I should have something for you to try out the following." He picked up a tool and waved it at me. "I might have to have you working overtime though. Two projects at once is a lot of work."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get your suit working first, shall we?"


I jerked upright, blinking wearily and trying to figure out what was happening. I spotted Tony hovering off the ground and yawned.

"Sorry. Are we doing flight testing again?"

"Really? We're doing big things here, Kat, and you're napping on the job?"

I raked my fingernails through my short-cropped hair with a grumble. "I signed up for security, remember? Not whatever this is."

"Do me a favor, yeah? Take over for Dum-E. I don't trust him with fire safety after the last time."

The robot whirred sadly, but I got up and took the fire extinguisher from it, eyeing Tony as he landed and tried again with more power. I watched him fumble about in the air, rather amused when he started to drift off the platform and towards his cars.

"Well, you're stable, so I suppose that's a plus," I commented as he winced, flying over the cars and then towards a table, scattering paperwork. "On the other hand, you really should have listened to me when I said flight testing should be done outside."

"Could be worse! Could be worse! We're fine! Okay," he rattled off, making it back to the landing pad and cutting the power, stumbling back when he was a little off his balance.

Just to be a pain, I sprayed him a little in the back with the fire extinguisher, earning a scowl.

"Really?"

"What?"

He rolled his eyes as he moved over to another platform and had paneling put onto his suit, picking up a mask. "You know, if I wanted sass, I'd have dragged Pepper down here."

I snorted, not believing him for a second. "Whatever you say, Tin Can."

"Hey. I can fly, you know."

I waved him off. "And I'm oh-so impressed. I did tell you this, didn't I? I like the tech but I'm not exactly excited about some flying suit of armor." I set down the extinguisher. "It's like those small cars the Italians invented. No one wants to get in an accident in those things because it'll be like a trash compactor. This?" I rapped a knuckle on his chest, earning a raised brow. "Sure, it'll impress people, but it'll also scare them. Someone's gonna try making something to knock it out of the sky."

"Except no one's intelligent enough to figure it out, so, no issue."

I sighed. "Again with the narcissism. You're not the only genius, Tony. And if they can't figure it out on their own, they'll just steal it instead. It's how the world works."

"Remind me to get you in for some therapy or something. You're such a Debby Downer, Kat. Have a little fun! Tell you what. I'm gonna take her out for a little spin. Everything goes well, dinner's on me."

I sighed. "If you get taken out by an airplane turbine, I'm not attending your funeral."

"Ouch, first off," he pouted, allowing his suit to do the necessary checks before he would leave. "And second, I'll be checking ATC and listening in to ground control, so no planes."

"Mm, right. Have fun, I guess."

"Stay out of the liquor cabinet," he demanded, making me roll my eyes. "Jarvis, give her a nice camera view once I'm out."

Jarvis began to complain about the safety of him rushing off before diagnostics, but—same old Tony—he didn't care and took off out the garage door. I lifted my hand in a wave before heading over to said alcohol cabinet and looking through what he had.

"Handles like a dream, Kat."

"Uh-huh," I replied to him, glancing over my shoulder to see the night view of the California coast and shaking my head before pulling out a bottle and eyeing the label.

"Are you defiantly digging through the very cabinet I told you to stay out of?"

"You're not my commander," I mused. "And you said you were getting dinner this time. Surely I can pick out the drinks."

"Cheeky, you are. When did you get to be so cheeky?"

"Been hanging around you for too long. I've been sarcastic for a long time, but you always seem to make me do a little extra to get my words through your thick skull."

"Well, how about we see what this thing can do. What's SR-71's record?"

Jarvis replied as I tried to understand what he was planning on testing. "The altitude record for fixed-wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir."

"Records are made to be broken. Come on!"

"Oh, you're an absolute fool," I huffed, downing the scotch I'd poured and getting a second glass since he seemed adamant about flying up to his death.

After a second, the hologram of his camera view glitched out, disappearing and I hesitated.

"Tony?"

Silence echoed back and I curse under my breath, hurrying over to the computer and trying my luck at bringing back the view or getting information.

"Jarvis, what's going on?"

"Mr. Stark had a potentially fatal build-up of ice that shorted out my systems in his suit."

"Altitude? Location? Give me something!" I spat, searching before the hologram finally flickered back to life, showing me the headlights of a car before Tony pulled up with a cheer.

I sagged into a hair with a heavy breath, glaring at the screen as he approached the mansion and went to land on the roof. "I'll kill him."

I didn't have to though, because he fell through two floors and back down into the basement the second he'd killed the power. Car alarms went off and I headed over to the crushed blue vehicle he'd landed on as Dum-E sprayed him down with the fire extinguisher for no reason.

"Proud of yourself?" I snipped as he took off the faceplate and winced, beginning to climb off his car.

"Well, I nearly broke a record and have a few adjustments, but honestly? That was a hell of a lot of fun."

Go figure. I scoffed, turning away. "Don't know how Pepper deals with your bullshit."

"Why? What's up?"

"Not you, obviously," I said shortly, pouring another glass and setting it down to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Piece of shit."

"Hold on. Were you… Were you worried?" He asked, removing his suit and heading over as I scowled.

"Like hell I was."

"No, you were, weren't you?" He smirked smugly. "Big, scary Kat was worried about little old me."

I whipped towards him with a snarl. "I said I fucking wasn't."

"Yeah, why is it I don't believe that? Jarvis?"

"Miss Summer's heart rate had greatly increased during the moment that my system went down and—"

"Ooh, see? Heart rate increase," he purred, grabbing my wrist from where I'd gone to shove him as I bared my teeth. "Just admit it, Kat. You cared."

A million and one snarky comments and curse words flew through my mind, but for whatever reason, my mouth wouldn't open up and say them. All I could think about was the heartbeat in my ears and the feeling of panic when I suddenly didn't know if he was falling to his death because I didn't try to stop him. Then came the gunfire, the explosions, the feeling of blood slipping through my fingers as I pressed down on a wound that I knew could have been prevented if I'd just told Fallon that I loved him and he didn't have to go on that stupid mission for me.

And like that, the ice water had poured through me and I pulled my hand away from a silent, confused Tony. I turned around and left the lab, hating that my hand was shaking, and my breaths were coming out uneven. If Tony even tried to come after me, I didn't notice as I pulled on my jacket and began my rushed late-night walk back home.


Tony sat surrounded by his monitors after giving Jarvis an update as to what to work on, sipping his drink and turning to another monitor that held the mechanical workings of another project of his. The diagram of the arm seemed complete and he pushed away from the desk to where the actual thing lay, picking it up and checking it over with a small sigh. He'd meant to show it to her once he'd finished his test flight. Get it fitted and see what she thought. Instead, she'd run off and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Sure, maybe his teasing got out of hand. There had already been a few instances when he'd taken a step too far, but this felt different. It felt like he was missing something.

"Jarvis, what's Kat's military background? Show me."

"Of course, sir."

Multiple images and files appeared and the longer he read, the worse he felt. At least two of her squadrons had been wiped out before their incident in Afghanistan, and she'd been forced into the position of a medic a number of times for other squadrons as well. Her missions had nearly always been completed successfully but at the cost of lives or severe injuries to others. A few had caused her to be injured, but none ever lasting more than a few months of recovery. Then came the redacted files. It took a little digging, but he felt ice run through his veins when he managed to dig them up.

She'd been in special ops, running as a sniper with a Michael Fallon as her spotter. They'd done numerous missions and successful hits until an incident when Fallon had been shot by an enemy rifle while protecting her. He had died on the trip back after they spent a week trekking through the desert villages to return to a safe zone. She'd carried his corpse all the way back home.

From there, the reports became colder, more revealing on a side of her that he'd been seeing hints of up until now. She'd started doing solo missions, undercover ops, anything to keep away from others. Her medical files showed PTSD and survivor's guilt listed as possible weaknesses and suicidal tendencies. It wasn't until near the time that he'd shown up that her commanding officer began to pull her back to do work closer at home. She'd been moved to training recruits, doing escorts, and taking squads out to check the roads for incoming and outgoing supply routes.

Then, came the anger. He found a report for her escort mission of him, labeling him as MIA and her as a possible AWOL. He continued to flip through the file until he found her discharge paperwork and he threw his glass across the room in his frustration. He hadn't known it had come down to that. That she'd gotten no credit for helping him, only admonishments and reprimands for not contacting the military the first second she could. He sank back down into his chair and dropped his face into his hands.

This was someone cold, calculated and so cut off from the world and everyone in it that she'd not once smiled or laughed since he'd brought her into his home on a whim. Someone who was always angry and bitter and sarcastic. He could catch hints of it though, of the woman tucked away underneath. He'd seen how she enjoyed a relaxing night of scotch and movies. How almost peaceful she was when she finally did get enough sleep—something he realized she'd only done in front of him and for a few hours in the lab. And now, he understood why.

Why she held that closed exterior, why she rarely slept, and the constant blame on herself for, not just the squad in the Humvee, but for all the deaths before that. He wondered how much hate she'd received from the families of those fallen soldiers, or from the injured soldiers themselves. He wondered if she ever went to see them at the hospitals or medical tents and just stood there all blank-faced as they screamed profanities and cursed her for what had been done to them. Then, he thought of how it would have felt to finally be prepared to leave, have to deal with his mess, and then get no recognition for her efforts. Not a single medal or thanks from the military. Just take your things and leave.

To make things worse, he knew she was kind. As much as she was adamant about denying it, she had chased after him in the desert with nothing but the clothes on her back. She'd done so with the whole intention of saving him from whatever fate he was in. And she hadn't even known for certain if he was alive! Yet, she put aside all her selfish wants and needs and went after him.

He never did find out how she was dealing with missing an arm. Sure, he joked about it often, getting eye rolls in return. But how hard must it have been to wake up in the middle of the desert in a foreign country and realize that your hand was just gone from the elbow down? Yet, she had done it and powered through it, and not once complained when he made comments. He did it to try and cheer her up. He was determined to get a smile or laugh out of her one day. It was why he'd started to make this for her.

It wasn't much of a surprise. She had an inkling of what he was planning, but he made sure the actual building of it was done when she wasn't around—covering it up when she was. He couldn't quite explain it though, what drew him to her. Sure, perhaps she was just a unique puzzle he wanted to figure out. And, as he'd told her, he really did enjoy her bluntness. She always said what was on her mind about him, though never about herself unless he pressed too hard. He wasn't sure what he did this time.

"Jarvis, play back our conversation."

Jarvis did and he thought over the words for a while before it began to make sense, and he groaned.

"Oh, now I've done it," he murmured. "She was right. I am a piece of shit."

He'd worried her—yet another sign that she wasn't as heartless as she appeared. But he'd also made her remember all those other people who had worried her. He made her remember what it was like to be scared that someone she knew was going to die. He pushed up from the chair, moving around his monitors and giving the little display case Pepper had dropped off a look. Proof that Tony Stark has a heart.

"Shame I don't use it as often as I should. Jarvis, have Happy prepare the car and—" He stopped, looking over at the television that had been playing news about some red-carpet event unnoticed, until now.

"Tonight's red-hot red carpet is right here at the Disney Concert Hall, where Tony Stark's third annual benefit for the Firefighter's Family Fund has become the place to be for L.A.'s high society."

"Jarvis, we get an invite for that?"

"I have no record of an invitation, sir."

"Some claim he's suffering from posttraumatic stress and has been bedridden for weeks. Whatever the case may be, no one expects an appearance from him tonight," the television continued before Jarvis made another announcement.

"The render is complete."

Tony looked over at it and hummed. "A little ostentatious, don't you think?"

"What was I thinking? You're usually so discreet."

"Tell you what. Throw a little hot-rod red in there."

"Yes, that should help you keep a low profile. The render is complete."

"Hey, I like it. Fabricate it. Paint it."

"Commencing automated assembly. Estimated completion time is five hours."

"Don't wait up for me, honey."

"Shall I get Mr. Hogan to bring the car around?"

"Nah, I think I'll drive myself. I might need security though. How upset do you think Kat will be when I show up at her place?"

"Rather angry, I would think, sir."

"Perfect."


I scowled at Tony as I towel-dried my hair and he smiled on my doorstep. "No."

"Oh, come on. I apologized!" He whined, shoving his finely polished shoe in the doorway before I could close it.

"And you're also up to something since you've come here in a suit, carrying another."

He slipped in the door as I moved back to the sofa and paused the movie I'd just started.

"So, speak."

He was more busy looking around, humming before finally getting to the point. "There's a red-carpet event—"

"No."

"Let me finish! Busy party. You never know who might be there. I could need security."

I shot him a bland look, draping my arm across the back of my sofa. "You want to drag me to a party, famous enough to have its own security, dress me up in a suit, and for what exactly?"

He shrugged. "Fun?"

"Tony, that's hardly what I consider fun."

"And what do you consider fun?"

I opened my mouth, before closing it. I'd remembered what I thought was fun before the army… before the death and explosions and fire. Now? The only thing that came to mind was shooting, working out, and sleeping. Tony didn't seem to mind, and for once, I appreciated the fact that he was tactful enough to not comment or make an expression of sympathy when I remained silent and looked away towards the window of my balcony. Tony leaned over the sofa on my other side, draping the suit bag over the couch.

"I am sorry for before," he muttered.

"It's fine."

"No. It wasn't fine. I know you handle my teasing better than most, but I'm pretty sure it was obvious I upset you, so I'm apologizing."

"Why the party then?" I turned towards him and froze when our noses brushed.

I hadn't realized how close he was and neither one of us moved for a long moment before he stood upright, smiling as though nothing had happened.

"Mostly to show off that I'm fine and not struggling under the grips of crippling PTSD."

"No, you're just up to your neck in a project that no one's allowed to know about to hide from your PTSD," I countered, a bit sharper than I intended as I was trying to ignore the way my heart had started working double-time since our noses brushed.

"There's the cheek I remember," he teased, unbothered by my comment or taking it as a way to even our score after I'd run out earlier. "So? Will you, Katherine Summers, do me the honor of being my security at this high-end party?"

I gave him an annoyed look, standing. "You're an absolute prick, I hope you know that."

"Is that a yes?"

I grabbed the suit and waved my stump towards the door. "Shut up and go wait in the car."