If he'd had any idea how much the battle with Loki and Doom would change his life, Tony Stark would have made sure to change his outfit first.

As it was, he entered the battle wearing an old wifebeater and ripped jeans under the armour, along with a liberal coating of grease and motor oil.

The two magical sometime-nemeses-but-current-allies had apparently fallen out again as they were fighting over the Cosmic Cube.

Though, oddly, they were trying to keep it away not from the other, but themselves.

"Don't let the Cube touch you," ordered Wong, one of the sorcerers that was on their side. Apparently Dr Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, was off in another dimension and couldn't make it.

"Don't touch the ping-pong Cube, got it," Tony replied, rolling his eyes. Honestly, he'd thought Strange was an ass; he'd obviously taken lessons from Wong. "It'd be a lot easier if they'd stop throwing it!" he added, barely avoiding the Cube soaring through the air in a wave of green magic.

"What happens if my shield or one of Hawkeye's arrows hits it?" Captain America asked. Just from the sound of his voice, Tony was sure his brow was furrowed in concern.

"Most likely an explosion capable of obliterating the entirety of North America," said Wong, dryly. "So don't hit it."

There was a pause and then a weak, "Got it," from Captain America before the shield went bouncing off in the opposite direction from the Cube.

Some blocks away, Hank Pym shot up into the air behind Loki, obviously aiming to grab him, but had to rapidly shrink again when Doom sent the Cube back on a wave of liquid silver and Loki abruptly vanished.

"This is ridiculous," Tony complained. "How are we supposed to stop them if we can't get close to the Cube?"

"We're working on it. Have patience, Stark," one of the other sorcerers told him. Tony grimaced behind the safety of his helmet. He got on even worse with Baron Mordo, Strange's second in command, than he did with Dr Strange himself.

He'd just opened his mouth to make another sarcastic remark whilst firing a repulsor at Doom when everything suddenly happened at once. The Cube – heading back towards Doom – began to glow brighter, and Doom threw up a protective layer of silver, reflecting Tony's repulsor beam straight into the Cube.

"Shit!" Tony yelped.

The Cube abruptly stopped moving and hung in the air, its glow getting ominously brighter in regular pulses. Orange mandalas from the sorcerers began to form around it but were swiftly overpowered. Captain America's shield, which had been on its way back to him, paused in mid-air, quivering, before reversing direction and flying towards the Cube.

The comms echoed with shouts of dismay and calls for Tony to get out of the way but, despite his best efforts, his suit wouldn't move any further away. It was as if the Cube was magnetised.

The Cube was getting brighter and brighter, until even in his helmet Tony was squinting. Then, with one last pulse, the light exploded, and Tony was consumed by a flood of blue-tinged white.

The world vanished.

A sharp poke brought it back, and Tony jerked in protest. "Ow!" he objected, and then had a brief thought as to why his suit hadn't protected him.

"He's alive!" a voice said with surprise.

"Are you sure?" a second one asked, and something jabbed him again.

"Ow!" he objected, again, and opened his eyes to frown upwards. "Yes, 'he's' alive, thank you very much. What the hell kind of corpse says 'ow'?"

A group of men wearing old fashioned army uniforms were staring down at him. "One with gas?" the one holding a stick suggested.

Tony turned his frown specifically on this man. "Have experience with that, do you?" he asked.

"He has experience in a lot of things," said another man in a distinctly French accent, and the entire group laughed, including the stick-wielder.

"Hmm, well, he doesn't have experience with me," Tony said. "So if he could refrain from poking at me anymore, I'd appreciate it." He waited for the inevitable dick joke but, oddly, it didn't – hah – come.

"If he's alive, what are we going to do with 'im, Sarge?" someone else, looking barely old enough to shave, asked.

"He could be a Kraut," another suggested.

"He don't look like one," objected another.

Tony scowled harder at them all, but as he was about to say something, the man with the stick held up a hand, and everyone fell silent.

"Whatever he is or isn't, he's apparently been injured, so we'll take him back to camp, sew him up and then see what's what," the man said.

Puzzled, Tony began to shift his head to look down himself but froze as a sharp, bright pain darted down his neck at the slight movement. He bit back a whimper. Yep, that was an injury, alright.

The man who was apparently Sarge began directing the other men. Two of them hauled Tony carefully to his feet and slung his arms over their shoulders. They all but carried him as the group moved off.

Despite the blinding agony shooting through his head, Tony still managed to notice that they were travelling through thick forest. Where on earth did the Cube drop me? he wondered. He tried using his Extremis to connect to a local network but came up blank. They must be even further from civilisation than he thought.

So it was much more of a shock when they came out of the trees onto a road that led straight to a decent-sized town.

"Where the fuck are we?" he gasped out when another Extremis probe failed to find anything.

"Some little place just over the French border in Belgium," said the guy on his left, rather breathlessly. "Name's unpronounceable."

"You mean you can't pronounce it," countered the guy on the right. "The rest of us manage just fine."

Unfortunately, this still didn't answer Tony's question, and he only gained more of them as they advanced through the clearly army-occupied town. Tony had visited his friend Rhodey on enough bases to recognise them when he saw them, even if things were a lot more rustic than he expected.

He was assisted into what appeared to be an actual hospital building, and left in a room painted a faded mint green. Several other men in varying states of injury were also waiting, although Tony was positive that one of them was already dead. The man named Sarge chivvied the rest out and gave Tony a hasty two-fingered salute before following them.

Tony leant his head gingerly back against the wall and tried to breathe away the fast

-approaching panic attack. The Cube had dropped him somewhere far from home and he'd need all of his not inconsiderable wits to get himself back.

After an unsuccessful third attempt to find a network – any network – it finally occurred to Tony to wonder why Extremis hadn't already healed him. He tended to heal even faster than Captain America these days, so he shouldn't still be feeling as though his head could drop off.

He closed his eyes and reached into his mind for where the core of Extremis now resided.

There was nothing there.

Shocked, Tony's eyes flew open and he straightened in his chair, desperately reaching again, sure he had to be wrong. Extremis was part of his DNA now – it couldn't just disappear! Glancing down, he made a fist, trying to call some of the armour out.

His hand remained stubbornly armourless.

Tony frowned. No Extremis and no nanobots. Just what the hell had that Cube done to him?

"Hello there." A perky female voice made him jump, and Tony looked up to see a woman in an army nurse's uniform standing in front of him. "Apparently you've hurt your head?"

An automatic rakish smile curved his lips, although Tony didn't really find her attractive enough to seriously flirt with. "Well, I'm currently looking at an angel," he said to the nurse. "So I must have."

She rolled her eyes, obviously having heard it all before. "Definitely a concussion," she said, and several of the other man listening in chuckled. Tony gave them a rueful smile and a shrug. "Come on, up you get," the nurse continued. "Any problems walking? Sarge said his men had to carry you in."

Wondering when, precisely, 'Sarge' had had a chance to say that, Tony carefully levered himself up onto his feet. He wobbled enough that the nurse made a grab for him, looking alarmed, but he at least managed to remain balanced on his own two feet. Once he was certain he was balanced, he grinned at the nurse.

"This way then," she said, gesturing for him to precede her. No doubt, Tony realised, so she had a chance to grab him if he suddenly went ass over ears.

The examination was at least quick, if not quite painless. Wherever they were, they were apparently running out of the good drugs, and since Extremis had fucked off, he could really do with them. Christ, he didn't even remember the last injury he'd had that hadn't healed in seconds.

At least they were generous with the anti-septic, so he wasn't at risk of losing anything to gangrene.

"All done," the nurse said cheerfully. "You're free to go."

Relieved that they weren't trying to make him stay, Tony hastily stood up – and then just as hastily sat back down again. "Head rush," he explained, sheepishly. He made a second, more successful, attempt. "Thanks," he remembered to add. "Best nurse I've ever had. Ten out of ten, no, twenty out of ten, will definitely recommend to everyone." A bright trill of laughter followed him out of the room.

Once he got outside the building, though, he had to lean against the wall, and not just because he was unsteady on his feet again. He just didn't have a clue where to go now.

"You're looking slightly more alive," said someone as they came to a halt beside Tony.

"If you've come to poke at my corpse some more, then I'm sorry to disappoint," Tony told 'Sarge'. "But I'm pretty sure there's a fresh one in there." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the building behind.

Sarge grimaced. "Enough on the front lines, thanks," he said, then offered a hand. "Sergeant James Barnes, at your service."

The man would never know the effort it took Tony to bite back a suggestive reply to that remark, but he had a feeling it might not be well received. "Tony Stark," he said instead. Look at him, learning diplomacy. Cap would be so proud of him…

Barnes frowned, thoughtfully. "Stark?" he repeated. "Any relation to Howard Stark?"

Tony snorted. "Yeah, you could say so," he agreed. Not that he did. Or tried not to, at any rate.

"I guess in that case he'll be real interested in meeting ya," Barnes said.

Wait, what?

Before he could even begin to process that, he received another shock in the form of a very familiar figure walking up behind Barnes.

"Bucky, there you are," said Captain America to Barnes. "Peg and the Colonel are ready to brief us."

Tony gaped at his teammate, who hadn't even looked at him, let alone shown any concern for the aftermath of the battle with Doom and Loki.

"Comin', Stevie," Barnes assured him. "See you around, Stark."

"Stark?" he heard Cap say as the pair strode off without a backwards glance. "Related to Howard?"

What the hell did that Cube fucking do to me?

What the Cube had done, Tony learnt over the next day or so, was throw him not just far from home but also far from his time, which wasn't a property anyone had realised the Cube possessed. Unless it was due to something magical that Loki or Doom had done, in which case Tony was royally screwed.

Not that he wasn't already, of course.

He'd had to beg a bunk from Colonel Phillips, commander of this camp, and had been put in with the 107th. The infamous Howling Commandos. Captain America's unit.

And wasn't that just another kick in the balls? Cap was right here, but Tony couldn't ask for help because he didn't know Tony yet. Didn't know anything about magic, the Avengers, or Iron Man. Hell, he was young enough that he was still getting used to his new strength, despite the practice he should have gotten whilst doing the USO tours.

So, with limited options, Tony was trying to settle himself in for a long haul. It was harder than it sounded, not least because there was still no sign of his Extremis. He hadn't realised just how thoroughly he'd integrated with it until he continually reached for it and found it missing. And he kept forgetting that this was 1941; there was so much that hadn't been invented yet. That first day, before he'd discovered the truth, he'd asked to use someone's phone and had been utterly flummoxed when he was told only Colonel Phillips had one of them new-fangled things.

The Howling Commandos – the men who'd brought him in – were off on some mission to rescue a Resistance fighter from Nazi clutches, which meant there was nobody in the barracks to witness his panic attacks that first night as his situation and how dire it was slowly sank in.

"Hear you're being seconded to us for the foreseeable future," Barnes greeted him when they returned, thankfully all unscathed. "Lost your own unit?"

"Something like that," Tony agreed, and tried not to think of just how lost they were. "Problem?"

Barnes eyed him up and down. "Not as long as you can keep up," he said, frankly. "Remember your way around a gun?"

"With my eyes closed," said Tony.

Immediately, hoots and catcalls sounded from the other Commandos, and Barnes raised an eyebrow lazily. "Really?" he drawled. "Care to prove it?"

Tony's impulse control had never been very strong, so he didn't even hesitate before agreeing. Ten minutes later, he and Barnes were sitting on either side of a table in the mess hall, several guns laid out between them, and more than just the Commandos crowded around them.

One of them produced a length of fabric – Tony very carefully didn't wonder where from – and fastened it round Tony's head, securely over his eyes.

"How many fingers?" someone else asked, the air moving as he leant around Tony. Tony held up just one finger – his middle one – and everyone laughed. "Okay then – go!"

Tony carefully felt in front of himself and picked up the first gun he encountered. He took a moment to run his hands over it. He'd never dealt with this particular type, but he'd worked with enough similar that he was confident in his movements as he briskly stripped the gun, waited a moment, and then just as swiftly reassembled it before sitting back triumphantly.

There was a stunned silence around him, and then cheers broke out. Tugging off the blindfold, he saw Barnes gaping at him, his own gun held loosely and all but forgotten. "We good?" he asked.

Barnes visibly pulled himself together, and a slow smile crept over his mouth. "Definitely good," he replied, snapping the last piece into place before holding out a hand to Tony.

Tony shook it and grinned round at everyone. This would be a doddle.

This is not a doddle!

Another mortar went screaming overhead and landed in a patch of mud behind one of the trenches. It promptly exploded, showering the men ducking in the trench with clods of soggy earth. Somewhere to Tony's right came the clatter of gunfire as the German troops attempted to follow the bomb. Orders were being yelled down the line, but Tony couldn't hear them over all the noise.

"Mask on!" Barnes practically fell over him and shouted directly in his face to be heard. "Masks on! They're using the gas again!" He shoved away from Tony and lurched towards the next soldier along.

Tony scrambled with one hand to put his gas mask on. He'd heard plenty of terrible stories about mustard gas, but the reality was even more horrifying. And with Extremis still missing – what the hell had the Cosmic Cube done with it? – he didn't want to risk getting dosed.

Yet another shell screamed its arrival but this time it hit the buttress of Tony's trench. Everyone in the vicinity ducked, and the thing exploded in a cloud of murky yellow. One soldier who hadn't managed to get his mask on in time screamed and began clawing at his eyes, which were already streaming with tears.

Tony winced but couldn't do anything, as shapes abruptly materialised through the gas above the trench. The Germans had arrived.

Unfortunately for them, the gas hadn't incapacitated as many of the Allies as they'd hoped for, and the shapes were met with a hail of gunfire. It didn't stop them from firing back, though, and one man beside Tony dropped without a sound. Another one went down with a loud cry of pain, clutching the top of his leg where blood was spurting. Artery shot, Tony realised. And with no-one able to do a tourniquet, the man was dead within seconds.

It seemed like hours, or even days, before the all-clear was being called. The 107th grimly hauled the bodies of their comrades out of the trench and retreated towards their temporary camp. Young soldiers – barely more than boys – were stationed around large cauldrons, handing out cups of water and weak broth to the soldiers straggling past them. Nurses bustled around the medical tents, seeing to those injured who had been lucky enough to make it back.

Tony sat heavily on a log outside his tent. Tales of the war hadn't done it justice, and the battles he'd been in as Iron Man didn't come close. He'd thought he was going to piss himself when he'd heard his first mortar shell, and when he'd killed his first German, less than five feet away, he'd come damn close to throwing up.

"Here." A hand holding a cup appeared in front of his eyes. "Coffee. Weak, shitty coffee, but still."

Tony's gaze went up the arm to meet the Frenchman, Dernier's, gaze. "Thanks," he said, hoarsely, taking the cup with surprisingly steady hands.

Slowly, the rest of the Commandos trickled back to their little section of camp. Tony hadn't been really worried – he knew they came through – but it was still a relief to see them all return relatively uninjured.

Barnes sank down beside Tony and accepted his own mug of shitty coffee. He downed it all in one go, then shuddered dramatically. "Ugh," he said. "Who pissed in that?" Dernier aimed a kick at him as the rest laughed. "Least we get a rest for a bit," he continued. "Krauts have retreated. Brass reckon they won't be back until at least tomorrow."

The news was greeted by muted cheers.

"How bad was it?" Tony asked under cover of the noise.

Barnes grimaced but didn't look at Tony. "Six dead," he replied grimly. "Four wounded enough to take them home, another three less wounded. And Wilson was the only one gassed."

And for all it sounded bad, this had been one of the better tallies.

A sudden stir of commotion made them look over. Captain America was striding towards them, nodding and greeting others as he passed but not stopping. Tony felt a jolt of recognition. That was Steve's 'Avenger' face. He sat up straighter in anticipation. Something big was about to happen.

Steve came to a stop in front of Tony and Barnes and thrust a piece of paper at him. "Bucky, you and these men are to report to Colonel Phillips first thing in the morning."

"Ooh, called before the principal," taunted Tony, unable to help himself. Steve gave him a dismissive glance, and ouch, that hurt.

"On behalf of the SSR, Peggy has requested our help," Steve continued. "We're going to be seconded to them as a mobile unit."

"Their very own attack dogs," Tony said to himself, under his breath.

"We?" Barnes asked at the same moment.

Steve grinned at him. "They want me to create a team," he explained, and nodded at the paper Barnes still hadn't opened. "I hope you're in, Buck, 'cos you were my first choice."

Oh, holy shit! Tony barely stopped himself from gaping. I'm watching the formation of the Howling Commandos!

Barnes thoughtfully spun the paper through his fingers. "Well, if Captain America says so…" he drawled, but a smile took any sting from the words. "Sure, Stevie, I'll follow you anywhere. 'Til the end of the line, right?"

"'Til the end of the line," agreed Steve. "Inform the others. We meet at six." He didn't wait for any acknowledgement from Barnes but instead turned and all but marched away.

"Guess you've got an early start," Tony remarked.

Barnes smirked at him. "You, too," he said. "You're on the list."

He blinked, then blinked again. "What?" He wasn't Howling Commandos material – Steve had made that very clear the first time they'd met, and they hadn't interacted enough to change that impression this time around. He'd been expecting to stay with the rest of the 107th until he managed to finally get home, or a Kraut bullet killed him.

"As if we'd leave you behind," said Barnes. "You're our corpse now." He grinned at Tony, a full-on one that made his entire face light up with mischievous joy, and Tony's heart gave an extra hard thump.

Oh boy. I'm in trouble now.

When he stumbled his way into the briefing at far too early the next morning, he realised there was someone else he'd overlooked. Stood at attention at the front of the room was Peggy Carter – SSR member, Captain America's girl… and Howard Stark's co-founder of SHIELD.

He felt a brief surge of hope, before realising that the SSR was focusing on trying to recreate the Super Soldier serum right now. They wouldn't even find the Cosmic Cube until two years from now, and then there'd only be another two years until it killed Red Skull and disappeared into the Arctic with Steve.

He was in such a funk that he completely zoned out for the first part of the briefing. In fact, it wasn't until he received a sharp elbow in the ribs from Dugan that he realised Peggy was standing in front of him, her arms folded and scowling at him. He gave her a weak smile and slid down in his seat.

"As I was saying," she said, pointedly, as she returned to the front of the room. "We've received word that some of the Nazi scientists are working on some kind of project similar to Erskine's formula. Obviously, we want to avoid them succeeding. Their lead scientist is a man from Switzerland called Armin Zola…"

HYDRA! Tony realised as a picture of the weaselly-looking man was projected onto the wall. Zola, if he remembered right, had been one of the literal geniuses looking into the Super Soldier serum, and had been brought over to the US after the war. He'd actually managed to turn himself into an AI after being diagnosed with terminal cancer.

Which brought up a thought Tony had been trying not to have. He was in the past; how much effect did his actions here have on his home back in the present – uh, the future? And if he wasn't even in his own timeline – since the last he'd heard, Steve's sidekick Bucky Barnes had been a kid, and this Barnes definitely… wasn't – then he couldn't even begin to guess at any ramifications.

He startled at the sound of chairs scraping. It appeared that he'd missed the rest of the briefing, too, as the Commandos were beginning to file out of the room, discussing logistics as they went.

"You okay?" Barnes asked as Tony stood up. "You seemed to be thinkin' awfully hard."

"Just a problem that I can't really resolve," Tony admitted. "Did I miss anything important?"

Barnes snorted and hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Peggy. "Pissed the dame right off," he observed. "Hope your grovelling's up to scratch." Then he straightened as Peggy strode towards them with Steve trailing behind her like a lost puppy. "Ma'am," he said, touching a finger to his temple in a respectful gesture.

Peggy glared at him. "Sergeant. Dismissed!" she snapped. Barnes, the coward, hauled ass towards the door as Peggy turned her glare on Tony. "I realise," she began in icy tones, "that I might not have been who you expected to give this briefing, but that doesn't mean that I understand it any less than, say, Colonel Phillips—"

"What?" Tony was baffled for a moment, but then, "Oh! No, nonono!" He waved his hands in front of himself to dismiss that idea. "No, that's not it at all. I'm sorry, really I am, I was just… stuck on a particular problem of mine."

"Hmm." Peggy gave him a sceptical look but was thankfully prevented from interrogating him any further by the Colonel's arrival. Tony seized his chance and escaped from the room.

Running special missions with the Commandos was a lot different than being with their regular unit. Tony had no idea why he was surprised by that, but he was, and it wasn't just the lack of bombs falling on their heads.

James – as Barnes had become – was a master strategist, and Tony could see his hand all over the plays his Captain America used in the future. He was also a lover of all things sci-fi, and he and Tony lost hours talking about robots and what life might be like in the future. Tony had to be careful not to sound too certain of his 'guesses', and to not laugh too hard at James'.

Another difference was the lack of 'proper' facilities. Now, Tony had no problems seeing good-looking men strip off – and God knows he'd seen Cap naked enough when they had to use decontamination showers – but seeing the smooth skin of James' back made heat pool uncomfortably in his belly and he always had to turn his head for fear of his gaze giving him away.

Because this was 1941; people looked the other way in the army – because men needed the stress relief, after all – but two men actively being together and in lust? Yeah, not happening. Tony didn't really care about himself, since he still had minor hopes that someone from his end would come and rescue him, but James was another matter. He would care.

Still, that didn't stop his dreams from being populated with one James Barnes in a whole range of poses that would put a lingerie model to shame. It made Tony miss his Extremis even more because, if he'd still had it, he could have saved some of those images to return to at a later date.

And things were absolutely not helped by James accidentally walking in on him one day, when he'd been made absolutely frantic by the sight of James bared to the waist and sweating after they'd been moving supplies all morning, and casually offering to lend Tony 'a hand'.

Although he hadn't turned that down. He was cautious, not stupid.

But by the time Christmas 1942 rolled around, he had to admit that he might be just a little bit stupid. Because Tony had only gone and fallen in love with the man.

And from the looks James gave him every time they were alone, then he rather thought the feeling might be mutual.

"We move out tomorrow," James said one night in December. "Steve got word that there's a HYDRA stronghold setting up shop nearby. Buncha us goin' to go and root 'em out."

Tony nodded, his head still resting on James' shoulder. "Straws went 'round before dinner," he murmured. "I'm not going. But you'll be careful, right?"

"Course," said James reassuringly. "Aren't I always?"

"Hmm… I seem to remember a story that involved a sapling tree and a very deep river—" Tony broke off with a strangled sound as James poked him in the side, before rolling completely on top of the other man.

Tony gazed up into smoky-grey eyes, unable to help the soft, soppy smile he knew he had to be wearing. He reached up and ran the nails of one hand over the back of James' neck. James shivered, then flinched.

"Need to cut your nails there," he informed Tony.

"Whenever we find a place with scissors," Tony agreed. He paused. "Jamie…" he began, softly.

James stiffened. "Don't," he said, brusquely, and rolled off Tony.

Tony regretted the loss of his warmth but didn't try to pull the other man back. It had been a stupid impulse, one he'd known James wouldn't react well to, but he'd hoped that they'd been together long enough that they could at least dance around the subject.

But James had the sensibilities of this time and was terrified that they'd be discovered doing more than just 'lending a hand' and get drummed out of the army as 'deviants'.

Afterglow thoroughly gone, Tony lay quietly – and sleeplessly – for the remainder of the night.

For the billionth time, Tony wished he hadn't been such a coward.

The group that had gone after HYDRA had been gone for three weeks now, which was a week longer than expected. Tony had discovered that he didn't sleep well without James in the next bunk, and the anxiety and sleep deprivation was making him snappy and irritable. The remaining squad had started giving him a wide berth.

So it took a while before he learnt about the soldier that had stumbled back into camp half dead.

"It was an ambush," one of the squad told Tony grimly. "None dead – yet – but they've all been taken to some kind of scientist camp called Azzano."

Tony went absolutely cold. They hadn't managed to catch Armin Zola yet, and the most horrendous tales about his 'experiments' were whispered around their campfires. If Zola had captured the Howling Commandos…

"When's the rescue?" he asked, numbly.

There was an awkward pause, and Tony looked up into sympathetic eyes. "We aren't," he was informed. "Brass called us back to the main headquarters."

The numbness was obliterated by a sudden flood of burning rage, and for once Tony was glad he didn't still have Extremis, otherwise the camp would be an inferno by now.

He was still rational enough to realise that the brass couldn't bother sending men after ones that were likely as good as dead already. It didn't mean he had to like it, though.

And he liked it less over the next month as the remaining Commandos were sent on missions and vague rumours trickled back to them about the atrocities at Azzano.

The thought of James being hurt and scared was driving Tony insane. He wanted, desperately, to go and rescue him but couldn't.

Captain America, however, could.

Not that Tony realised he had until he triumphantly led a parade of injured soldiers back into the main camp. Tony joined the cheers, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the figure hovering at Captain America's left shoulder. James was gaunt, his skin grey and drawn tight over his bones, his eyes sunken and bruised.

Despite that, he looked gorgeous to Tony.

It was several hours before Tony managed to get him alone, drawing him into the forest surrounding the camp where the thick snow still carpeted the ground untrampled. James went almost passively, but his hand was clutching tightly at Tony's sleeve.

Once they were far enough away that they could barely tell where the camp was, Tony turned and immediately hugged James. He buried his face in James' neck and inhaled, finally able to relax. God, he had missed James, been so worried that their last time together had been awkward and uncomfortable instead of something to take comfort in.

"Thank God you're back," he murmured into James' ear. "Missed you, Jamie."

James hadn't been relaxed before, but now he stiffened even more and struggled to back out of Tony's arms. "Don't…" he warned, his eyes darting round them.

"James, there's no one here but us," Tony tried to soothe him. "It's okay; we're alone."

"What if someone's hiding, or stumbles over us?" said James, hoarsely. "We can't risk it. I won't!"

"James…" Tony reached out, but the other man ducked away from him. Tony let his hands fall as his spirits sank.

And then he felt a tugging sensation in the back of his mind.

It rapidly spread until he felt as though he were leaning into a strong wind to stand upright. He staggered and reached for James to steady himself. James took a tight grip on his elbow, looking worried.

And then Tony's Extremis came roaring back.

He gasped and felt his spine arch as a feeling akin to being struck by lightning went through him. "James—" he gasped, and flailed his other arm towards him.

"Tony, what's goin' on?" James asked. He glanced up and down. "Tony…" he said, uncertainly. "Tony… you're glowing."

Tony glanced down at himself. Sure enough, a faint blue-green glow was surrounding him. It was giving little pulses, getting stronger with each one. It reminded him of something. What…?

Oh, fuck!

"Oh, fuck!" he repeated, out loud. "They're finally rescuing me. No, not now!" He clutched desperately at James. "Jamie, I don't want to go! I want to stay here, with you!"

James tightened his grip, too. "Don't go!" he insisted in return. "I'm sorry, I'll try to do better – just stay with me!"

"I don't want to go!" Tony repeated, but the glow was getting strong enough to start casting light through the forest, glinting off the snow, and he could feel the strong tugs on his mind, his heart and soul. "Jamie! Jamie, I love you!" he said in a frantic rush, determined to say it at least once. "Jamie…!"

"Tony! Oh God, what—" James looked as though he wanted to tug at his hair but didn't dare let go. He took a deep breath and exhaled in a rush. "I love you, too," he admitted, biting his lower lip. "Please don't go?"

The blue-green was tinting his vision now. "I don't have a choice," he said miserably. "But I don't want to, Jamie, please, I want to stay with you!" The light swallowed everything, and he felt James' hands slip away. "JAMIE!"

The last thing he heard was James' devastated, agonised return scream of "TONY!"

When he opened his eyes again, it was to a sight that looked unbearably foreign and yet painfully familiar.

Tony was crouched on the floor of what he finally remembered was his lab, surrounded by a group of people in colourful outfits. At least this time they aren't poking me with a stick, he thought, semi-hysterically.

And then he recalled he was now seventy years away from his Jamie, and his composure vanished.

He lunged upwards at the Asian man standing in front of him, clutching at the man's odd robes and ignoring the red cape that tried to bat him off. "Send me back!" he demanded, shaking Dr Strange forcefully, although the bastard didn't even budge an inch. "Damn you, I left Jamie behind in the middle of a god damned forest, now send me back!"

"You're welcome for saving your life," the Sorcerer Supreme said, calmly. "But it was a one-way trip; you can't go back."

"Then bring him here!" Tony insisted. "James Buchanan Barnes, January 1943. What are you waiting for?" he added, when Strange still didn't move. "If you can't send me, then bring him here!"

Dr Strange placed his injured, shaking hands over Tony's. "I can't," he said, quietly. "I'm so sorry, Stark, but I can't."

"No." Tony dropped his hands from Strange's robes and staggered backwards. "No," he repeated, looking around frantically for someone – anyone – else to help. Nobody else moved. "Jamie…" he whispered.

And then he broke.

He had no idea how long he'd been huddled on the floor, wailing his sorrow and heartbreak, but when he finally blinked the last tears from his eyes, the only person still in the lab was his CEO, Pepper Potts.

"Tony, are you okay?" she asked, draping a shock blanket around his shoulders.

"No," Tony admitted, hoarsely, clutching the edges of the blanket. "No, I'm not. Not remotely. I've just left the love of my life behind in the middle of a forest after just returning from weeks of torture."

Pepper's hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes went soft. "Oh, Tony," she murmured.

"God knows what he's thinking," Tony muttered. "Damn Strange for rescuing me at that moment!"

"He wouldn't have known," Pepper said. "He was just looking for traces of the Cosmic Cube."

For some reason, the words echoed in Tony's mind, rebounding into a crescendo and drowning everything else out. Traces. Traces! If he could figure out how to see what Strange had, and then tried tracking his traces that hopefully would still be on James…

"JARVIS, scan me with everything you have, and the area where I appeared in!" he ordered, leaping to his feet. Pepper flinched back, surprised. "Scan for everything you can, and also the stuff you can't."

"As you wish, sir," his AI said after a pause that made it clear he was basically humouring his creator.

Tony dashed across the room, his brain dropping into overdrive as he tried to imagine the equipment he'd need. He was going to have to consult Dr Strange, he realised. And maybe – he grimaced at the thought – even Reed Richards, although, he promised himself, only as a last resort.

Pepper made a soft, confused noise, but Tony didn't notice, too focused on possible equations running through his head as the muted hum of JARVIS' scanner went over him.

He spent the next few weeks frantically trying to build a multi-dimension time machine, consulting alternately with Rhodey, Dr Strange, Hank Pym and Reed Richards. He even sent Thor to Asgard to consult with… whoever up there. Time passed in a blur broken by the occasional shower and moments of passing out when Extremis needed to recharge.

He didn't care about any of that. He just needed to get his Jamie back.

He was just considering sending a note to Loki, of all people, when Dum-E bumped into a machine, knocking it just slightly out of alignment.

"Damn it, Dum-E, be careful!" Tony barked at the robot, hurrying over to right it again. His fingers were millimetres from it when it whirred into life with a gentle boop.

Tony froze. He hadn't been able to get that particular machine to work yet. Tentatively, he reached out with Extremis.

Conditions met! it informed him, beeping cheerfully in concert with Dum-E, who was apparently aware that, for once, he'd done something right. Searching dimensions…

"Holy shit, it works!" Tony bellowed, triumphantly pumping a fist in the air. All those in the lab looked over, pausing their work. "It fucking works!"

As if to punctuate this, the machines all gave a cheerful little trill and flashed a multitude of green lights. A small spark appeared in the air in the centre of the lab and hovered before slowly beginning to expand.

The view that eventually appeared in the middle of the ring of sparks was a lab, so for a moment Tony thought it hadn't worked after all. Then he realised that, for all it looked futurist, all of the equipment was laughably outdated by his standards.

Dr Strange and Richards were peering through the portal. "Where is this?" Richards asked, sounding puzzled. "I've never seen that logo before."

Tony glanced around, finally spotting the red mark that Richards obviously meant. "HYDRA," he wheezed, feeling as though he'd been punched in the throat. "Shit, no, why do they…?" He froze. What if this was when James had been held at Azzano?

And then the portal finally widened enough to show a figure strapped down to a table, left arm missing and the remainder of his shoulder a jagged ruin.

Tony made a pained noise and lurched forwards. Strange and Richards both held out an arm to stop him.

"Wait," Strange said, firmly. "We don't know if he's alone."

"I don't care." For the first time since the battle with Doom and Loki that had started everything, Tony summoned his armour. The Bleeding Edge slid over him even quicker than before. "I'm not leaving him there to suffer any longer. Come with me or not, I'm going to get him."

The two men exchanged an exasperated look before reluctantly stepping aside. Tony advanced until the edges of the portal field began to crackle around him. He took a deep breath and stepped through.

The sense of vertigo that overwhelmed him would have had him faceplanting if the armour hadn't held him up. He blinked rapidly and almost shook his head before realising that wouldn't be a good idea. No wonder he'd ended up unconscious after both previous trips.

A tiny, pained sound from the body on the table drew Tony's focus back, and he marched across the lab, dizziness be damned. He used the suit to scan James and directed it to retrieve whatever HYDRA files it could. Then he retracted the helmet and leant over James.

The imprisoned man was obviously heavily drugged, his eyes half open and clouded over so that Tony wasn't sure he was seeing anything.

"Hey, Jamie, it's me," he said, softly, retracting a gauntlet, too, so he could rest his hand against James' face. "Just hang tight, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

James' eyes rolled, but his head tilted towards Tony. "'ony," he murmured, his voice slurred. "'m I dyin' at last?"

"Oh, honey." Tony had to blink back tears. "No, you're not dying, not if I have anything to say about it. Just let me—" He reached for the nearest strap buckle and fumbled with it. "Ah, screw it," he said when it wouldn't come loose one-handed, and aimed the laser on his forearm at it, careful not to hit James.

"Hafta be," James muttered. "You're here. And—" His newly-freed arm flopped, as if he'd tried to gesture at Tony's armour.

"Nope. Promise," Tony assured him and shifted to cut the other straps. "Hang on," he warned once the other man was free, and slid his arms under James, hefting him easily into the air.

James slumped against him, head lolling on his shoulder, as Tony strode quickly back towards the portal. He could see the bustle of activity on the other side, medical equipment being prepped. James didn't even make a sound as they went through the portal, too drugged to notice the additional dizziness.

Placing him gently on the waiting stretcher, Tony had to force himself to let go, or be dragged along as James was rushed down to the Medical Wing. Dr Strange followed the stretcher, while Richards and Hank Pym began shutting down the machines.

Tony closed his eyes and took a huge, shuddering breath. He'd managed it. He'd found James.

His Jamie was safe.

James was kept sedated in the Medical Wing for two weeks, and Tony spent every second of that time sitting right outside the door, which was as close as medics would allow him.

By the time they woke James and allowed him in, Tony was practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He almost ran over the nurse who finally let him in but then stopped at the foot of James' bed.

"James," he breathed.

James looked steadily back. "Tony," he said in return.

There was a pause, and then Tony was sitting on the side of the bed and they were desperately clutching at each other.

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie," chanted Tony into James' shoulder. His eyes burned fiercely, and he held James so tightly he could feel the blood leaving his fingers. "Oh, God, Jamie."

"Tony," James rumbled in response, voice hoarse and choked. His arm was almost strangling Tony. "Tony, oh my God, you're here, it's really you. You came."

"Missed you," Tony informed him. "Wasn't going to just leave you there." The tears finally spilled over. "Love you," he said, fiercely.

James tensed, then shuddered. "Love you, too," he whispered. "But, Tony…"

"It's safe." Tony drew back enough to meet James' eyes and give him a tremulous smile. "This is the future, Jamie. We're safe."

"Safe?" James studied him for a moment. "Really?"

Tony grinned at him and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. "Really," he agreed. "Oh, Jamie, there's so much I get to show you."

James glanced around and, when it was clear nobody was paying any undue attention to them, drew Tony back in for a deeper, hotter kiss. "I can't wait, sugar," he murmured against Tony's mouth.

Neither could Tony.