Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man or The Dead South. I just kicked them both out of the car at the same time. Not sure if I'll find a bill for destruction of public property in the mail. Perhaps I should hire a lawyer of my very own.

Chapter 7: Under Pressure

The Dead South- Wishing Well

By the time he'd finished building the arc reactor and hooking it to their power grid for its start up, he was exhausted. Tony hit the switch. The lights in their cave dimmed as the glow from the arc grew brighter. Intelligent brown eyes watched it carefully to see if it would sustain reaction.

Yinsen walked up next to him and blew out a breath. "That doesn't look like a Jericho missile," he observed.

"That's because it's a miniaturized arc reactor." Tony couldn't believe he'd actually done it, in a cave in Afghanistan of all places. He took a moment to savor the breakthrough. "I got a big one powering my factory at home. It should keep the shrapnel out of my heart."

"But what could it generate?" His cell mate eyed the piece of tech on the table.

"If my math is right, and it always is, three gigajoules per second." Tony noticed that around them the lights in the cave brightened again. It looked like the reaction would be sustained.

The man in the glasses shook his head slightly. "That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes."

"Yeah," Tony admitted. "Or something big for fifteen minutes."

Grabbing his stack of tracing paper, he beckoned Yinsen over to the drafting table he'd set up. "This is our ticket out of here," he confided.

Yinsen stared down at the bundle of papers, his brow cocked questioningly. "What is it?"

"Flatten them out and look," Tony commanded. He followed word with deed by drawing his hands across the pages so they were taught. The full schematics for the manned metal suit came into view. It was a crazy idea, he knew, but it was the next step.

"Oh, wow," Yinsen breathed. Tony's face broke into a smug smile. "Impressive," the man congratulated.

Yeah. Tony agreed.

The next day was spent setting up to replace the electromagnet in his chest with the arc reactor. Pulling off his shirt, Tony lay down on his cot. He ignored the pebbled flesh on his arms from the cold air. When the electromagnet was removed, anxiety and relief flowed through him in equal measure. Thankfully, Yinsen was quick about installing the arc.

He lay there after the procedure running a mental diagnostic on his body. Everything seemed fine. It wasn't until he stood up that the full impact hit him. Both of his hands were free.

He no longer needed to worry about where the damn battery he'd been lugging around was at. There was no more concern about moving too far, or too quickly, and unplugging himself. It was like having a tiny piece of his freedom back.

In pleasure, Tony swaggered forward and held his arm out to Yinsen. They shook on their success and settled down to take a break.

…...

Angela sat in a side room in the base's engineering division, steadily working on the contraption she hoped would save her life.

"You couldn't have had someone else do this?" Mike asked anxiously.

"Would you want to leave something this critical to the hands of someone else?" She questioned back.

Mike shook his head. "No."

It was seven in the morning. Angela had no idea how she was still functioning. The morphine had completely worn off hours before, and it had been less than three days since she'd been blown up by her own weaponry. It was an inhuman effort she should have never been able to muster. According to the doctors, she shouldn't have even been conscious yet.

She felt like there was glass imbedded in her muscles and molten lead filling her head. Privately, she admitted to herself that the exhaustion was making her fingers stupid. As she wrapped the enamel copper wire, she kept banging her broken pinky.

"I'm going to scrub up so I can be in there with you," Mike commented.

With dogged motions she continued assembling the magnet. "Is that wise?" She muttered.

"How much longer until you're done?" He countered.

She understood. If the situations were reversed she'd do anything to try to help her brother, even if it put her somewhere she shouldn't be. That obstinate streak was probably their dad's fault.

Angela yawned, long and wide. It made her head throb. "A bit." She continued her motions.

He shuffled in the seat next to her. "Surgery is scheduled for eleven thirty."

Nodding, she tamped down her irritation at his prodding. Angela knew what time it was and how many hours were left before she had to be in pre-op. She was trying not to think about it.

A part of her wanted to take a break, so she could make sure he knew that if something happened to her it wasn't his fault. It would only lead to an emotional breakdown however, so Angela continued working. If she quit she might fall asleep despite the pain.

"It'll be done by then." There was silence for a moment, and the ache from her pinky radiating up her arm started to eat at her. "Tell me about what the kids and Molly are up to. Have you called her since you got here?" Angela swallowed down a well of fear that she may never see them again.

He gave a soft chuckle and she took the distraction to blink back tears. "Yes. She's worried about you. We haven't told the kids anything of course." He paused again and then added, "I haven't told Molly about what you're going to do either."

"Thank you for small favors." Angela quipped.

Mike made a noise of amusement. "Yeah, well, be prepared. I'm going to have to tell her sometime."

"Later." Angela demanded. "Much, much later. A few years if possible." Molly would not approve.

A lull settled between them again.

"You know Evangeline picked out your birthday card this year," Mike said conversationally. Angela let out a soft snort at the idea of an eighteen month old choosing a greeting card. Her brother grinned at her disbelief. "We gave her a choice of three. She was insistent about the one with the horses. They're her favorite animal. She's going through a phase."

Angela huffed out a laugh. "I remember Brandon had that 'mine' phase."

"Oh," Mike chortled, "Evie's already had that. She still has that. It's just now everything also has to have a horse on it." Her brother paused for a moment and then added, "I would have brought it with me but we sent it a few days ago. Should already be at your place when you get home."

If she got home. Angela frowned. Her birthday was the coming Saturday. If she screwed something up with her calculations she wouldn't need a card.

"The cartoon horses are atrocious. They're made with glitter," Mike finished with obvious relish.

Despite her dark thoughts she felt a grin curl her lips. It felt like forever since she'd smiled. "You used your child to send me a glitter bomb. That's rude, Mikey," Angela chastised. Mike snickered. "Before you leave you should pick up another airplane model for Brandon and a stuffed horse for Angie II. Something obnoxiously rainbow colored." It'd be nice for the kids to have a gift from her, just in case.

"Oh yeah?" Mike mused. "From you I suppose? How am I supposed to buy anything with no Italian money. What do they even use here?"

"Euros," Angela answered easily.

"You going to pay me for it or just take the credit?" Mike teased. Angela momentarily closed her eyes at the slice of normality.

"Well, I'd give you the money for it, but my wallet is still on a private plane at Bagram," she joked dryly.

A few hours later Dr. Yuen, an Asian man of middle age asked, "Are you ready, Angela?"

Angela relaxed back against the bed, all the monitoring equipment back on and a crude electromagnet nearby. 'No,' she thought. "Yes," she answered.

The anesthesiologist stepped in and asked Angela to count her breaths.

…...

They settled down to play backgammon for a bit.

"You still haven't told me where you're from," Tony commented, pulling the top off their teapot.

Yinsen rolled the dice before glancing up. "I'm from a small town called Gulmira. It's actually a nice place." He answered.

"Got a family?" Tony wondered. He poured them both a cup of tea.

"Yes," Yinsen smiled down at the board. "And I will see them again when I leave here." The older man looked up at him again. "And you, Stark?"

Tony met Yinsen's eyes, set the man's tea down next to him, and twitched his head to the side. "Nothing," he admitted baldly. A brilliant, brunette ghost rose to mock him.

"No?" Yinsen raised his eyebrows. "So you're a man who has everything and nothing." He mused.

Tony gave a side twitch of his lips. Didn't that sum him up nicely?

…...

Two days after her second surgery Mike finally terrorized the hospital administrators enough to have her released.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Mike asked from behind her. He was backing her wheelchair through the door of one of the rooms the base had set up for video conferences.

Angela kept a careful hold on the battery in her lap and tried to mind the wires connecting to her chest. The day before a clumsy nurse hadn't been paying attention and had almost tangled her arm in the cables. "It has to be done. The sooner the better."

He gave a sigh, but said no more. With a few movements he had her positioned in front of the camera and had taken a seat off to the side. When the clock ticked down to five in the evening local time, Angela connected the Skype call. Mr. Stane's large frame came into focus seated behind his desk.

"Angela," he greeted. It was eight in the morning in Malibu and she could see that Stane was still drinking coffee. She thought he looked strained around the edges. It was to be expected. He was bearing the full weight of the company while Mr. Stark, Tony, was missing.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you up and around. I was sorry to hear what happened to you over there. If the company can do anything to help, please let us know." He waved a hand. "We're in a bit of disarray over here what with the terrible news about yourself and Tony," he explained. "But we'll certainly do our best by you."

"Thank you, Mr. Stane," Angela replied. Before she could continue the man spoke again.

"I've had HR put you on medical leave for now. But you're job will be waiting for you when the doctors give you the all clear. So don't you worry about that." He leaned in toward the camera. "Rest and recuperate, Angela."

Well, she thought in frustration, that effectively extended the hand of help and then put limitations on it. She'd been counting on using her lab at Stark Industries to help her fix her new tether issue. That didn't even touch on the issue of catching a flight back to the States. She couldn't fly commercial and the military wasn't likely to make a special flight just for her.

SI paid very well, and she had the settlement from her parent's death available to her. Outfitting a personal lab from scratch was within her means, but it would take time. She'd have to find premises first. Angela tried to marshal her thoughts in order to make the request for access to her lab at SI, but she'd apparently been quiet for too long and Stane was moving on.

"Now," his voice took on a crisper tone. "When I read over your email and the documents you sent me, I was very concerned. They seem to outline a disturbing trend within the company," Stane continued.

Angela pursed her lips. She still wasn't comfortable with having transmitted the information that way, but being stuck in Italy it was her only option.

They spent about an hour going through her findings step by step. Stane wanted to know what had first caught her attention, and then why she'd made the jump to the component lists. Finally, he asked her for theories on the likely culprits.

"Honestly the theft comes from such disparate departments there are too many variables to narrow it down." Angela paused for a moment. Directly accusing someone was not to be done lightly. "Hoeft from IT is involved. And I would suspect Inventory and Safety are involved in some way as well. As to who there? Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to delve further before I was scheduled for the Jericho demonstration."

Stane gestured carelessly with a large hand. "Don't worry about that. The information you've provided is more than enough for an internal investigation." He sat back in his chair. "I promise you I'll put someone on this right away," he assured. "The company does not take theft like this lightly. You focus on getting well, I'll take things from here."

After a few more formalities, he signed off. Angela never got a chance to ask him to open a lab for her.

Looking across the room, she met Mike's worried eyes. "What are you going to do?"

She considered her options. "Call Pepper." Ruefully she thought, 'Again.'

Unfortunately, Pepper couldn't help much. She promised to put Angela in contact with a realtor, but didn't have the authority to open any of Mr. Stark's private labs. In the end, the three of them decided that Angela's best option was to appeal to the Base for lab space.

The Base commander, having the previous experience of dealing with SI lawyers under his belt, cut the military a better deal the second time around. Aviano would provide her lab space and any equipment she needed. In return they had partial rights to anything she designed using said equipment. There was an added codicil that ensured her non-compete agreement with SI wasn't breeched, but it was her only protection.

With effort, Angela pushed down the churning ball of anger in her gut. She was being backed into one corner after another. It'd been awhile since she'd been on the losing end of her own game.

By the time she and Mike finally settled into the makeshift bunk room across the hall from her newly minted lab, her eyes itched and her spine slumped. The place was in the basement of a mostly unused science building close to the hospital. It was ill lit, isolated, and depressing.

"Well," Mike broke the silence, glancing around at their surroundings. "What now?"

Angela yawned and carefully positioned her battery on a nightstand next to her cot. "Now, we call it a day. Tomorrow I start working again."

After three days out of the hospital Angela could admit that the problem was more complex than she had anticipated.

It took a few close calls to get used to having to move a battery with her when she needed to go more than four feet. It was further complicated by the crutches she needed to use to get around on her broken foot. The battery had to be constantly monitored for charge, kept clean and dry, and it was heavy.

Button up shirts were her new best friends. Not only did they cover scars from her first surgery, but they covered up the jarring site of the clunky metal cylinder in her chest. The last became of importance to her when she'd been stopped five times on her way across the base one day: three times were by personnel who thought she had a bomb. A base wide memo was put out about her.

One week after the successful surgery, she crutched her way through the main doors of the hospital for her week check up, Mike at her side. His presence didn't stop the receptionist from giving the wires trailing from her chest a horrified look. Angela sighed tiredly and rolled her eyes.

Mike cleared his throat to get the woman's attention. "Ten forty five appointment for Harper," he stated flatly.

The nurse had her sign in and then wait to be called.

"Thank God you have good health insurance," Mike quipped.

"Thank God it works in Italy," Angela rejoined.

Twenty minutes later they were called back. Angela stripped out of her over shirt and tank top, but refused to lose her bra. She pulled the little paper vest on and sat on the examination table. The doctor seeing her was, thankfully, not Dr. Whitman.

"Good morning," a younger dark haired man greeted as he entered the room without knocking. "My name is Dr. Lori and I'll be assisting you today. The man finally looked up from his clip board and froze.

Angela watched the man's mouth drop into an 'o' of surprise. When it held for several long seconds, she could feel her eyebrow raise. "Nice to meet you, Doctor," she prompted.

"Yes, you as well," he mumbled. He moved across the room while his eyes danced across her chest piece. "I understand you underwent elective surgery a week ago."

"It was not elective," Angela clipped back, insulted. "I had a prosthesis implanted to control the movement of shrapnel left in my chest from an attack while I was in Afghanistan."

The man still hadn't looked up from her chest. When he glanced at her chart, and then back to her, his gaze went right to the electromagnet.

Angela looked over the Doctor's shoulder at her brother. Soundlessly, Mike mouthed, 'The hell?' She rolled her eyes and was tempted to snap her fingers in front of the doctor's face.

Dr. Lori reached out an ungloved hand to touch her chest and Angela reacted on instinct. She snagged his wrist in an uncompromising grip. The man finally looked up.

"Doctor, I understand that this is unusual, but there are delicate electrical connections to that device that are currently keeping me alive. Please do not disturb them." Mentally she added, 'with your unsanitary, ungloved hand.'

The doctor blinked at her, as if only just realizing that there was a person attached to the device. "My apologies. It is unusual. I'm afraid my enthusiasm ran away with me, Miss. Harper."

'Better,' Angela thought in satisfaction. It didn't last long.

Dr. Lori insisted she remove her bra even though it sat below the electromagnet. Angela took a breath, but conceded. The man had a point about examining the skin around the device. Understanding his reasoning didn't make the situation less uncomfortable or invasive.

He further compounded her bad impression by spending so much time prodding the skin around the device that Mike started shifting in his seat.

"Is there something wrong, Doctor?" Her brother asked.

Dr. Lori flinched, startled. "No, no. It's simply amazing to see the melding of flesh and machinery. The tissue seems to be healing quite nicely."

'And that took you five minutes of touching me,' she mentally groused. Angela felt her fingers curl into a fist.

After several long moments he finally pulled his hand back. "Have you considered becoming a medical case study?"

"No," Angela said steadily, but with force.

The doctor made a commiserating face which she thought came off as disingenuous. "I'm sure this has been a difficult time for you, but the possible applications…"

"Are very case specific," she gritted out. "The military have access to my schematics and the notes from Dr. Yuen's surgery. I feel no need to take it further."

Angela would have thought she was over reacting if Mike hadn't stood and crossed the room to her side. She had noticed her temperament had been fluctuating lately. Part of that was poor sleep, nightmares creeping in once the frantic push to save her own life was over. Part, Mike speculated, was PTSD. An airman had banged a metal door loudly one day and Angela had ducked.

"Well yes," the doctor offered, eyeing her brother's tall, muscular frame. "I suppose the trauma is still very near to you."

Angela felt her eyes hood. 'Yes,' she thought, 'less than four feet.'

Once the appointment was over Mike offered softly, "We could request a different doctor."

"And give the military a reason to insist on more visits? No." She finished buttoning up her shirt protectively around the wires.

…...

They spent the next several weeks fabricating the armor and pretending to look busy for the guards. It was a game of time, Tony knew. If his captors found out what he was doing before he was ready, then Tony lost.

When they came to the door and opened the viewing slot, yelling into him and Yinsen, he thought they'd finally found out. Tony shut off the blow torch and tried to prepare himself for the worst. He and Yinsen stood on opposite sides of the main aisle in their room, hands on their heads. The door opened, revealing a large group of armed men. At the back of them stood the bald man.

"Relax," the bald man said in slightly accented English.

Tony and Yinsen slowly dropped their hands. 'What the hell is going on?' Tony wondered.

The man came over and pulled at Tony's shirt where the glow of the arc reactor showed through. Tony had to stop himself from hitting him.

"The bow and arrow once was the pinnacle of weapons technology." The man's hand fell away, and he strode across the room. "It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the Great and four times the size of the Roman Empire." The man wandered the room, picking up pieces of tech, before finally lifting the stack of trace paper plans off the work bench. "But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons rules these lands."

Panic fizzed in Tony's chest and he looked over at his cell mate. Yinsen made a quelling motion with his hand. The bald man dropped the papers back on the bench and Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

"And soon," the man continued, "It will be my turn."

At the man's words, Tony felt his jaw tighten. He was glad they were close to finishing the suit and escaping. The guy was dangerous enough without the capability to level cities.

While the man stood in front of Tony he started a conversation with Yinsen that Tony couldn't follow. Whatever Yinsen said resulted in him being grabbed by two men and forced to his knees.

The bald man went to the stove and, using a set of tongs, picked up a coal. He blew on it until it was red hot, all the while watching Tony out of the corner of his eye. He said something to Yinsen, and then reached out to push Yinsen's head down to the anvil.

Tony's palms started sweating. "What's he want?" He asked. No one answered him.

In response to the bald man's questions, Yinsen began insistently repeating a phrase with the word 'Jericho' in it. That fixed it in Tony's mind. They'd figured out that something wasn't right about what he was building. His gut tightened in dread.

Unable to stand back and watch whatever was going to happen to his cell mate, Tony took a step forward. "What do you want? A delivery date?"

There was a chorus of shouts and movement from the armed men by the door. Tony instantly stopped moving and held his hands up. At last, the bald man looked back over at him.

Tony tried the only thing he could think of to save Yinsen. "I need him," he declared lowly. "Good assistant."

The bald man held the glowing ember next to Yinsen's face for a long moment before dropping it. "You have until tomorrow to assemble my missile," he commanded. In a sudden show of violence, he threw the tongs across the room. They landed with a crash, chips of stone spraying outward from their impact.

The group slowly filtered out of their cell as Yinsen sat back on his heels.

'Fuck,' Tony thought.