It just takes a second for my world to come crumbling down,

Oh, I'm sure in the distance you can hear that awful sound,

How I plead for an answer, plead for an answer from you,

But if you give me an answer, that just makes no sense then what's the use,

And just like that my life is broken I can barely breathe and now I'm opened for suggestions,

At the end of the day life's a lesson,

Life's a lesson,

So, why can't he see it from my point of view?

And how many seconds in the hours of a day did we lose,

Was it me or his feelings, me or his feelings that day?

'Cause I just stood there in silence watched while my world blew away,

And just like that my life was broken I can barely breathe and now I'm opened for suggestions,

At the end of the day life's a lesson,

My life's a lesson,

Hollow, oh,

Feelings in the air that I breathe that come over me,

Come over me,

Now I'm open,

Oh yes I'm open,

For suggestions, life's a lesson,

Now I'm free 'cause life's a lesson,

Oh why can't I see it from his point of view?

And how many seconds in the hours will I make him lose,

Oh, he said it was him or the answer, it was him or the answer that day,

Well, I kept shouting out the answer, so what was the use anyway?

Suggestions - Orelia Has Orchestra

T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$T$

Their flight back to the states had been uneventful. They'd both been tired and had sat on a couch together to watch movies. He can't really remember what movies they watched, as he spent most of the flight thinking about everything he'd have to get done once he returned to Stark Compound and Stark Industries. He had noted that paparazzi would most likely be everywhere at the airport but Natasha had just shrugged and pulled a cap over her hair before adding sunglasses. Her loose tank top and worn jeans had also helped because no one would suspect Black Widow to dress that way.

Tony had not bothered to hide himself. He knew that there was no use in both of them hiding, the paparazzi knew it was him on the plane. So he'd walked off the jet like it was any other day. Cameras had went off from all angles but Natasha just kept her head down and her face angled towards him. He'd wrapped an arm around her waist to let her hide her face against his shoulder a few times.

They'd returned to the compound and he'd sat down with Natasha to discuss her options. T'Challa had emailed him, letting him know that due to the circumstances surrounding Natasha's siding with Rogers, he would not be pursuing legal action. The UN hadn't been exactly thrilled but they were willing to work something out, Ross had thrown a fit. But without T'Challa's recounting of events, they had no information to go on. And Tony was working on gathering intel on Ross. He wanted to bury the man.

After deciding that, until they could get her name officially cleared, Natasha would work undercover as Tony's PA, he'd called Pepper and requested a meeting for the following day. She had agreed to come to the compound and Tony knew that Pepper knew who had gone on vacation with him. But, she didn't sound bothered when she'd agreed to the meeting. She'd asked if he'd had a good time and requested first dibs on any embarrassing photographs from the island. He'd laughed when she'd joked about selling them to a tabloid and it eased something in his chest to know that they could still be friends. That they hadn't lost that easy camaraderie.

Now, though, he is just sitting in his lounge, Natasha next to him with a glass of wine and he with a glass of bourbon. They hadn't discussed sleeping arrangements so far and he hopes that they won't have to. But there is something they need to discuss. Because now, they're back in the real world, forced to deal with the daily grind. They need to clear the air between them officially if he is going to help her clear her name. He clears his throat as he lets his eyes drift away from her.

"Did you know, too?" He manages to ask, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper as he forces the words past his lips. He knows the truth, or he thinks he does, but he wants her to tell him. He needs to know that he has her honesty, at the least. "About my parents' accident?"

Tony hears her sharp intake of breath but he doesn't turn in her direction. They need to have this conversation if they are getting as close as he thinks they are. And he doesn't think he can do it if he looks at her. He doesn't know if he can continue if he sees pain or pity in her eyes.

"Yes." Natasha finally replies, her voice equally low and only slightly rough. "I know about your parents' accident. Though, I don't know what you mean about 'too'. Rogers?"

And that name. He hasn't let himself think that name since Siberia. Since 'did you know', since 'so was I'. He's not completely unable to deal with his feelings. He is an adult, after all. Sure, Rogers had been a friend. But, Tony had been fine before the Avengers, he was fine now. He did not need them and they would not break him. He was stronger than that. He was hurt, and he was tired, but he was not broken.

"You know," he begins. "Growing up, people always had this misguided notion that I loved Captain America. That I idolized him or something. Either that, or I hated him. To be honest, it was neither. I mean, sure, Howard talked about him a lot. But, by the time I went off to college it was such a common thing that I'd become sort of indifferent."

With a huff of laughter, he risks a glance at Natasha. She's sitting patiently, her body turned slightly towards him, her body language open. Tony knows it's not an act. He's seen Natasha's acts. This is real. He instinctually knows that she will not shy away from this. Even if it gets messy, or painful, or complicated. She may eventually walk away, but it won't be because she can't, or won't, deal with it. He knows he can count on her.

"When I finally met him, I still wasn't all that impressed. But, I gave him the benefit of doubt, you know? Maybe he was as good, as righteous, as infallible as Howard had painted him to be. Turns out, he's not. He lied to me for two years. Lived with me, worked with me, and lied to me."

"Tony, I don't know what to say." Natasha says as she reaches a hand over and places it on his leg. He puts his hand over hers, squeezing gently. Her lips part and he knows that he can't let her speak again, not yet.

"I am not an easy man to like. Not on the surface. I know that. There's a reason for that. I'm abrasive, loud, obnoxious, because I need to be. If someone can get past that, to me, then I know they're worth it. Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, they all got past the surface. And so quickly." Tony tells her with a slight nod. "But Rogers never seemed able to. He could've at least told me."

"I should've said something." She replies, moving closer to him so she can press against his side. Offering comfort. Warmth. Safety.

"I can sort of see why you didn't, I guess. It still hurts, but I almost get it. We weren't as close then as we are now. This whole close thing is fairly new, actually. And you're a spy, Natasha. You've been a spy your whole life. You were brought up that way, for better or worse. That sort of training doesn't just go away. And, you'd just destroyed your whole life. That, if nothing else does, earns you a little more understanding."

"Rogers had just had his world turned upside down, too." And he wants to laugh at her answer, he almost does. But he knows that he won't because it will be bitter and he doesn't want to be bitter. He doesn't want any of them to have the satisfaction.

"No. Rogers had just received some of the best news possible. Sure, it was painful, but he had possibilities all of a sudden. You had everything yanked from under you. Your world was burning to the ground."

"Because I set it on fire." She tells him with a wry smirk on her lips now. Her eyes, though, are full of sorrow.

"Well, isn't that what you do when your house is filled with roaches?" He asks her as he puts an arm around her shoulders.

"Maybe." She answers him, settling against his side once more. "But, next time, maybe we try a better way than setting it on fire."

"Oh, I don't know." Tony looks down at her, meets her green eyes with his brown ones before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Maybe next time we can burn it down together."

Meanwhile in the Middle of Nowhere

They'd managed to find a hotel that didn't ask a whole lot of questions when Clint had asked for two rooms and paid with cash. They were all gathered in one room and Scott was flipping through the channels when a picture of Stark flashed across the screen. He had his arm around a woman that was hiding her face and he wore a large grin. Scott turned the volume up and felt everyone else coming closer to see what was going on.

"Tony Stark has ended his hiatus and is back in the United States today. There has still been no word from Pepper Potts about the mystery woman on Stark's arm." The woman standing in front of the camera says, flashing a mischievous smile. "Here's hoping that Mystery Woman speaks up soon. We all want to know just where Stark whisked her off to and if there may be wedding bells in the future."

"Yeah, right." Clint barks as he stands up and starts to pace slowly. "Why do they keep buying into everything he feeds them?"

"What do you mean?" Steve asks and Scott has realized that his inner fanboy has quieted quite a bit recently.

"He's obviously trying to get them to talk about anything except his latest disaster." Clint replies as if it should be obvious. "And I still haven't heard form Natasha so there's no telling what he's managed to do there. I don't know if she's locked up, on the run, what."

"I'm sure she's fine." Steve tells him in a reassuring (read condescending) way. "She always lands on her feet."

"Yeah." Clint sighs, sitting down again. "It's just ridiculous that we have to be the ones on the run. We're suffering the consequences because of Stark."

"It will get better." Steve responds before going back to talking strategy with Sam.

Now that Stark was back, Scott didn't know where they would go. Avengers Compound was probably off-limits. Sometimes, he thinks of just leaving in the middle of the night. Or saying he wants to go for a walk. Just grabbing his gear and returning home. He'd been to prison. It sucked, but it wasn't a fate worse than death. Or exile. With a sigh, he turns his attention back to the television and blocks out the noise around him.