OK! So here's the next chapter! Man, this was pretty much written out weeks ago really but I needed to add more to it to really get the story going now. I hope you enjoy! No beta test for this chapter as my good friend npeg is away, so I hope it still reads well :)

I don't really have any song recommendations for this chapter (I'm sorry!), but anything with a slight solemn feel I guess?

Again, I don't own anything, characters, names etc. Any OC character names and likeness to actual names is purely coincidental.

Thanks again, and reviews encouraged! :) xx

Legacy

"The past week, what many have dubbed 'The Coming of Armageddon', has been one of the darkest in recent history, as the nation and the world mourn those who perished in the devastation of New York City. The casualties are estimated to be in the millions, and it is feared that thousands more may be at risk of –"

"– Cemetery, where the burial of billionaire Tony Stark, former owner of Stark Industries and the face behind the great Iron Man, is taking place. It is a sad day as one of the world's most celebrated scientific minds of our time –"

"– Speculation over those behind the Manhattan Incident. There have been claims that it was the act of terrorist extremists, but as yet there have been no official statements made public to confirm who is responsible for the –"

"–That Tony Stark – the great Iron Man – and the reportedly sighted old War-time icon Captain America were unable to save the countless souls who perished in New York almost a week ago. The relatives of the victims are angry at the continued silence of suspected government officials as well as the questionable allegiance of these self-proclaimed heroes who fled the city before –"

"– Of an alleged alien invasion, the strange light on Stark Tower, or that Stark Industries may have in fact been involved in the creation of a new WMD that hit Manhattan. What the people want to know is–"

"The question on everyone's lips –"

"Who is responsible?"

A long barricade of black suits stood between the horde of news cameras by the road and the modest burial that took place within the cemetery. It was a grey and dreary morning, one that Steve was hoping to forget but that would relentlessly be forever burnt into his memory. He didn't really know the man in the coffin.

But he knew Tony Stark.

In the short time he had been in his company there had been an exchange of words, however many of them had been bitter and hurtful, and the only time they had really avoided ripping each other's throats out was when duty called. Stark's name had been plastered everywhere and Steve had read his file so it had been virtually impossible to not know about the guy, and he had had a pretty good impression of the kind of man Stark had become. But who he reallywas had come to light and faded quicker than the fleeting lifespan of a mayfly.

Steve wished he could have gotten to know thatman better.

The man who saved his life.

He stood amongst the small crowd of mourners, dressed in his military uniform, the only person not wearing the customary black apart from Rhodey, who was stood by Pepper's side holding an umbrella over the both of them. He too was wearing his uniform. The sound of the rain thundering on the thin fabric of umbrellas was all that Steve could hear. It drowned out the sermon and the quiet sobs of those who truly cared for the man in the casket. His thoughts wandered from this solemn scene to another…

. . .

Fury stood before the sad-looking group around the table. Natasha and Clint sat side-by-side with Steve opposite on the far end, next to Agent Hill. Each person could not face the others as they sat in silence, still unable to come to terms with what had happened, until Steve broke that silence by slamming a fist into the tinted glass table. Tiny spider web cracks formed beneath his hand.
The others jumped at the noise, looking at him with growing uneasiness, but Fury remained standing with his usual quiet confidence.

"What I want to know is what in God's name made you think using the Cube was ever a good idea in the first place?!" Steve shouted, his eyes focused on the fractured glass as he seethed with anger. It was a rare sight to see him lose his temper, and it made all of the agents on the deck incredibly and obviously uncomfortable.

"You saw what it was used for, in HYDRA. You knew what it could have done. There was a reason it fell into the ocean and you people ignored that fact."

Fury stepped forward and placed his hands on the back of an empty chair before responding. "It was a risk, but one we were willing to take when the benefits were so high."

"But the cost was a lot higher than you expected, right?" Steve said impetuously, his eyes shifting to meet Fury's as the anger simmered behind them.

"That missile was not our call –"

"–I wasn't talking about that," Steve interrupted, "I was talking about Loki. The portal into outer space? You're the reason he's here. If you hadn't tampered with it then we wouldn't be looking for an alien psychopath right now or asking ourselves why New York's a smoking crater!"

"He's got a point."Clint said after finding the guts to speak up. Fury glared at him.

"Well playing the blame game isn't going to help us find Loki or the Tesseract. I suggest we save this and get to work tracking him." Natasha said coolly.

"Already on it. Agent Sitwell's team is scanning for him now –" Maria added.

"– And what makes you think it'll be the same scene as Stuttgart, or he'll even have the Cube on him?" Steve interrupted, "That's a blind alley you're walking down. He's already succeeded in breaking us apart and whatever he's got up his sleeve now won't involve being found– that plan's all wet."

"What about using Banner's tech to look for gamma radiation? We could track down its whereabouts that way, right?" Clint suggested.

"That gear was destroyed when someone successfully managed to blow up the labs." Fury pointed out as he continued to glare at Clint. Natasha glared right back at the director in his defence. "We need him. I've got the team working on finding Dr. Banner as we speak."

"What about Selvig?" Maria asked.

"No one knows what happened to him, chances are he was still in the city before…" Steve trailed off, recalling their escape. The rest of the group fell silent. They had lost more good men and friends that day than they cared to admit.

"So what's Loki's play? He shut the portal down. Why?" Natasha asked.

"Maybe his army turned on him?" Clint said.

"Or he turned on them," Steve added.

"I'm not sure…" Fury said, a wave of concern sweeping across his features. No one really knew what the hell he was up to and it just didn't make any sense when the chips had fallen in his favour. "But whatever he's got planned will involve the Tesseract, of that I'm certain."

"So what's the plan?" Maria asked.

"We keep sweeping cell phones, security cameras, anything that can help us track down Loki or Banner. Inform every S.H.I.E.L.D agent on the globe. I want them looking around the clock for these two. We're on a tight schedule here people. The longer it remains in Loki's hands the greater the danger."

Maria made to stand to join Sitwell and get to work but stopped when Steve spoke up.

"It's a danger in anyone's hands," Steve said flatly. "And what happens when we find it? You people take it back?"

Fury stared at Steve but said nothing.

"It doesn't belong here, like Thor said. You're like a kid who found his father's gun."

Steve rose from his seat and leaned over the table with clenched fists."I'll find him, but not under your orders. Once he's captured, the Cube is going to Asgard, away from you people."

"I'm done with S.H.I.E.L.D." He said bitterly before leaving the room.

. . .

The sermon ended and Pepper led the way, placing a red rose on its glossy black surface,peppered with droplets of rain water that streamed over its edges like thick tears. Rhodey followed suit, as did Happy and the few others behind him. Steve was the last. He placed the rose on the top of the pile, his hand lingering over the stem before finally letting go. He wanted to say something meaningful, he wanted to apologise for all of the things he ever said to him in the short time they had known each other, but most of all he wanted to thank him for saving his life. It was easy to feel sadness, to feel guilt, to be thankful, but saying those words when it all seemed too late was always hard. And it was never enough.

Pepper noticed his distant gaze as he stood before the coffin and walked over to offer him shelter under her umbrella, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry for your loss." His voice broke as the words left his lips. Pepper smiled solemnly.

"Whatever he said to you, about not being special? He never meant that, you know."

Steve looked at her, his sad, blue eyes glassy.

"Natasha told me what happened. You have to understand, Tony was a damaged man. His father spent his life searching for you, and lost his son in the process. Tony became distant. I think he never felt like he could match what Howard had accomplished, creating the world's first superhero…" She said, turning to idly caress a rose petal, decorated with beads of rain water, disturbing them with her fingertips as she continued.

"… So finally getting to meet you was difficult for him. You're a living legend, and all that just… just reminded him of his father."

"I didn't know that… Howard was a good man. I respected him."

Pepper rested her hand on the black surface of the coffin and stared at her reflection through the small pools of water that rippled with every heavy drop of falling rain.

"Yeah, well he should have spent more time with his family. Tony never really spoke about him, he never wanted to, but he did learn from him. It's thanks to him that Tony was with us for a while longer. The arc reactor in his chest opened his eyes. He wanted to stand for something more than his father's legacy. He wanted to create his own."

"I'd say he succeeded. I just… I wish I could take back everything I said," Steve muttered. Pepper turned to face him.

"What you said was the truth, and he knew that. He needed someone to stand up to him and tell him straight," she said, returning her hand to his arm. "The world lost someone very special when it lost you, Steve. I'd like to think Tony wanted to make sure it didn't lose you again."

She smiled softly up at him before turning to join the other mourners by the line of black Sedans and bodyguards fighting off the press. Steve followed, turning to glance at the coffin one last time.

Pepper paused at the open car door as Steve stood by to bid her farewell.

"I heard you'll be needing a place to stay," she said. Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Natasha said you're leaving S.H.I.E.L.D and won't set foot on the Helicarrier."

"For someone with a lot of secrets she's not very good at keeping them is she? She tell you everything?"

"She told me enough. Enough for me to have a room ready for you at Tony's place in Malibu so you can reconsider."

"My mind's made up. But thanks, I appreciate it, ma'am."

"Please. Pepper. We're friends," she said with a thin smile, "I'll have Happy collect your things when you're ready."

Steve nodded as she entered the car and he closed the door behind her. She rolled down the window to speak to him again.

"Think about it, won't you? Everybody's scared and confused right now, the public, the media. We're all in the dark, even S.H.I.E.L.D. They need you more than you realise."

The car drove off down the narrow road and Steve stood contemplating her words as the crowd gradually diminished.

. . .

"It's a bit of a mess at the moment but everything's working," Pepper shouted from across the living room, filled with heavy-looking boxes and metal crates.

Steve wandered in with a small bag of his personal belongings and the large, round, black protector on his back that held his shield, Happy following behind. Tony's house in Malibu was certainly something to Steve, a man who was used to the simpler things in life. A small apartment, a tent a few miles outside enemy territory, or a single room in a flying ship. One of the things that really struck him was the amount of glass in the place. He figured it was a strange choice for a man who had practically made his living blowing things up, who even built his own personal weapon in the same building. There was a lot of stuff to break, and by the look of some of the foundations, he probably had broken a few things recently.

"Cosy…" he murmured through a wry smile.

"We were moving into Stark Tower…" she continued as she walked over to the curious soldier who stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. He looked so out of place, his dated hair cut and clothing, juxtaposed against the modern décor of the living space. "…but that's not going to happen now."
Her eyes lingered on the device in her hand, fingers stroking the corners before handing it over to Steve.

"That's one of Tony's cell phones. I'll teach you how to work it if you have any trouble using it."

"Thanks. I'm still getting used to this," he said bashfully.

Her gaze on the phone lingered a while longer before she met Steve's eyes with a small smile.

"I'll give you the tour, and introduce you to the house keeper," she said, leading the way. Steve dropped his things for Happy to move to his room and followed the light-haired woman into the next room.

"JARVIS is in charge of the house and any incoming or outgoing calls or commands. If you need anything or are unsure about anything here, Jarvis will help you."

"Happy to oblige, Miss Potts. Good evening, Captain Rogers."

"Did the walls just talk?" Steve asked with a wry smile as he made a full 360-degree turn.

"That's JARVIS," Pepper added.

"At your service," the disembodied voice continued.

Any doubts over the house not suiting its former owner had well and truly vacated Steve's mind because this was definitely something beyond his understanding, and consequently, "very Tony".

"Okay, a talking house. Now I've seen everything."

Pepper took Steve through each room in the modern building and he started to think he quite liked the place, despite the confusing-looking technology on the walls and the seemingly English disembodied voice. They finished off the tour in Tony's private workshop on the lower level. That was the room that blew Steve's already spinning mind into the next realm.

"This is where he spent most of his time, and where most of his suits are stored. We started moving them over to New York, so what you see here is all that's left of them now."

Steve walked over to the wall of armour at the far end of the room. There was every suit up to the Mark IV in protective glass casing with fitted lights for the perfect viewing experience. It was quite a sight seeing Tony's greatest achievement towering before him in an ethereal light, but it also made him feel profoundly sad to know that they would never be worn by their creator again.
Steve wasn't particularly fond of the suit if he was being honest with himself. It was a weapon just as easily manipulated as any other when put in the wrong hands, like HYDRA's experiments. But Steve also knew from Tony's file that he had felt the same way about such a technology being controlled by anyone other than himself.

'The suit and I are one.'

His words immortalised in the legacy that lined the concrete walls of the basement workshop. They were doomed to remain as lifeless reminders of lost knowledge and creative ingenuity, to remain encased like artefacts in a museum, to be seen but never worn.

Pepper was also finding it hard standing in the unnaturally quiet workshop. It dragged up too many memories, too soon for her to cope with as she averted her eyes and caught sight of the Iron Man poster on the corner-kitchen wall.

"Steve, I – I'm sorry, but I've got things to do, company related things, so if you need anything just ask JARVIS," she said in a broken voice, before making her way over to the door.

"Right… Thanks, Pepper," Steve said quietly as he managed to break his gaze with the shining armour and noticed her discomfort. He furrowed his brow with concern. "Will you be okay?"

She gave him a weak smile, the best she could manage. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. It's just going to take a bit of time that's all… Good night, Steve." She paused at the doorway before turning and hurrying up the stairs out of sight, before Steve could manage to bid her "good night" too.

He stood in the cold, quiet room, the only sound a low hum of the lighting and computer equipment set to constant standby. Nothing had been moved since Tony had last set foot there. Its tables were littered with armour parts, a partially completed glove, metal plating for repairs, some strange components Steve hadn't the faintest idea what they were supposed to do, and an empty coffee cup. It was organised chaos, but he figured that was probably Tony summed up, really.

He returned his attention to the armoury and thought real carefully about the situation he was in. He'd left the S.H.I.E.L.D environment, had taken refuge in his late teammate's partner's company and had to find a dangerous psychopath in a sea of almost seven billion people. If he was even still around. It was certainly nothing he couldn't handle – he was Captain America after all, the one who always keeps a level head, the man with a plan.

Steve sighed. He was fooling himself if he honestly believed that. He felt well and truly lost. The country was spiralling into dark and troubled times. Worry, rumours, and conspiracies plastered the front pages on the newsstands, tripped from the lips of influential speakers on the television and radio, and were conversation on the streets. And what worried Steve the most was that he honestly didn't know what was truth and fabrication anymore. Things were only going to get more difficult and dangerous from here, he could feel it.

Steve met the empty eyes of the Mark III in front of him, its chest plate scarred with blackened indentations, the only suit not restored, and he wondered why that was the case. Then something occurred to him. Stark had enemies in his own world, and some had been very close to home, according to his records. He had a few scars from the past, most of which Steve believed he kept well hidden to the very end, but some he had put on display, perhaps as a reminder of what it took to protect the people important in his life. People like Pepper.

So Steve made a promise to himself and to Tony, right there, in front of the armoury, that he would do anything and everything within his power to keep Pepper safe from harm.

He owed him that much.

. . .

'Tonight's guest is someone who has recently been making headlines in the tabloids with claims that he has grounds to believe that there is a potential government cover-up regarding the Manhattan incident a month ago. Please welcome, my guest this evening, Mr. Christian Dermott.'

A petite blonde woman in a tailored suit lounged in her desk chair, filing her nails as she observed through heavy mascara eyelashes a tall, presentable man with short black hair walk on the set of a popular television show that flickered on the TV screen in the lobby. There was a sound of laughter on the other side of the double glass doors in the room, a single voice growing louder as its owner approached the door and opened it, bidding the disembodied voice in the hallway good night before entering the lobby.

"Evening, Mr. Hammer," The petite woman said in a monotone voice, chewing on her gum as she continued to file her nails.

Justin loosened his tie and adjusted his grey suit jacket as he eyed the woman behind the desk momentarily before turning his attention to the TV on the wall.

"Janette, why do you watch this bull? Where's the baseball, or the football, or any other sort of sport that involves, I don't know, throwing or hitting something?" he said, turning his attention back and forth between the TV and his receptionist.

The woman merely glared at him through caked lashes, chewing slowly. Justin narrowed his eyes slightly before turning to face the TV again. A well-dressed man with short dark hair, probably in his late 30s, sat confidently with crossed legs on a leather seat on the set of the show, answering questions that the presenter was throwing at him.

'You believe that Stark Industries has continued to provide nukes to the U.S military even after their apparent shift to green energy, and that it was a newly designed weapon used on the city of New York?'

'Stark Industries was and continues to be an arms dealer irrespective of what it claims to be. I have reasons to believe that it was a primary weapons provider not necessarily for the U.S military as such, but for a separate government organisation that most are unaware even exists. I intend to remedy that.'

Justin raised an eyebrow, changing his mind somewhat about the quality and entertainment factor of the program. This was interesting.

"How was the meeting with Senator what's-his-name?" the petite woman said flatly in a tone that overpowered the voices on the TV. Justin turned.

"Oh, yeah it went well. Thank god money is still the language of politicians and judges. But freedom don't come cheap honey," he replied, his whiter-than-should-be-possible smile beaming at the small secretary across the room as he walked over towards the desk, sitting on its edge.

"Yeah, speaking of cheap, when do I get that raise you've been promising me?"

"Hey, hey!" he responded, raising his hands in mock defence. "Give me a break here. These things take time. But if the box over there is right then Stark Industries is going to hit one hell of a hail storm and hopefully, with Stark out of the picture, this company will open new doors. So you'll get your loose change when the green starts flowing."

"Don't you still have that little matter of the company's reputation to clear up? People haven't forgotten what happened at Stark Expo last year."

"Yeah, I'm working on that," Justin replied, loosening his tie and appearing more agitated. "Look, don't you have a pedicure or manicure to get to or something? Go on, get out of here. I shouldn't be working you this hard anyway."

He stood from the desk and walked towards his office doors, taking off his suit jacket. The petite woman glared at him, placing her nail file on the desk as she stood.

"Night, surrr," she slurred as his office doors closed behind him.

The room was dark, but there was enough light seeping through the large windows of his top floor office room to make out his usual trail to the bar on its raised platform. He tried flicking on the light switch there, but nothing happened. He tried again, and again, flicking the switch on and off several times, but nothing.

"Janette!?" he shouted towards the doors.

No reply.

He wandered back and opened the door, only to find a dark and empty lobby, its TV turned off, and the only light a distant one down the hallway. He huffed and closed the door, wandering back to his office bar to pour himself a scotch. The soft, ringing sound of the crystal decanter tapping the glass as he poured himself a generous measurement resonated within the silence of the room. Justin placed the decanter down on the bar and took a long swig of his drink. He felt quite uneasy in the silence and the dark, and for good reason, because the minute the whiskey hit his throat he swore he could hear someone laughing from within the darkest corner of the room. It was a very faint, breathy sort of laugh, almost like a snigger.
Justin practically choked on his drink.

"What the f-… Who's there!?" he managed to shout as he continued to choke on the burning liquid that had ran down the wrong pipe.

He cautiously moved towards the other end of the bar, not breaking his focus on the dark corner of the room. His right hand strayed beneath the bar table to a hidden compartment and revealed a gun, immediately pointing it, rather shakily, at the darkness.

"You're t-trespassing and I'm armed!" he shouted, waving the gun in front of him for effect. His free hand frantically skimmed the underside of the bar for the panic button but he couldn't find it, all the while the mocking laughter become increasingly louder and harder to place. It seemed as though it was coming from every direction, including behind. Justin turned suddenly as he felt a cold breath of air brush past his ear, shakily pointing the gun at the empty space that was behind him. He turned a good 360 degrees, well and truly shook up as he backed away from the bar, turning at the slightest sound, still coughing on the alcohol at the back of his throat.

"I'm warning you, I will use this!"

He approached his desk in hopes of using the phone to call security, but his hand froze as the laughter seemed to concentrate into one space as a voice, clear as crystal and thick as honey spoke from within the darkness behind him.

"Then shoot," the voice mocked.

Justin turned suddenly and fired the gun without even looking at the source of those words. Within the flashes of light, as he fired bullet after bullet, he could make out a tall, darkly clad figure. His dark hair flowed in tufts that rested just above his shoulders, framing a pale face that held two glinting eyes above a menacing grin. Justin yelled in horror as he stumbled backwards, landing on his ass beside his desk as the gun skidded across the floor underneath it. The dark figure loomed, unscathed, laughing mockingly at the terrified man before him. The laughter filled the room again, appearing and disappearing from every corner within those four walls.

"Justin Hammer, I presume?" the figure spoke amongst the continued laughter. "Let's have some light, shall we?"

With a flick of his wrist the mysterious figure managed to turn on the lights of the room, however he was nowhere in sight from Justin's view on the floor. Justin stood, shakily, and looked towards the doorway, only for the voice to make its presence known from behind him. He turned quickly to notice the figure sat on his seat behind his desk, legs crossed and an arm propped on the seat's armrest, his hand idly brushing his chin. He was well dressed, in a sort of black tailored suit with a white shirt and black tie, finished with a long black fitted-jacket and green and gold scarf. The man studied the shaken arms-dealer quizzically with steely green eyes.

"W-who the hell are you, and why are you in my office!?" Justin stammered, looking around momentarily for any signs of a forced entry.

"Is this how you treat all of your guests, Mr. Hammer?" The man grinned.

"No, this is how I treat god damn intruders and thieves, followed by a friendly visit from security, who'll be here any minute now since those gunshots. So why don't you get your scrawny ass out of my god damn chair –"

"That's quite enough of that," the man said flatly, raising his other hand from his lap to make a quick sort of brushing motion in the air as if he was drawing a short, straight line with his index finger.

Justin tried to continue his monologue but his voice had disappeared and not a single sound escaped his lips. He raised his hands to his mouth and throat, his face as white as a sheet (which was quite the achievement for a man who indulged in a tan every now and then) and eyes wide with fright behind his thick black-rimmed spectacles.

"Just to make this perfectly clear to you, without interruptions…" the man glared at Justin to emphasise his point, "… There will be no security. This room is sound-proof. No one can hear anything that transpires from within these walls. And as for your security devices, well, there will be nothing out of the ordinary for other eyes to witness should you wish to refer to your recordings later."

Justin's eyes shifted to the doorway, but the man could already sense what he was thinking.

"I do believe that you will regret that, for you will have turned down a rather tempting opportunity. I am here, Mr. Hammer, with a proposition for you."

The dishevelled man raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention back to the mysterious man sat in his chair.

"My name is Loki. I, like you, have had a spot of bother in the past with a certain Mr. Stark and an organisation known as S.H.I.E.L.D. The man of iron has fallen from the chessboard; however there is still the matter of this group to deal with."

Loki leaned forward in the chair.

"As you have no doubt come to realise, I am no mere man. I have come into the possession of a power source that I believe will be of interest to you. It is something that S.H.I.E.L.D had attempted to control, but ultimately failed to do so. What I require from you is your expertise to utilise this power source not only to create weapons but to invent a device that can sustain energy like Mr. Stark had created. I understand that you may require secure knowledge from Stark Industries, and I am willing to help you gain complete control over all of their facilities and connections so that you may deliver your end of the deal to my expectations. For this, I also require from you any connections that you may have to the U.S. military and government."

Loki stood from the seat and practically glided around the desk to face the gobsmacked arms-dealer. He smirked.

"I guarantee you control over all of Stark's company and personal technology with which, I expect, you will provide me with suitable means to strengthen this country's military forces."

He raised his hand and made the same motion in the air again, this time to break the spell.

"Well, do we have a deal?" he said, holding out his hand.

Justin smiled. It was almost too good to be true. He'd finally have complete control over the Iron Man suit and the latest arc reactor technology. With his smile growing ever wider and more genuine, Justin took the tall man's hand firmly and shook it.

"You bet we do, friend."

Ok! So Loki's back in action and has something up his sleeve. I've not revealed too much at this stage because that'll come in the next chapter or the one after that, but I hope it will be quite an exciting reveal and trust me, the story should start picking up the pace and actually seem more interesting now. Thanks for all of you who have continued to read despite the slow start to this story, but I believed it was necessary to fully establish the situation that the characters are in.

Again, thanks for reading! And please comment if you have time, I really do appreciate any reviews. It helps me improve my writing. :) xx