"Pick up the phone. You're going to call Howard Stark. Do you know the number?"
A nod.
"Good. You're going to dial it. When he picks up, you're going to repeat exactly what I say. Do you understand?"
A nod, shakier this time.
"Do it."
So much for no more ransom notes, Tony thinks bitterly. He does as the man says, picking up the phone and staring down at the buttons. In his panic, he's forgotten what the number is. He stares blankly.
"Dial the number," the man says, jostling him. Tony gulps.
1. He pushes the 1 button. 2. 7. No! He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. There's a 4 somewhere, but he can't remember if it's the first or third -
"Thought you said you knew the number." His captor sounds significantly less patient now.
"I do," he protests, "but I'm nervous, so I'm afraid I'll mess up." Not a complete lie, but believable, he hopes.
"You'd better figure it out," the man next to Jarvis says. He waves the gun meaningfully. Jarvis hasn't moved yet.
"Don't hurt him," Tony says reflexively, eyes fixed on the butler's pale face. Another little shake, and he refocuses on the telephone. There are a few ways he can do this. He can sit there and stare until he remembers the phone number he never had to use, or he can call the security help line and pretend that's Howard Stark's phone. He could call the house phone, but it's past four so his mother will probably be too tispy to understand what's going on and respond appropriately, if she even picks up. There's always the possibility of dialing the intercom so the few people at the reception desk can do something, but then Jarvis would be shot. The thought makes him ill. He stares at the keypad, indecisive.
The guy with the gun pipes up again. "Maybe we can shoot him in the leg or something, to encourage him."
"Don't," Tony says immediately. "I'm doing it, okay? Leave him alone." Call Howard it is. At least he and Jarvis will be alive to be yelled at afterwards -
The door swings open again, and the two men drop like flies.
"Drop the gun," the intruder commands. "Now." The man in charge drags Tony to his feet and brings out the gun Tony had forgotten about.
"Get out or I'll shoot."
"No, you won't," the intruder replies. The man's hand moves from his shoulder to his throat, and Tony chokes.
"Then he'll shoot," his captor says, jerking his head. Tony's vision is blurring. He scratches at the hand on his throat but it won't let go.
"If you keep choking the kid, he won't be giving you any phone numbers," the intruder says. The words are muffled, like when Howard is yelling at someone behind closed doors. Tony's not sure when he lost the ability to feel his hands.
"Shoot the old guy," he hears, and two loud noises ring out. Like gunshots, he thinks distantly. The world slips sideways, and the floor comes rushing up to meet him. It's the last thing he sees.
**8**
He wakes to the sound of voices and the throb of a pounding headache. The surface beneath his legs is smooth and hard, a little chilly, but there are warm arms wrapped around his upper body. The embrace is tight, but not threatening, and the voices don't sound particularly tense, either. No danger, then, but something must have happened earlier. Decision made, he takes in a deep breath and opens his eyes. He blinks up at Jarvis's relieved face.
"Tony," he says, and hugs him even tighter. "I was so worried."
Tony's confused for half a second, until the memories sink in.
"Are you hurt?" he demands, sitting up and looking him over. Jarvis just sits there, in his perfectly intact suit, with a bemused look on his face. When he doesn't find anything, Tony's head jerks up to look closely at his face. His aching head protests the movement. "You weren't moving," he explains, the memory bringing up a fresh well of panic, "and then there was a gun, and they said to shoot you, and I don't, I don't know what happened -"
"Tony," Jarvis soothes, reaching out for another hug, and Tony leans into it and tries to calm down, "I'm fine. A nice fat goose egg on the side of my head, but I'm fine."
"Promise?" asks Tony, and neither of them comment on the tiny wobble in his voice.
"I promise."
There's a delicate cough behind them. Alarmed, Tony whips around, one hand going up to his head as it throbs. There's a woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching them. She's very pretty, Tony thinks, with shoulder-length hair an amazing shade of red he can't put a name to and clear green eyes. Despite her relaxed position, the set of her shoulders speaks of grace and perfect poise; in contrast, her unnatural stillness and the almost invisible scars on her neck and hands tells him she does dangerous work.
"I didn't see your profile," he comments.
"I took it out," Jarvis says with a note of disapproval.
Tony hums. "You must be one dangerous lady."
Jarvis snorts, but the woman just tilts her head.
"He's got a good reason for removing me from your applications, I'm sure," she says. Her voice is as pretty as her face, faintly accented and smooth.
"Are you Russian?" Tony asks, curious.
Her eyebrows rise. "I am," she says, with a subtle level of forced calm. Tony latches onto this, thinking hard.
"Jarvis took out all the assassins and spies," he says. He frowns. "Are you a Russian spy?"
The corners of her lips lift. "No."
"Were you ever a Russian spy?" Tony presses. Jarvis makes a noise, squeezing his arms.
The woman eyes him carefully. "Yes."
"No, Tony," Jarvis says sharply.
Tony grins. "Can I trust you?"
"Probably not," she says straight away.
"No, you cannot," Jarvis says firmly. "Tony, she's dangerous. I pulled her file for a reason."
"How many kinds of martial arts can you do?" Tony continues, ignoring Jarvis.
"How many can you list?" she counters.
"Tony -"
"Jarvis," Tony complains. "She's cool. She's amazing. She saved our lives! I like her. Let me see her profile?"
Jarvis frowns. "Absolutely not."
"If you don't show me, I'll find it," Tony threatens. Then, to the woman, "what's your name?"
She hesitates over this one. Jarvis takes his opportunity. "Natalia Romanova," he says, "a KGB spy."
Tony's eyes go wide in surprise. His father has said enough angry things about the KGB for him to understand why Jarvis pulled her file. Still, "I thought you can't leave the KGB?"
Her lips twist into a scowl. "No," she agrees, "most people can't."
"But you did?" Tony guesses. "How come?"
Natalia Romanova looks him straight in the eye. "Do you like killing people, Tony Stark?"
Tony thinks back to his first kidnapping, when the knife he had no idea how to use sank into a man's throat. He thinks of all the blood, all the horrible sounds the kidnapper made as he died. Thinks of how, when he tugged on the knife, it slid out easily and blood spurted onto his face. Thinks of how he didn't understand what was going on, five years old and no longer as innocent as he should have been.
She can see it on his face. "Neither do I."