One Week Earlier

Pepper had had enough paperwork for one day, so reclining in the big sofa at the top of the tower with a glass or two was the least distressing thing she could think of. She let a long relaxed sigh escape her lips and leaned her head back to rest on the rim of the couch. Just as she was about to close her eyes, Tony Stark flew into the room out the elevator and jumped on the seat beside her.

"There goes my relaxation," she intoned.

"Oh, hey, don't be like that I actually have good news."

"What's the bad news then?" she inquired, bringing her head back up and looking at him.

"I never said there was bad news."

"I didn't have to guess very hard to know that Tony."

"Well..."

"Come on spit it out. I want to go back to de-stressing. Okay, go."

"Hmm. Ah. Well. The team-"

"The team? That's what you guys are calling yourselves?"

"Hey don't interrupt its my turn, and yes, if your highness would let me continue-"

"Whatever."

"So, like I was saying, the team, has comes to a decision, of sorts, and I thought, this being a loving and open relationship and all, that you might want to know what that is."

"You're damn right I do."

"How much have you had tonight?"

"Enough."

"Right...starting to sound like me... don't do that. Anyway. We've decided to go after sergeant Barnes." he ended quickly, tensing up for a surprised slap he was sure to get.

"Who?"

"Wait, you don't know?"

"No, I obviously don't know, Tony. I'm not always up to date with your superspy shenanigans."

"But I thought...?"

"Its more than just checking up on you. It's harder after well, you know."

"Mmm. Coulson."

"Damnit. I'm really drunk, Tony, we shouldn't be having conversation right now."

"Listen, just listen. I know, and in a minute and gonna carry you to the room, and your gonna have a nice long bath and go to bed but for right now, I reallyneed to talk to you." He gave her those puppy dog eyes she couldn't resist and she nodded.

"Thank you honey, just hear me out for a sec."

"Okay, okay, just tell me already."

Tony stared hard at Pepper, and his eyebrows pulled together. He started to say something and opened his mouth, but closed it again.

"Y'know, you're completely right. I need a shower and you need a good book and sleep." He decided as he jumped up from the couch and pulled her up by her hands. "Come on, let's get you cozy."

"Fine, whatever Tony. I just don't know why you didn't talk to me about this earlier."

"You were in a meeting, or something or other... Doesn't matter, I'll tell you tomorrow, I promise. I need to do a little research still. Love you." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and shut the door to their bedroom.

The hallway seemed longer on his way back from the room, and the plush leather couches didn't hold any respite from the ache beginning to form in the back of his head from lack of sleep and worry, among other things.

He stood for a minute staring at a wall, and then glanced down to see the wine bottle. He swiped it and wondered over to his mini bar and plopped down in the first stool his legs found while running a hand through his already unkempt hair. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block out all thoughts of the meeting and the past events. Tried to forget for just a moment about New York. About Killian and his red hot cronies. And what happened to Pepper. God, she didn't deserve any of this, why did it have to be her? He was glad, too, that he never told S.H.I.E.L.D. about her new anomaly, they probably would've scooped her up first chance and who the he'll knows what would've happened to her. The thought passed his mind whether or not to tell her about some of the stuff he found anyway. He wasn't even sure if it meant anything, but all the news articles hid something disturbing. Either he was on to something interesting, or he was so paranoid that he was making something out of nothing.

Who was he kidding? The shit was hitting the fan at an ever increasing rate. Should he tell Fury? Is he even going to want to know? Questions swirled in his head, clouding over the buzz he was getting from drinking, and resulting in a full blown migraine.

The fact of the matter was that the avengers weren't the avengers so much as they were the randomly assembled sets of people. Steve and Natasha had been working together ever since New York. Bruce had been traveling the country doing research and following odd leads. He never said what on, just that he had to find information.

Selvig and Thor's girlfriend had some misadventures of their own. That was after the giant scary black ship crashed in London. When S.H.I.E.L.D. was still operating, they cleaned up the mess. God knows where all that alien scrap metal was now. Pepper had been keeping him busy with paperwork and bureaucracy, even though he had new plans in the works. Mainly plans for suits.

And Barton? No clue. Nobody had seen him since before or after the meeting earlier today. And Tasha kept completely silent when asked. Nobody bothered asking her after she got all quiet.

The team was partial, and honestly, it wasn't good for anyone. With the recent events, Tony was no longer feeling safe in his own city, so he did the only thing he could think of to make him feel safe: he built suits.

He knocked back the last of his drink, went to the elevator, and jammed buttons near the bottom until he hit the right one and the doors slid shut. The ride was short, and the doors opened almost as soon as they closed.

It wasn't that he was ignoring Pepper's wishes, it was different now that they'd been attacked so many times. The suits he made before the Killian problem were an extreme hobby. But not these. These new ones, they were... purposeful. If ever they were attacked again, he would have a few select suits with the right abilities for the attack. There was a prototype of a space suit. There were several of them that used the light reflective panels from the old helicarrier, except he modified them to switch on at a moment's notice. He could fly anywhere, and no one would ever see him. In total, there were ten suits. Tony couldn't bring himself to make any more than that.

He waltzed through the doors into the lab, crossing over to a work bench, and started rummaging through his tools. He set to work slowly rebuilding an intricate price of metal work and electrical wiring. The smell of warm steel and rubber started wafting through the air.

He couldn't quit thinking about the meeting earlier. They had decided on going after sergeant Barnes, but there wasn't any sort of plan. Just a manhunt. From what he'd heard about him, he was a regular soldier back in the second world war, actually met his dad. Then, after Steve formed his little troupe of war mongers, a mission went wrong and ended with a supposedly very dead sergeant Barnes at the bottom of a very large icy canyon. The reports said a search party had been sent out to find a body, but they found a huge icy river at the bottom had swept away any evidence of humans, and they were under constant fire from a few stragglers still hiding away in the mountains. Apparently he had no family to go back to, so the infamous KIA letter was given directly to Steve. Harsh. Sad that the kid had been through so much already, and to have his friend come back from the grave as an assassin for the KGB and HYDRA? It's definitely a lot to think on...

Tony didn't get any sleep that night. Or the next.


The museum smelled musty. It smelled like years of old artifacts simmering on hot summer days, being touched, handled, and covered up again, all with a thick coat of dust. Sunlight delicately filtered through dim windows covered in white plastic blinds. The l.e.d. lights had all been shut off, and the last of the customers were filing out for the day with screaming children and drinks in hand.

"Don't forget next week's planetarium special showing of Saturn. Tickets are five dollars. We are now closing. Thank you." A bored sounding woman said and shut off the speaker system.

The silence grew until it stood still. A musty clock in an antique casing stood stoically at the end of a long cream colored hallway, still ticking away even after years of disuse. Knights covered in pallid armor lined the hallway, standing on blocks of polished wood. They no longer had their shiny luster, but still looked as regal as in the storybooks. The walls were dressed in tattered old strips of wallpaper hailing colors of leafy green and light pink in a crisscross pattern.

Heavy footsteps made their way down the hallway, pausing slightly to listen. There was a security guard outside. Older. Lacking in muscular strength. Continues in a loop around the building every two hours. Two windows, one side door that leads into the offices, more exit points in the next room. Assessment; not a threat. Action; hide.

A lean figure shadowed itself into a dark corner near a suit of armour, and waited. The elderly security guards turned and came down the hallway, stopping in the middle to check his watch, then continued until he was out of sight. The figure slipped back out from behind the armour, and made it a point of stepping more quietly through the museum.

He rounded a corner, and saw a grand arch entryway, all decorated with red white and blue ribbons and banners. Large cardboard posters with a heroic looking Captain America ordained the walls, and he caught sight of a light blue glow coming from the next exhibit room.

Upon entering, he could see a classic old motorcycle replica on display, and a plaque under its front tire explaining it's service and who rode upon it. A video memorial to Captain Steve Rogers played on a loop, and so he sat down on the floor and watched it play over and over again. After the twelfth or so time, he stood up again and wandered over to the memorial that he had been avoiding. He only got a brief look at the picture of the man he was supposed to be before he was pushed along with the mid afternoon crowds. But now, he had all the time he needed, and he poured over every word, and every syllable, until the thing was memorized. And when he had it down, he would walk away again only to walk right back, for fear of forgetting.

He looked at the picture again. Wrong hair. Wrong clothes. Wrong face. Wrong body. But... right eyes. It was strange seeing a man who looked like him, but not at all like him, but had his eyes. If not for those eyes, he would have left this place hours ago, and been on his way. He was this person. Maybe not now, but he used to be this man.

A silent sound caught his attention, and he snapped out of his zone. It was the approaching footsteps of someone who was still in the building. And very close. At least one fifty. Six feet. Very strong. Trained to be light on their feet. Three exit points, two near the entrance, and one through the skylight. Assessment; possible threat. Action; blend in.

"Hey, oh, I didn't think anyone was still here. The museum closed an hour ago...hey you okay?"

The soldier had pulled his ball cap down over his face to hide it, and shoved his arms into the sweater pockets. Upon hearing the voice, he made his first tactical mistake; he looked up.

It was the target. It was the mission. Why was the mission here? Was he followed? Does he recognize him? Will he take him back to his captors? No. keep looking down, the target wont notice.

He ducked his head again and said in a gruff voice, "Musta lost track of time."

"Oh. Well. Looks like we've both been caught then." Steve offered a small smile to the mysterious man covering his face.

The soldier glanced upwards again, fear flashing in his eyes. I've been discovered. Assessment; threat. Action; leave. He began to back away from the captain, and walk briskly out the archway.

"Hey man, it's okay! I come here sometimes. To think. It's fine really, I'm on good terms with the manager, you can stay if you want." Steve offered apologetically, shuffling his feet a bit.

But the soldier kept walking. The thing that happened next happened so quickly, he wasn't even sure he could have avoided it even if he wanted to. A stolen wallet slipped out of the pocket where he left hand rested, and fell to the floor. Steve was over in a flash, trying to be helpful, scooping up the wallet and reaching out to give it back.

"Oh, you dropped this-"

Steve stopped and stared at the hand he was offered. The soldier realized too late that he went to retrieve the wallet with his left hand.

"Buck?"

Everything stopped for a moment as the soldier thought over his mistake. Too late now. Action; attack? attack. ATTACK. no. Steve looked up into the soldier's eyes and saw a frozen face. Not a muscle moved as the soldier struggled to process a plan of action. He ended up running. Running faster than he thought possible. Anything to get away from this confusing mess. Steve jolted into action and gave chase, but after he turned down the second hallway, the soldier was nowhere to be seen. Not wasting any time, he pulled out his phone and called the first number he thought of.

"Hello? Tony? I saw him. Yeah. No I really saw him this time. He was in the museum with me. Could you? Perfect. Thanks again."

Steve stood in in front of his friend's memorial for a long time. It was nearly five in the morning before he left.


A/N: Tell me what you guys think? I have LOTS planned for this story. Up next: Dr. Banner to the rescue!