Note: Because of how I initially ended it, I decided it would be kinder to double up on this chapter. So the chapter is longer than usual and launches a bit more heavily into angst territory. I swear I tried to tone it down, and it will get better.
**Warnings**: This is the chapter I would caution people about. It deals strongly with the rape issue and some of the horrors that can accompany it. Already I noticed some remarks in the reviews that made me think this might upset some people. For those who find this disturbing or triggering as I've seen it put, I would advise against reading this, or at the very least, tread cautiously. I really did not pull any punches.
He wasn't doing anything right. It seemed that everything he did upset Tony or pissed him off. To be fair, Tony was not dealing well with most of them, but Steve felt a little bit like he was being singled out.
It had started with the billionaire's arrival. Tony had abandoned Steve for Bruce the instant the other scientist was in arm's reach. Steve had accepted it, knowing full well the bond those two shared was more than simple friendship. Tony and Steve were friends. Tony and Bruce were something else entirely. Steve was not sure it could be defined.
What hurt was the fact that Tony seemed to flinch away every time Steve came too close. If he did not initiate the contact, he was not having it. Things had never been this way before. Steve was not sure if it was because of the size difference now, or if Tony was simply afraid of him for some reason he did not yet know.
It was probably petty, certainly it was immature and unworthy of him, but he felt better knowing Tony had full on fled when Henry had inadvertently woken him. Supposedly Tony had known Henry for years, since back before the mutant doctor turned furry and blue, which put him at 'family friend' status.
The satisfied little portion of Steve's ridiculous brain was squashed when he realized Tony was flinching from a family friend. He was jumping every time Clint was unexpectedly close. He even cringed when Natasha touched him without warning.
It was not just him. He knew this—was horribly grateful that he could then draw the conclusion that Tony was not just reacting poorly to Steve—and it worried him. When Tony had spoken with Pepper at breakfast, he wanted to jump in and demand details.
Then, Tony was sick. Then, Steve went and got himself exiled while Natasha dealt with bathroom things. It was strange seeing her take on a motherly role like this, but Steve was not going to begrudge either her or Tony this small comfort. He wanted to. He was the leader of the Avengers. Tony should have been able to come to him for anything.
For some reason, Tony could not. He never had been able to. Probably never would. Steve wished this were not so, but they got on like oil and water sometimes. Sure, they were close, but Steve could not deny they fought. Frequently. It was a good thing, since differing opinions often made for conclusions neither of them would have found on their own, but sometimes it hurt.
Like now, when Tony wanted to see the intruder. Steve thought it was a bad idea. Tony barely looked able to stand, let alone deal with a moody teenager who had taken over his body.
"This is my tower, my rooms, and that is my fucking body!" Tony's voice rose in an unflattering shriek that even had him wincing. On the plus side, it got him to lower his voice. On the other hand, he was still adamant. "You guys, with all of your intimidation skills, have gotten nothing from her in four weeks. I have been stuck like this for that long, and I, for one, am sick of it. Get out of my way."
"You look sick, Tony," Steve tried one more time. "Maybe you should wait until you feel better."
"If I wait, I will dwell, and if I dwell, I will go in there and do something unforgivably violent," Tony said frankly. "Get out of my way, or I will make you."
"You couldn't make me," Steve grumbled, but he moved anyway.
"When I get back into my armor, I will kick your ass for that comment," Tony snapped.
Steve did not say anything, but he knew they all had thought it at one point. What if Tony was unable to fix this? Steve had been the most adamant of all of them, but he was also worried. If they could not fix this, would Tony be able to work the Iron Man armor ever again? How would he deal with it if he could not?
They would cross that bridge when they got there, he supposed, but it still made him uneasy.
In the end, it was decided that Steve and Natasha would be the ones to flank Tony into the room with their intruder. They had respected Cassie's privacy before (somewhat), but Steve knew that if the intruder tried to hide in the bathroom (as was the usual response to anyone but Natasha), they would rip the door off its hinges. Steve would gladly do it.
Surreal was probably the best word Steve could produce to describe the situation as it first happened. The intruder scrambled off the bed, looking a little tousled and bruised—Natasha had lost her temper a bit the previous night—and stared in shock as Tony entered the room.
Tony stared at the teenage girl, who gaped back, and yet it was the girl who was glaring and Stark's face that was pale with shock.
Steve saw the instant the intruder made the decision to rabbit. Tony would have hidden it better. The imposter telegraphed every move, and Steve was between the bathroom and Cassie before a single step could be taken.
"Not this time," he said grimly.
The imposter was over the bed and in the opposite corner before anything else could be said.
"Stay away from me!" Cassie demanded, the order reedy and frightened, even with Tony's deeper register to work with.
Tony didn't move from where he had planted himself, just a few steps into the room. His eyes were tired, Steve thought. This was truly a bad idea. Tony was not up to the stress of this. Natasha shot him a warning look, and he held his tongue.
"I learned quite the lesson this past month, Cassie," Tony said abruptly.
The imposter looked up, confusion sliding across the billionaire's unshaven face (perhaps four days since the last shave, from the looks of things). The real Tony tilted his borrowed head, eyes taking in what was certain to be a bizarre sight for him. Seeing himself cowering in a corner had to be disturbing. Tony, on the other hand, a sick, petite teenage girl, was the picture of control.
"I came up with all sorts of reasons those first few days," Tony mused. "I thought someone was playing a trick on me. Or trying to teach me some sort of lesson without telling me the objective. Or maybe, just maybe, I was insane. Maybe I really was some teenage girl in Hicktown, USA with the family from hell. Maybe I had created this fantasy life where I was a rich man. But my mind is that messed up, because in my fantasy, I had a father who didn't much care for me, a business partner who tried twice to kill me, and a fucking electromagnet in my chest that nearly killed me while it tried to save me."
Cassie flinched and pressed back into the corner, looking on in sick horror. It was rather like passing a dead animal on the street. As much as you didn't want to see it, you found yourself staring at it anyway.
"But then, I decided I didn't care what the reason was," Tony shrugged off the momentary anger, his thin brows furrowing in something approximating concentration. "Even if I really was some girl named Cassie Morgan, I had to get out. It took a bit, but I left that shithole behind and got here, because even if I really wasn't Tony Stark, I knew the people here would help me. Because that's what they do."
Cassie was going to cry. Steve was certain of it. That brat borrowing Tony's body was going to start blubbering, and it irked him. She had created this mess. She did not deserve the hurt tears.
"And that's what I am going to do."
Steve met Natasha's eyes and knew, in her single raised eyebrow, that they were both shocked. The first thought that flew through his mind was: Say what?
Tony stepped around the side of the bed but stopped, not quite approaching the imposter. He looked at Cassie, at the girl masquerading as a man, and his eyes were tired. They were also compassionate. It was a look Steve did not often associate with Tony. Tony Stark was many things, but he was usually more of an avenging angel than a kindhearted one.
"I've already started the ball rolling," Tony told the silent intruder. "You will get to see what the law, with all the financial backing of one of the richest men in the country, can do to your family. I hope that's what you wanted, because I'm not asking permission. As far as I'm concerned, you gave me that when you put me in your skin."
"I don't understand." Cassie looked to Natasha, then back at Tony. The fear was fading—apparently their intruder was starting to realize they were not out to hurt him…her—but the suspicion remained.
"I'm putting them in prison," Tony said bluntly. "Your uncle. Your mother. The town's deputy. Possibly your father. And if the law fails me, you can bet I've got friends who won't."
Steve did not much like the sound of that, but Natasha's lip curled, and he knew what would happen. He had not decided yet if he would let it. If he even had any say in it.
"You're saying you'd kill them," Cassie breathed.
"Accidents happen all the time," Tony said quietly. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. First off, you have to tell me something. And you will tell me. I think I've earned the right to your candor."
"My what?" That stupid look did not belong on Tony Stark's face. Steve hated it. A lot.
"Just answer me truthfully," Tony ordered. "If we switch back, will you cooperate with the authorities and tell them everything those people did to you?"
Cassie's immediate response was panic.
"I can't go back there!"
"You're not going back," Tony said bluntly. "I worked too hard to get out, and they don't get their daughter back. But you have to talk to social services, or this won't work."
"I don't… I don't understand!"
"I want my life back!" Tony snarled suddenly. "I will give you everything! Just tell me how to do it!"
There was something wrong. Steve could see it going south, and it was not because of Cassie's dumb reluctance. It was in the sudden pallor of Tony's face, the slick-sweat darkening his hair and making it stick to his face. It was in the clench of his fingers to his gut, like someone attempting to hold back the flow of blood from a brutal wound.
"Something's wrong," Natasha snapped, and they were both moving.
Cassie flinched back when Steve launched himself over the bed, landing between her and Tony. It was the exact same reaction Tony had whenever he approached too quickly, and knowing it left Steve momentarily breathless with a terrible mix of horror and rage.
Those people had done something so awful that it had damaged Tony psychologically. He was reacting to people the way an abused teenage girl did. Steve was suddenly very okay with whatever Natasha had planned for them.
Tony was doubled over, eyes and teeth clenched in pain. His breath came in rapid, hissing pants as he flailed out and caught Steve's forearm, squeezing hard and letting Steve catch his weight.
"It hurts," he groaned.
"You're bleeding through," Natasha said quietly. "That's too much blood in too short a time for a normal cycle."
"What?" Tony clutched at his stomach and did not complain when Steve scooped up the small body. He gasped for breath, looking to Natasha with confusion and the beginnings of dread in his eyes.
"Cassie!" Natasha barked. "Do you usually bleed heavily? On your period!"
The imposter quailed beneath the combined glares of Captain America and the Black Widow.
"This is important, Cassie!"
"I-I… I mean, I don't—" the intruder clutched at her hair (at Tony's shaggy hair) and shook her head wildly.
"Cassie!"
"No! I mean, not like that!"
"We're taking Tony to the hospital," Natasha ordered. Steve did not have to be told twice. He was heading toward the door, carefully cradling his hurting friend, and terrified because Tony was not making some snide comment about this.
"What's wrong?" Steve asked as Natasha opened the door for them to walk through and then closed it, locking it behind them.
"I think Beast was right," Natasha said, grimly leading them down the hallway toward the elevator. Henry was probably up in Bruce's lab. He had said he needed to monitor all their tests. "The test read negative, but I bet it wouldn't have a week ago. The girl isn't on her menstrual cycle. This looks like a miscarriage."
Tony uttered a sound that nearly drove Steve to his knees. It was a blend of bewilderment and anger and true terror. Natasha turned and touched Tony's face in a shockingly gentle manner.
"It happens, Tony," Natasha said, quiet and confident. "More often than you probably realize. But you need to be monitored at a hospital. Cap, get Clint to drive you guys to SHIELD. I'll get Beast and meet you there."
Steve was too confused and worried to do anything more than blindly obey. He got into the elevator. Natasha reached in and pushed the right floor, and then she was gone, presumably taking the stairs.
He looked at Tony, who seemed to have gone into a state of shock. The pallid face was still and caught in an expression of numb confusion. Steve was not sure if it was because of the blood loss—of which there was some; he could see trace amounts on the baggy pants—or if it was knowledge of the malady.
Clint was on his feet the instant Steve carried Tony into the main living room.
"What's wrong?" Clint demanded.
"Tony needs a hospital. I need you to take us to SHIELD medical," Steve said.
"What the fuck happened?" Clint was growing angry. It was the wrong response. Steve needed urgency. A bit of fear and maybe some righteous anger was okay. But this vivid rage was unexpected and unhelpful. "ROGERS!"
"I don't know," Steve snapped. "Natasha said she thinks it's a miscarriage—"
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Clint snatched up his jacket and was at the elevator beside Steve in an instant. "Goddamn it, Tony! Why didn't you tell us!"
Tony flinched, and suddenly there were tears. Steve held the frail body closer, terrified by this reaction, and not knowing quite what else to do when Tony turned into his shoulder.
"How could he have known?" Steve snapped, angry at Clint now for having caused this.
"Don't you know what a miscarriage is?" Clint snarled. "It's what happens when a pregnancy is spontaneously rejected! It means, Captain, that Tony was fucking raped, because he sure as hell wouldn't have had sex like this otherwise!"
Tony's entire body heaved, and then Steve heard him screaming. Horrified but unable to do anything but hold the shaking form, Steve listened as Tony muffled the howls in his shoulder.
Clint looked ill. He choked off whatever else he had been wanting to say and led them out of the elevator toward the garage. Steve did not even complain when Clint picked out one of the fastest looking cars and hopped in.
Tony could be angry at them later. For now, he was still shouting himself hoarse, his hand digging into Steve's shirt with such force that he was probably bruising the skin beneath. Steve was not bothered by the pain. Knowing what Tony had suffered made it hard to even feel the pinching.
"We should have been looking."
Steve barely realized he was speaking. Clint glanced at him, then threw the car into gear and pealed out of the parking lot much faster than was remotely safe. Steve braced against the door and held Tony tight, his hand cradling the skull as Tony tried to smother himself in Steve's shirt. It obviously was not working. Tony still had enough breath to continue his broken wailing.
"We knew it wasn't Tony—knew it for weeks. We should have been out looking."
"We didn't know he was alive, let alone in some girl's body," Clint gripped the wheel, white knuckles jutting out in stark relief as he tapped the horn and swerved around a car that was not moving nearly fast enough. "And if we had known, what do you think we would have found? Nowheresville, Oregon? It's a big country, Cap. With the brat not talking, we had no idea where to start. He's not blaming you, so stop blaming yourself."
It was hard to take heart in those words when the small body in his arms was working its hardest to shake apart at the seams. Tony seemed to have given up on the shouting, but that was a small comfort. Steve combed his fingers through the silky hair, hating that it wasn't Tony's hair but doing it anyway.
"Keep him breathing into your shirt," Clint's grim order had Steve's hand twitching in surprise. "He's hyperventilating."
Which was how Steve found himself muttering soothing nonsense at the person who Steve had thought incapable of producing tears, let alone breaking down into hysterics. It was possibly just the hormonal female body, but that did not make this any less difficult to hear. Nor did it make the hysteria any less real. It just meant that Tony was displaying his distress in a manner other than frightening calm, which also did not make it less frightening.
The murmurs did not help. They certainly did not help when the car screeched to a stop in front of SHIELD medical. The instant Tony caught a glimpse of the building, he latched onto Steve, arms tight behind Steve's neck with the obvious intent of not letting go anytime soon.
"Tony, you need to let the doctors look at you."
Tony's head shook in wild denial, his voice lifting in wordless panic when a nurse pulled at his arms. The nurse jerked away, partly from the startled shriek and partly because of the dark look Steve shot her.
Clint muttered with another nurse, and they stopped trying to pull Tony away. Steve was hustled into the clinic and into an emergency examination area. Again, Tony refused to let go when Steve attempted to put him on the bed.
"Don't leave me," Tony gasped, clinging with all his might. "Don't you dare leave me here with them."
Steve barely noticed the needle. Tony didn't see it until far too late. Had it been a nurse wielding the syringe, he might have recoiled in time, but it was Clint who snatched it up and jabbed it into Tony's thigh, emptying the thing with a brutal press of the plunger.
Tony released a shocked sound, eyes searching for the culprit. Steve winced and tried to untangle suddenly clumsy fingers from his shirt as he settled Tony onto the gurney.
"You're going to be okay," he promised. Tony's red-rimmed eyes were so wrought with fear that Steve could not just let it be. He cradled Tony's face, his hand startlingly large against the warm face—fever, his mind whispered—and reassured him. "I won't leave you alone. Natasha will be here soon, with Henry, okay?"
"Broo… shh," Tony stumbled over the word, too heavy on the first part and lisping through the end of it. Steve recognized the name.
"I'll call him," he said instantly. "I'll get him here."
Tony shook his head drunkenly. He wanted to say more. Steve could see it in the frustrated eyes. But the sedative was strong, and he was losing the battle. His hand came up again, reaching blindly. Steve caught the hand and smoothed back Tony's hair.
Impulsively, Steve pressed his lips to the clammy forehead, seeking to soothe himself as much as Tony. When he pulled back, he had to wonder if it had helped or hurt. Tony's eyes were shut, and there was a tear sliding down his cheek.
"It'll be fine," Clint said, pulling him back as the gurney, with Tony on it, was rolled further into the building. "Very few people actually die from this."
"I said I'd stay," Steve said. "I need you to get Bruce."
"He seemed pretty edgy this morning," Clint winced. "Maybe I should bring a sedative for him."
"He's been pretty good about knowing what he can and can't handle lately," Steve said dully. He felt drugged himself. The adrenaline and fear was wearing off, leaving weary anxiety. It had been a long couple of days. A long month, really. "Clint, what the hell are we going to do?"
Clint looked at him, surprise on his face. It was probably the shock of Captain America asking for his advice. But Steve had no one else to ask. The person he usually went to was unconscious on a gurney somewhere in SHIELD medical.
"Nothing," Clint said frankly.
Steve frowned.
"You yelled at him for not telling us."
"Well, yeah," Clint snorted. "But let's be honest, Rogers. What the hell do either of us know about this shit? Nat's been taking care of it. She's doing a good job, too."
Natasha's behavior suddenly made sense. The protective streak she had suddenly developed, along with the physically affectionate displays and calm control over any situation where Tony was concerned. She knew. She had probably known about all of this since sending Steve on a supply run the previous afternoon.
"I'll get Banner."
Steve nodded numbly. There was not much else he say that would help this situation. He did not even watch Clint leave. Determined to keep his promise, he marched over to the nurse's station to find where Tony had been taken.
Bruce was holding up surprisingly well. Of course, Clint had not been worried. Bruce had the self-control of a saint.
Okay, so maybe he had retrieved Thor before going to tell Bruce the news, but that was just common sense. Bruce had not had an 'incident' in weeks. He had not lost control and transformed for a much longer time than that. Clint was only taking precautions because Bruce had looked a little freaked out earlier.
"I knew something like this had happened," Bruce had admitted when Clint told him Tony was in the hospital as well as Natasha's theory as to why they brought him there. "The bruising, his clinging—I've seen that kind of behavior too many times not to know."
"He's only clinging to you, Bruce," Clint had told him smartly. "You do realize that, right? He's taking help from Nat, and letting everyone else fawn over him, but he's always looking to you."
"Anthony and Doctor Banner share a bond deeper than that of mere friends," Thor had then pronounced in his usual grand manner.
"You heard it here first," Clint had been unable to keep his sharp tongue quiet at that. At least it was Bruce. If it had been Tony, he would have expected a snide retort. Bruce had just sighed and collected his jacket.
Which brought them to SHIELD, waiting outside the emergency surgery with Storm and Steve, the latter of whom had been ejected when Natasha arrived with Beast.
Clint had to admit he was shocked that Tony was friendly with the great, blue-furred mutant. Tony struck him as the type of guy who had not ventured outside his social circles much. But then, he had known Beast since when the man was merely Henry McCoy, super-smart scientist with big hands and feet. As much of an asshole as Tony could be, he was not the type of person to dismiss a man simply because he turned into a blue chia pet.
Now, Beast was the only doctor in there who knew that the girl they were treating was not, in fact, Cassie Morgan. Natasha must have arrived shortly after Clint left, or Steve would have still been trying to explain how Tony Stark was involved. It was best for all involved if Stark's name just did not arise. As far as the SHIELD doctors knew, this was just a girl they had picked up who may or may not have some latent mutant abilities. (And if they were testing for the X-gene, well it was just too bad that they were getting a negative result.)
It was only a couple hours later that Beast and one of the SHIELD doctors came out to talk to them. Clint was not one hundred percent certain, but he thought he recognized that doctor. Saunders or something similar. Clint had been in medical a lot.
"Is he okay?" Steve asked instantly. He was a little sore at being thrown out of the room. Clint casually dug his elbow into Steve's side, which did nothing to hurt the super soldier but alerted him to his error. "I mean Cassie. Is Cassie okay?
"The anesthesiologist is taking her out of sedation right now," the doctor told them, unperturbed by both Steve's stumble and the large, blue-furred man beside him. Yeah. Definitely Saunders. "We put her on antibiotics to combat the infection, and she'll be weak for a while, but she should be fine in a few days."
"What happened?" Bruce inquired.
"Your friend, Miss Romanov, was correct," Beast said.
"Fuck," Clint growled.
"How did it get that bad?" Bruce ignored Clint's cursing, pressing for the important information. "I know it's never pleasant, but I was under the impression that a miscarriage had fewer symptoms."
"We think Miss Morgan miscarried several days ago," Saunders explained. "Sometimes in cases like this, where it's later in the first trimester, the body won't expel the dead embryo on its own. It remains trapped in the uterus, which creates opportunities for infection."
Clint cringed. Everyone else was flinching too. It was hard not to. The description was gruesome and, well, just plain gross.
"We cleared the uterus," Saunders continued, plowing forward despite the discomfort of the mostly male audience. "Between that and the antibiotics, Miss Morgan should be feeling better in no time."
"Can you run a DNA test?" Bruce demanded quietly. "On the aborted fetus. Is there enough for a parental DNA test?"
"Oh. Uh…"
"I'll take over from here, Doctor," Beast said politely. "I'm sure you have other patients with whom you need to contend."
It was a coldly polite dismissal if Clint ever heard one. Saunders looked pretty startled. But hearing that kind of comment from a large man with blue fur and a mouthful of predator's teeth tended to make a person listen. The other doctor nodded, passed the file to Beast, and made a quick retreat.
"There are cameras," Clint remarked. "A lot of them."
"Fury's going to find out sooner or later," Bruce murmured distractedly. "Hank, you should have told us you were running a pregnancy test."
"My apologies, Bruce, but Anthony requested that I keep it quiet unless it came back positive," Beast said. "However, I felt it unwise for him to deal with it alone. I brought Miss Romanov into our confidence."
"If it was late first trimester, then conception was before this mix up," Bruce abruptly changed tactics. Clint frowned. Did that mean…? Maybe Tony hadn't been—
"As far as I am aware, no one else knew," Beast said, baring his impressive canines in a grimace. "If you're hoping the assault never happened to Anthony, you're unfortunately mistaken. He has already confirmed it."
Clint was not sure legal action would be enough for this crew. He knew it really was not enough for him. The instant he knew who had done this to Tony, that bastard was going to suffer.
"He always has played his cards close to his chest," Beast sighed. "Right now, he's battling an infection and what looks to be a strain of the flu virus."
"What caused the miscarriage?" Clint demanded. Not that he wanted Tony to have to figure out how to deal with a teenage girl's pregnancy firsthand, but somehow this seemed worse.
"There are numerous factors," Beast said, which meant to Clint that he was only guessing. "The most common reasons are a defect in the mother's body or a defect in the fetus's chromosomes. Cassie Morgan is perfectly healthy otherwise, so it is likely the latter. I am guessing now, but I would imagine it was caused by the combination of the stress—both physical and emotional—of crossing the country as well as the fact that the father was most likely too closely related to produce a viable offspring."
Clint saw red.
"Say that again." That was Steve, sounding more dangerous than Clint had ever heard him sound. Bruce was employing deep breathing techniques. Thor's hand was solid on Bruce's shoulder.
"Most often, in cases like this, the culprit is a brother, an uncle, or even the father," Beast said gently. "Human beings rarely are capable of producing healthy offspring with their own relatives. It's probably a blessing that the pregnancy aborted."
"This is a vile thing," Thor declared, his anger clear in his eyes. "I find it appalling that anyone could commit such a sin."
"Please contain yourselves," Beast pleaded. "Justice comes when we find the culprit. For now, Anthony will need your support, not your anger."
Clint reached out and clasped Bruce's forearm, looking over and seeing the muted rage in those green-tinged eyes.
Yeah. There would be blood spilled before this thing was over.
Natasha stayed with Tony the rest of the day. Considering the intrusiveness of the procedure, he was handling this very well. Natasha suspected things would be different if he had not been sedated through the worst of it, but she imagined he was feeling it now.
Of course, he had not reacted well to sedation. An hour later, he was still struggling to keep the contents of his stomach down. So perhaps he was too focused on his nausea to be bothered with anything else.
"I hate this body so much," Tony moaned after the latest bout of vomiting. Natasha held a glass of water, and he sipped from the straw. After a rinse and spit, he swallowed some of the water gratefully.
"She seems to have a weak constitution," Natasha agreed.
It hardly seemed possible, but Tony looked worse now than he had when they brought him in. There were deep circles around his eyes, and his face was pasty and tinting toward gray. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness, a blink lasting anywhere from a second to twenty minutes. When he came back out, he reacted as though no time had passed, genuinely confused when he discovered the time.
A few hours later, it seemed as though the worst of the sedation was wearing off. Tony sank back to the pillows, his hand automatically finding Banner's head and resting in the lank hair.
None of them looked all that pretty that evening. Banner looked particularly haggard, though he was sleeping as much as Tony. A heavy dose of valium ensured that.
"Does Fury know yet?" Tony asked, gazing at his hand as he prodded through Banner's hair, picking up a lock and pushing it back absentmindedly.
"Most likely," Natasha picked up her book and sat back after trading out bins with a nurse. She was beginning to have hope that the sickness was going away, but she would not be caught unprepared. "I don't think he'll make an appearance though. The last time he interfered with us, Rogers put him in his place."
Tony's lips pulled up in a tired smirk.
"I would've paid to see that. Is anyone with Cassie?"
"Thor and Storm."
Thor was enraptured by the weather-controlling mutant. Once certain he would not be needed to help contain the Hulk (since Banner agreed and submitted to sedation on the condition that he be put in Tony's room), Thor had agreed to head back to the tower to make certain Cassie did not starve or do something foolish while the team was away.
"I don't understand what you're doing with her. Will you truly help her if she tells you how to get back to normal?"
Tony sighed. It looked like it took great effort to roll his head on the pillow to look at her, but he did it anyway.
"I would like to say I'll help her either way, but I honestly don't know what to do if she refuses to cooperate," he admitted. "It's one thing for me to try to carry on a normal life like this, but it's another thing entirely to know my face is still there, a mask on a teenage girl who can't make it through high school remedial math."
Natasha felt herself smirking.
"You went to high school?"
Tony grimaced.
"I didn't have much choice in the matter," he grumbled. "They thought I was her, and I had no way to explain myself without sounding like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. It was exceedingly dull."
"You did the homework and everything?"
He shot her a sour look.
"If you really want me to complete the plebeian image, you might be pleased to know that I spent my evenings and weekends working at their family diner," he told her. "It was a blast serving dinners to people while managing crutches, by the way."
"I hope you got paid."
"Yeah." Teenagers' faces really were well suited to expressing sarcasm. It came across better than when Tony was normal. "I got to keep living under their roof."
Natasha did not press for more. She could already see the darkness sliding behind Tony's eyes, moving forward. Silence was one of the best responses she could have offered with Stark. He would shake himself out of his own funk. At least, he would try.
"The teachers knew something was up before anyone else did," Tony said abruptly, a half smile on a pale face. "Cassie's not much of a student, and they were not particularly supportive."
"What did you do?" Natasha asked heavily. Tony smirked.
"You ask that like it's automatically my fault," he said, not really complaining. "That teacher was a bitch, so you know. She had it coming."
Natasha could not quite contain the smirk that tugged her lips up. Banner grunted and shifted under Tony's hand, derailing their conversation. Then, he opened his eyes and spoke with a tongue made heavy by sedation.
"She had what coming?"
"Eavesdropper," Tony said fondly. Banner did not protest the fingers teasing through the hair at his temples. Natasha found the familiar behavior interesting. Tony was not usually so blatantly physical with his affection. "Nothing much. I told her I had a math problem that was giving me trouble. She liked to humiliate her students into learning, so she asked me to put it on the board."
"I can't imagine you having trouble with high school math," Banner slurred, struggling to wake fully.
"I wasn't even having trouble with the problem I gave her," Tony retorted. "She just pissed me off. So I asked her to tell me how much I would have to spend to launch one of my satellites into geosynchronous orbit."
"Rocket science. I bet that went over well."
"She sent me to the principal's office," Tony admitted. "Not one of my better moments."
"You're saying you didn't spend most of your childhood years in the principal's office?" Natasha mocked.
"Are you kidding?" Tony snorted. "I'm Tony Stark. Even as a kid that meant something."
"You were a model student, weren't you?" Banner asked. Tony twitched.
"Once they started letting me learn at my own pace," he mumbled. He glanced at Natasha. "When am I going to be let out of this place? I hate it here."
"When Beast clears you," Natasha replied. "It's only been twenty minutes since the last time you threw up. Give yourself time to recover."
"I am not staying here overnight."
"It's after ten already," Natasha told him. "Just try to get some sleep. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can get you back up and running."
"And Cassie?" Tony demanded. "We're just making her cool her heels in the guest bedroom until I feel better?"
"That's been her home for the past month," Banner said quietly. "A couple more days won't make any difference."
"She just saw someone wearing her face collapse," Tony snapped. "It makes a huge difference. You seriously kept her locked up in that tiny room all month?"
"Having her out and about upset the others." They looked up when Rogers walked into the room. He looked tired but better than anyone else. The serum did much to keep the man up and running when everyone else was dropping from exhaustion. "I felt it wise to keep her someplace where she could not cause trouble or be hurt when someone decided she was too irritating to live with."
"No wonder she won't talk to you," Tony sighed.
"You forget." Banner was more alert now, and he reached out to tap at the center of Tony's chest, where the arc reactor would be if it had been his body instead of the girl's. "We have to look at that face and try to think it's not you. Every time she spoke, I wanted to hit her, but I couldn't because it was your face."
Tony sighed again, eyelids drooping. It was amazing he had remained conscious so long. Still, Natasha was not entirely sure he was going to sleep now.
"I want her brought here," he said, voice dimming as he drifted. "I don't care what you have to do to get it done. I need her, and I need Pepper. We're going to make this happen."
"And if she refuses to help?"
"Then we find out what the hell she did and reverse it ourselves," Tony declared.
Natasha looked at Rogers. He considered Tony for a brief moment before looking to Banner. The scientist's lips were pursed in annoyance, but he lifted his eyes and nodded.
A day ago Natasha would have thought this was a bad idea. Now, after having seen Tony's interaction with Cassie, she thought it was better than doing nothing. If anyone could talk someone into doing something they did not want to do, it was Tony Stark.
Natasha did not want to talk to Cassie. The last time they had spoken she had snarled at the girl. Before that, Natasha had responded to the suicide threat by tying her to the bed.
She had uncuffed the irritant a few hours later. It was not out of sympathy. She just knew the threat had been empty, and that she did not want to clean up when the body finally gave way to nature's needs. No one could go that long without using a restroom.
It was rather awkward slinking into the room, knowing her cover as the sympathetic friend had long since been blown.
Somehow it was worse now, seeing Stark's face looking back at her with that sleepy, mistrustful frown.
Before the Avengers business, Stark did not trust Natasha even slightly. Her fault. The combination of her lies and her association with Nick Fury had clinched it. Fortunately for the Avengers, Tony was not the type to let grudges stand in the way of saving the world. Nor did he let it prevent him from giving Natasha a second chance to prove they were on the same side. If he had, she would not be living with the rest of them at Avengers Tower.
Still, that look was wrong on his face. Stark was a pro at hiding his feelings from the press. When he did not like someone, his face went carefully blank. There was no frowning, no sidelong glares when he thought no one was looking. There was a media smile, a solid handshake, and (so long as anyone remotely related to the press was far out of hearing distance) a frank declaration of how horrible you were. Tony Stark was nothing if not straightforward with people he disliked.
Stark still occasionally gave Natasha that look.
With Tony in the medical wing of SHIELD, it was more irritating than ever to stare at his face and know it wasn't him. Especially when that person was hugging a blanket to his chest and twisting his face into an unfamiliar expression, glaring warily through his eyes.
Tony wanted Cassie kept safe and unharmed. That meant Natasha had to play nice.
"Tony wants to talk to you," she told the cowering girl flatly. "We're transferring you back to SHIELD."
The fear melted away in a wash of concern. Natasha felt herself frowning now, uncomprehending of this reaction.
"Is she okay?" Cassie asked anxiously.
"He," Natasha corrected. "Tony being stuck in your body makes him no more a girl than you being in his body makes you male." She paused, then met Cassie's stare, not quite sure what else to say to that undisguised anxiety. "And yes, he'll be fine."
"Should I uh… I haven't showered yet today."
"I'm sure we'd all appreciate you cleaning up," Natasha said wryly. "I'll wait outside. Knock when you're ready to go."
"Right," Cassie slid out of bed, going for the drawer of sweatshirts and running pants that had been her wardrobe for the past month. She paused in the act of pulling out a hoodie. "But he's okay."
"You're just going to have to talk to him and find out," Natasha declared. She did not have the patience for this. "Bring a toothbrush and another change of clothes. You may have to spend the night. I'll leave a bag by the door."
Cassie nodded and hurried into the bathroom.
Note: Breathe out. Nothing else will be this gritty.