Some the references in this chapter are supposed to make you not like them, and feel uncomfortable. (This isn't described in detail, just very much hinted at references.) Please stop reading if you feel you have to. Thanks.

Tony knew, when he woke up he was in trouble.

His eyes glanced feverishly around; given what he could muster, he was in a dark, windowless damp room. It was a complete box, and only as big as about two average sized men lying on the floor either way.

He rolled to his side and his breath hitched. That didn't seem too great.

He'd been in bad situations before. The fact he could see in this room was the bright blue glow that fell from his chest. It was an empty, almost concrete room. How original.

He let himself move, pick himself up and test standing – it was good he didn't wake up with anything too bad, just the traces of what felt like a bruised side.

There must be a camera somewhere, because moments after he woke up, someone walked in. A heavy metal door that sounded like a hundred locks to open up.

A small figure, really. Not menacing at all. Covered head with the typical balaclava, but also a mask. A pig one no less and Tony grimaced, he'd only ever seen those in some sick psychopaths sex fetish videos – The last time he opened a video on some shady internet forum.

"Tony Stark."

The voice was muffled, but somewhat familiar. But Tony knew a lot of people, it was as good as anyone.

"…Yes?" He answered, trying to see through what light his chest emitted to see if this guy was armed. He was.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Not for the beds, I'm sure."

A small, grunted laugh came from the pig-man. Tony deducted he held a baton in his hand – police issue. The guy had some connections or maybe killed an officer. It was too vague to speculate. He was sure that this guy would have a concealed gun somewhere, probably locked and hidden in case Tony tried to play it smart and grab it.

He was thinking about it after all.

"I want to talk." The pig scoffed, pacing from side to side. Freedom was just a few steps away as the door hung open, to a dimly lit corridor. "I want you to tell me everything."

"About?" Tony mused him, trying to formulate a plan. He was in his armor not too long ago, it had to be nearby. How did they even get it off of him?

"You," He responded simply. "I want to know about you."

"Uh," Tony paused, mouth shutting rather quickly with a perked brow. "… Look, if this is some weird way to try and make me swoon with Stockholm syndrome you have another thing coming."

"If you don't tell me about you," the pig-man responded rather simply. "I'll break something."

Sail

IV

Romanoff.

Natasha had been charged with watching Tony for a while, giving Steve some space. She heard about his words, theories, and had regular reports from the psychiatrists.

Tony just wasn't getting better, and when it seemed like he was, he'd just retreat into that wonderful mind of his.

He sat, looking at the coffee he had made himself. Steve had warned her that Tony wouldn't eat or drink anything from other people, but he was more the capable of getting drinks for himself. It was just the eating that was the problem.

"Hey, Tony." She offered a fake smile - one she'd worn through many interrogations in her time. She wanted to give Stark a real one, but couldn't. There was nothing to smile about here. "Want to talk about anything?"

He didn't answer. She expected that much. Instead she tried a different approach, hands slinking across his shoulders with slender fingers rubbing gently against the knots tied somewhere in his muscle tissue. He didn't move.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" She let her voice lower to a whisper. Fingers wrapping in circles and she felt his muscles relax. To her, that was getting somewhere. "I just want to hear you speak to me."

"Pepper." He muttered, causing her to almost freeze with surprise. "Do they still have Pepper?" He kept his eyes on his coffee staring at it as if it held the answer.

"… No one's got Pepper." He responded quite simply. "No one has ever had Pepper. She's been here with us, waiting for you."

He went quiet again. As if he didn't want to ask any more questions. But Natasha wasn't as forgiving as Steve. She would push. And she did.

Her fingers trod in light brushes past his shoulders, arms hooking across her neck as she pressed her warmth against him, whispering into his ear softly.

"Why? Who said Pepper was anywhere?"

Tony was stubbornly quiet. He didn't flinch from her touch, or move away. He let her do what she wanted, his eyes just staring down into the cup of coffee that was already cold. He'd hardly drank from it.

"She was here the other day. She spoke to you, don't you remember?"

"Yeah."

"So, why do you ask if they still have her?"

"Because she's with them, to keep me alive."

Natasha found her arms uncoiling from him. She hadn't considered that this was an inside job. She thumbed nervously for once – her and Pepper got on to some degree, she'd worked closely with the woman and always wanted the best for Tony.

"What did she do?"

"She slept with them. I watched."

Natasha felt sick to her stomach. She was no stranger to torture, she'd seen bad things happen to good people; but something like this shouldn't happen on home ground. She moved in front of him, turning his head so he'd look at her. He was blank, unreadable, eyes distant like they had been for the past week and a half.

"What else?"

She knew this was hard for him, but she needed more information.

He didn't answer. He went quiet again, retreated. He'd always do that after so long.

Her fingertips brushed across his beard. It was perfectly cut, one of the things Clint had done when they found him. He said it was weird to see him overgrown at the chin. He didn't do a too bad of a job after all. Hairs were beginning to grow back though; she'd call Clint in to do it again. They all looked after their own.

She stared at him for that moment before she finally let go. The Black Widow leaned down and pressed her lips lightly on the top of his head.

"We'll fix this," She spoke softly to the strands. It was hard to see the billionaire just look at her, broken, forgone and distant.

She removed herself, deciding that was enough guilty feelings that she would allow herself for the time being. Instead she flipped out her phone, pressing a button and listening closely.

When the call was answered, there was no greeting.

"I need Pepper Potts to be watched carefully for the next few days." She spoke silently, turning her face to Tony's who just looked back at his coffee. "She's our lead."

Steve didn't stay away for long. He was walking in on Natasha, who was pouring Tony warmed coffee that she and he knew he wouldn't touch. She smiled at Steve and he smiled back.

"Will you drink your coffee, Tony?" Natasha said rather simply. "You made it, I just poured it."

Steve was ready to just watch it all go to hell again. Watch Tony refuse to drink it, sit there and stare. But he lifted his hand, curling across the cup slowly, before he lifted it to his lips. He tested it, smelled it, stuck his tongue into it and waited. Then he took a sip, putting the cup down and Natasha breathed a sigh of relief.

"…Tasha that's…" Steve began.

"It's taken a few hours. But as long as he makes it and you pour it, he'll drink it."

She moved her hand to his hair, brushing across the dark strands – and Steve knew she was more than concerned.

"Anything else?"

"Yes." She replied dryly. "It might have been an inside job."

He watched Tony lift the cup to his lips again, taking a bigger drink this time. There was some food on a plate, a sandwich that looked like it had been held with the dimples in the crust but never eaten. Maybe she tried a step further and failed.

"Inside?" Steve repeated. Who would do this to Tony?

"Pepper," She responded shortly. "Tony said that Pepper slept with them to keep him alive."

Steve felt his whole world reel.

Pepper was in bits when Tony was taken. The second time, and she couldn't do anything. She had been right there at the tower, or busy with running the company in his absence.

"No," Steve responded. "No way."

"I thought the same. But that's our only lead."

Steve looked at Tony, couching down and grasping his hand. The inventor turned his head, looking at Steve and through him at the same time.

"Are you sure that was real? Tony?" He questioned, rubbing his thumb against his knuckles. "Are you sure it was Pepper?"

He didn't answer, just looked at him again causing Steve to get almost frustrated. There was no way Pepper would do this, Tony must be somewhere dark in his head.

"We're not accusing her yet." Natasha spoke clearly, as she always did. "We know Tony isn't in the right frame of mind, but it's our only opening until he talks more."

"I refuse to believe Pepper was in on this." Steve almost spat his words. Of course he was angry, either Tony was lying or Pepper was dirty. Both options he hated.

"He said he watched, Steve."

Those words was enough to cause Steve to sit down heavily next to Tony, who was taking another sip of his coffee, oblivious to what was being said.

"This is Pepper, Tony. Pepper." He whispered. Natasha rolled her eyes, placing the coffee set down before, grabbing her coat.

Tony didn't say anything else.

"What happens now?" Steve asked as he walked her to the door. "To Pepper?"

"We observe her. Get some information. Then we question her." She took a good long look at Steve. He always saw the best in people and never the worst. "We're not accusing her of anything yet. If she has nothing to hide, there's nothing to worry about."

"Right," Steve nodded. She was right after all. She gave a slight smile, stepping out into the icy streets before turning on her heel.

"Look after him, Steve."