Disintegration of Anthony Stark (part 2)

So, the last day of July, it's Monday, Tony goes to R&D and does his work for the day quickly, without even looking at the projects that he could start early. Instead he goes home, takes a bottle of his best bourbon – doesn't matter if he will regret it in the morning – goes down to the library room that he rarely uses yet it's equipped with everything he needs – a computer, holo screens and JARVIS. Well, those three are in every single room of the apartment, including bathrooms, but – it's early afternoon and the sun is shining straight into the room and it's just nice. The place full of books and big potted plants, creating a calm, fuzzy atmosphere that fits Tony's mood perfectly.

'JARVIS, I need you to access a file we've saved a few days after I woke you up – code tango tango lisa tango zero zero five oh one. Got it?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Open. Show me the data on the screen,' Tony orders, sitting on the fluffy carpet, taking a generous swig of bourbon before setting the bottle on the floor; one of the good things about being off meds: no one will screen your drinking habits. Not that Tony particularly wants to have a habit, but honestly, he hasn't been drunk for over a year, high time to remedy that.

The screen is embedded into one of the walls, so JARVIS simply uses the bottom part of it that Tony can see without a problem. The data is displayed within a few seconds; JARVIS takes him time to filter it and make it nice and easy to read.

'You haven't accessed the file in a long time,' JARVIS comments when Tony takes another swallow of the alcohol and makes a face at the A.I.

'Didn't need to go undercover for a long time,' Tony replies even though the reason is obvious to both him and JARVIS. 'Everything updated?'

'Physical documents, no, but all records online, yes.'

'Read it to me, J,' Tony asks and leans back to lay on the floor, the bourbon bottle still in his hand but he's careful not to spill it; the stuff is too good even for Tony Stark to just let it splash on the floor. 'Just the basic basics, updated to today.'

'Nate Rives,' JARVIS starts, his voice as flat as always, making Tony smirk. His creation is perfect. '37. British resident, born on September 1st 1974. Home-schooled Self-taught. Has been working in IT and programming since his twentieth birthday, always via internet; troubled childhood, left his home at that age and never came back, changing his name to the present one. Currently resident of a small London flat near Regent's Park, working from home.'

'Redact the file to state he's been mute since he was a kid, I don't want questions, and just in case – you know. That should work. Voice is one of the recognizable things I can't quite change, unless permanently… Done?'

'Done, sir. Will you require physical documents?'

'Make note for British passport, I guess, and driving license – for later. Nothing now… Bank accounts?'

'Like you set up, sir.'

'Perfect, baby,' Tony murmurs, sitting up a bit, taking a few big gulps of the alcohol and hugging the bottle to his chest. He's not drunk – not yet, at least, not eve tipsy enough. 'I want you to find a place – make it an group home, 'kay? Donate 5,000. Make sure it's used wisely, will ya?'

'Of course, sir. All in the name –'

'Well, obviously,' Tony cuts in, rolling his eyes. 'You can tell them we can meet sometime, but it's impossible to say when exactly. I – I don't know when – if – I will do that out there, in real, there would certainly be issues… You know it all, J.'

'I do, sir,' the A.I. admits.

'Now, lights down to 30% and play me some movie good for the occasion,' Tony orders, and that is exactly what happens.

In the morning, Tony does recall what he's been doing most of the evening and remembers perfectly what he did before he managed to get smashed: he is half expecting to turn on the TV to the news saying that Tony Stark is making charitable donations under a fake name, or something like that.

It doesn't happen though; no one connects Nate and Tony, there is no reason for anyone to do so; none at all. No fucked up situation to deal with first thing in the morning, then, Tony could get used to that. There is this amazing freedom in doing whatever he wants without being judged, without questions, without analyzing his every movement, every word, every gesture.

Nate is just a random citizen and – nothing more.

Tony watches the donation being processed by the bank just after 0800 and when it's all done, he calls Christine Everhart and tells her that he will agree to an individual interview as long as she won't be asking about things Tony doesn't want to talk about. That might be difficult, despite her declaration and promise. Tony knows the temptation is huge.

'Let's pick a date in about two weeks, Miss Everhart, so that we both can find some time and prepare – and I want to read your proposed list of topics by that time, would that be okay with you? We will go somewhere from there.'

'Yes, Mister Stark,' she assures him, voice excited, Tony can tell. She's always been… the enthusiastic one.

'How does Sunday 13th work for you?'

'Good. You choose what fits you, Mister Stark. I work on all days of the week, depending on the need, it can be a weekday or a weekend day… 13th is perfect.'

'Please come to by house – you know where it is. Whenever you feel like, as for the hour, just let me know. I'll be home all day.'

'That will be perfect,' Christine repeats, says goodbye and hangs up. Tony sighs into the now-silent phone.

'Got something for the hangover, babe?'

'Dummy has indeed – under my supervision – made the smoothie for you. It should lessen the nausea and the problems with hydration and nourishment…'

'I know this all by heart, J, it's my own invention,' Tony sighs. 'Now, make Dummy move quicker 'cause it's the 1st… I need to talk to my team in that meeting and it would be nice to relieve the symptoms a bit and give me some energy to act.'

'Of course, sir,' JARVIS agrees politely for once. 'Shall I get the suit ready?'

'Mark IV,' Tony decides and takes the glass from Dummy, patting his head.

By the time the suit is ready – a few moments – Tony has drank all of his shake and is putting on some more comfortable clothes to wear under the armor.

It's just seven minutes flight to the HQ and as soon as Tony steps into the conference room – two minutes before time – everyone seems to be there already.

Must try ten minutes earlier, he muses. I wonder if they are here so early because they basically live here, or if it's just a routine.

'We have two missions for you this month,' Coulson tells him as soon as the doors are closed.'One solo, one with the team, everyone but Hulk is in. Doctor Banner,' the agent continues, nodding to Banner who offers him a small shy smile, 'he will continue his usual research, we don't have need to his particular skill set a this time.'

'Of course,' Iron Man replies, but the understanding in Tony's real voice is lost on the computerized one. 'Now, tell me what those missions are about,' he adds, readying himself for an onslaught of information – and he is not disappointed.

It's all so – exciting. Knowing your reasons and acting upon them, doing the right things… It almost feels, to Tony, like paying back, though it's a bit different between Tony Stark and Iron Man. Tony kind of wishes he could just leave SI behind and do superheroing 24/7 all year round, but he knows he has responsibilities towards thousands of people. Nothing could be simple.

The first mission is the solo one, simple and quick when you can fly as easily as Iron Man can: the point is to retrieve an item that has been stolen from a S.H.I.E.L.D.'s research facility by some AIM spin-off organization of mutants living in the Antarctic. Normally, it would take a rather long time to do what Iron Man can do within half a day, especially that he doesn't need to be careful: when he is safe with the thing – it has something to do with opening portals to other dimensions, Tony is dying to know, but again, asking for details would be out of character – S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to destroy the base from the air – destroy it completely. Those guys have apparently created enough mess for a lifetime and Fury is not the most patient of all men.

'You are the most mobile of the people I can chose from,' Coulson tells Tony during the debrief; Tony knows that it's one of Iron Man's greatest abilities – and he just plain loves flying. There are very few things he likes as much as being in the air, feeling free, bring away from everything; knowing that it all can happen thanks to his own hands' work only makes it sweeter.

So, on Tuesday Tony Stark leaves work early, taking an afternoon off, the one meeting he had scheduled moved to the next week, and Iron Man flies to the Arctic, steals back the small object and then watches from the air, at a safe distance, how the whole complex blows up. The place seemed big, but there were only six people, Tony knows; JARVIS scanned it during the flight. Tony has seen those men when he flew inside – he has read their files – it's good that they are dead.

Iron Man quickly flies to the base, deposits the item into the safety of director Fury's hands, and disappears.

Tony is too excited to sleep after the mission so he spends all night in the small workshop, analyzing projects waiting for his approval and reading reports – his usual office hours job – so that in the morning, after breakfast and generous serving of coffee, he can go straight to R&D and do the part – the only part – of his job that he really enjoys.

Christine comes on 13th, at 1100 hrs, wearing a blazer, shiny blouse underneath, skin-tight black jeans and awfully high heels, sporting a radiating smile that can't hide her practiced curiosity when she, not so subtly, looks around more than she looks at Tony when he leads her to the library; it seems like a good place for a meeting. Dummy is waiting there with drinks and snacks. She's met the bot before and wrote about him rather sweetly, not exactly common so Tony can appreciate that, even if the rest of the article was… annoying, that's the best word.

But then, it's been long time since Tony's last interview – not for a scientific magazine and about scientific subjects exclusively – that wasn't at least mildly annoying.

'There hasn't been a proper interview with you, Mister Stark, since you came back from Afghanistan,' she starts as they are seated by a small round table, steaming cups of coffee waiting; JARVIS remembers the journalist's favorite, of course.

'I thought we were on first name basis the last time we met, Christine,' Tony comments, raising an eyebrow. 'But yes. I didn't feel like there was much to talk about – much that you all needed to know. Some things should be kept personal.'

'That hasn't been your policy before, Tony.'

'Well, what can I say but people change – don't tell me people were naïve enough to think they knew everything about me… You just didn't know what you didn't know, so you accepted what you did know as the whole truth – and with Afghanistan happening, you suddenly knew you were missing a big chunk of my life story.'

'If I ask what exactly happened there, will you tell me the truth?'

'You've just asked,' Tony laughs drily, gaining Christine's smile and an expectant look. 'I don't particularly feel like sharing my memories, I am sure you can deduct why, but I will tell you a few things,' Tony declares, drinking some of the coffee and putting a mini caramel tart into his mouth.

Then he answers the few questions they have agreed on via email before the meeting; it wasn't really necessary, but Tony wanted some time to… figure out the right wording. Using the right words is nothing but a safety precaution when you deal with people like Christine – especially given that Tony doesn't feel like having sex with her afterwards, what is surely going to be a surprise.

'So, what can you tell me about Obadiah Stane?' she asks when Tony is done with the three censored and carefully described Afghanistan stories.

'I'm sure you are looking for something sensational – but I am not sure I can give you that,' Tony says, leaning back in the chair. 'There has been no difference as to how he has been before and after. The only reason why I even found out something was really wrong in SI was because I have been looking for some records regarding our arms' shippings that were stopped when I came back. It was my intention to go over all the contract personally even though our legal team took care of the formalities.'

'So, you knew something was wrong, or you just found out by accident?' Christine asks to clarify before taking a sip of the coffee.

'I found out. I think Stane was a bit less careful, with me out of the picture – I haven't been around SI until that confrontation with him, so it was almost nine month of a rather… free reign. For him. I just wanted to check one contract's details and there was an encrypted file in the folder – and it went on from there.'

'That must have felt terrible,' Christine comment and Tony nods honestly, but says nothing. 'And now, you are?...'

'Now, I am trying my best at re-establishing Stark International's leading market position because no matter what Stane did, there have been a lot of great things we've been working on over the years, with both private and military funding, before you ask. Most of the things we've been doing to aid countries battling with hunger – like out intelli-crops – military founding, sweetheart,' Tony says, offering her a radiant smile. Christine smiles back and nod to herself. It means exactly nothing to Tony, could be good, but probably is bad; everything seems to end up unfavorably, at least.

'Can you tell me more about what SI is doing now?' she asks and Tony breathes in relief; it's nice to be asked about something serious once, even if they are bound to approach the subject of Tony's new social life habits because Christine is from Vanity Fair and not Harvard Business Review.

It takes Tony almost half an hour to say everything he wanted to say – Christine even appears interested, what a success – and then Tony asks JARVIS to have some lunch sent to them. Of course the talk finally has to be about girls and Tony's social reclusion, how she calls it.

'It doesn't automatically mean that nothing is happening in my life, baby, only because you don't know that,' Tony tells hers, taking off his tie. There are some scenes he still needs to act in. 'Do you mind?'

She shakes her head for no and takes the mug with green tea into her hands, observing Tony like a predator.

'I've been particularly busy these days, I am sure you can understand. I try to keep SI adrift, what is a bit tough these days with the things the media say about us, well, and me, an apparent collaborator and a liar – you know, it's almost sweet how naïve it all is – but of course I could have expected that. Good publicity easily turns into bad publicity and people love the bad one much more, they thrive on scandals and problems and have no regard for reality. But you are a journalist, you know it very well,' Tony adds, offering her another smile but she doesn't look apologetic at all, not that Tony would expect that. 'I am doing both my CEO job and Obie's job at the moment, as well as acting as the head of R&D and working with them on several projects. Between court meetings and taking care of my… personal affairs. I don't have much time for anything, hence the meeting on Sunday.'

'Trying to gain the pity of the readers?'

'Trying to make. Things. Straight,' Tony drawls, stretching his legs in front of him. 'I am a scientist and I despise speculation. I stand by facts and facts only and as long as something is an object of research, I don't talk about it as if it were the one and only truth. And that's what you and colleagues have been doing, regarding the court case.'

'So, the whole fault is journalists' now?' she asks, cocking her head and frowning a bit; Tony can feel her anticipation for an answer that would fit her story, but he can't be bothered to analyze her right now.

'No,' Tony says firmly and she blinks, frowning even more. 'No. It's only my fault of thinking the world is a nice place and believing in people unconditionally. It was a kid's behavior and it was irresponsible as hell. Stupid as hell. Now I've gotta make up for that. If not to the public opinion, which I do care about but not enough to bother with trying get things straight with you all, it's impossible, then with my employees and their families whose lives often depend on my decisions. The worst thing that could happen – just please, Christine, baby, don't cut this line out – is Stark International falling, what the popular papers and etc. seem to want, seem to support at least, and it would end in the whole country being in a big trouble as we're one of the biggest companies around. Your personal opinions, dear readers, don't matter so much here and I realize I'm sounding like an asshole to a lot of you no. Given who you all consider me to be, you will probably think is a lie, but – it's not about me. I'm a genius, I could be billionaire without the company, but it's not what I want.'

There isn't much more talking after that. Christine has already asked all of her questions so after a few minutes of talking – Tony is fully aware she's expecting an invitation to stay for the night – she realizes it's all she can have, Tony's words, and leaves after a quick goodbye.

Tony pours himself a generous serving of scotch, drinks it in four gulps, puts on a coat – it's raining – and walks to SI tower; it's just a few minutes away on foot. In his personal workshop, he spends the rest of the day and most of the night working on overdue upgrades to the suit that he couldn't find time for these last few weeks.

The middle of the month marks first follow-up checkup with Samski; it doesn't take long and everything seems perfectly fine. The news makes Tony feel like he can finally relax a bit.

The new kind of relaxing technique is taking part in a S.H.I.E.L.D.; Tony loves the thrill, the sense of purpose, the freedom, the actions that have actual visible outcomes, contrary to most of his frustrating everyday CEO-ing.

The mission is three days in Africa in order to capture half a dozen terrorists from a local group that S.H.I.E.L.D. has been tracking for months now. Spending such a long time with other people is not something Tony has done under new circumstances, but it's exactly that he's been working on at nights: taking care of all the bodily needs while in the suit because Tony is not risking anyone even suspecting who is inside the Iron Man armor.

It all ends up with the terrorists captured, Hulk making an appearance, Hawkeye with a sprained ankle and lots of bruises because he's been acting like his usual self, and Coulson getting mad over the comm; Tony loves how his calm, emotionless and steady voice, interrupted by random static noises, can bear such strength and conviction; he can feel the hairs in his neck raise when the agent hisses his commands.

The rest of the team stays in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Congo base as Iron Man attends a debrief, submits his report and flies back to the U.S. There are meetings that can't wait for Tony Stark.

The first thing he does, though, when he is back in New York – mostly because it's 2200 hrs local time – is make food, sit in the office and look over a letter he – well, Nate Rives – has received from Riverside Group Home, thanking for his donation and listing how the funds have been used. Satisfied with the outcome, Tony folds the letter and puts it back into the envelope.

'J?'

'Yes, sir?'

'Make another 5,000 donation. Make it pending standing donation, I will confirm after the next report form them, if it's satisfying.'

'Request fulfilled, sir. Donation status: processing. The monthly donation pending review.'

'Perfect, baby,' Tony replies, sighing and massaging his temples, trying to soothe the headache building up in his temples. 'Let's have some fun with sleeping in a real bed,' he tells himself, goes up to the bedroom and falls asleep without as much as taking all his clothes off.

The interview comes out in September issue what Tony thought would be rather impossible but apparently when it comes to Tony Stark, anything can happen.

It's… not as bad an Tony could have expected, but it's typical Christine style – what means the usual educated, middle-class targeted media style that Tony isn't a big fan of, but he's not a fan of lots of things when it comes to PR. At least she didn't change his words or the context anywhere, so whatever the comments about the interview are refers to the real Tony.

Coulson doesn't have any job planned for the month – something could always happen of course – so he tells Iron Man that it would be good, probably, if he did two or three of the trips everything started with: S.H.I.E.L.D. has been monitoring activities in the Middle East and it seems like there are a few places there that still use SI arms.

'I will be very happy to,' Iron Man says, losing Tony's voice's firm conviction when filtered through the helmet.

Soon comes another letter from the Riverside, together with a statement of how the second donation was spent; Tony is happy with what they've been doing.

'Confirm the standing donation, J,' he tells the A.I. 'I wish I could give them more, come on, these people are so – genuine.'

'I would look suspicious, sir,' JARVIS says and Tony nods.

'I know, baby. We need to lay low, lay low for now, and I will think of something later maybe… Let's move on to test flight with the new repulsors for now,' Tony changes the subject, putting the last piece of a sandwich into his mouth and standing up to put on the armor.

'Everything ready, sir,' JARVIS replies. Tony nods and lets the suit wrap around his body.

It's an incredible feeling to be a superhero.

After the second trip to Iraq Iron Man comes to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ for a debrief but Coulson is in an emergency meeting with Fury and WSC, so he has to wait. Tony took a day off for the mission – he left on Sunday, came back today in morning – so he doesn't have anywhere to run to in the afternoon.

He is using his time waiting in the usual conference room for work: JARVIS shows his some specs on the HUD display and Tony comments and tells the A.I. what to mark red for further inspection.

After a few minutes someone steps into the room and it's not Coulson – it's Banner who seems to freeze in half-movement when he notices Iron Man standing by the window, appearing to be looking out onto the lovely view of New York in early afternoon sun.

'Come on, don't mind me,' Iron Man says; Tony wants to add I'm not gonna bite or something like that. He wants to talk with Banner about the man's work, the things he did before the Hulk and what he is doing now for S.H.I.E.L.D. – apparently as a part of the team working on dimensional travel besides his study on radiation. But he doesn't.

'Thank you,' the man says and closes the door behind himself.

'I know you came because I am here,' Iron Man states, turning around to face the man who shuffles his feet a bit and tries to look completely innocent. He's doing pretty well, with his cute curly hair and the small smile. 'Anything particular you wanted?'

'I'm not sure?' Banner more asks that states, running a hand through his hair and coming up to the table to sit by it. 'I mean, you know, you fascinate me, in a way…'

'Oh?'

'You certainly are a self-made hero, right? I mean, I've read your file which is almost completely empty prior to when you started to work with us in the Avengers, but it says you are, according to your own words, just a man under the suit.'

'Yes. I am just a man underneath, but I'm not the only one, right? Hawkeye is nothing more than a human, no radiation, no mutations, no strange serums, no nothing…'

'Sometimes I wonder,' Banner says with a sigh. 'I don't know, it's just that I can't stop wondering who you are in real life –'

'Do you know who Spider Man is?' Tony cuts in; he himself doesn't have an idea but then he's never really looked for an answer.

'I know he's a scientist,' Banner replies and Tony's eyebrows raise, but Iron Man remains unmoving. 'He told me that,' Banner continues, playing with a min Rubik's cube he produced seemingly from nowhere. 'Of course, I don't have any reason to believe him because it's only his words, but he doesn't have any reason to lie to me, either. He could lie to S.H.I.E.L.D. maybe, but he trusts me more than I feel comfortable with.'

'You have a charming personality,' Tony tells the man and it's the truth; Banner is self-conscious and shy at times, but painfully clever and witty much more often. He always looks innocent and self-contained, but Tony knows he loves verbal sparring with Spider Man and playing stupid video games with Barton; he is sure they don't know that he knows, though. They have all been a team for some time before he came aboard and most of them live in the same building, so there is something alike friendship there; Iron Man is somewhere in the background, at distance, and it's Tony's choice, too. He doesn't trust himself enough to act convincingly around people he would call friends.

That's the thing Doc keeps reminding him: he changes his attitude too much when it comes to people he cares about a lot. So better prevent it and stay cautious.

He can't do anything that would make people anyhow connect Iron Man and Tony Stark.

Banner laughs at the comment – well, it's more of a cackle what Tony decides is incredible.

'You might be the only one to say that.'

'I think both you and Hulk charming personalities, even if the other guy isn't fond of anything much, well, other than Hawkeye,' Iron Man offers and JARVIS makes the voice a bit softer than normally. Banner smirks.

'I don't really get how it works, but you're right,' he admits, running a hand through his hair again and looks at the door. 'Well. I'm not sure what exactly I am doing here, so –'

'I am no one particular,' Iron Man interjects, making Banner frown and look up sharply. 'Underneath the suit. There is no great mystery to it. I'm a neat engineer, you can guess given that this,' Tony raises the mechanical arms, 'is 100% my own work.'

There, an answer that is true, logical, and won't make everyone think about Tony Stark straight away, because Tony has never done anything similar. He's good at robots, he is most famous for robots and weapons, and Iron Man made just a suit that uses a power source that no one has seen anywhere before.

'This is an incredible thing,' Banner comments, eying the suit from head to toes. 'I mean, you can fly, how amazing is that? That's exactly what most of the sci-fi books are about, that's what people have been dreaming about for centuries, and you're the first one who successfully managed to create a way to fly freely. Chapeau bas, Iron Man.'

Tony smiles inside the suit, feeling a pleasant warm feeling in his stomach; it's been a long time since someone has told him something as nice as that. His tech has always been praised, sure, even if Howard and Stane wanted more, better, quicker; but it's rare to hear someone say a compliment with such passion and genuineness.

'Thank you,' Iron Man says and inclines his head. 'This means a lot to me,' he adds truthfully. 'I wish I could show other people how it feels to fly, but – you understand, not now, this tech is too vulnerable – maybe sometime in the future.'

'Don't feel obliged,' Banner tells him. 'You know, the other guy can almost fly when he jumps like he does. Pity I can hardly remember – well, that one thing. Most of what he does is…' he stops there, shaking his head. 'Anyway. I just wanted to say I'm glad you're on the team. It's been some time – almost four months now, right? – and we never get the chance to talk, really, just a bit when we were in Africa. I know you don't live here like we do, and you have other preoccupations, but if you feel like talking, you know where to find us – I am sure the others would like that, too.'

'I will keep that in mind,' Tony says, really intending to, and just then Coulson enters the room, coffee mug in one hand, a stack of files in another, balancing everything with perfect grace. He doesn't seem surprised at all by the fact that Banner is there.

'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting – WSC is being a bunch of morons, pardon my language, I spend too much time with Director – let's go over your report quickly. I've got another slip for you, too,' the agent says as he places his belonging on the table and sits down. Banner waves Iron Man a goodbye and disappears soundlessly, closing the door behind himself.

In the end Iron Man gets a magical mission green light for another trip, this time to North Africa, where SI weapons are creating a bit of a mess.

Tony goes there during the last weekend of the month; he is happy to do his job and, in a way at least, fix his mistakes; it always feels good to do the right thing, no matter what the papers say. But he is just tired with everything; there has been another court meeting, Pepper and Happy testified and Tony hated watching them attacked by Stane's attorney; sure, they were composed, professional and said nothing but truth, but it was still nothing nice to experience and Tony felt sorry for dragging them into the whole situation.

All that makes SI stock stuck in one place that is not exactly favorable; it's not terrible, but no matter what Tony tries to do, he can't make them raise and he needs them to raise to improve the situation of the company.

October 1st is the usual Avengers meeting and this time Spider Man is not there, so it's just Banner, Romanov and Barton. There isn't anything planned for the month, other than whatever the agents usually do, but it's not Avengers business so it's not the team's concern. When the meeting is over, Banner looks as if he wanted to stop Iron Man – and Tony would stay to talk, but he has a meeting at 1300 hrs that he cannot be late for because it's with a big investor whose involvement could help SI considerably.

So Iron Man disappears and Tony Stark goes to the meeting, in a smart black suit, hair and goatee perfectly trimmed, the usual smile on his face. He charms the man thoroughly and finds himself surprised – given the current running opinions about SI and Tony – that someone, despite a careful and questioning approach towards the whole project, can treat him, Stark, with respect and fascination. Although Tony knows it shouldn't be something special, he thinks he really doesn't deserve the treatment he's getting.

The one good thing is that after the hearing in which Pepper testified, the media have been nice to her. Well, being nice meaning saying that she's been forced to work with Tony, forced to put up with his crazy stunts over the years, that she was a bit depended on the whole situation, that he's been unprofessional and an asshole – Tony's words, and he knows they are right to some extent – and she's now regarded almost as a victim, what she publicly disagrees with, but Tony doesn't mind as long as she's in good graces.

The second Saturday of October, it's the 14th, Tony takes a day off for a meeting with Samski; it takes place in the same place as always, a branch of that L.A. clinic that Tony has trusted for years where Doc is working now.

He has blood drawn early in the morning, like always, by a familiar nurse whose name he can't remember, and comes back for the appointment in the afternoon, soon after the doctor arrives to the clinic from the airport.

As soon as he walks into the room, he knows something is wrong. He just knows.

'Your blood results are not okay, Tony – sit down,' the doctor states straight away, taking the papers and showing them to Tony who sits down and stays unmoving, staring at the numbers on the papers. 'Tony?' Samski calls him, raising his voice a bit. 'Tony? You okay?'

'Yeah,' Tony breathes, not moving an inch.

'I need to do tumor markers from blood. Now, okay? Tony?'

Stop fucking call my name as if I were going into shock or something, Tony snaps in his head, but keeps silent, only nodding and tearing his gaze away from the little slip of paper that means so fucking much.

'But I haven't felt bad, nothing at all, I've been looking out for symptoms –'

'I know,' Samski assures him. 'I know, this can be nothing, we just need a check. Come on. Let's get the blood drawn. We'll have the results in three hours.'

Tony obeys, walking after the man back to the nurse's room and getting more blood taken by the same smiling woman, from the other arm this time.

He doesn't know how he manages to endure the three hours without going crazy; it might have something to do with Doc coming over, since he works in the same building. Tony knows the man cancelled the rest of his appointments for the afternoon.

Doc brings a couple of games, of all things, and challenges Tony into beating the other in Connect Four; it almost always ends in a draw between them – even when using the biggest size, 10x7, so both are quite determined to prove their superiority.

Doc wins three times and Tony wins two, out of total thirty two games they play.

'You know it's not fair,' Tony pouts; his voice is quiet but his behavior slightly exaggerated, he is aware of that; he always does that when he was anxious.

'We'll have a rematch sometime,' Doc assures him and ignores Samski slipping out of the room to get the results; he doctor been sitting on the sofa and reading a book the whole time, snickering now and then at Tony and Doc's antics.

Samski's face is completely blank when he enters the room, he doesn't even have to say anything. For a moment Tony feels as if he was going to faint but he doesn't.

'We'll just do an ultrasound now,' Samski says and gestures at Tony and Doc to follow. 'And then we'll decide is we need another test later.'

'Sure,' Tony agrees. His throat feels painfully dry; he knows his voice is scratchy and rough.

He hates the cold feeling of the get on his stomach and the way the machine touches his body; he hates every-fucking-thing about this situation and he hates not knowing, not knowing yet and – he really, really hasn't been feeling bad, just tired but with all his work he'd have to be inhuman not to feel tired, and –

'There,' Samski says, showing something to Doc on the screen. 'I am sorry,' he tells Tony and Tony does his best not to start laughing hysterically, but he only manages that for a minute or two more, until the examination is done. Doc wraps his arm around Tony's back and lets him laugh. Cry. Something.

'We will need CT and ERCP to decide what to do – but the soonest we can do that on Monday. Monday morning. I will make sure I can be here, okay, Tony?' Samski asks, eying Tony with concern; at least he's managed to calm down a bit.

'Okay. Of course. Monday morning,' Tony repeats, trying to remember what is he's got scheduled for Monday morning but his brain doesn't want to cooperate.

A few minutes later Samski leaves, since there is nothing to be done at the moment and it's around 2000 hrs already. Tony and Doc stay in the room for some time before Tony shrugs the man's arm off his shoulders and stands up.

'I will go now,' he states, testing out his voice. It's a bit thicker than he'd like, but will do.

'Are you sure you will be okay?'

'Yeah,' Tony replies shortly, walking out of the room and back to the entrance hall; everything he has is on himself. Doc follows him.

'It doesn't look bad, Tony,' Doc tells Tony just before he leaves. 'Don't panic. I'm sure it will be just like the first time. We'll make it quick and easy, okay?'

'Hope so,' Tony says, gives Doc a wave and disappears.

In the car, Tony tells JARVIS everything as the A.I. hasn't been present in the clinic and – well, he feels like he needs to talk, say it out loud. The A.I. is his perfectly charming self.

Back in the apartment, Tony leaves a note via JARVIS for Happy who is out of town, and for Pepper who is having – a date, if Tony understood correctly – saying that he needs to get away for a few days and will be back on Wednesday.

He will tell Happy, just – in person. Later.

'JARVIS, get me the Mark V ready. Malibu ETA?'

'Two hours, twenty minutes with current meteorological situation, sir. Are you sure this is wise?'

'I need to get away from this place. Do you know that nothing good has ever happened to me in New York?' Tony asks, packing his documents into a pocket inside the suit and gives JARVIS a sign to wrap it around him.

'What about the Avengers?' JARVIS questions, running a quick check and giving Tony a green light to fly.

'Yeah, them… Well, I guess. Though most of the things we do for the good are out of the city, well, out of the country even.'

'That is true,' JARVIS agrees and just then Tony flies through a window the A.I. has just opened, reflection panels engaged and the armor mostly invisible to potential observers. It's probably a stupid idea, taking off from a place where Tony Stark lives, but Tony can't bring himself to care at the moment.

When he arrives in Malibu, it's very late evening, sky clear and full of starts – Tony hasn't realized he's missed them that much, he doesn't have a lot of time to think about it in New York – and it's considerably warmer.

Tony spends the night walking along the shore, his feet getting wet and cold; he's not really thinking about anything in particular, letting his thoughts fly, letting them pass through his head freely; he stares at the stars over the sea and reflected in its ever-moving surface, he listens to the wind swirling around and the ocean's murmur that he hasn't realized he's missed so much, so much.

He's never considered himself sentimental, but it's been lie.

Or maybe it's just a thing you learn when you grow up.

Tony spends most of Sunday sleeping, after having taken some sleeping pills that knock him out – otherwise it'd never happen – and the next evening and night he spends walking along the shoreline again, until his legs and back and his chest around the reactor all hurt, until his feet are all wrinkled from the water, until he's too exhausted to think.

It feels perfect, not thinking, not analyzing, not calculating; it feels blissful and incredible and Tony wishes he could just stay like this forever.

The ocean is soothing enough to stop him from panicking; it did its job back after Afghanistan, when he was having flashbacks. The immense tranquility seems to wrap itself around him yet again and it's almost good.

A/N: Thank you for the comments! I'm very happy to know what you think. I hope you liked this part, too. Let me know? :)

Part 3, last of Disintegration of Anthony Stark tomorrow, after that the fourth part of the series: Was not a star on out side.