Day 12

Tony remembered doing something amazing once. He played chess against Reed Richards on five concurrent boards, and checkmated five kings at once. Eh, no biggie. Reed called him the world's best multitasker. He'd take that. He was a lot more, too, but world's best multitasker had a nice ring to it. OK. He wore the badge proudly on his chest. His brain's brain – he must've operated like that, how else would this make sense? – was so adept at keeping track of time, that even now, even when he was hurting, it still wouldn't let him forget he'd been in captivity for twelve days. Twelve fucking days. And it was almost time for breakfast.

There was a scratching on the door. Must be Steve. Of course it would be Steve. Who else was there?

His eyes were watery, his nose stuck, his throat burned, and his back inflamed. His enhanced immune system would've fought off any infections, but something told him a broken heart was just as lethal. And a broken heart indeed that he was nursing, as he lay twisted on his stomach, his head pillowed by his own arms.

"Good morning, Tony."

He… was so lost in futility. To the point that Steve didn't bother closing the door properly, that even with it left ajar, Tony had not the will to flee. One question… just one thing he needed to know, to hear direct from Steve.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

To teach him a lesson? To exact revenge?

"I told you. I'm convinced that one day, you'll come around and join us. Help us make the world a better place." Steve lowered a bowl of porridge – they were back to porridge? – in his lap, as he took a seat at the edge of Tony's bed. "You know me. I'm a patient man. Until that day happens, I'll keep you safe, here. Just like old times."

This was nothing like old times.

"Just you and me."

And he couldn't bear it. Tony curled into himself, his arms wrapping around his body. The tears flowed freely, even when he believed he had none to weep. Steve, with his glorious upper body strength, flipped Tony over and reeled him into a hug. An embrace – just like old time – him half-slouching in Steve's lap, his back against Steve's steadfast chest.

Steve's heartbeat had by far been the loudest, the steadiest he ever heard. He found solace in them. Just listening. He would march himself to the beat of Steve's beating heart, to death, with his head held high and a fucking smile on his face.

"I'm here, Tony. Don't cry."

He shook harder, and Steve drew his arms around Tony, careful not to jar the mess that was his back. The more Steve cooed into his ear, spoke comforting vocab that meant nothing to him, the achier he felt. Right here, in his chest, his lungs so compressed and –

Please.

"Don't be like this, Tony. Everything will be alright. Your girl, Riri Williams? She's doing fabulous as Iron Heart – is that what she calls herself these days? She takes good care of her mother, comes home as often as she can for dinner. She lies when she can't make it, but… which fifteen-year-old doesn't, hmm?"

"Steve," Tony chokes, "Please. Don't –"

"Your mother is taking great care of the company. Your CEO, Miss Watson is doing a hell of a job on the management side. Your company's stock price has never been this high in your absence! Tony, you found yourself a squad of fantastic women, truly remarkable –"

"Steve, I beg you." He jerked away and scooted closer to Steve's face. He pawed the front of Steve's shirt and rested his forehead against those sharp collarbones. "Leave them out of this. Riri, she's just a kid! My mother, I just – please. Oh God." His snot was soaking through Steve's shirt. "Don't. Please. You have me here. I swear I won't – I'll stay. In exchange. Don't I mean anything to you?"

"… What have you become, Tony? I remember you prideful. So confident of your views on the world – what's in store for the present and future. Your objectivity has always been your strength. But now?" Tony bit back a gasp when Steve closed a hand over the small of his back. "I'm… petty, Tony. I just realised that. I want you to watch how HYDRA cleanses this planet. I want to gloat. You are where I've always wanted you to be. Here. With me."

The bluish glow in Steve's chest was visible through his tear-soaked HYDRA shirt. Tony fisted the wet spot, and Steve held him. So blue… its light burnt into his retinas, and he wished. It was what the Cosmic Cube do, right? Grant wishes. So listen up, stupid Cube. Bring Steve Rogers back, the Captain Spangled Banner that he – that everyone – had come to love from the fucking get-go. Bring that man back. If that wasn't possible, then God help him, when Tony Stark fell asleep tonight, don't wake him up for tomorrow.