It was late, nearly midnight. The kids had long since gone to bed but the remaining Avengers waited restlessly for any further news from the hospital. The last communication had been a brief text from Nat to Clint two hours before, saying that Tony was being moved to ICU.

Clint was lounging on a couch, aimlessly channel surfing while Vision played chess with T'Challa and Wanda, Laura, and Scott played a card game. There was nothing on TV at that hour, even with the super mega cable package that Stark paid for, and Clint had just about decided to stop trying when he flipped past a breaking news bulletin on CNN. He went back and sat bolt upright, immediately pausing the screen. "Uh, guys? Take a look at this."

The frozen image showed a female news anchor beside a photo of Stark in a hospital bed, covered in wires and wearing an oxygen mask. He looked small and frail in the sea of medical equipment.

"How did they obtain this image?" Vision asked.

"However they got it, somebody's going to be in big trouble," Laura predicted.

Clint rewound the footage to the beginning of the segment-somehow Stark managed to get his systems to buffer the last hour of everything on TV, because he was a techno-genius like that-then turned up the volume.

Breaking news from New York this hour. A photo that appears to depict billionaire Tony Stark in a hospital bed was posted to Instagram and has gone viral. The original photo, seen here with the original caption, 'there's a VIP in the ICU, omg', was removed within fifteen minutes of posting but copies are circulating wildly, along with speculation about the nature of Stark's malady. Our experts agree that the equipment pictured indicates his heart is being monitored closely. We have not yet been able to identify the hospital, but we will provide updates as we learn new information.

"Who the hell would post something like that?" Scott asked.

"Someone with an interest in showing Mr. Stark's weakness," T'Challa said.

"Or someone who doesn't know any better," Laura added. "The fact that it was taken down makes me think the person didn't realize what they were doing."

"Unless they know that by removing it that makes it more interesting," Clint said. "Sometimes I really hate people."

No one else said anything for a moment. Then Clint said, "I'm calling Nat. They need to know the media is going to come sniffing."

"Just a moment," Vision said. "Friday?"

"The footage has been forwarded to all four phones and to Pepper Potts," the AI reported. "Is there anyone else you wish to notify?"

"No, that will do for now. Thank you."

.

Rhodey was startled out of a light doze when the phones in his pockets began buzzing like angry bees. Tony was still holding his right hand, so he fished Tony's phone out of his left pocket. "Friday?"

"Upload from the compound, colonel. The media is aware of Mr. Stark's hospitalization."

He watched the short video and swore. "Can you determine who took the photo?"

"The account belongs to a female college student. By extension, it seems likely she is a volunteer or intern at this hospital."

Rhodey gently took his hand from Tony's and rolled out of the room. From the looks on the others' faces, he didn't have to ask whether they'd gotten the message. "Who wants to tell the hospital administration they have a serious problem their hands?"

Conveniently, Natalie appeared at that moment to check on Tony. When Natasha took her aside and briefly told her what was going on, she was aghast. "That's terrible! We'll contact the administrator on duty right way."

Ten minutes later, a harried-looking woman hurried down the hall toward them, accompanied by another woman who was likely the charge nurse. "I must apologize for the egregious breach of privacy inflicted on Mr. Stark by a member of our staff. He or she will be fired as soon as we determine their identity. We will be making a statement to that effect to the media shortly."

"Wait. I have an idea," Natasha said.

"And I have information about who took the photo," Rhodey added.

The next news update followed within a half hour.

A follow up to our earlier story about billionaire Tony Stark's hospitalization: The CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts, has confirmed that Mr. Stark was admitted to the hospital following a cardiac event of an unspecified nature. She also provided a statement from the unnamed hospital: "We apologize to Mr. Stark and his associates for the egregious invasion of privacy involved in the release of that photograph. The individual who took the photo has been released from service and further disciplinary action is being considered. We will be reviewing our training and procedures to ensure such a breach of trust never happens again." Ms. Potts also stated that Mr. Stark has been moved to a more secure location.

Natasha appeared in Tony's room just as Rhodey finished watching the video. "Throwing them off the scent by not moving him when we say we've moved him? Smooth," he said.

She smirked. "That should prevent any civilians who may have seen us from bringing the vultures down on him. To complete the illusion, I'm going to escort Steve, Sam, and a hospital bed to the compound. Is there anything I can bring you?"

"A change of clothes, a toothbrush, and ibuprofen. I did way too much today."

She squeezed his shoulder, then stepped back. "Natalie will be bringing in a cot for you. I expect you to be on it by the time I get back."

"Since when do I listen to you?"

"Since you don't want to see what I'll do to you if you don't," she said with a wink.

Rhodey was stretched out on the cot, asleep, when Natasha returned.

.

When Rhodey woke again in the wee hours of the morning, the room was empty. He sat up in a panic and called for Natasha, but there was no response. A small bag had been stashed under the cot next to his phone; when he pulled out his phone to call Nat, he noticed he had a text message from her.

Tony's cardiologist arrived, so they took him for more tests. I'm with him.

Rhodey took a deep, relieved breath and texted back: Thank you. With that taken care of, he went through the small bag to find the ibuprofen, then realized he had no water.

Natalie appeared as if on cue. "Is there anything I can get you while you wait for them?" she asked kindly.

"Some water, if it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all." She quickly reappeared with a styrofoam cup complete with lid and straw and handed it to him. "As I already told Ms. Ro-sorry, Natasha-you folks are my only assignment for the night, so if you need anything at all, just holler."

Rhodey was about to let her leave, then realized he could use something else. "Restroom?"

She had to help him up off the cot, there not being anything for him to grab to help himself up, and she walked with him down the hall, perhaps afraid he would stumble. He was more unsteady than he'd like, but with everything that had happened and only a few hours' sleep, it wasn't a surprise.

Natalie was curious about his leg braces and he told her what he could as they made their way back to Tony's room. "And Mr. Stark designed them," she said.

"He would tell you he merely modified what was already available but yes, he designed them." They had arrived back at the room, but Rhodey paused outside the door to spend a little time standing before he tried to get more sleep.

If she was going to say anything else, it was interrupted by the return of Tony and his entourage. Tony's color was a little better and he no longer had the oxygen mask. He seemed like he might be awake, but Rhodey waited with Natasha in the hallway while the nurses hooked him back up to the equipment.

Natasha filled him in on what he'd missed and added, "Dr. Mann said she'll wait to draw any conclusions until after another set of tests in a few hours. In the meantime, she's going to get some sleep. You should do the same."

"Yeah, I'll get there." He gave her a skeptical look. "So you think a hoodie and blue jeans will keep people from recognizing you?"

"It worked in D.C.," she said with a smirk, tucking her hair more securely under her hood. "You're a hopeless cause, though."

He snorted. "Hard to hide the leg braces," he agreed.

"Go on," Natasha said as the nurses left the room. "I'll be right here."

Tony was awake, and watched Rhodey as he approached the bed. "Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," Rhodey said. "You still feeling lousy?"

Tony's shoulders shifted slightly in a shrug. "Maybe a little better than lousy. But they tell me I'm not dying, so that's something."

"You seriously freaked me out, man."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault. Just don't do it again."

Tony gave him a wan smile. "I can't make any guarantees without knowing what the hell happened in the first place."

"Yeah, I know. You tired?"

"Always," Tony sighed.

"Then sleep. I'll be here, and Natasha is just outside."

Tony nodded, but seemed to resist closing his eyes. Rhodey gripped his hand and Tony visibly relaxed, his eyes slipping closed. Rhodey watched him fall asleep, both physically and in the readings on the monitors, then waited a while longer before sinking back down on the cot to do the same.

The next set of tests didn't come until it was properly morning. Natalie had finished her shift by the time Rhodey woke again, but he was fairly certain the plastic chair that materialized at the head of the cot was her doing-with that bit of assistance, he could get up without anyone's help.

Tony's morning nurse was a grandmotherly type named Donna. When Tony (and Natasha) went off for tests again, she gave Rhodey a hospital menu and suggested he order something for himself and Natasha. "Mr. Stark should be allowed to eat a little for breakfast when he gets back, so you both might as well join him," she said practically. "And that might make him more likely to eat something."

"He's not going to like the idea of hospital food," Rhodey agreed. After submitting the order (with input from Natasha via text), he went to the bathroom to clean up and change. He returned to the room before the others did, so he sat in Nat's chair and idly checked the news to see what else people were saying about Tony.

The major news outlets universally scolded the still anonymous photographer for the violation of HIPAA and medical ethics, and some even speculated about legal consequences. Tony's only role in those stories was as the innocent victim. Other stories focused on Tony's "frail health" as compared to the capable, carefree public persona he so carefully cultivated. Some even connected his poor health to his efforts on the Accords and the disagreement with Captain America, both of which were hailed as good things for the world at large. From there they would usually discuss the Accords themselves and America's shameful reluctance to ratify them, putting the American public at risk from enhanced individuals, blah, blah.

Eventually he pulled out Tony's phone. "Friday? Have any reporters figured out where that photograph was taken?"

"No, colonel. A few bloggers have correctly identified the hospital from the photo metadata, but that information has not been widely disseminated. It would appear the larger news networks do not consider it relevant to the stories they wish to tell."

"Good. Keep an eye on that."

When Tony returned, he was allowed to request breakfast, as Donna predicted. Rhodey thought he knew what Tony would want, so he'd included it in his order earlier; he turned out to be exactly right, so Tony's smoothie and oatmeal appeared about ten minutes later with the rest of the food. Donna brought a rolling table in from another room so Rhodey and Natasha could eat more easily and in Tony's company.

She came in again while they were eating and injected a syringe into Tony's IV line. "Morning medication," she said cheerfully. "Can I get you anything else?" The answer was no.

They were all but finished with breakfast when Tony's cardiologist, Dr. Mann, came in. "Tony, my dear, I have some answers for you. Hello Colonel, Ms. Romanoff."

"It was good of you to come, doctor," Rhodey said, shaking her hand.

"Nonsense. We have history, Tony and I, and he always gives me the loveliest little puzzles."

"Would you like us to leave?" Natasha asked.

"It's up to you, dear," Dr. Mann said to Tony.

"Stay. Then I won't have to explain it later."

"Should we call the others so you don't have to explain to them either?" Natasha asked next.

"Where's my phone?" Tony demanded abruptly.

Rhodey passed it to Natasha, who gave it to Tony.

"Friday, record this conversation," he said.

"Of course, boss," the AI said compliantly.

Dr. Mann waited a few seconds, then began. "Tony, dear, the stress you have been under has damaged your heart to the point that it is not beating properly. The extent of the damage tells me that you've had some symptoms you've ignored"-she gave him a look of censure-"until your heart couldn't cope and you suffered that episode. It's called stress cardiomyopathy and, fortunately, the damage is reversible. With time and medication you will heal, but you must find a way to reduce the stress in your life or it might happen again."

"So he didn't actually have a heart attack?" Rhodey asked.

"No, though many of the symptoms and initial test results are the same."

"I didn't know that could happen."

"It's an understudied phenomenon."

"You mentioned medication. I don't like medication," Tony said.

"Yes, I am well aware of that. We will try you on one medication, especially at first while you're recovering, and then we'll re-evaluate. It is not clear whether long-term medication is beneficial, and in cases like yours where I know you'll forget to take it, we'll probably be better off discontinuing it when you're back on your feet."

"How long are we talking, here?"

"You'll need to take it easy for a month, minimum, to let your heart heal. No using your suit, no battling with your teammates, no traveling abroad, no unusual stresses of any kind. And that includes arguing with bureaucrats. Don't think I don't pay attention to what you're up to."

Tony scowled, then got a wicked gleam in his eye. "Does this mean I have a doctor's note to not deal with Ross for a while?"

"Yes, I can scold the Secretary of State for bothering you."

"Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Not while sober, no," she said with a laugh. "And you won't love me anymore once I tell you that you'll need to have some of these same tests done during the next month so we can make sure you're healing."

Tony paused. "You're right, I don't love you anymore."

Natasha spoke up. "What sort of symptoms would he have had?"

"Chest pain, numbness in the left arm, that sort of thing."

Natasha glared at Tony. "This had been going on for over six months and you didn't tell anyone? Your arm was numb back in Berlin."

"You expected something different from what I've done before? I don't have time to deal with doctors."

"Until you damage yourself so badly that you're forced to," Dr. Mann said sweetly. "Yes, we know. And we know you may kill yourself one day that way, but I would prefer if you didn't do it on my watch."

"How long until I can leave?"

"We're adjusting your medication, then we need to monitor you to make sure you tolerate the change. If you do, you can leave twenty-four hours after we're sure you're stable. If you don't, we'll make more adjustments until you're stable and you can leave twenty-four hours after that."

"So the earliest I can leave is tomorrow."

"The day after," Dr. Mann corrected. "I'd like to have you on the altered medication for a full day before declaring that you're stable."

Tony frowned. "How about you go tell them about the change in meds? And then come back, I have questions about what my AI should be watching for if this happens again."

Dr. Mann laughed. "Don't worry, dear, I told them before I came in. What do you want to know?"

The conversation quickly went into technical territory that Rhodey didn't understand, though the diagrams Dr. Mann showed of Tony's heart compared to an average heart were interesting. Tony took notes on his phone and demanded access to all of the data the hospital had on him. Dr. Mann promised to provide everything she could manage to collect, then declared she was leaving and he could ask more questions later. "I will stay in town at least until you're discharged from the hospital," she promised. "For now you need to rest."

Tony grumbled half-heartedly as he continued to play with the display from his phone, but Rhodey could tell his energy was flagging. He followed Dr. Mann into the hall. "What should we expect for the rest of the day?"

"I've ordered an echocardiogram every four hours for the next twelve to help monitor his reaction to the medication change. Other than that, all he has to do is stay put."

"Would having more visitors be allowed?"

"Yes, but it's probably not wise. Rest is the best remedy, and having a bunch of people around is not conducive to him resting."

"What if he wants to get out of bed?"

"With the leads on him, that would be difficult. He might be able to stand beside the bed, but nothing beyond that. I don't want him disconnected from the monitors unless absolutely necessary so we have all the information we possibly can."

"All right. Thank you, Doctor."

"Always a pleasure, Colonel," she said with a smile and a salute.

During his absence, Natasha had moved to Tony's bedside and, from the sound of it, was briefly filling him in on the fact that his illness was already news. "Welcome to my life," Tony said, sounding weary. "Friday, are the PR people on it?"

"Yes, boss."

"Send the Dr. Mann conversation to Pepper and tell her I'm sorry. She'll know which details to pass on to the PR people." Tony was still manipulating the images his phone generated during the conversation about his heart, but his movements were sluggish and imprecise.

"I think it's time for you to rest. Doctor's orders," Rhodey said, plucking the phone from Tony's lap.

"I was using that, sourpatch," Tony protested lamely.

"You're exhausted. There will be plenty of time to finish later."

"Spoilsport."

"Yes, I know. Natasha will keep you company; she needs to rest, too."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm all right for another day at least, but if you insist."

"I do insist."

"In that case, good night," she said.

When both Tony and Natasha were asleep, Rhodey took on guard duty. The hallway was deserted except for Donna coming every fifteen minutes to check on Tony, so Rhodey spent his time researching what was going on with Tony.

Natasha joined him in the hallway about two hours later. Tony slept until it was time for his next test, waking only when his bed started moving. As always, Natasha went with him.

They ordered lunch afterward, then the afternoon passed like the morning, with Tony dozing more often than not while Rhodey and Natasha watched or napped. The passing time was punctuated by Donna doing her checks, the shift change-their new nurse was named Debbie, and she was a talker-and Tony periodically being whisked away for testing.

Tony was more alert in the evening after dinner and another test, no doubt thanks to sleeping all day, though he was uncharacteristically quiet despite not having anything to do with his hands (Rhodey still had his phone). Rhodey hadn't yet asked what was bothering him when Dr. Mann returned to tell them she was declaring Tony stable and he should be able to leave the next evening.

Tony did not seem as pleased by the news as Rhodey would have expected. As soon as the doctor left, Rhodey sat on the edge of the bed and said, "All right, spill."

Tony didn't look at him, preferring to fidget with the blanket. Rhodey waited patiently. "Why do I bother?" Tony said finally. "I do all this shit to protect people, and for what? Even when things go right, somebody always gets hurt, and some of the people I'm trying to protect don't want to be protected by the likes of me. But still I try. This caring about people thing sucks, especially when those people don't care about you in return."

"You've wanted to try to protect people as long as I've known you. That's just how you are. But yeah, some people won't like whatever you do to help. That's their problem, not yours." Rhodey paused to let his words sink in before adding, "And you know who could help you sort all that out? A therapist. You need to talk to someone, Tony, before the stress actually kills you."

Tony seemed to ignore him. "I'm thinking of throwing Rogers to the wolves. Maybe he'll understand better if he talks to the U.N. for once."

Rhodey went with it, accustomed to subject changes mid-conversation. "Won't that reinforce his opinion that being subject to the U.N. isn't a good idea?"

"I have-had-a meeting scheduled with the chair of the subcommittee in two weeks. I think talking with her would do him some good. I'll send you, too, so you can record it for posterity. And also because of that house arrest thing. It's a bother that one of us has to go everywhere with them, but the alternative is the pokey, so . . ."

"How could that meeting possibly help?"

"Steve will very politely lay out all of his objections to what the subcommittee is asking for and she'll very thoroughly tell him all of the reasons his solutions won't work. It will be fun."

"Forgive me for not being convinced," Rhodey said dryly.

"Give me my phone. I need to let her know about the change in attendees."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Rhodey protested.

Tony held out his hand and unwaveringly met his gaze. Rhodey caved. He usually did.

"Friday, show all messages from the subcommittee chair." After briefly skimming the list of messages, he said, "Compose new message: My dear chairwoman, I've been benched by my cardiologist for a few weeks. Would it be acceptable for Colonel Rhodes and Captain Rogers to meet with you in my stead? They will be briefed on all current points of debate. As always, I appreciate your thoughtful consideration."

When he'd finished dictating, the message appeared in holographic form for review. Tony tweaked a few things, then waved it away. "Message sent, boss," Friday said.

Then he spent a few minutes glancing over his inbox, flicking messages left and right, before he stopped and looked satisfied. "Well, well, what have we here?" He opened the message attachment. It was a document on official U.N. letterhead, though Rhodey couldn't read it from his perch. "Friday, forward this to Lang and Pym."

Rhodey's curiosity got the better of him. "What is it?"

"Months of negotiation finally bearing fruit," Tony answered vaguely. At Rhodey's confused look, he elaborated. "We're allowed to monitor the activities of the "rogue Avengers" in the hopes of rehabilitation, yes? Since Lang works more closely with Hank Pym than with us, I've been working with Pym to get him on the approved list. The request has been granted, and in record time by U.N. standards."

"I thought Pym didn't like you."

"He didn't like my father," Tony corrected. "I am not my father."

"What else do you have up your sleeve?"

"Lots," Tony said with a shrug. "I have to, because many things don't pan out. Especially when you're dealing with bureaucrats. Which reminds me . . . Friday, add Rhodey to the access list for the Accords documents." Tony fussed with his phone for a moment, then had it project a list of files. "You will need to read these before the meeting with the subcommittee chair. There's a lot of material here, so you'll have to skim the various drafts of the Accords, but this background is necessary to explain what you'll be meeting about."

Rhodey eyed the lengthy list dubiously. The date stamps went back to the day Tony had brought Ross to the Avengers compound and there were files for nearly every day since then.

"There are briefs from my army of lawyers about every nitpicky detail you could possibly want, my suggested edits, Steve's suggested edits, version tracking of what has been approved or declined by the subcommittee . . . everything involved in this morass of attempted governance."

Rhodey was stuck on one thing he'd said. "You've been working with Steve on this?"

"Yes?" Tony said. "Who else would I ask about what could be improved? I mean, it would've been easier had they consulted us when writing the thing originally, but apparently they didn't know how to find us. Or something."

"But he nearly killed you."

"Oh, really? I hadn't realized that," Tony said sarcastically. "I tried to kill him, too, but I've moved on. If we're going to make this thing work, we need input from all sides."

Rhodey remembered Tony's instinctive reaction to Steve in the E.R. and knew Tony was lying to someone, probably himself, in claiming to have moved on. But again, that was an issue for a therapist to tackle. "How likely is it that the U.N. will agree to enough of the modifications to the Accords that Steve and company will be willing to sign it?"

Tony sighed, suddenly looking at least ten years older. "That is the billion-dollar question. I have to say, the odds aren't on our side."

"But still you try."

"But still I try," Tony agreed. "The alternatives are even worse."