Dr. Tanya did not seem surprised or upset to see Tony despite the disarray in her office.
"I'm sorry, I should come back later," he said, eyeing the empty surface of her desk and the box of computer parts on a cart beside it.
"Not at all. Come in, have a seat." She waited for him to comply before she continued, "I was just making ginger tea. Would you like some?"
He hesitated, then shrugged. "Sure."
She poured two steaming cups and set them on coasters on the table in front of him, then closed the door on her way to the cart of stuff. After some rattling, she pulled out her tablet and settled into a chair. "How has your morning been?"
"It's been about how the last two days have been," he said with a sigh. "How was the evacuation drill?"
"I was grateful I'd read the safety manual so I knew what was happening," she said, grinning. "It was quite . . . enlightening. I met some very nice people. But it was sobering to think about what sort of situation would require that response."
"One so drastic that we've never had to do this drill before," he said. "You don't need to take your entire computer, though. Just any drives and devices that might have data on them."
"So I was told when I reached the assembly point. Still, it was good exercise, and it will be a learning experience to put it back together again." She laughed and reached for a mug, sniffing appreciatively.
"I can-"
"No, Tony, I'm happy to figure it out myself. But if I get hopelessly stuck, I know who to call." Her eyes were twinkling, but her expression quickly sobered. "Does the drill have anything to do with the thing that has been consuming your every hour for the past few days?"
He had to take a deep breath. "Yes," he admitted, looking down at his interlaced fingers. "It's . . . a long story. You're sure you don't want me to come back later?" Not that he had any idea when he'd have time later, but he felt guilty for disrupting her entire morning, directly and indirectly, especially after she'd been dragged out of bed.
"I'm sure," she confirmed gently. "Please, take as much time as you need."
So he told her about Ultron and Sokovia in more detail than he had before, everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours, how he'd been trying to address what had happened, and his plan to tell the others what was going on as soon as they returned. "This morning I promised Rogers full disclosure," he said wearily. "I'm not sure what reaction to expect. I'm just doing what needs to be done, but they don't always take things the way I mean them." He thought of Rogers and the conversation in Berlin and frowned.
"Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know," he said heavily.
"Would explaining your reasons more thoroughly help?" she persisted.
He snorted. "No amount of explaining myself would make one bit of difference where some of them are concerned, like good old Stevie boy."
"Hm," she said noncommittally. "I'm not sure I agree with you. Why don't we wait and see what comes of the conversation you had this morning?"
"Sorry, doc, but what I've done hasn't been enough to change his opinion of me, so words aren't going to help. And I just . . . I can't deal with drama on top of everything else. I'm . . ." He stopped himself with a shake of his head and finally picked up his mug. If she noticed that he used both hands to do so, she didn't comment on it. "I don't know how much longer I can do this," he said softly.
"When you say 'this', what do you mean?"
"This . . . thing," he said, gesturing widely to encompass the room and the building beyond. "The togetherness, team-player thing. I'm tired of people who should know me questioning my motives no matter what I do. I'm on the firing line for these people and I don't even know if it's worth fighting for them anymore because they sure as hell don't seem to be fighting for me."
Dr. Tanya was silent for a moment and seemed to be studying him. "Let's say you decide not to fight for them anymore. What would you do?"
"Assuming I'm not in jail from this nonsense with Ross?" he asked bitterly.
"Let's assume that, yes."
"I'd go back to California for a while, probably rebuild my house in Malibu. Do more with the company, that sort of thing."
"Would you stop being an Avenger?"
He sighed. "It depends on what happens. If there's some sort of world-ending threat, I'd be there in a heartbeat. But the more typical stuff, the destroying HYDRA type stuff, that . . . I don't know about that. There are reasons I stepped back after Ultron, and all of those reasons are even more true now."
"How will you decide if fighting for them is still worthwhile?"
He stared down at the mug in his hands, watching the liquid tremble. "I don't know," he said. "I guess some of it depends on how they react to what I tell them."
"That makes sense," she said encouragingly. "What will it look like if they react negatively?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, mindful not to spill the mug he still hadn't sipped from. "Um, they would agree that I deserve to be investigated."
"And what would a positive reaction be?"
"Offering to help, maybe. But at least one person will do that no matter what."
"All right, then, how many people would have to react negatively for you to consider giving up on the team?"
There was a long silence. "It's not so much about numbers as about who's doing it," he concluded eventually. "If I've lost Rhodey or Vision, then I might as well give it all up right now. Or maybe Natasha. She's more unpredictable, though."
"So as long as you have at least two people on your side, you are willing to remain on the team. Am I understanding you correctly?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. I won't consider myself a lost cause as long as there are at least two on my side. But I still might go and be away from here for a while."
"It can be good to take a break," she said diplomatically. "Did your short getaway a few weeks ago seem to help?"
It felt so long ago that he had a hard time remembering. "I think so, but being away longer might have been better."
"I see," she said.
He wasn't sure if the doubt in her voice was just his imagination.
She continued, "If my presence when you tell your team everything would help, I am happy to accompany you."
He took a long drink of the lukewarm tea. "I would appreciate that," he said finally, glancing at her briefly.
"I'll be there. When are they due back?"
He checked his watch and chuckled ruefully. "Fifteen minutes."
"You might want to finish your tea, then," she said with a smile.
"Bottom's up," he joked before taking a sip.
"While we still have a few minutes, I have a question just for my own curiosity. If you're willing."
He was definitely interested in changing the subject. "I'm game."
"Do you enjoy doing press conferences, or merely tolerate them? I can't imagine staring down that many cameras and reporters."
He'd never been asked that question before and did not have a ready response. He drained his cup and set it back down on the table, pleased to note his hand did not shake as he did so. "I enjoy the challenge of answering questions while only saying what I want to say," he said slowly. "It's a game of wits, and I'm usually the smartest one in the room."
"Only usually?" she said lightly.
"I've had some pretty disastrous encounters with the press. I'm sure you can find out about them without searching too hard."
"How do you think today's will go?"
He grimaced. "I'm not so much worried about that as what will come after. Announcing the investigation like this is primarily to call the government's bluff. Once I make it public they're going to have to respond somehow. Ross is a wily guy, so I have to be prepared for whatever they might do next, but . . . I'm almost out of ideas. I think I've already mentioned those have been in short supply lately."
"You have," Doc T agreed. "But your team is sure to have more."
"Maybe," he said. He wasn't going to hold his breath.
"Boss, the quinjet has landed," Friday informed them.
"Shall we?" Doc T asked as she rose from her seat.
"Let's get this over with," he said reluctantly.
They went up to the common area to wait for the others and found Laura and the older kids preparing lunch while Rogers played with Nathaniel nearby. Tony hadn't realized he was going to have to deliver his news over a meal. Except he didn't want to bring it up with the kids there . . . or did that even matter? They wouldn't understand, but that didn't make it a topic unfit for young ears.
"I didn't know you'd be joining us for lunch," Laura said to Dr. Tanya. "The rest of them should be right up."
"It wasn't planned, but if you don't mind . . . ?"
"Not at all! It's no trouble to pull out another plate and chair. Cooper, make sure we have enough of everything out for another person, please."
Tony stood awkwardly near the couch, then perched on its arm to double-check the brief outline he'd made for the upcoming conversation.
He didn't make it far before Lila appeared at his elbow. "Uncle Tony, is it bothering you if I ask you to sit next to me? Mama said we shouldn't bother you, but Cooper thinks he gets to sit next to you because I saw you last night and I don't think that's right."
She studied him solemnly while he parsed the torrent of words. "What if I sit between you?" he said.
"Okay. You look sad. Do you need a hug?"
"I'm just tired, kiddo."
She continued staring at him, apparently unconvinced.
". . . sure, I'll take a hug. Back up, little bit, so I can get down," he said finally. He knelt on the floor and she wrapped her arms tightly around him before he could set the tablet and stylus aside. He gingerly put his arms around her, patting her back awkwardly, and took a deep breath.
"Lila, come tell me what you want to eat," Laura called.
He released her and she stepped back, holding out her hand to him. "Come on, Uncle Tony. It's time for lunch."
He let himself be pulled over to the table and pointed to a chair. Lila bounced over to where Laura-and the sandwich fixings-were waiting, babbling about Uncle Tony's solution to the argument about seating. Tony set down his stuff and went around the other end of the kitchen island to where the coffee was. He wasn't sure if the headache prickling at his awareness was a continuation from the other day or just because he hadn't had caffeine yet, so he'd try coffee and see where that left him.
The single cup brewer was gurgling its finish when more voices and Lila's cry of "Daddy!" heralded the others' arrival. Tony picked up his steaming mug and disinterestedly surveyed the spread of food, then assembled a tuna sandwich and picked out a few carrot sticks before heading to his assigned seat.
Lila and Cooper were already there and eating, but he felt a little awkward being the first adult with food. The others were slowly working their way through, though, so the table soon started filling up. He was a little concerned when he realized Rhodey wasn't there yet, but as soon as he thought it, the door opened and Rhodey appeared, with Wilson pushing his chair.
When Rhodey pulled up to the table, he said, "We ran into Mel on our way in. Why are we having a press conference?"
"'We' aren't, I am," Tony corrected, setting his half-eaten sandwich onto his plate. He wasn't sure he wanted to finish it anyway. "It's about that thing I've been dealing with. You want me to explain now or after you've all eaten?"
The murmur of incidental conversation died as the others waited expectantly for Rhodey's response. Rhodey's expression seemed to ask if Tony was okay with it; he shrugged in response. Nathaniel squealed into the silence, happily banging on his tray with the bowl he'd just emptied onto the floor.
"I'd like to hear it now," Steve said from further down the table.
Finally Rhodey nodded. "Whenever you're ready," he said, glancing at Tony's plate.
He took a drink of coffee, pushed his plate away, and set his tablet in front of him instead. "So. When I left our little confab on Monday morning, it was to answer a call from my lawyer," he started. Going down his outline, he told them everything, never once looking up at anyone. Plowing through it without seeing their reactions was the only way he was going to make it.
He hesitated just before the end, and cast a glance down the table at Dr. Tanya, who nodded encouragingly. "Last but not least, yesterday I informed the U.N. that I will not participate in Avenger missions until this is resolved and I have withdrawn as the leader of this merry band of misfits. In my stead, Rhodey and Rogers are in charge."
No one spoke right away and he finally dared to scan the faces around the table. They seemed shocked, mostly, and unhappy, though whether at him or the situation he didn't dare to guess. Laura took the opportunity to quietly usher the kids from the room.
"That's a lot to take in, man," Sam said eventually.
"Tell me about it."
"How can we help?" Natasha asked.
So she was on his side. "Stay out of it," he said immediately. "I can't let the rest of you get dragged into this. Ross has it in for me, not you."
"Nope, not an option," Rhodey countered. "How many times do we have to tell you that you don't have to go it alone?"
"Ross will not be satisfied even if he manages to take you down," Natasha said. "This is his first play, but it won't be his last."
"It will be if I can hold him off," Tony argued. "He has the advantage right now, but this whole investigation is on shaky ground. Even if there are charges against me, they won't hold up in court."
"Proving yourself legally will take time, and you said yourself it won't take long for us to run out of money. We literally can't afford the delay. We need to try to force his hand, see what his play is, because he definitely has one," Natasha pondered aloud.
"That's one of my intentions for the press conference," Tony said. "Having the investigation public should prompt enough questions that he'll have to do something to respond." Like show up at the compound to gloat, he thought, remembering his nightmare.
"So how do we make sure the press conference will force Ross to do something?" Sam asked.
Tony was so caught off-guard by the 'we' in that question, he nearly missed Wanda speaking up.
"Appear as vulnerable as possible," she commented. "He comes here to prey on our weakness. It makes him feel superior."
"Like when he came after Stark got out of the hospital," Sam said, nodding.
"And when he thinks he has the upper hand, he is more likely to make a mistake, let slip something he shouldn't," Clint agreed.
"You already look pretty ragged, so that will help," Natasha said, subjecting Tony to a calculating look.
"I was planning to shower and shave before I go down there," he said defensively. It was the only thing he could think to say in the face of their surprising support.
"Shower, yes. Shave, no. That will help make it seem like you're at your wit's end."
"I'm almost there anyway," he muttered.
"Were you going to use a prepared statement or just wing it like you always do?" Rhodey asked.
"Mel and I have put something together, along with a statement for the website."
"We'll need to see both of those," Natasha said crisply. "Now let's talk security. It's unlikely but not impossible that someone will try something with you so exposed."
"Mel is arranging that with the people at the tower. I have no idea what she's planned," he admitted. "I've had my hands full with everything else."
"We'll give her a call," Rhodey said. "All right, how about this: Rogers, Wanda, Wilson, Vision, and I will coordinate security. Clint, Natasha, you'll work with Tony on the messaging. Everyone on the quinjet, cleaned up and ready to leave for the city at three. Any objections?"
"What am I, a mission?" Tony groused when no one else spoke.
"Would it make you feel better if we called you a project?" Rhodey teased.
"Let's do this," Sam said, and there was echoed agreement around the table. A clatter of dishes and the scraping of chairs followed.
Tony stared blankly at his mug, trying to understand how it could be that every single one of them seemed willing to help him fight this.
He startled when a voice spoke near his ear. "Are you going to finish your sandwich or should I take your plate?" Natasha asked quietly.
"I-just take it."
She patted his shoulder. "Stay put if you like. Clint and I will be right back."
He nodded slightly, then reached for his mug. It was empty, though he didn't remember finishing it. He sighed as he pushed back his chair and stood, then turned and nearly ran into Rogers.
"Stark, I need to apologize," Rogers said awkwardly.
"Really," he said flatly.
Rogers huffed impatiently. "Will you just listen for once?"
"Why? You don't return the favor."
"That's why I'm trying to apologize. I assumed things about what was going on that were totally wrong and I'm sorry."
Tony blinked once, twice, then muttered, "Fine. Whatever. Excuse me." He stepped around Rogers and headed for coffee.
Once he managed to fill the electric kettle in the midst of Barton and Natasha doing dishes, he faced the counter and shut out all of the noise and activity around him. He tried to focus on what needed to happen next, but his mind kept skipping back to the concerned faces around the table, their insistence on helping, Rogers apologizing . . . It was literally the least he could do, but he hadn't been willing to do even that before.
A gentle touch on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. "What do you think about how it went?" Dr. Tanya asked quietly.
"I don't know what to make of it," he admitted, turning to face her. "I didn't expect support from all of them."
"Even though they have all been helping since your heart incident?" she asked rhetorically, then patted his arm. "Would you like me to stay a while longer?"
"No, you don't need to do that. Besides, your computer is waiting for you," he said with a smirk.
She grinned. "I am off to be its savior, then. Let me know if you need to talk."
"I will." She left and he tended to his coffee. Even so, he was back at the table before Barton and Natasha. He took the opportunity to have Friday share the emails and the relevant files from Mel with everyone; there was no point in hiding anything now.
Barton threw himself into the chair at the head of the table and put his feet up on the corner. Natasha tsked at him and unceremoniously shoved his feet off as she sat across from Tony. "All right, let's take a look," she said, glancing at his tablet.
"Oh, no, that's- it isn't- this isn't connected to the network," he stammered. He must be tired, he hadn't given a moment's thought to how they'd work through his statement. Stupid. The others were at the conference table, already on the phone with Mel, and Rhodey was pulling up a diagram of the tower lobby on the display. "Friday?" he said hesitantly.
"The file can be displayed on the television, boss," she replied.
"I call the couch," Barton said immediately, already on his feet.
"You don't need the entire couch," Natasha chided. She waited to leave the table until Tony stood up and headed toward the TV, coffee in one hand and tablet in the other.
He settled into an armchair at one end of the couch, intentionally choosing to have his back to the others. He was having a hard enough time concentrating without the distraction of wondering what they were doing.
Even so, his attention wandered as Natasha and Clint worked their way through the press release, mostly without comment, then began picking at his prepared statement. He slowly sipped his coffee, willing his headache to recede into the background again. Now that he'd acknowledged its continued existence, it seemed to double in intensity.
"-Tony, tell her that I'm right," Clint said.
"Tony?"
It wasn't until the second time she said his name that he realized they were addressing him. "What?" he said, uncertain if he should be looking at them or the words on the screen.
Natasha's expression betrayed a hint of concern as she explained. "Clint and I are debating the wisdom of telling the world that the Avengers' funding stream has dried up. He doesn't think it's a good idea. I think if you plan on doing everything you have here, the team's bank accounts won't be the primary focus."
He shrugged. "Weren't you guys saying I need to seem vulnerable? A rich guy without money, it's hard to get much more vulnerable than that."
"But I thought you didn't want to bring the team into it," Clint objected.
"As a target, no. This would hopefully generate some goodwill, or at least sympathy."
"It might not be a bad thing to demonstrate that we have to balance our books just like everyone else," Natasha said.
"All right, all right, I give up," Clint said good-naturedly, throwing up his hands.
"What about the document release? Do either of you mind?" Tony asked, hoping they hadn't discussed it while he wasn't paying attention. That particular bit had horrified Mel, so he wanted a second opinion.
"How could I mind? I already willingly dumped everything S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about me onto the internet once. There isn't much left for me to hide," Natasha said wryly.
Clint gestured toward Natasha. "That's pretty much it."
"Good. That will happen as soon as I have time to make it happen," he said, carefully setting his coffee cup on the arm of the chair so he could make a note on his list.
"Is that something Sara can help with?" Natasha asked.
"What?" he said blankly.
"Sara, the new assistant. She assists with the drudgery that we don't want to do," Clint said. "What's the point in having a minion if you don't make use of her?"
"We haven't fully fleshed out her daily duties because some members of the team haven't met with her yet," Natasha added. "She's quite smart, I'm sure she can wrangle the files with Friday's guidance."
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered the suggestion. "Does she have security clearance?" he asked eventually. "And don't bother telling me that information was in her file. I didn't actually read it."
"I never suspected that you did." Natasha sounded amused. "Yes, she has top secret clearance."
"Sold." He took a swig of coffee. "Friday, give the assistant, whatever her name is, access to the files you've been collecting for me. And let her change the security level of documents, just in case something is miscategorized."
"Permission granted, boss."
"I'll review it all before it's made public," he said with a sigh, adding that to his list. He also needed to dedicate a server to host the public files separate from the full batch that would go to the investigative team. It went on the list, too.
"You should go shower," Natasha said.
"What, do I smell?" he joked half-heartedly.
"Of coffee," she said lightly. "It's already after two. Sara and I will help you pick out your clothes afterward."
"I don't need to be dressed like a child."
"A second opinion from well-heeled ladies is never a bad thing," Clint pointed out, standing up and stretching before offering Tony a hand up.
He accepted it gingerly, but Clint did nothing more than lend him some momentum to pry himself out of the chair. "Thanks."
"Do you think they've given all of us something to do, or are we going to have to hover in the background pretending we aren't there?" Clint asked Natasha as the three of them headed for the door. The others had already disbanded, and there was no sign of what the final plan would be.
"At least half of us are going to have to stay out of sight for Tony to be able to say what he's planned to say. You know there are people who still object to the conditions that allow you to be here," Natasha pointed out. "That's not the issue here, and we don't really want it to become the issue." She glanced at Tony. "But you should be ready with answers if those sorts of questions are asked."
"I know," he said reluctantly. "I can just wing it."
"We can drill you a bit while you get ready. You need to have something to work with when you're winging it, or your wings won't be flight worthy. Now excuse me, boys, I need to wash up."
"Ten bucks says she beats both of us out of the shower and looks flawless," Clint said after Natasha vanished from sight.
"No bet," Tony said immediately. "I never bet against a woman who could kill me at least a half a dozen ways with just her pinky finger."
"That's wisdom if I ever heard it," Clint said sagely. "You should tell her that sometime. I think she'd be pleased. Oh, and here's your door, which concludes my chaperone duty. What happens now is your business."
"You're my chaperone now? I think this parenting thing has gone to your head, Barton," he teased.
"If only that were true. Laura would be thrilled," Clint said dryly.
"Don't be like that. You're doing fine. Better than I would, anyway," he said dismissively.
"Give yourself some credit. You're pretty good with Lila," Clint replied, suddenly serious. "I don't think I've thanked you yet for making sure they were all safe."
He shifted his weight, awkwardly looking anywhere but at Barton. "Um, well, it was my fault that Ross found out about them, so you don't need to thank me."
"I don't just mean Ross. HYDRA knew about them."
"Are you serious?" he blurted. "Jesus. How did we not know that?"
"They came up in this last batch of HYDRA files. Friday alerted me as soon as we landed. Hill is having someone check on the farm, but-" he shrugged. "Who knows. So, thank you. They were in more danger than either of us knew."
He took a deep breath and shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he met Barton's gaze. "You're welcome. Oh, and sorry about that broken nose thing."
Clint laughed and started down the hall. "No worries, you're forgiven. I should've known you'd even the playing field somehow."
"It's what I do," he agreed.