~STOP READING!~

**Please note that the first three chapters of Blackdog have been revised and rewritten**

It is advised that they are re-read before continuing on with chapter four.

AN: And on to our sponsored messages!

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR LOVELY REVIEWS! :D

I am truly, truly grateful for everyone who has continued to like, follow, and review this story during my long and unnecessary absence. Blackdog is really my baby and I'm constantly striving to perfect it (to my unending frustration at times). In my lengthy period of nonexistence, I have gone back to revise and flesh out the true direction of this story. With this, I am sure you have noticed the changes I have made to the first three chapters after rereading them. If not then SHAME ON YOU! GO BACK AND REREAD! I do hope that my grammar has been streamlined and things make a bit more sense with the flow and pacing.

I hope to never be away from writing fanfiction so long again, but alas…shit happens. Outside interferences, more than a handful of computer issues with my beloved dinosaur, a large slice of writer's block and a sprinkling of just-not-giving-a-shit combined into an impressive hiatus that I hope to never repeat. But, I will inform you all here and now that updates will still be slow going as my project load outside writing has increased significantly AND I am finally starting on my original fiction project which I hope to start posting soon if things work out they way I want them too. I will gladly keep you all posted on that endeavor if you wish.

I would like to leave everyone with the comforting thought that I will NEVER abandon a story outright. If I feel that I cannot continue, I will make sure to give a story up for adoption and hand over the reins to a qualified author.

Now, I've decided to cut the sob story short and just get right to it. Here is long awaited Chapter Four of Blackdog.

**MERRY (belated) CHRISTMAS!**

SUMMARY: After a life of war and adventure, all she wanted to do was live a fairly quiet life running her little café and avoid inquiries on future children from Mrs. Weasley. She didn't expect Tony Stark to wander his way into her life and decide to never leave. FEM!Harry/Tony Stark

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Blackdog

Chapter Four

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The early rays of morning's light had found Tony on the floor of a small bathroom, curled up around a dark haired stranger. He was wedged in a slightly twisted position that was entirely too uncomfortable for his back, pressed up against the side of the bathtub. It wasn't the most compromising position Tony had ever woken up in, or even the strangest place he'd found himself in with his long history of one-night-stands and questionable nighttime activities. Hell…for Tony Stark, waking up in a bathroom with a stranger was almost tame. But, before Tony was even fully aware of himself his inner alarms were ringing angrily that something incredibly deep and intimate had happened, and that this was not just another tally on the massively impressive screw-and-scram checklist he had acquired over the years of being a colossal prick.

This was something far, far worse.

Tony remained perfectly still despite the uncomfortable position on the cold bathroom tiles, allowing the vague memories of the previous night to sluggishly return around the splitting headache and feeling of content emptiness that lingered with an odd tingling sensation that encompassed his entire body. Once he was sure he wasn't going to puke – which was odd because as far as he remembered he didn't have nearly as much scotch that was required to get his ass so totally lit that it'd leave him with symptoms of a hangover – he slowly sat up a bit to investigate just who it was that he'd have to bail on this time.

Tony glanced down at the dark haired female that was using his bare chest as a body pillow and it took him a few moments to realize where he knew her from. The second that he placed her face and recognized the mysterious British owner of the colorful rainbow-puke blanket he stole, the memories of the previous night seemed to crash down on him all at once.

Tony went rigid and screwed his eyes shut, praying to himself that it was all just another fucked up dream and that this woman had not witnessed him have a nightmare with a follow-up act of a complete emotional breakdown.

Tony would be the first to admit that he wasn't the most emotionally stable person and anyone that knew him would say the same. He'd suffered his entire life through the standard 'daddy issues' to being physically and mentally tortured by his enemies during his stay at the château-de-Afghanistan. He'd suffered a personal betrayal by the man he felt was more of a father to him than his legal sperm-donor, and he flew a goddamned nuke through an alien portal. He even managed to mostly survive the one woman that stood by his side through just about everything completely up and abandoning him on all levels except an extremely strained, professional working-relationship with no explanation other than "I can't do this anymore".

The world had a front row seat to him at his worst. He'd been dragged through the mud and kicked while he was down, but despite everything he had gone through he had never, never lost it so completely in front of anyone. He had a lifetime to build and hone the unshakable image of Tony Stark, the man that could bullshit his way out of anything and still come out smelling like daisies even after rolling through crap.

But this woman…curled up to him with her head on his chest and her fingers curled around his ARC reactor in an almost protective manner…

This tiny sprite of a thing had seen the last fragments of Tony Stark shatter away last night, leaving nothing but an empty shell of a man faking his way through life. Never in conscious existence had he been as completely exposed as he had last night and the thought made him want to run and hide like the coward he truly is.

"Stop panicking. I'm afraid to inform you that, regrettably, it is not yet the end of the world."

Tony tensed even further, his instincts flaring sharply to the 'run away like a bloody coward' end of the flight-or-fight-o'-meter.

He slowly opened his eyes and glanced down at the dark haired woman tucked against his side, locking gaze with the most brilliant and intense green eyes he had ever seen in his life just as she lifted her head off of his chest. In that instant, the half-formed strategic exit that was floating around through Tony's head was brutally murdered as his brain temporarily short circuited'

'God, if ever a season could be jealous of a woman's eyes, the very leaves of spring would be envious,' Tony absently thought to himself as he observed her stunning eyes up close. Never in his life had Tony seen a shade so pure and green – deep emerald and brilliant jade swirled together in a hypnotizing dance of color, flecked with small traces of gold. Her enchanting gaze had astounded him once he saw it up close, eyes shining with intelligence, a bit of mischief, and something else he couldn't quite decipher, like a mystery only she knew the answer to.

…A mystery he had the sudden inexplicable urge to solve.

"Good morning," she murmured softly in her gentle accent, a tiny hint of a smile on her lips.

"Uh…hi," Tony said lamely with a slight wince, words failing him for once in his impressive career of professional bullshitting.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, slowly lifting herself off of him so he could sit up against the bathtub.

"I…" was all he could get out, much to his embarrassment and frustration. It was like his brain melted out his ears leaving him incapable of coherent speech in front of this woman.

"Hey," she said, carefully pushing herself to sit back on her legs. "It's okay," she said comfortingly. "Whatever last night was; it happened, it's done, and it's time to move on. How about we focus on finding your shirt instead, Mr. Stark," she said with a joking tone and a still sleepy smile. "I think my couch might have eaten it. It's been known to do such things. Personally I think it's possessed. It's eaten at least twelve socks, an incalculable amount of change, and I'm pretty sure it ate a small dog at one point but I was never able to prove it," she muttered bemusedly at the end, mostly to herself.

He gave her an effort at a smile, thankful for her attempt of humor to downplay the seriousness of the previous night. "Call me Tony," he said, wincing at the roughness in his throat. "I think we're way past the 'Mr.' shit at this point anyway."

"I guess you can call me, Helen, then," she said, standing up. She lifted her arms over her head to stretch and Tony gladly distracted himself with the band of skin that appeared as her shirt rode up over her stomach. She dropped her arms with a huff and held out her hand to him. "Come on. Up you get," she said. Tony grasped her offered hand and was surprised at the strength she possessed as she hauled him to his feet with little effort despite her rather petite frame. "I'm sure you'll feel better with a shower. I should have a few things that will fit you."

"You really don't have to do that," Tony said, protesting at the thought of owing this woman any more for the kindness she'd already shown him. He really hated this feeling of being out of his depth and having no control over the situation.

"Trust me," she said, "I've done my fair share of emotional purging. You'll feel better after a shower."

Tony surprised himself as he relented without objection, allowing her to guide him out of the small bathroom and down the hallway towards the master suite. He simply had no desire or energy to protest further, sensing that this woman wasn't going to let it go without a fight. He was too emotionally exhausted and the feeling of her warm hand on his cool, bare back as she half-guided-half-pushed him down the hall was extremely distracting.

She left him standing in the middle of what appeared to be her bedroom. As she entered her closet to dig up some clothes, he took the moment to glance around and take his first real look at the place he'd wound up in.

The bedroom was surprisingly large for a downtown apartment in this area. As he thought about it, the apartment as a whole was surprisingly large. The silvery-grey hardwood floors throughout the residence carried into the bedroom and complemented the lavender-gray walls trimmed with cream-white crown molding. In the corner of the room were impressive floor to ceiling windows framed by airy cream curtains, currently closed, with a relatively unobstructed city skyline that overlooked the Hudson River in the distance. A cream colored armchair sat in the light of the window with a small antique wooden table next to it, a dog-eared book sitting on its surface.

The large bed sat against the largest expanse of interior wall covered in plush, cream bedcovers intricately embroidered with shades of purple from pale lavender to plum. There were an ungodly number of pillows, but he vaguely wondered if it felt as much like a cloud as it all looked.

The entire room was clearly divided into the "sleeping space" and a little sitting area situated around a lit gas fireplace with crushed purple glass instead of logs. The couch was the perfect size for the room and was cream-white as the rest of the upholstery. The whole space had an air of peace and comfort that was extruded through the modern yet classic design, encompassed by dark wood, purples, grays, and creams. Personal touches were made with eclectic accents like oriental ink scrolls on the walls and an Egyptian Cat statue sitting on a side table.

"Here," she said as she returned from the depths of her closet, startling Tony out of his observations as she handed him the stack of clothes she'd scrounged up. "These should fit you fine. You can use my bathroom right through there. There are towels under the sink," she said gesturing to the open bathroom door.

"Thanks," he said lowly, taking the offered clothes.

She gave him a small smile that he found himself returning. "Go feel more human. I'll have coffee ready when you're done," she said, giving him a small pat on the arm.

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Helen waited for a brief moment outside of her bedroom, smiling to herself as she heard the sounds of the shower start. She knew from personal experience that the emotionally drained billionaire would feel infinitely better after he had washed away the previous night. She closed the door behind her and made her way down the hall.

She stopped back in the hall bathroom to give herself an onceover in the mirror, grimacing at the sight of her wild curls and sleep-rumpled pajamas. She gripped the edge of the counter and leaned her weight on her arms, staring at herself for a moment. She could still feel the echoes lingering in the air in this place hinting to the momentous event that had taken place last night.

A soul had broken in this place.

Helen vaguely wondered if Tony was sensitive enough to feel the aftereffects of what he'd gone through. Or if he could feel the magic she'd enrobed him in to shore up the pieces of his broken soul.

"I did not think this through at all," she muttered to herself with a shake of her head, making her messy dark locks sway back and forth.

She really hadn't.

Helen wondered if Tony Stark would ever know just how close he came to dying last night, lying in her arms on a bathroom floor as his fading spirit bled from him like blood from an open wound. That man would never know the sheer panic she felt as she realized she'd witnessed the very moment his soul simply gave up. Nor would he know the rage as she saw the remnants of beauty, charred shards of a once fiery and tenacious spirit laid bare.

She felt him break.

She sang to him for hours last night, calling deep on the healing magic of her own soul's reflection as she desperately tried to stop the damage from spreading before it was too late. She'd never used phoenix song in human form before, but she sang to him nonetheless, cocooning him in healing song. She lulled him with songs of peace and chased away the nightmares with songs of stillness and protection.

She put him back together piece by piece, shoring the cracks and filling them with her own magic.

'Damn my saving people thing,' she thought to herself, rubbing her hands over her face. "Well…" she muttered with an exhausted sigh, dropping her hands to the counter again. "There's nothing that can be done about it now."

She left the bathroom, briefly pausing in the hallway to check that the sounds of the shower were still running before making her way to the kitchen to satisfy her inner 'Mrs. Weasley'. She hadn't noticed it the night before, but the man was entirely too skinny for her liking. There was one thing to be naturally thin, but he was borderline dangerously so despite his rather deceptive physique. If one hadn't already known the signs, they most likely would never have noticed. It had been far too easy for her to feel his spine and ribs with her hand on his back. She knew from her own personal battle with nightmares in the months after the War that he wasn't likely eating well if at all and that if he was, he wasn't keeping it down very long. She herself had gotten anorexic skinny from simply not eating before Bill and Fleur had found out and started forcing potions down her throat.

"Morning, Bayer," she offered the black Dane stretched lazily over his dog pillow by the coffee table as she exited the hallway headed for the kitchen. The dog immediately scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for his treat jar for his morning biscuit, as was tradition. Helen scooted him out of the way never once breaking his intense staring at the source of his morning treat. She pulled the glass jar on the counter closer to her and opened it. She laughed quietly to herself when she heard the 'thumpthumpthump' of his tail hitting the lower cabinets escalate in his excitement. She made him shake for it and handed the biscuit over so he could sequester it away in his dog pillow to nibble at his leisure.

She slid the glass jar back to its hallowed spot next to the "holy producer of life" – also known as the coffee maker – and grabbed the machine in question, pulling it closer to her. She opened the cabinet above and pulled out a new filter. On auto pilot she went through her morning routine loading the filter, filling the reservoir with fresh water, and loading the filter with a scoop of her secret blend of coffee grounds from the can in the freezer. She turned the machine on and pushed it back to its spot. Within seconds, the smell of freshly brewed coffee began to filter through the kitchen awakening still sleeping brain cells with its tantalizing aroma.

With that order of business out of the way, Helen turned on the oven and set to opening cabinets to gather the tools and ingredients needed to whip together the simple recipe for her favorite maple-oat muffins, figuring them a good choice for the rather strange morning she'd had. The recipe only called for a few ingredients and they took a mere ten minutes at most to get into the oven. The fact that they were downright sinful helped too…

She paused when she opened the spice cabinet intending on grabbing the cinnamon and other things needed. She stared at her shelf of potions she kept on hand under preservation charms and clever wards that disguised them as unopened spice jars to the unknowing eye. She weighed the pros and cons for a moment before grabbing a vial of a special high-potency nutrient potion that Hermione had developed in the early years after the war. It was flavorless, highly concentrated, and stable enough to where it could be added to a recipe and it wouldn't degrade much if at all in its potency during the cooking process.

Helen had plenty of experience with secretly drugging people with potions thanks to the stubborn men that made up more than half of her inner team and extended family. She'd unwittingly surrounded herself with pig-headed, prideful jerks that hated to admit to being weak or needing help. And, if she was honest, she was the same way considering how Bill had to force the damned things down her own throat at one point or another. She couldn't even begin to count the times she'd had to spike someone's food or coffee and it seemed that Tony Stark would be no different.

Within minutes, Helen had made her batter; magical addition included, divvied it up into paper cup lined pans, and tossed them in the oven. Soon the scents of maple and cinnamon added to the lingering scent of coffee making the kitchen and living room of her apartment smell divine.

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Tony figured that by now he should have been used to being in weird and awkward situations considering all the weird shit he'd seen and done over the years, but he had to admit that this one was definitely in the top ten weirdest moments of his life, right up there with the "Vegas Incident" that involved an Elvis lookalike, a belly dancer, and a goat.

Even by his standards he liked to pretend that one just never happened…

Tony had always made sure there was no "morning after" for his one night stands. He either bailed or whatever bed warmer he had at the time was escorted out while he was safely sequestered away in his toyshop. Not only did he not have sex with this woman, he was standing in her bathroom with a towel around his waist, subtly smelling like vanilla after using her shower even though he was sure he didn't use any scented soap, eyeing the pile of clothes she'd left him and wondering if he should just go for broke and put them on seeing as he'd already fallen this far.

He picked up the t-shirt and opened it, his mouth quirking into a tiny hint of a grin as he saw the front of it. The shirt itself was a deep blue and had an image of an old-school Windows OS style download bar on it with the phrase Sarcasm Loading…please wait above it in bold white lettering.

She definitely had a sense of humor that he could appreciate.

Deciding to just man-up and get on with it, Tony quickly changed into the clothes she had provided. He pulled the shirt over his head and found that it was a little too big for him. But it was comfortable and had the lingering scent of jasmine. The sweatpants were equally as comfortable, a soft gray fabric. Feeling more centered in comfortable clothes after his shower, his ever enduring sense of invasive curiosity began to overtake him. Tony exited the bathroom fully intent on snooping around his new surroundings. He took another glance around the large bedroom before his eyes landed on a closed door he knew was her closet.

Without an ounce of shame he strode over and opened it.

'That's a lot of shoes', he thought to himself, taking in the vast collection of shoes, boots, and heels that encompassed the entirety of the lower shelving, the majority he recognized being high dollar brands that could individually feed a third world country for probably a week. He vaguely wondered how on earth a woman that operated a Chelsea café could possibly afford so many shoes as he wandered further inside, taking in the diverse wardrobe. The woman had everything in her closet from a well organized stack of nerd-shirts with superhero symbols (he was inordinately pleased to see a number of Iron Man shirts in the stack) and popular logos to a collection of vintage dresses he knew that his Ex would salivate over.

He shamelessly opened drawers and cabinets that helped to make up the intricate storage unit in the closet, discovering a vast collection of nail polish, her jewelry (all of which he could tell was real silver and gold, but of simple, classic design), and a collection of sunglasses – of which he contented himself to try on before palming a pair of yellow tinted Oakley's he thought looked awesome. He hit an impasse, however, when he discovered her underwear drawer. Tony debated with himself for a minute, deciding on whether to be a total perv or not before he decided against it and left the drawer alone. He might have been a man-whore, but he wasn't one of those guys (unless he had permission of course, then all bets were off). He decided to leave those drawers alone, figuring the knowledge that she appeared to be a devoted fan of Victoria's Secret was enough.

Tony took his time as he exited the bedroom and made his way down the hall. He opened doors and peeked into rooms, sometimes going into them fully, taking in the eclectic way Helen had decorated her apartment. There were ethnic pieces and antiques as much as there were modern furnishings all over the house. Most of the artwork pieces on the walls were photographs and paintings all signed by someone named "L.J. Schmidt", but there were a number of vintage concert, movie and theater posters as well.

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The sounds of the shower had been stopped for ten minutes and Helen had taken the muffins out of the oven to cool by the time she heard Stark shuffle down the hallway, making no real attempt to keep the sounds of his snooping from being heard as he opened doors to investigate the apartment. He came around the corner glancing around curiously as he went. Helen was glad to see that he had taken her offer of clean clothes and was wearing the t-shirt and sweats that she'd given him.

"Feeling better?" she asked as she removed the warm muffins from the pans to arrange them on a plate.

"Yeah…" he said absently, gazing at her entertainment unit. It took up the entire wall with shelves displaying knickknacks and photos she'd collected from world travels, situated around the large flat-screen television mounted on her wall. "How big is this place exactly? Seems kinda big for this part of New York," he asked as he brazenly opened the lower cabinet doors to discover her vast Blu-Ray collection during his rifling.

"It's the entire floor," Helen said, watching him be curious in amusement.

"That's got to be expensive," he said, looking over at her in surprise.

"I own the building," she said with a shrug as she placed the last muffin on the towering plate of baked heaven. "I inherited it when my godfather died a few years back. When I came into some family money not long after I retired, I decided to renovate the building and open shop."

"Huh…" he said, filing that away. Instead he turned his attention to the plate filled with enticing baked goods. "What are those?" Tony asked, eyeing the small mountain of muffins with interest.

"Muffins," Helen said with an amused smirk. "Sit down. I've got coffee made. How do you like it?" she asked, grabbing the coffee pot

"Black," Tony quipped, grabbing a seat on one of the stools at the counter, "like my soul."

"Considering you fly around the world in a tin can saving people, I highly doubt you have a black soul," she said pointedly as she grabbed a mug out of her cabinet above the coffee machine, choosing the blue one with the Starfleet logo on it in silver, and poured the coffee into it. "It takes a special person to do what you do."

"You'd be surprised," he muttered as she handed the mug to him followed by that morning's newspaper.

It startled Tony at how easy it was to be domestic here, just basking in the natural warmth of this nymph of a woman who somehow managed to turn his world right-side-up again just by giving a damn. Awkwardness just melted away into a comfortable silence between the two as Tony looked over the morning paper and Helen puttered in the kitchen finding things to clean. He couldn't explain it – it was probably the effect of being emotionally purged – but he felt somewhat sane again, like he'd somehow gained a better grasp on reality if even for a short while until he had to dive head first back into the psychosis that was his life.

Tony was jolted out of his thoughts when something warm and damp nudged his leg. He gazed down into pitiful eyes of Helen's rather large canine companion. The black Dane rested his head on Tony's leg and gazed at him longingly.

"Don't fall for the puppy eyes. He just wants your muffin."

Tony looked up to see those startling green eyes staring at him in amusement as she wiped her hands on the kitchen towel. He stared at her blankly for a second before looking at the still-warm muffin he totally forgot was sitting in front of him (maple-oat if he remembered correctly), then down to the dog, noting that the animal's gaze had indeed turned itself to the muffin sitting innocently on the counter.

Tony frowned and moved the plate further out of the dog's reach. "Get your own, you mooch," he muttered under his breath. The canine huffed before standing and trotting off, knowing that he wasn't going to get anything out of the stranger.

"You are going to be alright again, you know?"

He looked up at her again and saw the concern written in her eyes. He gave a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his still damp hair. "Heh… When? …Because I haven't been 'alright' in a long freaking time."

"I don't know," she said with a sad smile. "It's different for everyone. It'll be hard. It'll hurt. But, soon enough you'll realize you are yourself again. Who knows, you might even discover who you really are for the first time."

"How do you know?" he muttered.

"Experience," she said simply with a small shrug, setting the rag down on the counter. "I'm going to go take a shower, so just make yourself at home," she said, gesturing around the apartment.

Tony heaved a sigh and stood up as she disappeared down the hall, taking his muffin and walking over to the window in the living room only to groan at the sight of blinding white on the streets below, wondering how he didn't notice it before. It only figured that the world decided that New York needed a white-out blizzard the morning after his…well…whatever the hell last night was.

Tony stood at the window, staring morosely at the blinding white that inhibited his escape. Sure, he could have called his suit to him or some other ostentatious manner of rescue, but quite frankly… if he wanted to be honest with himself he had no desire to leave or draw attention for once. More importantly he had no desire to be yelled at by Captain Kiss-Ass for disappearing before a debriefing again. He was perfectly fine with procrastinating on that one.

Tony contented himself to stare out the window to the increasingly white city and slowly destroy the plate of sinfully delicious maple-oat muffins that Helen had made while he was in his dazed stupor. In all truthfulness, the muffins were a reason all their own not to leave. He seriously couldn't stop eating them once he started. Perhaps that was the fact that he'd been living off of concentrated caffeine for God knows how long talking, but they really were that damned good.

Tony heard the sounds of the shower down the hall stop halfway through his fourth muffin and a few minutes later, the door to Helen's apartment suddenly burst open and a young woman barged into the place with her blonde and pink hair bouncing behind her in a high ponytail. Tony instantly recognized the logo on her black shirt as the one from the coffee shop downstairs and he realized that this was the other girl, the one that was there last night chattering away at him when he passed out.

"Oh, hey, you're like, alive and stuff!" she said as she spotted him standing by the window half eaten muffin in hand, closing the door behind her. "It's about freaking time. You totally just up and keeled over last night. We all thought you were like dead or something," she said with a little grin as she made her way to the kitchen to grab a coffee mug from the cabinet – a white and blue in an artistic representation of R2-D2.

"It was totally awesome. Helen, like, totally was a spaz 'cause she thought she killed you on accident for a second when you wouldn't wake up. You do know who Helen is right? You know… British… brunette… a figure to murder for…" she said with a vague motion to represent a woman's curves with the empty mug and her free hand. "We're in her apartment over the café if you didn't already know. She was all nice and decided to let you sleep up here rather than dump your ass off at a hospital like I suggested. I'm Alex by the way. Everyone calls me Kitty though. I just figured I'd come up and check that you didn't die for real. And you didn't which is totally cool," she said as she made her way to the coffee machine. "I figure the world would legit cry if you kicked the bucket and I really didn't want to go to jail. I wouldn't survive. I'm too pretty," she bemoaned.

Tony stared at her in disbelief, vaguely wondering how she managed to spew that all out without stopping. He didn't think that she breathed at all during that entire monologue.

"Kitty, is that you?" Tony heard Helen call out from down the hall. "I thought I heard you barge in here. What are you doing here?" Helen demanded as she appeared from the hallway, hair still damp from her shower, but otherwise dressed for the day.

"Good morning, Gorgeous!" The blonde girl chirped as she poured herself a mug of coffee.

"Why don't you ever get your own coffee? Go downstairs and make it yourself!" Helen grumbled as she strode over and took a seat at the counter.

"But you make it so much better!" the girl whined as she made her way to the muffins, making a grab at one. Helen snatched the plate and moved it out of her grasp with a little growl before she could steal one. "Hey!" the girl pouted. "I want one."

"Get your own food you mooch!" Helen said hotly. "You don't need to come in and steal mine all the time."

Alex merely stuck her tongue out childishly. "So when are you going to introduce me to Sleeping Beauty here?"

"Why? You've already told him your name and you already know his."

"It's the principle of the thing!" she protested before downing the entire mug of coffee in one go.

"Mr. Stark, Alex. Alex, Mr. Stark," Helen deadpanned.

"What kind of shitty introduction was that?" Alex said exasperated, shaking her head at her boss.

"A short one," Helen said quickly. "Now that you've been introduced…get the hell out of my apartment!" she said sternly, turning to face the blonde with a glare.

"Fine," Alex pouted, setting her mug down on the counter. "I see when I'm not wanted. I just wanted to see if you'd killed him anyway." She stood up with a sniff and promptly snatched a few muffins, stuffing one in her mouth and one in her pocket before grabbing two more and high tailing it out of there before Helen could smack her. "F'ee oo 'ater! Ifth waff nife t' 'eet oo," she said around the muffin in her mouth, disappearing from the apartment as quickly as she had come.

"Okay…" Tony said slowly, still alarmed by the whirlwind blonde. "What on earth was that?"

"That was Alexandra Haxley and you just got your first morning dose of 'Kitty-Crazy'," Helen grumbled. "Don't get me wrong, I love the girl to death… but I swear I lock the bloody door and she still gets in anyway."

"I've got a few of those myself," Tony commented, his mind drifting to certain few SHIELD agents he can't keep from popping up out of the woodwork.

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With nothing better to do and no desire to return to the Tower, Tony decided to follow Helen downstairs and observe her in her natural habitat. He was surprised to see that there were a rather large number of diehard coffee lovers waiting to be served despite the storm, but he figured that this was New York after all and native New Yorkers didn't let a silly little thing like a rare October blizzard stand in the way between them and their morning drug fix.

He followed her to the front counter and ducked under it after her.

"Good morning, Kim," Helen said to the wide-eyed teenager that was manning the front that day. "Glad to see you made it here alright. Kim, this is Tony. Tony, this is Kim, one of our part time workers," she introduced briefly as she pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen.

"You should probably check that," Tony said to the startled teen, pointing to the milk that was now frothing over in the girl's hands as he followed Helen into the kitchen. She glanced down startled to find that the milk she was steaming was in fact making a frothy mess all over the place. "Nice to meet you!" he called, following Helen through the swinging door.

"Good morning my lovelies," Helen called out as she entered the kitchen.

"More like afternoon. Ye've basically missed the entire mornin'!"

Tony stared in surprise at the tall brunette standing over by the industrial sized mixer that had spoken, totally not expecting the Irish accent to come out of her mouth. She was tall and thin with sharp blue eyes and chocolate brown hair pulled back into a bun, hands wrists-deep in some sort of dough that was in the mixer bowl.

"Yes, well, something came up," Helen said as she directed Tony to a worktable that had the best view of the only television in the kitchen. "Here," she said to him, pulling out a stool for him. "Sit and be good."

"Aye, Kitty told us about the stray ye picked up last night," the Irishwoman said with a sly grin, shooting an amused glance at Tony.

"Ha ha," she deadpanned. "Tony, this is Faye Meyers-Dunbar," she said to the billionaire, shooting him the evil-eye when she realized that his hand was slowly inching towards a tray of finished cookies that rested just within his reach. "She's my General Manager," she said, walking over and picking up the tray to move it out of his reach.

Tony pouted at the loss.

"Come here. I've changed my mind," she said as she returned to his side, grabbing his sleeve to pull him off of his stool. She dragged him by the shirt over to a station that was set up with a massive bowl of cookie dough and a tray rack. He gave her a bewildered look when she grabbed his hand and placed a cookie scoop in it. "Make yourself useful."

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Tony asked bewildered, waving the scoop.

Helen rolled her eyes and took the scoop and ran it through the dough, dropping one large glob of the mix on to the prepped tray, clicking the release to leave a rounded dollop. "Do it just like that, two across and three down. Make sure to leave plenty of room because they spread. I think a genius like you can figure it out from here without too much interference," she said, handing it back to him.

"You put too much faith in my ability in the kitchen," Tony muttered as he gave it a try, pleased to find that it wasn't all that difficult. "For all of my innate technical brilliance, I am one of the statistically few that have the ability to burn water."

"All you have to do is scoop," she said with a small laugh.

"What kind of cookies are these anyway?" Tony asked, holding up a scoop of the concoction to get a closer inspection.

"We call them Kitchen Sink cookies," Helen explained as she stirred a bowl of melted chocolate. "They've got oats, peanut butter, chocolate bits, M&Ms, walnuts, crushed pretzels, and coconut in them. 'Everything and the kitchen sink'."

"Huh…witty," he said appreciatively before sticking his finger in the raw dough and digging a small blob out of the cookie scoop, stuffing it in his mouth.

"Oi! Scoop, don't eat!" Faye said sharply, pointing her rolling pin at him while giving him the evil eye from across the kitchen.

BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD

"So," Faye said, sidling up to Helen with a smug look on her face once the brunette had moved off to her own work station. "Why do I get the feelin' that we're gonnae be seein' more of Mr. Stark around here, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Helen said with a huff as she folded dough around an entire block of cold butter and began judiciously slamming it all with her rolling pin to flatten it out. Whilst time consuming, the making of croissants was a stress releasing process.

"You're never gonnae get rid of him now that you've fed 'im," she pointed out. "I ain't stupid. I watch the news you know. Are you really gonnae want 'im around with all the crazy that follows 'im?" she asked lowly.

He wasn't intentionally eavesdropping, but being nosy was practically his default state. When Tony heard his name in conversation he immediately zoned in on the two females. He really shouldn't have been surprised when Faye made her comment about bringing trouble with him, so he was surprised when he unconsciously bristled.

"And you were easy to deal with when we first met?" Helen fired at the woman. "Everyone fucks up, Faye. Granted, some more than others, but don't you bloody dare judge. I put up with plenty of your bullshit over the years. Hell, I constantly put up with Kitty's brand of insane – and by all that is holy, if I find out who gave her the idea smuggle in a squirrel and let it loose in my apartment I will kill all of you!" she hissed, brandishing the rolling pin threateningly at the other woman before continuing with her judicious smacking. "They are rats with fuzzy tails!" she shuddered.

"I had nothing to do with that!" Faye said immediately. "That was all the Terrible Trio."

"Just show him the same consideration I showed the rest of you, alright? That's all I ask," she said softly.

"We all trust your judgment, Love," Faye said. "But if he bugs me I'm kicking him outta this kitchen, friend of yours or not," she said pointedly.

"Dually noted," Helen said with a short nod. The dark haired witch worked in silence for a while after that, focusing her energy on folding and smacking the cold dough and butter until she got it to the right state, working quickly so it didn't warm. Once she was done she dropped the dough on the cold cookie sheet with others that had already been made. She noted the eyes following her movements as she walked the cookie sheet over to the walk-in, leaving them inside the refrigerator. Exiting the walk-in, she strode over to where she'd put Tony to work, pleased to find that he'd been successful in his task.

"Well, I don't know about a genius," she said with a laugh, picking up the empty bowl as she surveyed the trays of cookies he had diligently prepped, "...but you have definitely got the makings of decent cookie scooper." She flashed him a teasing grin and tossed a stray walnut at him.

"Alert the media, I'm switching professions," he said looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"Come on, Cookie Scooper," Helen said tossing another walnut at him only to get a chocolate chip in return fire, "help me bring these trays to the oven."

Tony gladly followed Helen's example and stacked four of the trays in alternate directions and followed her over to one of the numerous industrial ovens. She had to remove a number of trays filled with muffins and the smells set Tony's mouth to watering. He eyed the ebony black double chocolate ones with great interest as Helen tossed the cookies in.

"Yo, Boss Lady!" Alex said, sticking her head into the kitchen. "There is some MIB guy asking for Stark. He says his name is, uh, Happy. Should I let him back or kick his ass out?"

Tony sighed knowing that good times have come to an end. "He's my chauffeur."

Alex pulled her head back out and Tony heard her tell the man to "head on back." The suited man strode into the kitchen took one look at him and simply raised an eyebrow.

"How much shit am I in with the Capsicle?" Tony said wearily, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"Well, considering everyone has been looking for you for hours now? A lot," Happy said with a shrug. "You put a Gag on JARVIS last night before you disappeared. I took a guess in coming here and got lucky."

"Shit," Tony cursed, digging in the pocket of his borrowed sweats for his phone. He totally forgot about the Gag Order on JARVIS. The AI had done a total blackout of his location, practically erasing him from the face of the earth overnight. 34-D had JARVIS going so far as to hacking into street cameras to erase any image that might show up on databases. He sent JARVIS a lift order on the Gag through a text.

"Here," Helen said, coming to stand next to him as she dug into her front pocket for the key to her apartment, leaving a mess of flour on her jeans. She handed it to him. "Your coat is still upstairs. Bring me my key back when you're done, will you?"

Tony wordlessly took the key and tried to ignore the feeling of dejection creeping up his throat at how fast she'd jumped on getting rid of him. He'd hoped… He didn't know what he hoped for from her, but he knew he didn't want to leave.

He muttered a quick "I'll be right back" to Happy and all but fled the kitchen. He ducked under the counter and made a beeline for the door, hanging a sharp left to take the stairs.

Opening the door wide, Tony paused. In clear line of sight he spied the ugly rainbow blanket draped across the back of Helen's couch with his coat, his neatly folded clothes from the night previous sitting on top of it. He contemplated the consequences for all three seconds before he decided to be two parts selfish and one part asshole, snatching up the blanket. He folded it as tight as he could and rolled it up in his coat with his other clothes.

Tony thundered down the stairs seeing Happy waiting for him as he reached the Café. "Here," he said, shoving the bundle to his chauffer as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Take this. I'll just be a second."

"I'll be in the car," Happy said with a short nod.

BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD~BD

Helen didn't know what to make of his expression the next time she saw Tony. It was a strange mixture of dejection, longing and plain stubbornness that had muted warning bells going off in the back of her mind.

"You leaving?" she asked as he handed her key back to her.

"Yeah," Tony said with a grimace, "time to go face the firing squad."

Helen laughed a bit and gave a small, teasing smile. "Well, you're welcome anytime you need to escape a bit. Just…preferably sober next time, alright?"

"Hmm…yeah, no promises on that one," he said with a shrug. "I'll see you around."

She watched him leave and stood there for a moment before her feet began to move of their own accord. She practically burst through the swinging door and ducked under the counter.

"Tony!" she called.

She didn't know what made her do it, but he stopped and turned and suddenly she had him in a hug, arms linked around his chest. He stood there startled for a moment before he seemed to relax. His arms came to settle around her and he hugged her back almost desperately tight as if he were drawing strength from her embrace.

Her magic sang in response, bleeding into the bits she'd left in him shoring up the cracks and strengthening them a little bit more. She felt him unconsciously hug her even tighter.

"Thank you," she heard him say quietly in a small voice.

Helen stood on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. "These doors are always open to you, Tony Stark," she said. She gave him one more comforting squeeze before reluctantly stepping back to let him go.

FIN