616 Fic: Come Undone

[jazzypom.livejournal.com]

Title: Come Undone
Author: jazzypom
Disclaimer:Characters and situations are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. No profit is being made off this fan-written work.
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Universe: 616
Word Count: 2,300 words, approximately.
A/N: prompt written for e_s. After just getting him back, Tony nearly dies during the Siege and Steve reacts accordingly. So said, so done. Alas, this prompt became serious business real quick. I need to stop that. Refers to Thor no. 11, Siege, Dark Wolverine, all of Fraction's run on IIM so far, Captain America: Reborn (6 out of 5 issues) Cheers to jwaneeta for pointers on military protocol, and to posy for giving this a look over. Update: cheers to jynx for other edits.
Pairing/Characters: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers




The Siege was over.

Steve half thought that the sky had been steeped with the amount of blood that soaked the ground, because it was streaked withred like a Jackson Pollack painting.

He had good cause to think so, as he looked at the people scattered before him. Ranging from the able bodied walking around in a daze, to those who were limping, to bodies tossed aside like broken dolls. Despite the spring evening, the wind was chilly, the surroundings a bit darker because of the buildings throwing their shadows across the landscape.

Steve held his shield up, his eyes taking in the entire scene, seeing Daken in front of him, licking the gore from his claws.

"It's over," Steve said. Normally, even the most hardened villains paused at the steel in his voice, but Daken was having none of that.

"Osborn is done," he grinned.

"It's over for you too, Mister."

"For now." Daken straightened from his crouch, his claws in front of him as he got ready to spring. Steve shifted, went to ground, senses razor honed, ready for an attack that did not come. From the corner of his eye, Steve recognised the black and red blur. It was Moonstone, the Dark Avengers' Ms Marvel - according to his intel- as she swooped up Daken, her hands under his arms, Daken's laughter trailing behind the pair like noxious fumes. Steve let out a hiss of breath in disgust, as he turned to see Daken and Moonstar flying too fast and too erratically for others to catch them.

New York's finest was out in full force: policemen cordoning off various areas with yellow tape and black lettering. Firemen dousing smouldering ruins, and paramedics tending to the wounded. Daken was right. It was over for now. They would meet another day. Focus, Rogers, he castigated himself. Look at the now.

Now was Manhattan, crumbling to ground, Urich with his camera man in tow snapping pictures and providing commentary to the citizens of New York. This moment was Luke Cage lifting up buildings and Jessica Jones darting to and fro as she ferried people to the various ambulances and work stations. Falcon swooped to and fro overhead, as he relayed co-ordinates to people on the ground, via his ear piece. The swat teams following his mark as they went to dig survivors out of the rubble.

This second, Maria Hill now in front of him, beret on her head, with the gauze peeking out from under its brim. Some parts of the gauze still speckled with fresh blood, a lens of her shades shattered, while the other was complete.

"We did it, Captain," she said, as she greeted him with a short, sharp salute. Because it was expected, he returned the gesture, acknowledging the fact that they were on side, but nothing more. He knew that wars made strange bedfellows, but still. Steve realised that really, this grudge was for himself to work out, and no one else.

"I didn't really come here for the pat on the head," Ms. Hill replied as Steve noted the bruise on her cheek. Steve knew that tomorrow it would be the colour of bruised plums, before it faded out to a sickly yellow.

"Of course," Steve replied, his tones echoing hers. The coolness, the distance. They might be fighting on the side of the angels, but they weren't friends, and he realised that he could live with that.

"Anyway, I thought that you'd want to know, since you two are friends again. Dir- Tony Stark is laid up in the lab. Has been for the past hour."

Steve's attention snagged on that comment, as he took a step forward into Maria's space. "You knew this- and you're only telling me now?"

"We see to the welfare of civilians first, the last time I checked." She replied, her voice steady. Maria did not seem uncomfortable with Steve crowding her space, and he had to respect her for standing her ground. "Sir," she finished.

Steve stood there for a few seconds, again, to her credit, Hill didn't flinch, but her jaw was set, because she acknowledged the insult.

"Carry on," Steve finally said. Maria snapped a salute, Steve returned it, leaving her behind.

HAMMER HEADQUARTERS: SICK BAY

So many things had changed since he'd been gone, Steve realised. For instance, the floating global security headquarters wasn't SHIELD any more, but HAMMER, complete with a fist in the circle. He did not like the design much. No guilt there, Steve realised; it was good to be back and see friends again. At the sight of Dr. Donald Blake leaning on his cane, his white coat flowing with each movement, he stopped in his tracks.

"Don ," Steve reached over to shake his free hand. "Tony-"

"Takes a licking and keeps on ticking." At Steve's quizzical look, Dr Donald Blake shrugged. "The usual," he said, as he turned on his heel, and moved towards the end of the hall, the ease with his staff being as such that you almost didn't notice the limp.

"I thought Strange took care of that?" Steve shorted his gait to keep in line with Dr Blake's strides. "With his -"

"Hocus pocus?" at Steve's raised eyebrows, Dr Blake shrugged. "First and foremost, despite my alter ego, I'm a doctor -" he gave Steve a faint smile. " and everything else, a far second."

"Point taken," Steve nodded, as they stopped in front of the door. "This is where I leave you."

"Don, you -"

"I'm his primary physician. Everything else , you have to take up with the big guy when he presents himself." Dr Blake's eyes were frank, and kind. "He and Tony still have things to work out, as do both of you. I'm staying out of it. Press the buzzer when you're through, and I'll have a HAMMER agent escort you out."

"But we overthrew Osborn?"

"Like death and taxes, bureaucracy will always be with us."

Steve could appreciate the wryly observed comment. "Thanks for everything, Don"

Another smile, a firm nod, and Dr. Blake softly tapped his staff down the hallway. Taking a breath, Steve pressed his hand against the door, the scarlet of his gloves a splash of colour against the stark white of the door, wondering what would be behind the door. Not what he found when he first came back, with Tony in a coma, waiting to be rebooted astrally; him dazed as his memories uploaded, trying to catch up with his consciousness. Nor would he be Tony of those years past, when a self-conscious shrug and smile would put things to rights. For a moment, Steve thought about turning on his heel and walking away. To avail himself of the HAMMER escort and be flown off base. But the longer he left matters as they were between them, Steve knew, the harder it might be for them to come back to what they were. At the very least they were on the same side, joined by history and purpose if nothing else was worthwhile.

That decided, Steve lifted his glove away from the door, formed his fingers into a fist, and rapped softly, giving a few seconds before he pushed the door open, half hoping that Tony'd be asleep, that he could do this tomorrow.

"Cap," a flicker of surprise flitted across Tony's features, before he smiled. It was one that Steve knew well, when Tony was a snake oil salesman with enough charm for it to be endearing and not smarmy. "What brings you here?"

"Heard you went down during the siege." Steve reached for the chair, half wishing he were in civilian clothing instead of his uniform. He also wished he'd not come empty handed, because the room was bare of everything else except the equipment and bed. Normally, when Tony had been laid up in hospital, his staff made sure he had flowers in cheerful stout vases, and brightly coloured get well cards. From Ms Abergast to Ms Potts, Tony's needs had been well taken care of. Tony must have noticed him scanning the room, because he said, "Sorry. I'm not really Mister Popularity these days. Let's just say, the 'Stark' franchise has taken a battering over the past few years."

"Is there still a brand?" Steve stood behind the chair, resting his hands on its back. "I mean, I haven't really caught up since I've been back, I-"

Tony gave a half shrug of his shoulders. By all rights, it should have come off as nonchalant, but it only came off as fatigue, and the lines at the corners of his eyes underscored that fact. When had Tony gotten so old?

"Pepper had to sell the company," Tony gave a wave, as if it were a gossip at a church outing, and it happened to a mutual acquaintance, and not so close to home. "Then stuff happened."

"Like you being a fugitive? Then you shutting your brain down?" The tone of his voice gave the questions an edge that he recognised, and Steve tried to dial the aggression back a notch.

"Oh, you have been keeping up." Tony ran a hand through his hair, and it was still on this side of short, with various bits sticking up and not falling back into place.

"God, Tony," an ejaculation of words now, as Steve couldn't stop himself from holding forth. "What on God's green earth were you thinking? About the Civil War-"

"Old news, Steve," Tony pushed himself upright, refusing to rely on the bed for support. "I told you, that was the deal, that if you decided to wake me up, we wouldn't rehash, we would move on."

Of all the sanctimonious, manipulative -"That's it, no apologies?"

"I didn't say that-" gone were the placid tones from Tony's voice, replaced with a thread of anger, and for the sake of everything, Steve took a step back, feeling the cool, hard surface of the wall through his leathers.

"You know," Steve began, crossing his legs at the ankles while still leaning against the wall. "When I was dead, I spoke with Thor. He offered -" Steve shook his head. "Vengeance, Tony," there was a tremor threading through Steve's words. "Because what you did was beyond the pale. And then, to just risk your life needlessly back there against super-powered villains, although you don't have the Extremis any more -"

"Now, wait a minute -"

"No," Steve muscled in, and he just couldn't stop interrupting. It seemed that he had stuff to say after all. "You wait a minute. You can't keep doing this, Tony," Steve shook his head, spreading his hands in exasperation. "You can't continue to give yourself absolution for everyone else. You just can't think that playing martyr negates everything you've done."

"I am no martyr," Tony finally answered, and despite Steve's advantage of standing up, and Tony having to tilt his head to look in his eyes, he held his own. "I didn't set out to be St. Sebastian of the SHRA . If you were in my shoes, you might have kept the same appointments I kept, probably observed the same stations of the metaphorical cross. Until such time, this argument is moot."

"Perhaps you don't deserve flowers after all." Steve said in the silence, as he moved to sit down on the chair beside Tony's bed.

To his surprise, Tony started to laugh. "You were never one to spare my feelings, Steve. Not if you could help it. The fact that you can still do that is strangely comforting."

"You were always bull-headed," Steve rubbed the nape of his neck. "The fact that I can come back from the dead and still want to deck you is testament to your strength at being an ass, Tony."

"So." Tony picked at his sheet, rubbing a bit between his forefinger and thumb and Steve had an unflattering thought of Tony noting the thread count and finding it wanting. "We've come to a Mexican stand off, it seems."

"It seems," Steve nodded, as he leaned forward and linked his fingers together. "When you get out, I might not be around, I'm taking some time off for a while."

"And Captain America?"

"Bucky's been doing great," and at this, Steve gave Tony the easiest smile so far. "You made a good call on that one. You looked after Bucky like I asked you to. You didn't leave him to lose himself like he could have done-" Steve's voice was gruff with emotion, and he cleared his throat, held out his hand, palm up for Tony to shake. "Thank you. I'm sure it was hard for you," -for this he could express gratitude- "what with everything going on back then."

"It was my pleasure Steve." Tony clasped his hand, in a firm handshake. Businessman to the bone, his Tony, no matter what else was going on, he still had his game face. "Bucky's been a great Cap, because he learnt from the best. Don't tell him I said that, though."

"I won't," Steve replied, humbled that despite Tony and Bucky's mutual apathy, they got it together in the end. Probably, most possibly, he and Tony might get back to what they were in the end. Maybe.

Steve rose from the chair, walked across the room to the door, only for Tony's voice to stop him. "Thanks for visiting, Steve, even though you didn't bring me flowers."

"Tell you what," Steve replied, because he appreciated Tony trying to keep it light, not let things end between them -for now- on a bad note. So although it cost him to smile, to make his voice easy, Steve did it. "I'll send you - " he shook his head, laughed and it might been a bit ragged along the edges. He couldn't finish the sentence and keep a straight face. The scenario was too ridiculous. "I'll see what Sharon says," he offered finally.

"Sure," Tony gave a small wave, nothing but a half hearted lift of his hand. "As long as they aren't carnations. I'm allergic."

Steve told himself not to look back as he shut the door behind him.


End.