5. Exposure

"Tony?" Steve's voice shook and for a moment he felt frozen in place as Tony swayed on his feet slightly, leaning into the doorframe. Steve hadn't even heard the door open. "You're... back early."

"Just got in," Tony nodded, his eyes wide and glassy, and just the faintest bit horrified as he stared at the TV, the tape paused on Howard at his desk. Steve drew in a shaky breath.

"Damn it, Tony I'm so sorry, I didn't..." Tony ran a hand down his face, blinking rapidly.

"It's ok, Cap," Tony's voice was surprisingly steady as he glanced away struggling to pull himself together.

"I should have played them in my room," Steve lamented. "It's just... I wanted to be able to... distance myself if it got to be too much and you were out of town."

"Cap, it's ok, really," Tony repeated. His face was still ashen but it was the only indication he was affected at all as he squared his shoulders, crossing the lab to sink into his desk chair. He rolled it to the center of the room, staring at the TV with a blank expression. Steve picked his way carefully across the lab, swallowing as he clambered onto a stool at one of the workstations, almost close enough to reach out and touch the other man.

"Coulson gave me a crate they found in storage with my name on it," Steve related helplessly as if an explanation could some how mitigate the damage. He knew it couldn't but it was the only thing he had to offer. "I just thought it would be war stuff."

"Dad kept a video diary," Tony declared simply, never meeting his gaze.

"Yeah," Steve said softly. "I got that."

"The night," Tony choked on the words, grasping for control. "The night my folks died, Obie told me the roads were wet and the brakes gave out. And I told him it wasn't possible because I'd been home the weekend before and I'd tuned up the car and the brakes were fine. And he..." Tony's voice cracked and Steve winced.

"He told me never to repeat that," Tony's voice shook, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "To never admit that ever again. I thought it was because... because he thought I'd messed up something on the car."

"Stane," Steve spoke the name hesitantly but Tony didn't balk. "The arc reactor he stole... it was the one in your chest, wasn't it?" Tony's head whipped around, his eyes narrowing with malice. Steve looked away.

"After the fight with that stupid giant robot," Steve continued. "You took a blast to the chest, I brought you here and you locked down the lab and asked me to help you initialize a replacement arc reactor. You told me that Pepper and Rhodey were the only other people who knew how to do it and they weren't here so you needed my help. You made me swear never to tell anyone, ever. So if Stane didn't know how to activate an arc reactor..."

"He paralyzed me and pulled it from my chest," Tony confirmed nodding. "Left me to die on my living room couch." Tony looked back at the TV as Steve covered his mouth with his hands, a sick expression on his face.

"All this time I thought he blamed me for what happened to them," Tony rubbed his eyes, struggling to hold back the tide. "I thought he turned on me because his best friend died and he thought..." Tony drew in a long slow breath, letting it out with a shaky sigh.

"He was trying to cover his tracks," Tony whispered.

"It looks that way," Steve nodded in agreement. "If he was selling STARK tech on the black market..." Tony bolted to his feet, grasping the chair and hurling it across the room to crash into the cabinet along the wall. Steve was on his feet a second later, reaching a hand out to him but Tony brushed it away. He knocked the contents of one of the workbenches to the floor, parts and papers scattering across the tile. His hand closed over a hammer and he chucked it as hard as he could, his teeth gritting as it bounced off the bullet proof window glass and dented the industrial grade floors. He kicked over a tool chest with an angry scream, his chest heaving breathlessly and Steve's hand settled on his back in a gentle pressure.

"Tony,"

"No hugging!" Tony snapped, pointing an accusing finger at him, he drew in a handful of ragged breaths, the faintest whimper escaping his lips. "You're like a girl, what is wrong with you? Don't answer that, I really don't care. Just do not hug me! There is no hugging in science."

"Okay," Steve agreed, nodding. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything more.

"He was all I had left," Tony was shaking now, though from rage or shock Steve couldn't tell. "He made me think it was..." Tony stumbled and Steve grabbed hold of his arm to steady him. Tony slumped against his chest, grasping at Steve's shirt as he choked back a keening lament. Steve hesitated only a moment, letting one arm slip around Tony's shoulders.

"He made me think it was my fault," Tony whispered into Steve's shoulder. "It wasn't. I knew it wasn't. I knew I didn't make a mistake but every time he looked at me after that it was like he was telling me they were dead because of me. He killed them, he killed his best friend over money. He meddled with the brakes and then made me think it was my fault to keep me under control."

"Tony I'm so sorry," Steve murmured. They stood like that in silence, the minutes ticking by, Tony's ragged breathing the only sound.

"You're hugging me, Cap," Tony pointed out finally.

"Yeah, I am, kind of," Steve admitted, his cheek turning pink. "But I think we're ok as long as no one comes in here with their camera phones." Tony pulled away with a chuckle.

"Pepper'd have a field day," Tony nodded.

"Natasha'd put us all over the internet," Steve agreed. Tony let out a snort of amusement. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Darcy," they declared in unison, both of them shuddering.

"It's almost three in the morning, how long have you been down here?" Tony asked curiously.

"Um... four hours?" Steve shrugged. Tony rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"You hungry?" Tony asked, jerking his head toward the door. "I'm starving, I've been in the air all day."

"I'm always hungry," Steve admitted, a blush coloring his cheeks. Tony drew in a shaky breath. He wasn't ok, Steve could tell, but if Tony wanted to pretend, Steve wasn't going to stop him.

"Mac and cheese?" Tony suggested. Steve gave a shrug. Tony turned toward the door and stopped. Dum-E had rolled up behind him, a piece of drawing paper in his claws.

"Is that?" Tony took the paper, staring at it with a stunned expression.

"Looks like the arc reactor," Steve observed, his blush returning as he leaned over Tony's shoulder.

"Rogers did you give my bots... crayons?" Tony demanded, aghast. Steve gave him a helpless look.

"What's this?" Tony asked turning back to Dum-E.

"Um..." Steve wheedled hesitantly a moment and Tony looked back at him with a frown. "Actually I think it's meant to be a heart... you know how little kids draw a heart for their parents only the bots wouldn't know what that is, so."

"I'm going to stop you right there," Tony insisted with a scowl. "Because that is far and away the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say Cap, and you are not a moron. No matter what I tell people."

"Yeah, ok," Steve grinned, shifting past him and heading toward the door. "JARVIS, there's mac and cheese in the pantry, right?"

"And microwave burritos in the freezer, sir," JARVIS replied, his tone on the verge of condescending. Steve nodded and Tony glanced down at Dum-E.

"I love you too, buddy," He whispered. Stroking Dum-E's head. He crossed the lab, sticking the drawing to the pin board.

"You coming Tony?" Steve called.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your tights in a bunch, Capcicle!" Tony shouted back. "JARVIS, archive a copy of those films for me, would you?"

"Captain Rogers has already made that request sir," the AI replied. Tony shook his head.

"Of course he has," Tony sighed, he looked at the drawing once more before turning and heading out the door after Steve.

Steve leaned on the doorframe of the lab, his hands shoved in his pockets. Tony was sitting, hunched over his workbench, one screwdriver behind his ear and another prodding carefully at the casing he was inspecting. He wore an irritated expression that Steve had come to know well, the kind he had when he was faced with a problem he couldn't solve so instead chose to address an unimportant problem he could.

"Tony?" he called for the third time. Tony's hand froze in mid motion and he looked up, blinking as if he had been asleep. His eyes coming into focus slowly.

"Oh, mornin' Cap," he turned his attention back to his project as Steve stifled a snicker.

"It's almost seven pm," Steve declared, leaning on the edge of the workbench. Tony froze again, his brow knitting in confusion. Steve could almost see his brain working through that bit of information.

"Well, that's awkward," Tony admitted finally.

"You haven't eaten today, have you?" Steve asked in amusement.

"Depends on how you define food," Tony shrugged, gripping his screwdriver between his teeth and pulling the one out from behind his ear.

"Um, I just wanted to say I was sorry for using your lab without your permission." Steve said uncomfortably.

"I don't care if you hang out in my lab, Cap," Tony mumbled around the screwdriver.

"It's... I just."

"We're going to actually do this?" Tony asked in bewilderment, pulling the screwdriver from his lips.

"If you want to," Steve offered, his face coloring slightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Tony stated flatly.

"Because if you wanted," Steve's voice trailed off helplessly as Tony stared back at him with a frown.

"Do you want to?" Tony demanded, his gaze searching. Steve only stared back at him. "Son of a bitch." Tony declared finally in exasperation.

"Did you watch the tapes?" Steve asked softly.

"Some of them," Tony admitted with a shrug, turing back to his work. Steve shifted awkwardly back and forth for a moment.

"You should watch them all," he stated finally. He wasn't sure if he was giving permission or asking for something. He was fairly sure he didn't really need to do either. Tony would do exactly as he wanted.

"Let's just clear the air, ok?" Tony stated finally. "I don't care if you hang around in my lab and borrow my stuff and watch my TV, it's cool. I could keep you out of here if I wanted to, and I don't want to. I'm a little pissed off about the crayon marks on my counter." He shot a look at Yoo who was scrubbing at the kitchenette with the bot equivalent of a dejected expression.

"But that's not remotely the worst thing that's ever happened in here so I don't really have a problem there either," He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "So we're cool, right?" Steve nodded slowly and Tony gave a satisfied jerk of his head before resuming his tinkering. Steve watched in silence for a long moment, smiling ever so slightly.

"Look, Tony, I," He paused mid breath, his eye focusing on the inch wide metal disk Tony was painstakingly assembling. "Is that one of those control chips Ross used on us?"

"No!" Tony declared looking up in horror. He looked back down at his project before shuddering at the memory. "Hell no! I put this baby together from the ground up... I might have borrowed some ideas. Anyway, those tranks we keep shooting the Big Guy up with when he gets injured don't always work. And it's not like we actually need him unconscious, we just need to calm him down and dial back his pain response. With the right design modifications this thing could pretty much interrupt all the feedback signal between the brain and the central nervous system. One click and boom, no feeling at all. I figure STARK industries can make a bundle marketing it for medical applications." Steve stared at him open mouthed for a long moment.

"Situations where traditional anesthetic isn't an option," Steve supplied, his voice only slightly unsteady.

"Exactly!" Tony nodded cheerfully, pretending obliviousness at Steve's touched expression.

"Tony, I..."

"Don't," Tony interrupted with a scowl, shaking his screwdriver at Steve. "I know what you're thinking so just stop thinking it." Steve drew in a shaky breath.

"Howard," he began.

"Nope," Tony insisted, hunching himself over the workbench as if trying to make himself disappear.

"He would have been proud of you," Steve insisted vehemently. "He was proud of you. He should have told you. I'm sorry he didn't." Tony swallowed, not looking up.

"Yeah, me too." he said finally.

"I wish he hadn't wasted so much time," Steve began.

"Stop right there," Tony demanded, his expression stern. "You don't get to say that. You never get to say that. Those were some of the best memories I had with my old man, looking for you, building new tools for the search. He taught me everything I know, and he taught me while we were looking for you so don't you ever say that. Because if he'd have stopped, if I hadn't had that with him, neither one of us would be here right now. The only thing I wish is that he'd found you himself." Steve nodded, rubbing the moisture from the corners of his eyes.

"Are we done?" Tony demanded uncomfortably. Steve considered the question a moment. There was so much more that he'd wanted to say, but maybe it didn't really need saying anyway.

"Yeah," he nodded finally. Tony relaxed a fraction, scowling at his latest invention.

"Make yourself useful and hand me the soldering iron," he ordered. Steve complied with a soft smile.

"Phil and Bruce are grilling steaks," Steve declared presently. Tony swore under his breath.

"Dragging me out of the lab with the promise of charred red meat?" Tony gave him an incredulous look. "That is low, Rogers."

"I've been known to play dirty," Steve acknowledged with his most charming smile. Tony sighed, shaking his head.

"Close it up for the day, JARVIS," He said finally, amusement in his tone. "I have dinner plans."

"Very good, sir," the AI answered as Tony stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. Steve clapped him on the shoulder, steering him toward the door.

"You ok, Cap?" Tony half mumbled. Steve balked, a slow smile curling his lips. He let his arm drape around Tony's shoulder and the other man shied away, feigning disgust.

"Never better," Steve declared with a grin. And, he thought to himself, he really never had been.

exposure |ikˈspōZHər|

noun

1. the revelation of an identity or fact, esp. one that is concealed or likely to arouse disapproval.

2. the action of exposing a photographic film to light or other radiation.

Note:

Kodachrome was the first successfully marketed color film, developed by researchers at Eastman-Kodak and first commercially available for motion picture cameras in 1935 and still photography in 1936. Its complex three color developing system made it expensive to process and it's rich hues and vibrant texture made it highly prized by professionals and amateurs alike. Because of it's high cost to develop most photographers selected each shot carefully and even throw away film footage was kept. It remained the high water mark of still photography for three quarters of a century until the emergence of digital formats. Production of all forms of Kodachrome film was suspended in 2009. The final roll was developed in the worlds last remaining Kodachrome processing lab in Parsons, Kansas in January 2011.