Three days

It had been three days since the failure and there had been no phone calls, no voicemails, no random visitors or letters. Tony had vanished into the depths of his workshop never to be seen again – the doors on lock down and his artificial butler commanded to answer to no one – and the team was losing hope.

They had been so sure about this – well the secret agents had at least – so sure that with the scientist back in the picture, those little mistakes would stop happening. The little mistakes like missed meals or sleep, like the times a bullet would clip the suit because he wasn't paying enough attention to dodge it. Maybe even the times where supervillains would learn how to shut said suit down, all because he wasn't keeping up with its firewalls and improvements.

Three days and all the hope had turned into ignored messages and locked doors.

But Clint? The very same man who'd been smug when proven right – his words, not hers – about the plan falling to shit, was now almost infuriated by it all. Hawk like eyes were scouring the planet to find someone to blame for his teammates heartache, to find someone who could shoulder his ire – and right now? Right now, those eyes were settled on a certain redhead

"You know he built a coffee machine down there yesterday, right?" Clint announced blandly, staring relentlessly her way as his hands toyed with a knife. It flipped and swung in his hands, darting between fingers and over his palm; a physical representation of the anger he felt. "Now he never needs to leave."

The redhead kept an eye on both the archer's temperament and the knife – a sharpened blade that seemed to move with more volatility the longer she took to acknowledge his words. Natasha canted her head to the side. "I am aware, yes…"

There was a muscle in his cheek that twitched with the words. "And?"

Natasha let out a sigh, calmly flicking the page of the novel she was trying to find the willpower to read. "And what, Clint? I can't go down there, you know I can't break the workshop's lockdown. You can't go down there, there's no vents wide enough. Jarvis can't help, no matter how much he wants too, because the new protocol installed refuses his usual free will. Tony isn't interested in us, or in our excuses," she clicked her tongue, pushing the book to the side and meeting an annoyed glare. "So, pray tell, what do you expect me to do about it?"

Clint took in a measured breath. "Something? Fucking anything? I mean, come on, Natasha, you always have something up your sleeve," he begged her now, moving from his seat and pacing the length of the kitchen. "Fix him."

Fix him? Tony Stark?

Unlikely.

Drumming her fingers against the marble, she tried to think through her next words. "I hate to say this, but the only person who can help him is her," she pointed out quietly, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. "I know it makes this all sound like some stupid romantic comedy, but we need to let this sort out on its own. If we meddle, you know we'll only make it worse."

"We already have." Clint grumbled, rubbing both hands down his face. "Look, it's been three days and she hasn't made a move – what makes you so sure this is a waiting game? I caught a glimpse of his face before he hid away in the workshop, and for him, this is a homicidal game. The only thing he's waiting for, is a chance to release a repulsor ray between her eyes."

Natasha smiled almost serenely. "Okay, one – she'd survive it. Two, unlike you, I saw her face when he stormed from that café. I heard how she spoke about him," she grinned, watching the man slowly give her his interest again. "It's a waiting game. As for our genius? I guarantee if he sees her eyes, he'll be weak."

The archer licked his teeth, chin lifted and eyes studiously tearing her words apart. "Are you seriously trying to tell me she's in love with him?" Clint groaned and turned away from her, uninterested now in the conversation. "In case you don't remember, she left and didn't come back, she faked her death and didn't tell him. Tony's the one in love with her and it's unrequited."

The assassin let out a tremendous sigh. "You're not looking deep enough into this," she grumbled teasingly. "Men."

"No, you're looking too deep into this," Clint corrected, and there was anger, not warmth in his words like there had been in hers. "You're the one pretending this is some big deal when she couldn't care less about him. If you keep bringing his hopes up, it'll hurt more when she – "

Both assassins froze when a phone started ringing, the latest in communication technology innocently vibrating across the counter. Natasha stared at it for a few beats too long, realizing it was her phone and an unknown number was flashing on the screen. "You don't think it's…" she wondered quietly, looking up at her partner with widening eyes. "I mean, it couldn't be…"

Clint was awkwardly shifting on his feet, both uncertain and excited. "It would be too much of a coincidence," he brushed aside, looking every bit like he didn't even believe his own words. "I mean, it would fit the plot of some stupid romantic comedy, but this is real life."

Natasha scooped up the phone. "Nobody has my number," she reminded the man, steeling both her nerves and her voice. "It's her, I know it's her." The archer only shook his head as she went to answer, hair flicked over a shoulder and voice steely. "Natasha Romanova."

Clint mocked her from across the counter, mouthing the words she'd spoken with a stupid expression.

There was the lightly brushing of a sigh against the phone, someone breathing out before; "Yeah, Natalie, it's uh, it's me," she allowed shakily, a throat clear and second sigh sounding next. "I'm ringing. Like you told me too."

Poking out her tongue in a childish display – shame you bastard, I win this round – the red head let her voice betray nothing. "Ah, Doctor Daniels? It's nice to hear from you. I was losing hope," she teased dully, trying to hide a smile when the man across from her choked on a corn chip. It was rather satisfying when she was right, and he wasn't. "How have you been?"

Quinn only hummed back. "How has he been?" she countered, clearly having no interest in answering her question.

Natasha cleared her throat. "He's not… he's not in the best shape, I'll be honest with you," she admitted quietly, sharing a look with keen eyes. "We haven't seen him since he left to meet us at the café, and the entire workshop is on lockdown. It's a procedure to protect our files and technology should anyone over the tower or break in – but he's activated it now and changed the protocols. It can't be deactivated."

The doctor seemed to chew over the words for a few minutes, only sighs heard down the line. "He hasn't even left for a coffee yet?" she chuckled faintly, swallowing hard when the red head muttered something – something about how'd managed to make one from an old toaster oven. "Really? I guess I'm glad to see he hasn't changed. I'll admit a toaster oven wouldn't have been my first choice."

"Nope, he hasn't changed," Natasha agreed. "Still drinks too much caffeine and cares too much about people who don't seem to care about him,"

Quinn completely ignored the words, now murmuring random memories from the time she must've spent with the billionaire. "Did he ever tell you how he made me a comb from the metal casing of a missile? I had a nuclear comb. It was rather awesome. He also made me stripper heels as a joke," she snorted, and humor made her voice warmer, an echo of what it must've once been. "He told me I looked bomb in them and then sniggered for three hours."

Even the redhead had to crack a smile at that, hearing the man she knew ring true in the words. "Oh yeah, hasn't changed," she promised, waving a hand when the archer gestured for her to hurry up. "It's nice to see you finally rang me."

The doctor made an aborted sound. "I promise you it wasn't my first choice. It was my boss's though. I'm running solely on energy drinks and caffeine right now, and he was worried I might screw up in the laboratory," she admitted quietly, a rustle of clothing making it sound like she'd shrugged rather hopelessly. "I haven't slept more than four hours since I saw you last. It's been great. Really helping my work ethic"

"Sarcasm?" Natasha wondered.

Quinn growled lightly, sounding suspiciously like an angered kitten. "What the hell do you think?" she snapped harshly, taking less than a minute to mutter out an apology. "I'm sorry, I haven't… yeah, I haven't slept…"

Natasha pursed her lips, not so much offended as she was concerned. "It's perfectly okay. Tony does the same thing," she excused lightly, trying for a shrug of her own before she sighed. "I think most people do – anger is easier than facing whatever's upset you, don't you think?"

The doctor only let out a snort, the phone screaming out some interference, before the softer voice was back. "This call was such a stupid idea," she whispered, broken chuckle sounding not far afterwards. "I don't even know why I bothered. I'm sorry if I disturbed you…"

"Quinn, you bothered because you – "

The dial tone screamed out.

Natasha took the phone away from her ear, quickly placing it back and calling out again. "Quinn? Hello?" she called, brow coming down before, once again, she pulled it away from her head. The phone only told her the call was gone, before going back to its usual lock screen, "Fuck!"

In the beginning he hadn't bothered listening to the artificial intelligence when it spoke to him, tuning out the concerned words and heavy suggestions to deactivate the lockdown. Tony knew what he'd say – have you eaten, are you going to sleep tonight? – so it wasn't like he was missing much.

Then he'd heard her name, and the wrench he'd been holding clattered to the ground.

Jarvis knew better than to bring her up, even before the whole fucking mess a few days ago. He might have danced around the issue a little at first, maybe saying her name when the genius hadn't eaten or slept those first few months after the cave, but only in the beginning. After six months, the billionaire would snap if her name was mentioned, and after eight, the artificial man had learnt to shut up.

Then, after twelve, he'd found the metal comb he'd stolen from that cave engraved with her name – and after fifteen he'd stopped crying whenever he saw it.

Time will heal all wounds, my little one, his mother would preach, still calling him that stupid pet name even when he grew taller than she stood. Time will heal all wounds, my little one, as long as you let it.

He was letting it, but no one else was?

Tony swallowed, watching the soldering iron he'd been fixing go dark. "Jay," he called out carefully, cracking his neck. It must've been a mistake, maybe the artificial man had said something wrong, or maybe he hadn't heard it right. "What the hell did you say?"

The intelligence seemed almost nervous to repeat it, taking a few seconds to speak again. "Agent Romanova received a phone call from an unverified number – and as per your safety requirements, I recorded the conversation for potential future reference. Quinn Daniels was the caller," he announced, sounding empathic when the genius choked at the sound of her name. "Sir, I think it might be – "

"Don't," Tony snapped, throwing the iron to the side and hearing it crash through other inventions. "Whatever you think you wanna say, don't."

Jarvis let out his version of a sigh, mechanical bubbles floating throughout the wide room. "It's not what I think I want to say, but rather what I think you need to hear, sir," he decided, and then a painfully familiar voice was playing through the room.

"Did he ever tell you how he made me a comb from the metal casing of a missile? I had a nuclear comb. It was rather awesome. "

Tony let out a slight moan, looking towards the far side of the room, towards the comb he knew was strategically hidden underneath rubbish on his favorite desk. It was her voice – not whatever gross lie that voice in the café had been – and it was their memories, their time together. "Is this from the phone call?" he whispered, dropping his head and watching the sweat drip to the tabletop.

There was a small second of silence and then; "Yes, sir, this is from the call," the intelligence allowed, seeming to pause yet again before speaking up. "There is more. Daniels asks about you, and also mentions more time from the cave."

Tony knew he was about to play the recording, he knew it, but he couldn't quite find the strength to stop it."He also made me stripper heels as a joke." The words made him laugh, shaking his head and watching his sweat pool almost artistically below him. God, he remembered that. It had taken him all night, secretly soldering metal together, but it had been worth it "He told me I looked bomb in them and then sniggered for three hours."

It was her…

Quinn.

The laughter dissipated frighteningly quick after that, like the quick slice of a blade against skin, or the rapid fire of a gun. "Quinn is alive," he realized, swallowing when something caught in his throat. "Quinn… is alive… and she left me?"

That was something his faithful butler didn't have an answer too.

Tony took in a shuddering breath, pushing away from the desk. "Let me get this straight…" he started slowly, storming towards the other side of the room. His hands started tearing through that desk, knowing exactly what things he needed to move. "I searched for her, day and night… I looked everywhere in that damn cave and in every fucking cave those assholes hid in after that – but she was alive? Happily alive without me?"

"I wouldn't say happy, sir," Jarvis dared to reply, his voice as hesitant as a hand on his shoulder, as hesitant as a peace offering. "I would say she was surviving rather than living. I would say that – going by the knowledge of human behavioral patterns you've installed on my drive – her lack of care about her own wellbeing paired with her forward way of caring for you… suggests she cares as strongly about you as you do for her. It suggests she was only as happy as you were, when you both lived apart."

Tony laughed, finally emerging with that stupid fucking comb. The dull metal didn't shine in the light, but he was still entranced by it, twisting and turning it and feeling its weight in his hands. "It suggests she feels guilty, nothing else," he corrected quietly, trying to find that anger again, the one he'd been feeling seconds ago – but it ran from him, hiding under blue eyes and a warm smile. "You traced the call too then, didn't you? As per my safety requirements."

Jarvis sighed again. "That I did, sir…"

The billionaire felt his teeth clench and muscles tense, body readying for a fight he knew he wasn't ready to face. "I knew I created you for a reason," he murmured with empty humor, running his fingertips over the comb before shoving it into his pocket. His legs carried him over to the clean part of the room then, centering him inside a familiar circle of arms almost without his permission. "Jay, get the suit ready."

What the hell had she'd been thinking? Why the hell was she still thinking it?

Quinn let out a soundless scream, glaring back at her cellphone and the innocent sheet of cardboard beside it. The number was still sitting on the screen, waiting for her to once again press talk and start a new conversation – the sheet of cardboard was waiting too, but as insurance, making sure she couldn't use the excuse of forgetting the number as her reason to never call.

It was both tempting and painful. Tony was so close now, almost within her reach, and all she had to do was ring a number and swallow her pride. All she had to do was admit she'd been too scared to go back to him when she'd crawled out of that cave alive.

He'd… he'd forgive her, wouldn't he?

Wouldn't he?

The doctor let out a careful breath, fingers tangled in her hair and nails digging into her scalp. It had been three months locked in a cave together, with only each other for company and affection – no shit he'd grown attached then, but outside that cage? Tony didn't need her in the real world. Yes, she'd been the only reason he'd stayed sane those few weeks, but he could do it on his own now.

Quinn bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling salted water drip down to hit her blouse. It left a single stain, and absently she wondered how many times such a mark had peppered her clothing, all because of; "Tony…"

Restlessly, she started to wander to one end of her apartment, and then to the other. – pacing a sharp line into her carpet.

He'd needed her then, but he didn't need her now. If she showed up on his doorstep, he wouldn't turn her away, no, that wasn't what she was saying. Quinn wasn't saying he was heartless. He'd feel companionship at first, she knew that, but it would all fade and she'd be put back on his doorstep with her heart in her hand – a heart that had been used and discarded.

It seemed selfish, but she had to protect herself somehow.

That somehow meant never seeing him again.

It was funny almost, wasn't it? That the only thing she wanted was to see him again, but she couldn't, not with the rules she'd set out. It was her own words, her own decision to save her heart the pain, that was causing all the agony she felt now.

But what pain was worse? It had been a few years since the… incident, yes, but that hadn't done much to heal the wound. Her choices were to either suffer through the dulled ache for the rest of her life, or storm into that workshop and watch him slip away despite her struggles to keep him. It was either decide to lose him, or chose to keep him and then lose him anyway.

"There's no winning," she realized almost mournfully, dropping in the middle of her lounge. Her skin was burning, hot with something like a fever, and the breeze from her open balcony door only helped so much. "I can only lose him."

The door to her apartment shuddered under the weight of someone's pounding, and she hurried to wipe her eyes, straightening out the crooked line to her shirt. In the time it took her to do that, they'd pounded again, clearly impatient and she shot the door a confused look. Who the hell was banging down her door? Her rent was up to date, wasn't it?

Quinn brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I'm coming, sorry," she called out, fixing her hair before she pulled the door open.

Her neighbor stared back, ears almost steaming. "What's with the yelling?" she screeched, immediately gesturing to the walls around them. "These walls are paper thin, you know? I'm sick of hearing every damn thing you do. Either shut up or I'm calling the landlord."

"I'm sorry, I was a little frustrated about – "

The woman was already storming towards the elevator, tutting and swearing under her breath. Quinn watched her move before stepping back, happily letting the door slam and hopefully annoying everyone on the other side of the paper-thin walls. "Stupid bitch," she grumbled, shaking her head. "The rent here is over half my damn paycheck. The walls are probably made of reinforced steel."

The doctor turned around then, letting out a scream when something red and gold was glaring back from the balcony.

It took her less than a second to realize what – or rather who it was – and her heart kept pounding, still terrified but for different reasons. "Tony," she whispered, shaking her head and backing away until she hit wood. "Tony, you…"

The faceplate didn't lift like she thought it would, but rather stayed down and emitted a mechanical voice. "Look who it is," he chimed, suit whirling as it strutted forward, arms open in a mocking show of invitation. "That neighbor of yours seems pissed. Be careful with her, she might attack you one day, but no need to panic, right? You'll easily survive a gunshot wound or three…"

Quinn swallowed, looking around the apartment like something would save her from the situation. Her eyes landed on the phone, and it all kinda clicked in her head. "You traced my number, didn't you? Is that why she told me to call?"

The suit was rather intimidating she realized, watching it stalk even closer to where she cowered. "Natasha? Wow, you guys are closer friends than I thought then. Lunch dates, swapping numbers, phone calls. You gonna fake your death and abandon her too?"

"Tony, that wasn't – "

The man in the suit didn't listen, cornering her and looming, forcing her to hunch up her shoulders and hide behind her bangs. "If you do, tell me, maybe good ol' Natasha and I can start a club," he continued, mechanical voice practically a growl. "Get matching jackets. Quinn Abandonment Inc."

There was no stopping him, was there? Quinn stayed hidden, lowering her eyes to stare at the glowing arc reactor, watching it hum with life.

"You know, I wasn't angry before. I tried to be, but I couldn't find it, I was just… I was just so happy you were alive, but then you know what I remembered?" Tony was practically snarling now, watching her to make sure she didn't escape. "I remembered how much I cried thinking I lost you. I remembered that while I was crying, you were probably happily living your life. I remembered how much it hurt me to lose you, but you didn't even blink when you left me to that pain."

Quinn was openly crying now, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and adding to the collection of water marks on her plain shirt – but she didn't do anything to stop him. It was anger, and it was what she deserved for years of lying to him. He had every right to let it all out, and she had no right to hide. "I wasn't fine," she argued weakly, voice shaking and barely heard over his suit whining.

Tony stopped then, stopped advancing and straightened up. "Oh, look she's even crying…" he noticed mockingly.

The doctor glared up now, looking where she knew his eyes were, and glaring with all she had. "How dare you," she murmured darkly, both hands whacking the center of his chest. It did nothing but shoot pain up her arms – pain that lasted less than a second as the muscle and nerve damage was repaired. "God, why does everything have to be about you? Do you honestly think you're the only person in the world who feels pain?"

"I think I'm the only one in this room who feels anything," he corrected quietly, and the mask finally came up, revealing big brown eyes and the wet mess they'd become. It hurt to see him cry, but she bit her lip against the emotion. "Why'd you leave? Why didn't you come back?"

Quinn looked away, wrapping her arms around her middle as she danced away from the suited man. "I'm not the one who left, remember? You flew away in that metal abomination and left me bleeding to death in the sand," she announced dryly, somehow managing to say it with little feeling.

The suit was shifting oddly, moving away, and the man gracefully stepped out. "Yet, here you are," he muttered. "I asked two questions."

"I answered one."

Tony seemed to move with her, matching her step for step, tilting his head down just enough to watch her through his lashes. It would've made her heart beat double time back then, made her palms sweat and cheeks heat, but it only made her nervous now. It felt dangerously similar to being stalked by a wild animal, and everything inside her head was telling her to run and hide – to get away.

Quinn swallowed hard. "What do you want?" she managed through her teeth, glaring up at him without heat. "What could you possibly want now?"

The man was watching her, head canted to the side and something running behind his eyes. "I want to take you out," he decided abruptly, holding out a hand. It was both a peace treaty and a threat, hanging between them silently. "I want to take you to dinner, will you come?"

"Tony, I really don't think that's a – "

It was a sigh that broke her words, the billionaire dropping the offered limb and shaking his head. "You used to tell me everything," he smiled weakly, and she realized with a start that he'd lost his anger once more. "In that cave. You told me every secret you'd ever been told or kept from someone. You told me every stupid thing you'd ever done. You told me everything you felt as soon as you felt it."

Quinn licked her lips, opening and closing her mouth. It was hard to find the right words, to find how she was meant to reply to something like that. it was hard to believe the reprieve from his anger would last long enough for her to speak.

"I know you probably think I never listened to you," Tony smiled again, blinking owlishly her way. "But I did. I listened, and I learned."

If she didn't say something soon, he'd keep talking.

Tony slowly started wandering her apartment. "So, can I ask what's making you hide? Will you answer that for me?" he wondered, picking up a photo frame. It was a simple photo of her with her parents, and he gripped it with both hands, a smile on his face. "You never used to hide from me."

It was strange, but she wanted him to start yelling again, she wanted him to kick and scream again. The calm look he had wasn't right, didn't sit with the situation they were in. "Why aren't you mad?" she whispered, brow down and eyes confused. "After everything I did, why aren't you mad? Why… why do you want to take me to dinner? Why are you even here at all? Things – things can't go back to the way they were, you know that, don't you?"

Tony looked pained for a second. "I hope they don't go back to the way they were," he chuckled. "I mean, we were trapped in a cave…"

"We can't go back to the way we were."

The corrected words made him openly wince, and he took in a shuddering breath, suddenly finding the strength to look up. It was in his eyes, all her answers, all the broken anger and pain. "Why not?" he wondered, laughing again but not quite managing to complete the sound. "You called Natasha back, you must've hoped for… for something, right? Come on, Queen, help me out here. I'm trying."

Quinn could only shake her head again.

"Okay, okay, I see how it is," Tony licked his teeth, and like a spark coming into being, his anger was back. It was bright in his eyes, like fire, but he pulled away, hiding his face and his anger. "For three months, you trained me? Trained me to need you. Trained me to be unable to live without you."

Don't do it. Don't set up your own heartbreak. Quinn bit her tongue, trembling with the willpower it took to refrain from touching, from talking, from reaching out for the man she'd missed for over three years. He won't need you for long, he won't want you for long. Let him get mad. Let him walk away.

Only he wasn't walking…

Tony finally turned to face her again, and the anger was muted, was crushed beneath the weight of his mind. "You succeeded, if you're wondering," he grinned weakly, standing tall and holding out both his arms. It looked like a victory pose, looked like he was accepting an award in front of millions. He looked like the millionaire he was, only his eyes were pained. "Consider me well trained. I can't live without you. Congratulations."

It wasn't possible to cry so much in one day. Quinn bit her lip, feeling it tremble even when it was caught between her teeth. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, feeling her heart break in her chest. It hurt, it hurt so damn much. "I'm so sorry…"

When her legs gave out, taking her down, he went with her – arms around her shoulders and lips shushing the violent tears. "It's okay, Queen, hey, it's okay..."

After everything she'd done to him, he still held her as she cried – like he used to back in the cave. He held her and stayed strong despite the slightest shake to his muscles, despite how obviously he was breaking down as well. He was fighting to be the comfort she needed, and her heart shattered further.

He'd never cried in that cave. He'd always been this solid rock, holding her up and keeping strength in her veins, even when he'd had none in his own. If she cried, he'd wiped her tears. If her stomach rumbled, he gave her his rations. If her mouth was dry, she'd find water in her canteen. Tony had been her hero even back then, and she'd repaid him by leaving him when he'd needed her most.

What kind of person did that make her?

Quinn felt almost ugly, vulnerable as she sobbed. "I'm so sorry," she managed again, clinging to his shirt like a child. "I left you… I left you because I was scared. I was scared that when you had everything again – the media, the money, the women – you wouldn't need me anymore. I didn't wanna be hurt. I'm so sorry…"

"I'll always need you, okay?" Tony whispered, petting her hair, crushing the ends between his fingers. "Money can't replace you," he continued, voice thick with his own emotion, but sweeter than honey. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, and she chuckled through the tears, the sobs lessening enough that she finally felt she could breath. They were okay. They were reunited, and they were okay. Everything was going to be fine.

Tony's hands tightened. "No one is ever taking you from me again."

Everything was going to be fine.

I'm finally back and - *hides behind computer screen* - and I know it's been ages since I updated. Please don't kill me. I'm sorry, but the holidays always stress me out, and school is kicking my ass and ugh, I have so many excuses and I'm sorry…

Are you mad?

Taila xx