Disclaimer: I do not own anything Captain America or Marvel. Original character is original and thus, mine.

Prologue

Ever since word began to spread that Tony Stark was doling out grants and donations like parade candy, the invitations to various galas and fundraisers increased exponentially. As a much younger man, Tony had looked forward to them, filled with beautiful women and enough mind-altering substances to distract an army from the various slings and arrows of daily life. The Tony of just a few years ago was still fond of them. Money and status brought with it certain privileges, and he had grown accustomed to moving in certain circles. He attended the soirees Pepper pointed him at, and generally enjoyed himself. Over the past year, however, the events he had previously loved were beginning to feel more and more intrusive. He would pick one each week to attend, dress in his best suits and his most convincing smile, and rub elbows with the upper crust for an evening. He found a few interesting projects to invest in, and even the odd one that seemed promising, but nothing that captivated him, nothing that struck him as something useful in the fight against whatever was coming. He kept going, though, on the off chance he would find something, anything, that might lead to the next great discovery, some connection that would lead him to solve the riddle of how to keep the world safe.

Tonight was no different. One strong drink was enough to dull the keening voice in the back of his mind to get back to the lab, back to work, back to his search for next innovation that might make his suits unstoppable, or at least good enough to defeat whatever the universe might throw at them next. He turned his attention instead to banal conversation. The food was flavorless, the music uninspired, and he found himself wondering how he used to like these events. He tried not to think about how much he would rather be at home; not in the cold and empty bed he hadn't bothered with in weeks, but in the lab, working steadily until he either passed out or Friday talked him into setting down the equations for a few hours. He tried not to think of the casualties in his latest battles with his inner demons; those he tried desperately to hold onto but that slipped through his fingers like handfuls of sand. It had only been a few weeks since he had fought with Rogers and Barnes, and then had half of the Avengers vanish with them, cutting their tiny army in half in a time when they needed to be increasing their resources instead. Ever more, it felt as if the job of defending the planet was falling squarely on his shoulders, and some days he felt as if the weight of it might break him. Despite the size and grandeur of the ballroom, the air seemed still and stifling. When the walls started to feel as if they were closing in on him, he excused himself and escaped to the nearest balcony. Here, the air was at least cooler. Tony set his drink down on the stone balustrade and took a deep breath, raising his eyes to the night sky. The deep breath turned into a gasp as he saw an alien fleet stretched out among the stars above him. He immediately reached for the cufflinks that doubled as a call button for his suit, preparing to become Iron Man and fight them all off by himself, if necessary. He glanced at the party behind him, full of innocent people oblivious to the danger above them, then looked back up at the stars and blinked at the suddenly empty sky. Letting out his breath, he jerked his hand away from the cufflink and leaned on the balustrade. He put his other hand to his face and realized that it was suddenly numb.

"Mr. Stark, I was hoping you would be here tonight." The quiet voice came from the shadows at the edge of the balcony. Tony turned with a frown to see a small, slender woman with dark hair approaching him, her hand extended in greeting. "Dr. Nyssa Taylor." He took her hand, and his body immediately relaxed, all traces of anxiety vanishing instantly. He blinked and looked at her more closely. Despite her diminutive stature, she was striking, with her dark hair swept up to the top of her head, then cascading down past her shoulders in a waterfall of curls. She wore a shimmering lavender gown that left her arms and shoulders bare, but clung to her slender figure before flowing down almost to the floor. It was her hazel eyes that were most arresting, and seemed to see through to his soul. He wondered how long she had been standing there, and how much she had witnessed.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Taylor," he replied. "I didn't notice you here earlier." She smiled at him.

"I tend to keep a low profile at these things," she acknowledged. "The spotlight doesn't suit me nearly as well as it does you." Tony looked her up and down.

"I find that hard to believe." He held up a finger as he finally placed the name. "Phoenix Rising Foundation, correct?" She nodded, and he pointed at her. "Pretty sure I already gave at the office." She chuckled.

"You did, and very generously. I'm not here to ask you for money." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I heard about your Binarily Augmented Retro Framing and thought perhaps we could collaborate on therapeutic applications and treatment protocols. Also, possibly brainstorm some different names. I'm not sure I could convince my clients to try something called BARF, even if it was invented by the great Tony Stark." Tony snorted.

"I hate to admit it, but sometimes I'm better at inventing these things than naming them."

"It's good to know your strengths." She propped her elbows on the parapet and looked up at the dark sky above them. Tony frowned as he noticed that she was now wearing gloves, but he didn't recall seeing her put them on. "I know mine. I would also like to offer my services to you, Mr. Stark. I think you would greatly benefit." Tony frowned and took a step back.

"What do you know about me?" he asked suspiciously. She turned towards him calmly, with an expression he couldn't immediately identify.

"I know that you nearly died four years ago, when the aliens invaded New York. I know that you've been throwing money at anything that potentially could help defend the planet in the future, superhuman and otherwise. I know you've had several very public losses in the past few weeks, and a significant personal one. I know the look of a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. And I know you were having an anxiety attack out here, just a few minutes ago. You haven't been sleeping, and when you do, you have nightmares of the aliens returning, or something even worse that you haven't figured out yet. You're still trying to rationalize and explain what you saw up there –" she gestured towards the stars "- and it's driving you crazy that you can't yet. You spent millions on a therapy program rather than just talking with a person because you're more comfortable working with machines than opening up to people." There was no judgement in her tone, just a recitation of facts that she seemed quite sure of. "I know that you don't ask for help, which is why I'm offering. It isn't anything to be ashamed of. It doesn't mean anything other than that the man in the suit is still human. But it's not something you can make go away by throwing money and tech at it." For once, Tony found himself without a snappy comeback.

"Who the hell are you?" he mumbled under his breath. She smiled at him and gave a small curtsey.

"Just a therapist, Mr. Stark. Let me know if you are interested… in either offer." Tony watched her leave, then picked up his glass from where he had left it on the balustrade. He started to take a drink, but then paused as he noticed the business card that had been slipped underneath it. Shaking his head, he considered it for a long moment before he slid it into his pocket.

It wasn't until hours later, when he was back at home in his lab, that he finally placed the woman's expression. Tony Stark was used to eyerolls and annoyance, he was used to tolerant smiles, exasperation or even adoration. Lately, he could also add anger and betrayal to that list, along with concern and worry, mostly from Rhodey. But it had been a long time since anyone had looked at Tony with compassion.