I'm just saying it now, I haven't seen Infinity War yet. I'm going to see it Friday, so please don't put any spoilers in your review. Thank you. :)

Disclaimer (and this is the only one you're getting): I do not own the Avengers, Captain America, Iron Man, or any other recognizable characters and/or properties contained within. All rights go to Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios, and any other interested third party (I don't think I could name them all). This work (thus far) contains lines from the films Iron Man (2008), and Captain America: The First Avenger (2011). All credit for those lines go to Mark Fergus, Hawk Otsby, Art Markum and Matt Holloway, and Christopher Markum and Stephen McFreely respectively. This work also contains lines from New Avengers #14 by Brian Michael Bendis, and plot points taken from Captain America: Man Out of Time by Mark Waid. All credit for those lines go to each of the authors respectively.

The title of this fic comes from the Green Day song "Still Breathing". All credit goes to Billy Joe Armstrong, Green Day, Richard Parkhouse, Adam Slack, Luke Spiller, George Tizzard, and Joshua Wilkinson.

Cover image edited by MewWinx96 in Adobe Photoshop CC. All likenesses belong to each of the credited actors/actresses respectively.

This fic, while rated T, does contain some less-than-appealing language at times, have a few intense scenes, and (perhaps most controversially) depicts relationships that do not comply with cannon and some people might have an ideological, moral, or otherwise bigoted opinion about. If you do not like the Steve/Tony pairing or are turned off by the other disclaimers, please do not read this fic. Death threats will be taken seriously.

UPDATE 2/16/20: I do not consent to my works being hosted on any unofficial app, particularly ones with ad revenue and subscription services. You should only be able to read this on FFN and AO3. Nowhere else. If you see my stories being hosted on a third-party application, report it to iTunes or the Google Play Store immediately.

Friday, January 8th, 1999

His voice had never sounded so cold, but that was unsurprising. Having what was most precious taken away often did that to people.

"Give me my children back now." His demands fell on deaf ears as the social worker unflinchingly stood her ground.

"Mr. Nezchevic-"

"Knežević." Irritation played out clearly on both their faces.

"Knežević," she amended. "I'm sorry but this is clearly not a suitable home for two children to be living in."

"How is this not a suitable home?" Knežević gestured to the rather spacious ranch-style house behind him. "Everything's clean, they have their own rooms, they're always fed and clothed, I make sure Audrey gets to school on time and does her homework…"

"According to your neighbors, you've been running a meth lab out of your basement." Knežević was stunned at both the accusation and the utter lack of emotion on the woman's face as she made it.

"Meth lab?" He gawked. "That's not a meth lab! That is my research! My life's work! You can't just dismiss it as-"

"Regardless of what it is or is not, it still presents a hazard to the well being of your daughters." Knežević scoffed at that.

"Audrey and Stephanie aren't allowed down there," he defended. "The door is always locked, and even if they did manage to get around that, all the hazardous materials are stored up high in a locked cabinet. It's perfectly safe."

"Really?" The woman sounded incredulous. It was the first emotion he heard come out of her voice. "Is that why the fire department has been called to put out your 'research' three times in a two-week span?"

"The girls weren't home at the time!" Desperation was starting to sink in. "Besides, the explosions were contained to the basement. I made sure of it." He then rolled up his sleeves to reveal several severe-looking burns on his hands and arms. The social worker just kept the same cold expression on her face.

"That, sir," she said. "That is just more proof to me that this is an unfit environment for these children." It took all the strength Knežević had not to smack that vaguely smug look off her face. However, she kept talking. "I also think that's more evidence for the officer behind you to give to the district attorney." Knežević looked confused for a second before he felt a pair of strong hands grab his arms and slip the cold metal of the handcuffs around his wrists.

"You have the right to remain silent…" Knežević tugged at the cuffs that ensnared his wrists as the officer led him to the back of a police cruiser. The entire time he begged for the officer, the social worker, anyone to understand. However, it was futile. The last thing he saw before the cruiser pulled away was the frightened faces of his daughters as the social worker led them into her car.

Friday, July 30th, 2010

All things considered, twelve and a half years in prison for possession of explosive materials and child endangerment was not a bad deal. Knežević was lucky the jury took pity on him. Not only had he just lost his wife months before, but he was also laid off from his job around the same time. Money was tight and with a lack of job opportunities in sight, Knežević used the last of his funds to create his own make-shift chemistry set in hopes of discovering a new chemical compound, finding a use for it, and selling it on the international market, thereby leaving his family financially secure for life.

His idea was a good one, and it might have worked, too, if he only had a knowledge of chemistry beyond what he could vaguely remember learning in high school. As a result, his arms were badly burnt, he was locked away in a federal penitentiary, and he missed the most important years of his young daughters' lives. That was the worst part about all of this. His daughters – who were only five and one years old at the time of his arrest – had to grow up without either one of their parents was just plain unfair. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just trying to provide a life for his girls, but instead, they were snatched away from him.

The first thing he did once he was released from prison was call his wife's sister, who was granted custody of his daughters after he was arrested. He leaned back against the glass of the phone booth as he listened to the seemingly endless ringing of the line as his call connected and hoped that she hadn't changed her number in the past few years.

"Hello?" The woman's voice on the other end of the line sounded familiar, but Knežević had to be sure.

"Hello," he said. "Is this Lorraine Wilburn?"

"Speaking." Knežević let out an internal sigh of relief at the confirmation. "Who is this?"

"Lorraine, this is Vasyl," he said. "I know it's been awhile since I last called but I just got out of prison and I was hoping that I could come over to see the girls.

Lorraine was silent for a long moment before finally coming out with a small, shocked "what?"

"I'm out of prison," he tried explaining again. "Legally out of prison. I didn't escape or anything crazy like that. I served my full sentence and got out fair and square."

"Shit," he heard Lorraine mutter on the other end of the line. "I thought that wasn't until next week."

"Right…" he said. "So would it be alright if I came over?"

"Um," she hesitated. "Now's not the best time…"

"Okay then," he said. "No problem. I understand. Would tomorrow be better or sometime next week? I'm sorry, I'm just anxious to see the girls again."

"No, I mean, I don't think you should come over at all." Everything seemed to freeze around Knežević.

"What are you saying?" His voice was as cold as it was the day he confronted that social worker in the yard.

"I'm saying that I don't think it would be best for the girls to see you right now." His grip on the phone tightened.

"Why not?" He had to know. He had to know why this woman was daring to keep his children away from him.

"It's just that…" Lorraine started. "Well, they're both already so well-adjusted. Audrey's starting her senior year soon, she's thinking about college, and Stephanie has her own friends and problems as well, but they're happy. Things are good. I don't want you to come in here and mess that up."

"How would I mess things up?" The question was meant to be rhetorical, but Lorraine just felt the need to answer it.

"Let me ask you, do you have a job?" Knežević felt a nervous twinge in the pit of his stomach.

"No," he said. "Like I said, I just got out…"

"Do you have a stable place of living?"

"No."

"Do you have anything going for you? Anything at all?" He brightened up at that question.

"Yes," he almost cheered. "I have this new formula I've been working on…"

"Oh for goodness sake, Vasyl," Lorraine practically groaned. "That's exactly what got you put into prison in the first place!"

"No, but this time it's different." He was essentially pleading at this point. "I've actually been looking into this stuff. I know what I'm doing now and I promise I won't put the girls in any danger."

"Isn't that what you said when Joyce died?" Knežević had nothing to say to that. "Exactly. I'm not going to let you put those girls in danger again. I'm sorry, but you can't see them." The floor seemed to drop out from under him just then.

"Can I…" His voice shook as the realization of defeat sunk in. "Can I at least talk to them?"

"No," Lorraine said. "I don't think that would be a good idea either." Knežević was left physically shaking from that blow.

"Alright then," he said. He heard Lorraine say something resembling "alright," before he slammed the phone against the receiver.

Slumping to the floor, Knežević sat there for a good long while, just sobbing over the loss of his girls. Lorraine wasn't going to let him see them, and that was that. He'd try calling again, but he was certain that next time, Lorraine would just call the cops. He didn't have any money for a lawyer. He didn't even have money for dinner or an apartment. How was he going to fight a custody battle when he didn't even have a single dime to his name?

That's when his mind drifted to the neatly folded pieces of paper in his pocket. While he had no access to any hazardous chemicals from behind bars, he did have access to several books on the subject and he read every single one he could get his hands on as many times as he could. He took notes and studied them almost religiously. He now knew exactly how certain chemicals reacted with each other and how; which ones ended in good results and which ones ended in a horrific explosion. Through his research, he believed to have discovered a new type of chemical compound not yet being utilized for any known purpose. It was all right there in those notes. He just needed proof that this compound was viable in practice, not just theory.

Getting up off the ground, Knežević know knew what he needed to do. He needed to somehow get access to the necessary chemical elements to create this new compound, produce it, and make millions selling his creation. This time, he was certain that it would all work out in his favor.

Thursday, August 5th, 2010

Getting access to the chemicals he needed was going to be a lot harder than Knežević initially thought. For one thing, some of the chemicals that he needed access to were rather rare and pricey. For another, none of the labs he submitted applications to had contacted him. (Which was a rather smart move on their part given that he had no permanent address and no degrees or credentials to speak of in the field of chemistry whatsoever.) So, in the meantime, he was stuck in a dead-end job working behind the bar at one of the less than reputable establishments in town. It might not have been the best job he could have gotten, but the manager didn't really seem to ask questions. If Knežević could get the job done didn't come in one day and go completely postal, shooting up the place, then the manager couldn't have cared less.

Although he had only been working there for less than a week, it was rather easy for Knežević to fall into a routine. That routine being standing there from 4 PM to 2 AM every day and glaring at the television set as it changed from the news to a sports game to more news to the late night talk shows and back to finish off the night with yet another dose of news. Occasionally he'd have to hand a customer or two a beer, but other than that, things were usually quiet. At one point he questioned whether this bar was a front for something but decided that it probably wasn't a good idea to think about that too much. They hadn't asked questions, so neither should he.

He was about halfway through another boring, dismal night when a woman walked in. She looked no older than twenty and had her hair cut in a short, brown bob. Knežević quickly concluded that she had already had quite a bit to drink, considering she was deliriously giggling and very uncoordinated. He waited a few minutes for her to manage to get up onto her barstool before going over to take her order.

"What'll it be?"

"Um…" she giggled. Even though she was beyond drunk, the distinct tones of either an English or Australian accent marked her voice. "I think I'll have a vodka martini with a twist."

"Sorry, can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Read the menu." Knežević gestured to the blackboard behind him that had the drink options listed (beer, light beer, brown tap water) and – in bright neon pink no less – the capitalized statement of NO MIXED DRINKS! The girl scoffed at that.

"No mixed drinks," she half-laughed in disbelief. "What kind of bar doesn't serve mixed drinks?"

"The kind that hired a bartender who has no idea how to make them," he deadpanned.

"Alright then," she said. "What can I order?"

"Beer." She laughed again. It was starting to get on his nerves. "That's all that you have?"

"It's all that we have here that I think you want," he said. "If you don't like it, the exit's that way."

"Alright then," she said. "I'll have a beer."

"Beer it is then." Knežvić got her a beer from the fridge, then went back to scrubbing the same spot on the rough wood of the bar while he listened to whatever drivel the station decided to put on before the news.

The next half hour went by uneventfully. No one came in, no one left. The dullness of it all threatened to put Knežvić to sleep. In fact, he was certain that the girl had fallen asleep at the bar and was about to go shake her awake and throw her out when he heard a sudden bark of laughter come from her.

"Oh my God," she laughed. "Look at that! I'm on the tele!"

Knežvić was confused by that until he looked up at the TV and saw that it had switched to the news. The reporter – who was identified as Jessa Abello by the news banner underneath her – stood in front of a Jared's Galleria of Jewelry that was surrounded by the flashing lights of police cars. He had to do a double take as his eyes flashed over to the laughing girl, then back to the TV.

"…Police are reporting that almost twenty-four thousand dollars' worth of gold and diamond jewelry, along with some additional four-thousand dollars in cash was stolen from this store just hours ago." The screen then switched over to the view of an empty vault. "Nothing was actually stolen from the show-room floor, but the contents of this vault were raided. The store's manager has stated that only employees knew where the vault was located. Police are considering the option that the suspect they're looking for might be a former employee…"

Knežević tuned his attention back to the girl sitting at the end of the bar, who at this point had ceased her hysterical laughter and went back to nursing her beer.

"You," he said as he approached her. "You did that?"

"Yep," she said, popping the "p". "Wasn't even that hard."

"How?" A wicked smirk appeared on the girl's face.

"A magician never reveals her secrets." The smirk remained on her face as she drank down the last of her beer.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" The smirk didn't leave the girl's face as she reached into the pocket of her jean shorts and pulled out what looked to be a golden, diamond-encrusted necklace. "Holy shit!" He took the necklace from her and examined it to ensure it was real. As far as he could tell, it was.

"I know," she said. "Beautiful right? That thing will surely fetch a pretty penny on the black market." She then gently took the necklace back from him and stuffed it back into the pocket of her shorts. "Hey, would you mind grabbing me another one of these? I'm kind of in a celebrating mood."

"No problem." Kneževic then went back to the fridge to retrieve another beer.

During the time it took him to walk to the fridge and back, an idea sparked in his mind, one that he hoped would turn things around for him. A wide grin appeared on his face as he placed the beer down in front of her. The girl smiled, thanked him, then took a nice long pull from the bottle.

"What's your name?" he asked once the girl had swallowed her drink.

"Oswin." She wiped the remaining beer off her lips with the back of her hand.

"Oswin," he repeated. "That's a strange name."

"It's because I always win." She smirked at that.

"Okay, Oswin," he said. "I take it you do stuff like that…" He gestured over to the TV, which had now changed to a weather report. "…often."

"Report the weather?" Knežević's palm met his face. It was obvious she was incredibly intoxicated – what person in their right mind would admit to grand larceny to a total stranger unless they had a few – but at this point, it was more annoying than entertaining. "Oh! You mean the robbery thing!"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm talking about the robbery thing."

"Yeah," she said. "I've only been hitting up jewelry stores and banks for a few months, but I've been stealing ever since I was a little girl. I guess you can say I'm a bit of a kleptomaniac."

"Do you think you'd be able to rob a place like a lab or something?" He had to know. This girl could be the key to getting to see his girls again and providing them the life they deserved.

"Of course." She waved it off like it was nothing. "Easy as pie! Why? Are you offering me a job or something?"

"That's exactly what I'm offering you," he said. "My name is Vasyl Knežević and I would like to employ your services, Miss Oswin." He held out his hand for her to shake.

"Uh, just Oswin," she said, taking his hand.

"Oswin, then," he amended.

"So, how much are you going to pay me and what do you want me to steal?" A wicked grin spread across his face.

"We can discuss those details later," he said. "But, first thing's first, do you happen to have your own house or apartment or something?"

Friday, August 6th, 2010

Oswin awoke to the bright glare of the sun shining on her face. She could have sworn she closed the blinds the night before. Sitting up, her head began to thump, and she let out an audible groan.

How much did I have to drink last night? She thought as she staggered out of bed and into the living room. When she reached the doorway, she froze, having noticed the strange Asian man asleep on her couch. She panicked for a second before realizing she still had all the clothes on that she had been wearing the night before and her guest was fully clothed as well. At least she could scratch "awkward breakfast with a one-night stand" off her list of potential worries.

She had a kettle brewing on the stove and was patiently waiting for her bagel to pop out of the toaster when her guest finally stirred. She watched as the older man sat up on the couch and stretched out.

"Well, it's nice to see that you've decided to rejoin the land of the living," she remarked. "I thought you were going to stay asleep forever." Her bagel then popped up and she turned her attention to transferring the breakfast treat from the toaster to her plate without burning herself.

"Good morning to you, too." He obviously wasn't very enthusiastic upon waking. "Do you have a map and a phone book I can borrow."

"Uh, I don't know about the map," Oswin said. "But if you need to give the taxi service directions, we're on South Grevillea Avenue in Lennox."

"No, I don't need a taxi service," he said. "I need to find the closest lab or chemical production facility to here."

"Chemical production?" It took a second, but it all came back to her. "Oh, this is about that job you want me to do. I'm sorry. Had a bit too much to drink last night."

"Understandable," he said. "So where's the phone book?"

"Under the coffee table, but I think this…" Oswin went across the room to fetch her laptop off the dining table. "Would be a lot faster." The man stared at the small machine as she held it out to him.

"I've been in prison for twelve years." He said. "I don't know how to use that." While Oswin rolled her eyes, the kettle started whistling in the kitchen.

"I'll do it in a minute," she said. "Just let me have a cuppa before I start."

Once she had her tea and finished her bagel, Oswin sat down next to the man and opened her laptop. Quickly finding her way to Google, she turned the screen to the man next to her, so he could see what she was doing.

"Alright this," she gestured towards the screen. "…Is Google. All you have to do is type whatever you want to know into this box," she pointed at the search bar in the middle of the screen. "Then hit the 'search' button," she pointed over to the little grey button below the search bar. "And the computer will tell you whatever it is you want to know. For example," she gestured over to the TV which she had flipped on while eating her breakfast. "if I type 'Good Morning America' into this box and hit search," she did exactly that causing the page to change from the simple, blank home screen to a list of results from across the web. "It will give me all sorts of information about the show; what time it's on, who's in it, etc."

"Can you search for people using that?" That wouldn't have been the first question Oswin would have asked, but she just decided to brush it off.

"Of course," Oswin said. "If you search for someone online, you can find their social media profiles, bank records, public documents…"

"Can you type Audrey Knežević into that thing?" Oswin raised an eyebrow to that.

"Depends," she said. "Who is that?"

"My daughter," Knežvić clarified. "I haven't seen her in so long. Do you think I could find a picture of her if I searched?"

"Oh you most certainly could," Oswin said. "But I think it's best if we just stayed focused on the task at hand."

"Right," Knežević said. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," she said. "So, what is it that you wanted to find? Some sort of chemical plant?"

"Chemical plant, industrial complex, basically any sort of lab that would have access to rare and hazardous chemicals."

"Okay." Oswin began typing her search into the engine. "Chemical labs near Lennox, CA." The page instantly changed and displayed results on screen. She quickly skimmed the list before reading it aloud. "There's West Manufacturing in Athens, Neilson-Edelman Corporation in Compton, Stark Industries in Hawthorne…"

"Hawthorne," Knežević repeated. "Is that close to here?"

"Uh, yeah…" Oswin tried to think. "I think it's just one exit down on the motorway. Why?"

"It's perfect," Knežević said, taking the computer from her. "What happens if I click this bold, blue…"

"I'll take you to the Stark Industries homepage," she said. "Why what is it that you're looking for."

"Do you think they have what chemicals they have in stock listed?"

"No," Oswin shook her head. "That'd be like a bank posting exactly how much money they have in the vault on the front door."

"Damn," Knežević stroked the dark stubble that lined the area around his mouth. "Guess we'll just have to go in and hope for the best."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about robbing Stark Industries." Oswin's eyes went wide. "Not for money or anything like that. I just need to 'borrow' some of the chemicals they have inside for a little bit."

"Have you gone completely mental?" she questioned.

"No, I haven't," Knežević asserted. "Everyone else has. That's why I need to do this. If I can create this formula…" He pulled a series of neatly folded papers out of his pants pocket. "…Then hopefully I can sell it and have the funds to get back on my feet."

"What is it?" Oswin tried to take the papers from him, but Knežević quickly snatched them back and slid them back into his pants pocket.

"Don't know yet," Knežević said. "In theory, it's a permeant freezing solution, but I haven't yet gotten the opportunity to see the chemicals react in practice. If you get these chemicals for me, I'll be able to find a practical use for it and market it on an international scale."

"Okay," Oswin says. "Say I get these chemicals for you. What then? How are you going to pay me?"

"That's the best part," Knežević said. "You'll be my business partner. We'll go fifty-fifty on the profits, but fifty-fifty is still potentially hundreds of millions of dollars."

"Hundreds of millions of dollars…" Oswin drifted off for a second, imagining everything that she'd be able to do with that kind of money. However, she couldn't let herself get carried away. Forcing herself to come back to reality, she said: "and if this ends up failing?"

"You're free to raid my cardboard box on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway." Oswin couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Alright," she said. "But are you sure robbing Stark Industries is a good idea? By doing that, we'd essentially be asking for Iron Man to come and kick our asses. You do know about Iron Man, right?"

"Of course, I know about Iron Man," Knežević said. "We might not have had computers in prison, but we certainly had access to a TV. I wouldn't worry about him, though." Knežević gestured over to the TV and Oswin turned her head to see Tony Stark being interviewed by some overly bubbly blonde. The banner beneath them both read Stark Breaking Ground on New Project. "Stark's all the way in New York City. If we strike as fast as possible and as soon as possible, we can probably get in and out before Stark even knows what hit him."

"Wow," Oswin said. "You sound pretty overconfident making that declaration."

"I'm not overconfident," Knežević said. "I just have nothing else to lose."

Yeah, I know you have to go through all of this bull with the OCs, but Tony's gonna be in the next chapter! (Which is coming out Friday!) So yeah, you have that to look forward to! I have to say, though, I am definitely nervous about uploading this fic. I know not everybody likes this pairing (for whatever reasons they have) and I'm a little worried that I'm going to get some hate sent my way (but hopefully nothing worse than that) and I'm also posting in a much larger fandom than I have before, so I'm definitely a little anxious.

I have an extended author's note going up on my blog (I have the address typed out on my profile, so please check there.) so be sure to check it out there. Also, follow me on Twitter, Tumblr, and DeviantART. I haven't been on the first two in a few days because, once again, I'm trying to avoid Infinity War spoilers, but I'll be back once I've seen the movie on Friday! This fic is also being uploaded to AO3, so be sure to follow me there as well. I use the same username on all of those sites. Also if you liked my writing so far and you like the Boondock Saints, feel free to check out my other fic Better to Be Fake and Happy.

Remember kids, it's an excellent idea to steal from a multi-million dollar corporation that's run by a superhero. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

Originally uploaded to FFN on 5/2/18.