"They're arguing again, Pep," he said, the smallest bit of desperation in his voice. Only those who knew him very well would be able to hear it. Which meant that meant only she could.

"We'll be going back to school soon, Tony. Then you won't have to worry about that anymore," Pepper said, just a face on his monitor.

She was already at their boarding school, having stayed the summer. That was why he had set up a private chat link, so they wouldn't be completely alone while he returned home to his family's mansion in Los Angeles. They were each other's only real friends. Everyone else were only nice to them was because of the influence and the money that their families held.

"Yes, I will. It never ends," he said, sounding resigned. She was the only one he'd shown the scars on his back. She was the one who had bought him makeup to cover his bruises, and to comfort him when he broke down. Or the one he vented to when he heard his parents fighting, like tonight.

"Maybe, but we'll see each other again. That has to be something," she said, wanting to cheer him up, even if sometimes she felt like was fumbling through the darkness when it came to helping him. She didn't get along with her parents either, but her family was nowhere near as dysfunctional as Tony's family was.

"Oh, honey, that's everything." He heard footsteps in the hallway and sighed. "I have to go. Jarvis is going to come check on me, and Howard technically grounded me, so I'm not supposed to talk to you as punishment."

"Okay. Bye, Tony. Call me soon."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, snapping a salute. She giggled, making him grin. "Bye, Pepper."

He shut down the video chat and turned off the screen. Just in time for Jarvis, Howard's butler and Tony's unofficial nanny, to open the door. All he saw was Tony working on his robot, Dum-E. Jarvis knew his young master well enough to guess he had been up to something mere moments before his arrival, but with the fresh bruise blossoming on the boy's cheekbone, he decided not to say anything. He stayed in the doorway as he delivered the message Howard had sent him with.

"Your father wanted me to tell you that he and your mother will be gone for three days," Jarvis said.

Tony twisted his screwdriver with a little unnecessary force. For being thirteen, he was unusually strong and large from working in his garage and labs. He didn't bother look up from his robot.

"Great. I'm to stay here and wait patiently for their return like a good boy, right?" he asked, adding a bitter laugh on to the end. "You can go, J. You're going with them. Leaving me all alone. Again."

"We'll return soon, sir," the butler said, wanting to comfort the boy who was like a son to him, but knowing he couldn't. Jarvis had to keep his distance from Tony, as Howard believed his son was already too coddled.

Tony didn't reply. Jarvis began leaving the room, but not without saying, "Goodnight, sir."

Tony worked on his robot for a bit longer. He heard the car pull away some time later. No doubt Jarvis was driving his parents to some fancy party or meeting or whatever crap they attended all the time. He was more familiar with the mansion being empty than full. When it got late at night, and he could hear Pepper mentally chastising him for staying up, he finally slipped into his bed and fell asleep.

A small noise woke him up. Tony's room was still dark, but he knew he wasn't alone. His brain struggled to come up with a plan, but not in time. A foul-smelling rag was pressed roughly over his nose and mouth. He tried to struggle, to get out of bed, but someone was holding him down. A person in a black ski mask was holding the cloth to his mouth, causing his eyes to grow heavy and his breathing to become labored. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath, and there was no one in the whole mansion who could come even if he had been able to scream. His eyes closed.

Tony jolted awake when a musty bag was yanked off his face. In the minute it took for his eyes to focus, he felt dried blood coating his upper lip, and bruises on his wrist forming from the rope binding his hands. He was tied to a chair, by the hands, middle, and ankles. Slowly, the room came into focus. Someone was holding him by his hair, and there were more people surrounding him on either side with guns. One man was shining a spotlight directly at him, disorientating him. Another man was sitting in front of him, filming him. The man holding his hair was speaking English, but it took another minute before Tony could comprehend what he was saying.

"Howard Stark," the man said in a thick accent. Middle Eastern. Tony couldn't place it right now, not with every inch of his body hurting, and the effects of whatever they'd knocked him out with starting to wear off. "We have your son, Anthony Stark, right here. We demand retribution for the crimes you have committed against the Ten Rings. Either you pay, or we kill your son. The choice is yours."

Tony became aware of a small screen next to the camera. It showed his father in his study, hands steepled, his face expressionless. Nothing made sense. What was happening? Why wasn't his brain working? Everything felt sluggish and disconnected. It was when he tried to ask his father a question that he realized there was a gag in his mouth, muffling his words. Someone slapped him for making the small, indecipherable noise. He barely felt it. Everything already hurt so much, and he could only focus on small bits at a time.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists," Howard said, looking every bit the cold businessman Tony knew him to be. He could have been staring down a CEO and not his bound and gagged son for all the emotion he was showing.

"Stark, it is negotiate, or your only son and heir dies," the man said as mercilessly as his father had spoken. Tony guessed he was the leader of these people, but the thought fled his mind as the man yanked his hair.

"The United States does not negotiate with terrorists, even for hostages."

"Think wisely about your next words, Stark."

"No deal."

Some of the terrorists began murmuring, but the leader seemed unperturbed. A tank of freezing water was placed in front of Tony. The grip on his hair tightened and Tony's eyes screwed up in pain, tears leaking out, mingling with the dried blood. His face was lowered towards the water. The freezing droplets splashed on his face.

"We warned you, Stark," the man said, then forced Tony's head into the tub. He tried to hold his breath, but it was impossible. Water flooded his lungs and burned. He knew he was drowning. He thought they were going to kill him right then and there, but they pulled him up right when he started to believe his lungs would burst. The gag was ripped out of his mouth so he could vomit water and bile all over himself. As soon as he got a breath of air, his head was shoved back under. Again. And again. A cycle of pain and brief bliss, which made it all the more painful.

"What do you say now, Stark?" the man jeered at the screen. Tony was still vomiting after his latest drowning, unable to so much as think.

"No deal."

"You have two weeks, and then you must say goodbye to your son. We'll be in contact."

The line clicked dead. The camera was turned off. Tony's lanky body was tossed into a cell. He was given a crust of bread and a shot of water. He couldn't bear to drink, and when he tried to eat the crust his body tossed it back up. He fell asleep on the hard rock floor of his cell, murmuring Pepper's name in his fitful sleep.

The next day it was the same thing. The room, the chair, the camera, and the water. Drowning in some dusty cave, far away from any ocean. He could hear the ocean from his room in L.A. That had been happening a lot. Randoms tidbits about what had been his life coming back to him, especially things he had never paid much attention to before. Like the sound of the ocean, the color of Pepper's hair in the sun, and the taste of cheeseburgers.

"What do you say now, Stark?"

"No deal. I will not cooperate with terrorists," Howard repeated. His same answer, day after day.

A foot struck Tony's stomach. He screamed in pain. Howard's face didn't even twitch on the screen. He might as well have been one of the machines he'd invented.

"No deal," he repeated. A foot stomped on Tony's hand with its hard metal toe and snapped more bones in the boy's hand than he'd known he had. He couldn't even scream. His vision blacked out, distorting the image of his mangled fingers.

The camera was turned off. Tony was returned to his cell. The same thing the next day, and the next. After a week Tony knew two things. One: his father was not going to save him, through the ransom or some elaborate rescue. Two: the terrorists would kill him unless he gave them a reason not to. And it would have to be a damn good reason, something they couldn't refuse, something that would keep him alive while he found a way to save himself.

The two weeks passed. On that last day, Howard looked at his son for the first time. All he said was, "Stark men don't cry." Then he hung up. Hung up as the Ten Rings held a gun, a gun Howard had designed, to Tony's head.

"Say night-night, little Stark," the man hissed in his ear.

"Wait!" he cried desperately. "I have a deal to make!"

They laughed.

"We'll let you die on your feet. That's more than a Stark deserves!"

"I can make you weapons!"

Silence fell. Tony was grabbed by his hair, coarse and dirty, and yanked roughly to face the leader for the first time. He was in too much pain to notice.

"I'll kill you myself!" the man declared, cocking his gun.

"I'm serious! I design weapons for my father, I can easily make more for you! Better weapons than the ones you already have!" Tony promised, trying to sound convincing, even though his voice was hoarse from constant screaming. "You already have enough materials that I could make you a Jericho missile!"

The barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead, and a cold bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "Tell me what a Jericho missile is," the man commanded.

"It's the most powerful weapon created by Stark Industries yet. Not even the US government has one! Give me a place to work and a bit of time, and I can make one for you! No one else knows the blueprints, except me, I haven't written it down yet."

The leader looked thoughtful. His subordinates were looking at each other, clearly unsure where this was heading. They had signed up to torture and then kill some rich American brat. Making deals with hostages, much less thirteen year olds, was unheard of. Yet they had ended up in this situation.

"Fine, Stark," the man said finally, removing the gun, but Tony didn't relax yet. "We'll provide you with what you need. But if you try and turn against us, we'll kill you. Your daddy already thinks you're dead anyways. No one's coming to save you."

"Deal. I'm going to need some help, an assistant or something."

The man grimaced. Through gritted teeth, he said, "Fine."

"Ah, you must be my assistant!" Tony said as a thin man was led into the large cavern that was being outfitted with his desired materials. "Great! We have got a lot of work to do!"

"You're Anthony Stark," the man said in a mixed accent. He had probably been educated in the West.

"Yes, I am. I prefer to be called Tony. How do you…?" Tony asked, somewhat disconcerted. He wasn't used to getting recognized except when he was with his father.

"Oh, everyone knows the Stark's over here. They are the biggest celebrity we have. Stark is written on everything. The guns, the grenades, the missiles…," the man said, holding out his hand. "I'm Yinsen."

"I don't actually do the hand shake thing," Tony said, patting him on the shoulder instead and walking past him to see that a sensitive bit of equipment he'd requested was being handled right. "Are you any good at electronics or mechanics, Yinsen?"

"Not much, but I'm sure I'll be able to help you with whatever you need."

Tony held up his hands, which were wrapped in bandages from all the beatings he'd endured. They were bruised, bloody, and some of them were broken. No good for the finer workings of building his grand plan. "I mostly need a steady pair of hands and someone who can follow instructions."

"That," Yinsen said, smiling the smallest bit, "is something I can do, Tony."

"You're quiet today, Tony," Yinsen remarked. He was sitting on a crate near where Tony was soldering some wires together. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," the teen said automatically.

"Nothing? I doubt that. Someone with a mind like yours is always thinking of something. Something worthwhile. Most men cannot claim the same."

Tony didn't answer. They'd been working almost nonstop for two weeks now. Tony's hands were beginning to heal, with a little help from Yinsen, who had some medical experience. Yinsen was not actually sure what they were building, since Tony had neglected to tell him. But the man trusted the young genius enough to follow his lead.

"I've been thinking about my family," Yinsen said, almost to himself, but he knew Tony was listening. The teen always slowed down whatever he was doing when he was listening to someone. "I miss then quite a bit. And my friends and neighbors. But I'm certain I'll see them again." Tony snorted. Yinsen grinned, not disturbed by the teen's attitude. "You doubt me, Mr. Stark."

"Don't call me that." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Ah. Some bad blood in your family. You don't get along with your father. You don't want to be known by his name."

"My father is why I'm in this hellhole and not with Pepper." Shit.

"Who is Pepper?" the man asked with a broad grin this time.

Tony sighed, raking his hand through his hair and inadvertently smearing grease in it. He didn't seem to notice or care. He had been covered in so much blood and dust lately that grease probably felt no different from the rest. He turned around to face Yinsen.

"She's my best friend. She's back home. And she probably thinks I'm dead, so I need to get back because I need her and she needs me," Tony stated. Like it was a universal truth that they went hand-in-hand. He stared down at the tangle of wires. "Which is why I need this to work."

"What to work?" Yinsen asked curiously.

In response, Tony rearranged the blueprints and flicked on the table light. Yinsen approached, cleaning the lenses of his glasses. With the papers illuminated from below, it became clear. Tony's master plan. It was a suit of armor, but unlike any made before.

"You are a genius, Tony. It's a shame you choose to use your talents to create weapons of war. I can hardly imagine all the good you can do for the world."

Tony turned off the light. "I just want to get back to Pepper."

"I know. But you could do so much more than that."

Yinsen's dead, Yinsen's dead, I didn't save him, Yinsen's dead. Tony's thoughts were stuck on a loop, the man who had helped him through the long months in captivity was dead. He had failed him. Tony's ratty clothes were covered in blood, and he wasn't sure if it was his own, Yinsen's, or all the terrorists' he'd killed in retribution for Yinsen. His jacket was also singed from the large explosion he'd caused when torching their ammunition supply on his way out. Now he was far away from that miserable cave, because he'd gotten out. He'd done it. Now he just had to get lucky.

He was in the middle of nowhere, and he needed to find help. There was no way he could drag his armor with him, so he popped out the central power unit and slipped it into his pocket, leaving the rest. He wrapped the scrap of cloth that had been his jacket around his head to block out the merciless sun and wandered through the desert. He didn't know which way to head, so he started walking and kept going. He would have to hit civilization, or a patrol route, or a war zone, eventually. He had to leave the armor behind. He couldn't lug it with him, it was too heavy. The only thing he'd taken was the blue contraption that had powered the suit, sunken in the center of the chest plate.

Then the miracle came. An armored transport came trundling his way. He staggered to his feet and waved it down, laughing and crying hysterically. It was a US transport. Those were American soldiers running over to him, and American accents that were asking him a million questions that he couldn't comprehend. Before he could even attempt to answer them, they brought him into the truck.

"Are you okay? Do you need medical help?" a young woman was asking him. Her strawberry blonde hair was peeking out of her collar. It reminded him of Pepper. Oh, god, Pepper. He hadn't heard her voice in three months and five days. If he hadn't been sitting he might have collapsed as he realized that he would see her soon.

"No, no, I need a radio, please, I need a long distance radio," Tony begged, grabbing the soldier's arm.

"American, huh? How'd you end up here?" the soldier asked. "Why were you out in the desert alone? It's not safe out there, kid."

Tony choked on his sob. It sure wasn't safe. "My name is Anthony Stark, and I need a long distance radio, please."

"Stark? The Stark kid? I heard you died months ago back in the States, what's this about?" the soldier asked suspiciously.

"I swear, my name is Anthony Stark and I need—"

He never got a chance to finish that sentence. There was a giant explosion and the transport flipped over. Tony's life flashed before his eyes, and then there was a ringing. Blood trickled down his ear. He struggled out of his hefty seat belt and scrambled away as he felt flesh touch him. The strawberry haired soldier. She was dead. She'd struck her head when they flipped. Not thinking, he yanked open the door and stumbled out, his knees hitting the hard, sandy rock. A few more soldiers were stumbling out, like him, hefting their guns and returning fire at the small group that had attacked them. Tony turned and ran, trying to hide on the other side of the transport.

A missile landed right next to him. He only had enough time to see that it read Stark Industries before it exploded.

He felt the shrapnel tear through his chest. He gasped for breath. His vision was going blurry, but he saw people kneeling above him, their mouths moving. Then he slipped away.

Tony jolted awake, gasping for air. He sat up, attempting to rip the tubed and wires in his body out, but suddenly hands were pinning him down. He thrashed, but stopped as a burning pain tore through him. He panted for breath, his hand going to his chest. He froze as he felt a foreign, metal object embedded in the center of his chest. He looked up in horror at the people before him.

"What have you done to me?" he asked shakily.

"You were going to die, Mr. Stark," a man said, entering the room with a tall female trailing behind him. "Shrapnel was heading straight for your heart. They had to perform an emergency operation to save your life. The result...well, the result is only temporary. I already have people working on alternatives."

He looked up at the man. He was an older guy, a government worker based on his practical suit and posture. He seemed oddly familiar. "I know you," Tony said, making it sound like an accusation.

"I'm surprised you remember," the man said calmly, sitting down near the bed the teen was in. "You were pretty young. Maybe five or six. We weren't introduced. I'm Agent Phil Coulson. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What are you doing here?" Tony demanded. He knew of S.H.I.E.L.D. They were an intelligence organization. What did they want with him?

"You're Howard's son, aren't you? You warrant some special attention. Especially since you're supposed to be dead."

One of Howard's friends. Of course. Tony decided to ignore the agent. He'd never liked his father's friends. They were all alcoholics like Howard himself, who talked business all the time. This one would be no different than the others. Instead Tony focused on the metal implant in his chest cavity, which appeared to be hooked up to a car battery. He did some quick math in his head and almost fainted. He had approximately a week to live before even that battery couldn't sustain his heart, weak from the shrapnel put there by a Stark missile. A missile he had designed.

The agent noticed where his attention had gone. "Like I said, we're working on a better solution—"

"Don't bother," Tony interrupted. He reached into his pocket, thankful that he was met with cool glass. He hadn't lost or broke it. That was some good luck. "I need someone to clean this extremely well. Then bring it back to me. Quickly."

Coulson motioned for one of the doctors to do so. Tony let it go reluctantly, and watched as his invention was cleaned. The doctor returned and held it out for him to take.

"Actually, I need your help," Tony said, reaching up and unscrewing the implant in his chest. People surged forward to stop him, except it was too late. "I seem to be going into cardiac arrest. Doc, if you could attach that to the plate in the hole in my chest, I would appreciate it."

"Um, I don't know…" the doctor said, trailing off as he stared at the hole in the boy's chest.

"Do it, dammit, he's dying!" Coulson snapped. The doctor nodded and did as Tony had ordered.

"Much better," Tony sighed as the device clicked into place. "Great job, doc. You deserve a raise. Really. I'm all better. That should kept my heart pumping, for, let's see, ever."

"Why don't you all give me some time alone with Mr. Stark?" Coulson suggested, and everyone immediately cleared out. The woman with him shut the doors, but Tony knew she was still there, listening in or recording them.

"There, I'm good to go, Agent. Bring me home," Tony commanded.

"We're on American soil right now, Mr. Stark. I'll let you go as soon as I can determine what happened to you since your kidnapping."

"Why don't you ask dear old dad? He knows about as much as I do. Maybe more."

"Please, just answer my questions, and then we can move on."

Tony did. His answers were brief, sarcastic, and biting. Tony made no secret his discontent for the interrogation. But Coulson was patient, asking specific questions and offering no commentary on his side. They were done in an hour. Coulson didn't seem quite satisfied, but he turned off the recording device.

"Great, if that's all, then I want to go home now," Tony announced and stood up, having long ago ripped off the medical equipment.

"Actually, Mr. Stark, there are some things you missed these past few months," Coulson said, blocking his way.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm way behind on music. Any suggestions, Agent? You're probably still listening to stuff from the seventies though, so maybe I should ask someone else."

"Anthony," Coulson said, grabbing his arm and sighing. He met the teen's eyes. "I'm sorry. There was a car crash two weeks ago. Your parents died in it."

Tony yanked away, shaking his head. "No. You're lying. No. That can't be true."

"I am so sorry. Your parents were wonderful people. They didn't deserve this." Coulson's heart broke from looking at the absolute devastation on the genius's face.

"STOP IT!" he screamed, backing away. "They're not dead, they're not! They can't be." Tony sank against the wall, tears pouring down his face. "No, no, no…," he murmured. "They can't be, they can't. Oh, god, no, please..."

"Your father left you everything. Your mother, too. The company, all the estates, and the bank accounts. You're now the wealthiest man in the world. Not bad for thirteen," a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent said, dropping a file in front of Tony. Coulson and one of his interns were also in the room.

Tony didn't even look at the file. He stared straight at Coulson. "I want to go home."

"Mr. Stark, that isn't possible right now. Due to the current situation, S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks it's best if you stay here for a while. While you get acclimated and we find a way to tell the world that you're not dead," Coulson explained.

That was the first time in a week Tony had both eaten a meal, showered, and slept, all in one day. He still looked exhausted and his eyes were bloodshot. It wasn't easy to come back from months of torture to find out your parents were dead. Though the teen was being unpleasant enough that even Coulson was getting close to hitting him. He had a way of finding people's sore points and aggravating them. And he didn't care if he upset someone, not in his current state.

"I don't care about any of this damn legal stuff. I have a mansion in L.A., and I want to go to it. Right now," the teen said.

"Coulson, maybe we could arrange something," the intern said. He was young, about sixteen, no older. He wore a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform.

The agent looked at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"We know Stark lied to us," the intern said, and Tony watched their exchange. "Maybe we should search his residence. And bring the kid along. He needs some familiarity right now."

"Who are you again?" Tony interrupted.

"James Rhodes," he said.

"Well, Rhodey, I don't really think you should be speaking for me."

"I'm trying to help you, you arrogant ass! Do you want to go to your place for a bit or not?"

Tony blinked, then leaned back. "By all means, continue."

Coulson rubbed his temples. "Wait, what just happened? Did he actually agree to something? Rhodes, you're in charge of him now. Do whatever you want with him, just make sure word about him doesn't get out."

"Yes, sir. Let's go, kid. I think it's time you got out of all these bunkers," Rhodes said, grinning at the teen slumped on the couch. Tony hopped up right away and practically teleported to Rhodes's side.

"Please tell me I can drive," Tony said, a desperate note to his voice as they left the room.

"Maybe. Wait til we're out of view of this place though. I don't think we're supposed to let you drive, since you're kind of a detainee, I guess? I don't know, man, I just need some extra credit to get into the officer's academy early."

"I need to make a call," Tony declared as they sped along a cliff. They'd been driving for two hours down to his mansion. They'd chatted on and off along the way, although both were careful to keep Afghanistan out of the conversation.

"To who? You're dead, remember?" Rhodes reminded him.

"Well, I need to make this call."

"Will you tell me who you want to call?" Rhodes pressed. Tony didn't answer, so the older boy sighed. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

They were silent for a few minutes. The beautiful California coast whizzed by. Tony was a confident driver, edging way over the speed limit whenever they were alone. Rhodes would have stopped him, except he had a feeling that Tony needed this. He felt safe enough. He'd been skeptical when the thirteen year old had asked to drive, but he was excellent at it.

"How do you know how to drive? You can't even get a permit yet," Rhodes asked, trying to break Tony out of his shell. He was mourning, and Rhodes worried that if the boy was left to his own devices he might try to join his parents, one way or another. No one at S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to share his concern. Tony had practically been in isolation.

"I've built the fastest cars on Earth. Of course I can drive. I taught myself," Tony answered. He didn't seem impressed by Rhodes's question.

"When?"

"I was around seven. The hardest part was reaching the pedals."

Rhodes laughed. "That's crazy."

The kid's mouth tilted up. "You know what, Rhodey? I think I like you." Before the agent could even think of a response, Tony said, "We're here."

Tony yanked the wheel and they made an abrupt right onto a gravel road. They drove through a grove for a full two minutes before they hit a set of iron gates. Tony did a retinal scan at the gate to admit them, then pulled up in front of a beautiful mansion. He got out without a word and walked up to the front doors. Rhodes trailed after him, unsure if he should comfort Tony or leave him alone. He had very little experience dealing with orphaned billionaire geniuses.

"Home sweet home," Tony whispered, pausing at the large front doors. He didn't look at Rhodes as he said, "No one's mentioned the driver."

"The driver?"

"My father never drove himself. Did the driver die too?"

"No one survived the wreck," Rhodes said. Did Tony want someone to blame for the accident? Why had he asked now? Coulson could have told him a week ago if he wanted to know.

Something in Tony's eyes guttered out. He shoved open the doors, allowing them to slam into the walls. He stormed inside and grabbed something from a drawer. A gun. Rhodes lunged after him, whether to stop Tony from shooting him or Tony from shooting himself, he didn't know. But Tony shoot a vase instead. Rhodes dropped, covering his head as Tony starting shooting everything. The paintings, the statues, the chandelier, the walls, the windows. His face was blank and he didn't stop until the clip was empty and broken glass littered the ground. Then he dropped the gun and walked upstairs without a word.

He was so skinny and pale from his imprisonment in a cave that he looked like a ghost haunting his own mansion.

Rhodes followed cautiously, keeping his hand on the stun gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Tony's behavior was erratic and dangerous right now. He seemed to be picking a lock. Heavy oak doors swung open, revealing what had obviously been his father's study. Rhodes followed him in, staying by the door.

Tony sat at the enormous desk, looking like a child playing grown-up. He turned on the computer and starting typing. Rhodes watched him.

"My father worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony said. He must not have known. It wasn't unusual for those in S.H.I.E.L.D. to lie to their families about it.

"Yes. He was our top weapons distributor and consultant," Rhodes said.

"When did he tell you that I'd died?"

Rhodes wasn't sure where he was going with these questions. But he decided to play along. "The day after you claim you were kidnapped."

"Claim?" Tony said in amusement, raising an eyebrow but not looking up.

"We don't have any actual proof of when you were taken. No one was there to witness it. And you were, uh…"

"Tortured. Don't be polite now, I'm not going to wither away like a delicate flower. I remember every minute of what they did to me. I wonder if my father can say the same."

Rhodes frowned. "Why would Howard Stark remember you being tortured? He thought you were dead."

"Yes, he did. Except he thinks I died three and a half months ago, not four." He turned the screen towards Rhodes. "Ta-da."

He stepped forward and leaned down to see the screen. It was displaying grainy footage that was harshly lit. It showed men with their faces covered, holding large guns, and a scrawny, bloodied boy being held by his hair in the front. The man was saying something, demanding a ransom. In the corner was a small box showing Howard Stark's stern face. He was talking with the man in the cave. Rhodes felt sick. This was real. It was dated the day Tony had supposedly died. Howard had known they had his son. Known, and done shit to save him.

"This happened for a month," Tony said in a detached voice. On screen, Tony was being shoved into a tank of water, being tortured. Howard seemed unaffected. Rhodes wanted to hurl. "He let those bastards do that to me, he never even tried to save me. So why don't you bring this back to your precious S.H.I.E.L.D., and show them what type of man Howard really was. I also have a secret camera in my room that should have footage of my kidnapping."

Tony got up and went to leave the room. Rhodes called after him, "Wait! Where are you going?"

"I need to make a call." Tony left.

Rhodes began transferring the files on Howard's computer onto a USB. Director Fury would want to see this. Coulson too. As he worked, he marveled at Tony's genius. Tony had known his father had these files. He'd faked homesickness to get Rhodes to take him back to the mansion to find the evidence. Rhodes could tell he hated this whole mansion and had had no desire to be back here. This had been a ploy, to prove his story and slander his father. And, to make that very important call.

"Good job, kid," Rhodes said to the empty room, impressed with the little genius. Once the files were downloaded he went to find Tony. It took a few minutes, but then he found him in an upstairs bedroom. Tony's room. Gadgets and science books were everywhere. The teen was staring at his computer screen, at a picture.

"Who's she?" Rhodes asked. Tony didn't turn away from the picture. It was of a girl his age with strawberry blonde hair. She was wearing a uniform and laughing. She was cute.

"Pepper." Tony sighed. "This is a mistake. Let's go."

"Whoa, wait up," Rhodes said, and Tony turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "This is who you've been bugging me for hours to call, and you're chickening out now? Screw that. Call her."

"Well, it's not like she'll answer a guy she thinks is dead anyways," Tony snapped.

"Yes she will. Call her."

He hesitated. "I can't. I can't tell her over a video chat that I'm alive."

"Okay. So how do we get you two to meet in person?" Rhodes asked.

Tony's head shot up. "You'll help me?"

"I think I like you, Tony. So, sure. What can we do?"

"Pepper?" Tony said, stepping into the room.

The strawberry blonde whirled around, her hands flying to her mouth. "Tony?" she whispered, lowering her hands. Tears were already sliding down her face.

"I'm here." She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed without restraint into his shoulder. He gripped her tightly and his breath was shaky as he said, "I'm sorry, Pepper, I'm so sorry. I'm never leaving you again, I'm sorry."

"How...how are you alive? I went to your funeral, Tony, you were dead. Everyone thought you were dead," she sniffed.

"It's a long story."

"What's going to happen now?"

Tony sat down on a couch against the wall. Pepper kept his hand in hers, checking his pulse. She could hardly believe this was happening. He'd been dead. But now he was here, in her house. Very much not dead. It was almost too much. He looked thin, and tired. More tired than she'd ever seen him look, even with all his late night tinkering.

"I'm not sure. I think I'm moving to New York. I have a property there, that used to be Dad's, but now...well, it's mine."

"I'll come with. I'll transfer schools so we can stay together."

He shook his head. "I'm not going back to school, Pepper."

"Tony, tell me what's happening. How are you alive, who's taking care of you, why are you moving to New York?"

"God, I've missed you. More than you can know," he said, staring at her as if memorizing her face.

"You're worrying me."

Those simple words snapped something in him. His head dropped to his hands and he trembled. She placed a soothing hand on his back. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know what was wrong. Or rather, she didn't know what wasn't wrong right now.

"They're all dead. Mom, Dad, Jarvis… S.H.I.E.L.D. is watching me right now. They're a government agency Dad worked with. Because of what happened they don't want people knowing I'm alive. They're setting up a special program, for kids...like me. We're going to use the place in New York to run it."

"Tony, you're not making sense. What happened to you?"

He was crying now, she could tell. "I killed them, Pepper, I killed them. They're dead, and they're going to come after me."

His words, nonsensical, swirled around in her head. She sat next to him and gripped his hands as only the sound of his crying filled the room. A few minutes later they heard a commotion outside. The doors were flung open and a man in a suit came in, trailed by an apologetic looking teenager.

"Mr. Stark, I thought we told you that you were not to contact anyone," the man in the suit said, his mouth a thin line.

"Coulson, Rhodes had nothing to do with this, I tricked him-" Tony began to say, but he was cut off.

"I know that Rhodes was fully aware of what he was doing. You may be the smartest person in the room, Tony, but you're not the only smart one."

"What's going on?" Pepper demanded, moving protectively in front of Tony.

Coulson's gaze transferred over to her. "Miss Potts, I am so sorry for this scene."

"Cut the crap!" Tony snapped. "She already knows I'm alive! Its staying that way. If you want me to become a ghost, fine, but she gets to know. I need her, so she stays."

The agent didn't respond for a minute. Then he said, "Very well. We'll work out the details later."

"How am I going to convince my parents to switch my school?" Pepper murmured to Tony.

He looked down at her. His growth spurt had kicked in this year and it was the first time in his life he was taller than her. It annoyed her that they were no longer eye to eye. She could have sworn he'd grown another inch since she'd last seen him. Or maybe he just seemed older. She'd thought she'd had a bad time, losing her best friend, but she could tell something far worse had happened to him.

"Didn't they want you to go to that all girls finishing school in upstate New York?"

"I can't believe you remember that. It's not ideal...but, yeah, that will work. They've been hinting they want me to switch schools lately since the, uh, crash."

"Rhodes, please return Mr. Stark to HQ," Coulson said. The agent turned to the teenage girl. "I would like to talk to Miss Potts."

"Alright. Let's go, Tony," the other guy, Rhodes said.

He looked upset, but he hugged Pepper one last time and said, "Check the link later." Then he left with the other teenager. Her only consolation was that she'd talk to him later. She was glad now she hadn't taken down the setup Tony had made for them to talk on. She'd considered doing that after attending his funeral.

"Please sit down, Miss Potts. I think there are certain things you should be brought up to date with regarding Mr. Stark," Agent Coulson said once they had both seated themselves.

"What do you mean? Is he okay?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm not sure I'd say that. I believe Howard Stark told everyone that his son was captured by a radical terrorist group and then killed."

"Yes," she said.

"Parts of that are true. From what Mr. Stark tells us, the group that captured him was called the Ten Rings."

"Oh, God."

Coulson continued. "The group held Mr. Stark somewhere in Afghanistan for approximately three months. He was tortured there. The group tried to get a ransom out of Howard Stark, but he refused to pay. After a month they planned to kill the younger Mr. Stark. Instead, he cut a deal with the terrorists for time. He managed to escape. He killed all the terrorists in his escape. He then blew up the cave."

Pepper was feeling a bit faint. "How do we know they weren't killed in the blast?"

"Miss Potts, because the entire base was blown to bits and we couldn't recover any evidence from the scene, we have to rely on Mr. Stark's report of the events. His wording was very specific. He killed them all individually, and then blew up the place," Coulson told her. Though his words were those of a man stating facts, she could see in his face that he wanted to comfort her. But that wasn't his job. "We've found evidence of the blast sight, but it's hard to find any bodies. The blast incinerated everything in the area."

She didn't say anything. Her mind was racing.

"His injuries also line up with the events he tells us happened in the cave. I'll spare you the details. He sustained severe injuries before he was brought to an American base, and then transferred to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s care. He's perfectly stable now. There's an implant in his chest keeping him alive indefinitely. He's been back in the US for about two weeks. We had to break the news to him that his parents had died. He's been mourning."

She laughed, and Coulson frowned. "Miss Potts?"

"You really don't know him do you?" she said, shaking her head. "Tony doesn't care that his parents are dead. Jarvis was driving the car. Jarvis is dead. And you've been consoling him about his parents."

"The driver?" Coulson asked for clarification. He remembered the name in passing, as a note in the article on the car crash. Everyone knew there had been three victims, but the passing of the tech titan and his model wife had been of much more interest to the world as a whole. Stark Industries was one of the biggest companies in the world. It had been a tragedy, the passing of the parents two months after their poor son.

"Yes, the driver. Jarvis. He practically raised Tony. His father beat him and his mother never tried to stop him," Pepper snapped. Coulson looked surprised. She folded her arms. "I want to go with Tony."

"I'm sorry, but S.H.I.E.L.D. does not have the ability to care for minors."

"What about Tony, and your intern? He didn't look eighteen."

"Rhodes works for us. He's been cleared by the army to work with us. And Mr. Stark is one of our charges."

She had heard of what S.H.I.E.L.D. did. They were an intelligence agency, a worldwide net of spies and assassins. They only dealt with people who posed a danger to the world or the United States. They were also incredibly secretive and managed to stay out of the news.

"Tony's not dangerous."

"Many of my agents would disagree with you, Miss Potts. He managed to single-handedly take down a well armed terrorist ring. But that's not the only reason my organization has him in our care. When Howard Stark passed, he listed the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. as the next legal guardian."

"This is it. My prison."

Pepper whacked Tony's arm. "Stop being over-dramatic. Phil and I will be in and out all the time. You have state of the art labs and garages and dozens of acres."

"Phil? Why is he Phil? He's locking me up here!" Tony snapped.

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Because in the week it took to get this place ready you built some wierd iron man suit and trashed a gang in LA."

"They deserved it. They were the ones who smuggled the weapons to the Ten Rings."

"Maybe they were guilty, but it wasn't your job to put them in jail. And the hospital. Now you're officially the first Avenger. Deemed too dangerous by the US government to be with us normal people. And you know what? I completely agree. You need to be protected from yourself, Tony."

"Whatever. Do you think there's ever going to be another Avenger?"

"Yes. I think the world's gone crazy and you're going to have plenty of friends in no time."

He began walking towards the building. "You might be right. Better take advantage of the quiet time now. That stint down in LA was really enlightening. I have a ton of work to do on the suit. Hey, what'd ya call it? An Iron Man suit? I like that." She laughed at him and waved. He strolled towards the new Avengers Facility.

Iron Man, the first Avenger, he thought. It had a nice ring to it.