When Tony drifted back into consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that it was warm. He heard voices speaking and froze, not wanting to give his awareness away to the New Order, but then he heard an advertisement for a mascara brand and realized it was a television. It was possible he was still at the compound, so he lay still until his memory started to return. Once he remembered seeing Rhodey—and Steve—standing in the doorway of the garage, he felt comfortable enough to try to open his eyelids. It took a monumental effort, but after a brief struggle, he was successful.

The world was a blur and it took three more blinks for both eyes to focus on the same thing. In this case, that thing was Rhodey, who was sitting at the foot of the bed, back turned toward Tony so he could watch the television hanging from the ceiling.

Drained from just opening his eyes, Tony couldn't muster up the energy to speak, so lay there silently while the sounds from the television washed over him. If he wasn't mistaken—but he might have been, given how hard he was working to stay focused—it was that hip hop drama Rhodey liked.

A few minutes later, Tony was actually successful in opening his mouth, and he forced out a weak "hey" before his body realized its mistake. His voice was rough and barely audible to his own ears but somehow Rhodey must have heard it.

His friend immediately turned around, a wide smile breaking over his face seconds later. "Hey yourself," he said, as he stood up and leaned over Tony. "You with us for good this time?"

Tony nodded or at least, he tried to. Whatever he ended up doing, Rhodey must have understood for his smile only grew. "We'll have this conversation again when you're not on massively strong painkillers, but I'm seriously thinking about chipping you, like a runaway dog. It'll short-circuit the whole 'worry and retrieval' stage. What do you think?"

Tony nodded again, not because he agreed with whatever Rhodey had just said, but because he was losing his grip on consciousness and needed to know one very important thing.

"Get 'em?"

"We got them," Rhodey confirmed. "Those who surrendered are being interrogated by New SHIELD; the rest died for their cause. Plus," he grinned widely, "we got your money back. All..."

Tony's eyes must have slipped closed, since he found himself once again fighting to open them. Some time must have passed for sun was now streaming in through the window, and Rhodey was sitting beside his bed, reading a book.

"Hey," Rhodey said as he glanced up at the monitors above Tony's head.

This time, Tony was awake enough to immediately remember what had happened. Knowing he was safe in a hospital with Rhodey looking out for him, he bypased Rhodey's question and looked down at his side, which was packed with gauze and wrapped with bandages, but was no longer lumpy with the stub of rebar.

"They took it out," Rhodey said, before Tony could ask the question himself. "Stitched you up and gave you antibiotics for the infection. The rest of your wounds are supposed to heal on their own."

Well that was good.

Another question jumped to the forefront of Tony's mind and he heard himself asking it before his brain could get involved. "Barnes?"

"He's stable. He'll be out of here long before you."

Be out? Not was out?

"They're still here?" Tony croaked.

To Tony's surprise, Rhodey's face fractured with concern. "The first thing you gotta know is that I have a suit," his friend said, pointing for the far left corner of the room. Tony followed Rhodey's extended finger to see Iron Patriot standing in sentry mode, eye lights glowing softly. "It's been here since Barnes was mobile," Rhodey continued. "I wanted to make sure you felt safe, no matter what."

That was a lot of loosely related comments, that Tony might have been able to string together on a better day. Today though, they just washed over him in confusion.

"I don't—"

Then Rhodey was pointing again, this time to Tony's right. With great effort, Tony rolled his head in that direction to see a bearded Steve Rogers passed out in a plastic chair set in the connecting doorway leading to another hospital room. His head was leaned back against the doorjamb, his hands laced over his abdomen, and his legs were stretched out in front of him, one encased in a grey walking boot.

"He's barely left your side since you got out of surgery," Rhodey finished.

Tony knew without asking that Barnes was in the other room. Memories of the Siberia fight flashed through his mind, bringing with them a flurry of unwanted emotions, but they were tempered (slightly) by the memories of everything Barnes had done for him back in the compound. The conflict caused his heart rate to speed up, and Tony grounded himself by focusing on Rhodey, who he now realized was sitting in his wheelchair.

"You good?" he ground out as he tried to will his heartbeat back into sinus rhythm.

"Fine, Tones. Just taking my mandatory break."

Tony really needed to work on getting that break down to a more reasonable length of time. Six hours was really too long—

"You're going to hear it from someone eventually, I'd rather it be from me," Rhodey spoke up, and Tony's heart sank into his stomach.

"What?" he ground out.

"Barnes has been in multiple times to check on you."

That was not the horrible news Tony had been expecting, but Rhodey continued quickly, as if worried Tony was going to either freak out or cut him off—to be fair, both were viable options.

"He never goes past the doorway, just sticks his head in and asks how you are. Steve said he's changed but," Rhodey tipped his head toward the suit, "we can't be too careful."

Tony wasn't sure he entirely agreed with the last part of statement, but he was far too tired to argue. "We need to work on your delivery, Honey Bear," was all he said, as he once again fought to level out his heart rate.

"No secrets, right?" Rhodey replied, his gaze flicking up to Tony's monitors, until they quieted down. "He was fighting for you the whole time," Rhodey then added, tilting his head at Steve, who hadn't so much as shifted the entire time Tony had been awake. "Did whatever he could to get you back." Then Rhodey looked back at his book and pointedly turned the page. "Do with that what you will. I have your back either way."

Tony swallowed hard then looked back toward where Steve was sitting.

"Rogers!"

In the second it took Tony to realize he was the one who had called Steve's name, the supersoldier jerked upright. His gaze bounced between the two rooms until it came to rest on Tony, who was fighting off feelings of panic, unease, and a strong desire to work on thinking before speaking because it always ended with him in situations like this.

His expression must have shown some combination of those things for Steve stayed seated, tucking his left ankle behind the chair leg and grabbing the chair arms with his hands. It was very obviously a gesture to show Tony he was going to stay where he was, until he was asked to do otherwise.

"It's good to see you awake," Steve said softly. "How are you feeling?"

No less than twelve snappy answers ran through Tony's head, but this time, he thought them through and settled on, "I've been better."

Steve nodded rapidly, almost spastically. "We were worried." He looked briefly at his hands then amended, "I was worried." Suddenly, he glanced up at Tony, just shy of making eye contact. "I need to know if you're okay with us being here. If not, we'll go, no questions asked."

When Tony didn't immediately respond, he hurriedly continued, "I just didn't want you to want to talk and find us gone, but now that you're awake, we can go, if you want."

Tony wasn't sure what expression was splashed over his face, but whatever it was caused Steve to frown, then hobble to his feet. "We'll go, sorry," he said, pressing himself as close as he could to the wall. "Glad you're okay, Tony. Really."

"Stay." Once again the words were out of Tony's mouth before he could stop them, but he found he wasn't appalled by the idea. Everything wasn't instantly forgiven after the past day, but it had gone a long way to show that things could be repaired, if it was something both sides wanted. And Tony did. The Avengers had disagreed, fought between themselves, and at worst, hadn't spoken to each other for a full week, but up until Siberia, he knew he could still count on all of them to watch his back. Unbidden, and without any promise of reparation, Steve (and Barnes) had shown that they were still willing to do that.

With time and a lot of pseudo-therapy with FRIDAY, Tony had come to realize that they'd all been pawns in Zemo's plan: the big dramatic reveal, the infighting, and the goal of tearing the Earth's defenders apart from the inside. It all could have been avoided if he or Steve had done any number of things differently. Tony acknowledged his part in the mess, but was open to at least hearing what Steve had to say about his, to see if there was anything in their relationship, and even friendship, that was worth saving.

"Sit," Tony said more assuredly as he gestured toward the empty chair by his bed. This chair happened to be on the opposite side of the bed from Rhodes, who immediately frowned and moved his hands to his wheels, ready to move to Tony's other side as well.

But Tony waved him off. He could do this; he needed to do this.

On the other side of the room, Steve's eyes widened, both hopeful and uncertain. "Are you sure? Because if you're not 100% positive, I will leave right now, and we can take this up another day."

"Sit down, Steve."

All protests dropped from Steve's expression and he began to hobble over. In that same second, Tony's heartbeat began to race, which was mirrored in the rapid beeps from the monitor, and his hands turned clammy.

Steve looked up at the screens, then back down at Tony, waiting one last time for confirmation.

Tony just rolled his eyes and pointed to the seat. By the time he'd calmed himself down for the third time, Steve had perched on the edge of the chair. He seemed content to let Tony drive the conversation, but unfortunately, Tony had no idea what to do after this point.

The room remained in an uncomfortable silence before Tony finally spoke up. "Thank you."

For sticking around.

For what Rhodes said you did.

Steve just shrugged. "I needed to make sure you were okay." He looked down at Tony's side, to where the rebar had been, took a deep breath, then said, "I'm sorry, Tony. For all of it. I should have told you what I suspected but I—"

Nope, he'd been wrong. He was so not ready for this. Tony knew that he still wanted to talk, but was just now realizing that doing so in his hospital room, while he was on extremely strong painkillers, was the wrong play.

He shook his head so quickly it began to hurt, and held up his hand to physically block the rest of Steve's words. "Nope, Rogers. I cannot do this right now."

Thankfully, Steve had stopped speaking as soon as Tony had recoiled. "Okay, sure, no problem," he said, leaning way back in his seat. "Whenever you're ready." He paused for a minute then added, "We should talk though. At some point."

That Tony completely agreed with and he vocalized as much.

"In person," Steve continued. "Because you never used the phone I sent you."

"Wasn't sure you'd answer."

Steve reached down and pulled the duplicate of the phone he'd sent Tony from his pocket. It was dinged and the top screen was cracked, but it sparked with signs of life when he hit the side button. "I meant it, Tony. If you'd've called, I would have answered."

A wave of something—Tony wasn't quite sure what—washed over him, leaving just the tiniest speck of warmth in a corner of his chest he thought had long been abandoned. Maybe there was something worth saving after all.

The room drifted into silence until Tony felt the drugs tugging him under again. He resisted their pull, because there was one thing he really needed Steve to know while he was still able to say it.

"I don't hate him, you know." Hopefully there was no mystery about who him was. "But we're not friends."

Steve was again nodding rapidly, his expression nothing but understanding. "Okay, T—"

"Lemme finish. We have some stuff…" he trailed off as a yawn forced his jaw open, "...to work through. 'll of us." He had to swallow hard before he could get out the next part: "Stay in the States. Move back in."

Steve's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure? Ross is still around."

"If that's what you both want, we can figure something out," Rhodey chimed in, without actually looking up from his book, even though he hadn't actually turned a page since Steve had sat down.

Tony nodded, prompting Steve to do so as well.

"Okay," the supersoldier said, and if Tony wasn't mistaken, he actually sounded relieved. "We will."

"Sounds like a plan." Then Tony shifted uncomfortably because what he needed to say next wasn't something he enjoyed. With great effort, and before he lost his nerve, he forced out, "For what it's worth… I'm sorry too."

Steve smiled lopsidedly then nodded. "Just focus on getting better. We can talk about the rest later."

Despite the uncertainty and the uncomfortableness of the upcoming conversations, Tony drifted off to sleep, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time.

Bonus scene

Tony stayed at the hospital for the rest of the week, while Barnes was released after only two days. He was on light duty—no heavy lifting, or strenuous activity—for another six to eight weeks but, when the trade-off was staying in the hospital or taking it easy at the Avengers Compound, there was no competition.

Even though Vision had informed Tony that Steve and Barnes had moved into the Compound the day Barnes had been released, Tony kept expecting to hear the two of them had taken off, especially after Rhodey told him just how badly Ross reacted to the news. Needless to say, Tony was somewhat surprised to find Steve waiting him as Happy pulled the limo up to the front of the Compound. They awkwardly exchanged pleasantries, then Happy drafted Steve into helping him unload the truck, for which Happy earned an extra two weeks off at the end of the year.

Tony then slowly walked into the lobby, where Pepper was just getting off the elevator. She immediately wrapped him in a hug, mindful of his healing side, and calmly informed him that if he ever put her through that again, relationship or no, she would kill him.

He got the sense she really meant it. Also, that he should have FRIDAY scan him for metal implants, à la the tracking chip Rhodey had alluded to, as soon as he was alone.

By the time he and Pepper made their way back to the common floor, Steve was already in the kitchen, helping Happy unload the groceries. Happy informed them dinner would be at seven, but Steve politely passed on the invitation, saying he'd probably already overstepped his welcome for the day. He was gone before Tony had the chance to correct or deny the statement.

Steve's decision ended up working in his favor because Tony crashed not long after dinner, with the suit standing guard at the door and Pepper fully clothed beside him.

The next morning, he woke to an email invitation for a meeting between him, Rhodey, Steve and Barnes. He and Steve had discussed their need to talk a handful of times over the past week and had both voiced concerns that the discussion would spiral out of control. Pepper had offered to hire a therapist, but he and Steve had steadfastly refused, in light of what was at stake. Instead, and only after Tony secured her a pair of reservations to the most exclusive restaurant in Manhattan, Maria Hill had agreed to moderate.

With some difficulty, Tony showered, changed, then picked at the breakfast that was waiting for him in the common room. He was joined by Rhodey, whose presence helped pass the time until the meeting. At the agreed upon time, they headed down to the specified conference room, which was located in the inner block of hallways on the main floor.

Rhodey knocked but Tony just walked right in. Both were immediately blinded by the poor lighting in the room. There appeared to be just one working overhead fixture, which left the corners of the room heavily shadowed and only illuminated the middle of long conference table. Tony flipped switches on the wall, but didn't succeed in turning on any more of the lights he knew were installed in the room.

"Call maintenance," he ordered, knowing FRIDAY was listening. "Get them down there ASAP."

By that time, his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting enough to see Steve and Barnes sitting on the left side of the table, directly under the light. Tony's stomach clenched, but he tamped down on that feeling and he walked into the room with his head held high. He took a seat on the empty side of the table, also under the light, with Rhodey on his right.

He hadn't seen Barnes at all the last day, which he suspected was by design, much the same way Steve only stayed on the common floor in short bursts, but was not disappointed to see him looking much better than the last time Tony had seen him at Mt. Sinai.

"How the leg?" he asked, noting the cane hanging off the edge of the table.

"Getting there," Bucky responded. "And your side?"

"Healing nicely. At least that's what the overpaid doctors keep telling me."

Tony looked at Rhodey to bail him out of any additional awkward conversations, but his friend just shrugged and sat in silence. Which left Tony to fill the air with whatever was on his mind.

"Maintenance should be here shortly. These rooms don't get used much anymore. I can see why this one wasn't reported—" Tony continued, going on about the Compound and its continual upkeep until the door opened again, at which he was fairly certain he heard either Steve or Barnes (maybe both) sigh in relief.

The figure was backlit in the light from the hallway, so the four weren't immediately able to recognize who had arrived.

"Hill or maintenance?" Tony asked, squinting at the doorway.

"Neither," a very familiar male voice responded.

It was a voice Tony hadn't heard in years and he thought he was being pranked until the man stepped into the light.

"Sorry," none other than Agent Phil Coulson—presumed dead, obviously no more—said, though he sounded anything but. He pulled a device from his pocket and thumbed the side, which turned on all the light fixtures in the room. "I just couldn't help myself."

By the time four sets of eyes had adjusted and three sets of jaws had been picked up from the floor, Coulson had flipped open a notebook and uncapped a pen. "So," he said, turning to look at each of the room's occupants in turn, "where should we begin?"

Nov 12th addition: In light of Stan Lee's passing, you could also make him the moderator at the end of the fic. Thank you, Mr. Lee, for sharing your creations with us. May you rest in peace.

And that's the end of Forced Alliance! I hope you all had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Once again, please shower Mellia Bee and merry_rf with your appreciation as well. They are a huge reason why this fic is in the shape it's in today. I am so grateful for their time and assistance.

Thanks for all your comments, favorites or notifications! I'd love to know what you thought on your way out!