※Hey,§ Pepper＊s voice says quietly, and Tony shuts his eyes, braces himself ready to argue with her because he＊s not leaving this damn room. If Clint and his bow and Natasha and her various stabby implements can＊t threaten him into leaving, then he＊s not going to move for anyone-

※Here.§

He opens his eyes, looks sideways and sees her holding out a giant cup of coffee. The gesture makes the lump in his throate back, and he takes the drink wordlessly, hoping she knows how grateful he is.

※He＊ll be alright, you know,§ Pepper says, standing close. He lets himself slump sideways, resting his head on her hip. She slides a hand into his hair, strokes through it for a moment before gently pushing him back and sitting down in the chair next to him. She's in a neatly pressed business suit, obviously still busy with running Stark Industries whilst Tony's world has ground to a halt.

※Tony?§

※Not talking about it, Pep,§ Tony says abruptly, because he can＊t. If he tries he＊s going to lose the grip he has on the last remaining threads of self-control he possesses.

※Okay,§ she nods, calm and quiet, and Tony wishes that she wasn＊t so good to him. He stares at Steve＊s face and feels all sorts of terrible things churning in his chest, and suddenly the words are there on the tip of his tongue, and he stares unblinkingly at Steve＊s mouth, willing them back into place, willing himself to keep it all locked down-

※I want him back, Pep,§ he blurts out, and the words hang there, heavy and far too real. ※I think 每 I think I need him back.§

※I know you do,§ Pepper says quietly, and oh god, she understands, she knows. Her hand slides onto Tony＊s shoulder, and he blindly reaches for her wrist, holding on tightly and wishing that the realisation didn＊t feel so much like dying. God, if Steve doesn＊te back to him then Tony will regret it for the rest of his life-

The door behind them opens, and Tony roughly wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

※Yes, but his entire metabolism is faster,§ Bruce＊s voice is saying, sounding fed up. ※His cell processing rate is, Tony 每 how many times faster than it used to be?§

※Four point three one three four,§ Tony says tonelessly, and then blinks and breathes out, refocussing. ※What are we arguing about?§

※The cocktail of drugs they seem determined to pump into Steve,§ Bruce says. ※I＊m telling them it＊s pointless because we don＊t know why he＊s in thea. It＊s not down to hyperglycemia, there＊s no signs of intracranial pressure-§

※It＊s pointless,§ Tony agrees, and Bruce folds his arms across his chest and tilts his chin down towards the floor, eyes lifting to look at Tony as he takes over the argument. ※He weighs two hundred and twenty eight pounds to begin with, two hundred milligram doses wouldn＊t do shit even if he didn＊t have a super-soldier metabolism. Hell, the guy can drink eight bottles of Macallans and not even wobble, I know, I＊ve seen it-§

※You gave him eight bottles of Macallans?§ Pepper asks, sounding astounded, just before her eyes narrow dangerously. ※Hang on, which bottles?§

Tony doesn＊t miss a beat. ※Ones from Walmart?§

Pepper looks at him. ※Please tell me that the twenty thousand dollar bottles of whiskey that were supposed to be for a charity auction didn＊t go missing because you were trying to get Captain America drunk.§

Tony winces, shrugs. ※I wanted to see if he could tell it was from 1940, you know, the taste of the good old days.§

Pepper looks at him, mouth hanging open. She then looks over at Steve and she starts to laugh but it very quickly descends into tears. Bruce is there immediately, hands on her shoulders in aforting gesture. Tony＊s heart clenches because he hates seeing Pepper upset, hates it with every fibre of his being.

※He would be so mad at you,§ she half laughs, half cries. ※Oh, Tony. You idiot.§

The doctor has gone from looking crestfallen topletely bemused. He seems to try and remember what they were actually talking about prior to the argument about getting Captain America drunk. ※Well, we could try-§

※No more drugs,§ Tony shakes his head. ※Not until you can say you know exactly what they＊ll do to him. The amount you would have to give him is unprecedented, and let＊s face it, at the moment you＊re just stabbing in the dark.§

It absolutely kills him to say it, because if it were possible he would bottle a miracle and inject it straight into Steve＊s heart if he thought it would bring him back. He turns away from the doctor and back to Pepper, slumping sideways to rest his head on her shoulder, zoning out the sounds of the doctor and Bruce now discussing something to do with EEGs. Pepper pulls herself together within minutes, breathing out shakily through her mouth and wiping under her eyes with her knuckles, straightening up in her chair.

※How did you not already realise?§ Pepper murmurs to Tony, taking one of his hands and holding it in hers. He knows what she＊s talking about without having to ask.

※You know me,§ he replies quietly, eyes on Steve＊s face. ※There has to be some sort of near death experience for all of my epiphanies.§

※Seems to be your thing,§ Pepper agrees, and stays with him, holding his hand tight.

The early morning sunlight glints of the surface of the river, the slow moving current throwing glittering sparks across Steve＊s vision. A breeze ruffles his hair, washes cool and weing against his skin where he＊s got the suit pulled down to his waist, arms loosely knotted around his middle. He＊s lying back on the grass of what he knows as the Brooklyn Bridge Park, looking out over the river and Manhattan. He＊s walked miles and miles to get here this morning, sneaking out past Shield and the others who had all been firmly of the opinion that he should stay in the apartment. He understood their concern to a point, but he＊d felt so restless and cagey after the previous days revelations that he＊d had to get out. Exploring the city has been a wee distraction, helping him feel marginally purposeful instead of like someone ipetent who needs to be constantly babysat.

The park 每 as he＊s found with the rest of the city - is not quite the same. The 1920＊s carousel is still there, and with piercing clarity Steve remembers the day Tony took a forty minute diversion through hellish traffic to show it to Steve, apparently on nothing more than a whim. He＊d pulled up 每 illegally 每 on the side of the street, pushing Steve out of the car with impatience and the words &#039e on, it＊s the one thing around here that＊s actually older than you are.'

The crowds had been excitable and loud, the queues simply mind-boggling, and Steve had beenpletely and utterly taken aback that Tony had even spared a thought to consider that Steve might like to see the old fashioned carousel.

But now the Park is deserted, the carousel is still and silent, and there＊s no Tony wearing sunglasses more expensive than Steve＊s motorbike and bitching about a parking ticket, adamant that it wasn＊t fair because 'we were here for like five minutes and you＊re a national icon, they can＊t ticket a national icon, that＊s just un-American 每 hey, stop looking at me like that, you know I＊m right. Cap, get a pen, write that America objects on this ticket.'

Steve feels a lump in his throat as he stares out over the glittering river at the alien skyline of Manhattan.

Fucking Tony.

How the hell is he supposed to even process the fact that it seems inevitable that he＊ll end up with the guy? Married at worst, only sleeping with him at best? God, Steve hasn＊t ever thought of Tony like that and he can＊t understand it. It＊s making him feel horrendously ufortable, like there＊s a ticking time-bomb in his chest that will one day blow and he＊ll end up falling in with Tony whether he likes it or not.

God, he＊s supposed to be thinking about how he＊s going to get home, what he＊s going to do to sort this mess out, not about Tony. For not the first time, he pushes away thoughts of Tony and manages to turn his brain to what it＊s supposed to be doing.

He finds himself toying with the idea of walking back into the misty part of the city where he＊d first appeared, to see if there＊s anything there that will help him make head or tail of this mess. He＊s not got many other ideas, and he＊ll be damned if he just sits about and does nothing for much longer.

※Hey.§

He cranes his neck around at the familiar voice, and internally cringes as he spots Seven walking towards him. Just what he needs; Tony Stark＊s goddamn husband toe and make everything moreplicated and confusing. He＊d possibly rather deal with Shield＊s over-protectiveness right now, as disconcerting and frustrating as it is.

But no, maybe that＊s unfair. He can＊t be a dick to Seven just because he somehow thought it was a good idea to marry Tony goddamn Stark, however tempting it feels. After the morning he＊s had he realises he would have to be a dick to nearly every version of himself if he truly wanted to object to the decisions that they＊ve made across the multiverse.

※Hey,§ Steve replies evenly as Seven wanders over and sits next to him on the grass, one knee pulled up to rest an elbow on.

※Shield is both annoyed and impressed that you managed to sneak out,§ Seven says matter-of-factly. ※I think he and themander were about to orchestrate a city-wide sweep.§

Steve just shrugs. ※Had to get out,§ he says unapologetically. ※Howe they didn＊t?§

※I said I＊de find you,§ Seven says. ※They knew one guy would draw less attention than a whole search party.§

※Still worried about this Director fella finding me?§

Seven nods. ※He＊ll be interested in you, that＊s for sure. Though it＊ll probably be harder to find you when you＊re out and about. He could pass you in the street and not know you were any different.§

Conceding the point, Steve nods. He looks exactly the same as the others after all; there＊s no light shining on him to mark him out as different, no billboard that declares ＆I am not quite dead,＊ no flashy lights like the adverts of th

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