i always had a feeling you would show [bete noire]

[myheartglows]

The moment the house's invisible scanners registered an aware consciousness, JARVIS's protocols kicked in and he greeted Steve to the day of light: "Good morning, Captain Rogers. The date is Friday, October 7th. The temperature outside is 61 degrees with a humidity of..." He droned on through the rest, like nothing had changed, like he had never been disconnected from his conversation patterns or audio responses for the past five months.

Should Steve follow, perhaps, his instincts, or a simple word from JARVIS when prompted, he'd find himself barreling past the curving white halls and occasional hanging vine from potted plants, the bright light of repeating windows shining across hard floors in a space far too big for only one person, the sleekness of modern furniture and the cool earth tones that so contrasted against the vibrancy of the house's original owner, who -- who, as Steve could find out, sat downstairs in the workshop, long since locked, in the dark. (The workshop which had been shut down, vacant, motionless, eerie in contrast to the constant movement of before, when holograms flew through the air and the robots rolled around and always something, something was always going on, even when Tony had been sleeping: ready lights flickering on computer towers in the darkness (he never shut them down) and the steady hum of machinery lying in wait, in wait, waiting for--)

The lights were off. Tony sat in the recliner, hunched over, head hanging, one hand buried in his hair with his forehead on his palm. His back partly faced the workshop door, the thin windows through the basement buttresses enough to reveal him, and when Steve reached the keypad to punch in his access code, which would still work (of course, he had to pass through it every time he wanted to take the motorcycle out of the garage, and every time he wanted to come in through it, past all that black deadness in the shop), Tony's voice sounded out through the intercom on the wall next to it, hollow: "Guess the city wasn't ready to let me go, after all."

Comments

[backin_theworld]

It had been damn near five months. Five months. Steve watched as one by one, everyone who ever mattered to him in that damn place disappear. Return home. Proceed with their lives as if they never left it. It was fact. Everyone would leave sooner or later, no matter how long they'd been in the city.

Patrick Jane was the last to go, and that morning - despite it being over a month ago - was still fresh in his mind. Uhura, before him. And since the city had no plans of releasing him anytime soon (and ironically, he did pray for it because being returned to the frozen depths of the Atlantic seemed a far better fate than this would ever be), Steve was left with a large house with nothing left in it, and no motivation to start over.

The city finally had a firm hold on him.

But that morning, when his eyes fluttered open at the familiar sound of JARVIS, Steve was sure he was still asleep; fooling him into believing he was still lost inside a dream. It had been five months.

Yet, after making his way down to the shop -- the only place he knew to find him if he was really back -- and spent several long moments looking at the darkened form beyond the glass while he punched in his code. Then once he heard the click of the lock as it released, Steve slowly opened the door as Tony spoke, and only stepped far enough in to let the door close behind him.

"I spent every night hoping they were, Tony."

[myheartglows]

The light were kept off, and Tony kept silent. If Steve looked closely, from that angle, he could see that Tony's eyes were closed but moving between the lids, as if in REM sleep: Extremis filling his the months he had been missing better than anything ever could. Half of it was that, sure, but the other half -- well, he just wanted his eyes closed. He didn't want to look around him and remember where he was, because -- now what? What was he meant to do? Jane was gone, Uhura was gone, Camilla was dead. He had needed to walk here in the dawn hours because the armors had all self-detonated as programmed during his absence, and Starktech had floundered and broken apart.

He guessed he'd do what he always did: get up and start again. Even if he didn't particularly want to.

Finally, Tony leaned back into the recliner and lowered his hand, turning his head to look Steve in the eyes. And -- there. He saw it. The weariness in blue eyes, the scruff of blonde facial hair. Bete Noire had gotten its claws into the Captain as Tony had predicted. When Tony spoke, his mouth didn't move, and his tired voice instead came from nearby computer speakers: "So. You stayed."

[backin_theworld]

Tony looked like Steve felt. He was four months away from being there two years and every second of it showed. His shoulders slumped a little when he stood, his face turned scruffy from the days he "forgot" to shave, and his eyes weren't as bright and determined as they used to be; the way Tony might have remembered them, though one thing remained: Steve was still more worried about others than himself.

When Tony looked at him, he spared a moment to shrug and take a look around even though there was nothing to look at. Steve's eyes eventually locked onto the other man.

"Someone had to." he said, his voice low. What he wouldn't add was that despite Tony, Pepper, River, and Jane being gone, being there made the nights feel not as lonely.

[myheartglows]

Tony had a dissonance in his head now: the years he had spent here, and the few months he had suddenly spent back home technically in the past interjected between then and now. Feeling like and being the man Tony Stark had been in his world and then reverting to the Tony Stark here as the memories cluttered his head and tore him back down. So when Steve said that, it echoed a memory fresher than it should be: Yinsen's voice answering, "Someone has to," when Tony had asked him, both of them huddled over a flickering fire in the cave, why he'd cared.

He dipped his head low; his brain was still sorting out all the connections and information and putting things back into order after the initial surge. Slowly, he shut his eyes. At least he could be grateful that here he wasn't still dying of palladium poisoning. That had not been fun to live through. Again.

"I'd ... rather not be alone today," he said, haltingly even just speaking inside of his brain, because that wasn't the normal Tony Stark of Stark Industries and Iron Man fame back on Earth and in 2008 or '09 or whatever. It was the Tony Stark here who had been beaten and raped and whittled down, who had lost so many friends and lovers that he of all people had lost count, till it was just Steve Rogers left.

[backin_theworld]

Steve kept his gaze trained on the other, his mind wandering back to that day when he arrived; the wide-eyed teenager who seemed to know more about him than he knew about himself. The look of curiosity and intrigue and wonder even though he was stuck in a place that could snatch it away in the blink of an eye.

None of that was there now. Not even a remote trace of it left. Or, maybe he hoped there would be so he could remember what he was like when he was pulled there; something small enough to grab on to and hold.

Steve moved to stand beside the recliner. "You won't be." he promised, already coming to the decision that he wasn't going to go into work that night.

[myheartglows]

Blearily, Tony opened his eyes to the sight of his own listless hands on his lap. Things were clearing in his brain, memories and data bits put into their places, firewalls erecting and background connections minimized, others blocked, others ready. The walk here he had been stumbling and lost, overwhelmed, the seaside mansion the one bright spot in any digital map Extremis had pulled up. But he had missed this even though he hadn't realized he had lost it, the power steeling his bones and the reassuring spot above the back of his neck where he stored a link to JARVIS (and the armor, when he rebuilt it).

All a sudden, then, it hit him how much he had lost while he'd been gone. The rest of the city might as well be a ghost town; it felt like the entire world had shrunk down to just him and Cap. Grief choked him. He couldn't brush River's hair back out of her face anymore. Couldn't hear Jane debating with JARVIS over a chess match. And Camilla -- God, he had left Camilla to die alone. When he had felt like this before, he had had Pepper or Benjamin's lap to lie down on, to remind himself that...

"Gonna be weird for a minute here," he warned, still without physical speech, and almost of its own accord his body tilted till his head rested against Steve's hipbone.

[backin_theworld]

Lost and broken was the only way he could describe it. For the both of them. Tony came back to nothing and he lost everything. He was there; waking up every morning wondering who would be next until there was no one left to take away. That was when Steve gave up.

Until that morning.

Steve said nothing. His own emotion tightened in his chest, and only burned more when he felt the weight against his side, and before someone could change their mind and take the Tony away again, Steve's hand came to rest on his back.

[myheartglows]

The weight of Tony's head on Steve's hip was dead, the man himself slouched fully against the armrest and Steve, and if that armrest hadn't been there, Tony might have well just fallen all the way down. He took comfort in the heat at his temple and his back, proof that he wasn't alone, and that was all he needed to keep going. After some several seconds, he pulled himself away and sat up straight. Steve was still Steve and even if they were all each other had left now, it was still -- awkward.

"So you two didn't blow up the place while I was gone," he said, half actually speaking now and still half through Extremis. He didn't meet Steve's eyes. "That's good."

[backin_theworld]

For as long as Tony needed it, Steve stood there. It was the only thing he could do, really. He couldn't give him back River, or, Pepper, or Jane. Couldn't return all his armor, personal items, or send him back home. He couldn't even promise that he would be there tomorrow, even though he was sure he would be. But, he wouldn't say any of that, because they were the only ones left.

His hand slid and dropped back to his side and Steve looked ahead and - surprisingly - found himself smiling.

"What was there to blow up?" he glanced back down. "You turned everything off."

[myheartglows]

This. This was familiar and safe. Tony could throw his mind into banter and cruise on auto-pilot. "Purely precautionary," he countered, rolling his head over, eyes still lowered (if he met Steve's, then, he feared that he'd be laid open bare, that Steve could see in them: I need you here with me more than ever, and not because they were the closest of friends, but just because this weird thing between them was the one thing remaining). "Only I'm allowed to blow things up," he finished and stood. So, maybe, he thought, some of that old Tony Stark from home had stayed with him. Then, good. Good. He needed that.

[backin_theworld]

"Yeah, yeah." Steve nodded in obvious disbelief, almost as if he'd heard that one a million times over and they were still arguing about it. He walked forward a few paces and summoned the AI. "Hey, JARVIS, can we get some lights turned on please?"

After acknowledging, the room began to light up, but Steve kept his back towards Tony as he glanced around.

"You know, I kept the money you left. It's in an account. You can get what you need and start rebuilding all your stuff."

[myheartglows]

Tony opened his mouth to command the lights, but when Steve beat him to it, he pursed his mouth together instead and shot a traitor at JARVIS mentally, to which JARVIS answered never, sir. So maybe he was possessive of his things. Especially JARVIS.

He breezed past Cap on his way to Dummy's and Butterfingers's charging stations, and then paused, and, looking over his shoulder at first honestly surprised and then honestly confused, knitted his brow. "You kept it?"

[backin_theworld]

Steve nodded, his eyes now on Tony's back as he came into view.

Maybe Tony would have been surprised to learn it, but everything pretty much remained untouched. With the exception of the bike, though that still looked the same as when he got it, too.

"And all your clothes, personal effects, whatever you left behind went into storage here at the house. Both Jane and I decided that if you did come back, or another version of you, that it would be here." Steve told him.

[myheartglows]

"Oh," Tony breathed out. His eyes had a subtle wideness to them. Even after all these years in Bete Noire forging friendships and finding two people he dearly loved and who dearly loved him, it still surprised him when someone new showed that they cared. "Uh. Thanks."

[backin_theworld]

"No problem." Steve answered, not at all phased with the way Tony suddenly distanced himself. Or, maybe it wasn't really distance as opposed to needing to maintain some kind of masked strength; the kind of strength that preserved the reputation and dignity men held onto. Anyway, they'd had their breakthrough "talk" before he left five months prior. That was the turning point in knowing the real Tony Stark.

Without moving, Steve turned his head towards the door. "Anyway, I'll be upstairs if you need me for anything. We can talk more.." Steve swallowed. Saying 'when you get settled back in' was just wrong. If he had any kind of control, made a deal with someone to make sure Tony was never brought back, he would've done it without question.

But wishes like that were childish.

[myheartglows]

"In a couple hours," Tony cut in, and the eagerness of it turned his eyes away; he really wasn't that pathetic. It was just -- after he finished getting his possessions back into order, he didn't want to handle any crushing loneliness. And it wasn't like if he didn't keep an eye on Steve the guy would disappear, right? That was stupid. That was stupid to feel. Eye on him or not, if it wanted, the city would take him regardless. "I just need a few hours," Tony explained, and shrugged, going for nonchalant. "Two. Maybe three."

[backin_theworld]

"A couple hours, sure." Steve repeated, giving Tony a look over his shoulder.

Going anywhere wasn't really in the plan, anyway. Not now. But, he should call the club he happened to be doing security detail for that night and let them know that his crew would be working without him tonight.

He paused at the top of the stairs, and turned his gaze back towards where he knew Tony was. Despite everything, it felt good to have someone close there in the house again.

[myheartglows]

The moment Steve walked out of sight, Tony slumped back into the recliner, his bones heavy with the city. Even here, in his sanctuary, he felt it invading his body and mind: memories and losses and hurt. If he thought back on himself in his home world, so fresh now, that self seemed so impossibly above him. And he knew, he knew, that the Captain's remaining presence was the one thing keeping him afloat right then, because Tony still felt himself being dragged under, and all it took was one thought of River.

God, he had never even had a chance to miss her.

His throat closed up and his eyesight blurred, and Tony hunched forward with his face in his hand, and cried quietly, instinctively keeping it down to gasps and shudders, even though the shop was soundproof.

[backin_theworld]

It took a lot to busy himself with things; allow Tony that time to do whatever he needed to do. But, whatever he started, whether it was making coffee in the kitchen, or attempting to sketch something in his notebook while sitting out back, he found himself more distracted than usual.

Trying to put behind all the people that came and went while he was stuck there was practically impossible. Sure, he could displace the memories, keep them pushed back onto the edges of his mind and out of his direct thoughts, but he couldn't fool himself. That was a lesson he learned quickly.

But, after Jane left, and he was left in the house by himself, it was too hard.

He headed down to the gym, taped up his hands slower than normal and took position in front of the punching bag.

As he thought about each of the people he met there; Howard, River, Pepper, Tony, Hermione, Jane, Draco - all whom he invested a part of himself in getting to know, only to have taken from him - the punches became more aggressive.

The worst part was knowing that this was just another way for the city to get the best of him; break him down. It was another test, and eventually, it would return Tony home again leaving him alone.

Because there was nothing for him to go back to.

[myheartglows]

"It's gotten to you."

Tony's voice came out of nowhere to Steve, when actually he had been watching from the gym's entryway as those punches escalated. He drifted in without eye contact, heading straight toward the powder and tape for his hands.

The city, he meant. It had gotten to him long ago.

[backin_theworld]

Steve, not even breathless by that point, stopped and turned his head over to Tony. He shrugged. Not because he was uncertain, but more out of defeat.

"I've been here almost three years." he offered as explanation

[myheartglows]

Not even the infallible Captain America, Tony's mind supplied in defeat; not even Steve Rogers could withstand the city's taint. Eyes fixed on his hands, he rubbed the powder between them and then began wrapping. After a thought, he smirked self-deprecatingly. "It got to me in three months," he said, head rolling over to Steve.

[backin_theworld]

There were days where he could feel it more than others. He supposed after all he'd gone through there, it held off longer than it would have for many of the others who were brought there.

He landed a punch into the center of the bag, causing it to sway back with force. Catching it, he steadied the bag, and et up to take another punch, but spoke before he did.

"It hasn't got a hold of me completely yet." he pointed out before continuing.

[myheartglows]

All it needed was one crack, Tony wanted to point out, and it had found one. Just one crack to seep through and contaminate. More to himself (not that it'd matter with Steve's super hearing), Tony muttered, "Maybe not yet," and then plastered on a smile he didn't feel. "Has the bag replaced me so soon?" he asked aloud, stuffing down his despair.

[backin_theworld]

And hear him Steve did. Only he chose not to reply to it. It wasn't worth it when he knew there was truth to it.

Steve stopped and looked towards Tony; smile inching upwards at the corners of his mouth. "Nope, just waiting for you to get your hands taped."

He stepped out from behind it and made his way to the ring.

"After you," he said, holding the rope up.

[myheartglows]

"You're such a gentleman," Tony said as he hefted himself up and under the rope and bee-lined toward what was, while unsaid, considered "his" corner, opposite of where Steve generally started. He popped in the mouth-guard he stored in a container there and shifted his teeth until it settled neatly in. Using it meant he predicted, or intended for, the sparring to get messy.

[backin_theworld]

Steve, as always, went without reacting; instead followed Tony with his eyes until he was in his corner. He popped his own mouth-guard in and punched his fists together in a gesture to show he was ready.

He always gave Tony the first punch.

[myheartglows]

Tony gave him an almost-imperceptible nod. He shifted his feet into the fighting stance and rose his fists, gauging the best way to attack, lower his target's defense and strike a weak point: those months of sparring hadn't been for nothing, and now he had Happy's teachings from home, too.

Happy. Home.

Pepper.

His fists tightening unconsciously, Tony darted forward to the right in a feint, but then spun to the left and reared back his elbow to deliver a concentrated, quick jab at Steve's collarbone.

[backin_theworld]

It had been awhile since he fought with the other man, but not enough time to forget the reason behind these bouts. He taught Tony to channel his anger with the fighting; let him take it out on someone in a safe place, with a person who he knew.

But, in the months since Tony had disappeared, Steve found his own anger and bitterness grow.

The hit caught him off guard. That was dirty, and definitely something he didn't teach him. Though, immediately following his move, Steve took the opportunity on the return to use his left to clip the corner of his opponent's jaw.

[myheartglows]

A forearm, the same that jabbed, and a duck of Tony's head blocked the blow; his basic stance had changed, albeit subtly, to keep his arms closer in to his body when he sparred, a boxer protecting his front. Steve's teachings were still obvious, though, the foundation -- but Tony, as ever, put his own spin on things: the dirty elbow jab was from his own mind entirely. His free fist hooked right across Steve's jaw as well, not for power but to keep his partner off-balance.

[backin_theworld]

Ah, something had changed here, which took a few hits to realize. Tony was going for the shoulders up. At the contact with his jaw, Steve used a blind uppercut catching Tony in the stomach before bouncing back to create a bit of space between them. His opponent would have to take a step in to catch him again, making any move easier to anticipate.

[myheartglows]

The stomach punch caught Tony by surprise, and it knocked the breath briefly out of him, enough for him to close his eyes for just a second -- but in that second, he forgot whom he was sparring against and thought C'mon, Happy, that's the kind of dirty thing I'd do, before he opened his eyes and remembered: not Happy, not boxing, it was fair game.

Tony's face fell (again, another second) before it set into a blank focus, and his stance changed again, back to more of what STeve had taught him, of what Tony had learned from here in Bete Noire; his arms lowered to chest level and when he dashed forward he kept his upper back back and swept his foot into Steve's knee. It'd never knock the Captain down, but the intent was there, taught by Steve and to be applied against a more movable target.

[backin_theworld]

In his own thoughts; caustic ones of being in a place where that had taken him to parts of himself he refused to believe were ever there, Steve thought he was prepared for another dirty move.

Steve felt the pressure on the outside of his knee, causing it to buckle a bit. He leaned back on his left before throwing a lazy right hook.

[myheartglows]

Tony leaned to the right to avoid it, raising his left elbow at the same time to knock Steve's punch up and away from his body just enough for Tony to sneak in a stomach punch of his own with his right. Thought had no room here; it was action and reaction. If Tony could think beyond his next move, he might realize that this was Steve's way of offering comfort: the equivalent of River crawling into his bedside after a nightmare.