Two corpses we were, two corpses I saw

From Mathematics, Steve knew that the sum of probabilities of all possible events occurring is one. From Tony’s long winded rant late one night, he knew that the probabilities of them meeting each other again after a seventy year long separation which included one of them in a coma and the other one actually being dead, was zero. Or as close to zero as possible, which made the fact that they found each other again a miracle. An act of God or a twist of Fate, as Steve, lapsed-Catholic that he was, would say. 

Or a quirk of the Universe bringing them together, the mechanisms of which Tony hasn’t figured out yet, as Tony would say being the agnostic that he was. 

Steve’s point was their reunification was something that was mathematically impossible. Yet they beat those mathematical impossibilities and found each other, stayed together and were happy together. Steve wasn’t going to question this glitch in the Universe that enabled him and Tony to be together again. 

But what were the probabilities of Steve having to witness his love dying, not once, but twice? This seemed like an event that should have close to zero probability of occurrence, but here he was, standing on the seaside cliff that used to hold their house, now an empty bombed out husk of Steve’s former life. 

He could hear and feel all the ruckus going on around him. Romanov, Barton and Hill arrived on the Quinjet minutes after the missiles took out the Malibu mansion and Steve’s whole world away. His throat was sore from crying out for Tony as he witnessed the mansion that was their home crumbled to the ground. He was vaguely aware of Hill directing SHIELD agents around the wreckage to collect evidence. Barton was helping them and Romanov was interviewing Maya Hansen who looked shell-shocked as she took in the destruction around them. Perhaps “interview” was a euphemism based on how Romanov was curtly and succinctly asking her questions about her reasons to be here.  “Interrogating” would be better suited to describe what Natasha was doing. 

Steve couldn’t move, he found it hard to react to whatever questions they were asking him. He managed to give them the rundown of what occurred during the attack. Managed to tell them that there were three helicopters, shooting at them. Managed to tell them that he and Tony split up during the attack: Steve to rescue Hansen and Tony to neutralize the threat. He kept himself together during the first part of the briefing, but when he got to the part where Tony stayed in the crumbling mansion and it plummeted to the bottom of the ocean and Steve tried so hard, tried his damnedest to look at the skies, to look for that tell-tale red and gold streak that signaled Tony’s survival, his voice cracked and he hadn’t spoken a word since. 

He could feel Barton and Romanov shot him pitying looks, but he ignored them. They’ve been on a couple of missions together, and they worked well. But there’s still something that kept Steve from completely opening up and trusting those two. Perhaps the fact that they’re both spies, duplicity was in their nature. And Steve remembered Tony’s story about Natasha’s infiltration of Stark Industries back when he had Palladium poisoning and her reports after the facts. 

Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no. 

Foolish. Iron Man and Tony Stark were one and the same. You couldn’t have one without the other. One side of the coin, with Steve and Captain America on the other side of that coin. 

Steve walked to the edge of the cliff, the rubble of his home littering the otherwise pristine coastline of the Malibu beach. The Iron Man armors Tony had obsessively built over the course of seven months among the ruins. Steve left the SHIELD agents to their devices as he scaled down the cliffs to reach the beach. SHIELD has deployed a diver to look for Tony’s remains in the ocean. Steve’s heart clenched at the thought. He had met his demise in the cold embrace of the Atlantic, and now Tony was subjected to the same fate. 

Tony’s fear of the water was something he knew, and something they talked about at length. To know that Tony’s last moments were spent in the clutch of something he feared and dreaded only served to push him further into his grief and despair. 

Steve knew he couldn’t stay here forever, and he wouldn’t want to. He had a terrorist to find exact his revenge on. But he needed a piece of Tony with him. If he couldn’t wait here for them to find Tony’s body, then he’d take the next best thing with him. A piece of Iron Man. 

Among the ruined metal skeletons of Tony’s armor, miraculously there was one intact Iron Man mask on the sands of the beach. It was an unpainted mask, must have been part of the newer Mark series that Tony and JARVIS hadn’t gotten around to modify. Steve picked it up and stared at the stoic visage of the mask. He’d give anything to hear a sarcastic comment or a witty one-liner spoken in that beloved voice. But he couldn’t, so Steve settled for the next best thing. He hugged the Iron Man mask close to his chest, curled himself around it and mourned his lost love. 

Faint beeping noises startled Steve out of his reverie. It was coming from the mask. Looking around to make sure he was alone, Steve slid it on. It was dark inside, illuminated only by the orange rays of sunset filtering in through the eye slits. Steve exhaled slowly, imagining and feeling how Tony felt every time he put on the suit. His lover had confessed one time that being in the suit made him feel safe and protected. That nothing would hurt or harm him as long as there was a layer of metal between him and the rest of the world, and Steve understood better than most how it was to want to feel vulnerable when the whole world was counting on you to be strong. 

“Retinal scan confirmed.” A mechanical voice greeted him as the HUD lit up. “Captain Steven G. Rogers.” 

“JARVIS? You here?” Steve asked with trepidation. Of course, he forgot about JARVIS. Tony would have made sure JARVIS would still be around to accompany him. 

“Yes, Captain. I have a message from Mr. Stark, addressed to you.” 

“Sure, play it please, JARVIS.” 

A pause, statics and then the most beautiful voice Steve had ever heard graced his ears, “Steve, Steve it’s me. I’ve got a lot to apologize for, I know, and not a lot of time. So first off, I'm so sorry I put you in harm's way. That was selfish and stupid and it won't happen again. Also, it's Christmas time, our first Christmas in awhile and I know you secretly think the rabbit's too big. Sorry. And I'm sorry in advance because...I can't come home yet. I need to find this guy and you gotta stay safe. That's all I know.” 

A pause, there were rustling sounds in the background indicating Tony was doing something, “And I just stole a poncho from a wooden Indian, my life is a mess. But at least I still have you so it’s not so bad after all. I love you, Steve. I’ll be home soon, I promise. Please, please, just go to the SHIELD safehouse, stay put. Although I have a feeling I have a better chance convincing the Dalai Lama to eat meat than you doing that.” Steve chuckled at that. Tony was alive. Tony was alive! 

The message cut off after that, but it was fine with Steve. He had proof, he had hope. Tony was still alive and they were going to bring the Mandarin to justice together. 

“JARVIS, where is he?” 

“Rose Hills, Tennessee, Captain.” 

“Tennessee? What on earth for?” 

“Sir was investigating the terror attacks credited to Mandarin when he noticed that there were more instances that could be attributed to the Mandarin attack than reported.” JARVIS pulled up the holograph of the heatmap he and Tony were working on earlier for Steve’s reference, “Rose Hills Tennessee was the location of the very first incident with similar heat signature as the other Mandarin attacks.” 

“And he’s there now because…?” 

“Sir was already planning on flying there moments before Dr. Hansen arrived at the house.” Of course he was, Steve thought ruefully, “The flight plan has already been mapped when Sir drowned into the ocean. I made the executive decision of initiating the flight plan since it has been planned initially.” 

“Thank you, JARVIS. You saved his life,” Steve told the AI warmly. 

“I am merely performing what my primary programming dictates: ensuring Sir’s continued and prolonged survival.” JARVIS answered matter of factly, yet underneath that Steve could detect the warmth and affection underlying JARVIS’ words. 

“How is he right now, JARVIS?” 

“Per my last observation, Sir had a case of mild hypothermia. Unfortunately I seem to have lost contact with my counterpart that’s installed in the armor currently accompanying Sir. The armor might have sustained significant damage during the fight and during Sir’s flight time to Tennessee, Captain.”

Mild case of hypothermia? Now the line about stealing a poncho from an Indian made sense. Steve just hoped Tony managed to find some kind of shelter in the meantime to recover and fix the armor. “Tony’ll find a way to fix it. I got no doubt about it.” Steve said with conviction. Now that he knew Tony was alive, the fire was back. He was ready for the next battle. “In the meantime, what do you say we go interrogate a certain botanist about her timely appearance in our lives?” 

“An excellent idea, Captain.” 

If there was one thing that Tony could do without for the rest of his life, it was drowning. Seriously, how many times in one lifetime did one person need to experience drowning? Tony would argue the answer to that should be zero. He drowned once as a teenager, caught in a riptide. Next time he drowned was during his three-month sojourn to Afghanistan, and now this. 

But at least this time he could safely say that as he fell, he protected the most important thing in the world. Steve. Steve was safe and he had to stay that way. And Tony would make sure of that by finding Mandarin and bringing him to justice. 

“Sir, Sir, that’s the emergency alert triggered by the power going below 5%.” JARVIS’ accented voice roused out of the slumber he unwittingly fell into and Tony woke up mid-air,his body hurting to kingdom come, and flying in the middle of the night towards the ground. 

“Whoaaaa!!!” Tony shrieked as he clipped an oncoming truck that swerved upon impact. His body, thankfully still encased in the armor, came hurtling to the ground and bounced on the snow covered ground, causing him to get thrown several yards into the dense grouping of trees on the side of the road where he finally stopped. 

Groaning in pain, Tony flipped himself over before noticing the ground he was laying on, “Snow? Where are we, upstate?” 

“We are five miles outside of Rose Hill, Tennessee.” JARVIS answered him promptly. 

“Why?? Not my idea! What are we doing here? This is thousands of miles away. I gotta get Steve! I gotta--” Tony admonished his AI. 

“I prepared a flight plan. This was the location.” JARVIS countered. 

“Well, who asked you?” Tony asked rhetorically, knowing in the back of his mind he probably had something to do with that. But first things first, “Open the suit, J.” 

“Sir, I may be malfunctioning.” JARVIS warned him, his voice crackling over the speakers, but Tony’s AI dutifully performed his command. As the suit disassemble, the wintry cold Tennessee air started to seep in to his pores, Tony felt chills crawled up his spine, his entire body shivered as it tried its best to warm him and Tony groaned. 

“Oh, that’s brisk.” Tony blew on his hand in an attempt to warm them up. As he looked around him, at the falling snow and those already on the ground he realized he was way out of his depth. Maybe opening the suit was a bad idea. 

“You know what, I think I--” 

“I need to go to sleep now, Sir.” JARVIS announced, his tone taking on the sleepy tone of a toddler as he and the suit powered down. 

“No, JARVIS, don’t.” But JARVIS powered down, leaving Tony to fend for himself for the first time since his inception. 

“Don’t leave me, buddy.” Tony whispered helplessly into the cold evening air. 

Now what, Stark? 

Tony was alone, in a state he never visited in his entire life, completely out of his depth with injuries on his face and it felt like also along his torso. Steve was so far away from him now, in Malibu, probably thinking Tony was dead or something and mourning for the happiness he had enjoyed and lost once again. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Tony needed to reach him. Needed to let him know that he was okay, and that he was going to make things right. And that they would get to spend their Christmas together complete with the slow dance because he still haven’t gotten around to teach Steve how to slow dance. 

His armor was heavy as fuck, he found out as he pulled the dead weight of gold-titanium alloy across the icy ground. Tony walked towards a random direction of the town and wasn’t disappointed when he was an abandoned Texaco complete with a payphone and a statue of a Native American covered in a poncho. 

Thinking that he definitely needed the poncho more than the man, Tony took it off the statue and propped up the armor on the side of the payphone booth then he dialled. 

“Stark Secure server. Now transferring to all known receivers.”  

“Steve, Steve it’s me. I’ve got a lot to apologize for, I know, and not a lot of time. So first off, I'm so sorry I put you in harm's way. That was selfish and stupid and it won't happen again. Also, it's Christmas time, our first Christmas in awhile and I know you secretly think the rabbit's too big. Sorry. And I'm sorry in advance because...I can't come home yet. I need to find this guy and you gotta stay safe. That's all I know. And I just stole a poncho from a wooden Indian, my life is a mess. But at least I still have you so it’s not so bad after all. I love you, Steve. I’ll be home soon, I promise. Please, please, just go to the SHIELD safehouse, stay put. Although I have a feeling I have a better chance convincing the Dalai Lama to eat meat than you doing that.” 

Message sent, Tony moved on towards the town. It looked like your standard All-American small town complete with a water tower in the distance. Mercifully there was house at the edge of town, unlit, signifying the lack of people at home and a garage. Tony broke down the garage door, and it turned out to be the perfect garage indeed. Disassembled car in the corner, a couch on side and plenty of tools strewn around. Perfect. 

With great effort, Tony dragged and heaved the Iron Man armor inside and onto the couch. He never imagined the armor would be this heavy. All those times he saw Steve move the armor around for him in the workshop and barely breaking a sweat, he’s seeing that in a new light. Just how strong was Steve? This was something that they need to investigate later. Thoroughly. Preferably with minimal clothing. 

“Let’s get you comfy,” Tony rearranged the armor, placing its arms on the arm rest of the sofa, “You happy now?” He sat down on the couch next to the armor, twisted its head to look forward then sat down next to it. 

Assessing the work table, Tony decided to make use of his time by working on his implant. If he wanted to find Mandarin and go head to head with the son of a bitch, all his gears need be in tip top condition. But first, there are glass shards in his arms he needed to take care of. 

Just as he was settling down with a pair of pliers to remove shards of glass embedded in his arms to get to his implant, a voice interrupted him, “Freeze!” it said. 

Tony looked up to see boy no older than ten with a potato gun pointed at him and a severe expression on his face, “Don’t move.” the boy said. 

“You got me,” Tony raised his arms up in surrender, “Nice potato gun. Barrel’s a little long, Between that and the wide gauge, it’s gonna diminish your FPS.” 

The boy fired the gun at a glass bottle that was perched on a wall, Tony looked on unimpressed, “And now you’re out of ammo.” 

“What’s that thing on your chest?” the boy asked. 

“An electromagnet. You should know, you got a box of ‘em right here.” 

“What does it power?” 

Tony hesitated. Showing this kid Iron Man would put him at risk, but right now he needed an ally and this kid seemed as good as any. Tony moved to the side exposing the Iron Man armor seated on the couch to the kid. The beaming smile on the kid’s face told Tony everything he needed to know. 

“Natasha, Clint, sitrep,” Steve commanded once they arrived in one of the conference rooms at SHIELD’s Los Angeles field office. They decided to leave Malibu for a more comfortable place to regroup and plan out their next move. They brought Maya Hansen with them as a person of interest, currently was sequestered away in an interrogation room while agents tried to corroborate her stories. 

“Still no signs of Tony or the Iron Man armor in or near the oceans surrounding the mansion, Cap,” Clint reported somberly. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened between the Captain and Stark during the Battle of New York. All he knew was that they emerged out of the battle in a relationship with each other. 

Now, Clint had seen some “heat of the moment” attraction that happened between agents, but the way those things work were usually exactly the way they sound. Heat of the moment. There one second, gone the next. There’s nothing heat of the moment about Steve and Tony’s relationship. For one, they’d been together for the last seven months, Steve moving out to California to be with Tony, rejecting any SHIELD provided housing. For two, they were inseparable. Steve went to accompany Tony to Stockholm to receive his Nobel prize and Tony came to DC or New York with Steve whenever had SHIELD or VA businesses. There were numerous photos of the couple on tabloids, on date nights, on grocery runs, at charity events. Their relationship, forged in the heat of battle and strengthen in the aftermath, was something Clint didn’t expect, yet at the same time made perfect sense to him. 

“Tony’s alive,” Steve announced to the astonishment of his teammates, “I received an encrypted message from him earlier tonight. He’s alive.” 

“I’ll be damned,” Clint muttered. Natasha looked as impassive as she usually was, but the small quirk of her lips conveyed her relief at the news. 

“Where is he?” Hill asked. 

“Rose Hills, Tennessee. Tony was investigating the Mandarin attacks before we were attacked. He had been planning of flying solo there and had a flight plan made which JARVIS used to save his life. Tony believes that Rose Hills was ground zero, the initial attack location.” 

“On what grounds?” 

“The similarity of the heat signatures. There might be more attacks than the nine attacks we’ve known so far. What have you gathered so far from speaking with Hansen?” Steve addressed Natasha as the one who managed to interrogate Hansen thoroughly. 

“She claims that the reason she visited Tony was to warn him about the impending attack.” 

“And how would she know about the attack beforehand?” Steve’s eyebrow quirked up incredulously. 

“She suspected her boss to be working for the Mandarin.” 

“What? Who’s her boss?” 

Natasha continued, “Aldrich Killian of Advanced Idea Mechanics. Hansen has been working on a serum called Extremis capable of rewriting the DNA’s genetic code, essentially harnessing the body’s untapped potential. Her serum is quite possibly the closest anyone has ever managed to recreate the superserum, Steve. She sold her research to AIM, thinking it was a scientific think tank that wanted to use Extremis for regenerative medicine.” 

“That’s not what they did, was it?” 

“No,” Natasha shook her head, “What wasn’t disclosed to her was that AIM was a military-funded think tank. They were more interested in weaponizing Extremis than developing it for altruistic purposes.” 

“A new breed of super-soldiers,” Steve muttered, exhaling angrily the words Colonel Phillips had spoken to him and his fellow recruits a lifetime ago. Seemed the US Army hasn’t given up on its mission in creating an army of super-soldiers. Steve supposed he couldn’t really blame them, they got short changed with only getting one super-soldier, and one that disappeared into an iceberg for seventy years to boot too. 

But something that Natasha said jumped out at him, “You said her boss is Aldrich Killian? Why does that name sound so familiar?” 

“Probably because he paid Pepper Potts a visit earlier this week. Asking SI for some funding for his Extremis project. Pepper refused him on account of the project having a high potential of being weaponized.” Hill looked up from her StarkPad, flipping the display around for them to see surveillance photographs of Killian entering SI’s LA headquarters. 

Right. Tony did mention something about an old boyfriend of Pepper’s coming to SI and getting Happy in a tizzy. At first they chalked it up to Happy being his paranoid self, but now it seemed like Happy was right in being suspicious of the man. 

“So, Killian visited Pepper to secure new funding, got rejected. Then a few days later his employee visited Tony. it’s too convenient to be a coincidence.” Clint added. 

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Steve folded his arms across his chest, assuming what Tony dubbed as the “Cap is done with your bullshit” stance, “especially not when they ended with blowing up my house sky high and my partner almost dying. There’s a concerted effort to either force Tony to join the Extremis project or to eliminate him from the competition because SI refuse to take part in the project. And I intend to figure out which one it is.” 

“Clint, Natasha, stay here and keep working on intel for AIM. I need to know everything about Aldrich Killian, his connection with the Mandarin and what Extremis does. Maria, coordinate with the DoD and the White House. We might need War Machine on stand by. And somebody needs to let Dr. Banner know that his services might be required soon.” 

They all nodded their assent to Steve’s commands, eyes trained on him, focused on the mission ahead. 

“What about you, Cap?” Clint asked. 

“I’ll bring Hansen to the safe house. If she knows as much about Extremis as she says she does, I want Dr. Banner to pick her brain and get us as much intel on what this serum does. And then I’m heading to Tennessee, I gotta go see about a guy.” 

Stomach marginally full from the tuna sandwich Harley procured for him and warmer now in the old clothes Harley’s dad left behind, Tony and the kid walked towards downtown Rose Hill. His aim was to visit the crime scene and ground zero, the first place where the blast occurred. It had been made into a memorial by the townspeople. Flowers, candles and memorabilia from the dearly departed was placed on the ground. It lend for an eerie atmosphere, a place of savage violence transformed into a serene altar where the memories of those who lived were preserved.

Tony guessed it helped those left behind to deal with what happened. The scene of the crime was located in a hidden corner of downtown, smack dab against a wall. There were five shadows, silhouettes depicting the victims’ last moment. Five shadows, yet the reports claimed that there were six victims. 

“What’s the official story here? What happened?” Tony asked Harley. 

“I guess this guy named Chad Davis used to live roundabouts. Went to the army, got a bunch of medals. And one day folks said he went crazy. You know, built a bomb. Then he blew himself up, right here.” Harley explained, sitting on the snow covered crater in the middle of the alley, must be where the bomb was detonated. 

“Six people died, right? Including Chad Davis?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That doesn’t make sense. Think about it: six victims, but only five shadows.” 

“Yeah…” Harley conceded, “people these shadows are like the marks of the souls going to heaven. There’s none for him because he’s, you know...going to hell instead.” 

“Do you really believe that?” Tony challenged him. 

“Well that’s what everyone said.” 

Tony nodded slowly, not buying Harley and the townsfolk’s explanation one bit. The romanticized version might go along better to help the traumatized townspeople to deal with the tragedy that befall them. But there’s a more logical explanation here: only five people died in this attack. And whoever survived was the one Tony was looking for.  

“Do you know what this crater reminds me of?” Harley said, apropos of nothing. 

“No idea. I don’t...I don’t really care.” 

“It reminds me of that wormhole in New York,” the kid plowed through with his insensitive questions, not knowing the impact of his words was having on Tony, “Say, how did you manage to get out of that wormhole anyway?” 

Unbidden, images of a black void, alien army and a supernova flashed in Tony’s mind. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Tony told the boy, he could feel his heart rate steadily climbing up. 

“Are they coming back? The Aliens?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. Can you stop? Remember when I told you I have anxiety issues?” To put it mildly. 

“Does this subject make you edgy?” 

“Yeah, can I just catch my breath for a second?” Tony tried to remember the breathing exercises he watched on YouTube when Steve wasn’t home. In, hold for five seconds, out, then repeat. 

“Are the bad guys in Rose Hill? Do you need a plastic bag to breathe into? Do you have medication?” 

“No.” 

“Should you be on them?”

“Probably.” 

“Do you have PTSD? Are you going completely mental? Should I stop? Do you want me to stop?” 

Tony stared at the boy silently, chest heaving with the anxiety that welled up within him. God, this sucked. He needed Steve, he needed his sole anchor to sanity. He needed something to ground him but he had nothing. Nothing to hold on to and he was lost, out here on his own. 

A whole lifetime of being alone and seven months of cohabitation was enough to show Tony that he was only half alive for the better part of his existence. 

“You did it now, didn’t you? You happy now?” Tony abruptly stood up and left the boy sitting on the crater. He needed to go, he needed to get out of here, find someplace where the trauma and the memories wouldn’t caught up with him. 

“What did I say?” Harley called out to him as Tony ran out of the alley towards the main street. Tony stripped off his outer jacket, his body felt too hot all of a sudden. He was sweating bullets and his face felt like it was burning. He collapsed on the sidewalk, snow cushioning his fall and he grabbed a handful of snow and eagerly pressed them onto his cheeks. A sigh of relief escaped him as the cool sensation of the snow brought him back down to Earth. 

“What the hell was that?” 

This kid, Tony thought annoyedly. Then he chucked a handful of snow at Harley’s much to the boy’s annoyance. 

“Hey!” 

“Your fault. You spazzed me out.” the kid didn’t even look remorseful after what he inflicted on Tony. What a little asshole. “Okay, let’s get back to business. Where were we?” Tony put his hat back on and stood back up. “The guy who died, he got relatives? Mom? Dad? Siblings? Mrs. Davis, where is she?” 

“Where she always is.” 

“Finally. You’re being helpful.” 

Mrs. Davis apparently has become the number one patron at Walker’s, the only bar in Rose Hill. Tony walked towards the bar, accidentally bumping into a young woman with scarring on her face who seemed to be too interested with holding Tony’s hand. 

Shaking off the strange encounter, he entered the bar and quickly found Mrs. Davis, sitting despondently in one of the tables, her son’s dog tag clutched in her hands as she sipped her scotch. 

Tony approached her cautiously, “Mrs. Davis?” he started, “Mind if I join you?” 

“Free country,” she shrugged. 

“Sure is.” 

“Where would you like to start?” Mrs. Davis said, her tone defiant. 

“I just want to say I’m sorry for your loss. I want to know what you think happened.” 

She was silent, seemingly mulling over something in her mind before she slid a thick folder across the table to Tony, “Look, I brought your damn file. Take it and go. Whatever was in here, he wanted no part of it.”

 Tony opened the file. Inside were pictures of Chad Davis on his tours in the Middle East, a curious piece of report with the words “MIA” written on the top right corner in black Sharpie and a picture of Chad Davis and another private. “Taggart, J” was his name. 

Taggart. The name dawned on Tony. The dog tag found in the explosion that injured Happy was this man’s. 

“Mrs. Davis, your son didn’t kill himself and all those people,” Tony told her, “I guarantee you he didn’t kill anyone. Somebody used him. As a weapon.” 

Mrs. Davis looked astonished at Tony’s words. “You’re not the person who called me after all, are you?” 

“Actually, I am.” the girl that bumped Tony outside the bar slammed down a badge on the table between them. 

Tony gave himself a second to consider whether this was a good thing or not. When the girl wrenched his arms behind his back and cuffed him, he decided it was a bit not good for the baddies to incapacitate him. 

When the girl started glowing like the fireplace at the Malibu mansion and killed the sherrif and his deputy. Tony decided that it was definitely not good. 

Ugh, all he wanted was to celebrate his first Christmas with Steve after being separated for seventy years. He couldn’t believe he had to deal with this shit instead. 

“What happened?” Maya asked rhetorically as Steve drove them towards the SHIELD safe house, “Fun fact: before he built rockets for the Nazis, the idealistic Werhner von Braun dreamed of space travel. He stargazed.” she chuckled sadly. 

Steve side eyed her, keeping her focus on the road but not wanting to let his guard down on the woman. “As I understand it, he did achieve space travel. After the war.” Him and other Nazi scientists who were granted asylum. Steve still didn’t know how he felt about his country granting asylum to scientists who clearly aided the Nazi war efforts. 

Maya nodded, “Do you know what he said when the first V-2 hit London?” 

“The rocket performed perfectly. It just landed on the wrong planet.” Steve answered her. Maya’s look of surprise amused him, “I was around when the V-2 hit London, Dr. Hansen. I read the briefings.” 

“Right. We all began wide-eyed. Pure science. Then the ego steps in. The obsession. And then you look up and you’re a long way from shore.” 

“You can’t be too hard on yourself, Dr. Hansen,” Steve told her, “You gave your research to a think tank.” 

“Yeah, but Killian built that think tank on military contracts.” 

“That’s exactly what SI used to do. And while a lot can be said about the defense contracting industry, not all of SI’s works under military contract resulted in weapons. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still glad Tony got out of the weapons business and into the clean energy initiatives. I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t judge yourself too harshly. Just focus on picking yourself back up. On cleaning up the mess. That’s all we can do right now, keep moving forward.” 

“Thank you, Captain. I really appreciate it.” Maya shot Steve a tremulous smile, “and I’m sorry about what happened to Tony.” 

Steve nodded in acknowledgment, not responding verbally. They remained silent until they reached the safe house. Maya got out of the car and Steve went to escort her to the door. 

“You’ll stay here until SHIELD deems it safe for you to be moved to another facility. If it’s alright with you, I would like you to work with Dr. Banner on the Extremis, I believe--” Steve cut himself off as felt pinpricks stinging his neck and he dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks. 

“Dr. Hansen, run…” he rasped out to the wide-eyed Maya standing, rooted to the ground, in front of him. 

Footsteps came closer and a hand grabbed Steve’s face off the ground for him to come face to face with Aldrich Killian, smarmy and slick in his grey suit and slicked back blonde hair. Steve snarled, his face twisted with fury. 

“Hi, Cap,” Killian greeted him with condescension, “Don’t bother trying to think the superserum’s going to metabolize the tranquilizer. They were developed specifically for our Extremis test subjects. They’re pretty potent, should keep you down for a bit while I have a little chat with my colleague here.” 

Steve grunted in response. His limbs felt like they were encased in cement, he couldn’t move. He was helpless, at the mercy of this egotistical maniac that tried to kill his Tony. 

“Mind telling me why you were at Stark’s mansion last night?” 

“I’m trying to fix this thing. I didn’t know you and the master were going to blow the place up.” 

“Oh, I see. So you were trying to save Stark when he threatened us?” 

“I’ve told you, Killian, we can use him. Look, if we want to launch the product next year, I need Stark. He just lacked a decent incentive, and now he has one.” Maya gestured towards Steve, lying prostrate on the ground. 

Killian seemed to find a valid point in Maya’s argument as he knelt next to Steve, a contemplative expression in his face, “Hmm, I wonder...what do you think would happen if we mix the superserum with Extremis? Do you think we’ll stabilize it, or just make a bigger explosion that the ones we already made? Shall we find out, Captain Rogers?” 

Steve spat on him.