Chapter 67
Avengers Tower, New York
September, 2011
Tony drummed his fingers restlessly on the table.
Everyone in the common room focused intently on Darcy, who sat in her office, listening intently to someone on the phone and scrolling through something on her computer. Tony chanced a look around. Loki was the only one who didn’t seem concerned, but he was certainly paying attention. He’d only come back about ten minutes prior from seeing Natasha and Barnes on their way, and now this. Even Jane had put aside the reams of data she’d been gathering on Loki’s use of voodoo magic (as Darcy called it) and was paying just as much attention as Bruce, Tony, Loki, and Clint.
Darcy said something and put down her phone. Tony tensed.
She pressed her fingers to her forehead for a moment, head bowed over the desk, seemingly unaware of how closely they all watched her. Or just choosing not to care. Tony was forcefully reminded of how much responsibility she was shouldering for the rest of them, despite her youth. Twenty-four? Twenty-five? Something like that.
Darcy dropped her hand, stood up, and marched out of her office. By the time she reappeared from behind the reams of paper and notes taped to part of the glass, she was back in business.
“Here’s what we know,” she said, sitting down in her usual place. “Steve went into the Triskelion. Steve left the Triskelion like a bat out of hell forty-one minutes later on his motorcycle, took down a SHIELD dropship that tried to stop him, and has since vanished into DC. SHIELD’s coordinating a manhunt for the “fugitive”, which is not going well, since as you can imagine the local law enforcement people are not happy about trying to catch Captain America. But there’s enough people cooperating–enough people who’ve bought into those bogus news stories about how we’re “dangerous rogue operatives” or whatever–that he’s in trouble.”
“So basically, we’re stuck here,” Clint said.
Darcy nodded. “We’re all too high-profile. If one of us vanishes, the timing’ll raise eyebrows.”
Tony pulled out an iPad.
“Whoa, Tony, are you betraying your company?” Clint said, laughing. “No more StarkPads for you?”
“The security on these is weaker than StarkPads,” Tony said. “It was easier for me to tweak because it’s not as well made. This thing is completely off the grid. Natasha and Barnes each has an iPhone that’s been similarly altered and linked to this guy.” He patted the opaque iPad. It was a pretty good piece of technology, if he was being entirely honest, but StarkPads were still better.
“Untraceable?” Clint asked.
“You insult me,” Tony said.
“So now we wait,” Darcy said softly, staring at the iPad. “We wait for someone to contact us. And until then, we can only keep going like we have to throw off suspicion, and hope our teammates don’t end up in a maximum security prison. Fantastic.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tony said. “I’m working full-time on the SHIELD hack. JARVIS has been running into some problems, so it’s taking longer than expected, but I’m close. It seems more important than ever that we get into their network and sort out exactly what’s going on.”
“Agreed,” Darcy said grimly.
Tony watched them disband. Darcy was working, as usual; he wasn’t sure where Clint was going but he was ninety percent sure it was to check on Maria, still recovering in the private infirmary several floors below. Loki was nowhere to be seen. Tony couldn’t find the energy to worry about the Asgardian at the moment. Bruce and Jane had already disappeared back to the labs; Jane was caught up in the data from Loki and Bruce had some other project going. Tony couldn’t bring himself to find interest in that either.
He found himself wishing he could go back to the VA.
Idiot, he thought irritatedly. They didn’t want you there. Spoiled billionaire showing up with PTSD from a few firefights? Ridiculous. Your trauma’s nothing compared to theirs.
But he had to admit that Sam Wilson’s advice had had a ring of truth to it. Tony had done some internet research and paid close attention during the three sessions he’d attended at the VA. It was helping. A little.
He squinted around the penthouse. This would be easier in his rooms, probably, but Tony couldn’t bear to be in there for long. He’d been sleeping on a cot in his engineering lab for weeks, or on the couch, or in his safe room, but in the case of the latter, even that was questionable. It was a space designed for him to share with Pepper, and Tony couldn’t help being reminded of that fact every second he spent in there. It only made him feel worse.
Guided breathing, he reminded himself. Guided breathing, then some exercise. You can beat this.
The words rang false, but that didn’t matter. Tony was used to lying to himself.