Chapter Text
Steve had stared down the barrel of an enemy’s gun more times than he cared to count, but somehow this one seemed to overshadow all of the rest. “Tony?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Obie--” Tony started to say, but the older man cut him off.
“I thought I made myself clear, Tony. Hand over that file. You’re not walking out of here with it.”
“Obie, what the hell is going on?” Tony demanded, and Steve wanted to shake him out of his daze. Something had felt off about Obadiah Stane, ever since he’d shown up outside Tony’s office that morning.
“I should think it would be obvious, especially to a genius like you.” Stane actually sneered, and Steve felt Tony flinch.
Told you not to come, Bucky muttered. They wouldn’t have gotten to the safe, you idiot.
Stop helping and start helping! Steve replied, frantic.
I’m working on it!
“I should probably thank you for figuring out the combination. What was it, by the way?” Stane looked at Steve and dismissed him with a flick of the eyes. Detective Ward, however, held the gun steady on them. Steve had taken one look at him, sitting in Tony’s office, and guessed former military, possibly special operations. The way he held his gun, which Steve estimated was most likely a standard issue for the armed forces (he couldn’t see much other than the muzzle) just confirmed it.
His stance also said, loud and clear, that he would shoot them down easily and with no remorse. Tread carefully, his instincts screamed.
“What does it matter?” Tony demanded, clutching the file to his chest. “Why do you want this?”
Like a memory, Steve was struck with a mental image. Howard, still living, pacing in front of the desk. Stane, much younger, sitting in the wingback.
Don’t be selfish… You don’t always make your best decisions when you’re drunk…
“You!” Steve realized. “You were the one all along?”
Stane glared at him, and Tony faltered. “What?” he gasped. “I-- I don’t-- I don’t understand--”
“You’re the cause of this! You’re the intruder Howard Stark was angry about!” Steve tugged on Tony’s jacket, trying to edge him back towards the safe -- with its feasibly bulletproof door.
Ward’s gun tracked him, and he froze as his lizard brain shrieked at him to stay still.
Stane’s eyes narrowed. “Howard Stark is dead.”
“Yeah, but he’s still around,” Steve answered, praying that Howard’s ghost was just taking so long so he could gather up energy. The room temperature was dropping, so that was a good sign.
“A ghost hunter. You hired a ghost hunter.” Stane laughed nastily, and Tony’s body thrummed with poorly-contained tension. “Good grief, California really fucked you up, didn’t it?”
Tony seemed to be too in shock to do much other than open and close his mouth, no sound coming out.
Steve, this is bad, Bucky said.
No shit! Steve shot back.
Stark is compromised, Steve. You need to be careful.
Compromised? Steve asked, but then Stane snapped at Ward, who glanced at him.
“Just shoot the ghost hunter,” Stane ordered. “We’ll see if we can reason with Mister Stark after that.”
Steve felt it then: Howard entered the room, his fury almost palpable, his energy thrumming.
The file folder dropped to the floor as Tony’s entire body shook. Steve could sense the exact moment that Howard forced his will and his way into his son’s body and took control. The dead man held himself differently from Tony, from the straight spine to the spacing of the feet. There were similarities between father and son, but it was the expression that gave it away.
“Oh, Obadiah,” Howard sneered, suddenly surging forward to grab Stane by the collar and yank him forward. “Come back to finish off the job, eh?”
Ward reacted quickly to the attack, but Bucky was faster. The door swung like someone had shoved it and knocked him in the shoulder, enough to surprise him so that Steve could jump him and make a grab for the gun, making sure not to get into the line of fire.
Meanwhile, Howard had Stane shoved up against the bookcase, accompanied by the sounds of tinkling glass and books thudding to the ground.
“You tried to have me killed!” Howard roared in Stane’s face, making the other man grimace and turn his face away. “You killed my wife! She had nothing to do with it, but I suppose it was just convenient. How much did it cost you to get the mob to make it look like an accident? How much did it cost you to get this kid here?” Howard jerked his chin at Ward, still struggling on the floor with Steve. “You rode my coattails for years, Stane! I was such a fool, to never see the snake in the grass, but I can see clearly now. A brush with death does that to a man, don’t you know.”
Stane’s face went white. “H-H-Howard--”
Steve managed to throw Ward off balance, but the gun went off a scant few inches away from his head. The bullet embedded itself in the floorboards as Steve managed to twist Ward’s arm away, cracking the detective’s wrist back and snatching the gun from him. He hit Ward hard in the face with the butt of the gun, dazing him, and threw him off. Ward tried to scramble back, but Steve whipped him on the back of the head, knocking him out.
The front door crashed open and someone shouted “Police!!” downstairs, but Steve was too busy pulling the clip out of the gun and tossing it aside. As the police cleared the house, Steve turned back to Stane.
And Howard Stark.
“You don’t get this,” Howard hissed, as Stane shook in what Steve wanted to believe was fear. “You don’t get my legacy. You don’t get anything.” He slammed Stane against the bookcase, cracking his head on a shelf. Stane’s eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped forward in unconsciousness.
Howard stepped back from his former business partner, his face twisted in disgust.
“Howard?” Steve tried, and the ghost snapped Tony’s head up to regard him. “Mister Stark?”
“You…” Howard tilted his head, looking him over. “You’re the one that was here before…”
“I’m here with your son, Mister Stark,” Steve said slowly, raising hands to show he was unarmed. “We came here to find out why you weren’t at rest.”
Howard laughed. “How can I rest, son? I’m the only competent man around, clearly.”
“Mister Stark,” Steve felt his heart began to pound. He refused to acknowledge it, or the fact that icy fear was starting to thread through his veins. “You’re dead. You’ve been dead for the past twenty years or so.”
“Nonsense!” Howard waved him off. “I feel fine! Could use a drink, even,” he muttered, turning towards the minibar.
“Don’t!” Steve snapped.
Howard looked at him, no longer genial. “Don’t tell me what to do in my own house, buddy,” he growled.
“It’s not your house anymore!” Steve barely kept himself from shouting. “It’s your son’s! You’re dead!”
“I told you, I feel fine!” Howard yelled at him. “You’re crazy, that’s what you are!”
Steve was at a loss. Tony didn’t seem to be conscious, or conscious enough to fight for control of his body. What do I do? he yelled soundlessly, at Bucky, at Jarvis, at whoever was close enough to hear--
Nothing, dear Captain, a female voice answered, gently brushing him. I can handle my husband. Might I borrow your form for a minute?
Steve hesitated. He’d never done it before, even though Wanda had reassured him that he could.
Maria Stark was amused at his hesitation. I’ll give it right back, she promised.
Steve looked at Howard, still furious and still in his son’s body. Do it.
There was a moment of haziness, and then it was like Steve had stepped back and was viewing it from the outside. Outside of his body.
Where Tony had stood before, another man had taken his place. Howard Stark, almost in the flesh. The resemblance was uncanny.
Where Steve had been standing, a dark-haired, slender woman. She had Tony’s eyes and chin, the same graceful hands and thin wrists. She held herself with the same easy bearing.
Maria stepped forward, borrowing Steve’s physical presence, and took Howard’s hands. “Howard,” she said softly. “Howard, it’s time to go.”
Howard’s eyes widened. “Maria?”
She smiled sadly. “We’re done here. He can finish what you started all those years ago, darling,” she murmured.
“Tony?” Howard shook his head. “He’s just a boy, Maria. He couldn’t--”
“He’s not a boy anymore, Howard.” Maria nodded at the window, and Steve saw the brightest light he’d ever witnessed. “He’s ready. We need to let him go.”
“But…” Howard stared at the light, clearly torn. “But there’s so much more to do--”
“Let him do it, love,” Maria took Howard’s chin in her hand and turned his face to hers. “We need to let him step out of our shadows. It’s his time now, not ours.”
Howard’s eyes grew misty. “We both died,” he said sadly.
“Yes.”
Howard closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “I guess dying isn’t so bad, if I get to stay with you.”
She squeezed his hand. “Let him go, Howard.”
“All right.”
They both began to fade, and Steve snapped back into his body. Suddenly, it felt like every muscle had turned to jello as he struggled to stay upright and catch Tony as he fell forward. Steve collapsed against the desk, Tony in his arms, and the last thing he saw before he blacked out, before Coulson kicked the door in and cleared the room, was Howard and Maria walking hand-in-hand into the light.
Captain Nicholas Fury regarded his top detective interrogating one of the most influential and powerful businessmen in Manhattan, flanked on the other side of the one-way mirror by Lieutenant Maria Hill.
“The evidence isn’t enough,” Hill said blandly, crossing her arms. “Even with the investigation firm’s cooperation, we still can’t explain in court what happened on that tape.”
Fury sighed. “Sometimes, it sucks to have those special gifts,” he said.
“Sir?”
“Those hunches, little nudges, little birdies telling you things.” Fury stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You can do the right thing, that you know is right, but the law doesn’t see it that way.”
Hill remembered, belatedly, that one of the many rumors surrounding her superior officer was that God Himself whispered in Fury’s ear. “You can only just do the best you can,” she said evenly. “Justify everything you do. And sometimes, just damn the consequences.”
Fury nodded, a wry smile twisting his mouth. “True. Good point, Lieutenant Hill.”
Inside the interrogation room, Stane was protesting his innocence, gesticulating wildly. He couldn’t have been the one to kill Ho Yinsen, because he “was having a heart-to-heart with my protogè, on the top floor of the building.” He jabbed a finger at Coulson, who merely listened in stony silence.
“See, it’s funny, Mister Stane,” Coulson finally said blandly, his face still neutral. “While you and Mister Stark were having that heart-to-heart in his office, on the top floor of the building, your code was entered into the archives vault that Mister Yinsen was abducted from. And, stranger - convenient, even - the security footage of that area of the building seems to have been corrupted. You forgot to mess with the cameras around Stark’s office, so we have you confirmed in that location, with a timestamp and everything. And our probie is an absolute technical marvel, to be honest. She managed to reconstruct a bit of data from what we recovered, even with that virus, and the figure in the video - even if his face is unclear - is definitely not you.” He leaned forward, and his expression hadn’t changed at all, but the utter level of menacing and danger rose to all-out boiling point. “Pretty good work on that alibi, Mister Stane. Too bad the keypad was separate from the other security systems and didn’t get wiped.”
“Hah!” Fury laughed. He sobered instantly. “We can’t get a positive identification on Detective Ward with that tape, can we?”
“He threatened with the intent to kill Mister Stark and Captain Rogers, aided Stane in breaking and entering, and was in possession of the gun that most likely killed Ho Yinsen,” Maria answered. “Fitz is still working on the ballistics, but from preliminary looks, it’s the same weapon.” Her mouth flattened into a tight line. “I can’t believe it. I approved Ward myself.”
“I wonder how many policemen are in the mob’s pocket in this district alone. We might have to clean house soon,” Fury mused without any humor in his voice. “...If Stane implicates Detective Ward, that is.”
And of course, after a few more minutes with Coulson - and, eventually, May - he did.
Tony woke up.
He sat up slowly, gingerly testing his extremities. “Jesus fuck,” he groaned, tugging one arm and realizing he had a saline drip in it. “Not again.”
He was in a hospital, from the looks of it. It smelled like industrial-strength cleaner and was the same sort of muffled quiet that came with a building full of sick and injured people.
“Well, look who’s back in the land of the living!” Rhodey poked his head in, and grinned widely at Tony. “You had us worried, Tones.”
Pepper appeared and rushed around Rhodey, carefully sweeping Tony up in a gentle embrace. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed, squeezing him. Happy and Rhodey joined her at Tony’s bedside. “When we got the call, we didn’t know what to think--”
“Pep--” Tony blinked. “Wait, where’s Steve?”
“He’s already checked out,” Happy answered. “Woke up before you did.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Just about seven or eight hours.” Rhodey smirked at him. “I think this is the longest you’ve slept since this whole thing began.”
Tony slumped back against his pillows and pouted. “I blacked out after Obie showed up--” He sat up again, causing the bed to creak loudly. “Obie--!”
“Shush, Tony, shhh,” Pepper soothed him. “Obadiah’s in police custody. Detective Coulson and Detective May arrested him and Grant Ward.”
“The camera. Steve’s minicam, the one on the desk.” Tony tried to get his thoughts in order. “It was recording the whole time.”
“Yeah,” Rhodey nodded. “Natasha Romanoff turned it over to police evidence right away, once she realized it was broadcasting. They have the whole thing on tape. Well, the important bits, anyway.”
“The police captain says Obie’s probably going to confess,” Happy added. “So no one will have to see the rest of it.”
“The rest of it?” Tony narrowed his eyes.
“We haven’t seen it,” Pepper reassured him. “Steve said you wouldn’t want us to. He said something about your father showing up.”
Tony let his eyes close, feeling weary all of a sudden. “Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t remember it, but he thought he’d heard his father’s voice from a long way off before he’d been knocked out. And, to be honest, he’d rather see what happened for himself before anyone else got to look. “Where’s Steve at?”
“Giving his statement to the police.” Pepper brushed his hair off of his forehead. “They’ll be wanting your statement too, from what we’re guessing.”
“Yeah, probably.” Tony cracked his neck and started to push himself out of bed, but Happy and Rhodey pushed him back down. “Can I at least put on some actual clothes?” Tony groused, and Pepper snorted and handed him her bag.
“There’s pants for you in there,” she informed him. “Get yourself decent, but don’t take out that IV. Your electrolytes were very low.”
Tony nodded, not intent on crossing her or any doctors’ orders. “Got it.”
She pecked a kiss on his cheek, Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder, and they left him to pull on the sweatpants they’d brought him.
Tony closed his eyes and sighed.
“I guess I brought this all on you, didn’t I?”
His eyes snapped open and he only barely kept himself from scrambling away from--
From the fully-formed apparition of his father, standing at the foot of his bed.
“Dad,” Tony croaked. “How--”
Howard smiled stiffly. “I had to… I couldn’t leave things as they were, when I.” He looked Tony in the eye. “When I died.”
Tony didn’t answer, so Howard kept talking.
“Look, I have a lot of regrets. I made a lot of mistakes. I’m man enough to admit that.” He made his way around the bed, and Tony swore that the temperature of the room was actually going up. “I was cruel to you, in life,” Howard said quietly. “And that is unacceptable. I’m sorry, son.”
Tony swallowed. “Dad…”
“You’ve got a long life ahead of you, understand.” Howard nodded at the bedside table, where his precious file was sitting. “Make the best of it. And your mother wants you to love, as much as you can.” He smiled, and it no longer had any edge to it. “Enjoy the ride, my boy. It’s totally worth it.”
He faded away in the dying sunlight, and Tony was left alone once more, fighting the urge to sob aloud. To distract himself, Tony tugged the file onto his lap and flipped it open again.
Again, the sheer creativity and meticulousness of his father’s work stunned him. “God, Dad,” he breathed as he scanned the schematics for a new large-scale energy generator. “What a legacy.”
He paused, feeling a stab of regret for all the bloodshed that had brought him to this point.
I’m finishing this for you, Dad, he decided. For you and Yinsen. I owe you that much, old man.
A week later, Natasha skipped into Steve’s office and dropped an envelope onto his desk. She was smirking.
Steve raised an eyebrow at her and ripped the envelope open. “It’s from Tony Stark,” he reported. “But you already know that.”
Natasha merely smiled at him, and Steve rolled his eyes. He pulled the cheque free and waved it at her. “Go ahead.”
She snatched it out of his hands and scanned the amount line. “Holy shit.”
Steve frowned and took it back from her. He looked it over and felt his mouth drop open. “That… that’s not what we agreed on--”
“That’s an extra zero, too!” Natasha’s eyes shimmered. “We’ll be able to upgrade the camcorders! We might be able to fix the van!”
“We can’t accept this,” Steve insisted. “We just can’t.”
“Steve, Stark is paying you for more than ghostbusting.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him.
Steve blushed furiously. “Take that and take care of it,” he said, shoving the cheque back at her.
She patted him on the head and practically danced out of the office.
Steve fought the urge to curl up under his desk and sulk, but he made himself unfold the letter enclosed.
Steve, it read:
You have no idea what you managed to do for me last week. There aren’t words to express what you’ve brought to me, but I’m hoping a few small actions will express my gratitude. We have begun construction of my father’s magnum opus, a full-size Arc Reactor. I’d like you to be there when we cut the ribbon and declare it operational. And consider every piece of tech you possess to be under an unlimited Stark warranty. It’s the least I can do.
- Tony Stark
Steve stared at the letter, then breathed out a long sigh. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. “Some big change in the wind,” he said to Bucky.
Oh ye of little faith, Bucky simpered back at him.
Steve flipped his Guide off and went back to his work on the website. The letter went into his desk, and he tried to put his most recent client out of his mind.
“I don’t get it,” Rhodey said, exasperated. “Your house is cleared out of ghosts, and your white ass is still parked on my pullout. Explain to me why you’re not willing to move back into the mansion?”
“I already told you, it’s too quiet.” Tony stuck his tongue out at his best friend. “Now that my parents are gone, the place is empty and all echo-y and stuff.”
Rhodey threw his hands up in the air. “I give up. You wanna bunk here? You pay rent.” He glared at Tony, then stalked away. Probably to the kitchen.
Tony snorted and drew the quilt around his shoulders. He made a face when the ringing in his ears started up again. What was causing that? If it kept up, he’d have to go see a doctor or something, ugh.
--aster Ton--
Tony froze, eyes wide, as the familiar voice popped into his mind.
--ster Tony--
Master Tony?
“Jarvis?” Tony said aloud, shock warring with panic in his chest.
You can hear me? Jarvis asked, amused. Finally.
Tony scrambled off the cot and found himself backing into the nearest wall with a bang. He looked around wildly, but he couldn’t see anything.
Master Tony, you’re making a fuss, Jarvis scolded. Don’t frighten Master Rhodes.
“Tony?” Rhodey reappeared in the doorway, radiating tangible concern. And Tony could feel it. “What’s wrong?”
Tony looked at his best friend and literally felt every emotion crossing Rhodey’s mind, from confusion, worry, and exasperation. Worry featured the most prominently, and--
--s he having some kind of episode? Rhodey’s voice wondered in Tony’s head. Jesus fuck, is this PTSD or something?
“Oh my god,” Tony said faintly, sinking to the floor. “Oh my god.”
Pepper buzzed his phone, and, distracted, Tony picked up. One thing he’d learned pretty quickly, it didn’t matter if the person was physically present or not. He was able to pick up everything, even from a text or an email. So, there was no use avoiding human contact. The voices persisted, and they were proving useful in the business world. “Yeah, Pep?”
“There’s someone here to see you.” She hesitated, and Tony picked up on her apprehension. Do I tell him? she wondered, and then fuck it, he probably can tell already. “It’s Rumiko.”
Tony felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Um.” He swallowed. “I guess you can send her in.”
“Okay.” Will he be all right?
Tony rubbed at his temples. “I’ll be fine, Pep,” he promised quietly.
I’m right out here. “Okay, Tony.”
The door clicked open, and she came in, smiling.
Tony got to his feet and, no words said, they embraced for the first time in over a year.
“It’s so good to see you,” Ru murmured, hugging him tightly. “You look so much better.”
He hugged her back. “Oh, Ru.” He buried his nose in her hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She laughed, a bright tinkling noise that never failed to raise his spirits. Pun not intended. “I’ll bet,” she teased. “I walk out of your life, and suddenly everything goes to hell!”
Tony smiled. “Well, yeah. I was always a mess without someone kicking my ass, and you did it best.”
Ru held his hand and regarded him, tilting her head. “Wanna get lunch?”
Right on cue, his stomach rumbled. “I guess so,” he said over her giggles.
She took him to a small bistro a few blocks away, and soon they were trading stories. Tony noticed she was carefully avoiding talking about the last month’s events.
When it came time to pay the bill, she looked at him over the rim of her glass. “You’re different,” she said, sipping at her water. “Much more zen.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “You think so?”
Ru snorted. “Well, okay, no. Maybe not. More like… you’re in a good place. You’re at peace.” She patted his hand. “That’s good.”
Strangely, Tony didn’t feel anything other than fondness and contentedness. He grasped her smaller hand in his and concentrated, but the spark that had once been between them was gone. Even to his new senses. “Ru--”
“No, you don’t have to say it.” She squeezed his hand. “Our time is past. It’s all right,” she said. “You’ve become a person I’m happy to have in my life, even if you’re just a friend.” She stroked her thumb over his, like she used to when they were together. “Can we just hang out sometime? Get away from all this dull business and political nonsense?”
Tony smiled easily, genuinely at her. “I’d like that.”
Steve’s head jerked up when the phone on his desk rang. He frowned; calls to the office were routed through Natasha’s phone up front. Very few people had access to his office’s private number.
He picked up and cleared his throat. “This is Steve Rogers, may I ask who’s calling?”
“Hey. Steve.”
Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Tony.” He struggled to keep his voice even. Over a month since the incident and the only communication they’d had was that letter. “Hey. How are things?”
Tony coughed. “Good. Things are good.”
“The mansion? Is it still… you know…?”
“Yeah, the mansion’s fine. Mom and Dad’re long gone.”
There was an awkward silence, and Bucky’s smugness was becoming unbearable, so Steve pressed on. “So is there something else you need?”
“Well,” Tony sounded embarrassed. “This is going to sound stupid, but…” he sighed. “I’ve been hearing voices. And they’re not schizophrenia voices or anything, they belong to people actually alive and stuff, and some dead. And they’re usually right.”
Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wow.”
Wow, Bucky agreed. Full-blown sensitive. Who’d’ve guessed?
You little shit, Steve said to him.
“Um, I can hear that,” Tony said, and Steve was startled into laughter.
“Yeah, so, um.” Tony let out a long sigh. “Is there a way I can turn it off? Because I will admit it’s useful and stuff, but I can’t be on all the time and sooner or later I have to sleep without a million people’s voices bombarding me, and we live in one of the most densely populated cities in the country, and I’m basically boned. You feel me?”
Steve fought to keep his laughter contained. “I feel you.”
“So… can you help me?”
This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship, Bucky said.
“Goddammit, Bucky,” Steve and Tony said in unison.
Bucky sent him a shrug, and Steve returned his attention to Tony. “Of course I can help you. It’s what I do.” The smile that spread over his face was genuine. “When do you want to start?”