Chapter Text
Tony groaned in annoyance as he pulled himself through the manhole, the smell of piss and shit still in his nose. It was worth it, though, to escape that prison. They were maybe hours, possibly a day, away from executing him for crimes against the sect, against Hydra. He replaced the manhole cover and darted into a nearby alley. He quickly, carefully, made his way through the night, climbing the wall surrounding the City to escape. He had been planning his escape long enough that he knew exactly where he needed to climb and when to miss the guard rotation. He ran then, no longer needing to be as quiet or careful once he was beyond the city’s walls, but he was still watchful. He knew a Strike Team would be after him soon enough, Pierce couldn’t let it be known that someone escaped their dungeons. Hydra was so feared because many thought them omnipotent, and if word got out that someone managed to escape their previously inescapable dungeons, they would lose at least some of that fear. The fear was needed for Pierce to maintain the tight control he had over the City.
As he trudged through the forest, Tony thought about how he’d ended up in Hydra’s dungeons to begin with. Since Hydra had taken over the City decades before, it was nearing 40 years since they’d taken over, the citizens had quickly found their freedoms greatly reduced. First, it was mandatory service on the Strike Teams. All men over 16 years of age were conscripted into service for Hydra, unless they were found to have a high level of proficiency in another field – like being an engineer, farmer, or some other trade that Hydra could make use of. That law was implemented immediately after the takeover. Then, 10 years later, it was making artists second class citizens. If you were found creating art – paintings, music, literature, theatre, anything of the like – you were remanded into the custody of Alexander Pierce, leader of Hydra. After that, it was either serve Pierce and his desires or be sentenced to the dungeons with the probability of hanging. Five years after that, other artisans – the bakers, smiths, jewelers, tailors, carvers, and weavers – found their businesses monitored by Pierce and his Strike Teams. If he didn’t like what you were doing, or found you weren’t serving Hydra to his standards, you were sent to the dungeons or killed. He ruled the City with an iron fist. It was after another ten years that he closed that fist around the engineers and inventors. If they were creating things, Pierce wanted them creating for him. For Hydra. That was when he turned his attention to Tony.
Tony Stark, son of renowned engineer and inventor Howard Stark, had followed in his father’s shoes, taking over the business when Howard disappeared 10 years before. He knew Pierce had to have something to do with it but didn’t know how to prove anything. His father had been working on something that would help them rise against Hydra. When his father disappeared, Strike Teams and Pierce himself had come to their home to confiscate anything they could in the name of protecting the City. Tony knew it was bullshit. Hydra didn’t care about the City, only about their rule and how to maintain control over the people. After that, he knew they would be keeping a closer eye on him, so he managed to hide his father’s journals and their off the books experiments. He used a supply journey to mask what he was truly doing. He was only allotted so many out of City trips without bringing more scrutiny upon himself, so it was when he needed more supplies that he packed his saddle bag with his more controversial experiments and his father’s journals to hide away in the forest should he ever have need of them. He thanked his past self for the forethought of packing those away with other supplies – some money and well-preserved foodstuffs, among other things. Sure, it would just be jerky and hard candy, but that was better than nothing. If he remembered correctly, he had also stored an empty water skin and a couple of sets of tunics and leggings and a spare pair of boots.
His downfall had come just two weeks ago when he’d had a visit, at his home, from an unknown man asking for assistance. The man did not provide his name, nor information on where he’d come from, and was covered almost completely by his cloak. He’d said that he knew Howard and had met Tony once or twice when he was a boy and had known then that Tony had the potential to be an even greater engineer and inventor than his father. Tony had allowed the man inside and found out that he needed help escaping the City. He escaped years before but had returned for some supplies he needed for an important project. He explained that he had been able to get into the City easily but leaving was nigh impossible with the guards checking everyone as they left. Hydra had implemented mandatory searches on those leaving the City but welcomed them in with little thought. That practice had never sat well with Tony. The man told Tony that Pierce had been searching for him for some time due to his work in his younger years. He had refused to allow the man use of his inventions more than he’d already done before that point. It had been one of the reasons he’d escaped to begin with. Tony had wanted to ask more, but the man refused to share more details, beyond how he’d found the engineer to begin with. Tony was known in certain discrete circles for helping people in need, particularly in escaping the City and Hydra. It didn’t take long to walk the man through an escape route once he’d told Tony that the butcher, Happy Hogan, had told him how to find him. Happy had been working with Tony for years now and both wanted nothing more than to see the fall of Hydra. It was after he helped the man escape that the Strike Teams came and arrested him, using their surveillance of him as reason enough. He’d been kept prisoner in their dungeons for two weeks. Two weeks of daily interrogation sessions. Of daily torture. Pierce, himself, had even come to see him the day prior. Tony had been surprised to find that the man wanted more information on his inventions than about the mystery man. It had only been due to Pierce’s surprise visit that he had finally found his escape through the sewers. The guards had been distracted by the man’s visit and had been less attentive than usual, giving him enough time to remove and slip through the grate in the floor. He’d carefully returned the grate, so as not to give himself away. That had given him a little extra time to get away.
As he rushed through the forest now, he tried to remember where he’d hidden his cache of supplies. It hadn’t been too close to the City, because he’d worried that someone could have stumbled across it. He made his way deeper into the forest, toward the inn he knew was there. He remembered using the inn as a landmark for hiding his things, so that was his starting point. Once he oriented himself to the inn, he would have little trouble finding his cache. Or so he hoped.
It was dark by the time he found himself at the edge of clearing housing the inn. He stayed at the edge of the tree line and looked around, not wanting to walk out into the open before scouting for Strike Teams. He saw a stable boy walking a horse around the yard, a few men sitting around a table in front of the inn, torches illuminating them as they laughed and smashed mugs together before drinking deep. There were another couple of men leaning against the building, smoke rising from the glowing cigarettes between their fingers. It didn’t look too busy, and he didn’t see any obvious signs of Hydra. He took a hesitant step forward before he heard rustling from behind him. He bit back a yelp and scurried toward the back of the inn, where he knew he would find a well. He made quick work of pulling up some water to rinse his hands and face, drinking from his cupped hands after cleaning himself of the day’s dust. Only once he knew he was at least clean to the eye did he make his way inside. He made eye contact with the innkeep at the bar, who slowly made his way toward him, away from the rest of the customers.
“Long day?” The innkeep asked, using a clean looking rag to dry a mug, glancing around the room casually, “We’re expecting warmer temperatures tomorrow.”
Tony smiled tiredly, “Wasn’t exactly cooler weather today, though, I’m sure.”
“No,” the innkeep agreed, “but winds from the east are expected by noon, bringing in warmer weather.”
Tony almost wanted to laugh. The network of those who helped citizens in need used a clear code that could easily be mistaken for small talk about the weather. Winds from the east. Strike Teams from the City would be here by noon. More than one if he was saying it would be warmer. He’d hoped it would be longer before they were sent out, though he’d still been keeping an eye out for them on his journey here. It sounded like maybe a scouting party, or more than one, was here earlier and they had found something or knew something that had them recommending Hydra come personally. He gave the innkeep a nod of thanks, “Any chance I can beg a room for the night? I can be gone by sunrise.”
The innkeep gave a short nod and reached under the counter, bringing out a key, “Room under the stairs is available. If I’m not here in the morn, you can leave the keys in a mug at the end of the bar. Or, if there’s a flame haired woman here, you can give them to her.”
Tony nodded, “Many thanks, friend.”
He turned slowly, using that time to scan the room. Other than the dark haired innkeep, he found his eyes drawn to a dark blonde haired man of average height at the darts board and a pair of men, one with long blonde hair and a long braided beard, the other with long, straight black hair, clean shaven, sitting in one of the booths, mugs of ale in front of them. All three men seemed to be more alert than the rest, seeming to scan the room like the innkeep and Tony. He wondered why before shrugging it off and moving to his assigned room. It was a room made for a quick and easy getaway, situated with a direct line to the front and back doors as well as across the hall from the kitchens, which surely had its own exit. He had started to settle down when a knock came on the door. He cautiously moved toward the door, calling out quietly, “Can I help you?”
“Bruce, the innkeep, sent me with some hot water for washing, sir,” a feminine voice called quietly in response.
He slowly unlocked and opened the door, seeing a flame haired woman on the other side and opening the door farther, “Thank you, please set it on the dresser.”
The woman raised a brow but obeyed and entered the room, gently setting the steaming jug of water down beside the basin that was built into the dresser, gesturing toward the basin, “The basin is connected by pipe to the outside, so you may wash in the basin and remove the plug to drain it.”
Tony’s eyes widened in glee as he moved closer, “Truly? I’ve heard of such things, but never seen them before. The City is very…closed off to modern influences and outside ideas.”
She met his eyes and nodded, “Yes, unfortunately it is.”
They lapsed into silence for several moments as Tony put the plug to stopper the drain and poured some of the steaming water into it, grinning widely when none seemed to leak out. The woman pulled a bar of soap out of her apron and started to hand it to him, but he shook his head quickly, “Please, set it beside the basin. I don’t like being handed things.”
She did as requested with no question, not even a strange look. He appreciated it. She cleared her throat and leaned in closer, speaking softly, “Bruce might not be at the bar in the morning, but he said he’d told you it’s safe to leave the key with me.”
Tony nodded, “Yes, he said to either leave it in the mug at the end of the bar or to give it to you if you’re behind the bar.”
“That’s right,” she told him, “I’m Natasha, I run the inn with Bruce.”
“Is he your husband?” Tony couldn’t stop himself from asking.
Natasha rolled her eyes, “Does a woman have to be married to her business partner for it to be believable?”
“No,” Tony quickly responded, “I just…wasn’t sure.”
“No, he’s not my husband,” she told him with a grin, “My husband is the lazy good for nothing playing darts. That’s why I need a more grounded business partner.”
Tony laughed, “Makes sense.”
“Can I get you some clean clothes?” She offered, making her way to the door again, “No offense meant, but you smell like shit.”
Tony couldn’t help but laugh again, finding her forthrightness refreshing, “Please, if you have some available that would fit, I’d appreciate it.”
“Clint, my husband, looks to be the same size,” she told him, “I’ll fetch something and will return soon. I’ll announce myself at the door. If anyone else comes along, stay silent. The fewer people that know about you, the better. Your photo is already on some wanted posters along the main road.”
Tony locked the door behind her and moved back to the basin, removing his shirt and throwing it into the corner, before he began to wash himself with the hot water and soap. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard a quiet knock on the door. He draped the drying cloth found folded next to basin around his neck and moved to answer it, stopping when he remembered Natasha’s warning.
“It’s Natasha.”
He unlocked and opened the door, relieved that it was her. She ignored his half naked state and set the clothing on the bed before grabbing his filthy shirt from the corner of the room. She glanced back at him and sighed, turning away and closing the door all but a crack, “Take off your pants, too. I won’t look, just toss them on the floor here and I’ll take them out and burn them. We can’t leave it as evidence you were here.”
Surprised and impressed by her forethought, he hesitated only minutely before taking off the rest of his clothes until he was standing bare. He moved his hands in front of his crotch and cleared his throat, “I appreciate everything you’re doing and risking helping me.”
Natasha just picked up the clothes and glanced to him, her eyes kind, “You’ve done far more for others, Stark. We’re just part of the team.”
He locked the door after she left and moved back to the basin, removing the plug and watched the water drain with a childlike glee. This is what they needed in the City. Everything was stagnant without progress like this. He plugged the basin again and filled it with half of what was left in the jug, deciding to leave the rest for the morning. He washed again, this time more about feeling clean than washing away the filth. He unplugged it again and watched the cloudy water drain away, feeling as if his strength went with it. He clumsily dressed in the provided clothing, noticing the pants fit well, but the shirt hung off him a little. Natasha’s husband must have broad shoulders, he thought as he fell onto the bed, sleep taking him as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Tony woke to a single knock on his door. The footsteps didn’t even pause as they continued down the hall. His wake-up call. He’d said he would leave by sunrise. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before washing in the basin. This time, he didn’t take time to enjoy the marvel that was the drain, but just washed the sleep sweat from his arms, neck, and face. He grabbed the now empty pitcher and bar of soap before unlocking the door and removing the key. He gently shut the door behind him as he scanned the hallway, still as he tried to hear movement from nearby. He only heard one set of footsteps that sounded like it was coming from the common room and walked toward it. Natasha was behind the bar, wiping down the countertop, when he came into the room.
“Morning,” she greeted softly as she set down her cleaning rag before walking toward him, “I hope you slept well.”
He smiled sheepishly, putting the soap, pitcher, and key on the counter, sliding the key toward her, “Best sleep I’ve had in weeks.”
“I’m glad,” she smiled, picking up the key and busying herself under the counter, “Anything I can get for you before you head out?”
Tony shook his head, “I have somethings near enough that will help me on my way.”
She brought out a thin rag and wrapped up the bar of soap, sliding it back across the counter, “For the road, then. You be safe, alright? You need anything, you know where to come. We’ve some contacts if you need to go across the sea.”
Tony nodded, smiling softly at the concern, “I appreciate it. I have a place I can hide out for a while. I just need to get there.”
Natasha nodded, “Then good luck.”
She walked away and went back to cleaning the counter after depositing the pitcher in the sink behind the bar, as if Tony had never been there. He glanced at her once more before making his way to the back door. The dawn haze made everything look golden as he looked around, making sure no one was watching him as he escaped into the forest, not seeing the scout leaning against the building.
An hour into his journey, he came upon his cache, hidden in a hollowed-out tree. He pumped his fist in the air, celebrating his find, as his other hand dragged the pack out of the tree. He dropped it to the ground and dug through it, finding the food, water skin, clothing, and money as expected. Buried under all of that was his father’s journals and a few experiments he’d not wanted Hydra to get their hands on. One was an experimental energy source that he hadn’t quite figured out yet but knew he could if he had the time to devote to it.
“Look what we found here, boys.”
Tony froze at the voice. He knew that voice. Rumlow. He was one of the guards who had tormented Tony when he was in the dungeons. Worse, he was one of Pierce’s most devoted men. He turned slowly and saw several men spread out around him, knives and flails at the ready. That meant they wanted to play. If they were serious, they would have their swords out. Tony swallowed heavily. His escape was very short lived, but he knew he wouldn’t go back. He couldn’t. He’d rather they kill him now than be kept caged, or worse, back in the City. He stood slowly, “I won’t let you take me in.”
The man at the front of the group had dark hair and a rough, craggy face. Rumlow. He grinned maliciously, “That would’ve been boring, Stark. Me and the boys want to have some fun, glad you’re so obliging.”
Tony turned, picked up his pack, and made a run for it. He heard the echo of curses behind him as he dodged the men surrounding him, running as fast as he could, deeper into the forest. It wasn’t long before one of the men tackled him to the ground. He thrashed about, throwing his elbows and kicking his legs until he managed to get free. He scampered to his feet and took off again, not sure if he was going the same direction as before anymore, just desperate to get away. He tripped over tree roots and fallen branches but managed to stay on his feet. Then he was hit. Pain ripped through his shoulder. He glanced back and saw the handle of a knife sticking out from his back. His distraction caused him to trip. He fell, then, groaning at the pain, not only from hitting the ground, but from the knife shifting. He heard laughter as the Strike Team closed in. He closed his eyes at the satisfaction on Rumlow’s face. He hated that look.
“Looks like we’ve got you now, Stark,” Rumlow bragged, laughing loudly, “Maybe we’ll let you up again and see how much longer you can run. The hunt is half the fun, right boys?”
The men around him cheered. Tony kept his eyes closed, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of his surrender.
“What the hell?”
He heard shouts from all around him and then heavy hoof beats. He opened his eyes and saw a cloaked man riding toward them, his horse bearing down on the Hydra men, sword out and ready. Tony rolled to the side, away from the horse as it rode by, watching as the stranger slashed his sword at the men around him. The Strike Team members went down quickly under the stranger’s assault. One of the Hydra men managed to grab onto the stranger’s cloak, and it fell away, revealing a man with brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, a rough beard, and what appeared to be an arsenal of knives strapped in various locations. What really caught his attention was the man’s left arm. He had, apparently, ripped off the left sleeve of his tunic, and, from what Tony was awed to see, the arm revealed was made entirely of metal, with a red star on his shoulder.
Tony’s eyes fell on Rumlow when he heard a choked sound from his direction. There was such fear on the other man’s face that he wasn’t sure what to think about this newcomer. The metal armed stranger swung down from his horse and made short work of the rest of the men, distracted as they were by his appearance and not at all on par with his sword work. Rumlow came back to himself and pulled out his own sword with a growl, stepping toward the stranger when his back was turned. Tony let out a cry of warning, but before the stranger could even turn around, a large golden bird flew at Rumlow, screeching and clawing at any and all available skin. Rumlow cursed, dropping his sword as his arms moved to shield his face. He tried to attack the bird, but it didn’t allow him the chance, carrying on its attack. The stranger finished the last of the Strike Team members before turning to Rumlow. He gave a loud, short whistle and the bird flew to his now outstretched metal arm. Rumlow took that moment to pick up his sword and run. The stranger, not seeming bothered by the man’s escape, turned and clicked his tongue at the bird, smiling as the bird nuzzled its head against his cheek.
Tony watched the oddly affectionate pair and cleared his throat, slowly standing and brushing the dirt and leaves from his clothing. He met the stranger’s eyes, shuddering at the almost blank look in them, and stepped forward, “Thanks. For saving me like that. I appreciate it.”
The stranger grunted in response before lifting his flesh hand and gently petting the bird’s head. Tony watched, curious at the behavior, “What kind of bird is that? Did you train it yourself? It’s great that it protects you like that.”
The man smiled down at the bird, so small that Tony almost missed it, before turning stony eyes to Tony, “He is a hawk.”
“Oh,” Tony said, surprised at the gruff, deep voice, not sure how else to respond, “Sorry. He.”
They lapsed into silence as the stranger gathered his cloak from where it had fallen, grunting when he realized it was ruined and tossed it back to the ground. He walked over to his horse and rubbed its nose, speaking quietly to it before petting the hawk again. Tony slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way closer to the stranger, “I’m Tony. What should I call you?”
The stranger turned back to him, eyebrow raised, a look of confusion on his face, “Why would you call me anything?”
“Well,” Tony began, hesitantly, realizing now that he was closer that the man was tall, several inches taller than himself, “You just destroyed all but one member of one of Hydra’s Strike Teams. I’m thinking that means we might be on the same side here.”
The other man barked out a harsh laugh, “What makes you think I’m on anyone’s side but our own?”
“Our?” Tony asked, confused, “You have companions?”
The stranger glanced down at the hawk, affection back in his eyes, “Yes, I do.”
Tony nodded, “Right, your buddy the hawk. What about having someone else on your side? A human? Me, perhaps?”
The other man raised a brow again, “What makes you think I’d like the company of a human?”
Tony blinked, then considered it, “I mean…maybe not. I know I don’t really, but maybe we can help each other?”
“How could you help me?” The stranger asked, leaning back against the horse, absently petting his hawk, “What makes you think I’m any better than Hydra?”
“You saved me?” Tony offered, then gestured excitedly toward his bag, “Also, I’m an engineer. I can build things. Hydra kind of has it out for all of us, but since they passed that law about engineers needing to work through them, it’s made any progress impossible. Hydra doesn’t want us creating anything unless they can use it as a weapon. But I still build things. Maybe I can build you something?”
The stranger looked at him as if he could dissect him with his eyes, trying to weigh his words, determine if Tony was speaking the truth. He hummed, considering, “What do you think you could build that I would want?”
“Anything!” Tony offered excitedly, “You saved my life, I owe you. I’ll build anything.”
The stranger looked down at his hawk for a long moment before stepping closer to Tony, assessing again, “What do you know about serums?”
Surprised by the change in subject, Tony shrugged, “I mean, my practical knowledge isn’t great, but I have a lot of theoretical knowledge. Plus, I have my dad’s notes, and he was well known for his serums.”
The stranger jerked back, eyes wide, “Who is your father?”
“Was,” Tony corrected, clearing his throat, “He’s…dead now. Probably. Disappeared 10 years ago, and that’s long enough that he’s been declared dead. Howard Stark.”
The stranger gasped, “Howard Stark? You’re…his son?”
“Yes?” Tony was confused now, “I just said that.”
The stranger turned to the hawk again, staring into his oddly bright blue eyes for a few moments before nodding and petting him gently, “I…Howard is alive. He’s been…trying to help us for years now, but hasn’t… I know where he is.”
Tony felt his heart beat faster, “H-he’s alive? My dad’s alive? Where? Why didn’t he come home? What happened? How long have you known him? Can you take me to him?”
The stranger nodded once, “I can take you to him.”
Tony rushed forward and threw his arms around the other man’s neck, earning a sharp peck for forgetting about the bird, but it – he – just flew to rest on the pommel of the horse’s saddle. The stranger held his arms out to his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, before moving them to awkwardly pat Tony’s back and pushing the shorter man away. He cleared his throat and looked away. Tony saw the light pink of a blush on his cheeks and laughed, “Sorry, it’s just…my dad…I never thought…I thought Hydra must have…”
“He’s probably not the man you knew,” the stranger warned him, “He’s…Hydra did do something to him, and he’s not the same as he was.”
“But he’s alive!” Tony countered, joy radiating through him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his father all these years. He’d been 25 when the man had disappeared, but they had always been close. They had always experimented together and come up with new ideas together, helped people together. Since Tony’s mother had died, it had just been the two of them, and Howard didn’t want to disappoint his wife in the care of their son, so he taught him everything he knew, and hoped he would be better. Tony shifted back and forth on his feet, eager to see his father again, “Are we leaving now? How long will it take to get there?”
The stranger rolled his eyes and turned to tighten the straps securing his saddle bags to the horse, “We can leave now. It will take about two weeks to get there. That’s as good a place as any to lie low.”
“Great!” Tony grinned widely, “Now, what do I call you? Since we’re going to be around each other for the foreseeable future.”
The stranger glanced over at the hawk before answering, “James. My name is James.”