Chapter Text
It’s well after 2 am when Tony finally pushes his chair back from the large bank of monitors in the Avengers Compound workshop, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he should sleep. But he’s so close, he can feel it…
He’s been thinking he’s been close for months now, torturing himself that if he just manages to push through one more hour, he’ll have the breakthrough the entire team has been waiting for since Steve Roger surrendered himself to HYDRA and vanished off the face of the earth.
Tony buries his head in hands. For all he knows, the shadow organization has taken Steve somewhere off-world. Because that’s a thing that can happen now. Aliens and other planets and magic—greater forces he doesn’t know or understand, let alone know how to fight.
This would usually be the moment where he’d feel Pepper’s reassuring grip on his shoulders, massaging out the tension, gently chastising him to go to sleep and approach the problem with fresh eyes in the morning.
God, he misses Pepper.
His hand brushes his phone, and for a split second her name is on the screen, his finger over the ‘call’ button. Then he remembers the time, and snaps the phone shut. She probably sleeps better at night now, without a partner who wakes her with night terrors and anxiety attacks, or who spends long hours in his workshop to avoid coming to bed at all.
It’s easier when he works late anyway, when the rest of the team aren’t around. Tony insists it’s because they get in his way and slow him down, but a small part of him knows it’s because he can’t stand the looks of distrust on their faces every time he’s nearby. Maximoff avoids him entirely which Tony is grateful for, not needing any more reminders of his “Merchant of Death” days or visions of Chitauri and wormholes and—
You could have saved us. Why didn’t you do more?
He should sleep.
Tony spins his chair over to the makeshift kitchenette he’s set up in the workshop and pours himself yet another cup of coffee, then reviews every scrap of information the team has collected on the remains of HYDRA for the ninth (or was it the tenth?) time that night.
He had come straight back the moment he’d received Natasha’s call. Three words—“HYDRA has Steve”—and he’d been in the air and back to the Compound within a day. But even though they were all on the same mission, even though they all knew the stakes, the aftermath of Ultron still hung in the air between them. Even though they needed him there, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling of being unwanted around the Compound.
Things were most tense between Tony and Sam. Tony had snapped at him more than once when the former pararescue wouldn’t stop buzzing around his workstation, insisting he help and being frustrated that he couldn’t. Natasha had taken over leadership of the Avengers in Steve’s absence, and had promptly benched Sam until the breaks in both of the Falcon’s arms had fully healed, then assigned the rest of the team to reconnaissance or cleaning up other messes around the globe. Just because their leader is absent, does not mean their usual avenging duties are.
Tony and Sam have never seen eye-to-eye on much anyway, and Sam's attempts to be empathetic and understanding when Tony snaps at him don't help, even though they know that they want the same thing—Steve to come home.
Rhodey checks in with him the most, often steering Sam out of the workshop when the tension between him and Tony becomes unproductive. Rhodey always shoots Tony a reproachful look on their way out, and Tony would roll his eyes back at him. He knows Sam's going through a lot, blaming himself for Steve’s capture, but if he really wanted Steve back he’d get out of Tony’s way.
Tony winces at the thought. Of course Sam wants Steve back. They all do. Clint had even come out of retirement to add an extra pair of sharp eyes to the search.
“FRIDAY?”
“Yes, Boss?”
Tony rubs his temples, trying to ignore the splitting headache that’s either from lack of sleep or caffeine overdose or both. Dehydration?
“What do you need?” FRIDAY’s calming Irish voice echoes through the large room.
I need to find Steve. I need Pepper. I need…
“Nothing,” Tony says finally. “Just—fuck!”
He flinches when he sees Steve Roger’s face reflected at him through one of the monitors. Then it’s gone.
“Shit. Okay. Hallucinating is where I draw the line. FRIDAY, have everything exactly like this when I come back down in the morning, okay? Don’t let Wilson mess with anything if he’s around.” Tony turns to leave the lab. “Hey, FRIDAY?”
“Yes, Boss?”
He doesn’t even know how to phrase what he wants to ask. Run a test to see if I’ve completely lost my mind? Tell me how to make it stop and now?
Because there’s no way Steve Rogers, the man he’s been searching for for months, is just magically in his workshop and, besides, there’s no way he’d ever look like that.
“If this is a hallucination, then this is a weird glimpse into my subconscious,” Tony mutters as he surveys the apparition blocking the door.
Steve’s usually tidy blond hair is long and unkempt, brushing against his shoulders. Most of his face is covered by a thick, metal mask, but there’s no mistaking those boy scout blue eyes, even as they look at Tony without a hint of recognition.
“FRIDAY,” Tony says, his voice calm even as his exhausted brain finally starts to catch up to what his eyes are seeing. “Get me a suit.”
“On it.”
Tony is going to beat the shit out of whoever’s sick joke it was to dress Steve in white, like some avenging angel. The uniform is a twisted parody of the classic Captain America costume. The white of the armor is outlined with strips of silver, made from the same thick metal as the mask. The red, white and blue shield has been replaced with a wicked black shine, the HYDRA emblem replacing the iconic star.
“Hey, Cap,” Tony calls, even as he reaches for the panic button under his workstation. “Long time no see. I gotta say, I’m not really a fan of the rebranded packaging.”
The shield slams into the table an inch from his hand, shattering the glass tabletop. Tony winces as shards of glass cut into his hand, but he has bigger priorities right now.
“FRIDAY—” is all he gets out before every light in the workshop goes out and plunges him into darkness.
He yells in shock as something slams into his foot before recognizing the familiar embrace of the Iron Man armor wrapping itself around him, shielding him. The repulsors flare to life as the backup generator kicks in, lighting the workshop in an eerie red glow.
Steve is gone.
“FRIDAY, alert the team.”
There’s no response. “Cap?” Tony calls into the workshop. “Now is not the time for hide-and-seek. You’ve been playing that for months and, gotta say bud, it’s getting a little old.”
He doesn’t see the shield coming. It slams into the back of the Iron Man helmet, making Tony’s ears ring. He spins around to where it came from only to have it slam into his knees, knocking him to the ground.
He grits his teeth. “Okay, then.”
Then he’s in the air, getting as high as he can to get a vantage point over the whole workshop and he sees—
He and Steve aren’t alone. A woman is standing on the railing mounted around the workshop walls, lording over the place like royalty. The black hair doesn’t disguise that she’s somewhere near fifty, and Tony’s eyes narrow at the intricate symbol stitched into her militarist jacket that marks her as a HYDRA general.
He’s so focused on this unexpected visitor that he almost gets hit a third time by the shield, only swerving when an Irish voice in his ear calls, “Boss, duck!”
“Nice of you to join the party, Fri.” He spirals up to where the HYDRA general is smiling at him. “I don’t suppose we have more guests incoming?”
“My systems are currently confined to the suit. I am working on contacting others in the facility, but my frequencies outside the workshop are being comprised.”
“Okay, keep working on that. Any facial recognition on female Buck Turgidson over there?”
“None, Boss.”
“Worth a try.”
He lands on the platform across from her, raising a repulsor, when Steve seems to drop out of nowhere, placing himself firmly between Tony and the general. Steve’s white armor has turned red in the lights of the backup generator, reflecting off those odd silver strips in the suit and making them look like blood.
Tony flips the faceplate up, eyes on Steve. “I know Romanoff has been trying to set you up on dates, Rogers but, gotta say, I don’t think this one’s your type.”
“Stark,” the woman greets him. “I have been waiting a long time for this moment.”
“Not a very original opening villain line, but hey, I guess someone’s got to appreciate the classics. Cap, seriously, get out of the way.”
The woman steps forward and idly runs her hands through Steve’s over-long hair like she’s patting a dog.
“Don’t touch him,” Tony warns her, all playfulness dropped.
“I am General Katrin Riegal,” the woman introduces herself. “And I am here to—”
“Yeah, I’m going to stop you there,” Tony cuts her off. “Whatever HYDRA wants, you’re not getting it. The suit, an arc reactor, Ultron, whatever. There is a team of superheroes in this building who are not going to take too kindly to you treating their fearless leader like a lapdog.”
He turns his back on her, looking around the workshop. “Not that they’re going to be needed because, if you don’t surrender to me in the next, let’s say, thirty seconds, I’m going to knock you right off this railing. And it’s not a fun fall without one of these.” He taps his suit. “Your choice.”
Riegal’s hands tighten in Steve’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat to Tony as she moves close behind him, using him as a shield. “Go on then, Stark. Shoot through him.”
Tony winces as the repulsor starts up, but holds his ground. “You sure about that play? Because it’s going to hurt you a lot more than him. And I think Cap would take a few bruises and broken bones over being HYDRA's errand boy.”
“You will stand down, Stark.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Enjoy the fall.” But as the distinctive whir of the repulsors start up, Steve collapses to his knees, his body jerking and spasming as sparks fly over the metal stitched throughout the suit and oh god over the mask on his face as well—
“Stop,” Tony snarls at Riegal, sending more power into the repulsor. “Now.”
The electricity coursing through Steve’s body only intensifies. Panic flares in Tony’s chest and he steps towards Riegal, whose calm expression doesn’t alter.
“I will throw you across this room, HYDRA lady. Shut it off."
“If you want it to stop, lower your weapon,” the general says.
Tony’s about to snap back at her when his brain finally puts the pieces together. He lowers the repulsor. Steve grows still, the last sparks of electricity fading.
Riegal snaps her fingers and then Steve is clambering to his feet again, stumbling slightly before he moves to block Riegal with his own body once more. Tony marvels that Steve hasn’t made a sound the entire time, before realizing that the mask is on so tight around his mouth that he isn’t able to. “I’m glad you understand, Stark.”
Tony has never hated anyone more than at that moment. Not even Killian nearly killing Pepper beats the level of rage that’s coursing through his chest. This is their home, damnit. How dare she attack them here, like this? “I hurt you, I even threaten to hurt you, Rogers gets zapped. Wonderful. Very evil, well done. I’m guessing something equally horrible happens if you die.”
“The charges switch on and won’t switch off until he’s dead.”
Tony changes his attention to Steve, ignoring the panic that statement ignites. “Cap? You in there, buddy?”
The blue eyes are vacant.
“Hold on,” Tony assures him. “I’ll get you out of this. Okay?”
Nothing.
Tony looks back at Riegal. “Fine. I’ll bite. What’s the deal?”
“The deal?”
“What do you want for Rogers? I’m not saying you’re going to get it, but I’ll hear you out. That’s more than most people get from me.”
“The Asset is ours now. That is non-negotiable.”
“Steve isn’t anyone’s. He’s been making that clear since the forties. Right, Cap?” Tony gets nothing back but the blank stare, cursing that it's him that's been thrown into this situaton. Of all the people who could break through to Steve Rogers, he would put himself near the bottom of that list. Why couldn’t Natasha be here, or Sam? “So. What do you want?”
“To watch.”
Tony barely has time to register the words before there’s a blur of white and silver and he’s falling backward off the platform. Instincts kick in and he gets himself in the air before he hits the workshop floor, faceplate clicking back into place as he tries to shake the super-soldier clinging to his waist, reaching for the arc reactor that powers the suit.
“Sorry about this, Cap.” Tony twists in the air, shaking Steve off. He winces as he hears the impact, but the next second is dodging the black shield as it whizzes past his head, clipping the armor.
“Always hated that frisbee,” Tony grumbles as it flies at him yet again. This time he catches it, tossing it into a far corner of the workshop and turning around in mid-air, putting everything into the thrusters as he barrels towards Steve, colliding with him at full force and slamming him into the back wall of the workshop. Steve’s head hits the wall with a thunk, and Tony places one glove over his friend’s head and repeats the action. “Naptime, Cap.”
Steve grabs Tony’s wrist and forces him back, breaking Tony’s grip on his head and twisting savagely, trying to break Tony’s wrist. The armor prevents any damage but Steve breaks out of Tony’s grip and ducks underneath him, eyes on the shield in the far corner of the workshop.
“Sorry, bud. That’s a big fat nope." Tony turns in the air, grabbing Steve’s shoulders and tossing him across the room. Steve rolls to his feet, blank eyes turning to Tony before he runs at him. Tony has a split second to decide; fly upwards out of Steve’s reach, or forward into his path.
He flies forward. Steve meets him head-on, driving Tony backward despite the power in his thrusters. The two wrestle with each other, and Tony curses the sound-proofing he set up in the workshop after one too many midnight explosions. “How are you going on waking the kids, Fri?”
“I am unable to perform actions outside the workshop. I am trying to reboot.”
Steve suddenly shifts Tony’s grip, catching Tony off guard as he's slammed into the ground, one arm twisted behind his back. Steve straddles him, slamming a fist into the faceplate.
“Okay,” Tony gasps. “How about running an algorithm that figures out just how much damage I can do to a super-soldier without it being fatal?”
Steve’s second punch is enough to knock the faceplate askew, causing the displays over Tony’s eyes to flicker and then fizzle to nothing. He just catches FRIDAY’s voice saying “I am trying to reboot.” before the third punch sends the faceplate flying.
Tony’s free hand catches Steve’s next punch before it can break his nose, pushing back against the super-soldier. Tony forces Steve back, trying to throw him off, and they lock eyes and it’s probably just Tony’s wishful thinking that he sees a spark of something there. “Cap?”
The pressure on his fist lessens a fraction.
Tony wrenches his other arm free and reaches for the mask over Steve’s face, intending to rip the damned thing off. The moment he pulls at the metal, a rush of electricity courses through Steve, traveling up Tony’s suit and into the arc reactor.
“Right, don’t touch the mask. Got it,” Tony mutters to himself, before using the extra power in the arc reactor to send Steve flying off him. Steve crashes into one of the workshop tables, sending metal and glass flying.
Tony uses the moment to glance up at Riegal. She hasn’t moved, still watching from the railing, rapt in the action. Then Steve is on his feet, moving towards Tony again, any hint of recognition in his face gone.
“Sorry about this,” Tony mutters as he launches himself into the air and out of Steve’s range, before loading up his repulsors and firing at his friend.
The blast knocks Steve off his feet, destroying another section of the workshop as the soldier tumbles backward and slams into the back wall. He stumbles to his feet as Tony prepares for a second blast. Steve’s bleeding from a cut in his forehead, the blood trickling down over the metal mask. Steve grips one the shards of broken glass from the workshop wreckage, and Tony frowns because the move makes no sense and suddenly Tony is praying that he didn't make Steve hit his head a little too hard.
Then Steve places the shard of glass against his own throat, drawing blood.
Tony freezes, unsure of how to proceed, as Steve looks at the repulsors still aimed at him and pushes the glass harder into his throat.
Tony drops the repulsors to his side. The makeshift blade pauses, but Steve makes no move to lower it. Tony looks over at Riegal, whose smirking at him, watching the genius put the pieces together.
It Tony gets the upper hand, if it looks like he’s going to win, Steve will kill himself. But if he doesn’t fight back, if he doesn’t put everything he has into this fight, Steve is going to kill him.
Just let him do it. The team needs their captain. They don’t need you.
The thought’s only in his mind for a moment, but that’s long enough to shock him. Tony doesn’t want to die. But if he has to make a choice, between Steve and himself…
The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.
Tony wills the thoughts away. Now’s not the time for a pity party.
He lands the suit, and it’s enough to make Steve drop the glass, readying himself into a fighting stance again.
“Okay,” Tony says under his breath. “New plan.”
He thrusts his hands out at Steve, but this time no pulses of energy erupt from the gloves. His armor disengages from him and flies across the room, attempting to wrap itself around Steve and immobilize him instead.
Tony just catches the sparks of electricity starting around Steve’s body before the suit closes around him. Swearing, Tony yanks the suit away and Steve collapses to the ground, convulsing. Tony summons the suit back to himself, feeling the armor close around his body, and the electricity crackling through Steve stops.
There's no way out. One of them is going to die.
Tony hates that he knows that, if Steve is somehow still in there, he would be praying for Tony to end him. Tony knows that Steve would rather die than continue being HYDRA’s puppet, than hurt a fellow teammate, even him, even after Ultron.
Are you sure about that?
Tony locks on to those blue eyes, still horribly blank and empty of the soldier he’s come to know.
I think I would just cut the wire.
Always a way out.
Tony backs away as Steve approaches, the two friends circling each other. Tony’s ankle brushes something cold and hard and as Steve rushes at him, fists raised, Tony snatches up Captain America’s shield and holds it in front of him.
Steve knocks it out of his hands and then they’re going blow for blow until Steve gets his arm around Tony’s waist, throwing him across the room and into the bank of monitors. Tony rolls onto his side, glancing from Riegal to Steve.
Always a way out.
Damn right there is.
As Steve approaches for another round, Tony disengages from the suit, tossing it to one side and facing Steve in nothing more than a pair of oil-covered jeans and a crumpled Black Sabbath t-shirt. " Hey, buddy.”
Steve doesn’t even pause, seizing him around the throat. Tony just manages to get his own hand in there first, giving himself a tiny window of air. He hears Riegal’s caw of satisfaction, but he refuses to look at her, locking his brown eyes with Steve’s blue ones.
“I know you’re in there, Cap. Somewhere under all that HYDRA brainwashing is a stubborn kid from Brooklyn who never knew when to walk away from a fight.”
Steve’s hand squeezes over his and Tony fights to keep breathing, because if Steve cuts off his air supply and he can’t talk, then he really is out of options.
“And I know you’re not going to take orders from some HYDRA suit. Damnit, Cap, you’re the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met and I’ve met me.”
He prays it’s not just imagination that the hand around his throat seems to hesitate.
“Steve,” Tony says, sincerity in every word. “You flew a plane into the ocean to save god knows how many lives. Then you crawled out of that plane seventy years later and you kept fighting because that’s who you are. You’re one of the good ones, Steve. It’s annoying as hell, but it’s true. And there is no way you’re going to take out a teammate just because some bitch with a superiority complex tried to put a leash on you.”
The hand on his throat is definitely lessening now.
“Damnit, Steve, how much more do you need to hear? That you’re a goddamned American hero? That your team needs you? That none of have slept right in over four months because we’ve been busting our asses trying to bring you home? Because this is home, Steve. And we’re a weird, messed up family, and you’re part of it, and you don’t get a say in that. And surely that’s more powerful than something some Nazi cult from the forties or wherever HYDRA came from put in that blond, stubborn, patriotic head.”
Steve’s stare is still blank, distant, but he’s not making any more moves to hurt Tony either.
“Jesus, Cap, do I need to kiss you or something? Snap out of it because neither of us is laying down on that wire today. I’m cutting the wire. Always a way out. Remember?”
Recognition floods Steve’s eyes, washing away that awful blank stare, and the hand retreats from Tony’s throat.
Tony’s relief lasts all of three seconds before the lightning is crackling around Steve’s armor again, knocking him on his back. Tony whips around, glaring at Riegal. “Turn it off. Now.”
“I can’t,” Riegal calls back. “But don’t worry. The power surge will restart his programming soon.”
Tony turns desperately back to Steve, not daring to touch him as electricity courses over his body. He can see Steve’s silenced shouts of pain behind the silver mask, and it’s even worse now because he can see it’s actually Steve, not some brainwashed puppet, conscious and fully aware and feeling every ounce of the pain that he’s in.
“There has to be something else you want!” Tony shouts at Riegal. He can hear the desperation in his voice but he’s past caring. “Come on! This is me, Tony Stark, offering—I can build you literally anything. Just stop this!”
“I want to see Rogers kill you, Stark. You don’t get to buy or bargain or threaten your way out of this one. This ends with one of you dead. One less threat for HYDRA to worry about as we reclaim what should have always been ours.”
Steve rolls over and locks eyes with Tony, and behind the agony is a firm resolution. “Steve…” Tony croaks before there’s a final wave of electricity and Steve’s eyes go blank once more.
Tony’s hand is halfway stretched out, ready to summon the suit as Steve comes at him, but he knows it’s too late. Even if he gets the suit on in time, he can’t use it. Not against Steve. Not against his friend.
“Sorry, Cap. I tried.”
You’re a failure, Tony.
Howard Stark’s voice echoes in Tony’s mind as Steve raises his fists, and Tony waits for the end.
It doesn’t come.
There is a blur of black and silver, and then Steve is gone.
Tony blinks, then whips his head around to see a second figure, a kind of dark mirror of Steve, in black with dark hair, pinning Steve to the floor about twenty feet away from Tony.
“Assets!” Riegal roars from the platform, and Tony notes the plural. “Stop! Your target is Stark!”
Steve is bucking against the brunet’s grip, but the other man manages to hold him down. The action does not set off whatever electric charges are in Steve’s suit. Apparently that’s only programmed to go off if Tony attacks.
Pieces of a plan are forming in Tony’s mind. Shutting out Riegal’s angry yelling, he scrambles to his abandoned Iron Man suit, ripping the arc reactor out of its chest and scrambling over to where the two soldiers are battling it out, summoning an Iron Man gauntlet to his right hand.
The brunet’s eyes widen as he sees what Tony’s about to do, but Tony gestures to Riegal saying, “Get her.”
Then he brings the arc reactor down on Steve’s chest.
Electricity courses through Steve, the Iron Man glove protecting Tony from the damage. Tony doesn’t have the strength to watch the pain in his friend’s eyes as the brunet takes off running, climbing up to the platform in a couple of quick bounds.
Riegal doesn’t even have time to bark one last order before the brunet soldier snaps her neck.
With Riegal taken care of, Tony turns his attention back to Steve. His eyes have rolled back in his head and there’s a moment of complete terror as Tony thinks that he’s overestimated what the serum can do, that this isn’t going to work, that he’s literally going to kill Steve all because he thought he had some stupid plan that would work—
Then the circuits in the HYDRA suit overload and the electricity stops.
Tony casts the arc reactor to one side, using the gloved hand to rip that damned mask off Steve’s face. He has to use the thrusters to get enough force to break the clasps holding it in place. The moment it’s gone, he leans over Steve’s mouth, checking for breath.
He feels none.
“Steve?” Fighting down the anxiety attack in his chest, Tony tilts Steve’s head back then uses the Iron Man glove to begin compressions on Steve’s chest, using the thrusters for extra force and wincing when he hears one of Steve’s ribs crack. When he gets to thirty compressions, he blows into Steve’s mouth, once, twice, then back to the compressions and god why is nothing happening—
After the sixth round of compressions, Tony grabs the arc reactor and slams it against Steve’s chest, even if the last thing his friend needs is more electrical current running through his body.
Once. Nothing.
Twice. Nothing.
“Come on, Cap,” Tony whispers. “Please…please just come back.”
A third time. Nothing.
Tony begins the compressions again, pushing through the rising panic.
Your fault. You killed him. You screwed up, Tony, like always. And the people you cared about got hurt, like always.
Yinsen bleeding out in his arms. Happy unconscious in a hospital bed. Pepper in pain as Killian put her through Extremis. The city of Sokovia in ruins. Bruce flying off into space after Tony pressured him to create Ultron…
Tony slams the arc reactor into Steve’s chest and, with a crack of electricity, Steve’s eyes fly open as he gasps air into his lungs. “Tony?”
A sob escapes Tony’s throat as he puts his head in his hands, relief flooding through him.
“Tony…”
The concern in Steve’s voice makes Tony lift his head, hastily mopping his eyes. “Hey, Cap. Welcome back.”
Steve winces as he sits up, eyes widening as he looks around the destroyed workshop. Tony follows his eyes, looking for the mysterious soldier with the metal arm, but he’s gone, Riegal’s limp body the only sign that he had been there.
“What…” Steve’s eyes are fluttering, and Tony scoots around him to support his head as he attempts to sit up.
At Tony’s touch, Steve buries his head into Tony’s chest and Tony freezes because he’s not used to this kind of touch from anyone, let alone the blond man in his arms that he’s clashed with too many times to count. “You alright there, Cap?”
Steve doesn’t move, just grips Tony’s t-shirt so hard his knuckles turn white, and Tony swallows hard because if he didn’t feel qualified enough to talk Steve back from HYDRA’s brainwashing, he certainly doesn’t feel qualified for this. He casts about for something to say, and his mind ends up where it usually does. What would Pepper do?
So Tony pulls Steve into him like Pepper has done for him more times than he deserved, keeping one arm under his head and wrapping the other around his chest. “It’s okay,” Tony says in a low voice, rubbing the small of Steve’s back. Steve’s face is still buried in his chest and thank god because if Tony could see his friend’s face he knows he would lose it. “You’re safe now. I got you.”
“I am back online.”
The Irish voice makes Steve flinch and Tony finds himself instinctively drawing his friend closer to him with a gentle, “It’s okay, it’s just FRIDAY.” To the AI he says, “A little late, Fri.”
There's reproach in the AI's next words. “My systems took some time to reboot.”
"Never mind,” Tony says quickly. “Just get me medical here, stat. And wake Wilson while you’re at it, get him down here.”
“Any message with that, Boss?”
“Yeah,” Tony murmured. “Tell him Steve’s home.”