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For forty-some years, the only people who knew were Howard and Jarvis and the guide, handsomely paid and sworn to secrecy, who taught Tony how to shield himself.
In the span of five minutes, all of that effort has fallen into pieces at Tony's feet.
He stares at the screens, barely hearing the sound of Hill's voice over the pounding of his heart. The fortress looks like something out of a comic book, built from a combination of concrete and a revolutionary space-age polymer. There is not an ounce of metal anywhere in the place according to SHIELD, which really makes Tony wonder about their technology - FRIDAY isn't detecting anything that she can hack, which means their systems might be pretty damn rudimentary. When Hydra makes a plan to take down Magneto, they don't do it lightly.
It's not Magneto in there though. It's Wanda, and right now none of them know how they're going to get in. The place is sealed up from head to toe; even if they could make it past the shields, there are literally no windows or visible doors. And not a single person has gone in or out in over forty-eight hours. Not even Natasha would be able to worm her way in. The only flaw in the whole structure are the pipes through which water and sewage pass, but they're about ten inches across at the most. A tight squeeze for a small animal, never mind a human.
"We have to do something," Steve says, sounding like he's about two seconds away from just throwing his shield at the front of the fortress and damn the consequences. Tony blinks and turns to look at him, startled.
"You saw the footage, Captain," Hill says. "If you charge in there, there's an excellent chance they'll just kill Wanda before you even get to the front door." She folds her arms, looking tense. "Vision is on the way, but his E.T.A. is approximately twelve hours -"
"We can't wait that long!"
"What do you propose we do?" Hill demands. "We're out of options."
Not entirely. Tony swallows hard. His throat feels like sandpaper. Fear and nerves make his fingers cold, and he flexes them unconsciously. Forty years. He can practically feel the force of Howard's glare on his back, daring him to say or do anything to compromise their carefully built facade.
No one alive knows that Tony Stark is a guide, not even Rhodey or Pepper or T'Challa. There have been times that Tony wanted to tell them, but the thought of the inevitable backlash if the secret got out always stopped him. Which means that no one knows that he's been in close proximity to both of his sentinels for the past seven years. He planned on dying without ever saying a word to any of them. Then, if they found out after he was dead, it didn't really matter anymore.
He didn't plan on dying today, but sometimes that's life. It would almost be a blessing to not have to deal with anyone's reactions at this point.
"This is stupid," Steve says, looking around the room. Sam and Natasha meet his gaze without flinching. Bucky, near the front of the room, is busy re-examining the blueprints SHIELD's managed to gather for the fifteenth time. Tony looks at him for only a second before dropping his gaze. After all this time he should be used to the feel of Steve's anger and frustration battering at his shields, an unconscious move on Steve's part, but right now it hurts all over again.
While Hill and Steve continue to argue, Tony takes the opportunity to slip out of the room. The jet is grounded some fifty feet away from the fortress; agents have been back and forth doing recon so many times that there's a trail. Tony walks it alone, his mind (for once) not buzzing with anger or grief or anxiety. He feels surprisingly calm. The mark on his inner thigh burns a little, the way it always does when Steve or Bucky is upset. The feeling is easily shunted aside, though, because it's going to get worse before it gets better.
Everyone is going to be so mad, and yet the only thought in his head is that he wishes he could see T'Challa again.
He makes it to the edge of the fortress by himself, but is not all surprised when Natasha is the one to sashay by him and stick a hand against the shield. It crackles with electricity against her palm. Beside her, Sam makes a thoughtful sound and crosses his arms. Steve glares at the shields like they've done something to offend him personally. Bucky is less focused on the shields and more focused on making sure that Steve doesn't do anything stupid. None of them deal well with standing still.
"If we could get in there," Tony begins.
"As long as we could make sure Wanda is safe, we could raise hell," Sam says, picking up on his train of thought instantly. "But there's no way to get in. We're stuck waiting on Vision."
"Hill mentioned the pipes."
Natasha holds up three fingers. "Three times a day, they flush the system. I've investigated the possibility of slipping something into the water, but it didn't pan out. They have a filtering system set up under ground. You should feel it in the next ten minutes. The ground shakes when it kicks in."
Ten minutes. That's all Tony needs to hear. He sighs, shaking out his arms to dispel the tension. "Got a spare communicator? Anyone?"
"What for?" Bucky wants to know, but he thumbs open a pouch at Steve's waist and takes out one of their spares, handing it over without waiting for an explanation.
Tony drops it on the ground. Bucky opens his mouth, likely to read him the riot act, but Tony ignores him. He's too busy letting his shields fall away, and the sensation of falling overwhelms him immediately because he hasn't dared to allow himself this in years. It's like stretching your whole body after being in one place for too long; the world shifts and he catches himself with an arm before he can fall flat on his face, except it's not an arm any longer - it's a paw. A delicate black paw, to be exact.
Above him, there's stunned silence. Tony knows exactly what they're looking at: the mark on his back, just above his tail, that forever marks him as the guide to Captain America and the Winter Soldier. He sweeps his tail over it unconsciously, because the first time that Howard saw it he threatened to burn it off, and it's been his greatest secret ever since. The disorientation, stronger this time because of how long it's been, makes him nauseous even from that simple movement.
"Tony?!" Steve chokes out.
There's no time, though. He grabs the communicator in his mouth and takes off.
"Tony!" Natasha shouts.
Like a black streak of lightening, Tony darts across the grass and heads straight for the fortress. The shields make his fur stand on end, but he'd observed the birds passing through harmlessly and so does he. He zigzags down the bank of the river, leaps over the thinnest part, and pads silently up to the water in-take pipe. He has to time this perfectly, down to the last second, or one of two things could happen. Either he'll miss his chance, or he'll be stuck inside the pipe while it's filled with water and drown. Neither option is attractive.
So when he hears the whine of machinery, long before human ears would have, he darts forward into the water. Panic claws at his throat when he's swept into the pipe and for a few seconds he can't breathe, can't see, can't even think -
Then the machinery clicks off, the water level dies around him, and Tony is left sitting on the bottom of the pipe, communicator still in his mouth, gasping for breath and trembling. The panic is still in his chest, just waiting to overwhelm him, but he pushes it down. He doesn't have time for a panic attack right now when he's this close to Wanda.
He slinks along the pipe, which is much longer than he thought. He's exhausted by the time he makes it to the end. Actually escaping the pipe is probably the easiest part of the whole rescue attempt - the water gets funneled into a large tank for holding, which is currently being cleaned. Tony drags himself out of the pipe and scoots out the open door before the two janitors even notice his presence. He's soaked, so he shakes himself off as best he can and keeps moving.
The facility is enormous, yet not very well manned. For that reason, most of the rooms have glass windows so that the guards can see what's going on without having to pause their patrols. Tony finds Wanda on the third floor, right smack dab in the middle of the place. Through the window, he can see that her hands and feet are bound. There's a blindfold over her eyes, a gag in her mouth and some kind of collar around her neck. His fur bristles at the sight of the collar; he wants to change back and tear it off and make it explode, but a cooler head prevails.
He finds a spot where he can curl up in a shadow and wait, and soon enough a couple of guards wander through. One of them opens the door and makes a slow circle around Wanda's room, even though it's bare aside from her. Tony slinks in behind him and waits until the guards are gone before he changes back. It hurts a hell of a lot more this time, and Tony can't help the soft mewl of pain he can't contain. Wanda goes tense at the sound and mutters something unintelligible.
"It's me," Tony says, shaking from pain and exertion, and gets close enough to gently slip the communicator into her ear. He presses the button to make it work and someone - Natasha, from the sound of it - immediately starts to talk. Wanda's head bobs and she makes another, quieter sound, a happy sound that Natasha apparently interprets correctly judging by how her voice softens into something soothing.
The second thing Tony does is remove her blindfold and the gag. Wanda blinks up at him, eyes wide and stunned. She's probably not very happy to see him, let alone see him in all of his naked glory. Too bad. Tony drops down on one knee and starts in on her feet. They used rope, actual rope, to tie her up. He understands that they didn't want to have any metal in the fortress because hello, Magneto, but would it have killed them to invest in something that didn't leave friction burns on the delicate skin of Wanda's ankles and wrists?
There's an explosion.
"Steve is angry," Wanda says, obviously repeating something Natasha said. Her voice is hoarse. Tony looks up at her. For the first time, he sees the bruises on her face. It makes anger curl under his skin.
"Good," he says, pulling the last of the rope away. He scoots around so he can work on her wrists.
"Natasha says that you need to talk," she adds, and Tony winces.
"Talking is overrated. Just tell them to get their asses in here already," he mutters, shivering. It's cold, and he feels damp to the bones.
"She heard you." Wanda's smile is tiny, but still there, and Tony smiles back helplessly.
The room is locked from the outside so they can't escape, but within fifteen minutes Sam shows up and shatters the thick glass with a well-placed bomb. He can't carry the both of them, so Tony reverts back to his spirit form. The expenditure in energy is too much; he sways on his paws, nearly tipping over, as exhaustion slams into him full force. Wanda scoops him up just in time, holding him very gently against her chest, like he's something fragile. Tony didn't expect to enjoy being held, but Wanda is warm and it's the most contact the two of them have ever had. Sam picks her up and flies them both to safety. Sometime in the air, Tony passes out.
He wakes up to the luxurious feel of someone petting him. He's shocked at how good it feels: the large hand starts at the back of his neck and slowly runs down his back to the base of his tail, fingers trailing over his sides, before lifting away to start again at his neck. The pressure is just right and lights up pleasure centers Tony didn't even know he had; regardless, he tenses a little and the petting, regrettably, stops.
The bed shifts beside him, mattress sinking down, and Tony cracks open an eye. Natasha looks down at him, her face full of concern. She was the one petting him, so careful and gentle that Tony kind of wants her to start again. He goes to stand up and wavers, suddenly dizzy.
"Careful, Tony," Natasha whispers. "The doctor said you overdid it. Exhausted yourself after not changing for so long. What have I told you about not using your muscles, huh?" She shakes her head with a fond, if somewhat sad, smile. "And the bond rejection didn't help."
Tony hisses at her, opening his mouth wide to show his teeth.
"Yeah, yeah. You don't wanna talk about it. I don't think you'll have much choice. Your supersoldiers practically turned themselves inside out after you took off." She gives him a gentle nudge, and Tony's not stupid enough to bite her so he lets it happen, turning to see -
Oh.
That explains why he can't feel Steve or Bucky, then, even though his shields are down. A huge white bear with a metal arm is laying on the bed just across from Tony - Bucky. Beside the bear, a pale brown horse's head is resting on the bed - Steve. The remainder of the horse is on the floor just because there's not enough room for all of them. Tony doesn't have to look to know that he'll find the same mark on both the horse and the bear, in the same place as on his own body.
Natasha tweaks his fur. "You three are idiots," she says, not unkindly.
Tony just blinks at her. She doesn't understand. No one understands. Guides are weak. He's known that since the day he was born. Stark men aren't weak - but Tony. Tony ruins everything he ever touches. Case in point: the fact that even now, two years after Zemo's attempt at destroying them, the team is still a little awkward with each other. Still not quite there yet, still unsure, still fractured.
And Steve and Bucky have fought hard to get to where they are now. They never bring up a guide ever, and Tony suspects that they've quietly assumed that their guide died a long time ago. It's what he wants them to think. They weren't supposed to know the truth, but of course he's messed that up too.
He doesn't want to be an obligation, especially not to them.
"It'll be okay, Tony," Natasha says. She pets him again, but that warm feeling doesn't come back. Tony sets his head down on his paws and curls up into the tiniest ball he can, already planning to slip out as soon as he can muster the energy to change back. He'll go back to New York and hide in the workshop until this blows over and they can forget it ever happened.
Of course, like all of his plans, it doesn't really happen that way. Natasha keeps an annoyingly close eye on him over the next two days, but at least she also keeps Bucky and Steve away. Tony's not ready to see them yet (not ever) so he'll take riding around on Natasha's shoulder instead, and even grows to enjoy hiding beneath her beautiful red hair until some idiot ventures too close. The first time a SHIELD agent screams like a little kid because Tony lashed out and clawed him without warning, Natasha laughs until she cries.
T'Challa arrives on the third day, Bruce and Vision in tow. Wanda's face crumbles when she sees Vision, and she allows Bruce to hover over her without fuss. Tony watches T'Challa from under the safety of Natasha's hair, trying to figure out if T'Challa is angry. He should be. But all T'Challa does is walk over to Natasha and smile at her. His posture is relaxed and open.
"Good morning," he says, polite to the end.
"Morning," Natasha says, reaching up to gently grab Tony around his midsection. He yowls in protest, not quite stupid enough to claw at her, but she ignores him and passes him straight into T'Challa's careful hands. Tony glares at her, but she just pats him on the head.
"I'll keep Bucky and Steve occupied," she says to him, before turning on her heel and strutting out of the room. The door shuts behind her and suddenly, Tony is afraid.
He's been dreading this moment since the first time T'Challa took his hand and squeezed it, so timid that Tony's heart ached.
"Tony, can we talk?" T'Challa asks, looking down at him.
Tony mews back. He doesn't really want to talk when he knows what T'Challa is going to say. That he's a guide, of all things, and not only that, he's a guide who is destined for a very specific set of sentinels. T'Challa might be baseline, but tradition is so important to him. He can't bear to hear T'Challa say that Tony's not good enough, or that he should crawl back to Bucky and Steve.
T'Challa's eyes soften. "I don't care that you're a guide." he says, very gently. "Guides are revered in Wakanda. They are spiritual and their sphere is emotions, for the most part, though clearly you have dominated intelligence as well. I would never think less of you for being a guide."
It sounds like a lie, though Tony's never known T'Challa to lie to him. He just can't believe that's true when he's always been told that guides are weak.
"And furthermore, I don't care that you're the guide of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. I still want to be with you." Here, T'Challa hesitates, looking hesitant in a way that's completely unlike him. "That is, if you still want to be with me. I understand if -"
Tony literally launches himself out of T'Challa's arms; he's turning back long before he hits the floor and the disorientation makes him land hard on his knees with an audible crack. He doesn't care. He twists around so fast his back hurts and grabs for T'Challa's hands, looking up at him with the most pleading expression that he can muster.
"I do, I do, please don't leave me -"
"Shh, it's okay. I'm not going to leave you," T'Challa says, kneeling down and pulling Tony into a hug. "I just wanted you to know that you're not obligated to stay with me."
"Obligated?" Tony repeats, choking back an ugly laugh. "Fuck, T'Challa - if you knew how many times I thought to myself that you finding out would be the end - I don't want anything to do with Cap or Barnes that way, I keep my shields up at all times..." He finds himself stammering in his haste to get the truth out there, the tumble of words giving way to tears in his eyes and swallowed sobs.
"If you ever want that to change, you can tell me. I want you to know that you can tell me anything."
Tony nods, trying to take deep breaths, shaking all over. He tells himself it's because it's cold in the room and he's naked, but they both know better. He huddles into T'Challa. "I won't change my mind. I can't. I don't want anything to do with being a guide."
"That's your choice to make," T'Challa says, rubbing his hands up and down Tony's arms. "And I will not allow anyone to push you on it."
"Thank you," Tony breathes, relieved down to his core. Because he can be as strong and stubborn as the next guy, but something in him always ends up backing down when it comes to Steve and Bucky. It's maddening and frustrating as hell because Tony loathes the thought of ending up as their guide, shunted aside except for when they have need of him - there is no place for him with them, never mind between them. He'd rather die.
"You don't need to thank me. Your happiness is important to me."
It's been a long time since anyone said those words to Tony, and even longer since anyone meant it. And T'Challa does mean it, he can tell.
"I just want everything to go back to the way it was," Tony says, meaning it. He wants to go home with T'Challa and pretend that nothing has changed.
But unfortunately, it doesn't work out that way.
Steve corners him as they're getting Wanda on the jet to go home. He's dressed in his uniform, cowl pulled down around his shoulders, spitting mad. Tony's heart thumps in his ears, and part of him wants to run away and postpone this conversation. Another part squares his shoulders and meets Steve's gaze directly as Steve comes to a stop in front of him.
"Tony! What the hell are you playing at? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" Tony says flatly.
"You know what. You're my guide. Our guide."
Something strange happens when Steve says that. Tony finds himself getting mad. The surge of anger is so intense that it leaves him breathless, but he still finds the strength to spit out, "And why, exactly, did you need to know? Please illuminate me, Rogers."
"I'm your sentinel. Both of us. Bucky and I -"
"Are a complete set," Tony finishes. "And you have been for years. Even if I wanted you like that, there's no place for me there and you damn well know it. God, Rogers, when we were friends and teammates, you almost beat me to death just to protect him. That's what you think of me. You know why I didn't want you to know I was your guide? I didn't want your pity, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I don't want you to feel like you have to carve a space in your life for me. I don't want it."
Steve glances around, as though suddenly realizing that all of their friends are standing nearby listening. His face tightens. "Can we have this conversation somewhere else?"
"No," Tony says, and the word is so freeing. For years he's imagined this conversation and pictured himself saying that word, but never once did he think it would actually happen. Because Steve and Bucky are the epitome of what a sentinel should be, and in the end - for all that he's built himself up - Tony's just a stupid, weak guide.
The look of shock on Steve's face is priceless.
"Besides," Tony adds, because he can't leave well enough alone, "Barnes doesn't want me. I can tell that he doesn't. And the only reason you want me is because of pride, because you think I should be yours. Well, I'm not. So get used to it."
He doesn't say anything else, just walks away up the ramp to the jet; he collapses into the seat beside Wanda's bed, and she actually smiles at him. Tony can't drum up a smile back, not yet. His whole body feels cold with the shock of what he just did, going against thousands of years of biology.
Howard would kill him if he were still alive.
Somehow, looking at Natasha's approving smile and leaning into the arm T'Challa wraps around his shoulders, Tony finds that for the first time ever, he doesn't care.