Ghost in the Wires 5/10 (Steve/Tony--PG-13)

[sororexitium]

“Anthony?” he calls out as he enters the laboratory. His voice sounds a strange combination of flat and light at the same time. He doesn’t know how. In the three minutes it takes him to traverse from the gym to Anthony’s lab, there are so many things, thoughts, and emotions just swelling in him, trying to rule his heard and his brain, and just nearly taking over his soul.

And it all hurts. Even the joy and relief he feels that Anthony is alive. It hurts. Because he should have known. He should have been saving Anthony two months ago.

“Steve,” Anthony replies jovially and maybe a bit confused. Nothing like he had been at the hospital. “I see you’ve been released from the hospital. That was fast.”

“It was just an allergic reaction to the palladium. I’m apparently still allergic to nickel and the poisoning was a palladium-nickel alloy, or something. It’s only really toxic to me if I inhale it,” he says by quick way of explanation and reassurance. But really he just wants to get to this as quick as possible. He wants to cut to the chase. So he does. “If I ask you something will you answer me honestly?”

There’s a pause in the air, an unsure wavering crackling in the room around him as he comes further and further in. Finally, there seems to be a distance sigh, before Anthony answers, “Sure. Yeah. No, I was programmed for honesty.”

Steve can tell the lie for what it is now that he knows. Now that his eyes have been pried open and made to see. “Swear to it, Anthony.”

“What is it with you and that name? I can’t lie, Steve. I’m a computer prog--”

“No, you’re not,” Steve growls, surprising even himself. “You’re not a computer program. You’re not artificial intelligence.”

The words have barely left Steve’s mouth, before Anthony retorts, “That’s absolutely ridiculous. Who put those ideas into your head? Have you found a conspiracy website or something, because some of those--”

“You did.” Steve has no problem interrupting him. Because he’s getting angry; he has been angry since JARVIS, and he’s not sure who he’s angrier at. He’s not sure if it’s Anthony for playing dead for so long and haunting empty spaces everywhere he’s been, or if it’s at himself for just so blindly believing it! How could have not seen that… “You have with each thing you say to me every time we talk! You’re alive! Tell me you’re alive!”

“I can’t!” Anthony snaps. “It wouldn’t be true, Captain! Computers--”

“Computers are made to follow orders, Anthony!” he yells back heading to the center of the room and looking around like he will actually see the man appear from hiding behind one of his half-finished inventions and talk to him like he should have been all this time. Arguing at him face to face like Steve now knows he could! “Like you programmed JARVIS to. I ordered you to tell me you were alive. And you didn’t. Computers don’t get angry, Anthony! And you are!”

“I programmed this simulation…” the other man says through the feed before Steve has the chance to go on.

And he gets spared the same courtesy. “If you even have started programming this…you said you started it when you were drunk. You would have been a subprogram, like you said. And you’re not. You’re not even a program in this house. I asked JARVIS about the glitch in your voice program. He said…”

“He didn’t say anything, Captain Rogers. Anthony Stark is dead. He has been for over two years now.” A computer flares to life, and articles start popping up rapidly in new windows. Mountains of pictures, pictures of Afghanistan flash angrily in front of his eyes before they’re hidden by other articles, other photos, other lies orchestrated by Obadiah Stane and kept by Anthony. “He died in an attempt to escape from an Afghani terrorist group. The only remains of his escape were--”

“Were the pieces of the suit he built to escape. I’ve read it. DNA was found in the casing of the mask, but no body was ever found. An empty casket was buried next to your parents, and the suit you used to escape is now at Stark Industries’ main office in New York City,” he takes a deep breath because he’s barking words out like he’s in an actual physical battle and Clint is favoring a tactic that isn’t working. He doesn’t want that. He takes another deep breath and finishes, “as a token of your bravery.”

“Oh yeah,” Anthony says derisively; completely unbelieving. “Some bravery.”

A long silence wallows. No words hang between them. They’ve fallen like lead to the ground. Steve imagines he can hear Anthony breathing, deep and deceptively even. Steve closes his eyes and leans both hands against the table in front of him. “Anthony, just tell me you’re alive and I’ll find you.”

“There’s nothing to find, Steve.”

His eyes squeeze shut in frustration and longing and he growls out, “Anthony!”

There’s no response. He hears the sound of Anthony leaving.

“Anthony!” he calls louder, hoping it can get him back. “Anthony? Please.”

Still nothing.

Steve finally goes upstairs an hour later. JARVIS calls down to tell him that Clint and Natasha are arriving with Ms. Potts and Agent Coulson.

He’s just outside the lab’s door when he pauses, and asks with a sinking heart, “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Can you tell the team what you told me earlier?” he asks, and there’s part of him that hopes yes, and part of him that hopes no. If the answer is yes, it means he can get them onto his side quickly. If the answer is no, well, at least that means he at least has solid proof though. A ‘subprogram’ couldn’t tell JARVIS what to do.

Doesn’t stop him from nearly sinking onto the stairs when the answer is, “No, sir. I have been forbidden all opportunities to assist with our earlier conversation.”

He manages though. He pulls himself up the stairs and has a meeting with his friends freshly returned. He sees Happy, and he looks a little loopy, but he says he’s fine and agrees to stay in one of the many spare rooms in the mansion.

A right that should have been Anthony’s to extend.

IMCA

Despite the catastrophe in the U.S. right now, he goes down to the lab the next two nights, calling for his friend and growing love, but Anthony doesn’t respond. Steve sits on the couch, leaves the lights off, because he’s gotten so used to computers turning them on for him and no longer feels the need to do it himself, even though the knob is still just to his right when he enters.

He sleeps there the second night and his replacement phone wakes him early in the morning to go upstairs and live his life as Steve Rogers. Not the one that he is losing down here in the lab. He’s not tired physically. He’s still able to go on his morning runs, still able to consult with his team, and go to meeting after meeting Director Fury holds, but it doesn’t hold emotionally. He’s tired on the inside, snappish and withdrawn.

Thor says he convinced the team to let him keep the puppy, and it takes all his will power to smile and not bite out something hurtful just because he’s hurt. Clint makes smart mouth comments and the team gets put through nearly double the paces Steve has been keeping. Bruce takes to hiding in his room. Natasha takes to alternating between glares and inquisitive stares. Ms. Potts glances at him concernedly, and even Agent Coulson and Director Fury shift their mannerisms if only in the slightest way.

He knows he’s hurting the team and he makes the mental pledge to stop being such a jerk, but with each “Anthony?” that goes unanswered, it’s harder to keep.

His heart has barbs in it and it only gets worse when he’s in the lab. It gets worse when the silence and darkness pervades and his feet kick the words that still lay on the ground like lead and the empty space to his right just keeps growing and growing. The sixes come back again, more of them. Six coffee pots in the house, six tablets left in the living room, six passenger seats in the suburban, and six seats left in the conference room for his team when Fury calls a meeting.

Six everywhere.

And still only five people to take them, when they should be filled.

The third night, Steve finally hears a slight whirring noise. Tony is linking. The lights don’t come on though and Steve’s “Anthony?” is not answered. It hurts, but at least he’s listening. It’s better than the last two days.

“You know,” he breathes. “I was kind of lying when I said I had a crush on you. I knew then that it wasn’t just a crush.” The dark quiet is a friend and an enemy. “I’ve… gosh, I’ve kind of been falling in love with you since day one and I’m not even doing that anymore. It’s the most unbelievable and terrifying thing I could ever have imagined. I’m in love with a computer simulation that isn’t really a simulation.”

“No, you aren’t,” whispers across the lab.

He inhales as deep as he can, leans back against the couch. Closing his eyes, he says loud enough for Anthony, “I know you’re alive. And I’m going to find you and make you believe me.”

He almost believes he hears an amused, yet nonetheless resigned snort.

IMCA

The days are too long, and nights become too short. It’s not even summer.

Steve feels his team grow weary. Ants crawl under their skin and his too. An invisible restlessness as little villains crop up like weeds in the sidewalk. No one is called that often. Unless there’s some dunce holding a freeze-ray, or a time-table the Avengers are pretty much left in the Mansion. But there are people with freeze-rays and a time-table and, of course, just their luck, more robots. There’s an explosion at a chemical plant, which the media already speculates to be a bomb before any power-enhanced human can get there. And Dr. Doom does strike.

All within the week it’s been since Steve heard Anthony’s denial. Heard his whisper, “No, you aren’t,” through the air as if Steve could never have heard him. He’s tired. Today had just been meeting after meeting, and Fury is going to have them do public relations next week to give the United States a feeling of comfort. It’s, it’s probably going to be more taxing for all of them than getting swarmed by robots or half frozen to a wall.

After they return home, Steve goes down to Anthony’s lab. The team has spent so much time together that even Thor picks up his puppy, still unnamed, and kind of runs to his quarters. Not even Clint and Natasha are hanging out. The door opens for him and wastes no time in plopping onto the couch in the lab, feeling run ragged and exhausted down to the very marrow of his bones. He hears the humming of Anthony’s computer, has half given up on Anthony returning his greeting, but gives it anyway. "I know you're listening."

"Of course you do. You're Captain America. You know everything."

Steve feels his chest swell at finally being answered, an actual breath of relief, and he doesn’t even mind Anthony’s barb. He smiles a little and says, "I don't know everything."

The man on the other end of the connection has apparently given up on acting like a simulation, harrumphs and replies maybe a bit snippy, "I don't think many would agree. At this point only religious people believe there is anyone more all knowing than you."

There’s something in his tone, something angry, and deprecating, and a little lost. Steve feels it poke at his chest with sharp claws and jagged edges. It makes him say what he would have anyway. "I don't know where to find you. I don't know why you won’t tell me. I don't know why you want everyone to think you're dead..."

"I am dead,” Anthony says quickly, firmly. “My body is just two years behind on figuring it out. It's better this way. Would have been better if you had never figured it out, but Artificial Intelligence needs intelligent instructions. I should have known JARVIS would squeal on me."

JARVIS suddenly comes in out of nowhere and says, “My sincerest apologies, sir,” in a bland sarcastic tone.

"Hold on.” Steve interrupts, feeling confused. “You are dead, but you aren't?” he questions, feeling his brows fall. He quickly decides to deal with that in a few minutes, instead asking, begging, “Anthony, please let me help you. Let me find you."

"There is nothing to help, Steve,” he replies solemnly, with a finality in the air that drags Steve’s anger out. "And I really hate that name, I hope you know."

"You hate your own name?" he asks bitingly.

Anthony scoffs. "Of course I do. It's an awful name. Horrendous even. So pretentious. I don't know anyone who likes hearing their full name."

He sighs, sinks further into his couch in some attempt to keep from prowling the lab. "What should I call you then?"

There’s a long pause, poignant and strange. Then he finally breathes out audibly over the connection, says somewhat sadly, "Tony. Though I suppose you can call me whatever you like. I'm programming the simulation to answer to 'Anthony' as well. It's just...It doesn't matter. Call me Anthony if you like."

The lance of terror that races through him at his tone in his words and what he says. It takes over any rage and he’s bolting upwards on the couch again, staring at the still empty room with wide eyes. "What do you mean ‘programming the simulation’?"

"I did start the program when I was drunk.” It’s a sidestep of an answer that he’s giving. “Lots of tequila, not enough time to lock myself out of my computers. I deleted it the next day. I thought it'd be a good idea to start it again. Give you something...nice."

Steve feels his breathing speed up, panic pounding in every fiber of his body. "No!" he chokes out through shallow breaths.

"What do you mean 'no'? This isn't something you can control. No one can. I know. I've tried. It just is. Take my present when I'm done and forget about me." The way he says it. So offhandedly, like it’s no big deal.

"Don't do this, Anthony! Don't..." He gets up, starts pacing to keep from doing something stupid, like breaking things in the lab out of anger and heartbreak. His eyes are stinging, and his hands are actually shaking with rage or the strain it takes to keep from breaking down, he’s not sure. "Why? Just tell me why you won’t let me find you! Tell me!"

"Don't...look, okay. Will you just listen? For just one second?" He doesn’t wait for a response, the rhetorical bastard. "I told you. I'm a dead man. Where do you think Stane got the idea for the poisoning? I tried to stop the bombs but there's only so much you can do from a computer, especially when the bombs are disconnected from the computers. There's nothing left to do. Even with Banner's treatment."

Steve falters at having the man give him so much information at once, staggers until he can collapse onto the swivel chair. "You... Stane?" He stops himself, breathing hard, and let's his mind download and process all that information. "Stane has you. And he's killing you."

His heart is just torn out of his chest.

"I didn't mean...Steve..." He huffs, clearly not sure what to say. "It's not like how you think."

Steve doesn't, can’t acknowledge what Anthony said, because rage replaces the hurt again at the other man confirming he's being held by Stane despite not saying it out loud. His fists clench on their own and he thinks very clearly and succinctly, 'I'll tear that son of a bitch limb from limb'*

"He's been trying to keep me alive. He has been for nearly eight months. It's just not working. Steve? Steve? Okay. You need deep breaths. I can't see you breathing." Anthony sounds a little panicked now.

Steve takes a deep breath and huffs it out his nose, and the red recedes from his vision, if only fractionally. "How is he trying to keep you alive if he's holding you hostage?" he demands, keeping his voice low and quiet.

"Hostage is a really nasty word. I don't care if it is kind of, maybe, a little true. And he has doctors. Not the best, he has no head for them and I keep them pretty far off his radar. But there are doctors and sometimes, okay, really, not often, but every now and again, they help. Steve...I, this really has been a lost cause since day one."

"That doesn't explain why! Why? Why won’t he let you go? Why are you dying? Why won’t you let me help you?"

"He won't let me go because I'm a liability” Anthony snaps in reply to Steve’s raging. “He's known I was alive for two years and he’s been keeping me! I won't let you help me because it's no damn use! I've tried everything and you may think the world bends to your will, but I'm the genius! I am not going to get better because the thing that's keeping me alive is killing me!"

"How do you know if you won’t let me try?!” Steve hollers. “Damnit, Anthony, I don't... I can't lose you, not when I have the chance to do something, even if it doesn't work!"

"And I can't watch you watch me die!” Anthony’s voice thunders through all of the lab. And then it’s just them, breathing heavily on opposite side of an electrical connection but it almost feels like they could be sitting in the same room glaring at each other. Finally, Anthony says, quieter that before, almost apologetic, yet still not yielding. “It's not fair to you, alright? It's not fair to anyone. I've been dead for over two years. On the outside, I have two months left. Just fucking let me go! Pretend this was all some shitty dream and forget me!"

Steve can’t stop the moan, part frustration, part defeat; all devastation. He has images in his head, tinged in the red of anger and the gold of love, and tries to just imagine a world where he would try to forget Anthony, live without him and, and it’s not possible. As many empty spaces as he leaves, he leaves them because he should be there. As many times as they’ve spoken, Steve has been speaking to a man who he has always imagined in the room with him. He would never just forget. He would never just let go.

"I can't."

"Sure you can," Anthony says easily, loftily; trying not to care; trying to believe that this is not big deal. "There has to be hypnotherapy, acupuncture...what's that weird thing they do with rebirthing, or whatever? A few sessions of something good, oh! Try drugs! And I'll just be a ghost in the wires."

Steve shakes his head violently. "Not to me."

"Oh, sweet Jesus. Look. Steve?" He says it in mixtures of patience and sadness. Airiness gone and seriousness trying to convey itself as he continues, "You don't love me. You can't. You don't know me. If you did, you would agree I'm an ass. It's just...It's loneliness okay? You'll find someone better. Just forget about me. I'll scrap the program. You can just...I don't know. You can..."

"Don't finish that sentence. And don't tell me what I feel! I love you. You're just going to have to get used to the idea. I will not just turn my back and forget, not when there is still time. They have the best doctors in the galaxy working on the fallout from those missiles, they can help you. I'm coming to find you."

"And I...okay fine. I love you too. There. I said it. Happy? And that's as far as we would ever get, even if you somehow, miraculously could find me."

He glares at the room, and hopes Anthony can feel it through their connection. "Humor me and tell me where to start. Then you can say it to my face."

"Where to...Shit, your picture really should be next to the definition of 'determined'. Fine. Have it your way. Start under suits."

That, that wasn’t what he was expecting. "... Under suits?"

"Yes. Under suits,” Anthony says with finality, like that’s all he is going to say on the matter and you know what?

That’s fine. Steve has worked with less.

“I’ll see you soon.”

IMCA

The ‘double-dealers’ of Stark Industries are cast into light merely a day after Steve has his clue, and as the three men and one woman are being taken out by police, the Avengers are in a meeting with Fury, who tells them Stane has asked for a public meeting with them, to publically thank the Avengers for all the fine work they did when the missiles were launched.

Steve feels his teeth clench and his fists tighten. He’s not so sure letting him around Obadiah Stane is a good idea. Looking around the room, no one else does either. Thor actually reaches to his side, around the puppy he has still yet to name but carries everywhere if there’s no imminent danger, like he’s going for his hammer. Natasha and Clint seem to be having a silent conversation about how they’re going to assassinate him at the meeting without getting caught. And Bruce’s watch-thingy gives and irritated beep.

But Fury is stern and when he can’t convince them to, Ms. Potts steps up before them and practically just says, “You’re going to do it, so smile for the camera,” with a grimace of her own and the empty space beside her shudders.

Which is how the Avengers find themselves dressed for battle in a SHIELD suburban at seven in the morning on the way to Stark Industries. Agent Coulson is driving, and Clint is in the passenger seat begging him to pull into McDonalds for a breakfast burrito, because, according to him, if he doesn’t eat he might not be able to control his impulses. Coulson gives him a cool look and promises lunch if he’s a good boy.

When they get to Stark Industries, they all pile out and Thor literally climbs out, he’s so huge. Steve glimpses Natasha pressing a hand down the side of her outfit and Steve has no doubt she’s concealing a weapon there, just in case.

They meet Ms. Potts at the door with Director Fury looking ominous beside her. They and other SHIELD members lead them to a discreet room to get ready, passing through the lobby briefly.

Steve looks around. He’s been in here a few times, though it’s often overwhelming to come here and he’s always had a bad feeling about Stane, so he’s always tried to stay away. Its clean lines and tall walls. A grand gesture of a building and the lobby alone looks like it could easily fit fifteen tanks and still have room to spare.

And in the corner, is Anthony’s metal suit from his escape.

He nearly comes to a complete halt as it hits him like it should have immediately. He had thought until then that Anthony had been telling him to follow Stane, to see what he did, but it’s so clear. How could no one have ever thought…?

Bruce stumbles into his back and he immediately comes back to himself with a small apology, his eyes glancing back to see Bruce muttering his own apology and staring at his watch. Steve looks back at the suit, encased in glass, and calling to him sadly.

However, he’s paraded on until the suit is out of sight, though he doesn’t feel that it’s too much of a bad thing. He has his start. Already as they’re in the backroom waiting for the press to arrive and the cameras to be set up, he’s thinking of where would be the best place for reconnaissance, making plans to get schematics to the building, and trying to decide how much security he should expect to run into.

He knows he can do it alone. He ran into a Nazi prison camp alone, for goodness sake. He shouldn’t need his team to get into this with him. It would be good to have his back up, but with no way to prove that Anthony is actually alive…well, they’d probably still think it was a good way to stick it in Stane’s face how easily they could infiltrate his premise, but he doesn’t want to risk them on the off chance he’s caught.

Stane is in the back room when they get there and the team flocks away from him, while Fury goes to make brisk conversations about the nature their meeting will take. Fury always does that. There are make-up artists around, but Natasha does her own and Ms. Potts takes care of Bruce because she thinks the artists always make him look orange on the camera.

Ms. Potts tells them where they’ll be sitting and takes Clint and Natasha aside and whispers to them before holding her hand out. The two agents glance at each other before discretely handing her their weapons, which she puts into her briefcase.

Steve manages a smile, just before Thor declares he will not be putting any mud on his face with an intense glare.

He doesn’t know why they even bother anymore. Thor is a make-up artist’s worst nightmare, and always looks good anyway. He wanders over to the god and distracts him from glaring impressively at the two artists.

Then they walk out to the mostly silent room, taking their seats where their names are on the table. Steve sits next to Fury, who sits next to Stane. He hopes Stane doesn’t address him. He isn’t sure he could keep the anger out of his voice if he tried. Next to Steve is Thor and on his other side Clint. On the other side of Stane is Bruce, which seems to be an ill thought plan because on his other side is Natasha and from the way she keeps glancing at Ms. Potts, she may forgo her weapons and use brute strength. Clint at least has three people between him.

A sharply dressed man to the side of the room declares, “This press conference is called so Obadiah Stane can thank SHIELD and the Avengers for their help in assisting with the leak of Stark technologies. No questions until after the conference.”

Obadiah is the next to speak, leaning forward in his seat. “I would like to thank you all for coming. I know this last week has been especially taxing on the Unites States of America. I would like to personally say that Stark Industries will be tightening down security to prevent this from happening again, as well as running full background reports on our employees. I would also like to give a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to SHIELD and the wonderful Avengers who were so helpful in helping with the outbreak. Without their help this would no doubt have turned out much worse than it did.”

Steve nods appropriately and bites his tongue against the retort that wants to come out of his mouth. He sees a few of his teammates do the same, and Director Fury takes over from there. He speaks frankly, as he always does.

And then the floor is open to the reporters, who’ve been scribbling on notepads until now. They burst into action, hands rising with their pens in the air eagerly. They call to everyone, though most are split between Stane and Bruce.

Many want to know about the four Stark employees. Know more about their history. Others want to know about Bruce’s treatment, and how he managed to come up with it so fast, which Fury coached Bruce enough on the lie that it falls out of his lips easily.

One reporter asks, “Mr. Stane, are you working on a cure to the palladium poisoning?”

“I do have many of the best minds in the world working for me.” Stane smiles delighted. “We’re working on it even now.”

From the corner of his eye, Steve can see Ms. Potts go ramrod straight and a glare he’s only seen twice take over her features. He glances at her and sees her lips tighten and her gaze narrow in the most hateful way on her previous employer.

He can’t say he blames her. He feels the slick emotion of loathing slide over him as well.

A question goes to Captain America about what led him to the hospital, which he answers with a quick, “Allergy attack. I’m allergic to nickel.”

The conference seems to last too long especially as Stane goes on and on, halfway between faux remorse and narcissism.

It does finally end though and Steve can see the line of tension leave Bruce’s shoulders as they stand and begin shaking hands.

He reaches to take Stane’s hand, grips harder than necessary and pulls him in, still forcing a smile as he says through gritted teeth, “I know you have Anthony.”

And they’re both too good at PR because Stane pulls away with a laugh and Steve copies it. It’s to make the press believe they’re just so jolly right now, when Steve feels he should be going fisticuffs with him. He pulls Steve in, lips away from the press as he says, “You’ll never find him.”

And he keeps smiling though it becomes easier.

He’s heard that line before.

Back to Part 4 or on to Part 6