4A/N: I know many of you would rather me finish my Covert story. It has not been forgotten, I promise. This was begging to be written and I couldn't deny it. Wonderful thanks to my three lovely Betas Kita42, Midzst, and MARVEL-BABYSITTER31 for their lovely input (and to be given input). I will be editing this as the other suggestions come in, so if you see something wrong it should be fixed soon (or you can tell me). I did not write this for profit and I will in no way gain monetary or other values in the future for this work. Dr. Mitz is a work of fiction and thought up by me since she's clearly a crappy villain. Everything else belongs to Marvel/Disney/etc. Words: 3,102
Everything was going as well as a scientist that's had a psychotic break can go. Apparently Dr. Mitz, a mild-mannered virologist/epidemiologist went berserk (for no discernible reason, of course) and took an entire mini-mall hostage. Her top secret government research had essentially weaponized the avian flu virus and her sky-high security clearance had provided her an opportunity to sneak a dose strong enough to kill half a million people out in a hollowed out tip of an umbrella. One unsecure air system and a dead man's switch later, Dr. Mitz was set to maim an entire suburban town.
Quite frankly, Tony was unimpressed. It was always the quiet and mousy types that gave you more trouble than they were worth. This was exactly why Tony preferred the giggling air heads; what you saw was what you got (with or without clothing). Captain goody-two-shoes was attempting to talk reason (and evidentially failing) into the woman whose demands seemed to change as often as Pepper's toenail color. Her eyes bulged with a particular fervor that was clearly not a natural expression (which was highly impressive, seeing as Tony had seen many a contorted face) while Barton hid in a strategic crevice in the wall (Tony wasted a whole five minutes trying to predict how exactly he had gotten up there only to dismiss it as a problem for another day) angled at the kill switch and, consequently, Dr. Mitz's trembling hand waiting for an opening. Natasha was attempting to discretely smuggle out as many hostages as possible while Steve hopefully held the good doctor's full attention captive with his all-American charm. It was a shame Thor was off planet, since Steve's charm was seemingly falling short.
Bruce had been sent to oversee the files pertaining to Dr. Mitz and her research, having declared that this was much too delicate a situation for the Hulk. Tony began to disagree on the grounds that Bruce was opting out of a diplomatic mission and therefore leaving Tony high and dry, but Bruce smiled innocently and said the Other Guy wasn't specialized in weapons that required a microscope to see. Regretfully, Tony could offer no counterargument which only served to irritate him further.
So here he was, fuming in his suit on stand-by since, according to Natasha, "Your red and gold suit could further antagonize her fragile mental state" to which he responded "So when did you have time to get your psychologist degree? Was it during your 'deep cover' stay in Bora Bora?" Tony never would have guessed a milk carton could inflict that much damage until then. He gave a Stark-snarl in Natasha's direction as Mr. Rogers tried to invite Dr. Mitz to his peaceful neighborhood.
"Dr. Mitz, we aren't here to harm you," Steve's voice was annoyingly calm through the comm in his ear, his arms outstretched in a universal 'I come in peace' gesture. Tony eyed the small woman. She was definitely having none of it if the gradual clenching of her jaw and tensing of her shoulders had anything to say. Tony prided himself in reading body language; it kind of came with the territory. If an interviewer lifted the corner of his lip, that meant he was about to try and rip Tony a new one. If his jaw relaxed, Tony had given him what he wanted and damage control was in order. However, jaw clenching and shoulder tensing were two things even his self-destructive brain tried to avoid. Body language like that indicated that the person felt cornered and had nothing left to lose. Tony was very familiar with that feeling which was, consequently, why he provoked people into controlled and therefore predictable reactions.
Tony turned his attention to Steve to try and see if he was picking up on the body language that was practically screaming 'back off, I'm a loose cannon'. Steve's expression was carefully neutral, his cowl down and sporting what looked like a bed head and classic wind-blown hair had had a child. His hands were still spread, shield long forgotten at his feet while soothing, nonsensical words flowed from his mouth. If he sensed the change in Dr. Mitz's stance, he didn't outwardly acknowledge it. So much for Steve wearing his heart on his sleeve; living at the Avenger's Tower seemed to have cured him of that helpful trait. Tony shifted uneasily and glanced back at his team. Natasha was trying to get an elderly woman out of the building at a snail's pace that was so slow it was almost covert.
However, Barton shifted his weight minutely, a grimace of worry playing on his lips as he obviously sensed the same thing Tony did. Dr. Mitz made another wild gesture more akin to a wild animal about to lash out than your run of the mill dramatic gesture and Tony heard Clint's voice whisper low but clearly audible, "Steve…"
Several things happened at once. Steve had been so focused on his impression of an adult attempting baby talk that when Clint broke his concentration, he started just the tiniest bit. His shield, which had been lying forgotten by his right food was jostled, causing a sudden and loud grating noise in what had been the near silent amphitheater. Dr. Mitz, who had been clutching the dead man's switch with blanched knuckles, dove dramatically off the cheesy fountain she had been using as a pedestal backwards into her audience of captive mall-goers. This elicited a chorus of surprised yelps as the small scientist disappeared into the ocean of people. Steve moved to follow her, shifting awkwardly as he scanned the crowd for the tiny doctor. Steve didn't have to look long when she popped up, her hair in a frenzied rat's nest as her death grip transferred to what looked like a young boy. The dead man's switch had been tossed carelessly aside (thank God for the civilian that snatched the switch and continued to apply pressure) as the doctor focused on her new task of holding a full syringe millimeters from the young boy's neck; a neck that was attached to a head full of trembling red-blonde curls.
Tony's bones turned to ice.
Dr. Mitz's high grating voice pierced the amphitheater like an arrow. "One move and I will inject this brat, I swear-"
Steve said something back that sounded suspiciously like asking the doctor for a pink tiger, but Tony couldn't understand through the roar in his ears. His world narrowed to the bright curls and blue eyes brimming with terror. Terror did not belong in those eyes, her eyes; he'd fought so hard to guarantee her safety. His brain catalogued distantly that he was trembling violently, his armor making metallic noises as it made contact with itself. How dare his body betray him. Jarvis was talking to him but his suit must have been malfunctioning or his ears were making his crisp words smear together.
Looking back on it he had no idea what had elicited such an over the top reaction. Kids were filthy, whiny, and needy and he already had all those roles covered. But the moment Dr. Mitz stabbed the syringe into the boy's neck, he elicited a pitiful whimpering sound. The high pitched whimpering morphed into Pepper clutched possessively in that mad woman's arms and he was airborne. Suddenly the doctor was underneath him with a gash on her forehead and an expression of unbridled fear on her face and it didn't matter because Pep—the boy, his brain corrected, was laying stunned a few feet away to the left safely away from this woman and her crazy.
Angry voices exploded in his helmet but he ignored them in favor of scooping up the trembling child. With the precision of a highly trained mechanic he removed the syringe from the child's neck and frantically ordered Jarvis to perform a biological analysis via the external chest plate sensors. Tony fruitlessly tried to intercept his brain from calculating how fast an injection of roughly 3 ccs (how much did that crazy bat put into that syringe?) would take to go through the circulatory system of a child based on the injection site, body mass, and projected heart rate. Usually the squishy bits were Bruce's purview ("Not a medical doctor, Tony.") but his ADD brain picked up just enough of Bruce's ramblings to come to outrageous conclusions.
His ears slowly registered that Jarvis, who sounded like he had been trying to get Tony's attention for a good chunk of time, crisply informed him that the syringe hadn't been depressed into the boy at all. His legs took that opportunity to stop listening to his brain and he fell to his haunches in sheer relief, his ego only vaguely aware he was carding his fingers through the auburn curls as he held the child to his chest.
Sweat snaked down his face and trailed down his neck in cold rivulets combined with his hot labored breaths made his helmet severely claustrophobic. Ripping the faceplate off with more force than was probably necessary, he buried his face in the soft baby curls inhaling the scent of fruity shampoo and baby lotion. Voices that he had previously ignored now washed over him in an ear splitting cacophony and someone was trying to remove the boy from his bear hug. Tony growled low in his throat because this person was special and under his protection and it'd be a cold day in hell before he let anyone even touch a hair on her head. The arm was persistent, tugging on Pepper's shoulder and he looked up wildly ready to remove the arm from the body it was attached to when a gentle touch snapped the world into focus. The face accompanying the copper curls was definitely not Pepper's, but somehow that didn't calm his racing heart any faster. Tony's brow furrowed by this new anomaly, storing it away for further analysis before his eyes caught the young boy's. Deep hazel eyes stared back at him with childlike wonder, the fear ebbing away, tiny fingers wiping away Tony's single treacherous tear. Tony felt a warm smile bloom on his face because the kid thought it was all right so it had to be true.
Steve's voice registered first, probably because he was shouting orders at the army of S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel attempting to get to where Tony knelt. Natasha's was next, the normally emotionless voice talking to him like he was a rabid animal poised to attack.
"-ony, look at me. You're okay. Jonathan is okay. You need to let me take him. Tony, Tony!" Natasha was clearly working very hard to keep her tone gentle and even, though a note of murderous frustration snuck through nonetheless. He blinked owlishly, the bright red of her hair and the deep shadow of her S.H.I.E.L.D. issued uniform burning with sharp LED contrast. It was definitely unclear if the lighting was just crappy or his leaky eyes were to blame (they were definitely not tears in public thank you very much), but it made the world suddenly and painfully real.
Natasha's face shifted (was that a hint of relief?) and this time when she reached for Jonathan (not Pepper, not 'the boy') he let his arms fall away. He was still kneeling if his numb lower extremities were any hint and his mind felt like it had been ripped from him and stuffed back at an awkward angle. Jonathan stubbornly remained in front of Tony (ignoring the Black Widow's insistent tugging, an impressive feat in Tony's opinion) his brow set in determination and his small hands fidgeting as he peered into his eyes.
"Okay." His voice was soft and high, his head nodding once in complete confidence of this statement. Tony mirrored the movement automatically, his lips quirking up and gave the child a quick confirmation before letting his public façade fall into place. Satisfied, the little boy broke into a grin as he nodded once more to seal the deal and let Natasha lead him away. Tony clenched his eyes closed and he braced himself before he swung one leg in front of him, vaulting up with significantly less grace than expected. Swiveling with extra swagger to make up for his very public blunder that he had been a part of for the past half hour he physically jumped when he was suddenly and uncomfortably nose to nose with none other than the resident Captain of mother hens. Cursing his mouth for the betraying yelp it had let escape (hadn't he done enough damage to his image today?) he plastered a grin on, smoothly performed the biggest discrete step back possible, and deflected.
"Steve, I know I've told you how absolutely stunning you are in uniform, but you should have warned me you were planning on making our relationship public. Let's not make this more socially awkward or people really will talk and I'll lose all those leggy Candys and busty Sarahs… Though come to think of it, women are pretty crazy about manly love." He brightened. "Maybe that'll help my case. I-"
"Tony, shut up." Steve cut him off in that cursed commander's voice that somehow magically made every vocal cord bend to its will. Tony shut his mouth with a frown. Steve was giving him one of the special looks usually reserved for Banner doing something self destructive that involved worry lines and a semi-permanent frown that promised nagging in every twitch.
"You know Cap, I think Pep's got some magic anti-wrinkle substance that can help with all that." He gestured vaguely to Steve's face. "She swears by it and you don't want to look older than your time, if you know what I mean." Tony let his eyebrows wiggle dramatically. This only served to deepen the frown, much to his chagrin. He opened his mouth to try again because he was definitely not going through psychoanalyzing crap in the middle of a gossip obsessed mini mall when a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent set off Steve's 'You Shall Not Pass' alarm (for weeks after watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy Thor had been convinced the Ring of Sauron could not have possibly been destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom and he begged Fury to give him the resources to locate the ring for proper disposal. Tony was gleeful for weeks after, planting false clues in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database until Banner had pity and told Thor it was all fiction). Steve grabbed Tony's arm, spun him around so fast black spots danced in his peripherals, and marched the two of them over to where Barton and Natasha stood over a fuming Dr. Mitz. Clint seemed to be taking great pleasure in antagonizing Dr. Mitz into spitting at him only to measure the distance and give her pointers on better aim. It was only when Natasha coughed very loudly and obnoxiously that Clint peered up from his crouched position and smoothly jumped to his feet directly on Tony's opposite side effectively creating a S.H.I.E.L.D.-proof barrier.
"Don't worry; she's nowhere near Thor's record. Actually she hasn't even beat out Fury," Clint informed him seriously. Tony turned to look at Dr. Mitz still spitting pathetic balls of saliva at Clint and hysterical laughter bubbled in his gut. Barton seemed to have sensed this because he nodded gravely and pulled the scientist upright swiftly, making a great show of dodging the failed spit bombs. By this point Tony was paralyzed by giggles, not caring about the press that was sure to be lurking or the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents eyeing him trying to decide if he really had finally snapped. Tony could have sworn he saw money exchange hands out of the corner of his eye. By the time he had calmed down enough to form a coherent sentence, tears were streaming down his face and his face hurt from so much laughing.
The arena had been emptied of its prior occupants who had been ferried off to booths to give statements and be checked for the virus. All it seemed except a dazed looking young woman with chestnut curls holding on to… Jonathan? He hadn't at all expected the boy to hang around much less whomever he had been with (a young mother based on still trembling shoulders, but then again he was never much good at reading women) and he stiffened. He had basically tackled the woman holding her child and then practically held him hostage himself. He didn't sense any animosity aimed at him, but that didn't mean much in the scheme of things. Cautiously, he took a couple of steps towards the mother-son duo, warily watching her face for a change in emotion. He stopped a few feet in front of her, warring with himself on how to approach this situation.
Telling her he had no idea what set him off would most likely not produce good results, he thought ruefully to himself. But telling her he had planned it all along made him look like a reckless fool who almost killed her kid. Blessedly, she saved him from his spiraling thoughts by standing on her tip toes and giving him a quick peck on the cheek, awkward and self conscious. "Thank you." Her eyes swam with tears, the exact color of Jonathan's and everything that he couldn't put into words glowed there. Thank you for saving my son. Thank you for looking out for him when I couldn't. Thank you. He smiled, small and full of understanding as he nodded. You're welcome. I would have done it again.
It was only after he watched the two of them leave that it hit him. It wasn't that he was so afraid of Pepper being held captive by a mad woman (which was plenty scary) it was what that child represented, something that he never really had before now; a chance at a future. When Steve and Bruce interrogated him later back at the Tower about what had gotten into him, he decided to tell them part of the truth: that he had seen Pepper in danger, not a little boy. This seemed to sate their curiosity and he got off fairly easily with a couple of bodily threats and Bruce withholding play dates. It was only after Pepper returned from her business trip and was curled up next to him asleep on the cool sheets that he amended that statement to himself; he had seen her in Jonathan, that was true, but he had also seen a little bit of himself mixed in and that… that was worth fighting for.