He swallows and dares to let his hand settle gingerly on her arm, feels his heart catch in his throat when a tear streaks down her cheek. “Pep?”

“Tony,” she replies and her voice is hoarse, breaking. She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling as another two tears fall loose and one hand comes up to cover her mouth as she gives a little embarrassed laugh that sounds far too much like a sob for Tony's liking. When her eyes finally drop back down to meet his, she takes his hand, threads their fingers together, and says haltingly, “Tony—S-Steve's been t-taken.”

The meaning of those words doesn't sink in immediately.

Movement catches his eye and Tony looks past Pepper to see the rest of the Avengers in a loose half-circle around them, every single one of them watching him. Coulson is in the corner wearing a grim expression. That's when the words finally get through and Tony's fingers clench around Pepper's wrist. “What?” he says, sharp. “What do you mean 'taken'?”

Pepper moves up against him, putting her arm around his waist and gathers herself slightly. “Tony, we need you to stay calm,” she says and her tone is business-like, but all Tony can hear is the roughness of her voice; all he knows is she's not answering him.

Tony blinks once, twice, then speaks in a voice that doesn't really sound like his and that should probably worry him, but not now. Now he has other problems. "I'm calm. I'm totally calm. See? Calm as a cucumber."

"It's cool," Clint says, then immediately grimaces, like he didn't mean to speak, he just did.

"What?" Tony says, frowning. "No. it's not." It's definitely not cool. Not at all. Everyone here to surprise him with a party and lots of alcohol to wash away the shitty trip? Cool. Steve and Pepper waiting for him with not a stitch on? Very cool. Steve being taken? Not cool. Never cool.

"The phrase. It's— Never mind."

Good. That was a pointless conversation anyway.

Tony thinks there might be something more, some words after that, from other people in the room, but he's a little distracted by a sensation building in his gut, an icy cold numbness that's spreading from there outward, dousing the heat of exhaustion in the rest of him. His whole body shivers, but not from cold, from— Ah, yes. Anger. The kind he hasn't felt since Afghanistan, since Gulmira, since Obi, since the Expo.

Since the last time someone dared to fuck with what was his.

It's Pepper's hand on his arm that cuts through the cold, a spot of bright heat on his skin, and he turns when it offers resistance to his forward path, the one he hadn't even really been aware he was taking, toward the platform, toward the armor—toward Steve. He turns and looks back at her.

Pepper moves her hands to the sides of his face and he takes in a shuddering breath—has he even been breathing?—clasping one of Pepper's wrists in each hand and closing his eyes. The icy rage bubbles over, turns molten, burning through him so fast it makes him lightheaded and his teeth clench. “Pepper,” he grits. “I need you to let me go. Right. Now.”

Pepper shakes her head. He shifts forward, looming, and immediately there's movement on all sides in his periphery.

He flicks his eyes around at them all and snarls, “I'm going after him. I'm not just going to sit here with my thumb up my ass like some people—”

“Tony,” Pepper says, her voice sharpening with rebuke. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is already handling the situation. You know as well as I do that the Avengers would never forsake Steve like that and when you stop for three seconds to listen, you're going to hate yourself for even suggesting it.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is handling the situation?” Tony spits back, loading the words with all the incredulity he can muster. “You're really comfortable with letting S.H.I.E.L.D. handle something like this? This is Steve, Pepper.”

“We don't have a choice, Tony!” Pepper snaps and Tony's hands loosen in surprise. He's only ever seen Pepper look this furious once or twice in all the time he's known her and he's spent a lot of time pissing her off.

He frowns and his own anger rolls back enough to clear his head for a minute. “What the hell do you mean we don't have a choice?”

Pepper glares at him, her mouth set into a thin, pinched line. “They'll kill him if any of the Avengers are seen within five miles of his location, which, yes, I know, and, no, I will not be sharing with you because I know you're just crazy enough to think that you can get to him without putting him in jeopardy, but I am not willing to take that risk, all right? I love him, too, Tony, and if Phil says they can get him back, I believe him.”

“I didn't say—” Tony splutters feebly.

With a long, deep sigh, Pepper covers her eyes with one elegant hand and deflates. That, more than anything, takes the fight right out of him.

Tony turns on the spot, waving his hands helplessly, trying to figure out what's left to do.

“Okay,” he finally says, shaky. “Okay, fine, we're letting S.H.I.E.L.D. handle this one. Fuck. Fuck.” He spins on his heel and looks around at the others, hoping he doesn't appear as desperate as he feels. “Do we know anything? When the hell did this happen?”

Clint darts an uneasy look across the room at Coulson, then Bruce, and Natasha, before finally glancing at Pepper and saying to Tony in a low, cautious voice, “Thirty-seven hours.”

The strength rushes right out of Tony's legs and he drops onto the couch and puts his head between his knees because he's going to pass out, seriously, he's passing out, this is it, the world is shrinking around him, rushing in on him, and whiting out, he must be. “Two days?” he croaks. “He's been gone two days and no one told me?”

“Thirty-seven hours,” Barton repeats and someone must say something because a second later, he mutters, “What? There's a difference.”

Pepper eases down beside Tony; he knows because of the skyscraper heels and the way she shuffles close, so their legs are pressed together from hip to knee. She starts rubbing his back in languid circles and Tony wants to scream, hit something, and curl up in a corner all at once.

It's Bruce who says, “What good would that have done, Tony? If we'd told you, you would have rushed off, exactly like you tried to do just now, or you'd have spent the last two days here with us driving everyone insane because you had nothing to do but worry.”

Tony hates that it makes so much sense, put like that. It doesn't stop the way his stomach rolls at the realization that Steve's been captive since his dinner meeting Tuesday. Tony was in Tokyo eating at Genjikoh, drinking a $200 per glass sake with sixteen drunk Japanese business men and Steve was being hauled off by—

“Who?” he demands, looking up.

Natasha's watching him, assessing, and he flicks his gaze away, finds Thor with one arm crossed over his chest, his other hand stroking over his beard. Anxious, Tony's brain supplies, he's anxious. “Those who call themselves AIM,” Thor says, and reluctantly meets his eyes.

Tony feels himself blanch.

“Ambush,” Natasha adds quietly before he can ask.

“It was a solo mission we asked him to take care of,” Phil says, solemn and somehow guilty, though Tony can't pin his finger on why. “It was supposed to be a milk run. But—” He shakes his head. “I don't know how, but they knew it'd be him. They—” Phil's eyes close and he grimaces. Around the room the others all shift, jaws clenching, fists forming. When Phil opens his eyes, his mouth is flat, gaze expressionless. “When we tracked down his last known location there was evidence that some type of ice-forming weapon had been used against him.”

“Oh, god,” slips out of Tony's mouth and Pepper leans into him, clasps his hand tight in hers. Something wet drops onto Tony's arm, dragging him from a mental playlist of all of Steve's worst episodes over the years and he realizes Pepper is crying again, silent. He turns and curls his hand around the back of her head, blocking her face from the others because he knows she hates showing this level of weakness in front of anyone and that she's doing it at all—god, she must've been through hell the last two days with him gone and Steve—and no one to talk to, no way to let it out.

Tony presses his lips to the top of her head and she takes in a hitching breath that's as close to a sob as she'll ever allow herself. “I'm never going on a business trip again,” he mutters into her hair, knowing it's patently absurd. “I'll invent a stand-in. A robot stand-in, he can go on all my business trips because I'm going to handcuff myself to both of you as soon as he gets home and that's that. I don't want to hear any arguments.”

It does the trick and Pepper laughs into his shoulder, wetter than he'd like, but at least she's laughing and the tiniest amount of strain has gone out of her shoulders. Tony puts his hand around the back of her neck and kneads at the taut muscles there gently, kissing her temple.

“I've missed you so much,” she whispers to his lap and lays her hand on his knee, tucking her fingers around it.

“Of course you have,” he replies. “What's not to miss?”

“I was talking to Tony Jr.,” Pepper replies dryly and he makes a mock-offended noise and drags her into his lap. It unsettles him, the lack of protest. He's only vaguely aware that the others are still loitering around, but he really couldn't give less of a shit if he tried. Normally Pepper would be the one giving those, so it was bad, really bad. Pepper loops her arms around his neck and takes a shaky breath.

“We're going to get him back,”he assures her, deliberately ignoring the part of him that replies In what condition? and he feels the twitch of a smile against his collarbone.

“I know,” she murmurs. “Phil promised.”

“Oh, well if Phil promised,” Tony drawls. This he can do. If he can't go after Steve himself, he can at least make sure Pepper feels more optimistic than he does.

“Tony,” Thor says and when he looks up, Thor is standing just a few feet away and the others have retreated to the far side of the room. He dips his head and says, “We will take our leave now, but we will be close by should you need anything. All you must do is ask.”

Tony nods tersely and, goddammit, Pepper's right, he already hates himself for suggesting that his teammates weren't doing enough; the strain of the last two days is written in every line of their postures. “I'm sorry, for—”

Bruce flashes him a little smile and waves him off. “We know. It's all right, Tony.”

And that's embarrassing as hell so he just gives a jerky nod and draws Pepper closer.

The pair of them are quiet as the others leave. Tony stares out the window at the sparkling city, imagining every building he looks at could be the one holding Steve. Pepper's warm weight keeps him pressed down into the couch, barely restraining his desire to say fuck it all and go tear through the city himself, inch by inch.

It feels like slowly suffocating.

He's staring hard at the stairs up to the launch pad when Pepper's fingers curl against his shoulder. “Deciding not to tell you was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made,” she admits quietly.

Tony sniffs and rubs his fingers over the hem of her skirt, tries to hide his resentment. “Well, I can't say I agree with that one, but—”

Pepper pulls back to look at him incredulously with wet eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, Tony, preventing you from going after him was absolutely the right decision.”

He frowns. “Then what—”

Pepper drops her gaze, her fingers stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, and she leans into him again. “Tony,” she murmurs, “AIM has been after you, after the arc reactor for—for ages. What if they'd come after you? You would have had no idea. They'd have caught you completely unawares—”

“Completely unawares? Come on, Pepper, give me some credit.”

“—and it sounds awful, absolutely awful of me, because I don't even want to imagine what they're doing to Steve, the thought makes me sick, but I couldn't— If you were— Again.” She presses her hand over the edge of the arc reactor, over his heart, and buries her face in his shoulder.

“Oh,” Tony says, dumbfounded. The resentment dribbles away.

Into his shoulder, Pepper says, “I haven't slept since Phil told me Steve was gone. I should have been worried about him, but I was worried about you the whole time, half-way around the world, alone, we might never even know you were gone.” She shudders and Tony holds her a little tighter.

“I had the suit with me the whole time,” he protests and then presses his mouth to her forehead. “You could have called if you were that worried.”

Pepper gives a congested laugh and smooths a hand over the lapel of his suit jacket; he'd forgotten he was even wearing one. “It's one thing to lie to you by omission, Tony. You may be awful at reading people, but you're not that awful. I'm just grateful you're home safe. Now I can focus on how sick I am over Steve and maybe stop feeling guilty because I feel like I'm playing favorites.”

“That's the Pepper I know and love,” Tony tells her affectionately. “Always thinking on the bright side.”

The laugh that gets is soft, just a huff of breath.

“Two days without sleep, huh?” Tony murmurs. “That's, like, a Tuesday for me, I think I might have managed ten hours the whole week, but you must be spent.”

“Mm.”

He keeps talking because he doesn't know what else to do, barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth, and within minutes, Pepper has gone lax against his side. Tony draws her close, holding her like a living teddy bear. He kisses her temple because it's the only part of her he can easily with her forehead against his throat and rubs his hand along her leg in a slow back and forth, as much to soothe him as her.

It's not the same, not enough to make him feel steady without Steve next to him.

He stares out the window for a few moments, then lets his gaze creep back across the penthouse. He shifts and Pepper doesn't move. This time his gaze flicks over to the launch pad again. “Pep?” he whispers.

Nothing.

He starts to very carefully ease her onto the couch, freezing whenever her eyelashes twitch, but eventually he manages to get her lying down. He hesitates, looking down at her, and kneels, easing her shoes off with a delicate touch, folding her legs up. Pepper curls into a tiny ball and Tony swallows hard, presses a kiss to the side of her head.

Then he gets to his feet and heads for the launch pad. “JARVIS,” he calls in a whisper. “Mark XV.”

“No, sir,” JARVIS replies and Tony stops in his tracks.

“No—what the hell do you mean no?”

“I mean no, sir.”

Tony glances back over his shoulder. “Did Pepper put you up to this?”

“No, sir.”

“Then what the hell, J? I'm going after him. I need to—”

“That is incorrect, sir,” JARVIS says. “I am familiar with the situation and you are not. I know it is difficult to comprehend, Mister Stark, but this is not about you.”

Tony's mouth drops open. Before he can formulate some sort of response, JARVIS is going on.

“The plan to recover Captain Rogers is the best available option. At best your interference would result in unnecessary complications, at worst it would lead to Captain Rogers demise.”

“Dammit, JARVIS, I need—”

“I will permit you access if you can offer me a single reason for pursuing Captain Rogers that considers what he needs and how you aim to provide for such needs.”

Tony blinks and pauses, his brow furrowing in suspicion. “What, you want me to have a plan?”

“I want you to consider what Captain Rogers would want, sir.”

“Wh—Steve would want me to hang around here and let the suits handle it. He'd say I was going off half-cocked. Just because I don't have a plan doesn't mean I'm half-cocked. I did this shit for years before the Avengers!”

“And I think you mean well, sir, but when you get like this, you do tend to forget that it is not you who have been most grievously wronged. Do you not think you should defer to Captain Rogers' preferred course of action when it is he who will be most affected by your actions?”

Tony shifts, the bubbling anger in his chest giving way to a slimy sort of guilt. That...makes sense. He doesn't like it, not a bit, but JARVIS is right, it's not his ass on the line. God, no wonder everyone gets so twitchy when he springs a plan on them.

“The safest plan isn't necessarily the best,” he mutters.

“No,” JARVIS agrees sympathetically, “but it is, nevertheless, the safest.”

Tony sighs and buries his hands in his hair. “Right. Okay.”

“Miss Potts still needs you, sir,” JARVIS points out gently and Tony turns to look back at the couch, feels another pang when he imagines her waking and finding him gone, all her fears realized.

“Shit.” He crosses back over to the couch and scootches up close to her, threading one of his legs between hers. Pepper shifts as he drags her against his chest and her eyes crack open.

“Tony?” she mumbles.

“Yeah, Pep, it's me, go back to sleep.”

“Steve?” she says, prying her eyes further and starting to push up. He catches his arms around her and shakes his head.

“No, no, not yet. C'mon.”

Her face crumples and she buries it against his shoulder. Tony holds her tighter. Okay, he's needed here. He can do this.

~ * ~

Tony's stripped out of most of his suit—he's down to undershirt, slacks, and socks—when the sound of a distant jet pulls him out of a fitful half-doze hours later. He bolts upright. “Is that—?”

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS replies. “That is the retrieval team.”

“Pepper!” Tony barks, shaking her shoulder and she jerks awake, catching hold of his arm just as the elevator doors slide open and disgorge the others.

“That'll be them!” Coulson calls, heading the group by a bare margin as they all beeline for the doors to the landing pad.

“I know!” Tony snaps and breaks into a run as the Quinjet comes into sight outside the windows. He doesn't even realize he's dragging Pepper along with him until he hears her breathe, “Please be okay, oh god, please.”

The Quinjet touches down as they burst through the doors and Tony throws up his hand against the blast of displaced air, his heart hammering in his chest. Pepper's plea is knocking around in his head, more fervent with every reiteration, useless though it is. They used an ice ray. He pulls Pepper up against his side and tries not to burst with impatience as the Quinjet settles. The rear hatch opens slow enough that he wants to run forward and tear it open himself, but Pepper squeezes his hand and he manages to stay put, only taking a step forward when the ramp hits the pad.

Whoever's piloting shuts the jet off and the engines wind down with a whine that fades away, leaving only the creaking of metal and the low noise of two AM traffic drifting up from the street.

Tony will deny it if anyone ever dares call him on it, but he whimpers at the shuffling clang of footsteps on the ramp and presses a palm over his mouth to prevent it happening again.

He can hear at least two sets of feet, one pair moving steadily forward and the other an uneven gait he just knows is Steve. Fuck, what did those bastards do to him?

Finally, the footsteps soften to near inaudibility as they touch the smooth concrete of the landing pad. Two sets of legs appear under the body of the jet as they shuffle past the ramp blocking them from sight and Tony catches sight of familiar red boots. His heart sticks in his throat and he can't hold himself back any longer. He takes a few strides forward, fingers clamped around Pepper's and calls in a shaking voice, “You're late for my coming home party.”

He realizes that was the wrong fucking thing to say, Jesus, he's an idiot, when he hears Steve choke, voice rough from—god, screaming, he was probably screaming— “You said I was only under a day.”

“It was— I mean, you were, sir—”

“Shit,” Tony blurts and races forward, feeling his heart unclench a little when he finally sees the line of Steve's profile. There's a giant, woolly blanket wrapped around his shoulders, which makes it impossible to see if he's injured, but right now that doesn't matter. “Steve, no! Not— I meant—”

Steve's head comes around, tracking a little slower than usual. His eyes go wide—hell, his pupils are huge—and he staggers out of the grip of the soldier at his side, his throat working. “Tony?” he breathes. “Pepper?”

Tony suddenly finds himself unable to move, so it's Pepper who lunges forward and takes Steve's face between her hands, kissing him, somehow passionate and careful all at once. Steve lets go of the blanket and curls his arms around her, holding on like she's a lifeline. “Pepper?” he repeats, plaintive. “Oh. Oh, thank God.” His wobbling voice trails off and a lump catches in Tony's throat.

“I'm sorry,” he rasps, “God, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—”

Steve hobbles forward before he can get anymore out and drags him into a desperate kiss by the front of his shirt. It jolts Tony back into action and he grips Steve's head in his hands and after one bruising kiss, starts muttering into his mouth, “It's okay, everything's fine. We're all still here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't think.” He drags Steve into a hug, holding onto him as tight as he can and feeling him shaking, still rambling: “See, everyone's here, still the same, you didn't miss anything, okay? You're fine.”