Chapter Text
Prologue
Germany, January 1944
Bombs whistled through the air around Tony as he dodged mortar fire, sweat trickling down his back as he cursed the weight of the armor that protected him. His guns chattered as he picked off another of the gunners hiding behind makeshift barricades of sandbags and tumbled stones from the ruin around them. He heard more machine gun fire to his side and turned to aim at another gunner, swearing as he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He saw Steve rushing ahead with reckless abandon and no backup, the rest of the platoon scattered behind him, caught up in their own battles with the enemy.
In front of the battlefield, the crumbling ruins of a once-majestic castle rose, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. In any other circumstances, Tony would have appreciated the scenic backdrop. Today, the thick walls only provoked an estimate of their height and strength, and Tony absently ran force/weight ratios in the back of his mind even as he plotted the gun emplacements along the length of the battlements.
Since the ruin lay on a strategic hilltop with the surrounding approaches clear of all obstructions, there had been no possibility of a surprise attack. Instead, General Fury made arrangements for a special group of Allied troops to assist Captain America in a direct frontal assault. War Machine could be seen to the south, running ahead of the troops and taking out artillery units. Pepper was still on the airship, having told
Tony in no uncertain words that she wasn’t about to be left behind and how could she chronicle his adventures if she wasn’t there? Remembering her flashing eyes, Tony had to laugh.
The problem, Tony thought as he flung himself to the side to avoid a grenade, was that he remembered. He remembered everything the Tony from the other world did, and he remembered too much, too vividly. Grunting from the impact of the shock wave, he took to the air. He didn't have far to go to catch up with Steve, and although he'd be more of a target flying, it would be quicker. His gaze flicking across the combat raging below him, he admitted to himself that he was absolutely terrified. Not of injury or death - not for himself, anyway, although he would of course prefer to avoid both of those things - but for Steve. He only possessed the other Tony's knowledge of Steve's stories and the man's own research, but Tony could recall every detail of that information. He knew exactly which battle this was.
In the other world, this battle cost Steve everything he loved.
Seeing the castle before him, Tony pulled up sharply, banking to his left in order to avoid a mortar shell and sent a quick burst of fire at another machine gunner. He heard a scream, muffled amongst the echoing reverberation of gunfire and explosions and screams and moans from the injured and dying, and felt grim satisfaction that he had hit his target. He reminded himself for the thousandth time they were only targets - that was all they could be. If he began thinking of them as people, with loved ones and lives beyond the targeting and firing of a gun, he would never be able to do what he needed to do.
As Tony looped around, he thanked god he had at least been able to adapt some of the rocketry designs from the other world to use with the armor. Without the ability of flight, his part in the battle would have already been over. The new metal alloys making the suit lighter and more mobile didn't hurt either, but it was primarily the flight capability that had made Iron Man such a valuable ally to Captain America over the last few years of surprise attacks and mission to flush out Nazi encampments and ruin secret research.
The radio had begun malfunctioning as soon as they'd closed to within a mile of Zemo's castle fortress. Through the loud buzzing as his equipment fought to carry the signal, Steve's voice reached his ears.
"-ny, the entran- *bzzt* *hiss* ahead. *crackle * -ing in!"
Tony swore, scanning the area for any sign of red, white, and blue, his heart pounding in his chest when he couldn't find Steve. A flash of movement caught his eye and a familiar wave nearly made him gasp with relief. Then a low burn of anger swept through him as he watched Bucky, smirk firmly in place, casually fire over Steve's shoulder and pick off the Nazi lieutenant standing halfway up the stairs on the inside of the gate. The enemy soldier didn't even have a chance to pull the trigger on the pistol he held aimed at Steve. As the man toppled, the gun falling from his suddenly limp grasp, Cap's shield flashed past, taking out the two soldiers lurking farther up the stairs before either Tony or Bucky saw them move.
Steve paused, reclaiming his shield as it rebounded from the angled wall and looked up. Even through the armored mask, somehow Steve knew exactly where to look in order to meet Tony's eyes, and something inside Tony twisted. If only they'd met under different circumstances, or at a different time... if only they hadn't been so caught up for the last two years fighting this damned war that they'd barely even had time to breathe, let alone think about doing anything for themselves... Now was not the time, Tony reminded himself. Particularly not now, not with Zemo waiting for them, and the rocket... that damned rocket.
"Iron Man!" Cap called out, one hand moving in a casual wave. Tony lost altitude, landing as gracefully as could beside him. The shudder from the surrounding stones as he touched down and the bone-jarring shake he took inside the suit only made him jealous all over again of that other Tony for his world's technological advances, especially the durable, lightweight metal alloys which didn't shake someone half to death whenever they landed heavily. Which was every time he landed, since the suit still weighed hundreds of pounds. At least the servos had been improved.
"Cap," Tony returned, flipping up his faceplate, his lips curving as their eyes met. The flush of excitement on Steve's face was just the normal adrenaline rush of battle, but Tony never tired of seeing it. He could watch Steve's face for hours.
Staring at Steve's eyes, Tony felt as though the world had momentarily stopped, pausing in the midst of the horror and the chaos of the battle, just for the two of them. In their azure depths, he could see clearly determination to do the right thing, to do what was necessary to stop Zemo's evil plot, which he expected to see. The courage and the hint of fear hiding behind it weren't a surprise either, but what stunned Tony, what made him want to fall to his knees in front of the man before him, was the compassion and concern and hope and another emotion that Tony didn't dare examine closely, all written clearly in his eyes, and all of it aimed directly at him.
He didn't know what Steve saw in return in his own face, but something in Steve's face softened slightly and a red-gloved hand came up to rest on his shoulder. The touch couldn't be felt through the armor, of course, but Tony knew what Steve was trying to convey and he allowed his lips to curve slightly.
At Cap's back, Bucky coughed deliberately, breaking the increasingly tense moment, and Tony shook his head, his smile turning mocking. Steve didn't quite smile back, but Tony could see the amusement, and the frustration, in his eyes.
"This is it. The rocket's inside, in the central bunker." Tony motioned with one gauntleted hand, and Bucky frowned. Tony wondered if he'd ever been that young, even at the same age, as the teenager with the goofy outfit and the mask standing in front of him. The teenager, he reminded himself with some bitterness, who was a crack shot with a sniper rifle and trained in hand-to-hand combat by Cap himself.
"If it's in the bunker, how's he going to launch it? I thought you said he was planning to blow up Washington or something. All he'll blow up that way is his own head."
"Cute, kid," Tony sighed. "It's a specially-designed bunker. From the look we got at it from the zeppelin, it looks like the roof rolls back on either side. Besides that, it would blow up a hell of a lot more than just Zemo if it went off in here. It'd leave a crater the size of Manhattan in these hills, instead of these scenic castle ruins."
"So we get inside and stop the launch."
Tony frowned a little at Steve's steady words. With his faceplate up, the sounds of battle all around them resounded, and he wondered how much longer they could stand in the little alcove before the fight caught up to them. The stench of burning flesh and the sharp tang of blood wafted across his nostrils and he coughed, trying to clear his throat of the automatic gag reflex.
"Yes and no," he hedged. Steve knew that Tony knew more than he had let on about this fight. All of the not-quite-arguments they'd had over the battle had made that clear. It wasn't the first time Tony had withheld information gained from his borrowed memories, but it marked the first time he’d outright refused to share any of his knowledge with Steve.
Tony still wasn't sure why he'd refused so completely, except for the voice in the back of his head which nagged at him that if Steve knew what had happened in the other world, he might freeze up at a crucial point here. If it happened at the wrong moment... he would die. Tony had promised the other dimension's Tony that he would take care of Steve Rogers. That promise might not have been specific, but he would be damned before he let this world's Captain America die because of him. Now he understood all too well just what compelled that other Tony to continually throw himself in front of threats to his world's Steve Rogers, and that understanding only made his conviction stronger.
"There are guards between us and the inside fortress, to start with," Tony pointed out, not allowing any of his confused emotions to show on his face or in his words, although he could see an odd glint in Steve's eye as the man listened. "The fight's getting caught up against this outside wall, and Zemo's bound to have traps galore inside this place. We can't just go barging in -- that's exactly what he wants us to do."
"So we send a bunch of these Nazi creeps in ahead of us to set off the booby traps," Bucky said, aiming a derisive kick at the nearby body of a fallen enemy soldier. Steve winced.
"No, Bucky. They're still people, and we can't just use other humans as bait. If we did, we'd be no better than them." Steve kept his words level, but Bucky flinched at Cap's gently reproving tone and his mouth twisted as he nodded.
"So we go in slow and careful, not guns blazing," Tony chose to ignore the exchange, knowing from experience that anything he said would only make it worse. "Let me scan the way ahead of us, and between us, we should be able to spot everything." From the corner of his eye, he spotted movement that hadn't been there before.
The roar of mortars firing and the whistling as bombs fell around them abruptly became audible, even as the chatter of the machine guns on the battlements exchanging fire with the rifles of the charging Allied troops rang in Tony's ears again. Steve saw something in Tony's suddenly narrowed eyes, and let his hand fall away from the armor even as he dropped to the ground, pulling Bucky flat down with him, ignoring the younger man's protests.
Tony let it all wash around him, slamming his faceplate down as he opened fire on the half-hidden soldier who had raised a rifle to take aim at Captain America. From the decorations on his epaulets and the black and purple of the uniform, the colors bright compared to the drab uniforms of the other soldiers they'd seen so far, he must have been an elite guard, maybe even one of Zemo's personal guards. Regardless, Tony felt nothing but grim satisfaction as the man shrieked, one arm flying up as he dropped the gun he'd held in the other, before topping forward out of sight.
"Are you all right?" His question, asked in a voice hoarse from dust and not a little worry, had Bucky grimacing again as he sat up, brushing futilely at the dirt on his chest, but Steve's quick smile told Tony more than a verbal answer would have.
"Thanks," Steve said instead. "Good eyesight."
Tony shrugged, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see it beneath the armor and waved a hand. "Good motivation." Even as he said it, he winced. He didn't sound like himself, couldn't sound like himself with half-remembered second-hand knowledge bubbling away in his brain, every gunshot, every whiff of blood and smoke, every sight of his partners working together, all combining into a mass of confused emotions and remembered feelings and need to make sure that what happened in another world didn't happen here. He saw Steve's eyes narrow and braced himself for a continuation of the argument they'd been having for the last week, since first being briefed about this mission.
"If you two are done," Bucky said, sarcasm dripping from his words, "We do have a bad guy to catch and a rocket to stop. Somewhere over in that direction." He waved toward the central fortress, its walls recently reinforced with stones recovered from the rest of the ruined castle. Tony could have kissed Bucky for the interruption. Then he could have shot himself in the foot for even thinking that. He snorted and Steve shook his head in amusement before settling back on his heels, shield again in his hand, seriousness setting on his face as he surveyed the open ground in front of them.
"We'll be sitting ducks," Bucky said, breaking the silence.
Tony tilted his head as he took in the scene. From the half-collapsed entrance they were standing in, the wall curved away to either side. In front of them stretched a wide courtyard, its only distinguishing feature the lack of any structures whatsoever. The flagstones were cracked, tread marks crossing them from the main gate to the front doors. Tony thought about tanks transport trucks and missiles and bit back a growl. If it were just the courtyard, it might be okay. Raising his head, he eyed the high walls of the main keep, noting the narrow slots that had once provided protection to archers; now they probably shielded snipers and grenade launchers. The crumbling battlements lit up in irregular bursts of light and noise as artillery fired at the approaching Allied troops. The Armor could make it, but Captain America and Bucky? There was no way they could cross that area without a distraction.
“Slight change of plans, I think,” Tony commented, keeping his voice casual. He exchanged a glance with Steve over the top of Bucky's head and Steve let out a long sigh.
"Fine. But I don't like it, Tony." Steve never liked it when Tony made himself a target, but there was no way Tony was going to let Cap or Bucky risk themselves in a race against bullets through an area with no cover. That was a race they were bound to lose, in a too-permanent way.
"You don't have to. It's the only way and you know it," Tony retorted, feeling the nervous twitch of adrenaline once again rising throughout his body. "Get your shield ready. I don't want you or Bucky getting hit by any ricochets."
He saw Steve angling to the side, tugging Bucky along with him as he crouched, his shield coming up protectively in front of both of them. The vibranium alloy gleamed brilliantly in the last rays of the setting sun, and Tony hoped it distracted some of the snipers in the windows ahead of them, if not outright blinded them. Eyeing the courtyard and the windows in the building ahead, Tony took a moment to plan his route, then stepped out from the sheltering alcove, his guns at the ready.
Almost immediately the impact of machine gun fire had him staggering, the echoes of the bullets ringing stridently in his ears. He did his best to ignore it all, moving forward at a steady pace, returning fire as he could. From the occasional shrieks and groans, he scored some hits of his own, but not enough, he was sure. The courtyard wasn't as smooth as it had looked from the shadows; the cracks and tilted stones from the weight of vehicles moving over them made it tricky to maneuver.
Halfway across the courtyard, a sudden roar in his ears and a ringing impact that shook him to his knees made him realize he'd drawn more attention than intended. The mortar had knocked him off balance and Tony hoped it hadn't damaged the Armor. His head ached fiercely and he blinked hard to clear his eyes as he checking his system displays. Tony frowned at one indicator, hovering in the yellow before glowing greenly at him again. His power should be fine, since he'd run the pump past capacity before the battle and he hadn't been here long enough to run it down too far yet. The indicator remained green, and Tony shrugged to himself. No time to worry about it right now.
His collapse had pulled even more attention to him, and he could hear someone yelling in harshly accented syllables from the roof of the building in front of him, but with his ears still ringing from the mortar impact, he couldn't decipher them, let alone figure out who was yelling. He didn't dare look behind him to see how Cap and Bucky were faring, but he fervently hoped they were taking advantage of the huge distraction he was providing. That had been the unspoken plan, after all, even if Steve still didn't like the idea of Tony using himself as a moving target. It was practical, it worked, and he'd be fine against anything the Nazis had.
A low rumble alerted Tony to movement off to the side and he turned in that direction as he staggered back to his feet. His eyes widened, and then he swore long and low as he headed toward the wide doorway that was his goal. He'd be fine against the normal weaponry carried by Nazis -- but this was something he hadn't anticipated. He should have, since they were fighting Zemo and they all knew now how the Zemos worked, but who could have anticipated a short-range missile being aimed at Iron Man from less than a thousand yards away? The thing would cause immense damage to the surrounding structures and soldiers, but he suspected they were collateral damage.
Maybe he shouldn't have gone out of his way to piss the Nazis off so much over the last several years, he mused as he took out two more snipers. Then they wouldn't have made taking out Iron Man one of their main goals, right up there with capturing Captain America. Of course, the two of them together had caused all sorts of problems for the Reich over the last several years, so his earlier efforts probably didn't even matter in comparison.
A glance behind him and he swore again, re-estimating his chances of survival and finding the numbers low and getting lower. Since they were aiming the missile directly at him, he did have one chance... if his timing were perfect. He stopped, turning to face the missile squarely, taking the opportunity to shoot down a few of the soldiers manning the huge piece of equipment. Unfortunately, either the person actually operating the missile was hidden behind it or it was remotely operated. Considering that they were in the courtyard of Baron Zemo's fortress, Tony knew which option he was banking on.
Turned back towards the half-fallen wall he'd come from, he could see Cap and Bucky now, moving along the wall in the opposite direction from the missile. Bucky was firing in short, practiced bursts, and Tony would be willing to bet each shot found its target. The kid was terrifyingly good with a gun. Cap kept mostly on the defensive, still using his shield as protection even as he managed to overcome a soldier who'd been lurking in the shadows. The brief flash of the shield as Steve swung it in a short, sharp arc that intersected directly with the soldier's head didn't seem to attract any attention. Cap paused, looking back at Iron Man, and Tony winced. Don't do anything stupid, he pleaded mentally. I'm not suicidal and I'm not malfunctioning -- just keep going. A flash of pain passed over Steve's features, visible even under the cowl. Then his jaw firmed and he turned back to the side door he and Bucky were aiming for.
Tony let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and watched the missile shake as it started to fire up. Whoever was controlling had triggered the launch sequence, and within seconds it would be in the air. Tony stood his ground, staring at it, counting down in his head. Hopefully Zemo -- or whichever flunky might be in charge of the missile -- would think he was frozen in place with fear.
Flames lashed out from the rear of the missile, and Tony flipped a switch on his armor. The shaking and the din intensified, and with earth shattering explosion the missile left its cradle... heading straight for Tony.
Tony pressed a button. The thrusters in his boots ignited and he ascended at a pace that tore the breath from his body, sending his heart hammering almost out of his ribcage. The thrusters hadn’t been designed for this and he was aware of the warning light from earlier blinking at him again. The force from the explosion lifted him higher, and his vision darkened around the edges. He fought desperately to stay conscious, knowing that his only chance lay in not blacking out. Sweat rolled down his face and his head throbbed, but he held on. He tried not to wonder if Steve and Bucky had found their way into the underground bunker before the missile exploded.
Seconds later and Tony rallied, drawing in a steadying breath and blinking, then firing the thrusters in the Armor to control his descent as the initial rush of height and speed began to fall. While he couldn't fly in his armor with the same finesse or capability his otherworldly double had, he could fly for limited times. Something like this, where only speed and distance had been necessary without having to judge fine details of angle or target, was ridiculously easy.
Below him, the front wall of the reinforced inner building now lay in ruins. The occasional swastika-emblazoned corpse told him not all of Zemo's men had escaped the area before the missile hit. Not surprising, since the missile hadn't been designed for use at point-blank range. That sort of improvisation made him worry, though; whoever this Zemo had been, he would be dangerous to underestimate. The clunk and shudder that ran through the Armor when he hit the ground made him worry, the blinking yellow indicator making him aware that the thrusters had been damaged somehow. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t do anything about it in the middle of a battlefield, and he had better things to do at the moment.
The fighting on the field around the front wall of the ruin had paused as the combatants dealt with the shock and backlash of the explosion, and he could see men looking at him, pointing, as he headed past the fallen wall. He needed to find out what had happened to Steve and Bucky. The urgency that swept over him as he thought of them was unexpected, but there was no arguing with its truth. Not at this point; he may have spent the last four years fighting against what he knew he felt, but at this moment, on this battlefield, knowing what he knew about it, he couldn't deny that he loved Steve Rogers. Maybe it was a kind of fate, he mused cynically, as he approached the side entrance. The other-him had loved his Steve, and this one a little too, and in all the universes his double remembered, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were inextricably bound together, for good or for ill.
Gah. When had he become a philosopher? Snorting at the lofty direction his thoughts had taken, Tony stopped in front of the main door and scanned the area with his heat sensors. No heat sources registered on the scanners. He wished he could believe that meant there were no enemies nearby, but after his first encounter with Baron Blood two years back, he knew better. Too bad he had never figured out how to build an undead scanner.
Cautiously, Tony reached out and pushed at the door. The door, heavy oak reinforced with steel bindings, swung loosely on its hinges, opening without so much as a squeal at his touch. Inside was a surprisingly well lit hallway, leading further into the building. Whatever damage the missile had done, it hadn't reached here. Moving silently in the Armor was impossible, of course, but Tony tried to keep the noise to a minimum. He couldn't be sure if Cap and Bucky had come in here and cleared the way as they went or if they'd slunk along the corridors, silently hugging the shadows and trying to avoid encounters with the enemy. Knowing Bucky, Tony doubted they had taken the latter option, but on the off chance, there was no point in blowing any cover they had managed to maintain by forcing his way through the building like a bull in a china shop.
Audio sensors turned up almost to full, scanning the heat and movement sensors Fury would probably kill him for not sharing if he knew about them, Tony bit his lip as all detectors stayed silent. He tried thumbing the radio again, futilely. Somewhere in the ruined castle Zemo had set up some kind of radio interference they hadn't been able to penetrate. He couldn't even call Jarvis to send in War Machine as a backup if things got too rough. Of course, if he went long enough without communication, War Machine would be more than happy to take a break from field support and come after him, Tony's wishes in the matter be damned.
Now, walking down this damned interminably long hallway, bare fluorescent lights glaring off the walls and the Armor, he was incredibly conscious of the space behind him, the emptiness where War Machine usually stood to watch his back in these situations. At least he'd managed to talk to Rhodey into backing up the men on the field while he did the same for Cap and Bucky, instead of Iron Man and War Machine just charging into the middle of the enemy stronghold. Right about now, he really wished he had lost that argument.
Ahead, the lights changed, the hallway curved slightly before opening up, and Tony could hear voices, machinery, an occasional gunshot and someone shouting in heavily accented English. The gun had to be Bucky's pistol -- it was far too light for any of the rifles they had seen the Nazis carrying. That meant that the sharp metallic sounds... were Cap's shield ricocheting off of the machinery that Tony could hear working in the background. Damn.
Abandoning all attempts at remaining quiet, Tony sped down the hallway, his footsteps echoing like metallic explosions against the stone walls, his mouth pressed into a tight line. He had to get there, had to stop Steve and Bucky from trying to take out that rocket by themselves. He hadn't been able to tell them why this battle had chilled him so much when they'd first been briefed. He’d had to turn away altogether from the concern in Steve's blue eyes before he said too much in front of Fury and revealed the secret that they'd all been keeping for almost three years... before he revealed his own secret to Steve, and that was something he didn't need hanging over his head right now.
As Tony entered the central control room, he took in the machinery lining its walls, the catwalks along the far sides, the soldiers stationed along them and the technicians cowering behind consoles, all in a glance. His immediate attention was captured by the large upright shape in the center of the room, the rocket a long, clean cylinder that spoke starkly of death and destruction as Tony's eyes fell upon it.
"Ahh! And here we have Iron Man! All the better to join us now, so that you too may witness the destruction of all that you know and hold dear!" His head jerked up at the triumphant snarl, already knowing what he would see.
Above him stood Baron Zemo, purple uniform and mask firmly in place. Tony still didn't know who the current Zemo was, but the man was clearly convinced that he held all the cards. As Tony took in more details, he found that he couldn't disagree with that assessment: Zemo not only held a machine pistol in one hand as he stood protectively beside what had to be the main control console for the rocket, but he held Bucky in what looked like a fiercely painful grip with his free hand. Bucky was struggling, but with the awkward half-crouching position Zemo held him in, there would be no easy escape.
And Steve, standing in the middle of the floor, shield flat on the floor three feet in front of him, was clearly aware of that.
Inside, Tony cursed as he feverishly ran through options and alternatives in his mind. What good would his presence do if, rather than saving Steve and Bucky, he got them killed? And right now, that's what it looked like was going to happen. No. He couldn't let that happen, he had to prevent it -- he'd promised himself. He was not about to let Steve die before they actually had a chance to figure out what this thing between them was... the thing that they both knew about, had both acknowledged, but had never once acted on. He'd be damned before he let that go without a fight.
"I see the zemo chemicals still have that nasty side effect of megalomania and grandiose plans," Tony called back, wishing that he had a way to edge toward Zemo without being obvious about it. "Too bad that little brainwashing chemical soup seems to bring along a big side dish of stupidity." He heard Zemo's snarl, caught Cap's sidelong look, and wished desperately that he could talk to Steve, let him know that he wasn't just rattling his chains, that he did actually have a plan. Not a great plan, sure, but anything was better than just standing here and watching while people he cared about got killed in front of him and then this rocket blasted off to start destroying the rest of his world.
"And I see that years have not yet taught you that you are not invincible as you claim," Zemo snarled. "Do not think that your armor will protect you, Tony Stark. I do not have to harm you personally in order to hurt you." And Tony saw, with rising horror, Zemo's hand swing around to point his pistol at Steve.
He stepped forward, one arm coming up as he unconsciously began to trigger the miniature missile he carried there. Zemo's finger tightened on the trigger, his aim not wavering even as he turned to look directly at Tony.
"Go on, Man of Iron. Test me. See if I truly mean what I say." Zemo's tone was light, teasing, but Tony clearly heard the steely determination beneath and forced himself to stop, to lower his arm. Dammit. If he could only distract Zemo long enough for Cap to grab his shield, somehow make him change his aim...
Tony flipped up his faceplate. From the corner of his eye he saw Steve's eyes widen, but with obvious difficulty, he forced himself to stillness. Bucky's eyes narrowed and Tony inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement as Bucky's eyes flicked up, to Zemo's hand that held the pistol, then back to Tony. Bucky's lips twitched, and for the first time, Tony was grateful to Steve for insisting on all of their training. Without that practice together, this plan would never work.
"I don't gamble with madmen," Tony said icily, wishing his heart would stop hammering in his chest. It was deafening.
Zemo's hand twitched and Tony almost stopped breathing.
Then Bucky was moving, a blur of motion as he lunged up and forward, one leg rising in a graceful snap kick to Zemo's hand before he twisted around, caught Zemo on the back of the skull with his other foot, then sprang forward over the railing in a controlled dive to the floor. Zemo's angry shout seemed to startle the guards around the perimeter into action, but Cap was already there. As soon as Bucky began to move, he'd grabbed his shield from the floor. Now it spun, with graceful, deadly precision, around the perimeter of the room. Tony saw it knock out the guards around the central console before returning to Cap, who caught it with easy grace.
"Cap! The console! We have to shut it down!" he called, already moving for the controls, his faceplate flipped down again as soon as Bucky moved. Cap nodded sharply, then whirled around, a flash of gleaming red and white all that Tony saw before another guard topped from a balcony behind him. Even now, Steve was watching his back better than he ever did himself. In turn, Tony's shoulder-mounted guns never ceased spitting deadly bullets across the room, taking out soldier after soldier until a strange quiet fell.
At some point, the technicians had fled for their lives. Tony didn't try to stop them. The Allied forces at the front of the castle would catch them, if they made it that far. Their mission was much more crucial and of instant importance: Stop the rocket from taking off.
He glanced around, not liking the silence that had fallen over the room, and immediately saw the reason for it. Bucky was just straightening from beside the body of a guard on the far side of the room, a look of smug content on his face, even as Cap approached him, shield carried lightly on his left arm, his expression stern to hide the worry that Tony knew lay just beneath the tense surface. Between them, they had managed to take out the remaining guards. If any still lived, they had fled.
"Where's Zemo?" he called, scanning the room for any signs of the insane leader. Bucky shrugged and Steve's brows furrowed.
"He disappeared after I got my shield back," Cap answered, glancing around himself for any signs.
"That's very much not a good thing," Tony muttered, closing the distance between himself and the main controls. Casting a quick look across them, he felt the knot of worry in his chest ease somewhat. "These look simple enough, at least." Given the memories he had managed to acquire from his other self, they actually looked nearly primitive, but he wasn't about to start underestimating Zemo now. After his first encounter with Zemo and learning about the chemical brainwashing that made the person chosen to be Zemo both undetectable and absolutely inhuman, he’d spent the last six years chasing after him and cleaning up after his schemes; Tony had learned that lesson.
His hands flew across the console, flicking switches and pressing buttons, pausing to type in the stolen code that had cost Fury some very good men to acquire, and heaved a deep sigh when the low rumbling that had filled the chamber since he first entered it quieted and stopped.
"You did it." Steve was at his elbow, and as Tony turned to look at him, he saw the emotions in his blue eyes and his own breath caught. Then a flicker of movement beyond Steve caught his attention and his eyes narrowed. Steve saw the movement and turned, shield already poised to throw as Zemo reappeared, his machine pistol gone. Instead, Tony saw with a sinking heart, he held a remote control.
Dammit. After all this, all the pain and death and trying so hard to make sure this didn't happen... Tony fiercely cut off his thoughts. It wouldn't happen here. No matter what, he would make sure that Captain America and Bucky walked out of this battle alive.
"Yes, good work, Iron Man," Zemo called down tauntingly. "Too bad that it was all for nothing, ja?" Almost as if in slow motion, Tony saw his finger press the button in the center of the remote control. Of course it would be red, he thought distractedly. The Nazis were never ones to pass up a good cliché.
"Tony...?" Steve's question was interrupted by the sound of the rocket's engines rumbling to life.
"The rocket!" Bucky's eyes were wide. "He's igniting it! But you turned it off!"
"We have to stop it."
Tony felt time slow to a halt at Steve's matter-of-fact words.
He felt as though he were standing in the middle of a thick fog, unseen cotton wool hindering his movements. All he could do was stand there, in front of the console that he'd so easily and confidently made sure was dead, watching as Steve took off at a dead run for the rocket with Bucky close on his heels.
They'd managed to discover enough about the blueprints that they all knew about the failsafe switch on the rocket itself. It was only to be used as their last resort. Tony had sworn to himself that it wouldn't come to that.
Yet here he was, standing still and watching helplessly as Cap and Bucky ran toward the rocket, both of them focused on exactly that switch. The rumbling of the engines increased in pitch and the walls began shaking. Overhead, Tony was aware of Zemo, still trailing self-satisfied chortles, dropping the remote and disappearing through the door he'd come through. If we don't get out of here, Tony thought clearly, we'll all die in the backwash from the engine ignition.
That proved to be the spark that reignited his mobility. Swearing loudly, he activated his crippled thrusters. They might not be capable of getting him off the ground again, but they could catch him up to Steve and Bucky as they were clambering up the ladder along the outside of the rocket. Steve was only inches away from the switch, fingers stretching toward it, when the rocket lifted out of its cradle.
"Hang on!" Steve screamed down to Bucky, the rushing winds whipping away his words. Bucky nodded frantically at him, his fingers white knuckled around the steel rungs. Tony grabbed the ladder, letting himself be hauled along with the rocket on its course as he tried frantically to figure out how to get them all out of this mess. He tried signaling Jarvis, but got another burst of static in his ear for his efforts. Maybe Rhodey was down on the ground, had seen them... but what good would that do? War Machine's flight was limited to long jumps, and there was no way he'd be able to reach the altitude necessary to save them. To save Steve. Somehow, Tony suspected that dying alongside the man he had known he loved for the last few years was not what the other world him had meant when he had made Tony promise to take care of him.
Cap crawled painfully up another rung, sweat streaming down his face from the effort, and bashed in the emergency failsafe with the heel of his hand. For an instant, they all stared at the red light that glared forth from the switch. The countdown had started. The failsafe wouldn’t work now. Zemo’s goal of taking out one of the most important American cities would succeed if they didn’t stop the missile somehow. With his thrusters out, Tony couldn’t just fly them all away; if that were an option, he could just rip apart the targeting system and make the missile explode over the ocean where it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Tony's mind raced, the seconds crawling past as he watched the timer count down.
23
Communications were out. He didn't know where the airship was.
22
War Machine couldn't reach them.
21
The ground spiraled further away with every second.
20
Tony glanced at Steve, seeing the knowledge written in his eyes; resignation, the grief.
19
Bucky's eyes were wild, the truth not hitting him yet.
18
Memories exploded in his head. So many times Tony had sacrificed himself to save Cap. So many.
17
The one overriding factor in all of them: The world needed Captain America more than it needed Iron Man.
16
Another look at Steve's face, imprinting it into his memory.
15
Some things didn't change. A symbol of courage and hope was a hell of a lot more important than some crazy adventurer.
14
Unlocking one hand from the rungs, Tony jammed his gauntlet into a trigger at his hip.
13
The flare whistled past, already behind them at the speed they were moving, and exploded in a red burst.
12
Steve stared at him, eyes wide and confused, and Tony shook his head.
11
"Sorry." Even the slightest chance, however remote, of surviving the fall (of being frozen alive for decades) was better than dying like this.
10
He shoved. Hard. Forced himself not to watch as his partners, his friends, fell away into thin air.
9
Please let War Machine have seen that flare.
8
A spark of light drew his attention and he lifted his head, squinting painfully against the gale.
7
The airship.
6
Jarvis must've followed them from the minute the missile launched.
5
Tony allowed himself to hope.
4
He reached down, past the metal shell of the missile, tearing with the gauntlet, and pulled.
3
Metal shrieked. The missile bucked wildly.
2
Tony bared his teeth in a fierce grin beneath his helmet. If nothing else, no more innocent people would die by Zemo's hand today.
1
The world exploded.