Chapter 18

January 16th, 2014

Sam Wilson's House, Washington D.C.

Sam and Steve had spent yesterday translating and discussing the Kiev file, and it looked like today was shaping up to be more of the same.

"You know," Sam had said yesterday, "You might've asked the ex-Russian spy to translate this for you before she took off for who knows where."

"She's done so much already," Steve replied, looking from the open file to the Google Translate tab on Sam's home computer. "And she didn't sign up for this."

"Yeah, yeah."

So they'd been struggling with Google Translate for a day now, picking out locations of bases the Winter Soldier might have gone back to. Sam's loungeroom was mess of paperwork, dirty dishes and takeout wrappers – if Sam couldn't get Steve to rest after being shot a bunch of times, he was damn well going to keep him properly fed.

They'd dropped Sam's bloody shirt off at an airstrip outside the city yesterday afternoon. Sam had tried to look tough and not at all like he was super excited to meet Tony Stark while Steve handed the bagged shirt to the man himself. Stark was wearing an expensive-looking suit and vibrant orange sunglasses, and shook Steve and Sam's hands at the foot of the stairs to his private jet. Sam thought his first meeting with Stark went well, even though he'd been called "bird-man" and "Maverick" and "fly boy". He'd had worse, as far as nicknames went.

Stark had been mostly occupied with giving them nicknames, but he'd given it a rest for about a minute when he told Steve that he was going through the information dump, and that HYDRA had been doing some messed up shit. He also asked about the blood, but didn't seem too displeased when Steve wouldn't elaborate on it. Stark said he was going to do the DNA testing himself, but apparently even with all his fancy toys it would take at least half a day.

It was nearing midday now, and Steve and Sam had gotten through a good chunk of the pile. They'd emailed the locations of a few HYDRA and ex-Soviet facilities to Nick Fury, in case they weren't in the information dump. So far they didn't have anything on where Barnes might be, though. Mostly just a better knowledge of all the horrible shit that had been done to him, and that he had been made to do. Sam had forced Steve to take a break for lunch, and they were plowing through sandwiches at Sam's dining table.

Sam happened to glance out the window, contemplating ducking out to get milk or something – anything to take a break from the file and the messed-up people who had written it.

Since he was looking out the window, he got a prime view of Iron Man when he hurtled into Sam's backyard, repulsors roaring and slitted eyes glowing, and put a crater in the lawn.

"Holy shit!" Sam jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair, and stumbled toward the screen door.

"What the…" Steve muttered, also rising.

The red and gold Iron Man suit stepped out of the charred crater in Sam's backyard and marched toward the house.

Sam flung the screen door open. "C'mon, man, a little respect for the garden-" but Stark simply brushed him aside as he stomped into the living room, the suit whirring and whining as he moved. Sam bounced off the metal shoulder of the suit, wincing, and shot an alarmed look at Steve.

Steve was standing by the dining table, sandwich forgotten. "Tony, what-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the suit clicked and unfolded, the metal sliding apart to reveal Stark, in stained jeans and an AC/DC shirt. He looked like he'd come straight from his lab. Sam, about to protest the defacement of his backyard again, shut his mouth. The dude was pissed.

Stark produced the plastic bag with the bloody shirt and stormed toward Steve. "Where did you get this?" He brandished the bag in Steve's face. His eyes were shot with red, and there was a barely concealed fury in his voice. "No secrets or bullshit, tell me where you got this blood."

Steve opened his mouth, taken aback. "Tony, I…" He didn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, staring at Tony's sparking eyes and clenched jaw. The billionaire was about four inches shorter than the super soldier but he was right up in Steve's face, glaring. The Iron Man suit was standing, unfolded, just inside the screen door.

Tony glared at Steve for a second longer, then whirled around and strode toward Sam, who took a step back from the sheer force of Stark's intensity.

"Come on, Wilson," Stark hissed. His whole bearing was aggressive, and his breath came fast and hard. Sam hadn't thought Stark remembered his name. "This is your shirt, isn't it? Where'd the blood come from?"

Sam backed right up against his own window, completely unprepared for facing a furious Tony Stark.

Seeing Sam cornered by Tony sparked Steve into action. He followed Tony across the living room and got between him and Sam, palm out. "Tony, back off. What did you find?"

"No." Stark's eyes were wild, and Sam noticed that his knuckles were white where they gripped the bag. "You came to me, you give me answers now. Where did you get the blood?" There were a few more seconds of silence from Steve, filled with Tony's erratic breathing. "Goddammit Rogers, if I have to beat it out of you-"

"The Wyvern," Steve spat out, his brow heavy in that way that made you want to listen to him. Sam could only watch. "One of HYDRA's combatants on the Helicarriers. She fought Sam, left blood on his shirt."

Tony whirled around. "J.A.R.V.I.S." The dormant suit kicked back into life, reforming into the more recognisable Iron Man, and held out a palm. Blue light glowed from the extended palm, resolving itself into a hologram of the Wyvern – it looked like it was taken from a photograph of the Wyvern in flight during the Helicarrier battle. The lines of her suit and wings were depicted in clean blue lines, and her goggles were tiny red pinpricks.

Sam couldn't even appreciate the awesome-factor of a projected hologram in his own living room, because Stark's whole body was clenched with aggression and something else – something familiar. Sam and Steve sidled around so they could see the hologram and Tony's haggard face. He looked like he'd been working all night.

Sam flinched when a British voice emanated from the suit: "It appears that the Wyvern is a covert HYDRA assassin with flight capability, who fought Captain Rogers and his allies on a metropolitan D.C. causeway on the 11th, and on the Insight Helicarriers on the 12th. I can find no record of the Wyvern prior to those dates. I have begun sifting through the S.H.I.E.L.D. information dump for mention of the Wyvern, but it will take time, sir."

Tony stared at the revolving image of the Wyvern, all hard metal and red eyes. "What, no mug shots?" His voice was tight, and the knowledge didn't seem to have calmed him down. In fact, his breathing was speeding up. Sam could see his chest heaving. Sam took half a step forward, then thought better of it.

"None, sir. There are no other images of the Wyvern that I can find."

Tony started hyperventilating in earnest now, his breathing hard and fast as sweat beaded on his forehead. He took a step away from the hologram, and stumbled.

Steve jumped forward and caught him by the elbow. "Tony, what's wrong?"

"Calm down Steve, it's just a panic attack," Tony laughed breathlessly at his own joke, gripping the arm supporting him.

Iron Man landing in his backyard? Tony Stark yelling at him? Sam had been clueless. But this… this he could handle.

Sam jumped in, taking Stark's sweaty arm and leading him to the couch. "Alright, have you had a panic attack before?" At Stark's shaky nod, he lowered him onto the cushions. "What's helped in the past?"

Stark started taking sharp breaths through his nose, his eyes still wide. Sam sat next to him, keeping one hand on the man's trembling arm. Steve hovered beside the couch, seeming kind of small despite his bulk in the face of his friend's distress.

Sam nodded, watching Stark's breathing even out. "Good, that's good. It'll pass, man, you've just got to keep breathing. Come on, I bet you've got some expensive-ass therapists, what did they tell you to do?"

Tony closed his eyes, and kept controlling his breathing. He was visibly starting to calm down, so Sam pulled his focus up.

"Steve, get him some water."

Steve was gone and back in an instant, pressing a cold glass into Stark's hands. The man took a long drink, the haunted look starting to fade from his face. When he was done, he leaned over on the couch and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You work nights as a therapist or something?" He eventually asked, his voice much steadier.

Sam laughed. "Days, actually. Though I haven't been back since I helped blow up an intelligence agency."

"Should've stuck to your day job."

"Probably."

Steve and Sam shared a look over Stark's head: an I don't know what the hell is happening but let's keep this guy calm look.

Stark finally looked up and scrubbed his palms on his jeans – probably not wiping the sweat off so much as collecting motor oil. He squinted up at Steve, who was still hovering by the couch. "Alright, Steve, settle down. I'm going to tell you what I found."

"I just want to make sure you're alright, Tony." Steve gave him an earnest expression that Sam honestly thought should be patented. It worked, too – Stark's hackles lowered, and he got to his feet.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., the test results?"

The revolving hologram of the Wyvern switched to a whole bunch of graphs and tables. Sam stood up to get a better look, but he couldn't make heads or tails of the results: to him it was a colourful zig-zagging line with numbers surrounding it.

"This is the DNA markup for the blood sample from your shirt, closet therapist," Tony explained, gesturing at the hologram. Steve and Sam were blank faced.

"I've got no idea what I'm looking at, Tony," Steve eventually sighed.

Tony clicked his fingers and the suit's other palm rose, projecting another set of holographic graphs. "These… are my DNA results." The palms of the suit came side-by-side, so Steve and Sam could compare the two graphs.

Sam cleared his throat. "They're… not the same."

"Gold star, Captain Obvious," Stark said. His tone was light, but Sam could hear the tight edge of tension under his voice. "No, but they're a lot more similar than I expected. The sample from your shirt shares a fifty per cent similarity to my own DNA." He pointed at a particularly jagged section of the colourful graph in one projection, and drew a line to a similar section in the other.

There was a silent pause. Sam had done high school science, he knew enough to have some idea of what that meant. Steve had caught up on modern science as well. Still, neither of them fully understood.

"What are you saying, Tony?" Steve asked.

"What am I saying," Stark breathed, shaking his head at the combined graphs. He looked exhausted. "I'm saying… I'm saying that I think this blood belongs to my sister."

There was a very long silence after that. Stark didn't look away from the graphs. Steve didn't look away from Tony, and Sam couldn't stop glancing between the three: graphs, Stark, Steve.

Sam broke the silence. "But… she died, right? Years ago. I was a kid when it happened."

Stark stayed silent, seemingly lost in thought as he contemplated the hologram.

"1991," Steve added, his voice soft. "I heard about it when I came out of the ice. Tony?"

Stark ran a hand through his hair. "That's what I thought." His voice was hoarse. "But I ran the sample against my parents: fifty per cent match to each of them. I found an old blood test of M- of Maggie's." He gestured at the suit, and a new hologram appeared from the left hand. This one was identical to the one on the right, as far as Sam could see. "It's a match."

Stark turned to face Steve and Sam, and his eyes were painfully bright. "I quadruple checked these results, and when they kept coming back the same, I came straight here. I need you to explain."

Sam glanced at Steve. They both knew that Tony already had the explanation, that he just needed it spelled out.

"If these test results are right, Tony…" Steve straightened his shoulders. "Then your sister is alive."

The breath gusted out of Stark's chest, and he brought his hand up to his eyes, as if he could hide from what he'd found. Sam reached a hand out, but he didn't know what to do. He still didn't understand, how could-

"I've gotta… I've gotta go," Stark mumbled, and stepped toward his suit. A second later he was enfolded in the metal shell, the eyes glowing, and he was walking back out the door.

"Tony, wait-" Steve called, but there was a whine of repulsors, and Stark was gone.

Sam put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor, trying to process what had just happened.

"Sam, you okay?" Steve's voice was low. Sam glanced up, and saw that Steve was still looking out at the crater in the lawn.

"Me? Yeah, man, I'm fine, he just…" he trailed off.

"I know." Steve turned, his jaw set and his eyes troubled. "C'mon. We're going to New York."

Container Ship, The Gulf of Mexico

Bucky and the Wyvern sat side by side against the wall of a shipping container, sharing body heat in the freezing afternoon air. It had been a long, cold night and morning, and even their enhanced metabolisms and extra clothes hadn't been enough to keep the chill away.

Neither of the former assets had yet had a sleep uninterrupted by nightmares, but something about the cold metal under their backs last night seemed to make it worse. Bucky had had to clamp a hand over the Wyvern's mouth to stop her screaming in her sleep and alerting the crew to their position. When Bucky had tried to sleep, the Wyvern ended up smothering his screams as well. She'd also absorbed a panicked blow from his metal arm, to stop the limb slamming straight through the top of the container below them. After that, Bucky had pushed himself into the corner and not said a word for hours, his face gaunt and creased with remorse.

So neither of them had gotten much sleep. They spent their time eating and occasionally whispering to each other. Bucky often closed his eyes and seemed to slip into his memories, occasionally flinching or frowning at what he found. Without anything to distract her, the Wyvern got caught up in her own head.

She couldn't imagine having done this by herself. Even if she'd somehow broken through HYDRA's programming on her own, running and hiding like this would have been incredibly lonely. She frowned at that – she'd been alone for years, even when she was surrounded by HYDRA agents. Why should she be frightened of it now?

But when Bucky shifted, pressing his warm right arm against her side and drawing his knees closer to his chest as he subjected himself to his own memories, she knew why. She was getting her mind back, and the prospect of doing that without having someone to confirm her memories, someone to watch over her while she was strangled by nightmares, someone who knew the chaos in her mind… the loneliness of that prospect made her shudder.

She'd remembered something during the night. Not a victim, or a particular brand of torture that had been inflicted on her, but a memory that she suspected predated HYDRA. If she closed her eyes now, she could see it: a young man with dark hair and eyes, laughing over the deconstructed parts of an engine. She couldn't remember the sound of his laughter, but the image of him with his head ducked and his teeth bared in a smile… that was clear. There was no context with the memory, but she knew it was real.

She could feel more remembrances, more sparks of memory floating just below the surface of her conscious mind. But she couldn't force them to show themselves, no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated. She supposed she'd have to wait. Or go back to sleep, but just the thought of waking with a scream again was exhausting.

The Wyvern arched her back, wincing at the cold that had seeped into her metal-reinforced spine. She turned her head slightly to look at Bucky. He'd looked up from his thoughts, gaze now fixed on the grey sky.

"What made you wake up?" the Wyvern whispered, her voice scratchy from exhaustion.

He shot her a quizzical look.

"What made you… wake up from the programming?" She clarified. "Disobey your orders?"

Bucky nodded his understanding, looking at his folded knees. The stubble on his jaw had grown enough to form a rough beard. It looked uncomfortable. "The target," he eventually murmured. "He kept saying that he knew me, that I knew him, and then… he said something that made me remember. Something that I think… I think I said it to him. Once." He went quiet, lost in thought.

"The target helped me to remember as well."

Bucky looked up. "Really?"

"Yes. We fought him on the street, and he said your name. The idea that a weapon could have a name… it startled me." She shot him a look, her mouth twisting.

"I don't remember," he frowned. "They… wiped us?"

"You, but not me. And you were empty again. While I was on the Helicarrier I heard you speak, heard your voice, and it was nothing like what you'd been the day before. It… shook something loose, inside me. I remembered that you were my mission, and I realised that either HYDRA's mission would fail, or you would be killed. I made a decision." She shrugged. "And I think knowing that you had a name helped me remember that I had one too."

"Margaret," said Bucky.

Her head jerked up and she stared at him. He remembered?

He gave her a sad smile. "I remember saying it to you before. A few times. I remember the name from…" his brow furrowed. "I think from when you were my mission the first time. Margaret."

His voice saying the name made her shiver. There was an ache in the hollow of her chest, pushing outward.

"It's too long," she whispered.

"The name?"

She nodded, frowning.

He thought about it. "How about Meg?"

The Wyvern – Margaret, Meg – shrugged. Could a name belong to her?

"Do you want me to call you that?" Bucky shifted so he could see her face better in the pale light. The sudden lack of warmth at her side was shocking, and she shivered. "Meg?"

The ache in her chest bloomed, rising up her throat and strangling her. She put her hand to her mouth and realised that there were tears spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

"Hey," Bucky murmured, and suddenly his flesh hand was on her shoulder, a warm weight. "If you don't want me to, I won't–"

The Wyvern – Margaret, Meg – shook her head. "I want that," she gasped, and a tentative smile spread across her face. "I want a… I want my name."

Bucky smiled back, and his eyes seemed to glow. "Meg, then."

Meg wiped her tears away, still smiling. The name wasn't quite right, not the perfect fit, but it was so close. And the sound of it in Bucky's voice was a warm thrill down her aching spine. She nodded. "Meg. I'm Meg."

The Wyvern was still inside her, still a large part of how she understood the world. But this: a name, an identity – it felt like a step away from HYDRA, a step towards being a person. She nodded, feeling the name settle over her like a warm cloak.

"I want to find out who I am," she eventually murmured to Bucky, who was still watching her. "I've got the name, and I remember the car crash, and I can work out roughly how old I am. That should be enough to… to track down my identity. Once we get to land."

His grey-blue eyes were warm as he looked at her. "I'll help you, however I can. I've been trying to remember more, but…" he looked away.

"I know," she murmured. "The missions, they… they start to look the same. It's going to take me time, too."

Bucky looked back at her at that, but the remorse and shame didn't leave his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know." Meg held his gaze. "I am too." Once she made sure that he could see – again – that she didn't hold him responsible, she nodded decisively. "When we get to land, we'll find out who I am. Then we'll both know." She frowned. "Does it help? Remembering?"

He sighed. "It… hurts. But yeah, I think it helps, too. Knowing that I'm not just the Winter Soldier. If I can remember, then I'm something… more." He trailed off at the end, quiet, and she could see that he hadn't entirely convinced himself. She put her hand on his knee. "You're Bucky," she told him. "And you're my mission."

That made him smile. "You're my mission, too. Meg."

The gift of her name, and the prospect of finding out about herself, got Meg through another sleepless, freezing night on the shipping container. When the coastline of Mexico came into blurry view on the horizon the next day, she and Bucky shared a glance. They'd escaped from HYDRA and whoever else was searching for them in D.C., but they knew they couldn't stop running. They'd stay ahead of their pursuers, chase their foggy memories, and carry out the mission.

New Jersey Turnpike, New Jersey

"The Wyvern is… Margaret Stark."

Steve didn't bother responding. Sam had been turning over the revelation for the past few hours while they packed up their research, packed Sam's car, and then took off for New York.

Steve didn't blame Sam for his shock. He was still having trouble wrapping his own head around what Tony had told them. He contemplated it as he drove, keeping half an eye on the traffic around them – they might have dealt HYDRA a heavy blow at the Triskelion, but he was well aware that he hadn't seen the last of them.

Sam's feet were on the dash (which Steve couldn't scold him for, given that it was his car) as he scrolled through old articles about Tony's sister on his phone.

When Steve came out of the ice, he learned about Margaret Stark's existence and death in the same moment. She'd been in Tony's file: Sister, Margaret Abigail Stark, born June 2nd 1986, died December 16th 1991 with parents Howard and Maria in a car crash. Steve had been… well, he'd been more upset about Howard's death, if he was honest. Caught up in his own haze of grief and guilt after waking up in the future, a child who died twenty years ago was a memorable, distant tragedy, and nothing more.

Sam had shown him photos a couple of hours ago: one a Stark family portrait; Howard holding a swaddled baby in one arm and his poised-looking wife in the other, with an unsmiling teenage Tony standing to the side. Another photo came from a newspaper article titled "HOWARD STARK'S DAUGHTER FOLLOWS IN HER FATHER'S FOOTSTEPS."

The accompanying image was of Howard, with white hair and a sharp suit, hands on his hips as he looked down at a cute little girl in a neat blue dress, with dark hair and bright eyes. The girl's arms were spread and her mouth was open, as if she was in the middle of an energetic explanation.

Sam had read lines from the article to Steve, explaining that the photo was taken at Tony's 21st birthday party, that at this point Margaret had exhibited a genius-level IQ, that she had built her own circuit board that year and shown an aptitude for mechanics and engineering. Steve hadn't been aware of the younger Stark child's intelligence – he hadn't even considered it. He knocked his head back into his seat rest. What kind of a team leader and a friend was he, if he hadn't even spared one of Tony's own family members a second thought?

Sam didn't seem to be able to get over looking at the image of that cute kid, and comparing it to the HYDRA assassin who'd come after him with her wings and her metal barbs and her red eyes. "I mean I know it's been a long time… but damn."

Sam went from marvelling over Margaret Stark's presence in the newspapers, to shaking his head at the juxtaposition between genius kid and scary assassin, to poring over information about her death.

"I don't get it," he eventually said. "She died. No disappearance, not even a bit of suspicion surrounding the car crash. If she's alive, then what about Howard and Maria? How did HYDRA get her?"

Well that was the question, wasn't it? Steve was grappling with what Zola's computer brain had told him and Natasha. The digital consciousness hadn't said it outright, but…

Steve's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and he had to consciously remind himself not to crush it.

Zola had insinuated that Howard's death wasn't an accident. He could have been lying, Steve told himself. Trying to exaggerate HYDRA's influence, that doesn't mean… Steve shook his head. He didn't know who he was trying to kid. With Zola's confession, and the apparent survival of Margaret in the hands of HYDRA – he couldn't overlook that. And who would HYDRA task with killing one of the greatest minds of the twentieth century?

Steve clenched his jaw. He couldn't know that, couldn't even bring himself to formulate the thought.

"Hey," Sam eventually said, looking up from his phone. "I've been looking at this all wrong. It doesn't matter how they got her – if she's still alive then she's out there somewhere. The whole reason we looked into this is because we thought she might be with Barnes. Do you think…?"

"Think what?"

"I don't know, do you think they're still together? Stark could help us look."

"Maybe," Steve said. "Tony wasn't a part of this, and now he's been thrown in the deep end. I don't want to push him." He frowned, and realised that this was where his grappling thoughts had brought him: Tony's been through enough. Maybe by not telling him… I'm sparing him. The thought settled heavy on Steve's shoulders, somehow heavier than the burden of being Captain America had ever felt.

He drove on, and listened to Sam's continuing realisations.

Avengers Tower, New York City

Steve and Sam arrived at the tower at night, using Steve's access codes to drive straight from the street into the underground tower carpark.

"Welcome back, Captain Rogers," greeted J.A.R.V.I.S. "And welcome, Mr Wilson."

Sam flinched. "Isn't that the voice from Stark's suit?"

Steve parked the car. "That's J.A.R.V.I.S., Tony's A.I. He's in all the suits, and the tower. Kind of like an electronic butler." His brow was still heavy from his thoughts earlier.

Sam scoffed. "Rich people."

"Steve?"

Steve looked up to see a familiar redhead striding across the fluorescently lit carpark. He closed the car door and squared his shoulders. "Pepper, hi."

Pepper reached them. She was wearing an elegant white power suit and she was as poised as ever, but her face was creased with worry. He winced at the concern in her eyes. "What's going on?" she demanded, looking between Steve and Sam.

"I… uh… what's happened?"

She frowned at him. "Tony went out in the suit earlier and when he got back, I… I only saw him for a second, but I don't think I've ever seen him like that. He's locked himself in his workshop." Pepper pressed her hands together, but Steve could still see them shaking. "And now you're here, so I thought…"

Steve and Sam shared a glance. "It's… probably better if Tony explains," Steve said, wincing at the fear that crossed Pepper's face.

"This is because of what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D., isn't it?"

Before Steve could answer, the elevator doors at the end of the garage opened, revealing Colonel Rhodes. He spotted the trio halfway down the carpark, and went to join them.

"Pepper," he called. "Tony's not answering his phone." He was in his uniform, and looked as if he'd rushed here.

Pepper wrung her hands, glancing from Rhodes to Steve. "I know, he… something's wrong, he's locked his lab. I thought you were on base, what are you doing here?"

Rhodes finally reached them and held up his phone. "I just got a call saying that Tony's family's bodies are being exhumed."

Pepper's hand flew to her mouth, and she turned to stare at Steve. Steve closed his eyes. Of course. He should have realised Tony would want all the evidence.

"Cap? You know anything about this?" Rhodes's voice was tense, and Steve remembered that the man would have known Tony's family. He opened his eyes.

Before he could formulate a sentence, though, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice rang out in the carpark.

"Ms Potts, Colonel Rhodes, I have informed Sir of the recent arrivals. He has permitted Ms Potts entry to his workshop."

Pepper let out a long breath. "Okay, okay. Rhodey, Steve, and… I'm sorry…?"

"Sam Wilson," Sam said, and hesitantly held out his hand. It hardly felt like the environment for introductions. But Pepper took his hand with a steely look.

"Alright, you three can settle in, I'll go talk to Tony and see what's going on. Steve, you remember where your rooms are?"

"I do. Thank you, Pepper." He tried to convey with his eyes how bad he felt about the whole situation, and got a weak smile from her in reply. Seconds later she was gone, striding into the elevator and rising out of sight.

Rhodes put his phone in his pocket and sighed. He levelled Steve and Sam with a searching look. "You two alright?"

They nodded.

"Alright, then. I'll see you both upstairs."

"Tony?"

Pepper paced into the quiet workshop, wincing as the click of her heels rang out in the gleaming space. Finally she saw him: he was sitting amongst a field of holographic displays, peering at what looked like a magnified image of cells.

Pepper had only caught a glimpse of his face before he locked himself in his workshop hours ago, but it had made her go cold. She didn't think she'd ever seen a look like that on him: dark eyes burning, his whole face haggard and haunted. It reminded her of the way he'd looked when he thought she'd fallen to her death on the Norco.

Now, he just looked exhausted. There was stubble around his iconic goatee, and heavy bags hung under his eyes.

"Tony," she breathed, and stepped toward him. He didn't try to resist the hug she pulled him into, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Tony, what is going on?"

She pulled back enough to look into his bloodshot eyes.

"Rogers didn't tell you?" he muttered, and flicked away the hologram that Pepper was currently standing in.

"No, he said it was better if you told me."

Tony snorted and pinched his nose. "Well I guess he's got a point. It's…" he sighed. "It's crazy. You won't believe it. I'm not even sure I believe it, and I've got the evidence right here-"

"Tony."

"I think my sister's alive, Pep."

Pepper froze. "I… what?"

Tony couldn't look at her – he fidgeted with his hands, his eyes flicking around the room. "It's… she's…" he swallowed. "J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

Normally Pepper didn't let Tony get away with having the A.I. speak for him, but from the way Tony's throat was working she didn't think he could actually speak right now. She lifted her eyes to one of the nearest holograms.

"A blood sample taken during the Helicarrier battle at the Triskelion on the 12th has indicated that Margaret Abigail Stark is alive, as a powerful HYDRA assassin known as the Wyvern." J.A.R.V.I.S. brought up an image of the Wyvern for Pepper. She brought her hand to her mouth. "The blood sample belongs to Miss Stark, without a doubt, but Sir is currently analysing several anomalies within the blood. He has also ordered for the Stark graves to be exhumed, and has asked Doctor Banner to identify the bodies."

Pepper tore her eyes away from the image of the winged assassin, and looked down at Tony. "Oh, Tony," she breathed, bringing her hands to his face. He didn't pull away.

"I've been trying to see if there's any way someone could have… have taken a sample of her blood from before, or somehow altered this blood to show…" he shook his head. "But it's hers, Pepper. There's some weird stuff – higher levels of metal deposits than normal, and some kind of abnormality, I'm still quantifying it, but…" He rolled backward in his chair, away from Pepper, and looked around at his holographic displays. "I can't believe this until I have definitive proof, Pep, because it's just… it's crazy, Maggie's not… she's not…"

Pepper could see his breaths speeding up, so she closed the distance between them and wrapped him in another hug. Her mind was reeling, but Tony needed her to be calm. He'd told her about his anxiety attacks, and he'd done everything he could to treat them, while supporting her through the Extremis treatments. Just when things had been getting back to some kind of normal, this had happened.

"If it is her, Tony," Pepper tentatively began, "then this could be a good thing."

Tony pressed his forehead into her shoulder. "I don't know. If she's alive, then that means she's been alive for over twenty one years. And I've never…" he pulled away again, gesturing, and another hologram came up. It looked like a list, with dates and short lines of writing. "This is what J.A.R.V.I.S. has pulled so far from the S.H.I.E.L.D. data dump about the Wyvern. There's no file, just references sprinkled here and there in the HYDRA data."

Pepper peered at the scrolling hologram. "What is this?"

Tony picked up a screwdriver from the workbench and started fiddling with it. "From what I can tell? Missions. Assassinations, espionage, extractions. This is just the top of the barrel. The Wyvern… this is a fragment of what she's done. And if the Wyvern is Maggie, Pep, I…" he trailed off again, vaguely gesturing. "I don't know what to do," he eventually finished, hunching over in his chair and pressing his hands to his face.

Pepper didn't know what to say. She put her hands on Tony's shoulders, rubbing back and forth until he pressed his forehead into her stomach. Her hand stroked up the side of his neck and into his hair, trying to impart some kind of comfort.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, Pepper stroking Tony's hair while he hid his face, but whenever she opened her mouth to say it's going to be okay, she couldn't bring herself to actually speak the words.