I know how to unlock that brain of yours, and I will. Right at the very moment that I take away everything that you used to love so you can watch it all die.

The sound of your commander's voice was echoing in your mind as your hand raised towards Tony. You were doing what you were told, so why was he threatening you? It was a warning that he had also given once before you were transitioned, but maybe it wasn't a warning at all. Maybe this was the plan all along, to unlock your mind at this exact moment so you could really watch; so you could really feel it and suffer the pain that he thought you deserved.

Now his voice wasn't an echo of a memory, but a real sound coming through your comm with a plain tone and intonation that you immediately recognized but were powerless to stop. Much the same way that Bucky had been turned into the soldier with his trigger words, you were to be released with yours, having been chosen carefully to mean something to you and to draw you out.

"Inseparable" You had always believed that this was you and Steve, inseparable through any situation, always connected and always finding each other despite any obstacles. But this time, your separation was a jagged fracture between you that may never heal properly. You had always thought this was you and Steve; but in reality, the word belonged to you and Tony. No one had stood by you like he had, unwavering in his commitment to you, no matter how rocky the years together had been. Even now, here he was, ready to give his last breath if it meant bringing you home. Here he was, standing on the other end of your weapon, and he still had love in his eyes.

"Bliss" It had been a part of your life so many times, so many of them because of Tony, because of Steve, times with your kids, and just in little moments during the most ordinary days to remind you of the gifts you had been given. It was a feeling that you wouldn't recognize now if it came again.

"Again" There's always something. Always one more thing. Always a disruption trying to take away the things you loved. It was why you never slept too deeply anymore, and why you had given yourself up to Hydra now. So it would just stop.

"Acceptance" You were a Stark. A real Stark, as it had turned out, and it was all that you had ever wanted. But you were also created by Hydra, and those two identities were incompatible like none other. But at the same time, you couldn't accept one without the other.

"Three" No. You won't think about them like this.

"Webs" Stark and Hydra, Rogers and Hydra, Hydra and SHIELD, Rogers and Stark, Stark and SHIELD, the list went on and on. Everything in your life was tangled and twisted into each other, in ways that you didn't even recognize yet. The definition of yourself was muddled and lost, tied up in the webs that confined you here, even as your former team was desperately trying to free you.

"Truth" Truth is a lie. The two had become so intertwined now that the lines between them blurred until they were the same.

"Awakening" When your eyes opened this morning, you were this person. You were a soldier for a cause that was never yours; you were a soldier in a regime that you had fought for years. You had become the enemy, just as you were told that you were born to become, and the suit fit you unnervingly well.

"Monsters" You are a monster. You will never be anything else now. How could you be?

"Stark" Tony. Dad. The one man who would never hurt you. But now you had hurt him, and he wasn't moving.

"Dad!" you screamed out as your mind became your own again, throwing your gun to the ground and breaking into a sprint towards him. "No, no, no, Dad, come on!" You dropped to your knees at his side, fighting away the hands that were trying to grab you to keep you back. Ripping his shirt open so you could see where your bullet had struck him, you couldn't stop the river of tears streaming down your face as you struggled to maintain your composure. Your hands were pressed firmly against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was merely bubbling up between your fingers despite your efforts, and you could see him leaving you.

"Dad, I'm sorry," you whimpered, leaning next to his ear in the hopes that he could hear you. "I didn't mean to. I didn't. I love you."

Steve's hands gripped your shoulders and pulled you back, not listening to your cries for him to let you go so you could stay next to Tony, but Sam and Clint were hurrying to get him inside the jet and to find help. "Let them go, (Y/N). Get in the jet, we need to find a hospital."

"Let go of me," you snapped, pulling away and turning to face him. "Don't ever touch me again!"

"(Y/N), come on, just get in the jet-" he stopped short, your fist slamming into his jaw. He stumbled back, but didn't go as you were ordering him to, planting his feet in case you came at him again. "Please, (Y/N)."

"This is all your fault! I killed him and it's your fault, Steve! You started this!" Your eyes darted to the gun that you had disposed of minutes before, and it didn't miss his attention. You both hurried to it and dropped to the ground to grab it, but you came up as the victor, aiming it at him with that same coldness in your eyes that you had worn when they first arrived. "Leave."

"(Y/N)-"

"(Y/N) died here today, that's how this story will read. Get on the jet right now, and leave. Don't even so much as think my name again."

"Steve come on!" Natasha yelled to him from the jet door. "We need to go!"

When he didn't move, even with the pleading urgency in Natasha's voice, you decided to give him a little nudge in the right direction. Your gun went off for a second time that day, this time with your bullet piercing Steve's shoulder. "Is this how you want to play, Steve? Because I'll play. This isn't Hydra. This is me. You don't want me getting into that jet with you."

"Jesus Christ, (Y/N)!" Bucky joined in, rushing forward to help Steve into the plane. "Get in the goddamn jet!"

"Tell them I love them, Buck," you replied, strikingly much more quiet than him. You held your weapon steady and backed away, allowing yourself one last thought about your children before closing that part of your mind and yourself away for good. This was too much, and you couldn't go back to them as the person who took their Papa away; you couldn't look at them knowing that you hated their father this much. It was easier this way, you told yourself. It was easier for everyone.

~~~

Bucky almost wasn't strong enough to drag Steve onto the jet, but with Sam's help they were able to get him in far enough to close the door and take off. He fought them every inch of the way, refusing to go without you, even when you had made it so clear that you wanted nothing to do with him. He wouldn't believe that it was you talking to him that way, after seeing what you had done to Tony; he knew that it wasn't you, and no one could convince him otherwise.

"Steve, come on, man, this doesn't mean we're giving up," Sam tried to reassure him, sitting on the jet floor next to his friend. "There's no way any of us are giving up. Tony would never let us." He glanced over at his lifeless teammate for a flash of a second before lowering his head and finally giving in, allowing his emotions to come out for a man that he never thought he would feel anything for. "This is total shit, Steve. I can't believe they did that to her. To make her do this and then pull her back to watch."

"It's Hydra, Sam," Steve scoffed, "they aren't known for being nice."

"Yeah, but this is on a whole other level. Her eyes..." he paused, quietly sniffling with a quick swipe of his arm over his face, "did you see 'em? I've never seen pain like that. Even when Bucky and I had to pull you off her after her accident. I thought you were falling apart, but (Y/N)...I'm really scared for her, Steve."

"I'll get her back."

"You should put that on a t-shirt," Sam chuckled quietly, his head still down.

"Yeah, I know, I've said that before. Doesn't make it any less true, Sam." Steve sighed and pushed himself back against the wall of the jet, finally allowing himself to feel the aching fatigue in his muscles, and the stinging of the wound you had left in his shoulder. Nat heard him wince with the movement and shifted herself next to him, helping him to take off the outer layer of his uniform so she could see what you had done.

"You want me to remove it?"

"Nah, I can," he replied flatly, "just grab me the kit. This is the second time that she's shot me. I'm getting used to it." He took the small tweezers and mirror from her and got to work, barely making a sound while exploring the hole you had left until he grabbed the end of the slug and tossed it aside. Steve couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the sound of Sam's quiet whine as he watched him work. "If you're gonna be a baby about it, don't look."

"I'm sorry, but that's nasty," he replied with a shake of his head. Before he could say more, the jet shifted position and slowed, signaling their arrival back home. Steve slammed his head back purposefully against the wall with a string of curses under his breath, bringing his closed fists to his eyes in anger as Sam looked on. "Hey, I told you, we're not giving up on her. Help us get Tony inside, alright? We'll get a plan together and we can go again."

The door was barely open before Bruce was pushing his way in, his hands full of monitors and medications that were quickly dropped at Tony's side. "How long has he been down? Exactly when did his heart stop? How much blood did he lose? Where's the entry? Was there an exit wound?"

"Banner-"

"He's not dead, Steve," Bruce snapped, "not until I say so. Barton, I need you on compressions." His hands were a flurry of action over Tony, putting the heart monitor on first, only to sigh loudly at the long, droning sound of a flat heartbeat from it. The needle was in Tony's arm so fast that anyone watching could have missed it, and he was pushing drug after drug into his friend's vein, desperately hoping for just one of them to do something. "Dammit, Tony, not until I say so..."

Everyone held their breath and watched, eyes wide and fixed on the monitor with each push of medication; Clint jumped in response when the shock went though Tony's chest, making him jolt on the table before going limp again. It happened four more times, and he jumped with each one.

"Doc," he whispered, "I think you should stop."

"I'm not out of tricks just yet," Bruce argued, pulling a cap from yet another syringe with his teeth, but this time the needle was frighteningly large; enough so that Sam spun around to face away, his hand pressed against the wall to keep himself upright.

"Shit, I know what he's doing..."

"What's he doing?" Steve whispered, unable to force himself to look away.

"Don't watch, man, I'm telling ya."

"Intracardiac injection of Epinephrine," Bruce answered for him. "It's the last thing I can try. Putting it directly into the left ventricle can be more effective than using an IV, but that's not solidly proven. Not like we have anything to lose. I think the chest is usually open for this, so I have to make my best guess at where to go in..." he stopped, taking a deep breath, "...right...there."

"Oh, god," Steve groaned, turning away as Sam had, but too late to have avoided the sight. "You were right."

"You never listen to me."

The first beep spun the two men back around, their own hearts suddenly racing in their chests at the amazing sound filling the cabin. The second beep came after a long pause, but the third and fourth came much faster until a very slow but at least steady rhythm played across the screen.

"Tony Stark, you stubborn son of a bitch," Clint smiled, pulling Nat into his chest tightly when he saw the tears building in her eyes, "you really are Iron Man."