Disclaimer: No, I absolutely do not own the Avengers.

A/N: So, my very first Avengers fic. Or at least the first that's actually finished. This was part of my NaNoWrimo this year (along with a few other fics that I will eventually post) and I hope I did the characters justice. This takes place between Avengers and Age of Ultron. It's set not long after the first movie, so the team is still kinda new. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story!

"Stark. Stark, can you hear me?"

"Gruphelnma."

"Try using real words, Stark."

Tony forced his eyes open and then blinked sluggishly in an effort to clear the haze. His mouth was ridiculously dry, and his throbbing head seemed to be protesting the fact he was conscious. As the fog gradually cleared he became aware of two things. Two very important things.

One was that he wasn't wearing a shirt and the concrete rubbing against his chest felt like sandpaper.

The second was that he wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Or his lab, for that matter.

He muttered a curse under his breath as he pushed himself up, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs along the way. Every muscle ached as he moved, and the throbbing in his head increased until his stomach nearly revolted by relieving itself of its contents. He pushed the nausea away and swallowed thickly as he settled into a sitting position with his back leaning against an equally rough wall.

"Took you long enough."

The voice was familiar. He knew it instantly. His gaze flickered around the room, taking in every detail he could in the dim light, but after three passes he came to the conclusion that he was, in fact, alone in the bare room.

"Great," he said aloud. "So either I'm having auditory hallucinations or…."

"There's a microphone," the voice of his invisible friend added for him.

"Or that. You there, Romanoff?"

"Yes."

"Great." He used the wall to stand up and forced himself to remain standing through the dizzy spell. "Where exactly?"

"In a room. Identical to yours by the looks of it."

Tony frowned and quickly assessed the room again, but once again came up empty handed. "Can you see me?"

"Yes." There was a second's pause before Romanoff continued. "Can you not see me?"

"No," he answered. He didn't need to point out how bad of a sign that was. Romanoff would no doubt have figured out the ramifications by now all on her own.

"There's a small screen on the upper portion of a wall here. You're being recorded."

"Position of the camera?"

"Your three o'clock. Overhead. Probably in the corner."

He followed her instructions and moved closer to the corner in question. It was the darkest section of the room, but upon closer inspection he could make out a camera bolted near the ceiling. It was a small camera, but Tony still berated himself for not noticing it sooner.

With his patented cocky half smile he gave the device a little wave.

"To anyone else who might be listening," he began as he turned to search for the communication device. "Your hospitality is lacking. I would have expected at least a bed. Maybe a chocolate on my pillow. Don't expect good reviews when we get out of here."

He thought he heard an amused scoff from Romanoff, but he could have imaged it.

"I don't suppose you remember how we got here?" he asked, letting his fingers trail along the wall as he walked. To an outside observer it might look as if he were simply bored.

"Do you not remember?"

"The details are a little blurry," he answered flatly, ignoring the fact that having so little memory of what happened probably meant he had a head wound of some kind.

"Charity gala. You got a note. Went out back and…"

"It was a trap."

He vaguely remembered that part. At least enough of it to put the pieces together. The note had read 'Bomb outside. Run.' He, of course, didn't run. Instead he'd sent a quick message to Happy and Pepper while heading for the back of the building. His gala, his responsibility. Unfortunately, Happy had his briefcase suit. He hadn't thought the note was real though. It wouldn't be the first false alarm at a SI event. And there had been that time when the reporters had tricked him into going outside after he'd denied them entrance to a fundraiser.

This time it hadn't been a hoax though. As soon as he'd stepped outside he'd been enveloped in a cloud of smoke. The fumes had made his eyes water and his lungs spasm. The next thing he knew something hard had hit him from behind.

Tony reached up and touched the back of his head. Sure enough, a lump of impressive size was there and, judging by the crusty red residue left on his fingers, there was a gash to go along with it.

"What were you doing there?" he asked. There was no way any of the Avengers or SHEILD could have been notified in time for someone to actually show up. Romanoff had to have been on her way beforehand, or already there.

"SHIELD caught some chatter," the disembodied voice of his teammate explained.

Tony rolled his eyes and leaned back against a wall. Beside him a small circular crevice in the otherwise pristine wall housed what he was sure was the intercom. It was about shoulder height, which would account for the way Romanoff's voice reverberated around the room. The crevice was too small for a hand, and he had no doubt the devise would be imbedded into the wall anyway, considering the precautions and planning that had obviously been taken.

"When don't they? Who wants me dead this time?"

There wasn't an answer right away, and he could practically picture Romanoff debating whether or not to answer. It really wasn't fair that she could see him, but he couldn't see her. He wasn't a fan of this set up for many reasons.

"Unknown," Romanoff finally answered. "We received the intel that there would be an attempt to abduct you. I was sent to check."

Babysit. She meant babysit.

"And now here we both are. Well done." He resisted the urge to rub his eyes as the headache continued to throb inside his head. "How did they manage to grab you?"

"They were already driving off with you when I got there. I let myself be captured. How's your head?"

That was a fast change of subject, Tony thought to himself. He got the hint though. No more talking about assassins getting captured by unknown abductors. "Fine," he answered blandly. "How's yours?"

"Not bleeding," she answered in the same unemotional tone. "I'm unharmed. Just drugged."

"Just drugged." Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Know with what?"

"No."

It was then that he realized something. In all the time they'd been talking, her voice had never wavered in volume. If she'd moved away or towards the intercom, it was likely that the sound of her voice would have changed, even just slightly, but it hadn't. "Are you tied up?"

"Restrained to a chair facing the screen. It's bolted to the floor."

"I'm not."

"No."

"Facing the screen?"

"Yes."

Tony lowered himself to the floor to wait. There wasn't much more they could do until their captors showed up and they could better assess the situation. "That's promising. Maybe you could ask them to change the channel for you."

"Stark…."

The change in her voice was subtle. If he hadn't heard her speak so often, he wouldn't have noticed. As it was, he caught the slight warning. The very subtle edge to her crisp tone. She wanted him to face the situation. The situation that was looking more and more dire for him. If Barton were here, he'd probably be able to infer even more, but what Tony got out of the single word was enough.

"I know," he interrupted seriously. His own subtle promise. He wouldn't tell them anything. No codes or secrets or weapons. And she wouldn't tell them anything either, which would likely lead to more pain for both of them. "Kinda weird they want you to watch, instead of me watching you."

"It's for the psychological aspect."

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"I've seen it go either way."

He decided he wouldn't ask about that right now, but he made a mental note to look into it later. Before he could fill the void with more questions or comments, the door of his room was pushed open. It was heavy apparently, and took a few seconds to open fully. He stood up automatically, and for a split-second the memory of Yinsen urging him to stand and hold up his hands flashed before his mind's eye. He refused to go that far though.

"Was wondering when the hosts would show up," he said nonchalantly in greeting. His gaze swept over the four men who entered. One was tall and bulky. Two others were average all around. His attention landed on the last man to enter. Sandy colored hair, a single streak of gray on the side, dark blue eyes, and a light-hearted smile plastered on his face that was obviously well-practiced for the sake of publicity and press. Tony knew that kind of smile well. He recognized the man from somewhere, but couldn't place the face with a name. He seemed to be the ring-leader here. At least of this little welcome committee. "You might want to fire your decorator."

"The room's specifications are my own design, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to hear they're not up to your expectations," Boss Man replied. His clothes were tailored. Casual, but expensive. Tony figured he wasn't planning on getting his hands dirty.

"Well, I've been told I have high expectations sometimes," Tony said, his own calm, press worthy smile gracing his face. "If you wanted my opinion on your house décor you could have just asked."

"I was afraid just asking wouldn't get the desired results."

"But kidnapping will?"

Boss Man shrugged one shoulder. "I have my reasons, Mr. Stark."

"I don't suppose you'd like to fill me in on those reasons?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Boss Man's smile turned cocky, challenging.

"I won't be designing you any weapons. Got out of that business awhile back, in case you didn't hear," Tony said, his eyes narrowing and darkening. "And as for money…."

"I'm not interested in your money." The shark in disguise smile returned before Boss Man walked over to him and slung an arm over his shoulders.

Tony tensed, but didn't move away. The two guns pointed at him were a pretty good deterrent. Boss Man walked him to the center of the room, and turned so they were directly facing the camera. "Wave goodbye to Agent Romanoff, Stark. There's a good possibility that you won't be seeing her again."