Tony blinks his eyes open.

The gentle crackle of a campfire lays to his left, soft popping escaping the burning logs. Cicadas and mosquitoes buzz around, alighting his senses with an influx of noise. The fire dances in his sight, green leaves swaying lazily above him in the breeze. Branches cascade over his vision, shrouding him from the darkening sky, dusk approaching as the sun sinks below the distant horizon.

Tony lets out a single soft laugh, closing his eyes as they water.

He's never been so happy to see. To hear.

"You awake again?"

Tony opens his eyes again, eyelids heavy, but manageable. It's Bucky, on his right, a bottle of water opened and in hand.

Tony nods softly, scanning his limited field of vision. Before the question is on his tongue, Bucky answers, "They went to grab the rest of our gear from the base we used. They'll be back soon."

Tony nods, eyes drooping, but he fights to keep them open.

"Water?" Bucky asks, his voice quiet. Tony thinks this is the most he's ever heard him speak.

"Yeah," Tony rasps, trying to leverage himself up. Bucky, though clearly a bit uncomfortable, reaches out to steady him, handing him the opened bottle.

Tony fumbles with it, water sloshing onto his sweat-dried shirt. His hands feel…big and clumsy, like they're not his. He looks down with clearing vision, seeing white bandages ensconcing his wrists, which burn dully in the background of his senses. "Thanks," he says quietly, tipping the water into his mouth. His hands are shaking, and he feels some dribble down his chin and soak into the collar of his shirt again, but he manages to swallow most of it.

He's drunk half the bottle before he's satisfied, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and handing the bottle back to Bucky before he can drop it. Bucky seals it.

Tony leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs and massaging his temples. His head is pounding.

"Headache?" Bucky guesses, voice toneless. "Probably because you haven't eaten in so long. There's some soup; I can heat it."

Tony looks up, nodding. "That…would be great."

Bucky nods wordlessly, putting the tin bowl on two metal bars crisscrossing over the fire, mounted by sticks on each side. After a moment of nothing but the soup slowly bubbling, Tony smiles. "I could…give you a camping stove, if…you wanted." His breath isn't coming easily. He assumes it's exhaustion and weakness.

"I prefer our primitive setup, thank you," Bucky says, and Tony swears he hears a hint of sarcasm. So Bucky can banter.

"Primitive's a…big word," Tony says with a smirk, testing the waters.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Says the walking encyclopedia."

Tony huffs a laugh, and is angry that even that is exhausting. "You're funnier than…you look."

Bucky shrugs, taking the bowl off the makeshift stove and setting it on the grass quickly, letting it cool. "Someone has to be, with Clint's comic-relief tendencies. He gets cranky if no one banters with him."

Tony hums in consideration, looking around. They're in a small clearing deep in the forest, he assumes, if the noisy wildlife is anything to go by. Large trees surround them, thick roots splaying out in curving streams, edging into one another. The thick trunks are decorated with gouges and cuts, and Tony knows this area has seen a lot of foot traffic, once upon a time.

The clearing itself sports lush green grass, soft dirt pliant beneath his fingers. The dirt must be rich, if the fauna is growing so well.

"Where are we?" He asked as Bucky hands him the cooled bowl and a tin spoon.

"Old camping ground," he replies, standing and brushing the grass off his pants, crossing to one of the bags lying on the other side of the fire. Tony watches him warily, a habit he can't break. "It hasn't been used in years. Too many wildlife incidents, so the authorities sectioned it off as a wildlife refuge."

Tony hums again, dipping the spoon in the soup and trying to steady his shaking hand. Unfortunately, it's vibrating so badly the soup splashes back into the bowl, and Tony soon gives up, lifting the bowl to his lips and drinking.

God, it's so good.

He takes two long gulps and stops to breathe, his stomach uneasy even after so little. "Slow," Bucky orders, retrieving another can of soup from within the bag and settling himself back beside Tony, preparing to warm his own. "Your stomach's been empty for a while."

Tony nods, taking a steadying breath, but he can't help it. "My compliments…to the chef."

"I'll be sure to tell Campbell for you."

Tony smirks, taking another sip, slower this time. At that moment, twigs snap in his periphery, and his head whips toward the sound with dizzying speed. He catches himself with a hand on the ground, almost dropping the bowl.

"It's just them," Bucky assures him.

Sure enough, five silhouettes trek through the trees and emerge into the clearing, carrying gear. "He lives!" Thor yells, raising a triumphant fist. "How fares thee, young one?"

Tony quirks an eyebrow at his vocabulary, but shrugs. "Better. I've got food, which is nice."

"So you'll eat Bucky's soup, but not mine?" Natasha ask good-naturedly, sending a smirk Bucky's way.

Bucky snorts. "Guess you're not as popular with the opposite sex as you thought, Nat. How's it feel to be knocked down a peg?"

"Why don't I let you know?" She says, squeezing his shoulder affectionately in passing, then crouching beside Tony. "You look better. There's more color in your cheeks."

Tony pauses. "Thanks?"

"It was a compliment," she confirms, smirking. "You looked like a corpse when we brought you here."

Tony flinches. "Oh."

"Stop scaring him," Steve chides, setting his load down. "I'm glad you seem more alert, Tony."

"Me too," Tony replies, sipping more of the soup. It's tomato. He likes tomato. "Sorry for the trouble."

"No trouble," Clint assures, and for the first time, Tony sees clearly the extent of the damage to his face. There's a bandage on his cheek, and another on his forehead, deep bruising marring a considerable portion of the left side. Clint catches his looking and smiles ruefully, saying, "A beefy guy decided I looked like a punching bag. I'm fine."

Tony still feels bad. He…really didn't want any of them to get hurt saving them. He wasn't worth that.

"The police are rounding up everyone at the crime scene," Steve says hesitantly, as though he's uncomfortable broaching the subject. "There were a lot of them there. It was quite the setup."

Tony shifts, uncomfortable. "It usually is."

"Usually?" Bruce asks, glasses askew as always, eyes concerned. Having dropped the heavy bag, he plops beside Tony. "This has happened before?"

Tony takes another drink of soup to buy him a second to word his response, not looking at them. "Um…yes. I'm kind of a high-profile hostage…if you haven't noticed." He gives them a wry grin, taking a shaky breath. He sets the bowl down before he can drop it. "Do they know…I was there?"

"They're pretty sure," Steve says, not looking totally satisfied with his words, but continuing on despite it. "They're looking for you, so we had to get out of there quick. Figured you'd want to say hi to your rescuers."

Tony smirks, pleased to find his headache receding, and that his breathing is easier. He does want to see them, but he's most grateful for them giving him some time to collect himself before facing Howard and Obadiah. He doesn't know if he'd be able to face them in his current condition. "Of course. My favorites fugitives…and heroes to boot."

He takes another sip of his soup. "How'd you find me? They were professionals. I know they covered their tracks."

"We tracked the phone we gave you," Bruce said just as Natasha threw the device in question into his lap, narrowly missing his soup. "Good thing you had it with you; we were having a really hard time tracking the car they took you in."

"Oh, right," Tony said, reminded of how he got into the predicament. He turned to Clint. "This is all your fault. Blame falls entirely to you."

Tony's tone was flat, bordering on teasing, but Clint looked surprised, nonetheless. "Um…did I sleep-kidnap you, or something?"

"No, you suggested I take a taxi, and…the next thing I knew, I was just another damsel in distress waiting for my knights in shining armor." Tony glanced at Natasha. "Knight and…knightess."

Clint, in the meantime, has taken the accusation in stride, snorting. "Well, were you going to walk back to your mansion? Or take a private helicopter, maybe?"

"Hm, that would have been nice," Tony remarks, sipping again. He's getting to the bottom of the bowl, and as much as he wants to ask for more, his stomach is rebelling at just the small amount of nutrition. "Um. Well, I guess I should get it over with. Thank you for…you know."

He waves a shaking hand, trying to appear nonchalant. He doesn't like thanking people. Well, no, that isn't true. It's more he doesn't like people doing things for him that require thanks. It makes him feel incapable, which is something he doesn't need on top of all the other shit.

"Of course. We're even." Steve says, smiling despite Tony's apprehension.

Tony blinks. Well…he hadn't considered that. He'd saved them twice, hadn't he?

"…yeah," he concedes, happy that he isn't in debt. "Even."

"So…I have to ask," Clint says hesitantly, and that's all it takes for Tony to tense up again. "We were following the story in the news, hoping for clues of some kind…why didn't your dad pay the ransom?"

Tony stills, wishing he had more soup to buy himself a second to think up an answer, but the bowl is hopelessly empty. He breathes deeply, steadying himself. "It's kind of…a policy?" He shrugs, looking Clint in the eye. "An SI one. Don't negotiate with terrorists…or kidnappers. That's what the lawyers suggested when I was a kid, when it happened the first time." He shrugs, looking down. "That wasn't exactly enough of a deterrent, I guess."

There's silence for a moment, and Tony is beyond uncomfortable, and tired. "It's not like…like nobody even paid the ransom, you know? My mom and my aunt usually put something together. But my dad and uncle thought it was better to listen to the lawyers' advice. Now that my mom's…gone…and my aunt is usually out of the country now…well, they usually listen to whoever will save them the most money."

Tony's taking a calculated risk admitting this fact. It's neglect, there's no question about it, but Tony has racked his brain for all the Avengers cases (and he's researched them all) and they never did anything about neglect cases, only physical, sexual, or really horrible emotional abuse. Neglect was harder to prove.

Perhaps, by admitting to the neglect, it will ward off any suspicions they may have about the rest. Because they're not stupid. They must have suspicions.

He looks up, shrugging again, giving them a cocky grin patented to dispel any and all sympathy. "It's the price I pay for being a rich kid. Other kids like me go through the same stuff. Hell, it's practically a right of passage in the one percenter world."

They look, for the most part, distinctly unimpressed, but they leave the subject alone for now. Good. He doesn't know how much more bullshitting he can handle.

"So, when…should I head back?" He asks carefully, schooling his features to hide the twist of his gut at the prospect.

Steve shrugs, looking around. "When you're strong enough. We figured we could drop you at a police station, or at home, wherever you needed. I don't really want you going until at least tomorrow, though; you're still really pale."

"I bet," Tony admits, feeling the fatigue. Days of starvation, dehydration, sensory deprivation, and several other unpleasant -ations have left him practically useless. "I'm actually going to…take a nap, if that's okay."

"You don't have to ask to take a nap, Tony," Bruce assures, smiling.

"Yep. Rest easy, little guy. We'll be up for a while, so you're safe." Clint reassures him as he situates himself under the bag's flap once more, and while the name earns Clint a middle finger, Tony won't admit to anyone but himself how much he needed to hear those words.

Settling down deep in the sleeping bag, curling up, he drifts off to the sound of quiet conversation and stifled laughter, sleeping in the bag he used to sleep in when he and his mother went camping. He feels strangely close to her, and it's the safest he's felt in a while.

Feeling secure, he lets himself drift.

…

Natasha watches Tony fall asleep, pensive.

Steve has shared his worries about Tony's home life with them all, and she's not sure she's comfortable letting the boy go back. She knows she probably won't say anything—it will happen whether she's comfortable with it or not. But it gets her thinking about what goes on behind closed doors in the Stark Mansion.

Her opinion of him has changed considerably since meeting him for the first time, around a year ago. Up to that point, he was a passing face in the news that she paid no mind to, other than the subconscious pangs of envy that crept in without her permission. He was portrayed as having the whole word in the palm of his small hand.

Now, it seemed more like he had the world on his shoulders.

It was a picture painted by small, intimate details—nothing nearly enough to craft an accurate depiction, but enough to get her started. When they first encountered them, it was a rough meeting—he'd pushed all her buttons, every one of them, without an ounce of remorse. However, despite the snarky comments and the sarcasm dripping from his words, he kept giving, and blowing it off. He'd saved Bucky's life, enduring the criticism and ridicule they'd automatically tossed at him. They hadn't asked for food. They hadn't asked for things to sleep on, or a first aid kit to take with them. They hadn't asked to take sleeping bags, or extra food, or clothes. And yet a thirteen-year-old, who claimed to love nothing other than himself, had given it without a second thought.

Beyond that, he risked his own safety, and according to Steve the safety of someone very close to him, to save Steve, and to get them safely together. No matter how much of a genius, there was always a chance Tony would be identified as the one who'd broken into the database, either through the programming, the tracking…there were a number of clues that could have led back to him, and he risked it.

And finally, when they'd given him the phone—a tiny token of their gratitude that they all agreed could never come close to repaying what he'd done for them, saving two of them from certain death and imprisonment—he'd had the audacity to say that they needn't have paid him back. And she knew when people lied. For his kindness, his own risks, and his own money and belongings and time, he expected nothing.

She's done her research on types of people, and she is a very good profiler, and an even better judge of character. The people with the most often want to take more—they are egotistical and selfish, and want to see an infinite pile of belongings and wealth expand. She had always assumed that Tony Stark was undeniably one of those elites.

Now, she has to drastically reassess.

She's going to be helping Steve with this project of his, because she has a growing feeling that Tony Stark is more like them than anyone ever thought possible…in more ways than one.

A/N: Yeah, so…this is INCREDIBLY short. And I get that. So…very sorry. But I really wanted to just…I don't know, let you know that I'm trying. I've kind of lost motivation for this story, but I'm hoping it will pick back up the farther along I get in my other in-progress works! One of them is coming to an end and one of them is getting super intense, so I'm really focused on those.

Also, I try to me a lot more intentional about the detail and plot in this one, just because it's such an intricate story, so it's a lot more intense to write. And…life. Yeah. I'm just making excuses, but, ya know. I hope you understand :)

I can't remember if I ever replied to the reviews, but I appreciate them all so much; let me know if I didn't and I will, because I want to thank each of you individually! Special thanks to: PhoenixNinja101, Luckias, Castar, The Violent Kurumi, Kuroshiroryuu, Ichigo1217, Beakers47, JadeSlytherin394, PoisonIvy533, . 15, Cynthia of the Wallflowers, Christine-Danielle, FandomFreals, TC Howl, Jua, ShadowedRose17, alice 0, Electric Raven, WhatHappenedtotheWifi (same bro), SavannahWeaver0, user101, spideyboixoxoxo, TwilightGlow3, and sloth-life! And thanks so much for everyone following and favoriting!

Jua: poor Tony indeed. Thanks for the review! I hope to!

Electric Raven: hey, you popped over from Back in Black! thanks so much! Hahahaha I'm so glad you like it! I know the bonding is so sweet and it's s fun to write. Thanks for such an amazing compliment! Not gonna spoil anything...but hold on to that ;)

sloth-life: Thanks so much! Hope you liked this chapter!

I fervently hope that the next chapter (which I've started!) Will be up sooner rather than later. Regardless, I hope you'll stick around and be patient :) thanks so much for your support, and I hope you enjoyed!