By the time the hospital released him, Tony was old news. He'd let his beard grow out while he was recovering, and after the initial itchiness, he'd grown used to the way he looked in the mirror. No more touching up the gray. No more Tom Ford suits. No more lifts in his shoes. No more sunglasses indoors. Tony Stark had been a publicity creation, the face of Stark Industries, the bad boy, the drunkard who somehow by accident managed to turn his father's company into a global conglomerate and just stumbled over innovation. Yeah, sure, he drank too much and he enjoyed sex with willing partners, and he stupidly trusted the wrong people.
But he'd never screwed up his actual job. He liked to work. He never felt more alive than when he was creating something entirely new. Now he was just a guy, walking away from the ambulance that dropped him off in the first nearly empty street they passed. Even in Manhattan the streets were quiet at daybreak.
He walked until he reached a subway stop, and then descended into the depths. No one looked twice at him. He was just another guy in off-duty hospital scrubs. He hadn't been on the subway in years, and even then it was a prank, to see people's reactions when they recognized him. He held onto a pole and swayed to the rhythm of the train. It was dirty and smelly, and none of the people around him had ever owned a Fortune 500 business.
None of them knew what was coming. They were his people, the real people, the ones Rogers had treated as unfortunate collateral damage. Rogers had scolded Tony for being upset by Coulson's death. 'Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?' But soldiers at least know going in that they're risking their lives. Barnes was a soldier, and Rogers sure as shit valued his life above all others.
These people... Tony can't help them. He can't. He has to remember that, he's just a guy. No one wants his help. He just has to find himself a job and get on with his own life.
Tony had never looked for a job. He had no idea where to start. Hell, he didn't even remember his social security number, not that he could look for work under his own identity. Possibly he should have put more thought into the ME aspect of Protocol Pass the Torch, set up a new identity, hide cash caches around the world.
He eventually found a quiet alcove in Central Park with a good view of Belvedere Castle. The castle made him think of royalty. Why not call King T'Challa? His country was highly technological, and still isolated from the world. Tony could work there in secret, and T'Challa might actually listen when Tony warned him about the threat to the Earth. Yeah, with King Kittycat's resources, Tony might actually be able to do some good, anonymously, of course.
He woke up his phone. "Fry, baby, can you connect me with King T'Challa in Wakanda?" Tony found a smooth rock to sit on. There were dragonflies skipping the surface of the Turtle Pond. Slanting sunlight brought out their colors, red and brownish gold, like streamlined miniature Iron Men. Tony was prepared to wait, or to be passed on to one of the people who screened T'Challa's calls to avoid wasting his time, but there was a click almost immediately, and T'Challa's face appeared on the screen.
"Stark. There have been rumors about your demise. I am pleased to find them without foundation."
Tony gave T'Challa a smile. "Slightly exaggerated, your Majesty, but I couldn't call them unfounded. As far as the world knows, I'm dead, and I need to stay dead."
"So. I take it this is not a social call?"
"Not so much, no. I know Wakanda's been isolated from the world, but you're still part of it. There's a danger coming for the entire Earth. I saw it, T'Challa. You need to prepare for it. And... I could help. I just need a place to work in secret, and tools. I know no one trusts me since Ultron, so you can place any restrictions you see fit, claim anything I come up with, I don't care."
T'Challa looked pained. "You request sanctuary?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."
T'Challa sighed. "I regret being unable to grant your request, Stark."
"You don't believe me, either." Tony had hoped T'Challa would be more open-minded. He hadn't been directly exposed to playboy asshole Tony, after all.
"In point of fact, I do believe you. It makes sense. We in Wakanda do follow the news, and the invasion of New York City only makes sense in context as a test; an expendable force sent to gather information on Earth's defenses."
"Then... why? Like I said, I wouldn't cause trouble. I'm used to living in my lab, anyway. You'd hardly know I was there."
"Our guest facilities are already in use. Barnes had requested he be returned to cold sleep until a method of removing his programming could be devised. Rogers..." T'Challa sighed.
Tony blinked. "Oh. That... explains why no one's seen Rogers."
T'Challa nodded. "I made a hasty misjudgment, blaming Barnes for my father's death. And then in remorse, I compounded my error by offering Barnes sanctuary, discounting the rights of other victims to seek an accounting. Rogers assumed he was included. He also assumed I would not mind him 'borrowing' a vehicle to break the rest of his people from unlawful incarceration."
"Yeah. Rogers assumes things." Tony swallowed hard. Should he tell T'Challa what really went down in Siberia? "They were on the Raft. I was going to get them out... legally. But I didn't have time."
"There was too much haste, on all our parts," T'Challa said. "But what is done, is done. I cannot now send them away from Wakanda."
"Gave your royal word, right?"
"Not precisely. I had only promised Barnes sanctuary. But... it is a complex situation. If I release them, and they cause further harm, it will be on my head. It is bad enough that I have violated the Accords my father believed in, without endangering more people."
"Right." Tony took a deep breath. "I don't know what Rogers told you about what went down in Siberia."
"He said that you had attacked Barnes, and they had been forced to defend themselves. And that you were... sulking... because you had lost."
"Sulking." Tony laughed. "Wow. I guess... I guess he didn't expect me to make it out of there to give my side of the story. T'Challa, I'm just out of the hospital, and lucky at that. Whatever you do, don't turn your back on them. Or threaten Barnes. Or Maximoff. They're pure snowflakes in Rogers' eyes, and he'll protect them at all costs, no matter what they've done. Barnes didn't kill your father, but he did kill my parents. Rogers knew for years and kept it from me. He also knew Wanda Maximoff was Hydra and forced her acceptance into the Avengers over objections, and without so much as a psychological evaluation. I don't know whose side she's on now, except her own. Be careful."
"I will take your words under advisement." T'Challa didn't seem surprised. He'd probably begun to see the ugly side of the Avengers now that he was in the position Tony had held. Providing for them without asking for repayment only fed their feelings of entitlement and resentment. "While I cannot offer you sanctuary, I would offer assistance, if I could. Is there anything else I could do?"
"Um, yeah... I'm embarrassed for cash at the moment. If I could hit you up for a loan, I'd appreciate it. No idea when I could pay it back, or even if." Tony felt horrible. He'd never had to beg for money in his life, and it was worse thinking he might not be able to repay it.
"That is easily done, and you need not worry about repayment. Your words of warning may save the lives of my people. I value them above all else."
They didn't say much after that, just made arrangements for one of the Wakandan attachés at the U.N. to bring their embassy's petty cash to Tony. T'Challa assured Tony that all the attachés were Dora Milaje, and quite capable of making sure they were not followed. It should be enough to get Tony out of the city and support him for a few weeks, while he investigated other possibilities.
One of the first things Tony did with the money was buy a postcard and a stamp. He resisted the bunch of Iron Man images, and selected a generic skyline. He scribbled on it, "Just a line to let you know I was in town. Sorry I don't have time to visit you and your lovely aunt. Gotta run, my taxi's waiting' he signed it 'T' , wrote Peter Parker's address on the card and dropped it in the nearest mailbox.
The next thing he did was buy a chili cheese hot dog and a black Nirvana t-shirt from a street vendor. The X-ed out eyes on the smiley face suited his mood.
The hot dog was delicious.