One month had passed since the party. Sasha was back at work full time after proving herself on a number of internal cases, now heading up a case with a court date set for just three weeks time.

Tony was living back at his own place with the couple spending occasional evenings in the week together, as well as weekends when they had the chance.

At first, it felt strange for Sasha to come home to an empty, quiet apartment, however it made her begin to feel more normal, slowly falling back into the routine of how her life was before that day on Brooklyn Bridge.

Tony was busy with work a lot more after moving back to the Stark Tower, feeling comfortable leaving Sasha alone after she'd been working properly for a while. He was in Europe with a handful of the team and had been for the past week. Sasha had questioned the sudden increase in work, but Tony had told her not to worry, though that was near enough impossible.

It was a Wednesday evening when Sasha got a knock at her door. She had just made it home from the gym and was about to start cooking dinner when she was interrupted, turning down the music coming from the TV before unlocking the door.

"Sean, hey."

Her neighbour was stood in the doorway with a shy smile on his face, a redness in his cheeks and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Sasha noticed his hair had been trimmed, his curls far shorter than she remembered them being and a healed scar just above his temple.

"Sorry to bother you, I was cooking dinner and realised I didn't have any oil. You wouldn't happen to be able to spare any, would you? You'd be doing me a huge favour."

"Of course, come in."

Sasha stepped aside and let Sean into her apartment, closing the door behind him. She headed over to the kitchen while Sean wandered around the open plan living and dining space, peering at every photograph and piece of art on the wall.

He eventually joined Sasha in the kitchen, his hands still in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, humming along quietly to the jazz music mellowing in the background.

Sasha was bent down with her head in a cupboard next to the oven when she called out to Sean.

"How much do you need? You can take whatever's left if that's easier, I have another bottle. Is there anything else you need?"

"Nothing else," Sean said, clearing his throat while Sasha dug through the cupboard to reach a half-empty bottle of oil, "Just that hard drive Tony Stark left here."

Sasha froze, crouched down on the ground with one hand on the corner of the kitchen cabinet and the other on the edge of the countertop, her heart still and her mouth suddenly dry.

She heard the clicking of a gun, swallowing once as she attempted to decide what the right thing to do was, though her hands became weak and she found no strength to pull herself to her feet, her mind unable to think clearly and her eyes seeing but not registering the world in front of her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sasha was pulled to her feet abruptly with one hand pinned behind her back, twisted at an agonising angle with the barrel of a black handgun pressing against the side of her head, forcing her to wince at the pressure.

"I know it's here," Sean whispered into her ear, the warmth of his breath and harshness of his hand wrapped around her wrist made her stomach turn, "Tell me where it is and this will all be so much easier."

"I don't know," Sasha gasped, breathing heavily as he forced her arm further, her back arching in retaliation as she attempted to struggle but was ultimately held in place by his strength and her own fear, "He doesn't tell me anything, I don't know, I swear."

There wasn't even a shred of Sasha that would've been tempted to give up Tony's hard drive, however even if there was, it would've been impossible to do so. Sasha didn't have a clue what hard drive Sean was referring to, Tony left his junk all over her place constantly, but she never paid any attention to what any of it was.

His clothes were in laundry baskets and hung up in wardrobes, shoes by the front door and small tool boxes in spare bedrooms, watches in leather cases and more gadgets than Sasha cared to know about. She'd find parts of robots in the drawers of her dressing room and screwdrivers amongst her cutlery, but never once did she recall Tony showing or mentioned a hard drive.

"Alright," Sean said, kicking Sasha in the backs of her knees and making her fall to the ground with a sharp cry, "I guess we're doing this the hard way."

***

It was Thursday evening when Tony began to feel like something was wrong. He hadn't heard from Sasha in over twenty four hours and although he knew how busy she was with work, it wasn't in her nature to not call him at least once a day.

Without so much as a response to his last text message, Tony began to panic. The team were stationed in Oslo on that particular day, having a whole host of important meetings with governments from across the world that didn't particularly interest him, but did interest the greater good.

He'd been away from home for just a week and had hated every single second of it. Tony knew Sasha could cope on her own, but the truth was, he wasn't sure if he could cope without her. Even so much as having someone to hold in the dead of night or to straighten his tie for him, he needed her, always.

Tony couldn't wait to get back to New York and see Sasha again, never feeling quite like himself when they were apart. She was his driving force, Steve had been right, but it was ultimately a fear and pain that drove him to work hard enough to return home to her, knowing he'd never be the same if he lost Sasha.

Peter was just about to close his eyes and drift off to sleep when his phone buzzed on his bedside table. With a groan and his eyes still closed, he grabbed it and slid his thumb across the screen, holding it to his ear while pushing the covers from his body and sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Hello?"

"Kid, it's me."

"Mr Stark!" Peter's eyes flashed open and the sleep suddenly drained from his body, "What's up?"

"Have you heard from Sasha? She hasn't called or text in like a day and I'm getting kind of worried. Reckon you could swing by and make sure she's all good?"

"I haven't heard from her either but y-yeah, sure thing. I'll head over there now, call you back in like a half hour."

"Appreciate that, kid. Talk soon."

The line went dead before Peter could brush away the thanks. He sighed and tapped twice on the face of a watch Tony had given to him, his suit assembling around him as he pushed open his bedroom window, hovering on the ledge before jumping into the black.

It didn't take him too long to reach Sasha's apartment building, calling her twice on the way over there yet receiving no answer. Peter retracted his suit and headed inside, nodding once to a doorman before taking the elevator up to Sasha's floor with an access code Tony had sent over text.

Guilt still kept Peter up at night when he thought about what had happened to Sasha, constantly replaying the situation in his mind and wondering how things might've ended differently if he'd just reacted sooner.

Sasha had tried her very best to talk Peter out of his guilt, never once blaming him for what had happened. The pair were still incredibly close and often spent time together without Tony, Sasha still being keen to teach Peter how to cook for himself. She felt a maternal instinct over the boy, something she knew Tony shared, too. Sasha enjoyed watching Tony and Peter together in his workshop or talking about something she didn't understand. She saw a different side to Tony when they were together, a caring, paternal side that only made her love him even more.

Peter paused when he made his way down the hallway towards Sasha's apartment. The front door was open the tiniest amount, making Peter's senses heighten and his heart begin to beat faster. He knocked three times, waiting for a response, though was met with an eerie silence.

Drawing in a deep breath, Peter steadied himself before walking into the apartment, though had soon wished he was still tucked up in bed when he saw the state of his friend's home.

The coffee table was overturned and chairs were on their side, the television had been smashed and contents of cabinets and drawers were scattered across the floor. Doors were opened and glasses broken, books strewn across the room and as Peter ventured further into the apartment, clothes and shoes had been emptied from wardrobes onto the floor.

Sasha's home had been turned upside down, wrecked from the inside out with not a single thing looking like it was in it's right place. He stepped over a torn pillow and picked up a photo frame that was face down on the dressing table, turning it over and feeling sick to his stomach when he saw smashed glass had torn apart a photograph of himself, Tony and Sasha together at the party a few weeks ago.

"Sasha?" Peter wearily called out, not expecting an answer but hoping to get one.

His bottom lip was quivering as he walked back through the apartment, careful to not stand on anything as he wound up beside the floor to ceiling windows in the living space, staring at the carnage surrounding him.

There was no blood on the ground which was the only thing providing any hope, though Peter couldn't help but assume the worst. He felt paralysed as he looked at Sasha's belongings broken and abused, tossed around like garbage without a second thought.

Peter was riddled with anger and fury, unable to comprehend who would do such a thing, and why, though fear for Sasha's safety had started to pull a steady stream of tears from his pale eyes as he reached for his phone.

He didn't want to be the one to break the bad news to Tony, not for a second time. He already had a lifetime of guilt on his shoulders and wasn't sure if he could bare delivering more darkness to the man he owed everything to, not when the clouds had only just started to clear from the last time.

Peter's hand was shaking as he held the phone by his ear, the line ringing for what felt like eternity before Tony finally picked up.

"Tony Stark."

"Mr Stark? It's Peter."

Tony's face immediately dropped when he heard the unstable voice on the other end of the line, a muffled choke of a sob and shaky breathing, knowing then that he wasn't going to get the news he wanted.

"Tell me she's alright, kid."

Tony rose to his feet at the bar, the rest of the team pausing their conversations to stare at him while his eyes widened in horror, jaw clenched and feet planted firmly on the ground.

"Her house has been ransacked, Mr Stark. They've been though everything, all of it. Sasha's gone, she's not here."

Nauseating fear was an understatement as Tony listened to Peter's words. He began to feel dizzy, his stomach rising and falling as he reached out and steadied himself on the arm of a chair, his breathing growing hasty and rapid,  his mind clouding and heart beating out of time.

His hand dropped the phone onto the ground, the call ending and leaving Peter in a stunned silence halfway across the world.

"Tony, what is it?" Steve jumped to his friend's side, helping him stay on his feet as he struggled to breathe.

Tony took a moment to collect his thoughts and regulate his breathing, gripping onto Steve's arms with white knuckles while his eyes stayed fixed on the floor in front of him, water glazing over them that he briskly blinked back.

"Fire up the Quinjet," Tony said, nodding once before turning on his heels towards the door, "We're going back to New York. Now."