It was boring, slow in the secluded location. Nothing to pass the time, only silence. He wasn't even allowed a radio anymore, they didn't bother giving him books. He used to enjoy the silence. He could sit for hours in his penthouse, hours, and just work, interfacing with seven different things and not feel the strain. But he couldn't do that anymore. The locks on his brain, if he tried to remove them, he would die. Instantly. They were clamped in, and he couldn't take chances with his life, not when the consequences would hardly be to his liking.

Ghost had come by, once, and offered to kill him. Out of mercy. Carol had been bringing him pictures of Clint and Bobbi's kids. He was missing things, he was offered a mercy death. It was all he could do not to accept the offer.

Tony Stark rarely gave up, but he was on the edge of things. Teetering over the edge. But information, even fragments, was enough to get him going. Enough to motivate him to look further.

He had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work. He'd been here for years. He needed out.