He should- He should probably call someone. Someone important. Government affiliated. He didn't think there was any sort of private sector for this sort of thing. Blinking down at the gaping wound that had made hamburger meat of his stomach and ensuing entrails, he thinks maybe there's a basis for it. He should have brought the suit. What was he thinking? He probably wasn't. He couldn't really remember the last time he had a full night's sleep, or what amounted to it these days. There had probably been lethal amounts of caffeine involved, possibly some alcohol. It was all a little fuzzy to be honest. Why had he decided to do this? He didn't take long walks. Not through New York. Not at night. This was definitely a Cap learned behaviour. Emulating his childhood hero. Pathetic.

That's probably why he didn't bother with the suit. It's probably why he got in between some asshole pimp, whaling on a hooker wearing nothing but a cotton tee and some sweats. Had he even brought shoes? He blinks down at his toes and no. No he had not. He couldn't really feel them either. Probably shock. People went into shock during these sorts of things right? And hadn't he meant to call someone?

He pats at his body gingerly, but his outfit didn't really come equipped with a lot of pockets. He'd definitely had a phone though. He'd been- doing something… internet. Social media maybe. Than he'd spotted the asshole, step in to fight, block, punch, kick, block, knife, pain, punch, kick, gunshot. So the phone was, he turned his head painfully left and there it was, several thousand dollars worth of Starktech lying amidst the trash of a New York alley. He thinks maybe that's a little symbolic. He has to crawl a little ways to grab hold of it, and maybe shock isn't so bad because that didn't hurt half as bad as it probably should have.

The screen is cracked, stupid fucking asshole, but it turns on, it beeps when he pushes the buttons and it's ringing when he brings it to his ear.

"Tony?" That's probably not who he was supposed to call.

"Hey Cap, how's it going?" A small silence.

"Tony, it's 4 in the morning."

"Is it? Listen, what are you doing, are you busy?" He runs a hand through his hair and, why is it wet? What- oh, right, blood.

"Tony it's 4 in the morning." Hadn't he just said that? He had. He's sure of it. "I was asleep. What are you doing?"

Lying in a pool of my own blood next to a dumpster, a fucking dumpster Steve. God it stinks.

"I went for a walk."

"Right. Are you- did you need something?"

An ambulance, a blood transfusion, a blanket would be nice, why did people ever come outside? It's fucking freezing.

"We're out of orange juice." a small silence, maybe he went back to sleep?, before-

"Orange juice." Right, Steve's too polite to fall asleep, even at 4 in the morning. He thinks that maybe if he wasn't dying right now he'd tease him for it. For sitting through nonsense conversation in the middle of the night when any other person would have rolled over and ignored the call. He's too grateful for that right now. Later.

"Yeah, Barton keeps drinking it all. Damn birdman. Isn't he 'spose to live off worms and nuts and shit? You should have a talk with him Steve, nice teammates share the orange juice. Am I right?"

"Tony, when was the last time you slept?" There it is. Disappointment. Resignation. But maybe worry too, Steve's always worrying.

"I'm right. You can admit it Cap, I won't tell." Pain is starting to pulse out from his stomach, just small little waves that make his teeth grind together. He forces a breath out through his nose.

"Tony? You alright?" That's definitely worry, it make his heart clench to hear it, directed at him, like Steve really cares.

"Sure, course, why wouldn't I be? Just…" He shifts a little and the pain gives a nasty spike. "Feelin' the burn, or… whatever people do. When they walk."

"Right. You think maybe you 'oughta come home now Tony?" And God, yes please he wants to go home. So bad, and shit, now he's fucking crying, like some wet eared newbie, like this is the first time he's been dying.

"Hey Steve? We're friends right?"

"What?" Crap. Maybe not.

"Friends. Like if I had a bucket list and it said 'be friends with Captain America' I could probably cross that off right?" God it's so cold. Was this what it was like, being frozen in the Atlantic? Minus the water and plane. And slim chance of survival. And oh, Steve's talking.

"-course we're friends, why wouldn't we be?" He stifles back a sob and tries to curl into a ball, but the pain is awful, just fucking awful, and things are finally starting to slip sideways so he's not one hundred percent sure where is body is.

"Didn't really get a gr'ate start, n' I know 'm not… likeable 'r, eezy." He giggles a little, because he is easy, ask anyone, "... bat yer' eyess 'n 'l jump 'n bed." He wished he was in bed right now. "Gaw, 'm awful."

"Tony?" And that's disappointment cranked to eleven. "Tony, are you drinking?" Ah, that explains it.

"I wish." He's suddenly very thirsty. Which is a little weird since his mouth is full of pain-drool. He tries swallowing it down, but that just-just."Yer'-you're...gonna…get...the...or'nge… ora'nge… joo'ss. Righ' Steve? Stevie?" There's a sudden harsh intake of breath, which he's honestly a little jealous of because, he can't remember when, but breathing has gotten a whole lot harder.

"Damn it Tony, you were doing so good." Anger. Wha-? "You said you were gonna try harder. Damn it." He could hear grumbling, and what sounded like door and-

"Steve?" This always happened, Steve got angry, and Tony got upset. His vision was swimming and he couldn't see his toes anymore.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you." Steve was gonna come get him. Steve was gonna take him home, he was gonna- he was gonna find his body in a dirty alley, he was gonna see the- the blood and- and. Shit. What had he done? Steve couldn't find him. God, he was already gonna feel so guilty. Fuck. He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have… Steve was gonna blame himself, and this- this was all Tony's fault. Shit. It was always his fucking fault. "Tony?"

"'M s'rry. So s'rry. Sh't, Steve. Steve…" He shouldn't have called, he should have...should've told him- should've… no, it was better he didn't, better Steve didn't know, that nobody… "S'rry." The phone slipped from his fingers.

"Tony?... Tony?...Tony!"

Steve answered the phone on instinct, barely glancing at the screen before bringing it to his ear.

"Hello?" He could hear cars on the other side of the line, and someone's short, shallow breaths. He took a longer look at the screen, only mildly surprised to see Tony's name. Out of anyone the genius had the greatest propensity for being awake at odd hours, though Jarvis usually kept him from bothering anyone else if he could. "Tony?"

"Hey Cap, how's it going?" Steve blinked at his alarm clock, his body already fighting away the sense of sleep.

"Tony, it's 4 in the morning."Steve wasn't sure how anyone could be unaware of that, but sometimes Tony needed the reminder. Sure enough-

"Is it?" Steve rubbed at his eyes, feeling a sort of fond exasperation bubbling in his chest. "Listen, are you busy?" The fondness swells, but so does the exasperation and Steve bites back a sigh.

"Tony it's 4 in the morning." Tony makes a small noise, which means he's probably been awake long enough that his thoughts have devolved into three syllables. "I was asleep. What are you doing?" He tries not to sound patronizing, he knows how it gets Tony's dander up.

"I went for a walk." Tony's voice is suddenly rough, his breath coming a little sharper, Steve can feel his concern rising.

"Right. Are you-" He stops himself, because he knows how Tony hates people acting like he's weak. "Did you need something?" That should be safe Steve has gotten away with that one before. There's a small silence.

"We're out of orange juice."

Steve blinks at his alarm clock for a moment. It's not the weirdest topic Tony has ever brought up, but it still knocks him off kilter for a moment.

"Orange juice." It doesn't manage to sound like a question.

"Yeah, Barton keeps drinking it all." He sounds so relieved it makes Steve's chest ache and his confusion mount. "Damn birdman. Isn't he 'spose to eat worms and nuts and shit?" Steve feels a small twinge of anger for Clint, but it doesn't last long against the other feelings swarming his chest. "You should have a talk with him Steve, nice teammates share the orange juice. Am I right?" There was a manic edge to his voice that Steve recognized from other late nights and he sighed, taking a moment to temper his voice into something more stern and feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion that had nothing to do with sleep.

"Tony, when was the last time you slept?" Steve brushes a hand through his hair. His clock is flashing next to his bed like a warning.

"I'm right." His voice seems suddenly small and wobbly. "You can admit it Cap, I won't tell." His voice hitches, and Steve listens as he draws in a long hollow breath.

"Tony? You alright?" He can't help the question this time, his heart is throbbing with worry.

"Sure. Course, why wouldn't I be? Just-" His voice is still unnaturally small and scratchy, and the silence that follows seems abnormally long. "Feelin' the burn… or whatever people do. When they walk."

"Right. You think you maybe you 'oughta come home now, Tony?" It's his turn to talk softly, his chest is aching almost as much as it did in his pre-serum days and he probably couldn't talk any louder if he wanted too. Tony's breath shudders through the phone and Steve's fingers tighten involuntarily, his phone creaking in protest. There's another worrying silence and Steve is just about to break it when-

"Hey Steve? We're friends right?" The sudden question almost makes him choke on his tongue.

"What?" All his quiet is gone, chased away by his shock.

"Friends." It's meant to be blaise, but Steve can hear the uncertainty. "Like if I had a bucket list and it said 'be friends with Captain America', I could probably cross that off right?" Steve's heart plummeted while his guilt soared.

"We're friends Tony, of course we're friends. Why wouldn't we be?"

"Didn't really get a gr'ate start, n' I know 'm not… likeable 'r, eezy." Now his heart is sinking for a different reason, anger's set his throat burning. He should have expected this. Steve had heard all about Tony's alcohol problems but it had seemed that having the team had helped him to overcome some of it. Tony had told him he was cutting back. Bucky had always said Steve thought too high of people. Tony giggles, high and breathless. "... bat yer' eyess 'n 'l jump 'n , 'm awful." Steve forces himself past that. He'll come back to it later. Much later.

"Tony?" He doesn't bother to keep the sadness out of his voice. "Tony, are you drinking?" He doesn't quite hear Tony's response. Just a heavy gulp and then he's changing the subject, sounding desperate and distracted.

"Yer'-you're...gonna…get...the...or'nge… ora'nge… joo'ss. Righ' Steve? Stevie?" The nickname makes Steve's gut clench painfully tight and he draws in a rough breath, his hands suddenly shaking.

"Damn it Tony, you were doing so good." His voice is shaking almost as much as his hands and he draws on his anger to force it steady. "You said you were gonna try harder. Damn it." Clutching his phone to hard to his ear he climbs from the bed, slipping on his emergency shoes and pulling a light jacket from the closet, slamming the door behind him.

"Steve?" He yanks his arms into the sleeves, to angry to acknowledge Tony's voice in his ear.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you." Tony's breathing is suddenly wet and loud. "Tony?"

"'M s'rry. So s'rry. Sh't, Steve. Steve…" Steve tries to break through the sudden litany of apologies, but it seems Tony can know longer hear him and fear makes his body goes cold. "S'rry" There's a sudden clatter and Steve is practically screaming, praying for a response.

"Tony!" Nothing. "Jarvis!"

"I have sent the you the fastest route Captain."

"Hang on Tony, I'm coming." There's nothing on the other side but the rumble of cars.

Steve ran. Barely taking the time to shove a comm unit in his unoccupied ear, and with his jacket hanging off one arm he sprinted through the tower. He ignored the elevators, slipping down the stairs faster than his feet could move. Jarvis made sure all the doors were open. He ran full tilt into the garage, jumping into the first car he bumped into, the phone still pressed to his ear achingly silent. The car purred to life, despite his lack of key, Steve sent a silent prayer of thanks to the AI, and floored the gas.

"Lead me Jarvis." The sound of the butler's voice filtering through the comms was like a life preserver to the sea of fear his body was drowning in.

Steve drove on auto pilot, cutting in front of cars and blazing through red lights. He's dropped the phone into a cup holder, both hands squeezing the steering wheel. Half his attention is focused on the innocuous black rectangle, straining for any sound over the speakers, a mumble, a snore, a breath. Anything to tell him that nothing has gone wrong, that Tony really is passed out drunk in the parking lot of some ritzy bar.

"Pull over here Captain." The tires squeal as Steve jerks the wheel and slams on the brakes. "The signal is coming from the alleyway adjacent-"

Steve doesn't hear the rest, he can see a shape lying sprawled in the garbage, feet pale and bare in the light of the streetlamp. Tony is lying in a puddle of congealing blood, the reactor still glowing, a hole the size of his fist punched through his stomach. Steve has never been more grateful to the war than in that moment. Mumbling soothing nonsense, he tore off his jacket and shirt, barely feeling the chill on his skin over the chill on Tony's, he fashioned a roughshod field dressing from the hastily torn cotton. Only when the wound was covered in fabric did Steve place his fingers as gently as he dared on Tony's neck, praying for a pulse.

There was none.

Steve felt colder than he did in his nightmares.

"No. God please,Tony don't.' With shaking hands he cradled Tony's ashen face, tracing his thumbs over tear tracks that had dried beneath closed eyes. "Don't do this. I can't lose anyone else. Not again. Not you." He pressed their foreheads together, his own tears falling where Tony's had so recently. "Not you."

A breath blew against his lips, so faint he might have mistaken it for an air current, had it not been so shockingly warm against his own cold face. His hand flew to Tony's throat, fingers indenting into the soft skin, willing a pulse to rise up and meet them.

It did.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of flashing lights and Jarvis' steady voice. His fingers never leaving Tony's neck. He pulled straight into the ambulance bay, screaming for help before the car had come to a complete stop. A man tried to tell him to move his car, and Steve might have decked him if he didn't have Tony cradled in his arms. Nurses swarmed him at the sight of blood, more competent than the unpunched 'parking attendant', screaming for a gurney, and an operating room.

They pulled Tony from his arms, Steve forcing himself to relax his grip, and fighting the instinct to throw a punch, and wheeled him away, mumbling things Steve only vaguely recognised from his youth. He tried to follow but was stopped by a tiny hand against his chest.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay here." Steve blinked down at the woman in front of him, barely five feet tall and standing in a way that niggled at memories of Brooklyn alleys and black eyes.

"No." Honestly Steve was surprised by his own bluntness, but he wasn't about to stand there while his friend could be dying in the other room. "I ain't gonna stand around, twiddling my thumbs while my pal needs me."

"There's nothing you can do for him." And that- Steve's whole body raged against the thought. He tried to force by a step and the woman seized his fingers, squeezing till the bones ground together. "The doctors will do everything they can." Even with everything that the future had improved it wasn't reassuring. Steve had spent too many afternoons sitting in hospital beds watching other people die. "You'd only be in the way." Steve recognised it for the ploy that it was. But that didn't stop it from working. The fight went out of his shoulders. The nurse's grip relaxed. Battle won. "Come on, you should wash up. I'll let you know if his condition changes."

Steve stared at his hands, there was blood beneath his fingernails. Tony's life was on his hands. Almost literally. He should have known there was something wrong. Thinking back it seemed so obvious. Tony had called him Steve. He kept thinking about it, over and over, but he couldn't remember a single other time Tony had used the name when he wasn't apologising. As much as Tony ever did. It was always Cap or Rogers, Capsicle… Sir… never Steve. Gah, he should have known! Should've done something sooner! But he'd just sat there, listening to him talk, and deflect from the fact that he was dying.

His mind kept going back to that alley. To the blood staining Tony's shirt, and bleeding over the reactor. Red like the armor, but so much more deadly. He kept seeing Tony's face, ash white and expressionless. His skin as cold as a winter in Germany. He couldn't die. Steve wouldn't survive. He'd already lost too much, Bucky, Peggy, his life… Tony and the team were the only thing keeping Steve anchored. Losing Tony would break the chain.

"Steve?" His head whipped up, so fast anyone else might have gotten whiplash. Natasha was standing in front of him, Clint and Bruce tiered up behind her. He blinked.

"What-"

"Jarvis told us what happened." Bruce mumbled, standing beside a pillar, hunched into himself and looking green for reasons that had nothing to do with anger.

"Oh…" His guilt tripled. He should have called them himself. He'd been so distracted, so absorbed by his own grief…

"Don't worry about it Steve, we get it." Clint offered a smile, careless and relaxed. Except his shoulders were up by his ears and he was rubbing at his chest, a tick he'd developed after Loki and which showed just how anxious he was.

"It's a lot to handle." Natasha's voice was gentle, her face blank, just as worried as Clint and twice as good at hiding it. For a while nobody said anything else, each lost to their own thoughts. The others kept glancing at him, he could see pity in the looks, but also blame. Because Tony had called him, not Bruce, or Pepper, or Rhodey, he had called Steve and Steve… Steve had failed. Tony had needed him and he- his stomach lurched and he stared at his hands, at the faint line of red capping each finger.

"I thought he was drunk." his voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. His throat was achingly dry. He didn't look up from his knees as the silence stretched. There was the scrape of a chair and, a moment later, a gentle touch against his arm.

"This wasn't your fault Steve." He couldn't do anything but shake his head, his eyes clenched shut. Natasha's hand slipped into his, squeezing painfully.

Steve wandered. He hadn't' been able to take sitting in that room listening to Clint tap his feet or Bruce's careful breathing exercises. Even Natasha, sitting beside him taking slow sips of bitter hospital coffee, had set his teeth on edge. This was taking too long. Surely they should've been finished by now? He should have heard something right? Had there been complications? Was the arc reactor getting in the way of the surgery? They wouldn't try and take it out right? Steve hadn't thought of that when he had rushed in, hadn't thought to tell them how important that little blue device really was. He wasn't sure what would happen if it was removed, Tony was real tight lipped about it, but he was sure it would be bad. Hadn't he read something about cardiac arrest?

Steve felt like his heart was going to jump out of his throat. His skin was clammy and sweaty and he thought he was maybe gonna puke. He pushed through the first door that opened, bent nearly double and breathing ragged. His thoughts were running so fast he couldn't catch on to one, each of them bloody and terrifying. He couldn't lose Tony. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't-

"Excuse ME!" His head snapped up, a tiny little kid, with a face covered in freckles, was staring at him from the middle of a hospital bed that seemed huge in comparison. Steve flushed and straightened quickly, smoothing his sweaty palms down his legs.

"Oh-uh, hi. Sorry- I- I didn't-"

"Are you okay?" Steve felt his heart clench and his eyes burned, looking into the sympathetic eyes of a child that couldn't be older than seven, with tubes coming from his nose, and wires connecting him to more machines than Steve owned, surrounded by furniture and toys that made it apparent he spent more time in the hospital than at home.

"I'm…I'm Steve."

The boy smiled and settled back against his pillows.

"I'm Carter."

Steve's heart jumped and he smiled, knowing it probably didn't look anything like it was supposed too.

"Nice to meet you Carter." He stepped forward and held out his hand, Carter giggled as he shook it.

"You can sit on my bed if you want, I don't care." he scrunched up his legs to make room, patting a spot on the blanket in invitation.

"Er- thanks, but I should probably get going-" the little boy's face fell "your mama probably wouldn't like strangers-"

"Mom's working, she won't be back till later." And Steve couldn't let the kid be by himself all day. He sat in the chair though.

Carter was apparently a very big fan of superheroes, and he spent a long time gushing to Steve and showing him his collection of action figures and plushies. His favorite was apparently Spider-Man, the combination of hero and gross insect leaving the kid in awe. But he was also very fond of Hulk, something Steve was certain would make Bruce blush, and someone called Batman, whom Steve had only heard about in passing, he thought he might have been fake? But there were so many heroes in the world these days he couldn't be sure. Carter called Clint Robin Hood, because he couldn't remember 'hawkeye' for more than a minute and Natasha could kick all the guys' butts, because his mother said so. Thor had girly hair and spent a lot of play time worrying about his good looks. Steve wa grateful Carter didn't spend too much time on Captain America, stating simply that he liked Cap's shield, but he didn't really have a lot of superpowers.

Steve was enjoying himself, his worry about Tony was like an itch in his brain but it took a back seat to Carter's enthusiasm. Until Iron Man appeared on the bedspread. His hands clenched and he swallowed down his guilt and sudden nausea. He cast a glance at the door, what if,what if, what if,- but forced his attention back to the little boy and his toys a moment later.

"My mom says me and Iron Man are alike,'cause we both have funny hearts."

"Oh?" Steve's mouth was suddenly very dry. A small nod. "You don't seem too happy about it…"

A shrug. Carter's small fingers were tracing the contours of the toy's plastic. He looked sideways at Steve, his large brown eyes like a punch to Steve's gut.

"Iron Man is pretty cool." he was suddenly speaking in a very small voice.

"He is." Steve agreed, watching the boy sink into himself.

"An' smart." Steve nodded. "'an brave. Like when he flew into space!"

"He's pretty great." Steve's voice was scratchy and he had to swallow around a lump in his throat. God he hoped Tony was okay, please let him be okay.

"Yeah." Carter's own voice was suddenly watery and there were tears in his eyes.

"Hey." Steve reached out and brushed a hand through the little boy's hair, tipping up his chin."What's wrong?"

Carter sniffled, holding the action figure close to his chest, tears suddenly running down his face.

"I'm scared."

All the air rushed out of Steve and he moved to the bed without a thought, sitting back against the pillows and scooping the boy carefully into his lap. He held him as tight as he dared, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

"Hey Carter? You know, I think you're pretty cool. And smart. And plenty brave." he gave the kid an extra squeeze. "Just like Iron Man." Brown eyes blinked up at him and he smiled, more genuinely than before.

"Even tho' I'm scared?"

"Everybody gets scared. Even superheroes." and oh, how true that was.

"Steve?" Clint's voice echoed in from the hallway, his whole body tensed. "Steve!"

"I gotta go Carter."

"Okay."

He extricated himself slowly, trying not to show how much he was shaking, and rushed to the hallway with a hasty goodbye.

"Clint?"

"Steve!" The archer jogged down the hallway towards him. "There you are! There's a nurse lookin' for you!"

Superheroes definitely got scared.

"I'm sorry. We did everything we could. We've made him comfortable, he's not hurting. He's awake. He's asking for you. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Tony."

"Hrrm? Steeve! Heey."

"Hey…"

"J'ssuh sec'n. Trred...Hey. L'ssen. I wanna- wanna apolog'ze."

"What?"

"Apolog'ze. For you, findin' me like tha'. Tha', this isn't on you Cap. Thisis, thisis my faul', my problm."

"Tony-"

"I don' want you feelin' guilty about this Rogers."

"Stop- Tony! Stop! You're gonna- you're gonna be fine. Just...fine."

"Snrt. Yer' an awful liar Rogers. Its sweet."

"They're gonna save you Tony, you're gonna beat this."

"I been saved Cap. Got my ch'nce to attone 'n… up."

"Don't do this. Tony. Tony please… We need you."

"Nah. Pepp'r'll take care of you guys. N' Rhodes has a suit, he- he's prob'ly b'tter for the team anyway."

"That's not true! Tony- that's-"

"S'okay Steve, you don' have to be nice jus' cuz'm dying. I'mma big boy, I c'n take it."

"That's not- I wouldn't- I- Tony-"

"S'okay, Cap, s'okay."

"No it's not, it's not. Tony. Please...please, don't…"

"Makin' Cap'n America cry. Now Im really goin' t'hell."

"No! You're not, you won't- heaven, heaven's the only place for you Tony. You- you're too good for any place else."

"Ha, sure. Me n' Hitler c'n shoot pool with Peter...face it Steve, m' a bad guy n' I'm headed straight t'the inner circles. S'okay."

"Stop saying that, dammit! None of this is okay Tony! None of it! None of it…how- how could you think that about yourself? Dammit Tony. Dammit…"

"..."

"..."

"... Steve?... I'm scared…"

Slowly Steve rose from his seat, settling on the bed beside the billionaire and drawing him carefully to his chest, one hand over his struggling heart and held him as he cried silently, his body shaking in Steve's arms. He held him as he slept, dreaming painful drug heavy dreams. Held him as his body went cold and his heart gave out beneath his hand. And then he merely sat there, weeping, the arc reactor still casting it's ethereal light, still working to save Tony Stark.