A/N So, I was talking to a friend about my unfinished Avengers stories (forgot to mention this one, sorry darling :D) and found this piece from about 3 years ago. I had big plans but I'm not sure if that is ever going to happen. I don't want it to go to waste so take it as a strange one-shot :)
It's unbeta'd, sorry about that, but I hope you still have fun reading it.

33

"Anthony, the Boss wants to see you."

Tony looked and James and rolled his eyes. They were in the Great Hall, enjoying their well-deserved break.

Of course he wanted to talk to him, when did he not?

Jameson laughed at his friend, "What did you do this time? Bring the wrong soul to hell?"

"Oh, if it were that easy," Tony pursed his lips, then smiled quickly. "You going to take my call from the hospital while I talk to the boss?"

He'd just been about to collect Mr Stiles. The poor man had spent his last week completely alone in the hospital; bed ridden. He'd had led a long, great life of honour and love, he deserved to be reunited with his wife in heaven. He had been lonely for the past ten years.

"Sure," James shrugged, his dark wings copying the motion, rustling the feathers. With a wave he headed out the door.

"Come on," Maria snapped impatiently.

"Coming, coming." Tony sighed and trudged after Nicholas's assistant, flexing his own black wings.

33

"You know why you are here?"

He hadn't even sat down before Nicholas looked up from his papers and fixed him with a cold stare. Phil, his ever loyal Saint Bernhard, stood to his right, wings folded as neatly as his hands behind his back. Tony gave him his own stink eye, knowing that the coordinator had ratted him out.

"No idea," he hedged and let himself fall on the uncomfortable armchair, wincing as he accidentally sat on the tips of his wings.

"Oh, you have no idea?" Nicholas frowned. "No idea, why the soul you have been send to collect 13 hours," he looked at his paper as if the time made any difference in this case, "46 minutes and 8 seconds ago, is now sitting with his mother and best friend at the breakfast table."

"It was a false alarm," the Angel of Death shrugged matter fact-ly.

"False alarm," Phil raised an challenging eyebrow. "Are you implying I wasn't doing my job right?" He was standing calmly in the same position, yet his face was daring Tony to say it.

"I didn't say that." He really didn't want to get on Phil's bad side. "I'm just saying I was there, he wasn't ready to die so I didn't take him. End of story. Can I go?"

"If this happens again, you'll be on suspension."

"Whatever," Tony said, already out of his seat and halfway to the door. While he cared on which side he stood with Phil - he could send him to really evil places after all - he didn't care what Nicholas thought of him. Actually he was pretty sure Nicholas hated him.

Skipping out into the hall with an extra boost from his wings, he made his way back to the great hall to wait for his next assignment.

"Anthony."

Of fucking course it wasn't that easy. He stopped and turned back to face Phil.

"Young Mr Rogers' time was there, you just gifted him with a longer life full of pain and illness." Phil said, not unkindly, but in his no-nonsense voice.

Tony winced despite himself, but his voice didn't waver. "He wasn't ready."

The Coordinator just looked at him for a moment and Tony did his best not to squirm.

Finally the old Angel sighed, "Just remember that it was your choice to be an Angel of Death and not, in fact, a Guardian Angel." And without another word Phil stretched his wings and flew off.

Yeah, yeah. And he didn't regret his choice, really. He liked to guide the fulfilled souls home, listening to their stories on their way. It was good. It felt right. Still, it gets a bit tiring as well. He was doing this for.. years now, he didn't even know how many. Since his death, and that must have been centuries ago, the world didn't look like he vaguely remembered it from his life time anymore.

The only thing he remembered was that he didn't have many people who would have mourned his passing. Not that he was a bad person - couldn't have been or he wouldn't be here - he guessed he was just private. Or misunderstood or something. What he did remember was that he had been with the police, or a private detective maybe. That was pretty cool.

He had been bad ass, and must have saved a lot of people or, again, he wouldn't be here.

That, and he remembered that he hadn't been alone. So maybe he hadn't had a lot of people but he hadn't been alone either. Maybe a wife, or a partner in his job. Maybe.

He had been told it was normal that his past life was hazy. It was a coping mechanism.

The first clear memory was of him waking up and an sinister voice – he was pretty sure it had been Phil, muffling his own voice for coolness - asking him if he would like to pass on or if he still had spirit left to help humanity. Well, he had never been one to sit around idly. At least he thought he'd never been.

Then he had been given another choice. He could support the living, help them in their need, or he could collect the souls of the dead, to sooth them when they are suddenly beside their body and then guide them to their afterlife.

The decision wasn't hard. He didn't think he had the patience to help stupid people and he wasn't fond of being the silent supporter. Guiding the dead had been a good choice, he knew, here he could at least be seen. He could decide himself if he wanted to chat with them or not.

However, it was mean, having to decide in a second what he wanted to do for the next decades or something.

Still he thought he'd made the right decision, he was happy with his job

But when he was send to collect little kids, well, his heart wasn't made of stone.

At least he's been telling himself this was the reason he couldn't take the Rogers kid. He couldn't explain it himself.

Rogers was just-

"Heard you screwed up."

A hand connected with the back of his head, jerking him out of his thoughts. Tony squawked, swatted at Virginia with one hand and rubbed his head with the other, pouting dramatically.

"Trying to steal my job?" the Guardian Angel smirked at him.

"As if I wanted such ugly white wings. I would blind myself when the sun reflects on them."

Virginia rolled her eyes and delivered another quick punch to his arm.

"Where's James?"

"Malaysia. Should be back soon."

"Picking up your slack, huh?"

"Doing me a favour," Tony insisted, pulling out a chair for her when they reached the Great Hall. Yes, he could be a gentleman.

"So, what did you do?" Tasha asked when he was seated as well.

Tony buried his face in his arm on the table, folding one of his wings over his head for good measure. "I don't know," he whined. "I did it like usual, in the window, out the window. The in-between went different though."

33

He went in smoothly like always, the curtains barely brushing his wings. Practise.

Today he was to collect a boy, thirteen years old, severely asthmatic, dying from pneumonia. Poor boy didn't have a chance.

Tony was a bit late today so it shouldn't be long until-

"Who are you?"

Ups, already? He looked up and was shocked to be met by a pair a very alive eyes, blinking up at him, instead of an translucent soul looking down morosely at its former body.

"Uh.." he looked at the kid in the bed, buried under blankets and propped up by small pillows. "Hi," he said eloquently. Shit. The boy could see him, and he wasn't dead. Fuck. "Uhm.."

"You have.. pretty wings," the blond kid wheezed between panting breaths.

"That's, yeah, thanks," Tony stuttered, tucking his wings behind himself consciously. Ok seriously, he didn't know the protocol here. Not that he had read the whole damn guide book, but he had skimmed it!

"Could you- could you whisper? I don't want 'em.. to wake up," Rogers said with effort, gesturing to the two forms on his bedside. One an older woman Tony guessed to be his mother, and the other another small boy, probably Rogers age, his friend, Tony guessed. As far as he knew there wasn't a second Rogers kid.

"Oh, don't worry, they can't hear me," Tony reassured. At least he hoped they couldn't. Today anything was possible it seemed.

The kids eyes narrowed a little. "Are you.. and Angel? Why can only.. I hear you? Are going to t-take me?" Rogers held his one hand very still, the one that was gripped by his mother, the other went to clutch his chest, grimacing in obvious pain.

What a smart little boy. "I uh," he passed the boy curled up on a chair and went to the sick one's bedside. "Yeah, I'm an Angel." Why not tell the truth, maybe it would help. Roger's just looked at him with glassy eyes, cheeks red with fever.

"I don't," Rogers had to pause to get more air, "don't want to go." To Tony's surprise he didn't see fear in the young one's eyes, only determination.

"People seldom do, Rogers. It's out of our hands."

"I can't go," he insisted stubbornly, gulping air in greedily. Soon, Tony knew.

"Are you not in pain, don't you want this to stop?"

"No. I can," another pause, "I can take it. Mom needs me. And Bucky."

And Tony believed him. He believed this boy could take a lot more, that he was so much stronger than he looked. Still, it was his time.

"Please, Mr Angel-"

"Anthony." Why did he do that? He didn't tell his charges his name. He didn't want to get attached.

"Anthony, I want to stay."

"What you want is not of relevance," he said, a little regret coating his voice. He liked the kid.

"I- I refuse to die." How could such a frail little child set his jaw in such a stubborn way?

"So what? You'll just lie there and refuse?"

"Sh, I'm.. concentrating."

"On what?"

"Breathing."

Tony snorted, but the kid really did just that, relaxing back into his pillow, eyes on the ceiling, and then he just breathed. It was painful to watch, the hitching, and the quiet coughs, but Rogers held on.

Tony sat and waited running his hands through his feathers every now and then, making sure they were in order, and soon he realised, the kid should have died thirty minutes ago according to his schedule.

However, it was obvious that his stubbornness would not hold. His breathing had a short stage of improvement before getting worse again, eyes only managing half-mast anymore.

It's been some time since Tony has disliked his job, but usually he didn't have to see so much of the dying procedure either. This pained even his job-hardened heart.

Slowly he reached out and - ignoring the wince from the boy - gently put his hand on the fevered brow.

"You don't have to suffer through this, just.. let go."

The boy shook his head slightly and again this stubborn jaw came to work. Then tears gathered in the ocean blue eyes. He knew he was losing.

Another fifteen minutes, and finally Tony couldn't take it anymore. "Ok, you win!"

Roger's eyes immediately landed on him. "I swear to Phil, if I lose my job over this, I'm bringing your soul to hell, innocent child or not." With that he put his right hand on the small, heaving chest.

Instantly, the boy's lungs filled with air, his eyes going wide. He blew out again without coughing.

Rogers hand unclenched from his chest as he drew in another breath and reached out to settle on Tony's, clutching the bigger hand. This time, it was the Angel who flinched at the touch. He didn't know when he was last touched by a human. Tony couldn't help but stare at the small hand wrapped around his, before he shook himself out of it and concentrated again. He couldn't give the kid an instant healing - would be suspicious anyway – but he did enough that he could safely remove his hand from Rogers' chest and still the boy could breathe a lot easier than before.

Rogers took a few testing breath before asking, "'m going to live?"

He was still clutching Tony's hand, but the Angel couldn't bring himself to shake him off. "Yeah, you'll live."

"Thank you," the boy blinked the tears from his eyes, one escaping down his cheek. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Calm down, Rogers, you ruin my work," Tony frowned and only continued when he indeed calmed a bit. "You must know though, I can't see in the future. I don't know how long."

"Fine, that's fine. I don't even want to know. Thank you."

Tony grunted and finally pulled his hand free. Why had he done that? Phil was going to kill him. He was so screwed.

Rubbing his forehead in frustration he rose from where he had sat down earlier on a free space of the bed.

"Wait," his hand was snatched up once again. "Please can you just.."

"Look, Rogers, I'm already late and-"

"Please, stay just a little bit. Just until I fall asleep." Oh sure, now he was afraid. Now that the worst was over.

"Fine, but hurry up, Rogers." What was wrong with him?

The kid gave him a grateful smile – the first smile – and dutifully closed his eyes.

"'m Steve."

"Whatever."

As soon as Rogers – Steve's – breath evened out as much as it could, Tony was gone.

33

Virginia nodded knowingly as she took a sip of her tea. They were waiting for their next assignment, waiting for James and the others and enjoying a cup of their preferred drinks. Tony's was coffee, without question.

"It's not uncommon for children to see us. They see the world with different eyes. They usually forget though and if they tell their parents - get the chance to tell their parents - then we are written off as fantasies or dreams, so don't worry," she said, putting down her mug. "What I'd like to know is why you saved him."

"You didn't see him, he was in so much pain and he just.. held on." Tony couldn't even explain it. He just felt that he did the right thing. It wasn't just pity, it was.. yeah, he couldn't explain.

"He was so stubborn faced with his own death, so determined.. I couldn't..argh," he threw up his hands in frustration. "Let's just say I did it, it's done. Let's forget about it."

Virginia took another sip, smiling bemused. She didn't get to see Anthony this flustered a lot.