A/N: So this is a little something I've been toying with lately. I'm not sure If I'm going to continue it or not, I guess we'll see based on the amount of feedback I get from it.

Soo..yeah. Enjoy.

Cross posted from Archive Of Our Own

Disclaimed.

Steve sat in the less-than-comfortable chair they provided, staring at the grain and trying to pick out a pattern. He didn't really feel like sharing today, like they so wanted him to do.

"Captain Rogers." His therapist, an aging woman with a pleasant smile and trusting face walked in, sitting down across from him. "How are you this afternoon?"

"Fine," Steve replied automatically. In fact, he was far from fine, but he didn't really want to tell a S.H.I.E.L.D. shrink that. For all he knew they reported every syllable he said directly to Fury and he didn't really want Fury knowing what went on in his mind.

"How are you coping after the loss of the last battle?"

Steve stiffened slightly, but a quick look over the doctor's face confirmed that she didn't catch it. He didn't really want to talk about the last battle right now. The fight had gone as well as could be, until the end. And then it had gone horribly wrong. It wasn't anything major—just some bots controlled by some guy who thought he was the next best thing. Honestly, Steve had already forgotten his name.

But the robots had put up a valiant fight, and despite their best efforts, a civilian was killed during the battle. It was the first person they'd lost since the Battle Of New York, and it was eating away at Steve inside.

He wasn't sure how much he could tell the doctor that, though, considering he was supposed to be immobile. These sessions were mostly just about him adapting to the 21st century after all. Though he supposed dealing with death was part of that.

And that in itself was bitter humor, considering everyone he'd known—or, almost everyone—was dead now. Peggy was alive, though she was back in England and he hadn't found the courage to give her a call yet. Dum Dum had died. Gabe, James, and Jacques had died too. Jim was alive, but in geriatric care at the Veteran's Hospital. He was pretty sure Jim's heart wouldn't be able to take seeing him again, especially since he hadn't aged a day.

"I'm coping," Steve said quietly, bringing his eyes up from the desk to look at the doctor. "It's hard, it's hard on all of us, but we're all getting through it." They were all coping with it in their own ways.

Tony, now that he had no choice but to live in New York at the Tower since his Malibu home had been destroyed, had come home and literally picked Pepper up. He tossed her over his shoulder and retreated to their floor of the Tower, and disabled access to that floor. The two of them hadn't been out for a few days now.

Natasha had an impenetrable mask that no one except for maybe Clint could read through. She very rarely let things like this get to her. She was an assassin after all, and knew better than most of them that casualties had to happen. Clint was much the same as Natasha, and Steve knew that the two of them would help each other cope. He didn't want to think too much further into that.

Bruce and Thor hadn't been there. The Hulk was something they left for emergencies. He usually worked behind the scenes, tapping into satellite surveillance and warning them when something was coming they couldn't see. Thor hadn't been back to Earth since the attack at New York, no matter how frustrating it was for the S.H.I.E.L.D. superiors who wanted to contact him.

And Steve… Well, Steve was a soldier. Loss was something he had to understand. Something that went hand in hand with his job. "We'll be fine." He eventually said, making sure to give the doctor a calm smile.

They would be fine. Eventually.

"Well well well, look who finally decided to join us!" Clint was perched on top of a bookshelf when Steve came down from his room. "Been a while, Spangle pants."

Tony laughed and Steve couldn't help but crack a smile. Jokes about his uniform were quite common, and he'd long since learned to not let them bother him. Sitting down at the table, he grabbed a croissant from the middle. "What's the story, Capsicle?" Tony asked, leaning forward and eyeing him. "You're usually up crack of dawn."

It was true that Steve had overslept today, but he really didn't find it note worthy. Obviously, the others did, and he shook his head. "Late night."

"You went to bed at like, eight. How is that late?"

Steve backpedaled, shrugging to try to dispel the panic he was feeling starting to grow. "I—wasn't able to sleep. I was up most of the night. Insomnia or something." Steve didn't miss the way Tony sat back, giving him a critical look, but he thought nothing of it. The man was always jumping to conclusions, and most of them were really farfetched.

The silence dragged on, Steve ate his croissant and contemplated bolting. Anything to get away from the stares and oppressive silence of his team mates. Clint and Natasha sipped their coffees from their respective seats—Natasha sat like a human at the table while Clint surveyed the room from his perch—and Tony didn't let his eyes wander from Steve's face for a long time. Bruce sat in silence, reading the paper and eating his plate of fruits.

Finally the billionaire sighed and leaned forward. "Right. Now that most of us are here." He dug into his pocket, fishing out a small box and opening it, letting it slide to the table. Steve leaned forward and saw it was a ring box. "I have an announcement."

"What, you're going to propose to the whole team?" Bruce asked from behind his paper and Tony smirked, shaking his head.

"I'm already married to my work, sorry I can't two time it. No— this," He smiled and Steve noticed genuine happiness in his eyes. Happiness and nerves. "I'm going to propose to Pepper. You guys think this is a good idea?"

Natasha shrugged, "Pepper and I aren't exactly friends." The two red heads hadn't gotten over their differences from when Natasha was sent to spy on Tony during the whole Justin Hammer incident. Pepper didn't trust Natasha and Natasha didn't really blame her. Tony had gotten over it pretty quickly, but the master spy assumed that was just because he liked the way she looked. "So I don't have any input."

"I think it's a good idea," Bruce said, looking over to the ring and nodding at what he saw. It was a pretty thing, though he wasn't sure about what Pepper did or didn't like. The band was white gold, with gems in the center set to look like the original arc reactor that Tony had had in his chest. "But isn't that…more your taste than hers?"

"Nah, she loved that one. Remember? "Actual Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart." Saved my life with that one, I think it's sentimental."

Truth was everyone at the table knew that Pepper would love it. Sure it was another reminder of just how selfish Tony actually was, but she was used to it. And she really did find the glow of his reactor comforting. "So I'm kind of… you know, giving her my heart by doing this."

No one could really argue that.

"Another."

"Where are you putting all of these, buddy?"

"Just—just give me another."

The bartender gave him a worried look before doing as he asked. He wasn't sure where this guy was stashing it all, but somehow he didn't even seem remotely drunk. It was odd, considering the man had racked up a couple thousand dollars on his tab tonight. But he made him another drink, sliding it in front of him. He knew he should have told him he was cut off long ago, but the man didn't seem to be suffering any sort of repercussions from it.

Steven Rogers took the glass and stared at it for a long moment, internally debating on savoring this one or just chugging it. Is this what he was reduced to? Is this what happened when heroes fell? He brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip. He was just like Tony. Drowning his problems in the drink. How ironic.

If only he could be like Tony and just get drunk.

"I thought I'd find you here." Speak of the devil.

"Go away, Tony." Steve growled, fingers clenching around the glass. He was careful though, making sure he didn't break the glass. Around him people gasped at seeing Tony Stark. Though he wasn't an uncommon frequenter at bars, he'd been better since getting together with Pepper. Besides, he was a long way away from his home in Malibu.

"Come on Cap, I'm in New York and you're holing yourself up in a bar?" Steve could hear the smirk in Tony's voice and wanted to turn around and punch him out. He just wanted to be alone. "You should be at the Tower with the rest of us, Steve." Tony's voice was lower now, and he pulled up a stool, sitting next to Steve. "We were going to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" Steve glanced at him briefly. He knew exactly what they wanted to celebrate. They wanted to celebrate Tony and Pepper's engagement. They wanted to celebrate the one year anniversary of the attack on New York. They wanted to be together, on the rare occasion everyone had time off. And Steve wanted to be nowhere but a bar.

"You know damn well what." Steve brought his glass to his lips, chugging the stinging liquid easily. Tony sighed and drummed his fingers on the counter and Steve raised his empty glass, signaling the bar tender.

"Another?" The man asked, his eyebrows lowered with concern and probably a little bit of surprise. The arrival of Tony Stark had him putting two and two together. The man sitting before him was Captain America, and he spent his night in a bar.

"No, he doesn't need any more." Tony fished into his pocket, grabbing his wallet and throwing his credit card at the man. "Charge me, I'm taking him home."

"Tony you don't have to—"

"Don't have to what, Steve? Pay for the thousands of dollars you've spent here? Yeah I kind of do have to." Tony lost the calm exterior he'd painted on. After all, the man only had so much patience, especially since he was in a bar. He was a recovering alcoholic, not a God. He wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm a billionaire, and you…well, you're on S.H.I.E.L.D. salary—or you were, last time I looked."

Tony raised a finger to stop Steve from saying anything, choosing instead to continue. "You don't have the kind of money you're forking out. I know. I looked into it. And before you get all huffy about your "rights" as an America Citizen, just let me remind you: I don't care."

Steve stood up with a huff and Tony followed suit. He grabbed his card back from the bar tender and followed the irate Captain out. "Where you going to go, Capsicle? I took your bike!" He'd taken every measure possible to get Steve back to the Tower. The team was concerned about their leader. They'd noticed his odd behavior, and while Tony hadn't been their first choice, they figured he'd be the only one blunt enough to get through to the Captain.

"Come home, Steve." Tony's voice was quiet now, and Steve stopped walking. He hadn't missed the pleading note in Tony's voice, and it gave him pause. Tony never begged.

"I don't want to go home yet, Tony." Steve muttered quietly, and the billionaire shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I'm bringing you home."

Steve sighed, shaking his head. He knew Tony couldn't do anything to him without Steve letting him. After all, Steve could just run and Tony would never be able to keep up. But if Tony, the world's biggest asshole, was willing to come out here and be concerned about him, he might as well go ahead and go home. Doesn't mean he has to talk.

So Steve let Tony lead him into the limousine. He sat in a seat and tried not to eye the minibar that was in it. Tony, for his part, ignored the bar and instead concentrated on Steve. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Steve took this time to study Tony. The man who, by all rights, should be in a psychiatric ward, was asking him to open up. Tony Stark rarely wanted to know what went on in other people's heads. He had enough to worry about on his own without adding someone else's troubles to it. He didn't know that Tony had been the first one to spot something wrong with Steve. He didn't know that he'd sat the rest of the team down and asked them about it. He didn't know that they'd been keeping tabs on him for a while now. And he didn't want to know.

"There's nothing going on. I was out for a drink."

"Right," Tony leaned forward, clasping his hands together lightly in front of him and studying the man out of time critically. "So if I were to bring up my credit card statement, right here, right now, the charge on it from that bar would only be ten fifty."

Steve stared at him and didn't try to question how Tony knew how much that one drink was. Being a recovering alcoholic, Tony obviously knew. "Well… no. And I'll pay you back."

"That's not the issue." Tony opened his home to the Avengers and supplied everything they needed. The team didn't have to pay for anything unless they wanted to, and the man never complained. He might be selfish in a lot of things, but Tony also had a big heart. Money was one thing Tony had in surplus, and he never let them forget it. "I want to know what's happening, Steve. Something's going on. Something you're not telling us."

The super soldier shifted in his seat, finding the closed space confining. "There's nothing going on. Or at least nothing that S.H.I.E.L.D. can't help me with."

"Right, because your bi-weekly therapy sessions are going to do you a ton of good." Tony grumbled to himself. "It's trouble adjusting, right? To this century?"

"Something like that," Steve dodged the question, staring out the window. It was going to be a long night.

"Everything special about you came out of a bottle."

Steve sat up in bed later that night with a panicked gasp. He sat in his darkened room, staring at the far wall as his chest heaved and his heart slammed against his ribs. The words continued to ring in his ears and he had a hard time shutting out the images form his dream.

The war. It was always the war. But Tony's voice always seemed to worm its way in. It always seemed to be there, making everything worse. It was always reminding him that he was nothing more than a show pony for the US army.

He never should have been anything.

Steve sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and forcing himself to his feet.

"I'm starting to think they should have kept him on ice,"

He hadn't been meant to hear those words, but he'd been going over security footage with Agent Hill later and he'd heard them. They plagued him know, because he knew it was true. If they hadn't found him—

New York would be destroyed, a small part of his mind whispered as he got dressed. You were a big help—a help? He had a shield. That was it, he did nothing.

Steve glanced at the shield in question. It hung proudly over his bed, ready at a moment's notice to plunge into battle. Steve didn't know if he'd ever take it out against an enemy again. But, here he was, taking it off the wall.

He should just leave.

Get out. Damn the internal voices.

Tony had found him last time he'd gotten out. But he sure as hell wasn't going make that mistake again. If he got on that bike, he wasn't ever stopping.

It took him a few moments to make his decision. He grabbed his suitcase, shoving in a few pairs of clothes into it, grabbing his wallet and shoving it in his pocket. He gave his shield a once over, fingers carefully running over the details.

You're deserting your duties. A voice whispered in the back of his mind. Steve put the shield on his bed, looking down at it sadly. You jumped at the chance to join the army—why are you leaving now?

They didn't need him. Not now. Not ever, really. Everyone else was so much—better than he was. They all had something to offer the team and even the world.

No one even remembered who he was anymore.

So let them think of him as a coward. Sure, at one time he'd told Peggy that he wouldn't run away from a fight, but that was over seventy years ago.

Peggy wasn't in the picture and Steve couldn't care less right now.

He was an old man and a young adult bundled into one. Technically speaking, he was over ninety years old, but in his mind and heart he was only twenty one. Barely legal and hardly able to tell what's a bomb and what's a common house hold appliance.

Steve sighed and tossed his suitcase over his shoulder, turning his back on what he'd always found peace in.

There is no war. He stepped out of his apartment in the Tower, and stepped into the elevator.

I'm not a soldier, I'm a figure head. Even during the Battle of New York he'd been used as more of a commander than anything. He was just wanted for strategy. Not because they liked him. Or because they needed him.

They don't need me. They've never needed me.

So he was going to leave. Tony would make a good leader, anyway. He pretended like he wouldn't be, but he was. He just needed a shove. Steve hoped that this would be his shove.

Steve pressed the button in the elevator that would take him to the garage. Stepping out once the elevator landed, he let himself be impressed by Tony's collection of cars. The man really did have a thing for them.

Shaking his head with a small smile, he went over to his motorcycle that he'd bought. He'd saved up for it and gotten it himself, once he'd thawed. Bikes always made him feel like he was back home. Taking the dust cover off, he stored it carefully in the little storage area under the seat and got on.

The Captain revved the engine and drove out of the garage. He paused when he got to the end of the drive way, turning back to look at the Tower he was leaving behind, before shaking his head.

It's better this way.

And with that he merged into traffic and took off.

"Sir, Captain Rogers has left the Tower."

Tony sat back in his chair, frowning at the blueprints laid out before him. "I wonder where he's gone this time… Thanks, J." Tony rubbed his eyes with one hand, grumbling to himself about Steve and his new erratic habits.

The Captain was as easy to figure out as Barton and Romanov were. Or he had become that way, lately. And it bothered Tony to no end. The billionaire prided himself on his knowledge of his team mates, and it bugged him that he couldn't figure Steve out.

Typing in a few commands to his computer, Tony checked Steve's recent spending habits. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"So what's put ants in your pants, Steve-O?" Tony asked the empty lab, wondering just what he could do. "And what can we do to help you?"