This is gonna' be a long first chapter...But hey! It has to be! :D Okay, so what started out as just a little filler, and a small story to stop my writer's block so I can actually start on 'Would It Matter' (Still haven't yet *facepalm*), has turned into this; a ten chapter story. My first one! *Pumps fist towards sky*

So, yeah, if you could please excuse the lengths of the chapters, and if my writing is horrible. I apologize. It's just that I hope this is a good story, I honestly never know when it comes to my stories... I was hoping to have it published by August 17, last Wednesday, which was my birthday, but then; *drum roll* life happened. *deadpans*

So, after all that, please enjoy and R/R! :)

Disclaimer: Um, nope. I don't own this. Or even any other of my stories!


"I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat," Tony said as the six Avengers all stumbled into the main living room of the Tower.

They had just finished fighting a group of would-be-terrorists, and were all hungry, beat-up and bruised, but were also too exhausted to really care.

They didn't even bother to turn on the lights once they were all in the room. "I'm just gonna' turn in for the night." Tony said with a yawn. Several simultaneous 'goodnights' were mumbled before Tony left the room, leaving only five Avengers.

Clint and Thor did the usual thing they did after a mission; they went to the fridge to heat up some food to eat, while Natasha collapsed on the nearest couch.

"Yeah, I think I might, too." Bruce said as he waved once to everyone while walking out of the room, looking utterly drained while doing so.

"Same here," Natasha said quietly. She got up from the couch wearily and headed towards the hallway, where her room was located. Tony had set up rooms for all of the Avengers on one floor so that after every mission they could just go there and crash where they wouldn't be disturbed.

She offered a goodnight before leaving the room like she always did; quietly and stealthily, even though she was thoroughly worn out.

A 'ding' could be heard, signaling Clint and Thor's food was ready, so they lazily took the food out and started eating.

During this whole process, however, Steve had remained planted in the doorway entrance to the room.

Leaning heavily on the sides of it.

His eyes kept threatening to close, but he had refused to let them do so until everyone was safe and sound. He glanced over at the archer and god who tiredly ate there spaghetti; looking like they were about to pass out any second.

It had been 49 hours since Steve had last slept.

He would love to lie and say it was because he had been too busy, but he couldn't.

It was because of fear.

Fear of being burdened with the same nightmares over and over like always. But right now he couldn't really bring himself to care very much as exhaustion started taking over. And the pain from being thrown into the side of a brick building maybe once.

Or twice.

He straightened himself and somehow started walking over to the hallway, even though he hadn't even really thought that much about doing so. Before exiting the room, however, he paused and turned around to face his teammates.

"You did good, guys. I'll see you in the morning," He said and Clint did a poor excuse of a salute, and Thor just smiled. Steve smiled back before heading down the hallway to his room.

He carefully and quietly opened his room's door, and entered it; making sure he didn't make nearly a sound to wake the others.

Although a train could probably come barreling through and not even wake up his exhausted teammates.

He didn't even bother changing out of his uniform before collapsing onto his bed. He moved onto his back, and had fallen asleep before even getting the chance to say his usual night prayers.


"Are you gonna' dance with her or not, Steve?" Bucky asked in exasperation at the shy blonde standing beside him. Steve was gazing at Peggy from across the dance floor like a lovesick puppy.

Or golden retriever, as Bucky had told him he looked like a lot. Bucky gave him a friendly shove to the shoulder, snapping Steve out of his daydream.

"What?" Steve asked, absolutely clueless. Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Go ask her. Now." He demanded while crossing his arms. Steve sighed.

"You know I can't do that, Buck." He said, earning an exasperated look from Bucky.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're afraid you'll make a fool out of yourself and then she'll hate you and you'll live the rest of your life being miserable. Well, look, you've made a fool out of yourself in front of me plenty of times, but I still like you." Bucky said and this time it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes.

"You always know just what to say," Steve muttered, and Bucky smirked before going serious again.

"Steve, come on, Peggy likes you, you like her. You're a great guy, Steve, and I know Peggy's not gonna' pass up the chance to be with you." Bucky said before patting Steve on the back, causing Steve to smile shyly.

"Now; go." He said before gently shoving Steve forward. Steve cast a soft glare back at Bucky who just smirked, before taking a deep breath and fixing his uniform. Here goes nothing, he thought to himself, before heading over towards Peggy's direction.

She was standing next to a couple of other girls, laughing and smiling, and Steve didn't think he had ever felt any more nervous than he did right in that moment; not even when he became Captain America.

Peggy was wearing a beautiful white flowing dress, and had her hair down and was wearing that bright red lipstick she seemed to always have on.

Ever since his almost death with crashing Schmidt's plane in the ice, he had eagerly been waiting for the night when they would go dancing. It had been postponed due to all of his injuries with the crash, but now Howard had insisted on having a party to celebrate Captain America's survival.

Steve took another deep breath before walking up to Peggy, greeting both her and the other ladies with a smile. One of the ladies blushed while the other one shyly tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Steve," Peggy said with a small smile. He held out his hand to her.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, and could practically feel Bucky's smirk from behind him as he watched Steve and Peggy.

Peggy also had a hint of a smirk in her chocolate colored eyes, that he could lost in. Peggy placed her hand in his and he lead her out to the dance floor.

A slow song started playing, and her hand drifted up to his shoulders, while his hands went to the sides of her waist.

They started swaying to the soft music, and Steve couldn't think of any other time when he had ever felt so happy and comfortable in all of his life.

Peggy slowly leaned in until her head was resting in the crook of his neck, and so her arms were at a more comfortable place. He could see out of the corner of his eyes that Bucky was grinning like a madman and Steve just chuckled inwardly.

He gently brought her closer to him, protectively and sighed with contentment. Suddenly, their moment of tranquility was interrupted by a loud 'bang'. Steve immediately looked up just in time to see his best friend fall to his knees, blood splattered on his chest.

Their eyes locked gazes for a split second, before a lifeless look glazed over Bucky's eyes and he fell to the ground. The room erupted in chaos, and everyone around Steve all started dying from gunshots.

Steve and Peggy rushed over to Bucky, but he knew it was too late. Amidst all of the confusion and terror, Steve was by Bucky's side, checking for a pulse, but feeling none.

"No!" He cried out as he looked down at his dead best friend, but then heard a scream come from behind him.

He quickly turned around and saw Peggy clutching her chest where red spotted her white dress, and fall down to the ground dead. Horror filled his chest as he watched the scene play out before him.

"No, this can't be happening!" He shouted as he crawled over to her limp body. He saw Howard and all of his fellow commandoes all dying one by one.

"No! God, please don't let this happen!" He prayed aloud, but cried out in horror as he looked down at all of his friend's body. Tears spilled over the edges of his eyes as everyone around him died.

Suddenly, a dark figure emerged from the shadows holding a smoking gun. "You monster!" Steve yelled out at it, but it only laughed in bitter amusement.

"They are all dead, you can not bring them back! You've outlived them Captain America! You are alone! They can never be brought back," The voice paused and he heard a gun cock, "So let me bring you to them," The figure said calmly.

Steve faintly heard a loud bang ring out into the air, before everything went black.


Steve jolted awake, panting heavily as sweat clung to his brow. He gasped for air, but none came. He grasped the sheets around him and took a moment to realize it was just a dream. He took a few shaky deep breaths, but nothing seemed to calm him down.

He had his fists clenched so tight, he could feel himself losing feeling in them. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his lungs begged for air, but he couldn't fill them. He clumsily climbed out of bed and suddenly felt way too claustrophobic.

He needed out.

He ran out of his room shakily, and went to the stairs, knowing that he'd go crazy in the elevator.

The whole world was spinning, but he tried to stay upright. His breaths were shallow and his lungs felt like they had ceased up; he felt as if he was having an asthma attack again.

He tried to shake the image of Bucky's bloodstained shirt out of his mind, but nothing worked.

He kept being flooded with the images of Bucky and Peggy slowly dying right beside him; their screams kept echoing in his head and tearing at every piece of him. He stumbled forward, but somehow managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto the stairwell railing.

He ran straight down to the door and fumbled with the knob, before yanking it open and running outside. He was immediately welcomed by a cool, brisk breeze and almost sighed in relief. He could feel the tension slip away as he felt the wind blow onto his skin.

It was then that he realized he was still wearing his uniform from the day before, and it was probably about 2:00 A.M.

He looked around and noticed a bunch of cars driving by and loud noises, and bright lights surrounded him. He looked to the side and noticed a small road leading to a more secluded area.

He closed his eyes a moment, to try and get rid of the horrible images in his eyes, and headed towards that road.

About twenty minutes later, he found himself in some small town, quite a ways from the Tower, just walking and thinking about different things. He tried to think about good things, like his new teammates and friends, but that only reminded him of his old teammates and friends.

And how Bucky had been so young, and so full of life. And just because Steve wasn't fast enough, Bucky had lost all of that. He heard a shuffling sound, and paused to make sure he had heard right.

He heard it again, only slightly quieter, and immediately went on guard; but it was too late. Suddenly, about six guys emerged from a nearby alley, while four came out from the shadows behind him.

He managed to land a few good hits on a couple of them, and even knock a couple of the people out. But that provided him nothing as he felt a tremendous force hit the back of his head and shatter.

His vision suddenly became blurry and he fell to his knees. He was suddenly reminded of how much being thrown into a brick wall can affect a person's fighting skills.

He tried not to let that stop him, but when another hit connected with the back of his skull, he slipped into the darkness that was beckoning for him.


"What do you mean he's gone!?" Tony shouted at Clint and Natasha. It was sometime around six in the morning, and Tony was mad.

Mad because he couldn't sleep in like he desperately needed and wanted to, and mad because Natasha and Clint had just informed him that their beloved Captain was missing.

"He's freakin' Captain America! He can't just go missing randomly! He's not like some, some sock or something!" Clint raised an eyebrow at Tony, who just groaned and plopped down onto the couch behind him. "Hey, I'm tired. Give me a break, I can't be brilliant all the time." He muttered and Clint just rolled his eyes.

"Listen, Tony," Natasha began, obviously unfazed by his actions. "He's always up at this time and he wasn't this morning-"

"He could be sleeping in, ya' know, that was a tough mission; even for a Super-Soldier." Tony cut in and ignored Natasha's death glare.

"And when we tried to get into his room to make sure he was okay, since he does seem to have a tendency to lie about his injuries," Natasha said and Tony huffed. That was definitely something Steve was known for.

Once he had somehow managed to get shot in his upper shoulder, and had somehow played it off as if it was just some scrape; how nobody had noticed was still a mystery to Tony.

But the Avengers had noticed blood seeping through his jacket on his shoulder, and before long Steve had passed out from blood loss.

Tony shook his head at the memory; Steve had scared them all so bad with that, he acted like he was invincible, like he could take anything.

But the problem is, they had all bought it, and still sometimes struggled to believe the guy could actually get hurt.

"And I ended up having to pick the lock, only to find that he wasn't in the room. So, we asked J.A.R.V.I.S where he was, and he said that he had left the Tower at exactly 2:07 this morning." Anger boiled somewhere deep down in Tony at his supposedly trustworthy A.I.

"Why on earth would he leave the Tower at 2:07? And just why the heck did you not tell us about, J.A.R.V.I.S?" Tony directed up towards the ceiling.

"I am sorry, Sir," If an A.I could possibly sound guilty, J.A.R.V.I.S did. Tony huffed in annoyance. Good. It served him right.

"J.A.R.V.I.S, why did Steve leave the Tower at such an early time?" Bruce asked from his position on the bar stool in the kitchen.

"I believe it was from a nightmare. He appeared to be in emotional and slight physical distress when he ran out." Tony groaned and laid his head back on the couch.

"If I could ground you, I so would," Tony muttered.

"What kind of physical distress, J.A.R.V.I.S?" Bruce asked, appearing undeterred by Tony interrupting.

"A panic attack, Sir." J.A.R.V.I.S said, and Tony's head shot up so fast, he brought a hand up to his neck to relieve himself of the shooting pain there. He grimaced before speaking.

"A panic attack? Steve was having a panic attack!?" Tony asked, knowing full well how horrible those things were.

"Yes, Sir," The A.I. responded hesitantly.

"I don't know why I even bother," Tony said before getting up and walking over to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of coffee. He immediately winced as the horrible flavor met his tongue. He gulped and set the mug down on the counter harshly.

"Gross. Who made that?" He asked, glancing over every member until he saw Clint holding his hand up guiltily. Tony shook his head and mumbled something.

"Hey! Steve's the one who usually makes it, don't blame me." Clint defended.

"Speaking of him," Natasha interrupted their glaring contest by fixing them up with one of her own. They both cowered away, still pouting in frustration; even though it was just from Steve being gone. "We still don't know where he is."

"Maybe he's on his motorcycle," Bruce suggested and Natasha shook her head lightly.

"No, his motorcycle is still in the garage." She replied with.

"Maybe he-" Clint started saying, but was interrupted by J.A.R.V.I.S.

"Yes, J.A.R.V.I.S?" Tony asked, annoyed.

"I believe you should see this. It explains the Captain's whereabouts," Tony raised a brow and shot a glance towards the others, before telling J.A.R.V.I.S to turn on the TV and show them.

Static was shown, before they could both see a dark room with a small light on somewhere. Clint and Natasha simultaneously leaned in closer to the camera, as if it would bring them closer.

Suddenly, another light flicked on, and several gasps echoed each other throughout the room. The light revealed Steve in a chair, head drooping down to his chest, arms chained to two poles beside him, and the top half of his uniform appeared to be gone.

There were several fresh cuts across his arms and chest; some deep, some shallow. Steve appeared to be unconscious, also.

Suddenly, a masked man walked in front of the camera, obscuring their view of Steve.

Tony's hand instinctively clenched into a fist, while he could see Bruce's eyes tinge green, along with Clint and Natasha standing straighter.

"Who the hell are you!?" Tony demanded, but the figure merely laughed.

"That you shall not find out." He said, and they could all practically see the smirk behind the mask.

"Who are you and what are you doing with Steve?" Natasha asked, calm and cool, but her eyes told of a different emotion. The guy waved his hand impassively and shrugged.

"I am not here to mingle," He said with a hint of a British accent. "I am here for business. If you want your precious Captain back, then you will pay a fine. Understood?" He asked, as if he was talking to a child.

"I think Captain America is worth at least two billion dollars, right?" He asked with a slight cock of his head.

"So this is some sort of ransom?" Clint asked, arms crossed and glare unwavering.

"You are correct, Hawkeye. The spot where I wish for you to drop the money off is located at the harbor, where a small boat is waiting. It will be empty, but I hope you know not to bring anyone along, Stark. Any S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and Avenger, or anyone else, and I will personally kill Captain America." The man said with another undeniable smirk.

"Oh, and just to make sure you understand how serious I am about this; every hour that you do not deliver, I'm afraid things are going to have to get, well, sort of, unpleasant for the Captain." He spoke, voice menacingly low.

He then snapped his fingers, and another person wearing a mask could be seen pushing a metal table next to Steve.

Tony's eyes widened in horror at the items are the table. It had several different size knives on it and a gun. The guy walked over to the table and picked up one of the long knives and examined it a moment.

"No..." Tony whispered. The guy looked up at the screen once more, before turning around and shoving the knife into Steve's thigh. Steve jerked awake and yanked back, sonly to suddenly be electrocuted.

"No!" Clint yelled as he slammed his hands down on the table.

"Steve!" Natasha yelled out, losing her composure only for a moment. Steve's jerking stopped after a little bit, and his body went still, except for the heavy, labored breathing. His chest rose and fell back down again shakily. The guy turned back around to face the camera, and shrugged.

"Ah, did I forget to tell you that whenever he moves his arms he'll be electrocuted by these two poles?" He asked in fake sympathy. "Oops." Tony glared at the man, before looking over at Steve who was weakly shaking his head and trying to focus on something.

Anything.

Tony tried not to let his gaze go down to the knife, but couldn't stop himself from doing so. He could see all of the blood just pouring out and turning his blue uniform a deep shade of purple.

Steve blinked a few times and looked up at the man beside him. His face immediately went neutral and his eyes contained a hint of a glare, as if he had just realized what was happening.

He straightened, but immediately clenched his teeth, the act of moving looking like it cost him greatly. The look Steve was giving the man would have made any other man cower and hide, but this man just laughed maliciously.

"Who are you?" Steve asked, voice low and slightly raspy. It wasn't until then that they all noticed the fresh blood slowly streaming down his neck from the back of his head.

Tony shot a glance at the others, who looked like they had just noticed it, too. The guy shook his head disapprovingly.

"What is with the Avengers and all these questions?" He muttered in a jest tone. "You do not care who I am. What you should care about is your fellow teammates," He said, and Steve immediately stiffened.

The guy gestured up to the screen, and Steve's gaze slowly followed, until it landed on his teammates.

His posture slowly relaxed when he realized his teammates were safe. "Now, back to business; I need to make sure that you know just how serious I am." The guy said, voice dripping with poison; he picked up the knife and twirled it in his fingers before shoving it into Steve's side.

Steve jerked again, and his teeth clenched as a wave of electricity went through him.

He closed his eyes, and before he could even catch his breath, the guy shoved another knife into his other thigh.

Steve did his best not to move as the guy took a different knife and slowly ran it along Steve's arm, drawing blood as he pushed down on it harder; breaking the skin, covering his arm in crimson.

Steve could faintly hear his teammates, mainly Tony, yelling obscenities at his captor, but couldn't really hear anything over the ringing in his ears.

The knife was lifted off of his skin, but Steve knew there was more to come; he just didn't know how much and how bad.

Why did the guy want just him?

Was it because he was the Leader? Or was it because of something else?

Steve wasn't sure about that, but his guess was correct about one thing; he could feel the knife slide across his chest, breaking the skin and drawing even more blood.

He felt three tremendous pains in his thighs and stomach, and several much smaller ones over his chest and arms. He swallowed hard, trying not to move, knowing what'll happen if he does.

After a while, the pain ceased and he opened his eyes. His vision was still sightly blurred from what he guessed was a concussion.

He could feel a wet and sticky substance on his neck from an unbearable pain in the back of his head, but tried to ignore that as he blinked.

His vision slowly came back, and he could hear heavy breathing; which he realized was coming from himself.

He looked up at the screen and saw his teammates all glaring at the masked man next to him. He feebly looked up at the guy also, wondering why the heck he was so weak.

He was tempted to try and break the chains on his wrists, but was afraid of what would happen with the electricity.

Apparently, his teammates and the guy had been talking the whole time and he just hadn't realized it.

"So," The guy was saying, "I guess that proves how serious I am. Now," He paused and glanced at the table once before focusing on the camera again. "Get to work Avengers." He said before the screen went black. He turned his attention to Steve; who was slowly drifting back into unconsciousness.

But he blinked back the heavy cloud over his eyes, and managed to focus on a tall figure next to him.

"W-what do you want with m-me?" Steve asked, voice slurring heavily, yet unwillingly. A dull throb was pounding in the back of his head, and he could only guess there was something seriously wrong.

His movements, as little as they were, were sluggish, his mind was foggy, and his memory had proven to be awful at the moment.

And for some odd reason, he couldn't feel his right leg, or even his right arm.

It was almost like his whole, not entirely, because he could still move the top part of his arm and above, right side was numb.

"A ransom. What else?" The guy asked matter-of-factly, and he probably was talking normally, but to Steve he was screaming with a couple of the words. His vision was fuzzy, also.

Yup, something was definitely wrong.

"Little do your teammates know that I have a different plan in progress." The guy said smugly as he walked over to the table with knives and picked one up; examining it with his back to Steve.

"W-what plan?" Steve asked, consciousness slowly drifting away. The guy chuckled evilly; never bothering to turn around to face him as he spoke.

"My plan to take out the Avengers, of course." He began, "You see, I don't really want that ransom money, all though I'll admit, it will be a nice addition to this whole thing. But no, that's not it. You see, when Stark comes to bring the ransom money, my assistant will shoot him."

Steve tensed up immediately, but could feel his body start slumping again right afterwards.

Tony wouldn't see it coming, and there was no way Steve could warn him. He only hoped that Tony would wear his Iron Man suit.

"And then when the rest of the Avengers come swooping in to save the day and blah, blah, blah," The guy said in an annoyed tone, waving the knife around carelessly.

"We will be waiting for them, ready to take them out. And then what comes next is my favorite part; you will be killed. But it will be no ordinary death, it will be slow and painful and I will make you beg for death. You will be at my mercy, and though you shall beg, I shall not give it to you. Fun, right?" The guy asked menacingly.

Steve huffed, much more confident than he should be, yet with his fight with trying to stay conscious waning, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

"H-how c-could you p-possibly believe t-that you could d-defeat the Avengers?" Steve asked, head slowly drooping down to his chest. "T-there's no w-way you're nearly t-that powerful. You only a-act t-that w-way." He paused to take a shaky breath in to continue.

"If i-it wasn't f-for your f-friend, y-you would have n-never have c-caught m-me." He stuttered, and those last few words must have definitely struck a nerve. The guy spun around and pointed his knife at Steve.

"I am too powerful! I don't need some lame assistant who does nothing to take down you Avengers! I will defeat you personally!" He shouted, but still, Steve managed to smile dazedly as his eyelids began to shut.

"A-and what makes you s-so sure you can defeat t-them? A g-god, a-and a whole r-race of aliens t-tried, but f-failed. You'll do t-the s-same," His eyes grew heavy and he could feel himself falling back into that pit of darkness, but not before the man next to him regained his composure and chuckled sickly.

"You have no idea what I am capable of, Captain America." The guy said, and the last thing Steve heard was a knife being sharpened before he plunged into darkness.


Ta-da! A cliffie! :D Well, sort of... I don't know. Anyway, some how I always end up torturing poor Stevie in my stories. Like, seriously, in every single one! Oh well...

But I seriously don't know how this happened. It strayed a fair ways away from where I intended. I don't know why, but the villains in my story always seem to have that cliche sort of personality. Eh, I don't know.