It's funny, how times works.

A single moment, usually flickering past in an instant, can instead seem to last forever. Every last detail seared into memory, able to be recalled later as if you were still there, back in that very second.

Tony lie on the ground, feeling the suit pressing into the back of his neck. The frigid Siberian air stung his face, bared to the cold as his mask was ripped away and tossed aside. He could smell the metal and smoke in the air, the remnants of the repulsor blasts hitting Cap's shield and Bucky's arm.

He could taste the blood dripping into his mouth, the sweat from his brow stinging his eyes. He could hear the heaving breathes, coming from both him and Steve, the exertion of the day weighing heavily on them both.

He could see the shield, the beacon of hope for so many people, poised above him, ready to strike. The image was burned into his brain, the red, white, and blue hanging above him. He saw Steve's face, as bloodied as his own, a mixture of focus, anger, and regret etched into his features. Tony knew the same look was probably mirrored on his own face.

It's funny, how times works.

Just as it can slow, it can speed up just as fast. While a single moment can be memorized for eternity, the next can hold a lifetime's worth of thoughts.

In the briefest time, the shield beginning to come down on him, Tony's mind blurred with a myriad of observations. This was it, he was about to die. This was how it ended for him, at the hands of a friend. How had they gotten to this point? Where had they gone wrong? His parents. How had Steve kept that from him? How would he ever move past that? What did it matter if this was the end?

His eyes closed, flinching from the incoming blow. Hands thrown up, an attempt to ward off the inevitable strike, knowing it wouldn't help, but unable to not. He could feel the shift in the air, the shift of Steve's weight over him.

It's funny, how time works.

Suddenly, it's over. Time marches on as it always has, neither too fast or too slow. One second melds into the next as it always has. Tony's eyes open, his brain registering the pain, the pressure, in his chest. His arc reactor flickers briefly around the vibranium lodged in its middle before going dark.

Relief flows through him first, followed by disappointment, anger, despair, as he watches Steve grab Bucky and leave. Tony sits up weakly, unable to follow, to stop them, the fight gone from his body, if not from his mind. Left alone in the silence, he has nothing to do but wait. Wait to make it back home, wait for the fallout of his failure, wait to see what becomes of the Avengers, of the world.