Hello! A lot of people asked me to do this, I know it's been done, but here it is. You can read A changed Man, it goes with it, but you don't have to, let's just say that it's from Fury's point fo view there, and this one will be the other Avengers.

If you wnat me to do something else, or write challenges, send them to me!

Disclaimer: Avengers and IM3 aren't mine!

Steve

Steve parked his bike in front of the grocery store that sat quite lonely in the middle of the small town he was in. He got down and looked around, wondering where he should go. The week before, he had asked Fury for some downtime because Christmas was coming and he just wanted to spend time outside of SHIELD for this time of the year. The director had reluctantly agreed, telling him to stay within touch.

Steve wasn't about to be picky about it. So there he was two days before Christmas in a small town not far from New York in Pennsylvania. He didn't know exactly why he came there, he just wanted some time away from the big city that was New York.

Christmas' decorations shone everywhere around him and old snow was lying on the sidewalks. Evening had fallen and the moon was up somewhere behind the masses of dark clouds. Steve wouldn't be surprised if it snowed again.

Clenching his jacket around him more tightly, he walked to the small bar on the other side of the street, wanting to ask where he could find a motel not far from here.

The moment he pushed the door open, he was assaulted by the smell of alcohol and smoke. Loud voices, obnoxious laughter attacked his ears painfully and he winced. His gaze moved around, noticing the crowded tables, the probably sticky bar and the shady already drunk men sitting there. He wrinkled his nose a bit in disgust, wishing not for the first time his senses weren't so heightened.

Unfortunately he would have to stay long enough to figure out where he could find a motel. And so he moved to the bar and sat on one of the empty stools. The barman came to him and raised an eyebrow, putting both his hands on the bar.

"I would like…" His voice trailed off as his eyes caught sight of the photo of a man he met a few months back and would not quite call a friend, but was definitively more than an acquaintance. Tony Stark.

The barman followed his gaze to look at the TV screen on which the image was displayed. He turned back to him, dark brown eyes curious. "You interested, man?"

"Did something happen?" Steve wondered, looking at the screen where he now could see Stark facing a phone and talking, ignoring all the cameras, micros around him, the flashes, the crowd, pushing in on him, into his personal space without caring it seemed about his intimacy and space, freedom. It wasn't the first time he saw Stark with the press on TV, but he was still amazed at how much he could ignore how deliberately obnoxious and pushing they could be.

"He threatened the Mandarin. Want me to turn the sound on?" Steve nodded and focused on the TV and nothing else, blocking all the sounds around. If earlier he wished for normal hearing, now he was quite glad for the one he had.

"… good old-fashioned revenge." God, Stark, you didn't just threaten a highly wanted terrorist? Steve wondered. His first dislike of the man and now simple mutual respect that may – could – turn into more if they tried (though he doubted they could ever get along on everything, being so different and having opposite views on some things) didn't mean he didn't care about the man. And this… He wasn't even surprised Stark had threatened a terrorist but he was seriously starting to doubt his sanity.

"10880 Malibu Point."

"The man's crazy." The barman snorted. Steve licked his lips slowly, unable to disagree here. It was one thing to threaten a terrorist, but to personally give him his address? It was asking for it.

Stark was smart, if not the smartest man Steve had met, but he was also impulsive, reckless and he never thought his actions out completely. We need a plan of attack – I have a plan. We attack. He truly hoped this time wasn't one of those.

"This was taken earlier today, but it seemed the Mandarin didn't appreciate the threat and chose to prove it to everyone." A woman with brown hair, put in a neatly bun, blue eyes wide and sparkling, said into her microphone, facing the camera. Steve frowned at the debris and dust behind her. There were people – firemen, policemen – walking behind her, moving quickly. The camera moved to the side to show a woman Steve instantly recognized as Stark's girlfriend (he'd seen her briefly before making apparitions at press conferences or other things). She was distraught and looking around, ignoring the men trying to talk to her.

"Hell, where are they?" The barman wondered. People had gathered around them to look at the TV too, all wanting to know what was going on. Steve felt dread curling in his stomach, and knew something very wrong had happened. Yet he couldn't look away from the screen.

The woman suddenly grabbed something from the ground and Steve caught his breath, recognizing it immediately. Iron Man's helmet.

"Is that Iron Man's head?" Someone asked behind him.

"Earlier today, the Mandarin reposted at Stark's threat, here are the images."

The image snapped from Stark's girlfriend – Potts – holding the Iron Man's helmet close to her to an overview of a breathtaking mansion half-hanging on a cliff. Someone whistled – maybe more than one person actually. The feeling of dread intensified as he thought back to the ruins behind the reporter. No, no, no.

And then the missiles arrived and stroke the house, destroying, smashing it to bits. Steve was relieved when he saw the piano flying to hit a helicopter, destroying it completely as it fell to the water. Stark was still alive in there. Iron Man was still alive. But it wasn't finished just yet because more missiles hit the house, followed by bullets fired by one of the helicopter.

"Why is he not flying?" One man wondered. And Steve thought the same thing. Stark always flew around inside his suit so why wasn't he flying out of there? There may be something they couldn't see, something they didn't know. Could something have happened to the suit, damaging it to prevent it from flying?

The second helicopter was hit and… fell in the direction of the mansion. In Stark's direction.

Steve's fists clenched as his already quick breathing stuttered. The man had survived flying a nuke into space, he had to survive this. He couldn't die after… It would be so wrong.

Two missiles hit the house again and half the house fell this time. Steve saw, thanks to his enhanced sight, Iron Man, Stark hanging from one of the bigger pieces of concrete, falling, falling into the water, crashing, going under. "Stark, come on," he whispered frenetically, watching, waiting with baited breath for Stark to fly out of the ocean. Another piece of concrete fell in the water and still no sign of Stark. He couldn't be possibly dead.

The helicopter flew away and a zoom-in on the destroyed house showed Potts running in the ruins to look for Stark. She was safe. It was at least a relief.

But Stark had disappeared.

The images were back on the reporter and Steve noticed everyone was strangely silent, empty disbelieving eyes looking at the screen. "Hours later, there is still no sign of Tony Stark and no body had been found yet in the water below. It is assumed the engineer genius, also known as Iron Man, is dead."

Steve stood up abruptly and walked out of the bar, ignoring the exclamations that followed him as he pushed the people in his way. He needed to get out, to breathe. He needed air, he needed…

He needed to call Fury.

Vacation's over.

He was going to go to Malibu and looked for that idiot of a billionaire himself and gave him a piece of his mind. He wouldn't believe he was dead until he saw the cold and lifeless body of Tony Stark in front of him.

He got on his bike and started it up. With one direction in mind.

10880 Malibu Point.

So here's Steve. What do you think?

AngelShep