Steve Rogers was dead.
Not in the 'this is what the papers need to report' way, not in the 'frozen in ice for a few decades' way.
In the honest to goodness, six feet in the ground, cold corpse, final farewell way.
And it was all Tony's fault.
Personal failure was not something he'd ever been able to accept, even in private. But this had been public-at least, if anyone put the pieces together.
It had been a routine mission, if you could call any of them that. Bad guys from space want to take over the Earth, Avengers can't let them.
They weren't supposed to be important. They were nobodies. The Chitauri had been more of a threat. This was just a fluke.
But it was Tony's fault.
He and Steve had been fighting before they'd gotten the alarm. Over something stupid, probably; all Tony could remember was being mad and bitching. Passive aggressive statements, throwing his wit around and being all high and mighty. The morning was all a blur, like time stood still any time he tried to bring it back to memory. Everything was muddled and distorted.
And Steve was dead.
Tony was supposed to have his back. Natasha and Clint had been tasked with sneaking into the spaceship's mainframe and disrupting their console. SHIELD had made sure they had enough sneaky little pieces of technology that it should have been a breeze, and even if the magnetic waves hadn't been enough, Clint had made it clear that he was fine with smashing it to pieces anyway.
If he didn't, Thor was happy to.
The spaceship was large enough that they couldn't maneuver fancy tactics; their size was their greatest weapon. Well, that and the seemingly infinite number of cannons and lasers fixed on the hull of the ship but at close range those weren't so much of a problem. Thor was making quick work of them, but it had been Tony's job to keep an eye on Steve.
Like he needed protection or something. Like he wasn't a super soldier. Like he hadn't been through as much as they had.
Tony had given him a ride up to the ship and dropped him carelessly on the deck. He hadn't been taking this seriously from the beginning-but again. A single oversized spaceship and aliens that looked like some ugly mole-moth hybrid? They barely went up to Tony's shoulder.
They were nothing.
And they were the reason dozens of people were sitting in folding chairs in the middle of a chilly November day, listening to some Priest droll on about the meaning of life.
Natasha was gorgeous, in a black dress so tight he couldn't figure out where she was hiding her guns. Uncharacteristically, he hadn't looked. Clint had cleaned up. You almost couldn't tell he had three broken ribs and brand new piece of metal to keep his knee together.
Thor was wearing a suit and looked like he was about to burst from the seams. Tony didn't know who had convinced him to wear a suit or if he had just been to enough funerals on Earth that he decided he didn't want to stick out in his battle armor. Not that Thor would ever not stick out. He stood a head over half the crowd.
Tony was a mess. He hadn't shaved, there were bags under his eyes, and he smelled of alcohol. Aside from a few burns, Tony was fine. He didn't deserve to be, but he was. His suit was crumpled and he'd gotten into another fight with Pepper this morning. She was here, a few rows away. She was too angry to sit with him.
He deserved it.
When they'd been fighting, he had gotten cocky. He was more distracted with nitpicking Steve, chewing him out, trying to piss him off. Whatever he'd been doing. The aliens had swarmed the deck but Steve was taking care of them, effortlessly swinging his shield around. He'd taken all of Tony's jibes and remained focused on the task.
Tony just got pissed and ignored him. Shoved him so far from his mind that he'd forgotten he was there.
The ship had fired a barrage of cannons-tracking missiles, heat sensitive, right for him. Tony had been frustrated, distracted. He'd been hit twice and it was impulsive to just get them off his trail. He'd fired one of his own to get them of his trail.
The plan had worked; the missiles followed the superheated flare he sent out. Only, he'd neglected to look behind him and instead assumed he'd shot into empty space. He hadn't accounted for the fact that the spaceship was rapidly losing altitude thanks to the damage they'd done to their systems.
He'd sent the flare right towards Steve Rogers.
He realized it a split second before it had happened; Tony jerked his head.
He locked eyes with Steve. He watched the light explode in Steve's eyes. He watched Steve try to pull up his shield to deflect it.
Fire ruptured the ship's exterior, blowing panels and bodies everywhere. Tony's thrusters were on full speed, charging right into the fire and smoke. The air propelled him backwards and he could feel the heat through his suit.
A flash of red, white and blue went over the other side.
Back then, Tony had been hopeful that he could still make this right. Steve was probably conscious, judging by the way his body twisted in the air. He'd be sore, but he'd be fine. Like always, right?
Tony was blinded by his target. They were plummeting towards the ground at an alarming speed but Tony was still convinced he had everything under control. Steve's eyes were closed-not from fear, certainly. Not because he was unconscious or anything. Probably just because the air stung his eyes.
That was as good of an excuse as any.
Tony was fifteen feet from Steve when the first piece of paneling slammed into him from behind. The flaming metal immediately crushed his armor and his rockets shut off. He lost control of his flight.
Ten feet from Steve, though.
The ground was coming up, fast, but Tony was still focused on him. He reached out his hand and thought he could almost reach him. His systems picked up for a second.
Five feet.
Three feet. He reached Steve's hand.
They crashed into the ground together.
A cold shiver ran down Tony's spine. He hadn't heard a damn thing the priest said. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, anyway. They were in a cemetery. The smell of fresh dirt was the most offensive thing Tony had ever smelled. He preferred the smell of burning flesh and rubber, even, and that was a smell that had been haunting him ever since he'd woken up, semi-conscious beneath a pile of rubble.
He thought Thor had pulled him out; he was the strongest of all of them. Bruce hadn't been there, he had stayed at the lab and was feeding them reports of the attack. Not like Bruce-or his big green friend-would have been capable of such deliberate strength.
Thor definitely must have pulled them out, Tony decided, thinking that's why the larger man was seated solemnly next to him.
A layer of dark grey clouds hid the sun from view, but Tony was still wearing his sunglasses. He knew he looked like shit; he didn't need people to remind him by pointing out his red eyes and dark circles. A cold wind blew. Tony could smell the rain.
He stared at a single point in the sky, just over the priest. Just over the casket. It was closed, for obvious reasons.
Even super soldiers weren't flame retardant, it seemed. Maybe nobody wanted to look at him and think of Red Skull.
Of course, they'd tried to save him.
But falling from that height? After that explosion?
They tried. They failed.
But none had failed so much as Tony.
No one had deliberately said it was his fault, but he knew they all had to know. He had barely spoken to any of them, and even if it had been because he locked himself in his lab, he knew.
It was his fault. Steve Roger's blood was on his hands.
He had taken their leader from them. Not that Tony would have ever really admitted it, but that's what Steve had been. Their shining star, their golden sun. The goodness that had held them all together. All their broken pieces were made whole when he was around. All their mistakes were hidden by his bright light.
And Tony had killed him.
He was oblivious to the movement around him. He remained seated for a few moments even after the casket had been lowered, even after people had begun to leave. It was only when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder that he looked up and realized the funeral must have been over.
The rest of the Avengers was nowhere to be seen, but there was Thor, brows knit and lips pursed into a straight line. He was solemn and worn, wearing an expression that seemed unbefitting for the usually delighted Asgardian.
He needed no words to get his point across.
Tony played it off and cracked a grin. "What, you think I fell asleep or something?"
Thor did not return his grin. He would not have, even if he hadn't been able to tell a broken, forced smile on his friends face.
"The others are leaving," he informed instead. "We should be with them."
Tony's grin faltered only slightly. He couldn't imagine spending more time with people that knew this was his fault. People that would see him and think of everything he'd taken from them. "...I don't think so," he said after a moment. "I should really get home. I've got some things to work on."
Thor's grip tightened and Tony found that he couldn't push himself up.
Thor then, must have been ready to tell Tony this was all his fault. He braced himself for it. Hell, maybe Thor would even give him a good whack with that hammer of his, put him out of his misery.
There was no hammer, and as soon as he stopped trying to get up, Thor loosened his grip. Did not remove his hand, Tony noted, but loosened his grip.
"We should be with them," he repeated.
Tony could take a hint. Thor wasn't exactly Mr. Subtle.
"...Look," Tony began, wondering if there was some way he could worm his way out of this. It wasn't that he didn't want to grieve, it wasn't that he wasn't taking this seriously. It was just, Tony couldn't accept failure. He couldn't concentrate on anything. There was a bottle of scotch-or twelve-waiting for him at home.
Talking with his friends, eating, talking about Steve, that wasn't going to help. The only thing that would help was forgetting or fixing, and Tony didn't think any amount of research would bring back the dead or go back in time.
He licked his lips and continued, "Look, Thor, I just…"
"I know what it is like to lose a brother," Thor interrupted.
Tony froze. Steve was not actually what he would have considered a brother, but they had a bond. Outside of Howard Stark, of course. Steve and Tony had fought, often. They butted heads and were, in many ways, complete opposites. But they worked well together, when they chose to. Perhaps Thor had seen their bickering and compared it to him with his brother. Perhaps he had seen them in combat enough to know that each other's strengths balanced out their weaknesses. Perhaps, the only difference was that there wasn't an evil brother in the mix.
Loki wasn't dead, of course. Just imprisoned on Asgard.
Which might as well be dead for all that Tony had heard of it.
He had not, however, heard Thor talk of Loki in some time. His gaze lifted to meet Thor's, silently imploring him to continue.
Thor obliged. "The pain will not go away if you ignore it. It will leave a hole in you. But you can fill it."
"Oh?" Tony prompted, almost purely to humor the man.
Thor nodded. "Fill it with what happiness you can find. You have good friends. They will help. You cannot dwell on the dead. Know that he died a warrior, and warriors are always rewarded. In Valhalla-"
"We don't have a Valhalla," Tony shot back suddenly. There were no great halls. Maybe there, in his realm, but not here. Dead was dead. "We have this-this life, and that's it. The end," he shot back bitterly.
Thor was not taken aback; instead, he lifted his head. "You are angry," he noted.
Tony resisted the urge to say, 'Well, fucking, duh,' for many reasons.
"I do not believe friend Steve is gone, forever. He was a warrior befitting our Halls. He will be rewarded in death."
"Not really any way to check that theory, is there?" Tony asked bitterly. If there was an afterlife, he'd have thought someone would have found it by now. He wasn't one to trust blind faith. He couldn't console himself so easily.
Thor shrugged; his faith was not blind, but he could travel to other realms. He could venture to Hel to reclaim a lost soul if he really desired. Not here, on Earth. Of course, Asgard had many things Earth didn't have. Life after death was a nice perk. And Thor had told stories of healers that could bring back the dead.
...And Artifacts that held untold wonder.
Tony was silent for a second, mind ticking. Things Thor couldn't use, for one reason or another. Things Odin would keep banished from Earth, lest they fall into the wrong hands.
Things that could fix Steve, probably, if only Tony could get to them.
Tony cleared his throat suddenly, mind working quicker than it had since he'd heard of Steve's death. Even through the haze of grief and alcohol, gears were turning. "...I'm sorry, Thor," he said abruptly. "I just can't get it out of my head. All of this. It's driving me crazy. I feel like the walls are closing in. I can't clear my head.
Everything around me is…" He lifted a hand to his temple and held his head. "...You've got the whole universe to clear your thoughts. I've got this one little place. I can't get a moment of quiet. I'm lashing out at people and I don't want to hurt them. I need to get out of here."
Thor's expression softened and Tony found himself encouraged. "Do you really think there's a place out there, where warriors go? Even from Earth?"
Thor nodded. "I do."
And Thor fell for it. He fell for Tony's hitched breathing, his desperate words, and he offered, "Perhaps it would ease you to see with your own eyes?"
Tony pretended to consider it and nodded slowly. "I don't know. Perhaps."
He was better at hiding his emotions than Thor was, and found himself grateful that Thor was oblivious to the mad desperation broiling in his stomach, consuming his mind.
Thor nodded. "Let us partake in the feast to honor our friend. You will return to Asgard with me."
He clasped Tony's shoulder once more, reassuring, before pulling him to his feet.
Tony had no appetite, but he allowed it, and even offered a slightly more convincing smile for his friend. The sunglasses still hid the emptiness in his eyes.
Tony had hated himself long before this, but Steve Roger's death was too much for him.
He didn't want to use Thor, but they'd understand, in the end. He'd make this right.
No matter what it took.