Title: Damaged

Summary: Five one-shots of life trying to take down Steve Rogers and his new-found friends helping him.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warnings: Any and everything is a possibility in this one.

Chapter One: Tired

Steve Rogers was dead.

He died almost seventy years ago, crashing a plane into the Atlantic, and they had pulled Captain America out of the icy water, thawed him out, and used the super soldier to help with the fight against the Chitauri. Steve Rogers, however, died all those decades ago, leaving a perfect soldier in his place. He could argue that was why he had lashed out at Tony Stark on the helicarrier; snapped at the childish son of a friend that he had seen not too long ago but had been dead for many years. He was wounded and lashing out, trying to deal with the sudden change of the world around him. It was a weak front and he knew it.

Captain America was supposed to stand for all the things that were righteous and needed protection in the world. He was not supposed to pick petty fights with his teammates and goad them into a fight.

But that was what he had done.

The truth of the matter was that Captain America was in a bad place; he spent his night reliving all that he had lost, pondering why he had stayed alive far longer than doctors had ever predicted while his better and friends - Peggy, Bucky, Howard... - had all died. Most nights, as he destroyed punching bag after punching bag, he thought of Bucky and damn if that did not tear him open and leave his soul to bleed across the floor of the training room.

So he clung to the first chance that came to knock someone off of their high horse and down to his level; he took it when the chance presented itself. And it felt good. After they had teamed together, Tony had shook his hand amicably and said that it was all water under the bridge, that everything was fine between them and there were bigger things to deal with.

After fighting against the Chitauri and witnessing Stark sacrificing himself for the greater good, Captain America felt absolutely crummy. How far had he sunk to have judged someone based upon a few minutes of knowing them? He was no better than all of those bullies that he had stood up against all those years ago. How far the mighty had fallen, indeed.

In most ways, the Captain still felt like he was the scrawny blonde from Brooklyn that was repeatedly rejected from the Army. As he stared down at his shawarma, his stomach revolted at the sight of the greasy meat and pita. He could hear the crinkling of flimsy napkins clearly as Tony wiped his mouth directly across from him. He held his head in his hands, wondering why he had provoked a fight with someone who was the only tie, albeit thin and razor sharp, that he still had to a time long forgotten by many. Tony had blamed it on Loki's scepter and while that may have been true in the brunette's case, Captain America knew better. He wanted to take Howard Stark's son down and prove to him that he was not living up to his expectations.

And, honestly, who was he to make goals for the last of the Stark's lineage?

He had no right to judge him and his words were cruel and against the brunette's character. Stark was certainly right when he had assessed that everything special about him came from a test tube. Without the serum, he was a weak boy of a man that did not know when to pack it in and admit defeat. While that was a good thing in the middle of a battle, it had proven to be his downfall in real life and the soldier never felt more alone than his did as he sat at the crowded table of Avengers.

What would Bucky have said if he could see him now?

"Hey, what's wrong with the Capsicle?" Tony muttered, the super soldier could still hear his soft voice over the crinkling of napkins all over again.

"Indoor voice, Thor," Natasha reminded sharply. Even her voice sounded weary after the battle and he could not blame her. The cut on his arm itched as it healed but his chest still hurt from his landing on that car and hitting the ground after being shot. His stomach was still bleeding freely and the blonde soldier swallowed at the sudden burst of pain that the movement brought forth. His stomach felt empty and the soldier knew that he had to eat; his body required almost constant food after Project Rebirth but he was used to going hungry his entire life so he promptly dealt with the vacant rolling in the pit of his stomach, ignoring the longing call of the shawarma instead for the guilt that was steadfastly consuming his every thought.

Tony had said that they were fine and maybe that meant that the brunette could easily brush aside the hurtful attacks on his person but Captain America knew that he had the make things right between them. He would not feel right working with other man until he was able to redeem himself and felt better about looking like a downright jerk. It would take a while, but Bucky always said that he was a stubborn son of a gun. If there was ever a time to prove that right, it was right here and now. "Our Captain was felled by a shot to his flank earlier in the throes of battle but I do not belie that he was wounded before then."

"Woah, what?" Tony cut in but Captain America refused to look at him, instead focusing solely on the table as he tried to will away the rolling pain in his side as he swallowed back nausea and hunger. "You didn't say anything about that, Sailor Mars!"

"Sailor Mars? Seriously?" There was definite humor in Clint's voice: "When was I suddenly demoted from a kick-ass elf to a children's cartoon; a girl cartoon at that?"

"Are you saying that there's something wrong with having a pair of ovaries instead of testicles, Hawk?" Natasha hissed and even without looking up, the blonde could tell from the change in the air around them that the archer was a sitting duck if he did not smooth over that misstep fast.

"No, no! Just wondering why I became a kid's show, is all!"

"Kid's?" Tony snorted as he grinned. "Have you seen the show? It's practically porn; girls running around in short skirts-"

"Can we please get back to the matter at hand, dirty cartoons aside?" Bruce interjected. "Something happened to Cap?"

"Verily," the demigod said solemnly, his deep voice soothing the blonde's weary body and lulling him into a sense of security. "I have witness him taking a hit to his abdominals when we fought together in the streets."

"Blade or gun?" Natasha asked, her voice ever the calm mask over whatever emotions that she had bundled up. At least, the Captain was assuming that she kept them bundled up; he had only seen her looking bored or blank in the face even though he could tell that she was waiting for something to happen, be it amusing or bloody, he could not tell the difference and figured that was how she liked it.

"Gun."

"Fuck. He healed, right? I mean, Dad's notes and Fury's files were very vague on what he could withstand. I didn't even bother with SHIELD's when I can hack my way straight to-"

"He's stopped listening. Blood or no, Big Boom?" As he began to drift off, Steve could not help but make the comparison between Clint's worried and joking tones to Bucky's. They acted similarly to one another where it counted and that could have seen a large reason as to why-

The super soldier's last thoughts were cut off when a sudden burst of pain shot up his side. His eyes screwed shut at the intense burning sensation, his muscles contracting and straining as he tried to curl around the source of the ache that tore at his insides. He grit his teeth together to keep from making a sound, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to himself. The blonde could hear his team snapping into action around him and for a brief moment, he believed that Loki had gotten free from him bindings just outside of the shawarma shop. Opening his eyes proved more difficult that he could ever remember it being but it gave him the vantage of seeing what had happened.

Tony was screaming into a clear piece of what looked like glass and the Captain could only assume that it was meant to be one of those intelligent phones that everyone seemed to covet nowadays. Thor was instantly by his side while the two SHIELD Agents were standing away from the table, both of them watching him with unreadable expressions on their faces. He almost forgot about Doctor Banner until there were warm fingers pressing against his throat and another set of fingers trying to pry his arm away from his stomach. Pain flared underneath his palm before the chaos around him faded to nothing.

Something was wrong.

He could feel it in his stomach before his eyes opened and consciousness returned. There was something foreign in his abdomen and he could feel it shifting as his eyes snapped open. White flooded his line of sight before he could make out the sounds of screaming around him. A heavy warmth held down his wrists as he began to pull against the tight grip. "We have you, SHIELD-Brother," a deep voice rumbled overhead. Hazy blue eyes looked up to meet another set of blue eyes in a warm face. "You are safe, Steven."

"Hold him still!" a voice called out before the objects in his stomach twisted and curled like grasping fingers. Pain flared up like white-hot tendrils that stabbed through flesh, bone, and blood alike, quickly knocking loose his grip on his awareness.

The next thing the Captain knew, he was lying on something soft and a fuzzy warmth had surrounded him.

"Hey, Cap, just stay still," a voice murmured, tempting the blonde soldier to just keep his eyes closed. "Bruce was able to patch you up but you aren't fully healed, yet. On the plus side, you get to bunk in one of the best buildings in all of Manhattan! Yay! I'm talking about Stark Tower, in case you missed that." It definitely had to be Tony that was talking to him; he was not sure that anyone else could be so prideful of such an ugly building that stood against New York's skyline. "Get some sleep, Cap," the soft voice continued as something ran through his hair. "Next time you wake up, Tweety wants you to suffer through a Lord of the Rings marathon."

Once he felt the weight shift on the bed and the footsteps trail away, the blonde opened his eyes to see a brightly decorated room. A large banner hung about the door wishing that he get well soon while stuffed animals, flowers, and boxes of Pop-Tarts filled the room. He was not sure about the Pop-Tarts but he could not help but smile at the effort that his fellow teammates had made to assist him when he did not ask for it. He would have to make it up to them as soon as he could.

And maybe Steve Rogers was alive after all.

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