Here's a short story to read! I hope you enjoy! See the end for more info on the story...


Steve Rogers used to be human, and then they stuck that Serum in him, and now he's a Super-Human. At first everything was fine; and then he started realizing that Super-Human's weren't supposed to feel any emotion.

He was okay with it at first, too, because all his life he concealed his thoughts and never voiced his opinions right out. But lately it had become who he is. It's become his default setting, and he wasn't quite sure if he was okay with it.

But then again, that default setting came in and pushed out all of his real feelings and shoved in all these fake, artificial ones.

It was almost annoying.

But he didn't even mean for it to be this way, but he's sure that it is best this way. It happened so often anymore, he was starting to think the others were catching on, but he knew better.

They didn't care what was going on with him; he was their Leader, he was always strong. He picked them up when they fell down, and made sure they were always properly taken care and that they weren't injured or anything after a mission. But he wasn't allowed to fall down, he was the Leader.

Tony was the worst one when it came to helping them. Most often when it came to helping him, Tony was drunk.

And he was a mean drunk.

He would poke at all of Steve's wounds, because he knew just what to say to strike a nerve. But Steve always kept calm and helped him anyway, even though Tony was slowly tearing down his self-walls of protection. Steve was like Tony's verbal punching bag.

The next day Tony would always apologize for what he said; even though Tony himself had no clue as to what he had said.

Steve suspected that Tony would watch the video footage from the security cameras around Stark Tower and figure out what he said.

But when Tony would apologize, Steve would always smile and say that it was okay and would say those God-awful two words; 'I'm fine'.

It came so easily for him to lie to the others, it was almost amusing. They would always claim he was a terrible liar, and maybe so, but he sure knew how to lie when it came to himself. He cursed at the fact that he had such a great memory; because he remembered every time he had lied and said, 'I'm fine.'


The Avengers were all playing cards in the main room of the Tower when Steve received a phone call. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his simple flip phone and saw a set of familiar numbers on it.

He flipped it open and pressed it against his ear, while also pressing a couple of fingers to the opposite ear so he could hear the phone better since all of the Avengers were talking an laughing so loudly.

"Hello?" He asked into the small device, still blown away that this little thing worked.

"Mr. Rogers, I presume?" A male voice asked from the other end of line.

"Yeah," He said with a nod, even though he knew the guy couldn't see it.

"I called to inform you that Gabe Jones passed on early this morning in his sleep." The man said, and suddenly all the air was knocked out of his lungs and his vision blacked out for a few moments. But he just saw him a couple of years ago, he was young, he was...

He wasn't there, Rogers.

When his sight returned, all he saw was the Howling Commando's drinking beer and laughing, full of joy from just winning another battle. Gabe was there, young and full of life and energy. He blinked again, and the hallucination ended, causing reality to come crashing back and injure his lungs again.

He hadn't even been aware that the guy on the phone was still talking until now. "I just felt it was necessary to contact you and tell you about this. I truly am sorry." The guy said, and Steve felt like he had heard that too often; 'I'm so sorry for your loss', or 'I'm sorry this happened'. Steve sighed.

"Thank you, sir." Steve said curtly, and before the man could respond, he flipped the phone shut, still in shock. How could this have happened? He knew Gabe was the last one left and that he was getting older everyday, but...

His thoughts trailed off, and suddenly he started getting claustrophobic and the room was too small and an-all-too-familiar numbness started coursing through his veins. He stood up so abruptly, he almost knocked his chair over.

Everyone's attention turned to him and all the noise in the room came to a halt as they watched their Leader.

"Excuse me," He said before running out of the room and to the balcony. He knew he didn't have much time to mourn his loss, for his teammates would be coming any second. But it was enough time for him to try and get control.

He gripped the rail and clenched his eyes shut, hoping and praying for all the pain to go away as his knees buckled. His super hearing picked up footsteps coming up the stairs and he rapidly blinked away the tears in his eyes.

No, too soon.

His conscience cried as he prepared himself to see them. He turned around just in time to see all five of the Avengers enter the balcony.

"Cap?" Bruce asked cautiously as they all slowly walked over to him; acting as if he was a wild animal or something that had been possessed. Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stood up a little straighter.

A gentle touch on his shoulder almost made him jerk, but he somehow remained still as he looked at the person who had dared to come so near him.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked as she looked up at him, a frown on her face. He looked up at everybody else to see concern etching their brows. But he knew it was fake. He knew that they were just making sure their Leader wasn't about to have a breakdown or something. So he did what always did; he rolled his shoulders back and plastered a fake smile on his face and said, "I'm fine."


Or the time when he was down in the gym at three a.m. every night for a whole month, causing J.A.R.V.I.S to turn his attention towards Steve and make sure he was okay, to which he replied with, "I'm fine,".

Or the time when he was brutally injured during a mission...


Steve panted heavily as he walked down the hospital halls and up to one of the rooms. Pain throbbed in his side and he could feel his temperature dropping every second, but he had to know how Clint was.

He needed to make sure he was okay.

Clint had been injured while fighting against Kingpin.

Steve had warned him not to, but Clint had done it anyway; much to Steve's dismay. By the time Steve had gotten to the warehouse where Clint and Kingpin were battling, Clint had been beaten to a pulp. Contusions had lined every square inch of Clint's body.

When Steve arrived, in order to save Clint, he had to fight Kingpin himself; which did not work out too well. He had somehow managed to get himself shot and stabbed. He hobbled up to the doorway and opened it shakily. He walked in and found Clint lying on one of the beds fast asleep, surrounded by every Avenger.

All of their attention went from the wounded Archer, to Steve.

He sighed with relief to see Clint all right, and felt the very last bit of adrenaline fade away as he took a couple steps closer, ignoring the blood that trickled down his leg and onto the floor; changing it from the pure white tile to being dotted with drops of crimson blood.

"Cap, are you okay?" Tony asked, still wearing his suit. Steve lazily nodded, but realized just how awful he felt in that moment.

Suddenly, he sunk down to the floor on his knees, and would have landed face first if not for the two people quickly went over and caught him. He felt Thor and Bruce's strong hands grab his shoulders and steady him.

They gently laid him down onto the floor, and he could just barely make out distant voices in the background, but couldn't figure out what was being said.

His vision started getting blurry and he felt pressure on the wound on his side, an unbearable kind of pain started there, and he feebly attempted at pushing them away, but it didn't work.

He heard a distant voice say something about hypovelmic, but he wasn't quite sure. His mind felt like there was a fog over it, and his tongue felt about two inches thick. But he still managed to utter two words out.

"I'm fine."


Or even the time when Tony yelled at him for a mission gone wrong. Or the time when Peggy died, or the time when he lied about being shot, or the time when he lied about eating and sleeping.

The list could go on forever, but Steve had realized sometime in there just how his team felt about him. He was Captain America to them, not Steve Rogers. He couldn't even think of a time where they had called him Steve instead of Cap. They didn't care about the man under the cowl.

So that's why when he went to his room, opened the drawer and grabbed the knife, he had no guilt or shame dragging the blade across his skin.

The cuts felt good, he felt like he deserved them. They broke the numbness that had settled into his heart and made him stone cold. He enjoyed the way the blade pierced his skin and the blood trickled out in slow, steady streams.

The Super-Serum would heal the cuts before he saw anybody, and besides, it wasn't like they'd care anyway. Without the uniform he was worthless.

Because Captain America and Steve Rogers were two different people; but Steve Rogers didn't exist anymore. And again, he was sure it was for the best, now nobody knew what was wrong with him, and nobody could break him.

But the truth is, he was already broken.


Okay, so you might think that this is just a small one-shot, but actually this is a prologue of a big story I have coming up! The story will be titled "Would It Matter", named after a Skillet song. It could be quite a while before I get to post that story, though.

Because currently I am writing two stories, and I also have writer's block. Not to mention the huge list of ideas for stories. I haven't even started on this story yet, but I thought I would give you a bit of a preview for it. So, I hope you liked it! I always love to hear your guy's thoughts!