There were many times in Tony Stark's life when he wondered if anyone would care.

The first time he wondered, was when he was roughly twelve, already fighting a 'dead' man for his father's approval. Fighting so hard, doing everything inside his small body's capabilities to make his father proud- god knows that his mother, Maria Stark, was, but that never seemed to matter to him.

There was a night when he sat in his room, staring up at the glowing figures hand drawn on the ceiling paint, hearing his father shouting from the other side of the wall- a drunken angry slur followed by the tell tale crash of breaking glass and more shouting.

He later wondered why his mother never tried to stop him, and only a few days of serious contemplating did he understand why.

His mother was weak, a fragile little woman trying to be strong while she stood next to a man like a lion, it was impossible for her to even summon the smallest urge of confidence in his ever watching presence.

Lying on that bed, Tony wondered if he ran away, would his father even care? His mother sure would, she would probably utter the small idea of search parties- only for them to be shot down by his dad, waving his disappearance off by being a 'spoiled little brat' or something along those lines, drowning away the small amount of caring he had, then continuing to drown in alcohol, because he simply could.

The second time he wondered was when he had long since graduated- when he stood next to Obbie looking at two twin caskets, bolted firmly down while flowers were laid to rest on the mahogany surface. Lying there innocently, to distract the viewers from the knowledge of the wrecked and mauled corpses below.

A car crash, the one moment his mother finally grew enough nerve to command Howard to come visit him, the one time they cared a small amount, and some drunken trucker kills them.

Figures.

The older Tony Stark sat in the church, sitting silently at one of the pews while the rest of the service had long since left, transporting the two caskets to an important burial site. It was there, staring at the grooves and scratches on the benches in front of him, then he momentarily wondered what it felt like to die. He wondered, how hard it would be to kill himself- he didn't have anything else to live for, a career sure, no parents, no friends, no lovers- hell, even the smallest idea of what love is, would be a candle in the dark.

Obbie stayed behind, sitting next to him with a tumbler with a strong amber liquid in his right hand, as he slung his left arm over Tony's shoulders, his version of a compassionate hug.

Of course, compassion wasn't the way Obadiah Stane lived, instead of offering understanding, a glass of Gin was the answer in Obadiah's eyes.

That was Tony's first drink- he found he liked it very much.

It kept the thoughts away.

The third time, was when he was wondering blindly in the burning sands of Afghanistan- the tiny rocks ripping into his open wounds, leaving a trail of blood behind as he stumbled on, nearly blind in the bright sunlight.

He wondered then if everything was in vain, if the death of a new friend was so he could be found as a corpse, scorpions or some other insect already feasting on his liver- no, not his liver. His liver had enough acidic build up that it was a marvel he hadn't gotten parts of it removed yet.

He doubted, Hell he doubted a lot. A part of him still shaken from torture, periodically twitching when pain spontaneously wracked his body- a part of him curling up in the agony of it, wishing then more than anytime to have his Mother, his few friends, hell even his father, if it meant someone who actually cared.

But he couldn't do that. He had an image, a mask that he had to uphold.

So he stumbled on, relief that satisfied him for years when he saw Rhodey in a familiar helicopter, when he embraced him near tears, forcing Tony to 'never do that to me again!'

Yeah- he was satisfied.

It lasted for a few years, until poisoning from the sole thing that kept him alive wracked his body, pain bringing back flashbacks that made his teeth tremble together with a loud click! Noise.

Rhodey seemed to know about it- he probably thought it was about Afghanistan, and he recommended Tony getting a Therapist.

Tony Stark, didn't do shrinks.

When he was dying, people were concerned- they finally seemed to open there eyes a few moments, watching his pain and suffering, watching his time tick to a close.

At least people cared about that.

Here he was now- sitting on a conference table where his life had done such a flip a dolphin would be proud. He sat at the table- Steve shouting at how he had been careless in battle, or a weapon of his nearly hit pedestrians, when in fact his technology was a far cry from injuring anyone except a threat.

He sat there, taking it calmly- or at least it looked like that.

Steve shouting about him, Bruce jumping to his defense before being knocked down by Fury, who then brought Clint into the fight, Natasha joining to help.

Tony was glad Thor was in Asgard, he really couldn't deal with his booming voice right about now.

Tony heard the whisper of doubt in him again, laughing at him blindly as he numbly watch a normal meeting turn to a near fight, all about him. All with or against, criticizing, praising, it was tearing him apart.

"Big man with a suit or armor…take that away, what are you?"

Hurting? Torn and stitched together so many times a wind rips you apart? Conflicted? Wondering?

Wondering if you even care.

'If I died this moment- how many of you would actually care? Who would even notice first?' Tony thought, looking at the bickering group, the question that followed him his entire life in his head as he crammed his hands in his pocket- edging to do something to occupy his mind- take a drink to make it all go away.

Fingers brushing against something hard under his chest, and a slightly masochistic thought flitted through his mind- suicidal perhaps?

'Time to see who it is. I've always wondered who it would be.' He thought, watching the others while he fumbled with his phone, strangely clumsy as he hacked the security network, feeding the security camera's a linked feed of the meeting previously.

He set his phone in his pocket- suddenly cowardly as he fluttered his hands over the front of his chest, through the Tee- shirt he managed to throw on before flying aboard.

"-his fault that we're at risk so often! He should stop being the hero- he isn't one!"

Eyes fluttering close, momentarily hiding the hurt in his eyes before his mask slipped into place and he mimicked scratching his stomach, the shouting of the room easily masking the clicking noise of his Arc Reactor unlatching.

He noticed the lighter spot on his shirt move as he pointed the Arc away- perhaps it would be better if there was no light, perhaps they would notice faster.

Click- he paused, the tugging feeling and a short zap of pain passing as he pulled the original magnet out of the discharge, pulling on the Arc, which sent out the pulses from the doe-nut shaped magnet, into him. The moment the unit left his body, he could feel the effects. A slight burning of his chest, similar to a pinched nerve in a joint. He waited, gently fiddling with the Reactor with his hands under the table.

They continued to shout, Bruce at this point sitting down, eyes closed while one hand pinching the bridge of his nose- not even casting a look towards Tony.

'Not one look? I thought I was your friend?'

Tony looked to his right, seeing Clint hold back Natasha, glaring steadily as Steve and Fury seemed to gain some ground.

'Nobody? Clint, I know you feel what I do, ever since the Loki incident, and Natasha, Pepper filled you in with my mental status, I'm sure.'

Tony didn't dare look at Steve, looking at Fury, who glared at his two spies who seemed to be criticizing his reason for keeping secrets.

'Not even you, Nicky? You should know better- you saw me dying before.'

Nobody had even casted him a glance, and he was starting to feel the effects rather strongly of going almost a full minute without the Reactor. The loud pulsing of blood in his ears, the tightening of his chest, how it felt harder to breathe.

'I'll even make it easier for you guys.' He mentally chuckled, silently setting the Reactor on the table, the light steady and strong as it casted a slight shadow from a plant on the wall.

Nobody even noticed.

'Not even you Cap? My dad spoke highly of you- a man capable of everything, and yet, you can't even see when a person feels alone?'

Tony leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering to his arm, where the exposed hand seemed translucent as every vein was noticeable, pulsing loudly in his ears. He swallowed, not seeming able to do so without adding to the now almost unbearable pain in his chest- was there water in his lungs? No, most likely blood from the shrapnel.

'So this is what it feels like to have nobody. I guess they don't care.'

And as much as he hated it, Tony fitted his mask once more on his face, crossing his arms while he mustered his strength to lift his chin arrogantly, staring at Steve with a look of indifference.

"As much as I'd hate to cut your chat short- I've just wondered-"

"Shut it Stark! I don't want to hear from you right now!" Steve growled back, eyes locked with Clint, holding one finger to add to his words.

"It's nothing big! It's just that-"

"I'm busy!"

"Well I'm-"

"Talk later Stark!"

"It's kinda'-"

"Not. Another. Word." Steve growled out, Natasha giving a sigh as she mimicked Bruce's position, Fury having left to probably get coffee or something to calm him down.

"That's okay- I can do that." Tony mumbled quietly, looking at the clock on his phone.

'Two minutes, let's see if I can make it to three without dying.'

They argued on, and now Tony felt the fluid in his lungs build to a point where breathing issued a little gurgle. He mustered a cough, quickly hiding his hand as if came away red- before pausing.

'I should cough on the table. If my Reactor and what I look like isn't a sign enough, I don't know what is.'

He waited patiently, the corners of his vision growing black as he now was leaned heavily on his chair.

'Two minutes, forty five seconds.'

"Huh, so this is what it feels like." He mumbled quietly, he was sure Steve heard him, but he looked at the clock, smiling grimly as the second hand surpassed the twelve, a whole three minutes.

"Thirty seconds." Tony hummed softly, by this point Clint backed down, Natasha taking his front, and he casually looked over at Tony, freezing at his translucent and sickly looking complexion no doubt, before spotting the Arc Reactor on the table and the blood on the furnished wood.

"Stark! Tony Stark! What the hell are you doing!" Clint shouted, jumping to his feet, chair banging loudly onto the ground, drawing the argument to a close as the three others in the room snapped their head over to see what was wrong.

Steve froze, looking at Tony with eyes filled with something akin to horror.

'Clint's the first to notice, just by chance. Guess they don't really care. Dad was right.'

"Huh- Three and a half minutes for you to notice that I'm dying, personal record I say." Tony mused, twirling the Arc on the table before hacking into his fist, blood splattering the table top.

"Put that thing back in right now!" Steve shouted, and Tony glared, lifting his chin defiantly.

"I don't think I will." He replied smartly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over the hole where the Arc used to sit. Darkness in the corner of his vision slipping over his eyes as they slowly closed- faintly hearing someone shout for help over the intercom before he heard nothing.

'I guess they don't care.'

But then he woke- woke to bright and burning light with pain in his chest, just as he was used to.

Jerking himself upright with movement that ruptured several IV's, he pulled on a tube in his nose, feeling greatly disturbed as he felt it inside of him slip out through his throat and into the air, a scarlet liquid clinging to it.

"They used that to drain your lungs." A voice offered, Steve, who sat next to him.

"Huh- normally they put that through my mouth." Tony weakly ground out, throat raw from the tube rubbing no doubt.

Steve didn't respond, watching with an intimacy that faintly made him concerned, before he remembered that he didn't care.

"You almost died- the Arc going back in nearly sliced your body apart." Steve added, looking with a critical eye.

'Is he concerned?'

"What a shame that would be, cutting apart a perfect body like mine." Tony ground out, swallowing the rough feeling in his throat.

"How the hell can you joke about this! You nearly killed yourself Stark!" Steve practically shouted, banging his fist against a small trey filled with melted sherbets, courtesy of SHEILD.

"You know me- 'my fault we're at risk so often'." Tony quoted, feeling slightly satisfied when Steve looked down, ashamed no doubt.

"Tony- I"

"Would it be easier if I was dead? You wouldn't be near in as many accidents." Tony quizzed, challenging Steve. Steve pinched his nose, not responding as he thought about what to say.

"Tony- you're part of this team, as much as you don't want to be, you're part of us."

"You guys don't even care." Tony scoffed, turning his head to look away, catching Steve's alarmed face before however.

"Don't care? Of course we care Stark- you- I"

"Then why did you argue that day?" Tony dared- he didn't actually know if it was even a different day, but with his luck, it was probably a week.

"I-" Steve tried, looking down as he curled his hand in a fist so tightly his knuckles shone white.

'Thought so.'

"She died." Steve blurted, noticing Tony's face of confusion he tried to explain further, hurt showing on his face.

'Died? Who died?'

"SHEILD found her- Peggy Carter- she died that day, a year before they found me in the ice…They- I"

"It's okay." Tony weakly smiled, guilt now coiling in his gut as he realized what he had done.

'Well, don't I seem like the ass.'

"I can't lose someone else on that day- I can't lose anyone ever, you got that Stark?" Steve offered, a smile at the end to show that the worse was over.

"Yeah- I got that Cap."

'Yeah, you actually do care.'