AN: This is the first part to my series, "The World Has Fallen (And You Left Me Behind)."

WARNINGS: major character death, explicit language.

Take away passion and the world would be a tomb: a grand yet depressing castle of cobblestone ruins, and emotionless people.

But he doesn't need the passion. The whole damn world is a war zone and the civilians love him. He doesn't understand why; he and his friends protect it from danger like white blood cells take down viruses. It isn't that he and his friends loved doing it; it's that he and his friends are obligated to since they are the only people equipped to do so.

"Tony, I found the bomb!"

With his life back in the forties, his slumber in ice for over seventy years and his resurrection now... he can say he has lived a full life, despite only being in his twenties biologically.

An absolutely chaotic and happy and stupid life.

Those former years before he was accepted in the army... they were hard, lonely yet he was satisfied enough knowing after his Ma had passed on and had nothing, he still had his best friend who stubbornly stuck by his side. It was far from a perfect life but it wasn't all that horrible either.

"Fucking finally! Where the hell is it? Never mind, JARVIS locked in on your location. I'm coming to you now."

Then his life turned a whole hundred eighty degrees when he met the kind and straightforward Dr. Erskine. Because of him, he was able to join the army and become the man he is today. Because of him, he was able to do extraordinary things he thought only happened in moving pictures (or movies as they call them now) or in dreams.

"No! You fly out of here right now! Get the team to safety!"

"What the fuck are you talking about? I swear to all the gods that exist out there that you are fucking insane if you think I would ever leave you."

He's only going to admit this once. You have to keep your mind open and understand. Despite the cause of millions of lives hurt or lost, his whole purpose in life would have been non-existent if it weren't for all the bullies, the Nazis, the terrorists...

Had they not pushed him around, had they not strike him at his weakest... it scares him to even attempt to think about what he would have turned out if he wasn't picked on or if Bucky hadn't become his friend or if his mother hadn't cared.

Despite his frailty, his mother cared for him and loved him deeply.

Despite their differences, his best friend had always looked out for him.

Despite getting himself knocked down, the bullies gave him a reason to stand.

"It's your bomb, Tony! They were able to replicate it—"

"Okay, then I know how to—"

"There's no damn kill switch, Tony! I have to—I have to..."

"Whatever you're thinking, Steve, it won't work. You'd kill yourself and that is not an option. Just wait for me to get there and I can defuse it."

His life, it flashes before his eyes…

Sitting at his usual place in school, he has been lazily brushing his pencil against his battered notebook. A smile had sneaked on his face as he finished up drawing a portrait of his mother for her birthday.

Everything around him distorts as he then sees his beloved stomping his way to him, grease and oil splattered his shirt, pants and face. He had been scowling and mumbling something about wrong calculations as he plopped onto his lap, curling to his chest. When you find your significant half, you'll understand the feeling of blissful flight because that's what he had felt when his beloved's lips had swept against his.

I love you, he had told him.

"There isn't enough time. I can..."

I know, he had said.

"Steve?"

For the last time, the scene changes and now he can see his best friend with a genuine smile stretching on his face that usually had a thousand-year-old worry etched on it. He remembers being happy for him; he had never seen him that carefree since they rescued him from HYDRA and slowly restored his old self.

He can clearly remember it all: how he had been too scared to make a decision for himself, or how he'd carry a knife with him wherever he goes, or how he he'd freak for a second every time he'd say "I'm with you 'till the end of the line, Buck." It wasn't long before they were all caught in a battle when his shield was out of reach and was about to get shot when Bucky came running in, covering him with his metal arm, saying, "You're not getting off that easily yet, punk. I'm still with you 'till the end of the line."

But none of that matters now because without passion, the world would still be a tomb.

He's content with what he has.

"I love you so much, Tony. Oh god, even when you won't even eat until you finish building a new project—"

"What the actual fuck?"

He feels fulfilled with what he has accomplished.

"—when you mumble to yourself when you're nervous—"

"Steve!"

The bomb he's holding as he runs at his top speed... it's ticking fast. He can't stop the damn ticking. Time is running out, and that isn't an option for him.

He would have thought it would hurt more: dying. He had tried it once it back in the forties and it didn't really work because he ended up being just dormant for a couple of decades, neither did it hurt. It was just a moment of shock and then the peace came in later.

He jumps off the edge of the cliff and for the first time in a long time, there is no one there to catch him. The others are out there fighting their own battles and he will never forgive himself if he were to bring Tony into this.

You know what his mother's last words are to him? "In order to grow up, you must let go of the past."

He can't. It's his past that makes him grow up.

And now, it's his past that makes him strong.

He can't scream. There would be no point to it. He smiles slightly as he hears Tony's voice through the earpiece. It's erratic and loud, and that's when it hits him that this is the genius yet stubborn man he fell in love with.

"—when you try to cook for the team and it all ends up burnt—"

"Fucking stop!"

There is a type of silence that screams into a man's ears until he becomes deaf with it.

There is a type of exhaustion that gives him a sense of resilience that he all but refuses to allow himself to succumb to it.

There is a type of pain that could last 'till days, or weeks, or months on end, feeling nothing but sheer numbness.

He doesn't have days or weeks or months.

The bomb ticks its last.

"I love you so much, To—"

And he's gone.

"Steve? STEVE?"

A world without passion is not a tomb. It's a damn purgatory.

"FUCKING SAY SOMETHING ROGERS OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO UPGRADE YOUR SHIELD AND GIVE YOU A DAMN SUIT!"

Steve Rogers didn't go down burning.

"No, no, no, no, no! I know you can hear me, Steve! Fucking say something!"

He was glowing.

"FUCK YOU, STEVE!"

He didn't fight death, darling.

"... Steve?"

He embraced it.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a review.