(Lots of thanks to my great Beta Reader, my amazing cousin, Percabeth1300)
Oh shit, was the first thought that went through his mind.
His heart pounded loud in his ears, maybe even louder than the time he was unfrozen from the ice- which was saying a lot. The flash of red and gold hurt his eyes as the large pointed missile was guided away from the already destroyed city and redirected into the gaping portal that was torn through the sky.
The blackness of space and the whoosh of the energy crackling around its surface was almost as deafening as the war that was going on around Captain America. He barley noticed at first, more focused on his patriotic shield that whipped back around like a frisbee after knocking three of the Chitauri out of the way, sending them falling over one another.
Steve looks up hastily at the sky and freezes in place, watching the wormhole suddenly stuttering out jolts before closing in on itself.
He only gets a fleeting glance of the metal figure, hands wrapped tightly around the explosive as he shot it up and disappeared. Steve felt the battle slow down around him, the blades, guns and hovercrafts pausing in time as a horrible unease rested in his stomach.
Tony.
The gap crumpled in, cracking like glass shards and seeping, bleeding away into the disgustingly beautiful blue sky, draped with perfect silk clouds and rays of white sun bouncing off the ugly rubble of the once city of New York.
That's going to be a lot of property damage to pay for, he grimly reminded himself with an almost grin before a loud shudder threw him back into reality. Thor glanced up at his right, twisting and swinging his hammer, flying up to one of the not destroyed rooftops, ready to find the genius who would soon fall back. Right?
He waits, and the portal has finally dissolved with a low, soft hum, the image of the glinting stars and shadows of space evaporated. The machine on the top of Stark Tower powers off with a rattle that can be felt in the cracked roads. It's in the back of his mind that the aliens that were left were fleeing, screaming in terror and panicking like the civilians they had attacked only minutes ago.
As he turns away, Steve looks into the beastly face of one of the creatures, who raises his blade furiously about to stab him. Oh. His body doesn't process the request to block it in time, breath catching in his throat.
An arrow whisks right before him, the whistle of it audible as it slices accurately through the monster's skull, the thing screeching on impact before collapsing to the ground, Steve watching in utter silence as the sword-like weapon clattered into bloody debris. It takes him more time than he should need to start and look up over to Clint, who was waltzing his way through the ruins, once or twice he would bend over to pluck one of his retrievable arrows and sliding it back with the few he had left.
The archer's stormy eyes seemed to get even darker as he look at Captain America's expression. Both hesitate, then talking at the same time while shuffling in the scraps, gazing over the broken city. Hawkeye goes for a smile.
"We did it-"
"Iron Man, he-" The super solider stammers, his mouth suddenly dry, "The missile. H-he didn't make it."
The hand on his bow seems to go white-knuckled as Clint's jaw shifts, biting into his lip as he swivels on the bottom of his heels, turning away. Steve feels his heart starting to sink in on itself, weighing down like a boulder as his mind began to process what he had just witnessed.
Tony Stark was dead.
Tony saved the city and sacrificed himself to do so. Of all ways he had to die, Steve would have imagined a lab accident, or a fatal crash-landing in the Iron Man suit, or even alcohol poisoning since he drank so much.
This is not what Steve expected.
"Report back to Stark Tower for evaluation." Natasha sighs into her comm, but it echoes against the team's silence. Each hero moves slow and almost lost when they start toward the broken skyscraper.
...
There is a pained, pressuring silence that takes over all the Avengers as they gradually settled, escaping from the battle- everyone going back to lick their wounds. They had already patrolled the whole cityscape at least four times, mostly on Cap's precise orders. There was nothing to be found.
Even though everyone thought they should be celebrating their victory since it was of utmost importance to all the lives they saved in New York, they dragged themselves into Stark Tower ungracefully, sulking in a dark despair. No one realized how much of a toll it would take if one of them...
Steve watched with distant blue eyes, frowning and glaring at his feet while Hawkeye insisted on going back out once more to check again, trying to cling to an ounce of hope, but it seemed there wasn't any. Bruce was in a half unconscious state on the other end of the beige leather couch, groaning into the pillows and Natasha has slunk back, pacing the room's perimeter like an irritated panther, mumbling under her breath with a hint of anger and, well, Steve only recognizes it as regret.
Steve only remembered his few, scattered moments with the genius. The blonde realized those were his last moments with him, and another part of his heart was cut open.
Thor was shouting in his normal intense and powerful voice, his hammer, Mjölnir, shaking wildly as his waved his fists in the air, while he bellowed about Stark being a hero to all.
"We must continue our search for Friend Stark." He boomed, making the blonde cringe inward. He uneasily shifts, sitting in front of the Demi-god.
His voice cracks awkwardly when he starts, "Clint is looking-"
"Captain," The Black Widow's voice echoes and a hand on his shoulder make him reflexively flinch and slumps backwards. "Steve?"
"What?" He lifts his head to meet her serious face, "Yes?"
She looks up at the raging Asgardian calmly, "Thor. Could you leave Steve and I alone for a moment?"
He looks about to protest before she mentions the Pop-Tarts in the kitchen.
Her hand goes to him, and at first he thinks she is trying to comfort him until he feels a smooth object slide into his palm, making his hand curl around and reveal the newest StarkPhone laying there.
He nearly throws it when a rough, tiresome voice speaks through it, "Captain Rogers."
The blonde sighs, lifting it up to examine it while saying, "Yes, Director?"
The man clears his throat awkwardly, "We need to have a progress report on this event, so I've sent Agent Hill and h-"
"No." Steve splutters, surprised by his own words, as well as having such difficultly speaking his own mind, "No, I can't do that right now, Fury."
He can almost hear the raise of eyebrows in the room, Thor dropping his ten boxes of Pop-Tarts in the kitchen. Steve stands, his hand crushing the phone just a little it.
"And why," Director Fury's voice seemed strained, "Is that?"
He straightens his back unsteadily, "Because... we wouldn't all be there."
"Who is missing?"
The super-soldier opens his mouth but Natasha snatches the phone from his hand, throwing it and cracking it against the wall, leaving him stunned and gaping at her. She surges forward, grabbing the man's shoulder with an almost hiss.
"We haven't told him yet. No one has told Shield yet and," Her pause only lasts a second, "I don't think we want them to know just yet."
When she moves aside, Steve takes in the sight of the sad family room of Stark Tower, because suddenly, everything seemed bland or just different without Tony. It wasn't the same to look at all of his inventions, realizing he was never going to make another one. Everything reminded him of Tony, and that only made him feel worse.
Maybe he could have prevented Tony from chasing after that missile and then he wouldn't have to go to through this. As Steve was looking through the papers that were listed with Tony's name in a file in the kitchen counter, the word deceased had appeared next to his current status. The word seems to have a hard time going through his mind, because how could the genius Tony Stark, the Iron Man, be dead?
This man had been tortured, kidnapped, and had more near-death experiences he could count so how was this possible?
Tony was all BUT dead. It was impossible to accept the facts.
He wandered to his room in a daze, shaking off Clint and Natasha who tried to talk to him, and curled up on the edge of his bed.
What kind if leader did that make him? Was he a bad leader for having Tony die and him not being able to stop it? He has lost all of his family, his best friend he died, his girlfriend aged away while he was frozen and eventually died, and now...
Tony died. Steve couldn't figure out a category to put the outlandish genius under, but it ranged in between 'annoying little shit' to 'I have a really awkward crush in this guy'. He admittedly did cry a little bit before he closed his eyes, but in only a few minutes he was woken by a familiar voice.
Steve starts when the AI system wakes him from his half-asleep conscious. The solider rubs his face exhaustedly, ridding the evidence of tears.
"Captain Rogers," The British voice says considerately, almost tiredly.
"Yes?"
"I have has a request of your presence immediately. You have an incoming message from Ton-"
"Not now Jarvis," The blonde curls his legs up to his face, resting his chin on his knees and blocking out the voice of the intelligent system. It kept reminding him of Tony.
"Captain Rogers, please-"
"Jarvis. No, I'm not in the mood." He turns his steely blue gaze to the ceiling even though technically he's not particularly located in the ceiling. Jarvis is everywhere.
"It is very urgent Captain," The AI says, sounding so human because he sounds so pained and startled. The blonde chucks a notebook across the room.
"Not. Now." And with that he collapses, sliding off his bed and gripping the sheets, sniffling. The more he thought about Tony then more it hurt. Like a stab at the heart. Steve didn't move for another good hour.
He was finally gathered up and collected into the family room, convinced by Natasha (more like dragged) out and laid still on the counter, slumping in his seat. The team was a sad, sad sight when in emotion turmoil or despair.
Clint was wielding a bottle of wine and Natasha seemed less organized, her hair clumped and her wounds still visible from battle. Thor had lost his energy and will to go on, and Bruce was in a daze, staring at the walls or coffee-maker for a minute before blinking and running his eyes. Steve was surprised he hadn't Hulked out yet. Together the team looked like a huge, hungover wreck.
Natasha, unsurprisingly was the first to speak. "We need to talk to Pepper, because I'm sure that somewhere in Stark's will he put-"
"Oh God, Pepper!" Steve yelps, shaking and grasping the edge of the counter firmly, "She doesn't- wait, his will?"
He looks incredulously around his team. "We're discussing his will? Can't we wait? It seems a little to soon too-"
"Captain," The red curls bounce around her face as she sighs and leans forward, running her fingers through them, her face seeming empty and dismayed. "All of the media will fling themselves on to us once they know, and obviously, I think some noticed we were missing a person when we came back here."
Snap. Clint is the only one who looks alarmed when Steve breaks off a chunk of perfect marble table-top, crushing it so simply in his hands like it was paper.
"We can't start yet-"
"Steve. It's over-"
"No, it's not. We don't have to-"
"Steve." A voice interrupts, making Natasha turn her stare to Banner, scarcely having the ability to lift his head enough for him to look at the two. His words slurred with dreary pain as he spoke, but he knew what he was saying.
His rough hand met Steve's for a second, patting the solider with calloused fingers and a long, drawn sigh.
"You have to stop thinking about him," Bruce quietly stammers, "He wouldn't want the team he helped build this team, he wouldn't want to see us fall apart at his death-"
"Don't bring that up," Steve hisses, glaring at the man like he murdered a puppy, "Tony-"
There is a loud crack as the front door opens and the following footsteps are heavy, almost slow, like a limp.
"Intruder?" Bruce whispers, trying to get up but seemingly can't.
Clint and Thor had immediately shot up from their seats on the couch, looking ready to launch forward and attack whoever had-
The whole family room seems to stop and tense as a man enters, dressed in horribly, broken amour, rivets falling off at each step he takes.
"Guys," Tony holds up his hand weakly, wiping his face casually with his one good hand, the metal smudging more dirt and blood over his cheeks, "There is this really cool shawarma joint right down block, we could walk there so, hey, you all wanna go...what are you all looking at? Did you seriously think I would die that easily?"