He shivered in his bed, sitting hunched over with his head in his hands. Nothing was the same anymore. None of it. The man out of time.

Depression is a hard battle in itself, and even more difficult to work through when you've just discovered the fact that you've been asleep for seven decades. No, scratch that; you've been frozen for seven decades. All of the people that you've loved are either dead or on the edge of death, having lived a long and fulfilling life. They did it without you. The woman you loved, the comrades you saved, the country that once believed in you. Preposterous dumbass.

Depression is like looking through a pair of gray sunglasses. Regret hangs over your shoulder, never leaving that spot, even on a good day when the sun shines. Hopelessness, worry, and guilt. I should be dead. I'm only causing them more trouble by being alive. I'm useless. I'm not an icon anymore.I shouldn't be alive anymore. They can't help me, and they won't be able to help me. Stop. I failed them a long, long time ago. Why should they try? Why should I try? Forlorn idiot.

Salty tears ran down his face, staining his cheeks, dropping down to the sheets and darkening them. Tears are only 1% water, but 99% emotion. The throb in his left chest wasn't angina. It wasn't something doctors could give you a pill or two for. It was the repeated punches and kicks that depression threw upon it, and the way the memories haunted him, and the way his mind told him of what could have been. What could have been if Steve Rogers hadn't done this, but did this instead. Did this, and this, but not this. If he had just did that, instead of this. Reckless.

He wasn't the All-American icon anymore. He was just a rundown man that belongs in the depths of the ice. A man that belongs buried in the history books for the students to doodle moustaches on. He cringed and laughed. What would they do if they saw what used to be a national hero in this state of being? If they saw me crying like I am, acting like a fool that doesn't know the difference between depression and being an attention-whore. He laughed and the throb in his chest worsened. But he continued; he should punish himself with pain if he was being like this. Worthless.

Gasping for air, he struggled to let oxygen into his lungs. Steve Rogers was being drowned. Drowned by a villain he hadn't dealt with before. One that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have files for. One that only the people who had faced him knew what he was like, but even then, he was different for everyone. Cruel, vicious, nasty. Unrelenting, harsh, malicious. He was drowning Steve Rogers. The harder he fought, the further he was pushed into the water. Even his super-soldier lungs couldn't hold up this time around. Insignificant.

They did it all without you. And they can do it without me again, can't they? He scoffed and stood from his bed. Scurrying to his desk, he searched for a pen and when he found one, scribbled, "Sorry." onto a sticky note. Ripping open his door, he raced down the hall to where the stairs would be.

"Jesus Christ, Steve! Where're you going?"

Steve Rogers looked down from his way to his last mission and caught sight a familiar man. Immediately, he fell to the floor in a fit of sobs and tears now 99.9% emotion.

"Steve, baby."

The other man cautiously took the broken man into his arms, wrapping him as tightly as he could in his arms and caught the tears in his sleeve.

"Steve, you shouldn't do this. It scares me now, and it's not good for you. I know everything is tough, but we need some help now. I'm worried about you, and you mean so much to me, and I can't risk your life because of this. There's nothing more in this world that I want more than you, and you know, I gotta have what I want." A broken laugh came from Steve's lips.

"I was just coming by to see if you wanted to sleep over, but I think I have a different proposal to make now." Steve looked up at the famous Tony Stark who was so near and dear to his shattered heart.

"Why don't you come live with me at the tower?"

The man getting back in time. The national hero.

AN: So, this is totally not the kind of thing I write usually, but it really reflects upon me. Please R&R, and thanks so much for reading! It means a lot to me! Ooh, and please check out my other story, The Femme Fatale: The Beginning of a New Avenger