Next chapter, Tony! It's a little bit longer than the others. I have never had a panic attack before, so I could be portraying it completely wrong, so sorry if I mess it up. Warning that I do attempt to write one midway through the chapter.

I don't think I've mentioned this before, but the story takes place in-between CA:TWS and A:AoU. Anyways, thank you all for reading and I hope that you like it :)

I don't own the Avengers or any rights to them.

Tony

It was movie night at the Avengers Tower. The movie was Star Wars, a spectacular film that Steve had not yet seen. Tony laughed at loud at the confused look that had crossed Steve's face when he asked, "they made six of these things?"

All in all, he had enjoyed the movie and was asleep on the couch. Everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for bed. Just as Tony had started to get up to go down to the lab, he realized how tired he was. And how comfortable the couch was beneath his tired muscles.

And he made the mistake of falling asleep on the couch with someone else in the room.

It started with the silence. It always started with that. The deafening silence outside his suit. His call to Pepper fizzled out at the same time the oxygen did. He could feel the lights go out, and knew that he would soon follow. His suit detached from the missile and he began to float through space. Weightless and incapable of doing anything. Powerless. Helpless. The nuke headed straight into the alien warship that strangely resembled an octopus with less arms.

Tens of those giant flying turtles covered up the blackness of space, headed down towards the wormhole.

"Not on my watch," he said inside his head as the missile reached its target. It exploded in silence as well, a giant, fiery ball engulfing the entire ship. His mission was done.

Feeling lightheaded, his eyes began to close as his lungs struggled to get air that was not present. The stars and the space began to blink out as darkness danced at the corners of his vision, edging its way along his line of sight until the only thing he saw was blackness. He could feel himself falling. He could feel his heart beginning to give out. He could feel the wormhole beginning to suck him back in. He could feel—

He felt nothing.

He always awoke in shock, gasping for breath that would not come into his heaving lungs. But this time, someone was in the room with him.

"Crap," was the word echoing in his brain once Tony realized how loud his strangled breathing was. And the fact that this time, he was not alone to deal with the problem.

In an instant, the soldier was at his side, eyes wild and worried as he looked at the choking inventor. "Tony! What's wrong?"

"C-can-t," he wheezed out, trying to get the images out of his mind. The falling, the explosion, the lifelessness that had imbedded itself in his bones. "Br-eea." His voice began to falter as he tried to sit up, to move, to do anything. But he felt as if lead were filling his veins, weighing him down.

"Choking, or something else?" Steve asked. His eyes were stern and set.

Tony shook his head as he continued to try and regain his breath. It simply wouldn't come. All of the aliens, about to descend onto the planet filled with innocent people. He knew he couldn't let it happen.

But the lack of air. The darkness that surrounded him. The infinite universe that surrounded the darkness. He was so small, so miniscule. And his lungs were running out of oxygen. It was cold. So cold inside the metal suit in the dead of space.

"Tony, you need to breathe," Steve commanded.

In a normal situation, Tony would've laughed. Because he couldn't breathe. Nothing Steve said would be able to change that. If he could breathe, he wouldn't be having this problem. "F—all—ing," was what he ended up choking out.

He could see the wheels turning in Steve's mind and then the light bulb that went off when he found the event.

"I want you to look around the room slowly." The soldier's voice was calm, so unlike how Tony felt at the moment. Everything was tense as his chest still struggled to get in enough air. But he did as the captain asked and looked around the room.

The television was on, as it had not been before, so Steve must have been watching it. The living room was neat and tidy, with large windows overlooking the city. His eyes turned back to Steve in confusion.

"I see a normal living room, as you do. You know what I don't see?" Tony shook his head. "I don't see space. Or aliens. Or an explosion. Look again."

The room came back into focus as Tony tried to calm himself. He was safe, he was in the Tower, and nothing was wrong. But he still felt off.

"There is solid ground under that horribly soft couch. You built this place yourself, nothing can harm you in it. This is not the battle, Tony. You are alive. You are okay."

Steve's words replayed in his head over and over until he began murmuring it to himself. "I—'m—okay. I am 'kay." With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and imagined the memory fragmenting until he could not see the picture any more. In and out. In and out. Gradually his breathing became more steady and the heat in his face began to die down.

"JARVIS would never let anything happen to you. Our team would never let you go on our watch." Steve's voice rolled over him, soothed him.

"I am okay," he finally whispered.

His eyes opened and Steve was still sitting beside the couch, poised as if ready to strike, but the look of terror was gone from his eyes.

"You alright?"

Tony nodded his head slowly, as if not to disturb another memory. "I usually have a better handle on them…"

"So they happen often?" Steve pushed.

In response, Tony sighed. "More than I'd like to admit, yes. But there's usually no one around to offer assistance. It ends and I go on with my life."

"Tony, why don't you ever ask for help? You have a team here that is willing to die for you."

"I've got JARVIS. He knows exactly what to do and simply coaches me through it. Like I said, it ends and I go back to tinkering." Tony sighed as he sat up, his body still weak from the attack.

"That's not healthy Tony. It's a big deal, whether or not you choose to make it one. We can help you, if you would just tell us," Steve countered.

"Was being in the ice for seventy years good for your health?" Tony snapped. Immediately he wanted to take the sentence back. He watched as Steve's eyes fell and he almost started to shiver. He looked…defeated. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that," he apologized.

"It's fine," Steve whispered before picking his head back up and pushing down whatever he was feeling inside.

"Look. You're the guy that never bleeds on anyone. No one ever knows what's going on in your head either. So what if maybe I admire that about you? I can make an army of iron suits, but I can't control my own memories and how I breathe? That just doesn't sound right."

Steve shook his head as a small smile crossed his face. "You'd be surprised at how wrong you are. Of course it sounds right. Everything you've done and seen, it has effect on you. All of us are stricken with some kind of memories from the past, and there's no escaping it. But you have to learn to lean on those that understand. You can't fight it all by yourself."

Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at Steve, causing him to look confused. "There it is. There's the guy that my dad wouldn't shut up about. Not the annoying one giving orders all the time, or arguing with me on absolutely everything, but the guy that gives the best speeches. You should become a motivational speaker, Cap. I can make it happen."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "I'm good at being an Avenger. If I wasn't, I'd probably just re-enlist in the army. It's the only thing I've ever really been good at."

Stark shrugged his shoulders and turned to the television, which was silently showing some advertisement for a car. "Why TV right now? It's like two in the morning."

"Only time I can watch old war movies without anyone laughing at me," Steve admitted. "Don't tell Barton."

"I think I can let this one slide, Cap, for tonight. What are we watching?" Tony knew that he wasn't going to get any more sleep that night. Even if he did, it wouldn't be good in the slightest.

"Sh, it's back on," Steve replied as he climbed back into the chair.

Tony never uttered a thank-you; it was never needed. Steve knew what Tony meant when he stayed to watch the movie. And then the one following it. So when the team woke up in the morning and walked down to see Tony and Steve watching old war movies, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, Tony defended Steve.

"They're actually decent movies," he said as the rest of the team laughed under their breath and made breakfast. Steve had helped him last night. And Tony would be damned if he never helped Steve back.

Next chapter will be Natasha. I have orientation on Thursday, so the next chapter will be posted on Saturday. The +1 chapter following Natasha will be of Steve.

Hint: I have been including little amounts of 'foreshadowing' for the Steve chapter in every chapter so far. Can you figure out what they are?

Once again, thank you all, and please review if you enjoyed!