Trigger Warning:

In Tony's half of this chapter he has a panic attack, if that type of thing triggers you please be advised it's there! It's not severely intense, but it is present!

And to everyone else, I hope I don't go overboard on the friendship drama, but it's just so good I usually can't help myself. ;) I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter!

The Raft prison seemed smaller than Captain America thought that it would be, not that he was allowed to see much of it himself. It made sense, he supposed, it would be dangerous to house too many of them together in one place, or maybe the place was bigger than it appeared.

He could hear Tony and Secretary Ross talking as he was lead away from them, and allowed a soft sigh to escape his lips as his eyes to drift closed. He let the guards lead him, the fight and will to escape drained from him entirely either in his fatigue or the overwhelming guilt.

He knew that his friends were also here, and he couldn't push down the remorse that gnawed at his chest. He wouldn't be able to get them out, and they were only here because of him and, for the most part, his quarrel with Tony.

"It's your fault they were arrested, you know," Tony had mentioned almost casually during the flight to the prison. He had seemed eager to go himself, as if to be certain Cap would make it there at all, and he had managed to call his own personal craft to escort them there.

It was a fair enough assessment, Captain America mused, he wasn't exactly known for being compliant when it came to this type of a situation, so it was yet another thing that Steve couldn't blame Tony for.

Tony had been silent up until that moment in time, refusing to respond to Steve's apologies and seemingly content to ignore his existence, but Steve knew Tony well enough to know he was brooding, allowing it to boil over inside of him. Steve had been staring out the window waiting for the verbal thrashing to erupt from the rich genius, he wasn't surprised when it came.

"You're the reason that your team is in jail now, you and all your oh so clever ideas," his tone had shifted, and Tony let the words ooze out of him with as much venom as he could muster.

The tone Tony used brought Steve back to the first time they had ever really met, it was as if the last several years had never even happened at all, and they were back to being bitter acquaintances, or worse, enemies.

"How do you feel about that, Rogers? Was it worth it? Did it ever occur to you that you were sacrificing all your friends, for just one? Because that's exactly what you did, there was no self sacrificing hero play you could make this time, so you threw them under the bus instead."

"That was never my intention," Steve responded slowly after clearing his throat, not trusting his voice.

"Intention or not, it's exactly what happened. What happened to laying over the wire, Rogers?"

"I tried to cut the wire, Tony, and it blew up in my face."

"You did not, the only person you tried to defend was Barnes, Barnes! Because he's your only tie to the dead world you left behind, right, Mr. 'Man out of time'?"

"He's my friend," Steve gritted his teeth.

"Your only friend, apparently, and here I thought we were all your friends! Did none of us mean as much to you as he did? How selfish is that?!"

"I let him 'die' before, I couldn't just stand aside and watch it happen again. I couldn't do that, not again!" Steve growled, anger obvious in his face as he stared Tony down vehemently.

Tony had the decency to look slightly startled at the proclamation, at least for a moment, as if he hadn't realized why Steve actually fought so hard to protect his friend.

"I had to hang on to the side of a train and watch as he fell to what I believed was his death, I was so close I could have reached him if I'd have had a second longer, but I didn't and he fell anyway. I couldn't just abandon him when I had a second chance to save him, I couldn't.." Steve's voice cracked and he lowered his eyes, rage draining from his body as he clinched his fists as tightly as he could, knuckles going white. "And yet you.." Steve trailed off.

He couldn't allow himself to believe that Bucky was dead, he had to hold on to the hope that maybe he had survived, he had survived worse in the past. If Steve let himself believe that Bucky was dead, there was no way he would be able to hold himself together any longer, so he had to hold to that shred of hope.

Silence filled the cabin of the plane and Tony mulled over this information in his mind, turning his head to stare out the window closest to him. He didn't feel guilty for forcing Steve to endure watching his friend die again, but he certainly felt something. Perhaps it was pity? It was hard for him to tell with the rest of emotions that rolled inside of his chest, the dull ache refusing to completely leave him, despite how numb he felt at the same time.

His stare turned to a hardened glare and he crossed his arms as tightly as he could manage across his chest, wincing in physical pain.

It was almost hard to remain angry with the super soldier, almost. Steve had done enough to warrant his wrath, but his reasoning hadn't been incredibly unreasonable, as Tony had first believed. However, it still wasn't justifiable, and after everything it was more than enough for Tony to remain furious with him.

Steve hadn't told him about the murder of his own parents, he had defended Bucky over every other friend that he had no matter the cost, he had destroyed the team, refused to negotiate about the Accords, and Tony was done with him.

Done trying to understand him, done trying to reason with him, done fighting with him, done with everything about him. The sooner they dumped him off at this prison, the better, and then Tony could set to work doing what he needed to do to get the other Avengers released, even if it had to be into his care, but Steve Rogers?

Steve Rogers could rot, for all he cared, and Steve could see that all over his face as he forced himself to look up at the man yet again, and it hurt.

Steve tried to tell himself that he didn't get to feel that way, not after everything that had happened, but it hurt all the same. The idea that Tony was willing to give up entirely on him despite everything else they had been through together shook him, it made him both mournful and bitter.

Because even though there was a possibility the man had killed Bucky, Steve knew that if Tony needed help he wouldn't be able to deny him. Sure, he may argue about it to begin with, but he would be there in an instant to pull his friend out of a bind if it were possible. It wasn't in Steve Roger's nature to leave one of his friends hanging, if they needed his help.

"I promise you, If you ever need me, I'll be there," Steve said finally, letting his voice break the silence.

Suddenly Steve was jarred from his reverie, the guards jerked him to a halt and also easily back to the present. He looked up, expecting to see a cell-block, but was bewildered when instead his eyes met something more akin to a laboratory.

He felt a shiver go down his spine as he glanced to the side, a eerie feeling creeping into his chest. It seemed that this prison might not be everything it was cracked up to be, and he was beginning to wish he had fought a little harder to avoid it.

Relief flooded Tony Stark when he finally landed back at the compound, despite the fact he found himself limping painfully in.

His whole body ached from his battle with Captain America, but he refused to go to a hospital. All he wanted was a shot of something strong and the familiarity of home, or at least, the place that had started to feel like home.

It felt empty now, empty and sad, and Tony felt all the more lonely for it. With Rhodey being in the best hospital money could afford, whether he wanted it or not Tony made sure of it, and Vision hidden away somewhere likely dealing with his guilt, the 'homey' feel of the compound dissipated completely.

Heaving a heavy sigh he made his way into the kitchen area, and began digging through the cabinets for whatever form of alcohol he could find. Finding a bottle he made his way back to his office, dropping into his chair and tearing the top off of the bottle in a hurry.

He watched it flow into his glass and then took a sip eagerly, then another, and another, waiting for it to help numb him.

It was hard to get Steve's last words out of his mind, they buzzed around in his head like an angry wasp and he wanted nothing more than to squash it. How could Steve still try to act like his friend after everything? Tony couldn't comprehend it, couldn't understand why Steve would pretend like they were still friends.

They weren't, not as far as Tony was concerned, and he knew he had to forget what had happened today and focus on the task ahead; getting the permission to free the rest of the Avengers was going to be difficult, and he knew it would be contingent upon them signing the Accords.

That might be the hardest part, if their stubbornness was anything close to Rogers, and Tony knew that some of them could be. Otherwise they never would have been in the mess they were in to begin with, they'd be at home where they belonged.

Sighing, Tony poured himself another drink, getting a hold on his emotions after the day was difficult. His mind raced from one ordeal to the other, from his parents death, to Captain America and the Winter Soldier, to the Avengers, to the Accords.

Even back to Afghanistan, back to New York, back to Sokovia, Charles Spencer, Ultron, Wanda's nightmare, Pepper, everything, all at once. He was practically reeling as his mind raced and he struggled not to hyperventilate.

He knew in his mind he was likely having a panic attack, he had had them before, but he didn't want to admit to it.

He didn't want to admit that his PTSD still afflicted him, didn't want to admit that he had a problem, but when he was at his weakest it plagued him without mercy. He didn't have time for this non-sense, but it didn't stop, wouldn't stop, would never stop, and that's all he could think about as he clutched his chest, feeling his heart violently race.

He tried to pull in as many breaths as he could, but he felt as if he were suffocating, and maybe he actually was under the weight of it all.

His hand trembled violently as he tried to pour another drink, tried to root himself in the present and not let go of it. As the alcohol began to work its way into his system, finally, he could feel the anxiety slowly ease and felt relieved.

It meant that he wouldn't be able to focus on the task at hand very easily, but there was time for that tomorrow, so long as he didn't have to endure his mind attacking him anymore. He was willing to sacrifice a day for the sake of his sanity, and hopefully in the morning things would look better than they did now.

Because right now, everything looked incredibly dim in the mind of the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

"Boss, are you alright?" F.R.I.D.A.Y's electronic voice echoed through the compound, and Tony noticed with amusement that she sounded concerned, it was a good decision to install her here too.

It was funny that his AI was able to display emotion so easily, though he had designed them, it still caused pride to flood his chest when he heard how human they sounded. He had done a good job, he should congratulate himself with more alcohol.

"Mm fine, F.R.I.D.A.Y," he muttered, his voice becoming slurred.

"Are you sure? That was quite the fight with Captain Rogers," the AI pushed lightly, and Tony found himself snickering.

"Stars-n'-stripes does pack quite'a punch, but I'm better," he said haughtily, "I won, didn't I? I even took his shield back, my father made that shield. I should get to keep it, don't you think?"

"You won with my help, sir," the irritation wasn't lost on the drunk man, who laughed outright, but the AI seemed to ignore the comment about the shield. Perhaps rightly so, Tony didn't want a response anyway.

"What would I do without you, F.R.I.D.A.Y?"

"I can't imagine."

Laughing again, Tony sunk down in his chair, drunken amusement flooding his system. It was really the last thing that he registered before finally succumbing to the alcohol, and passing out soundly in his chair. Tomorrow would be another day, tomorrow he would pull himself together and he would deal with things, but for now, blissful unconsciousness adsorbed him and he was grateful for it.