Tony spent as much of the following week in his workshop as he could. When he wasn't there, he was busying himself doing other things, anything he could to avoid another confrontation with good old Captain America.

It appeared the easiest way to do that was to avoid him all together.

Thankfully Steve had removed himself from his quarters and returned to his own. Tony hadn't had to deal with that, he didn't even need to ask. He hadn't seen the man since their last fight, and F.R.I.D.A.Y had offered no updates so he could only assume that the man wasn't dead yet.

He tried not to put too much thought into it, life since the Accords had been stressful, to say the least. The last thing Tony wanted or needed to be doing was dwelling on how Steve Rogers was. He was here, he was safe, and that was enough.

"Hey, Tony, how's it going?" The voice caught Tony off guard and he jolted a bit, whipping around to see the man leaning in the doorway.

For some reason, Clint Barton had become unusually clingy over the past few weeks, it was rare a day went by when the man didn't check on him. It was endearing, but it still startled him when the spy appeared from no where.

"Geez, super spy, you're going to give me a heart attack one day," Tony groused at the man.

"You have a heart?" The archer teased, "I thought you told me you didn't."

"Ah, right," Tony conceded, rolling his eyes, "that's true. What are you doing down here this time, Legolas?"

"I'm not going to lie, you're not going to like it," Clint confessed, his voice laced with hesitance. "In fact, you might threaten to throw me off the compound again."

Tony's stomach knotted around itself and he drew a sigh out from his lips, rubbing his temples. He already knew what was coming before the man said it.

"This is about Cap, right?" He groaned, a knowing expression crossing his face as he looked over at the man.

Clint shifted, an usual expression dancing across his face as he looked at Tony with uncertainty. "Might be," he agreed, shrugging his shoulders absently.

"Look Clint," Tony started, wary, "I've had enough of him. I brought him home, he's here, what more do you want me to do?"

"You don't understand," Clint blurted, his brow creasing as he looked up at Tony, concern clear on his features. "He's here, you're right, sort of. In a way, he almost... isn't here."

Confusion crossed Tony's face as he studied Clint, tilting his head to the side as he stepped away from his work bench to offer the man his full attention.

"What do you mean he's here but he isn't here?"

"He's distant, more distant than I've ever seen him," Clint emphasized. "He's always been one of the last people to tell you how he was actually feeling, but this is different, it's worse."

"How is it worse?" Tony questioned, his tone serious.

"Well, he's not saying much of anything at all, to anyone. He never told us exactly what happened. He won't train with us, doesn't talk to us, nothing and it's disconcerting. He isn't even eating like he should, he hasn't gained back much weight since being home, and it's been a few weeks. I mean of course he's not going to be back to normal, but he should be getting better by now, don't you think?"

"Why are you telling me?" Tony asked, frowning and shaking his head. "Capsicle and I aren't exactly on the best of terms right now, what am I supposed to do?"

"Tony," Clint trailed for a second, sighing, "look, I think that may be something that's bothering him. It almost seems like he's grieving, and everyone thinks that it has something to do with you."

Tony made a snorting sound, a dry and sarcastic laugh catching in his throat. "Believe me, Katniss, it has nothing to do with me. At least, it doesn't have to do with me directly."

"Really?" Clint said, eyeing him with a critical expression, "then you know something, what do you know?"

"Well if he's grieving, I know why, and it isn't over the loss of our friendship. Believe me, it wasn't much of a loss to him, especially since it never existed to begin with. He said so himself," Tony scowled.

A bewildered expression crossed Clint's face and he crossed his arms. "I don't understand, what are you talking about?"

"It's a long grueling story, I don't feel like hashing out the gory details," Tony insisted, "at any rate, it isn't because our friendship is dead."

"Then what is it?" Clint asked, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Look, there isn't anything I can do about Cap, Clint," Tony shrugged, turning his back on the man and letting out a silent sigh.

Clint stepped forward, his movement swift, as he reached out and grabbed Tony's shoulder in a firm but gentle grip.

"Tony, please? Can you at least try to talk to him? The rest of us have, you're the only one who hasn't and maybe you're the only one who would do any good."

"Can't see how I would," Tony remarked, stopping in his tracks and glancing over his shoulder at the archer. "It'll probably just end with us coming to blows, again, and that isn't good for anyone."

"Well don't let it," Clint stated, "exercise some patience for once! And if he says something that lights your fuse, don't stick around to blow up. No one else knows what to do, Tony, you can at least try, can't you?"

A deep sigh escaped Tony's lips as he rubbed his forehead gingerly, wishing he could massage the forming headache away. Worry danced around in his chest as his heart went to war with his mind, a war that usually his head won with ease.

Yet this time his head was having a difficult time winning out over his heart. The silent nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him that in reality this was all his fault refused to be silent. If Rogers was grieving over Bucky, well, he was to blame for that, wasn't he?

His mind screamed at him, it poured accusations on him, and he winced as the thoughts danced through his head. He was to blame for allowing Ross to experiment on Rogers for as long as he did. He was to blame for burning bridges every time that the man tried to build them. He was responsible for allowing all of this to go this far.

"Fine," he responded after a moment, nodding his head. "I'll try my best, but I don't know what good it will do."

"Thank you."

The sound of his punches landing on the bag reverberated around the gym. Steve's thoughts spun around and combined with the sound, creating a roaring in his ears.

Thoughts flashed through his mind at a thousand miles per hour as he vented his frustrations the only way that he knew how. He vaguely realized with amusement, that this was almost exactly how Fury had found him when he had been coming to him with the Avengers Initiative.

Everything was different now, so much had transpired since then and he felt all the worse for it, not better. He never imagined things could get worse than losing Bucky the first time, and then that horror melted into being frozen in ice for seventy years.

It was hard to top that, but somehow it seemed his life had done it. It had offered him his best friend back and then cruelly ripped him away, as if it had never happened at all. Any semblance of the life that he had been building in this new world had been torn from him as well. It left him behind trying to figure out what to do with all the shattered pieces.

With some pieces missing and others crushed beyond repair, life had left pieces that he no longer had the energy to try and put back together. Though at first he had tried, albeit halfheartedly.

He tried to rejoin the others, and despite the fact they had welcomed him with open arms, he found it difficult to do. He didn't want to burden them, and he knew they could tell that he wasn't himself. He could see the worry the others had for him on a daily basis, and it caused him to feel the need to isolate himself more, if only to spare them the concern.

They still tried, and he felt terrible for shutting them out, but it was difficult to see their pitying expressions every time they looked at him.

So the easiest thing to do was to start avoiding them all together, and that was much harder than it seemed. They sought him out, and they tried to lure him out of the shell he'd created around himself.

Who knew what they would try next to get him 'back to normal'?

"Hey soldier."

Startled, Steve hit the bag harder than he intended. His solid punch caused the chains that held the punching bag up to creak, though the bag remained firmly attached.

Steve looked over to see Tony, looking stiff and as jarred as he was, startled by the sound the punch had made.

"Geez, do I need to leave?" Tony questioned, looking at Steve.

"Oh, no, sorry, I..." Steve stammered, biting the inside of his lip, "you surprised me, that's all, I didn't hear you come in."

"Right," Tony responded, "I see the reinforcements I installed on that punching bag work well."

"They're a lot better than what I'm used to," Steve confessed, "they don't last very long outside of the Compound."

"Designed with you in mind, Cap," Tony smirked.

"Thank you," Steve responded, rubbing his neck a bit and shifting, feeling awkward. Uncertainty spread across his features.

"So, you still look like you've been hit by a truck and half starved to death, are you not coming down for food? Do you need me to send some stuff to your wing?" Tony grilled, eyeing the man. "Everyone is always getting on to me about eating regularly, looks like they need to be getting on to you."

"No, I'm fine," Steve said, keeping his tone even. So the others had sent him, he had suspected as much.

Tony looked at him with a dull, unbelieving expression, and rolled his eyes. "Rogers, you're anything but fine, don't try to play me."

"I'm not trying to play you," Steve said, his tone sounding rather distant.

Freezing, Tony looked at the man, frowning as he withdrew into himself. Steve felt more guilt rise in his chest at the sight of the man in front of him. If he were bad enough even Tony was upset with him, it was possible he was worse off than he thought.

"Cap, what's going on?" Tony asked, his tone genuine. It looked as if he were trying his best to maintain a cool and casual composure. "You look like death. You're not talking to the others, you're not even throwing yourself at my feet to apologize anymore. Seems out of character, don't you think?" Tony's smirk wasn't lost on Steve, but he chose to ignore it.

"I just..." Steve trailed, rolling his shoulders back and trying to release some of the tension that had built up there, "I don't want to talk about it, Tony."

"Well, maybe you should," Tony insisted, looking at the man dead on, a frown working its way across his face.

"Maybe I should," Steve admitted, nodding his head, "but I don't want to."

"Oh my gosh, you are so infuriating," Tony sighed dramatically, rubbing his forehead.

"To be fair, so are you, more so than me," Steve almost thought he could see a hint of a familiar smile tugging at the corner of Tony's lips. Either from the familiar banter, or the idea that he was infuriating as well, Steve couldn't tell.

"Well, not this time, I'm not, Cap," Tony pushed, looking at the man with a critical eye. "Come on, out with it, what's going on with you? Is it about Bucky?"

Steve's blood turned to ice at the mention of the name, and his body went stiff and ridged. "Tony," he breathed, shaking his head.

"What? You have to get it out in the open sometime, you can't bury it forever," Tony shrugged, rolling his eyes.

It was almost unbelievable, how callously Tony treated the situation when he had been the one to fire the blast. It seemed as if the man didn't have any regrets at all about the situation, and maybe the truth was he didn't.

"I just-" before Steve could continue the sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice broke through.

"Boss, you have another call from Secretary Ross, it sounds very urgent," the AI said.

"How urgent is urgent, F.R.I.D.A.Y?" Tony groaned, glancing towards the ceiling.

"It's about the super soldier attacks," F.R.I.D.A.Y responded.

"... tell him I'll be right there," Tony stated, looking back over at Steve and crossing his arms. "It looks like you're off the hook for now, but we're not done with this conversation, Cap, got it?"

"Of course we're not," Steve said, his tone dry.

The man turned and left the room, likely before he even heard the words that came out of the soldier's mouth. Leaving Steve feeling disappointed, but totally unsurprised.

After all, what more could he expect from the man who now hated him?

Authors Note:

I am so sorry for the long distance between last update and this one, I've been pretty tired lately so every time I try to write I kind of meh out of it and choose rest instead. So updates may just be farther apart, but never fear! They shall continue to come. ;P

This chapter didn't necessarily come out how I wanted, it's more of a filler chapter than anything else, but I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!