The mission had started and Steve still hadn't met Tony Stark or Clint Barton. He'd met Natasha and Bruce on the landing strip when Coulson had arrived with him. They seemed nice enough and he was eager to know what they could do in battle after hearing such good things. After many years of commanding a squad, he knew the importance in having the best team possible.

Tony Stark, on the other hand, had become anxious regarding their introductions as Coulson had practically delivered a 35 minute presentation on how Stark could sometimes be an ass (phrased a lot more democratically) and as a result, Tony, offended by Coulson's comparison between him and Steve, didn't want Steve involved with the team at all. Besides, Stark had practically been raised on Captain America hero worship from his dad so was just about sick of the man already. As far as he was aware, the man hadn't done anything to deserve their praise and respect.

—

Steve met up with the team and headed down to the lab for a quick catch up on Bruce's attempts to track down the tesseract. Steve hoped he could do it; the man deserved a win after everyone had just been talking about him turning into a giant green monster all day and the scientist had definitely heard what they had been saying. Steve had already decided that he liked the awkward and uncomfortable scientist as they had both faced adversity throughout their lives.

They entered the lab and proceeded to fall into an argument and Steve knew he'd regret participating in it later. Steve said stuff he knew he would regret and Stark gave just as good as he got. When the soldier finally left he felt like nothing had been sorted or established. The only thing he knew was that he didn't like Tony Stark and that Tony Stark didn't like him.

The comment Stark made about him being nothing more than some experiment hurt him but he didn't want to admit it. He'd never seen himself as a hero despite being labelled it many times by those during the war and the press of his day. He knew that Doctor Erskine chose him for more than just his desperate ituation but he'd never unpacked the reasons why.

Sitting on his bed, he peered down at his prosthetic leg as anger bubbled up in him. He balled his fist up and struck the metal which caused a cracking sound from the device. Steve had always wanted to do more, be more, help more but his amputation had taken him out from the field where he fought amongst his men. He'd been given the serum and bumped up to super soldier and never saw his team again. He didn't even know if they were still alive. Maybe Stark was right, without the serum he would have been dead years ago from a surgery caused infection, nothing heroic. It was then that he reaffirmed that he would never claim the label of a hero.

All he was, in his eyes, was an injured soldier.

—

A week later-

The idea of a late night run had been close to genius as it helped him clear his mind and unwind. However, somewhere along the line something had gone terribly wrong and he was now lying on the tiled ground floor of Stark tower with only a handful of meters between him and the elevator.

The team had moved in only a week ago and Steve could tell that Stark didn't want to invite him but saw him as a side effect of having Bruce, Natasha and Clint. If he had any other option he wouldn't have moved in but, as a newbie to the 21st century, he had no choice.

It was gone 3am and Steve couldn't move from the floor. The cold of the tile was seeping through his sweats and chilling his flesh. Only a few hundred meters from the tower a sharp shooting pain radiated out from his amputation site. He'd experienced it before and had been told all about phantom pains after his surgery but this was unlike any he'd experienced before. It felt like he'd stepped on the mine all over again and his muscle had been torn from his shattered bone.

Tears streamed down his face and the only sound was hisses of pain and gasps as another spasm of hurt would hit him. They were unrelenting as they hit him in constant waves so he never had a chance to catch his breath between attacks. He'd managed to at least pull himself through the doors of the tower before it overwhelmed him completely. He continued dragging himself like an injured animal on his front for a few moments further until it was simply too much. He'd not managed to move any further since then and he'd gone past the hope of waiting to see if anyone would stumble across his spasming figure.

The security guard's desk was empty as the watchman must have been out on patrol. However, Steve had been in agonising pain for nearly 30 minutes and nobody had returned so the man doubted he'd be saved.

It was completely by chance that Tony Stark was just coming home after a very successful date; so successful that he wasn't getting home until nearly 3:30. He froze when he noticed what looked like a pile of clothes on the shiny floor of the lobby as his mind leapt around for possible explanations.

Steve couldn't hear the man edging forward over the intensity of the pain and only realised the other man's presence when an uncertain hand touched his shoulder. Unprepared for the contact, Steve jumped in surprise and it triggered a fresh wave of agony that sent him withering on the floor.

"Steve?" Unsure, Stark's voice lacked his usual cocky tone.

"Help," The soldier managed to vocalise through his clenched jaw. His face was red and veins were prominent on his forehead.

"I'll call an ambulance?"

"No!" Steve's hand grabbed the genius' wrist and, not realising how tightly he squeezed, begged, "Upstairs. Please."

Steve could feel Tony's arms around him and it took the large man a moment to realise he'd have to engage his legs, the most painful part, if he wanted to make it up to his room. A groan echoed against the shiny walls and floors, a sound that only just managed to escape the gritted teeth.

"What happened?" Tony enquired, his voice was quiet but, with him supporting Steve body, they were close for the soldier to hear him perfectly. Unfortunately, Steve opened his mouth to answer at the exact moment the foot of his prosthetic leg touched the ground: a controlled scream was Tony's only answer. Instead of pushing the matter he simply hurried their pace towards the elevator as panic sank into his stomach.

The journey up to Steve's floor felt like a decade as Tony watched the man engage in breathing techniques to stop himself from vomiting from the pain.

"I'll call a medic when we get up." Stark murmured, as he'd never seen someone in so much pain. They hadn't been on a mission in almost a week and it was the middle of the night so the genius couldn't figure out who or what had hurt the soldier. What he did know though was that something inside him wanted to crush whatever had hurt him.

The ding of the elevator opening was like sweet music to both their ears and within minutes Tony had settled Steve on the end of the nearly made double bed. He didn't have time to take in the room as he couldn't take his eyes off the man writhing in pain.

"What do you need? A doctor? Hospital? Shall I get Bruce?" Chaotically, Tony began hovering over the man in desperation.

Suddenly, mustering all of his energy Steve hauled himself up and pulled up his pant leg and ripped off his prosthetic. He threw it as hard as he could against the wall as a cry of pain ripped from his chest. The leg damaged the wall but neither man was in a position to pay attention to it.

Open mouthed and wide eyed, Stark stood stock still staring at Steve's scarred and damaged stump, "What the fuck. What the fuck? What the fuck?" His eyes flicked between the amputation and the twisted prosthetic leg that lay distorted on the carpeted floor.

The genius began pacing in circles as he waved his arms around repeating "what the fuck" like a mantra.

He'd always though that he knew Steve Rogers. He'd practically been raised on Captain America stories as a kid and had glamorised the man his whole life. How had his father not mentioned that Steve was an amputee? He was missing close to his whole leg and the genius had never even suspected a thing.

Tony's heart suddenly ached for the man. He knew phantom pains, knew what it was like to live with technology to assist your living. His own archreactor reminded him daily of what he went through all those years ago. Doubtless, Steve's amputation gave him physical pain and the emotional pain of being transported back to the trauma of it happening. Stark couldn't help but ponder how it happened.

"What the fuck." He continued.

Steve huffed out, "Not helping," in between ragged breaths.

"Do you need a doctor then?"

"No, only phantom pains." He barely managed to finish the sentence before groaning.

Stark nodded, his assessment had been correct. He held onto Steve and dragged the man up to the pillows and rested him there. It was hard work under the man's dead weight but he managed it. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched the suffering man carefully and anxiously.

"It'll be okay. You can get through this." Tony offered even though he knew that the words would mean nothing.