The Bitter Suite

Chapter Seven

Authors notes: Sorry for the long time between updates, like I said on chapter 6 working really long hours at the moment. I work in a school wear shop so July and august are my busy times and I have not been very well.

PLEASE don't stake me for the ending, I promise chapter 8 is almost ready!

Steve had fallen asleep, his head stuck in some book about science, the third bottle of whisky having finally lulled him into a light slumber. It took a lot to get him drunk since the operation, but it was just about possible if he tried hard enough and the drink was strong enough. Usually left him with Absolut vodka or scotch, and he wasn't fond of either, but needs must.

He dreamed of Peggy and of Bucky and of Howard and everyone he had left behind. The life he had lost, the life which still haunted him. The battles that he could never forget. He'd never been a soldier, just an experiment gone slightly wrong, they hadn't bothered training him, giving him the tools he needed to keep his head. Hell it had been war time, no one had had any real training, just this is a gun go shoot it. He didn't know how to cope, how to survive in war. He was a good man, and a fine soldier, but he was a broken human being.

He saw the plain crashing yet again in his nightmares, felt the chilling touch of the icy cold water surrounding his body as the ship sunk further into the ice plains. That was where the serum had been a disadvantage, it had kept him alive longer then it would have any other human being. He'd been aware of his body shutting down, of slowly drowning as the water filled his lungs, and although he'd never admit it he had been terrified. His eyes had fluttered closed as exposure was shutting down his vital functions, he tried to think of Peggy. To have one pleasant memory to fill his mind, as he died.

Steve shot upright screaming, covered in sweat from his nightmares. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the present. Trying to relax his thoughts, to bring back the icy calm that was his usual slightly fake persona. It was a fruitless task, he had lost the 'Zen' part of himself when he had lost Tony. The nightmares clawing at him worse then ever before, battering down what few defences he ahd left against the rising panic in his soul.

Taking another long swig from the whisky bottle, he stood up and dressed. Heading to the gym to try and work out some of his anger, some of this insanity lodged in his brain. With or without another couple of bottles added in to put him back to sleep. Whatever worked, he was almost ready to start the pills and drink cocktail he saw Tony down pretty much all the time, it certainly seemed to work for him.

As the third punching bag smashed, Steve sank to the ground shaking, the tears coming yet again, two empty bottles of whisky on the floor near his bag. Five bottles? That must have been one of his worse binges so far he noted somewhere in the part of his mind that was actually concerned about his actions. Very small though that it was, the rest of his mind couldn't care less anymore as long as he survived. He was Captain America after all, he had to live on!

He knew that he was sick, he had shell shock or PTSS or whatever the hell it was called now. The slightest thing bringing back dark thoughts and memories. The cold, hearing running water, washing his hair or whenever he was underwater, hell even being on a plane again. They were all triggers that made him want to crawl under is bed and die, but he fought on as best he could. Even in this strange new world, for it was his duty to do so. Duty was all he had left now, orders, just following orders that he could do.

Now without even that small comfort to hide behind he was so very lost and afraid. Steve didn't know what to do with himself. He certainly didn't know enough about this modern world to even attempt to gain a job nor live a normal life. All he wanted to do was to go home, back to where things made sense again. He knew that it could never happen, he could only go forward not back.

So he had tried to be good, tried to be strong, and then Tony had walked away from him, and he'd lost the will to fight on. Letting himself dip back into the depression he had tried so hard to escape from. Wondering if there was a way to finish things even with his regenerative powers?

Then as he was trying to work out a way that his body couldn't heal away in time, he heard a strange noise through the window. Looking down just in time too see Ironman land and drop his bike outside of the gym before flying away again. Captain belted down the stairs, flying out of the door to look at the bike.

It had been beautifully restored, rebuilt and painted up to match his suit in red, white and blue. Steve smiled for the first time in weeks as he ran his fingers over the paintwork. Picking up the note which only said one word, but it was all he needed to here. "Sorry." Was scrawled on the page in shaky hand writing, and an arrow pointed to the saddle bags on the back of the machine. Steve reached inside and pulled out a battered old notebook. He opened it in confusion and smiled at the contents, Tony had worked really hard on this. He was trying so hard to make things right, and suddenly the world seemed a much brighter place again. Steve stashed the book away to explore in detail later and took the bike for a test drive.

(* * *)

Tony gave the bike one last layer of lacquer to try and stop the paint from getting scratched. He looked it over with a critical eye to see if he had missed anything, he hoped not. He'd ruined Steve's bike, and now he would try and fix it as best he knew how. He knew damn well that that bike was the only thing that gave the man any pleasure in this strange new world. He'd even had Jarvis make up some leather saddlebags for it. He placed them on the back carefully, tying them tightly to the bodywork so they couldn't slip off. He'd even had the man's name written on it small script.

Tony pulled out the leather bound scrap book his father had kept about Steve Rogers, it was full of press cuttings, photographs, and even a diary of sorts of how Howard had searched for Steve. It was everything Howard Stark had ever found out about the Captain and all the experiments. The reason why he had never been there as a father, Tony had nearly destroyed the book a thousand times, hating his father for always picking Steve over him. Always telling him that he needed to be more like Steve!

He slipped it into the saddlebag with a small sigh of regret, perhaps it would help the man to survive his future if he could understand his past a little better. Tony had been over everything in that book constantly for the last week. Staring at that perfect face, trying to understand the exact nature of his feelings towards the blonde. He was lost, he knew that much. Every time those pale blue eyes looked at him, he melted. When they were apart he longed for them to be closer. When they were together he never wanted the moment to end. And that kiss?

He touched his lips faintly, remembering how it had felt. For that moment Tony hadn't cared if he was straight, gay or a fricking alien. That man was one hell of a kisser! Thank god they had been interrupted or who knew where that kiss would have led! More then likely to something the tabloids would have found most interesting. Or had he wanted it to turn into something more?

Tony sighed, he's head hurt and it wasn't just from the whisky. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew that he would rather ruin his own useless life then hurt Rogers. He swore it to himself there and then that Captain Steve Rogers had been through more then enough already for twenty lives, and he would cause him no further pain. He would walk away, be the bigger man and take the soul destroying pain all alone.

Before Tony went, he had some unfinished business, and for that he needed the

Suit. He swore at Jarvis to help him put it on over and over again, constantly ignored.

"Sir, you are more then double the legal limit of alcohol in your blood stream. I strongly advise that you change your mind about this venture." Jarvis commented as he refused for the millionth time.

"Jarvis, do I really need to start threatening you again?" tony asked, "Or can we just skip to where you give up fighting and actually bother doing what you were programmed to do? Do I need to build myself a fresh computer that actually obeys my commands?"

"Yes you do Sir," Jarvis stated flatly, "For you would have to be alive long enough to see the completion of its building and programming."

"Shut it wise ass!" Tony said still struggling drunkenly with the suit.

The silence was heavy between them for long moments, before Jarvis spoke again. "I will help you." He said softly, fitting the suit together carefully around his creator.

"Thank you." Tony said quietly as the machine fitted his helmet in place.

"Sir?" Jarvis asked.

"What now?" Tony asked, checking the suit was firing up as it should do.

"I would miss you sir, should you….." the computer stated.

Stark softened, and stroked one of the panels on the wall nearby to comfort the computer. "Thank you Jarvis." He answered, he'd built the damn thing too damn smart, too damn emotional.

"You are so very welcome sir."

Stark arrived outside of the gym, he knew Rogers used so often. Dropping the bike down softly and starting it up to make sure it worked right. He heard a noise from upstairs and saw Steve looking out of the window at him. The boy looked terrible, sunken hollow face, eyes red from crying, and slim far too slim like he hadn't had a good meal in far too long. Even so, just seeing him for a moment was enough to leave Stark feeling warm and fuzzy inside. He wanted to run up those stairs and kiss him like he'd never been kissed before. The head left the window, and he knew that Steve would be moments running down the stairs before they were together. Tony couldn't face him, if he did, if they touched one more time. Hell if Steve even looked at him in the wrong way, Tony would be lost forever. He'd never be able to do what he had to do, so save Steve anymore pain. He shot up in the sky, far enough that he couldn't be seen and watched as Steve explored the bike.

The captain found the book after a few moments and flicked through the pages. His face lit up at the sight of a photo of him and Howard together. Tony smiled, he had done the right thing for the first time in his life. He'd made the other man so happy, in a few moments. He looked different, so different in the way he held himself, the way he stood. There was a confidence there that he'd been missing for a long time, far too long.

Tony ended up at the crash site, peeling his suit off and returning it to the travel case. He walked across to the edge of the cliff, looking down at the ruined blackened earth below. He saw a tattered piece of Steve's jacket hanging loosely on a branch half way down. Saw the blood splattered on the rocks below. His mind went back to the crash, Steve's cries as he had tried to pull him free.

Tony closed his eyes trying to blot out the memory, expunge it from his mind. He certainly needed another drink, or maybe another dozen to try and recover from the images in his head. He hadn't quite decided exactly on his means of death. It was more then likely going to be a mixture of drugs and drink, something painless, stress free and easy. Tony wasn't a big fan of pain, not since he was tortured. He couldn't image cutting himself, or shooting himself in the head. Too much mess, he knew he could be a diva, but he for once didn't want any attention. He'd even thought about removing the arc reactor and letting the metal hit is heart, but again too painful.

It would be so simple, so easy to just take those extra few steps. To end up smashed to pieces on the same rocks which had nearly taken Steve from him. It was almost poetic in a sick and twisted way. Like a dark Romeo and Juliet, with blood and rocks instead of poison and daggers. And hopefully without Steve taking the high jump as well. It was all for nothing if he did, and Tony wasn't about the unneeded sacrifice play.

Tony edged up to the foot of the cliff, and took a deep breath. He had to remember he was doing this for Steve, not himself. He needed to be less selfish, he couldn't hurt that sweet and gentle soul. This was the only answer he had left to him, as much as he hated the thought of it. He was tired, tired of living, of suffering, of pain, of loss. He'd always been useless in life, maybe in death he would be remembered more fondly.

He dangled one leg over the edge of the cliff, trying it out like a normal person would try out a new suit. Then with a smiled and a final thought to the beloved man he was leaving behind Tony jumped.

"TONY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he thought he heard Steve screaming, but it couldn't be, he was miles away….Wasn't he?