A month passes. Funerals are held within that time. Carol Danvers, Reed Richards, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, and Wanda Maximoff. All gone. No bodies were ever found, apart from Bruce's, who had been somehow killed by the cave-in in the mine.
Carol and Clint's were private affairs. The Avengers, a few X-Men who were in the battle, the remaining Four, and a few SHIELD and SWORD agents. They were quick, closed casket, their 'bodies' buried in official government cemeteries.
Bruce had donated his body to science, to further the research on the Hulk and gamma radiation. He hadn't wanted a funeral and so there was none.
Wanda was taken care of by Professor Xavier and the X-Men, gravestone placed in the garden of the Institute.
Reed's was difficult and draining. Many people came, superheroes, agents, members of the scientific community, Reed's colleagues. It was a private thing, no paparazzi, no FF fans. Sue held Franklin as he cried for his father, Johnny held Sue as she cried for her husbands, him and Ben grieving for their friend and teammate.
Peter's was the worst. Not long after the fight it became public that Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one. Friends from school, Harry, MJ, and Gwen all cried and grieved together. Ava, Luke, Danny, and Sam all wept for their fallen leader.
Hank Pym became distraught over what his creation had done. He tortured himself night and day with the knowledge that his invention had lead to the death of so many civilians, Avengers, and the only son of his closest friends. Him and Janet grew further apart. One day if became too much for Hank, and he left he Avengers, leaving Janet and the Ant-Man armor behind with a simple note of "I'm sorry."
His suicide was another strike that no one could handle.
The Avengers mourned the loss of their family members, but none as much as Steve and Tony.
Tony was distraught. Wrecked with grief. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, and he didn't work. Nothing that anyone did made things any better. He turned to alcohol, an old comfort, to rid the pain. It never worked. If anything it made his feelings worse.
Steve was an angry mess. He wanted the metaphorical blood of his son's killer on his hands. He wanted revenge: he wanted to see the end of Ultron and everything he was. And he would stop at nothing to avenge the death of his baby boy.
Everything got worse over the next six months.
Not a word from Ultron. Doom, Venom, Kree and other aliens, anything you could think of all came and went, and the Avengers dealt with it as always.
About two months after the funerals things changed for the Avengers.
"I'd like everyone to meet Jessica Drew, Katherine Bishop, and Jennifer Walters. Codenames... Spider-Woman, Hawkeye II, and She-Hulk."
Everyone stared at the three standing next to Cap, looking at Steve as if he'd lost his mind.
Jessica Drew was a tall woman, with black hair, wearing a red and gold body suit with a red, gold, and black mask over her eyes.
Katherine Bishop they knew, from her time as an "understudy" to Clint. She wore the usual black and purple outfit, hoisting Clint's bow.
Jennifer Walters was a sight to see. Incredibly tall, muscular, black haired, green skinned woman. They knew her to be the cousin of Bruce.
"They're going to be replacing empty positions on the Avengers Initiative."
"Um, Cap?" Logan grumbled from the corner. "There were only two open positions... Last I checked."
"Iron Man has been benched for an undetermined amount of time," Steve spoke softly, looking towards the floor. "He was caught intoxicated on the job and it was decided that for the best interests of the team he be removed for the time being. He's a liability... Until he gets out from his... Until he's... Until he's ready... Iron Man is no longer an Avenger."
Tony had taken being benched extremely well. He began working again, if only to build new weapons and armor for the team to use.
Steve disapproved. Tony was always drunk, reverting back to his alcoholic ways. He argued to Steve that he had always done his best work drunk or intoxicated. Or under pressure. Or emotional distress. All of which he was feeling.
He and Steve argued more now than ever. Before, they traded quips back and forth, affectionate arguments that they never really meant. It was just how they showed their feelings for each other. Now it was real. It was angry. It was violent and ugly and almost always ended up in threats. Tony didn't approve of Steve's suicide missions. Steve didn't approve of Tony's self destruction.
"I'm always careful, Tony."
"No! No you're not! You're always gone! Looking for another enemy to fight, another villain to interrogate about the whereabouts of Ultron, any sign or indication of where he might be!"
"Because I want-"
"You want what? What is it that you want? You want to fight? You want to kill him? Do you want to die?!"
"Oh, that's rich-"
"No, it's not rich, it's the fucking truth! You know Ultron, you've fought him before! No matter what we do, no matter how many times we defeat him he always comes back! And not only that, but he always comes back stronger than before! We thought once we had defeated him but look what happened! He came back, not only stronger than before but smarter too! He took over our com systems, he shut down the Vision, and took over mine and Sam's armor. And we thought we had the power to beat him. And look how that turned out for us!"
"I'm not going to sit back while our son-"
"OUR SON IS DEAD, STEVE!"
"But what if he's-"
"Not? What if he's not? You saw it! You witnessed it with your own eyes. He hit Peter with that same ray that destroyed your shield and every other Avenger he killed. And you think that our son, our seventeen year old inexperienced son, would survive that?! He's gone, Steve. Give up on this dream. It's over. We lost."
Tony feared for months that one day Steve would leave on his "missions" and never return. He'd already lost his son, he wasn't about to loose Steve as well.
He wouldn't sit and watch Steve work himself ragged over a pipe dream. And Steve couldn't sit and watch Tony waste away while he could be doing everything in his power to avenge his son.
One day it all became too much.
Logan, Kate, and Hank McCoy walked in the mansions kitchen to see Tony, sitting at the counter, an empty and half full bottle of vodka by his side, an empty tumbler in his hand.
"Tony," Hank sounded surprised. "What are you-"
"He's gone."
They froze. No one knew that to say. Kate stepped forward.
"Tony... Who's gone?"
"Steve."
"Wait, you mean he-"
"No, Howlett, he's not dead. Not yet anyway."
"Then what do you mean he's-"
"He upped and packed his bags. And he left. He said to be sure to tell you that he's still going to lead the team, just not from the mansion."
"Why did he leave?"
"I'm not doing this any more Tony. I'm done. I'm leaving."
"Why? Because I told you to stop trying I kill yourself?"
"Because you are giving up. And I'm not. I don't want to do this right now, Tony."
"This again? Are you kidding me?! He's dead, Steve. Give it up."
"And that's why I'm leaving."
"Why, because I don't agree with your useless suicide missions."
"Because I obviously care more about him than you do."
"I don't know, Hank."
"Fuck you, Captain. I hope you go to hell."
Steve looked him in the eye as he opened the door. "If that's what it takes."
"But honestly, at this point, I'm not sure if I care."
That had been two months ago. Tony hadn't talked to Steve since.
Things had changed for the Avengers in the past six months. And not exactly for the better.