On a particularly dreary Wednesday morning, Steve found himself at the gym. This was not uncommon, as the blond man came here often to blow off steam. Nor was it uncommon that there were six punching bags lying defeated in the corner, their contents spilled over the polished wood floor.

What was uncommon, however, was that Steve had neglected to cover his knuckles with tape. Raw, angry and bleeding flesh was the result of this decision, but the hero barely noticed a thing. The pain encouraged him. It made the nightmare a little easier to forget.

It started off as usual - the battle of New York was coming to its end, and the Chitauri were dropping dead at the Avengers' feet. Tony had just realized that S.H.I.E.L.D's missile was heading straight for the city and he was en route to deter its path. He would send it flying into space, where it would explode but no civilians would be harmed.

Steve heard himself speak, but he hadn't made it happen. He was a prisoner in this memory, in this dream.

"Stark, you know that's a one way trip."

Tony responded with a joke, but the Captain could hear the unease in his voice. The Iron Man seemed to believe, too, that he would not be coming back.

Steve's heart was pumping in his chest as he watched Tony disappear through the atmosphere, heard the crackling in his earpiece as the billionaire's disconnected from the set. Panic set into both of them.

Just like he had done that fateful day, Steve closed his eyes and began to pray to the God he believed in.

Please make it. We need you, Tony. You're an arrogant bastard but you're smart as a whip and we couldn't have won this thing without you. Please come back.

Low and behold, Tony did come back. Natasha's cry of surprise made Steve's eyes shoot open again, and it wasn't long before they were focused on the Iron Man's descending body. He was getting closer now, but something seemed to be wrong.

"He's not slowing down." Thor said at the same time that the Captain thought it. He watched helplessly, his body refusing to move from his spot. It seemed that the others were in the same position.

Suddenly, he saw the Hulk out of the corner of his eye. This was different, as in his other nightmares Banner was always startlingly absent. But here he was, running forward to catch Tony, and Steve was beginning to think the beast might actually reach him in time.

But God, he was just a fraction of a second too late. The moment Tony hit the ground, the other Avengers disappeared. The hero's metal body shattered beautifully, sending bits and pieces of aluminum everywhere like a rainstorm. Steve felt something sticky on his face, and didn't have to reach up to know it was blood. His stomach gave a nauseous leap.

Suddenly he could move again. Captain America ran forward and collapsed to his knees next to Tony, who was a mess of blood and metal and even bones. The arc reactor was gone; blood was pouring out of the open hole in his chest.

Miraculously, Tony was speaking. Red liquid oozed from his mouth with every strained syllable.

"Steve, I love you," He was saying, brown eyes glassy with tears. "I'm sorry for everything. P-Please forgive me...for not telling you sooner..."

The Captain opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't get a chance to. Tony's mouth opened all the way, splitting the sides of it, and he screamed a sound so piercing that it had somehow woken Steve up.

He remembered this last detail of the nightmare now as he sent the seventh punching bag soaring across the room, sand erupting from it as it smashed against the wall.

"That's gonna be a bitch to clean up."

Steve started at the sound of the voice and spun around, ready to fight. He was met with the sight of none other than Tony Stark, hands raised in surrender.

"Whoa, there," The brunet said in defense, though not moving from his spot. "Just me, Capsicle."

There was that damn racing of his heart again, although this time Steve chalked it down to the scare he'd just been given. The adrenaline, too.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, panting as he wiped sweat from his brow.

"Fury needs us." Tony said, as though it were obvious. He crossed the room over to the pile of destroyed punching bags, surveying them with a frown on his face. "Remind me not to piss you off, okay?"

The soldier exhaled, a sort of dry laugh escaping his throat. "Sorry. I'll clean this up."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, Jarvis'll do it. Won't you, big man?"

The AI's voice sounded above them in agreement, and foolishly Steve looked up. As if he'd see anything.

"See?" Tony said with a cheeky grin, and then motioned for the door. "Let's go. I'm stopping at Burger King on the way. You hungry?"

"Not really." Steve answered, and then winced as he felt a pain in his knuckles. He looked down only to be greeted with the raw flesh. "Shit."

"You okay?" The other hero asked, brow furrowing in what Steve thought to resemble concern. "You don't seem like you're on your A-game."

"Fine." He breathed, stretching out his fingers and then rolling them back into fists. Anything but, actually, Steve thought to himself.

Tony didn't look convinced, but he knew better than anyone else (with the exception of Bruce, of course) to not press someone. It only escalated things, only made them worse.

"If you say so," He shrugged, pressing the button to call the elevator. "Anyway..."

Tony began to fill him in on the mission, but Steve for once wasn't listening. Instead, he was staring at Tony's chest, at the spot where he used to be able to see the faint, blue glow of the arc reactor through his light t-shirt, pulsing strong and steady. Only recently had Tony gotten it removed, along with the shrapnel that circled his heart for the longest time.

That fact along should have made the nightmares easier to deal with, but it didn't.

He followed the man along quietly, wounded hands still shaking.

This has to stop, now.