It was a hellish day in the middle of winter when he killed a bus full of people.
It wasn't on purpose, because he would never, ever, do anything like that. But when it was the midst of a battle with giant rock monsters, and he only had one missile left, it sure as hell felt like he killed them when he had to choose between two targets: the rock monster that was headed for the elementary school, or the one that was aiming for the bus.
He chose. He chose and in that second, condemned those people to die. He essentially killed them, and he knew that everyone else on the team was aware of that. Because Steve was yelling in his ear about the bus, and Natasha was running into the line of fire to do something, anything, but no one else saw what Tony did, that the school was about to be crushed.
So he made his decision and killed a bus full of people. And maybe he saved a school full of children, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it.
The battle was essentially over after that, because as soon as the rock monster crushed the bus, Thor arrived from Asgard and dealt it a final blow with his hammer.
But the damage was done.
Rescue crews showed up, and they were dismissed from the scene as they started combing for survivors. Tony knew they would only find bodies.
He headed back to the Tower, not waiting for anyone else. Not wanting to speak to any of them, to have them judge him. After all, he was doing enough of that already.
Tony sat through the debrief in the kitchen silently. They used to hold them at SHIELD, but when everyone moved in, there was no point. The Tower had food, and it had all the Avengers, making it the logical place for meetings, especially post-battle, when all that everyone wanted to do consisted of showering and sleeping.
Tony was inclined to neither at the moment, going over ways to repair the suit in his head.
When Steve dismissed everyone else, he held a hand up to hold Tony back.
"Oui, mon Capitane?"
Steve blinked at that, before shaking his head. "Did you have anything to add to the events of what happened?"
Tony attempted to smile. "I think it was fairly self explanatory what happened. I didn't feel the need to go over it again in detail."
Steve practically radiated disapproval. "People died, Tony."
Tony nodded, once, sharply. "I know. I was there, remember?" My finger on the trigger, basically.
He stood up to leave, more than done with the conversation. He smirked at Steve, because he didn't know what else to do, and it was familiar on his face, and maybe if there was something familiar he wouldn't have the urge to start bawling in front of this man.
"Do you feel none of this?" Steve demanded, and Tony wanted to laugh. Because honestly, it was a funny question, and he knew that Steve meant emotionally, which of course he did, it hurt him more than a knife wound ever could, and yet, no he couldn't feel any of it, and he would let Steve in on the joke if he wasn't sure it would get him benched.
Instead he just rolled his eyes and made to move away, and Steve caught his arm.
"Tony," he said sharply.
Tony tugged away, but there was no give in his grasp.
"Steve," Tony said, exasperated. "I'm not heartless. This is just how I cope. Bruce meditates, Natasha shoots things, Clint shoots things and hides in vents, Thor goes to see Jane, you destroy innocent punching bags, and me? Well, I joke and try to pretend I don't care. But I do. Let go of me," he ordered, and Steve obeyed, perhaps in shock.
Tony grimaced at the imagined pain, and stalked off to his workshop, because surely he could do something to prevent the events of the day ever repeating themselves.
When Tony glanced over his body that night, the beginnings of a bruise on his upper arm was present, in the shape of a very familiar hand.
Tony would have rubbed it in his face if he wasn't so sure it would destroy him, and even he can't handle a broken Captain America.