Tony was back in his workshop, eyes closed and taking deep breaths; he was rattling off the Fibonacci sequence in a feeble attempt to calm his mind. Though he had practically sprinted away from Steve, Tony realized he could actually count the interaction as a win—Tony hadn't had a flash back or anything.

It was a low bar to have set, but a small victory was a victory nonetheless.

"Boss, Steve is coming your way, should I initiate a lockdown protocol?" And just like that, all the time that Tony had spent steadying his breathing was for nothing. His breath returned to rapid and shallow intakes.

He croaked out a yes and Friday locked all of the workshop doors just as Steve came into view, Looking as perfect as ever, Tony thought. He slapped on a carefree smile and pretended to be surprised at Steve's presence. He was already feeling calmer now that he knew Steve could only come in if Tony allowed it. "I wonder what he wants" Tony muttered, his curiosity peaking.

Steve rapped his knuckles on the glass door. "Patch him through, Friday."

Steve's voice crackled over the sound system, making Steve sound like he was right next to tony. "Uh, hi Tony." Steve sounded unsure of himself, "Can I talk to you?"

Tony got up and walked slowly to the glass door. He stopped a few feet away and locked his eyes with Steve's. "Sure thing, Cap." His words sounded more lighthearted than his thoughts.

When it was clear that Tony wasn't going to open the door, Steve's whole persona slumped as a wave of sadness overtook him. What happened to him that he feels the need to hide away all the time?Instead of asking Tony that, he simply said,"Can you do something for me?"

Tony was taken aback at the request, but decided to play it safe with some sarcasm—his usual first line of defense. "I usually don't do what I'm told, but I might do what you want if you ask nicely." He plastered on a grin to hide his true emotions.

Steve noticed Tony's smile, that had come out as more of a grimace, and the effort that went behind it. A fake smile, but he is beautiful nonetheless.Steve offered a weak smile in return and asked Tony something he was desperate to know: "Can you tell me that you're okay? Honestly?"

No Tony thought. "Yes." Tony answered. As if things were that simple.

Steve just stared at Tony, his eyes held sad disbelief. Tony sighed and threw his hands out in exasperation. "I'm fine Steve. Nothing here is out of the ordinary: I work too much, I sleep too little. I invent and I repeat. Nothing I haven't been doing for years."

Steve's eyes narrowed, trying to discern if Tony was being sincere. "I can't tell if you're lying or joking."

"And I can't tell if you're an idiot or an idiot."

Steve wasn't amused."Does it get tiring?"

"What?"

"Always thinking you're right."

Tony smiled. "No, not really. It's other people not realizing I'm right that gets tiring."

Their words hung in the air heavily, despite the seemingly light banter. Each man was surrounded by a fog of emotions, each too stubborn to give in and just say how they felt.

Instead, Tony sought something else. "It's my turn to ask a question, Cap."

Before Steve could reply Tony was already speaking, "Why didn't you tell me?" He didn't have to tell Steve he was talking about his parent's death.

"I didn't want to hurt you." Steve looked ashamed, as if he was admitting a weakness. "I needed to protect you."

"Better terrible truths than kind lies." Tony shot back quickly, but Steve only nodded slowly, avoiding Tony's hard gaze. His response made Tony feel bad for Steve.

If anyone knew how trying to protect people could lead to damage, it was Tony.

A charged silence encompassed the both of them. They both studied one another while avoiding making eye contact. Each man trying to figure out what the other wanted. Each man not knowing what they wanted themselves.

Steve's eyes had fallen. He looks like a wounded puppy, Tony thought. I should put him out of his misery. Tony granted Steve some pity: "I don't hate you."

Steve's head snapped up, relief flooding his expression. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that—"

"I wish I could hate you," Tony interrupted. His voice was light for what he was saying, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half grimace, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I—"

Steve's hands had grown numb with their grip on the hem of his shirt. "And you what?"

"What do you think?" Tony shook his head. "I can't forget our past. And I can't look at you without remembering everything. Every time I'm with you it's like banging my head on awall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop."

Steve's lips trembled so violently that he found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" he demanded.

Tony cut him off before he could continue: "Easy for you?" his exasperation grew. "Because of you, I can't trust the people I care about not to hurt me." His voice dropped in volume: "And I'm not sure I can trust myself not to hurt them, either."

Steve's eyes widened. "I never knew."

But Tony was turning away. How could you know? You abandoned me. "Steve, I think it's time for you to go. Let's just stay out of each other's way. It will be easier for everyone." His heart broke a little more with each word, solitude filling each crack.

I fear being alone more than anything else. So why do I do this? Why do I push away the people I love? What is so very wrong with me?

Steve wouldn't give up that easily. "Since I've met you, everything I've done has been in part because of you. I can't untie myself from you, Tony—not my heart or my blood or my mind or any other part of me. And I don't want to."

Tony almost broke down right there. I don't want you to either, Steve. He wanted to cry out "Help me Steve." He wanted to scream, "Don't let me do this to myself." Tony turned so that he was facing Steve, trying to speak words that wouldn't come.

Because Tony had only been hurt every time he opened his heart to someone. The only way to survive, was to erase his emotions. So he folded them away, one by one. His sorrow turned to anger and then to ice-cold fury. His soul curled in on itself. He was gone. He was truly gone.

"You had no problem leaving me behind before, Steve."

Steve flinched. "I know I screwed up Tony. But I thought I was doing what was right." His words were coming quickly now, frantically searching for a way in to Tony's heart. "I really thought I was doing the right thing, Tony. You've got to believe me." He was practically begging now. "And I may have been blind to any type of compromise, but—"

"May have?" Tony asked incredulously, voice rising in frustration. "I tried to talk to you! I tried to help you!" He took a deep breath and lowered his volume. "We were supposed to protect people—together. We were supposed to have each other's backs. And you threw that all away for one man."

Steve opened his mouth to yell, to make Tony understand that he had only been fighting for what he believed in. That he had learned and knew better now. But the words didn't come, and part of Steve was thankful: he didn't want another fight.

He was so tired of fighting.

Steve had come down here for a peace offering, but it was quickly spinning out of control. He needed to leave. "Fine," Steve said with a weary shrug. "Make me your villain."

Tony watched as Steve's defeated form climbed up the stairs. He kept replaying Steve's words in his head: "I thought I was doing what was right."

The words echoed through the empty space that Tony isolated himself in. Wasn't that what we were all doing? Fighting for something we believed in, for somewhat we thought was the best way through a bad situation?

"But what is right anymore?" Tony muttered out loud, hopeless confusion tore through his thoughts. His left arm was aching and he tried to cling onto the pain as a way to stay anchored in the present. Instead, his mind flew back to the first time he had met Cap:

Tony had once been fascinated by the legend of Captain America—all the stories he'd heard from his dad before Tony had met him. Now, Tony felt that same sense of fascination returning. Now, he would be meeting the man in person, and though he would never show it, he was scared and nervous.

Tony shook his head harshly, Tony did not want to relive the moment where his childhood hopes were crushed. He had grown up idolizing Captain America as the role model Howard never was. And despite realizing that his childhood hero thought little of him—despite everything they had been through—Tony still wanted Steve. Still needed him.

And it scared Tony more than anything before. Because he couldn't understand why.