The bad news is, Iron Man joining the fray isn't enough a boost of firepower for what's coming. Osborn going literally green in the face and near-insane is nothing more than a fucking footnote on an odyssey in which the Sentry reigns supreme. Correction. The Void reigns supreme, and he tears Loki apart like cotton candy. Steve shoves the terror down his throat and fights – protects – for today is not a day worth surviving if he lets one more man fall when he could've done something about it.

Tony fights, too. Relentless in his antique of an armour. But it's there. The vigour, the spirit. The devil-may-care attitude Fury would've given him an earful for during debriefings – that still hasn't changed. Tony hijacks a Helicarrier and throws it into the Sentry's face – Steve suspects there was a woman on board when Tony reprogrammed the mainframe. It's not lethal enough, but it gives back Bob his heart, his memory of what it's like to be human and an Avenger.

His death… is merciful.

Before they cart Osborn into an idling armoured truck, Jessica strides past and punches him in the nose. "Should've done this from the very beginning," she huffs, and flings her dark hair over her shoulder. "Asshole." She winks at Steve, who seems determined to look at everywhere else but her. Steve is doing headcounts. Everybody wants a pat on the back, go home – but, he needs to make sure. "Hello? Earth to Steve?"

"Where's Tony?"

The Avengers – and by that, Steve means the ones who answered Captain America's call, meaning, the Anti-Reg and those who hate Tony Stark's guts – look like they're about to throw up, like something just died under their nose. They can't have forgotten about Tony Stark? He gets that they haven't fought and bled on the same team in a while. Out of sight, out of mind, some say.

"Tony?" Steve calls out, and immediately the chatters surrounding him die. Steve walks through the ranks of the Avengers, his pace erratic when he can't find that scowling, gold titanium alloy faceplate – Tony is rather fond of the design, says it intimidates the baddies really well –

"Tony! Dammit, anyone seen him?"

And Steve keeps searching. He does it alone. Tonight exemplifies how some wounds don't heal as fast. He suspects repealing the SHRA has a higher rate of success than getting Jessica or Luke or Peter – hell, everyone – to look at Tony in the eye, smile, all without the littlest desire to murder him the soonest he turns his back.

The wind changes direction, and the dust sweeps away. The air clears, and by the slabs of concrete and torn up tarmac, Iron Man stands in the distance. Steve runs, the edge of his shield digging into his tailbone with each step. The strap has loosened with time – Tony used to maintain it for him every other week, making sure it's taut and adjusted to the right height.

God, he misses Tony.

Gravel smashes into dust beneath his battle boots as he closes the gap. He has maybe four seconds top to think of what to follow up with after "It's good to see you, Tony" and for the life of him, he doesn't care. He smiles, as warm as the sun as if the bullets had never hit him on the steps to the courthouse.

Tony does not look his way.

He knew it. He fucking knew it!

"Armour! Override Steve Rogers, eight four three eight!"

Steve screeches to a halt in the nick of time, catching Tony as he falls even as the last pieces of the armour parts from his body. He was unclothed, save for a black boxer briefs for modesty and swathes of blood-stained bandages around his chest and shoulders. Steve doesn't know – wouldn't have asked if he knew –

"Call the medic!" he yells in the general direction of the Avengers. Only Jessica and Peter Parker break rank and jog towards them. Steve collects Tony's prone form into his lap, securing him, and tracks for a pulse. Let there be a pulse –

"I say, call the medic!"

Jessica gasps, her hand raised to her lips as Peter wavers. "Yeah, medic. Medic!" He looks back and waves frantically. "We have a man down. We need the medic stat!"

Some of the so-called first words he planned to say to Tony when they finally meet involve polite insults and sarcasm. Something along the line of "Banged up job running the country, Stark" or "You're the first one to have made Captain America consider moving to Canada". How many times Steve has practiced those words in the mirror while shaving and flossing. All the times he could've said "Long time, Tony" or "Saw you on TV, are you all right?". He rides in the ambulance with Tony, brooding and stewing in a corner as the medic staff fuss over their still unconscious patient. They throw jargons around a lot – none of which sound hopeful – but they haven't gone for the defibrillator, not once. Steve has been eyeing that.

Then, they make him sit outside of Surgery for two hours.

When they wheel Tony into a private ward, a small team of Avengers have assembled by the nurse's station. They're going to stay the night – either to keep a vigil over their ex-comrade, or to try throttle him in his sleep, Steve isn't very sure… but he nods at them, and follows the doctor into Tony's room. And there he sits in that stupidly tiny plastic chair for all of the night and wee hours in the morning, when Tony slowly rouses to the world.

Must be the man's best sleep in months.