Five Ways This Could Have Gone
What-If
Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked. Once more. He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked over, unconsciously catching his shield with one arm, shouldering his weapon over his back. Legs shaking, he tried to keep his composure. The sight before him was surreal, unreal, impossible. It was not how things were supposed to go but since when the war started did they ever? Silence filled his ears even though out of the corner of his eye, he knew that there were still fighting going around. The battle was over-for him-but the war was not. He needed to stop this.
Without realizing it, he looked away and found civilians-Civilians, Innocent Bystanders, Everyday Americans-ducking out of the way from debris and wayward attacks. Eyes wide, he found a little girl with blood gushing from a wound on the side of her head. These people had no reason to be there. They had no reason to bring their war to them. Where could he have gone wrong? What happened? To him? To them? It should not happen this way.
Captain America straightened his back, shoulders tense, striding with a confidence he did not feel to stand over the fallen body of Iron Man-Tony Stark, his comrade of arms, his best friend, his brother, his enemy. Staring down, Steve wished that Tony didn’t have a helmet on before he pushed the thought away. No, he refused to think of that. Fighting Iron Man as a faceless adversary made it easier. Remembering-seeing-his (former?) best friend’s face on the other side of the battle field made it harder. He wouldn’t be able to alienate Iron Man, would not be able to make him into the Villain, into something he had to fight, someone he needed to defeat-and if necessary, kill.
Throat tight, Steve knelt down and picked up the body, wishing against hope that Iron Man would move, do something, joke about playing dead (again). He couldn’t do this anymore. Steve refused to do this anymore. Staring down at the lifeless body of a man, who would be better described as an inactive robot (more than anything now), he still couldn’t believe his eyes. By all means, Iron Man should be dead-was dead.
Steve delivered a kill shot.
Picking Iron Man-Tony-up, Steve took a deep breath, imagining blood on his hands. Tony’s blood. This had gone too long. It shouldn’t have been this way. They should have talked. Really talked.
“I… I’m sorry.” Captain America’s voice cracked before he raised his voice, still staring at the body in his arms, holding the cold and damaged armour close to his chest, “Enough.”
A Dead Skrull
After escaping from a Skrull prison ship, Steve lifted the body of Iron Man, or what would have been Iron Man but was instead a Sleeper Skrull Agent, off the ground. The faceplate was still intact and regardless of the circle of friends and former friends (who betrayed, or rather protected him and the other Anti-Registration Meta-Humans as he would later learn), Steve couldn’t help but feel the wave of sorrow, of guilt rushing through his blood stream. Tension coiled at his neck, each of his joints white with pain.
It might not have been Tony but it was still an Iron Man who fought for Justice and Freedom. Another one of the defective agents, Steve knew but it didn’t stop the pain. Even to the end, Iron Man (Skrull or not) still fought for the good. They had no idea that he would die when the Empress had initiated the kill-switch for all agents, deciding that death was better than no victory.
Kamikaze.
Steve might not have been on the front lines in the Pacific but he knew enough and seen enough to know the horrors that the Japanese did in the name of their beliefs. Steve had hoped that would never happen again. They lost allies, current friends and former friends when each genetically manipulated Super-Skrull committed their last act. Grief was on the forefront of each of their minds and even if it wasn’t really Tony in his arms, even if it was technically an enemy, he was (even temporarily) still an ally.
They didn’t know where Tony was, if he was alive or dead as of yet.
But today, they still lost an Iron Man.
Steve Comes Back, Somehow
The shield that lay over his body wasn’t his. It was a fake, he knew that the moment he lifted it up and jumped into a low crouching position beside the slab of stone he was lying on. His eyes wary, he became disorientated to find himself in a room lit by candles. One hand immediately went over where he knew he had become wounded, pressing against his stomach. No blood. He was… alive?
His first thought was Sharon, if she was fine, alive. Before he even was conscious of it, the fake shield flew away from him in an arc not unlike his usual shield throw, slamming into the metal face of Doctor Doom before ricocheting back to Steve. He charged forward, grabbing Doom by his green cape, pressing him against the wall. A move that was irrational but it was full of adrenaline. Something happened, but what?
Steve needed to know and fast. He pressed the fake shield against Doom’s neck and barked out a question. Before Doom answered a blast knocked him to the ground, the shield already covering his head and upper body from injury-habit. The metal didn’t give but it still felt wrong. It was close enough to his own in matters of weight, size and durability, but it wasn’t his. Steve knew Tony gave him the shield that he woke up with. There was no other explanation, but Steve wanted one and more. He needed to know things and Tony was the only one who can give them to him.
Looking up, he found Doom to be gone. Scowling, he turned his head toward where the blast had originated from. A glint of armour-red and gold-caught his eye. Steve moved without thinking.
He caught unconscious(?) form of Iron Man and stared, then blinked.
Turning holding Iron Man firm and close to him, Steve examined his now destroyed surroundings. Something had happened. He didn’t know what. He tried coaxing Stark to wake up, knowing the blast shouldn’t have been able to make the other man go out and if he did, then it had to be exhaustion. But there was a sense that something was wrong. Steve could feel apprehension cover him like the ice of the arctic.
Shivering slightly, Steve waited for the auto-pilot to kick in. It was one way for him to know that Tony, physically was alright. It should be on by then. It was already ten minutes since the blast. If anything the armour would have made Tony stand up on his own and retreat somewhere else (and Steve would follow the armour, knowing it would lead to what could be determined “safety”) if possible. The armoured man felt heavy but Steve didn’t set Stark down. Couldn’t set Stark down. Refused to.
He called out Stark’s name repeatedly, Extremis would by now help Stark become conscious and move.
It wasn’t.
Gritting his teeth, Steve already was in motion, in an effort to look for an exit, for help. If Stark was here, then so would the Mighty Avengers, or even his own New Avengers. Unless Stark decided to fly solo but wasn’t Stark the Director of SHIELD? Then by now, SHIELD agents should be storming the place. Calling out Stark’s name once more, Steve finally set the body down and removed the faceplate.
Stark was placid, ashen.
Even before his fingers rested over Stark’s jugular for a pulse, Steve knew that Tony was dead.
Secret Invasion
Captain America paused in front of Steve Rogers, staring at him for a moment. One blink, then another. Silently, Bucky handed Steve the shield and stepped back, “Bout time you showed up.” There was a twitch of lips and Steve ducked his head, embarrassed. Bucky nodded at Steve and walked off to where Sharon was, already taking off his cowl, most likely going to change costumes. Only one man wore the Red, White and Blue and he had returned.
Steve pulled on his own cowl over his head and nodded to the forces of Meta-Humans and SHIELD agents behind him. It was time to strike back. He might have died but he got better. He came back and although the how was hazy, Steve did what he did best, lead. He looked around at the New Avengers, knowing that they were probably the Mighty Avengers only hope for winning against the Skrulls but it was time to stop the anger, the hatred-even for a little while-and do the right thing.
Save the world from aliens.
Lifting his shield, Captain America yelled loud and proud, “Avengers Assemble!”
Immediately, he charged forward into the fray in front of them all, searching out for the one man he needed to talk to, needed to be with. He spotted the Red and Gold armoured Suit of Tony Stark falling and rushed, surprised when he managed to catch Tony. The armour was heavy but Steve could bear it for however long it took for Tony wake up and notice him. It was time to forgive and stand together-even for a moment. Steve smiled slightly and waited, his grin straining as seconds and then minutes passed him by.
Mighty and New Avengers alike stood back to back as they fought against the Skrulls, oblivious to him and Tony just standing there. They were pushing the Skrulls back; they were winning, but why wasn’t Stark moving? Why wasn’t he already recovered? Steve stared down at the body in his hands, just now realizing that his glove was wet from where he was holding Tony’s back.
Closing his eyes, he swore on his reclaimed life to avenge the fallen.
Playing Dead For the Media (and Spiderman)
Tony grunted, lifting his head up and just stared at Steve. “I’m not dead. You can put me down now before the media starts running off some story that you and I are in a relationship and that’s why we went through the entire Civil War because you and I were fighting over something and we had to be disgruntled alpha males about it.”
Steve rolled his eyes, still holding Tony close to his chest, “I don’t know. I like you like this and we didn’t go through the Civil War because of that.”
“That’s right. We weren’t together then, even though we’re together now and can you please put me down? I’m not Sharon.” Tony let his head fall back, using Extremis to tally up his new injuries and what was still online within the suit.
“Of course, you’re not. If you were, we would be married already and having a kid on the way,” Steve chuckled, not letting Tony go, “Besides if the media does gossip then no one else would be surprise when we finally do tell the world we’re together.”
Tony sighed and wished for a moment that he was dead. At least the faceplate was still on, or he would be kissing Steve on the lips for his boldness to announce the world he was gay (or bisexual but who cares about the technicalities) and in love with an iron monger like Tony Stark. Not that would go well with the media and the other people that didn’t know. “If you don’t put me down, you’re sleeping on the couch.”
“Funny, I thought the couch was more comfortable than our bed,” Steve smirked, walking forward as if he was holding a dead corpse in his arms.
“You know what I mean,” Tony huffed, playing dead, wondering if Peter would forgive him for pulling his stint. Maybe he could blame it on Steve. Hopefully.
Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked. Once more. He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked over, unconsciously catching his shield with one arm, shouldering his weapon over his back. Legs shaking, he tried to keep his composure. The sight before him was surreal, unreal, impossible. It was not how things were supposed to go but since when the war started did they ever? Silence filled his ears even though out of the corner of his eye, he knew that there were still fighting going around. The battle was over-for him-but the war was not. He needed to stop this.
Without realizing it, he looked away and found civilians-Civilians, Innocent Bystanders, Everyday Americans-ducking out of the way from debris and wayward attacks. Eyes wide, he found a little girl with blood gushing from a wound on the side of her head. These people had no reason to be there. They had no reason to bring their war to them. Where could he have gone wrong? What happened? To him? To them? It should not happen this way.
Captain America straightened his back, shoulders tense, striding with a confidence he did not feel to stand over the fallen body of Iron Man-Tony Stark, his comrade of arms, his best friend, his brother, his enemy. Staring down, Steve wished that Tony didn’t have a helmet on before he pushed the thought away. No, he refused to think of that. Fighting Iron Man as a faceless adversary made it easier. Remembering-seeing-his (former?) best friend’s face on the other side of the battle field made it harder. He wouldn’t be able to alienate Iron Man, would not be able to make him into the Villain, into something he had to fight, someone he needed to defeat-and if necessary, kill.
Throat tight, Steve knelt down and picked up the body, wishing against hope that Iron Man would move, do something, joke about playing dead (again). He couldn’t do this anymore. Steve refused to do this anymore. Staring down at the lifeless body of a man, who would be better described as an inactive robot (more than anything now), he still couldn’t believe his eyes. By all means, Iron Man should be dead-was dead.
Steve delivered a kill shot.
Picking Iron Man-Tony-up, Steve took a deep breath, imagining blood on his hands. Tony’s blood. This had gone too long. It shouldn’t have been this way. They should have talked. Really talked.
“I… I’m sorry.” Captain America’s voice cracked before he raised his voice, still staring at the body in his arms, holding the cold and damaged armour close to his chest, “Enough.”
A Dead Skrull
After escaping from a Skrull prison ship, Steve lifted the body of Iron Man, or what would have been Iron Man but was instead a Sleeper Skrull Agent, off the ground. The faceplate was still intact and regardless of the circle of friends and former friends (who betrayed, or rather protected him and the other Anti-Registration Meta-Humans as he would later learn), Steve couldn’t help but feel the wave of sorrow, of guilt rushing through his blood stream. Tension coiled at his neck, each of his joints white with pain.
It might not have been Tony but it was still an Iron Man who fought for Justice and Freedom. Another one of the defective agents, Steve knew but it didn’t stop the pain. Even to the end, Iron Man (Skrull or not) still fought for the good. They had no idea that he would die when the Empress had initiated the kill-switch for all agents, deciding that death was better than no victory.
Kamikaze.
Steve might not have been on the front lines in the Pacific but he knew enough and seen enough to know the horrors that the Japanese did in the name of their beliefs. Steve had hoped that would never happen again. They lost allies, current friends and former friends when each genetically manipulated Super-Skrull committed their last act. Grief was on the forefront of each of their minds and even if it wasn’t really Tony in his arms, even if it was technically an enemy, he was (even temporarily) still an ally.
They didn’t know where Tony was, if he was alive or dead as of yet.
But today, they still lost an Iron Man.
Steve Comes Back, Somehow
The shield that lay over his body wasn’t his. It was a fake, he knew that the moment he lifted it up and jumped into a low crouching position beside the slab of stone he was lying on. His eyes wary, he became disorientated to find himself in a room lit by candles. One hand immediately went over where he knew he had become wounded, pressing against his stomach. No blood. He was… alive?
His first thought was Sharon, if she was fine, alive. Before he even was conscious of it, the fake shield flew away from him in an arc not unlike his usual shield throw, slamming into the metal face of Doctor Doom before ricocheting back to Steve. He charged forward, grabbing Doom by his green cape, pressing him against the wall. A move that was irrational but it was full of adrenaline. Something happened, but what?
Steve needed to know and fast. He pressed the fake shield against Doom’s neck and barked out a question. Before Doom answered a blast knocked him to the ground, the shield already covering his head and upper body from injury-habit. The metal didn’t give but it still felt wrong. It was close enough to his own in matters of weight, size and durability, but it wasn’t his. Steve knew Tony gave him the shield that he woke up with. There was no other explanation, but Steve wanted one and more. He needed to know things and Tony was the only one who can give them to him.
Looking up, he found Doom to be gone. Scowling, he turned his head toward where the blast had originated from. A glint of armour-red and gold-caught his eye. Steve moved without thinking.
He caught unconscious(?) form of Iron Man and stared, then blinked.
Turning holding Iron Man firm and close to him, Steve examined his now destroyed surroundings. Something had happened. He didn’t know what. He tried coaxing Stark to wake up, knowing the blast shouldn’t have been able to make the other man go out and if he did, then it had to be exhaustion. But there was a sense that something was wrong. Steve could feel apprehension cover him like the ice of the arctic.
Shivering slightly, Steve waited for the auto-pilot to kick in. It was one way for him to know that Tony, physically was alright. It should be on by then. It was already ten minutes since the blast. If anything the armour would have made Tony stand up on his own and retreat somewhere else (and Steve would follow the armour, knowing it would lead to what could be determined “safety”) if possible. The armoured man felt heavy but Steve didn’t set Stark down. Couldn’t set Stark down. Refused to.
He called out Stark’s name repeatedly, Extremis would by now help Stark become conscious and move.
It wasn’t.
Gritting his teeth, Steve already was in motion, in an effort to look for an exit, for help. If Stark was here, then so would the Mighty Avengers, or even his own New Avengers. Unless Stark decided to fly solo but wasn’t Stark the Director of SHIELD? Then by now, SHIELD agents should be storming the place. Calling out Stark’s name once more, Steve finally set the body down and removed the faceplate.
Stark was placid, ashen.
Even before his fingers rested over Stark’s jugular for a pulse, Steve knew that Tony was dead.
Secret Invasion
Captain America paused in front of Steve Rogers, staring at him for a moment. One blink, then another. Silently, Bucky handed Steve the shield and stepped back, “Bout time you showed up.” There was a twitch of lips and Steve ducked his head, embarrassed. Bucky nodded at Steve and walked off to where Sharon was, already taking off his cowl, most likely going to change costumes. Only one man wore the Red, White and Blue and he had returned.
Steve pulled on his own cowl over his head and nodded to the forces of Meta-Humans and SHIELD agents behind him. It was time to strike back. He might have died but he got better. He came back and although the how was hazy, Steve did what he did best, lead. He looked around at the New Avengers, knowing that they were probably the Mighty Avengers only hope for winning against the Skrulls but it was time to stop the anger, the hatred-even for a little while-and do the right thing.
Save the world from aliens.
Lifting his shield, Captain America yelled loud and proud, “Avengers Assemble!”
Immediately, he charged forward into the fray in front of them all, searching out for the one man he needed to talk to, needed to be with. He spotted the Red and Gold armoured Suit of Tony Stark falling and rushed, surprised when he managed to catch Tony. The armour was heavy but Steve could bear it for however long it took for Tony wake up and notice him. It was time to forgive and stand together-even for a moment. Steve smiled slightly and waited, his grin straining as seconds and then minutes passed him by.
Mighty and New Avengers alike stood back to back as they fought against the Skrulls, oblivious to him and Tony just standing there. They were pushing the Skrulls back; they were winning, but why wasn’t Stark moving? Why wasn’t he already recovered? Steve stared down at the body in his hands, just now realizing that his glove was wet from where he was holding Tony’s back.
Closing his eyes, he swore on his reclaimed life to avenge the fallen.
Playing Dead For the Media (and Spiderman)
Tony grunted, lifting his head up and just stared at Steve. “I’m not dead. You can put me down now before the media starts running off some story that you and I are in a relationship and that’s why we went through the entire Civil War because you and I were fighting over something and we had to be disgruntled alpha males about it.”
Steve rolled his eyes, still holding Tony close to his chest, “I don’t know. I like you like this and we didn’t go through the Civil War because of that.”
“That’s right. We weren’t together then, even though we’re together now and can you please put me down? I’m not Sharon.” Tony let his head fall back, using Extremis to tally up his new injuries and what was still online within the suit.
“Of course, you’re not. If you were, we would be married already and having a kid on the way,” Steve chuckled, not letting Tony go, “Besides if the media does gossip then no one else would be surprise when we finally do tell the world we’re together.”
Tony sighed and wished for a moment that he was dead. At least the faceplate was still on, or he would be kissing Steve on the lips for his boldness to announce the world he was gay (or bisexual but who cares about the technicalities) and in love with an iron monger like Tony Stark. Not that would go well with the media and the other people that didn’t know. “If you don’t put me down, you’re sleeping on the couch.”
“Funny, I thought the couch was more comfortable than our bed,” Steve smirked, walking forward as if he was holding a dead corpse in his arms.
“You know what I mean,” Tony huffed, playing dead, wondering if Peter would forgive him for pulling his stint. Maybe he could blame it on Steve. Hopefully.