Marvel One Shots

II. Righteous Heart

The scream hit Tony Stark like a swarm of bullets. It rocked him backward, sent him stumbling into the wall behind him. It deafened his ears, and he close to fell apart on the floor when the shock really hit him. Then there was a second scream.

The first scream was filled with pure pain and surprise. The second scream was filled with everything that Tony felt. Pain, fear, shock, denial.

What had he done?

What had he done?

What the fuck had he done?

"No."

He mumbled the word to himself like a mantra. Over and over he whispered it, starting to rock away from the wall, burying his face in his broken repulsors. The blinking lights blinded him through his eyelids, and because of that, he couldn't see and be prepared when Barnes jumped at him.

The armless man flew at him, his one arm connecting wherever he aimed it. The man wasn't aiming, but his blind rage did the job for him. Tony didn't try to fight him, and he soon fell on his back, Barnes on top, and laid there while his face was being beaten to a bloody nothing.

After what seemed like forever, Barnes pulled away, edging his way away from Tony. The retired Soldier curled up against the wall, hand in his hair and face buried against his knees.

"He wouldn't want me to kill you."

The words were muffled. Tony drew a labored breath.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Tony turned his head to the side, locking his eyes on the body lying further away.

"I didn't mean it. I didn't want this."

The white face faced up, eyes unseeing and face stained with blood. The blood came from the nose and mouth, and it had slipped all the way down to his throat, down his chest before pooling in the palm of his hand. It dripped off his fingertips, the sickening sound of it dripping into a small pool echoing in Tony's ears.

Barnes sobbed in the corner where he'd hidden himself away, and it was so heartbreaking that Tony couldn't help but cry as well. It was silent, the sobs shaking his body, before escalating as he did his best to raise to his knees.

Crawling over in his broken suit, Tony neared his friend. His dead friend. Ripping off the metal gloves on his hands, Tony gripped the limp, cold and wet hand in both of his shaking ones. Pressing the hand against his forehead, he whispered to it, pretending that it belonged to someone still here.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want a war. I didn't want this."

He kept repeating until the comm he'd forgotten sparked to life.

"Stark?"

He didn't recognise the voice. But it didn't matter. Clearing his voice, he still gripped the hand but raised away from it.

"Here. "

The voice spoke again, but Tony didn't listen. His eyes caught the shield. It was coated in blood. His blood. The blood that had sprayed and splattered everywhere after Tony's deadly mistake had been commited. The white star was deep crimson, and it tugged at Tony's heart to see it like that. What he felt was truly heartbreaking about the image, was the crack that went through it.

Tony was the trigger.

The shield was the cause.

He was the affect.

The shield had been through a lot of things and a lot of battles. Explosions, gunshots, bouncing around like a frisbee and a boomerang from time to time. All that and then some, and yet it still shattered under the pressure of a little too much amplified repulsorblast.

The shockwave that had gone through the three men had sent one to his knees. The two others flew in each direction. One protected, encased in shattered metal. Another dying, pierced through his too weak armor.

Barnes had ripped the metal away in desperation, causing the man to bleed out on the gray floor. That's when two screams had turned into one.

"Report."

Tony scowled.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled again, pressing his right hand against the Captain's silent chest, where no righteous heart would beat. Cleanching his jaw, he moved his hand to the man's face, reaching out and closing the empty blue orbs that stared out at nothing.

The lump in his throat thickened as he tried to rise. He fell back on his knees.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Contact Romanoff."

"Dialing Natasha Romanoff."

Seconds that felt like eternities passed before Natasha picked up. She started talking, but Tony cut her off before she was able to finish.

"The GPS in Capsicle's suit should still be active."

"What do you want me to do with it?" She asked, confused. Tony didn't reply right away. After a deep breath, he said;

"Come pick him up. And Barnes."

Natasha's turn to hesitate.

"Ross'll be thrilled to have them in the Raft." She muttered, anger dripping off of every word. Tony swallowed.

"Hide them."

"What?" She asked, confused.

"I don't know where, just do it. Maybe His Majesty is kind enough to do it."

"Tony? Why should I hide them? What's happened?"

At this, he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. It took Natasha some time to realise the man was crying. Fear was more than evident in her voice when she spoke. The fear radiated and was big enough to make her voice crack. Something it rarely did.

"Tony. What happened?"

'He's dead. I killed him. He's dead. Fuck!' He thought. At the last word, he slammed his fist into the ground, shooting pain through his arm.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuc-!"

"Stark!"

"HE'S DEAD! NAT, HE'S DEAD!"

The sudden screams rendered Natasha speechless. The images that flittered through her mind was too horrifying to be put to words or reality, yet it still might be exactly how she thought.

Turning away from the scream her friend made, she looked at the King of Wakanda that sat next to her. He'd heard the whole thing, and now he merely nodded, his face grim but determined.

Closing her eyes to stop the flood of tears, she found the speed dial to Nick Fury.

Before he could even respond, she said, her voice straight and firm, but full of tears;

"Steve Rogers is dead."

***

A/N: Don't hate me, please. This is a 'what-if' over what I think would've happened if Steve had died at the end of Civil War (a movie I'm still not over). I hope I got as much as possible right, since this was a real pain to write.