Chapter Text
It had been five years since the formation of the Avengers. Five long, hard years. Battle after battle - only ever a moment of peace before some hot-head thought he (or she, this was a modern era) had what was needed to be the next “big bad”. Sometimes it was old enemies, long thought dead who just couldn’t stay in their nice retirement lairs and brood about their 'glory days'.
Captain America wasn’t sure what he would do with the inactivity for a prolonged period of time. But right now, at this second, it seemed so sweet and untouchable. He was so tired. How many years had he been doing this dog and pony show? Sometimes, despite the pain, it felt good to lose. The Captain hadn’t lost his reason for the mission, but he had lost his emotions. With ever battle he felt more and more hollow - when did it end?
He couldn’t ask the others how to cope with it. Thor loved the thrill of battle, the heat of the moment. Clint and Natasha enjoyed the easy life, putting their best efforts into their work and when it was done? It was done, call it a day, relax with a few drinks and the company of each other. The Captain seemed to lack such an off switch. Or it was broken, maybe old and rusted away. Tony Stark, Hank Pym or Bruce Banner didn’t cross his mind, after all they had their little science projects to get back to. Spiderman was young, he still had the passion of his youth to keep him going.
But the Captain.
What was his motivation again?
What did anything mean anymore.
-
Tony opened the door to Steve’s flat. The meticulous protocol orientated military man hadn’t checked in after the last meeting. Tony had been on his high-flying way home and Steve’s house was on the way, so he’d stopped in (after a lot of bothering from Bruce about the whole matter).
He couldn’t say he was surprised to see the apartment was sparsely decorated. The only thing hung on the wall was the Cap’s prized shield. Shiny and polished. The rest of the home looked like it was barely used; a layer of dust covered the mantle, couch, tv set, even the carpet. “Steve?” Tony asked hesitantly, closing the front door behind him.
Sir, I’m picking up Mr. Rogers' life signs in the bathroom.
“Great, he’d better not be naked. And don't call him 'Mr. Rogers', it sounds so... anyway.” Tony grumbled, his suit making it’s reassuring metallic noises as he moved towards the bathroom. He knocked loudly, “Yo Capsicle, you in there? Just checking to make sure you’re still alive.”`
There was no response or noise from in the room.
Rolling his eyes as he twisted the knob and opened the door, “Cap--!” his snarky tone had turned surprised.
There Steve Rogers stood, his hands held loosely at his sides. He was simply standing there. He looked beat to shit. Blood dripped from his fingers, his face was a mass of bruises. His suit was torn in so many places. There was mud, gore and building material all over his clothing. Absently, the sound of bathwater drummed in the background, the steamy vapors forming an obscuring mist of heat.
What really got Tony, what made him take that step forward, was the blank stare on Rogers’s face. Like he didn’t know where he was. Like he wasn’t home.
“Cap?” Tony asked quietly, not wanting to startle him. There was no response from Steve. Tony reached out a suited hand before poking the man gently on the bicep. “Steve?”
He sucked in a breath when Steve looked at him, obligingly. Like a good soldier. But there was nothing in those blue eyes. Tony took a step back in surprise, he’d expected something. Any spark of the patriot. Usually there was that indulgent glow of friendship to greet him. Or the piercing of his disapproval.
Nothing.
Tony doubted that Steve could even hear him at this moment. He waved a hand in front of Steve’s face, “You okay there, Capsicle?”
Steve’s mouth opened, his voice was dull, lost; emotionless. “What am I even doing.” It wasn’t a question, hell, it wasn't even a statement.
It was just…. a sentence.
Sir, it would appear that Mr. R- Captain Rogers here, is not well.
"Noted, thank you J.A.R.V.I.S.."Tony tilted his head to the side, his worry for the star spangled man growing with every passing second. He’d have to take him back to S.H.I.E.L.D. for an evaluation. But… not like this. Not covered in filth like an animal.
“You’re going to take a bath,” Tony said firmly. “Listen to me soldier, I’m ordering you to take off your uniform and get into that tub.” Tony held his breath, worried that Steve would fight him on rank.
However, it seem to relieve Rogers that he finally had an order to follow. Tony looked at his comrade in arms with pity. This was the look of a man who had lost his way. Tony wasn’t sure if he was the right man to get him back on track - but at least he could find someone to help him. Maybe Fury, or Fury might know a guy. Maybe he knew a guy, who knew a guy who could help Rogers.
Tony’s attention was drawn back to Steve when the soldier turned. Tony’s face lifted and he looked away from the suddenly naked Steve Rogers. Naked men didn’t bother him, but this was his co-commander of the Avengers. You didn’t DO things like that. It was call privacy for a reason. He turned away, hearing the water rustle as Steve entered it, “Let me know when you’re in the tub, Captain.”
“In the tub, sir.” Steve’s voice lacked everything that made Steve a person; an Avenger. A Hero.
“Good.” Tony walked back over, swallowing his awkwardness around Steve’s naked body. “Are you injured anywhere, soldier?” he asked sternly, his suited hand reaching for a rag and soap (if he could find any). Luckily he did, good to know that Steve had cleaning supplies.
Steve shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, sir,” his voice was listless. He just sat there in the tub. The water turned dark all around him as the mud, sweat and dirt drifted off his body. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Huh,” Tony said with a grunt, he grabbed the cloth and started to work it up and down Steve’s shoulders. His face grew red and he shifted uncomfortably. C’mon, this was a grown man in front of him, he could wash himself. Tony handed the cloth to the Cap, “Wash yourself.”
The lack of energy that Steve grabbed the washrag with astounded Tony. All sorts of warning bells rang loudly in his mind - or was it in his suit? The lack of care that Steve paid to washing himself irritated Tony. He stood up and manually took off his suit, his shirt beginning to soak to his skin just from the vapors of heat in the small bathroom. De-suited with his armor carelessly left on the floor taking up space, he knelt by the bathtub and took the washcloth out of Steve’s hand. He dipped it in the bath water before scrubbing at Steve’s skin to actually get the dirt off.
Steve didn’t move even though it had to hurt. He just sat there in the water and stared at the bubbles with that blank expression. Tony had gotten most of Steve’s back and his right shoulder when he found a quickly healing slash on the man’s rib. He clicked his tongue grumpily before grunting and wiping off Steve’s other shoulder and neck. “Learn to take better care of yourself, Steve.” he said with an angry snarl.
“I’m sorry,” Steve said automatically. He let out a soft sigh and pulled his head up as Tony wiped at his chin and neck.
“Well fix it, what’s gotten into you anyway?” Tony said angrily. His hand reaching out to steady Steve’s jaw as he washed it off. “This isn’t like you Capsicle. Normally you’re Mr. On Top Of Things.” Tony was so busy talking to Steve that he didn’t see the man’s mouth open, in fact, if he hadn’t reached out a hand to steady himself from falling into the water, he wouldn’t have felt the faint vibrations of Steve talking. “Steve, look, you’ve got to speak up."
“I’m sorry, Logan.” Steve repeated, his voice a little louder. His shoulders tensed.
Tony pulled back, his left eyebrow skyrocketing on his forehead. “Logan? Who is Logan, Steve, it’s me. Tony. You know, your comrade in Avenging?”
“I didn’t mean for things to end that way, after all the work you did helping me destroy the Rebirth Machine… We can’t let Howard know,” Steve said listlessly, looking at the bath wall tiling blankly.
Tony waved his hand in front of Steve’s face. “Anyone even alive in there? Who are you talking to? Hello?”
Steve just went on mumbling to whoever ‘Logan’ was, his hands making little explanatory motions in the dirty water. Tony stood him up and washed the suds and the rest of the dirt off the man before handing him a towel and telling to him dry himself off. Steve did so, but it was like his mind and body were disconnected. His hands dried him off, but he kept talking to Logan.
It would appear that Steve is not himself.Perhaps he sustained head trauma during the last fight?
"No, really?" Tony went out of the bathroom and located a pair of boxers and pants - on a whim he grabbed a shirt as well. He tossed them at Steve when he got back into the room. “Put these on,” Tony told him sternly.
“But, what about the mission?” Steve asked, his voice finally taking some warmth back into it. He’d gotten completely dressed though. They walked out into the livingroom. Steve's posture was formal, there was a shadow about him that Tony didn't like.
Tony turned back to Steve, “Mission? Steve, we just finished the mission. We won."
Steve’s blue eyes focused on Tony for the first time, his brows furrowed. His feet spread apart and his hands slid to his hips - an action stance. There was an air of mistrust about him.
“Steve?” Tony asked, a prickle of unease trailing down his spine as Steve’s eyes flicked towards his shield. “Steve, it’s me, Tony. We’re comrades?” Tony found himself backing up as Steve advanced towards him.
“You will address me as Captain, and what are you doing in my— this,” momentarily, he looked confused, “Is this my house? Strange. I don’t recall living here.” He refocused on Tony, “And we may be comrades, but I only work with Logan. I told them at HQ, Logan is the only one who I can depend on. So who are you?”
“Okay, first off - Ow. That hurts. We’ve been working together for five years now and you’re only now bringing up another boyfriend?” Tony said as sarcastically as he could, hiding the surprising amount of hurt he felt, “And secondly, who the hell is Logan?”
Steve titled his head, “Logan. The Canadian. You must know of him, he's the best operative we have out on the field.”
Tony blinked, “You’re working with a Canadian?”
Steve nodded, “I know, not conventional, but he’s the best of the best. He always bounces back, like me.” Steve’s hand clenched, “I always bounce back. Damn Howard for what he did to me.” Steve cursed, his hand slammed into the wall in anger. The drywall shattered around his fist. He looked down, surprised to see the hole he'd just created.
“Howard? Who the hell is Howard?” Tony asked, really starting to get sick of all this nonsense Steve was spouting out. His arms crossed in front of his undersuit and he held back a sarcastic eyebrow quirk.
“Stark. Howard Stark. The man who turned me into this,” Steve said, gesturing to his body. "If I ever see him again...."
Tony’s eyebrows shot to the sky. His mouth opened, but no noise came out. He closed it, swallowed, and tried again, “Uh, Steve? Howard Stark has been dead for over thirty years. Rememer? We talked about this.” Tony said holding up his hands to soothe Steve.
Steve looked at him with old, battle angry blue eyes, “What? No, that’s impossible. I saw him just the other day. With her.” He swore loudly, his other hand hitting the drywall. “Peggy.” He turned on Tony, “Where is Logan, soldier. Take me to see him now.”
“Yeah, let me get right on that.” Tony said, thrown off by Steve’s personality change. He stepped back into the wall, “Does this Logan have another name? Maybe a last name?” Stark asked, he would run a search as quick as he could - but outside of his suit, Steve was faster and stronger than him. For once in his life, Tony didn't want to provoke the super soldier into a fight. Hell, he wasn't even sure this was the Steve he knew.
Steve settled back, clearly feeling better with the attempt to contact his friend. “No, he just goes by that, or his codename.”
“And that would be?” Stark pressed.
“Wolverine.”