FLASHBACK

Tony walks the length of the room, fingers drumming nervously against his outer leg—it's like the space is closing in on him. He tries to keep his voice calm and reasonable, but it's been hours, and he's exhausted. "Rogue superheroes are unpredictable loose cannons and a very real threat to world peace."

Rogers is as stonily inscrutable as when the meeting started. "You mean, like you were? Are you afraid we'll repeat your mistakes?"

Fury has thrown out all the other Avengers; it's boiled down to Captain America being unwilling to agree to the Registration Act passed by the United States government, and for some inexplicable reason, Fury thinks Tony might have some sway with the man.

"You don't happen to see the irony here, do you?" Tony wonders aloud.

Rogers raises a dark blonde eyebrow. Well, it seems that the last few years in the twenty-first century have taught him what a sense of humor is. "Fuck it all. Yes, Cap, I am scared shitless. We don't all have the peace of mind belonging to God's righteous man."

Rogers ignores his jab and gives him his patented Captain America look of disappointment. "And you want to place these unpredictable loose cannons under the authority of the government-a government that, let's not forget, hasn't stopped demanding that Stark Industries recommence making weapons?"

Tony yanks out a chair and slumps into it for a relieved few seconds before straightening to confront Rogers again. "I haven't forgotten. Force is a necessary component of organization, civil order. I want you to understand, Cap, that I am willing to do anything and everything to avoid another Tony Stark putting on an Iron Man suit and claiming to be a hero."

Rogers's stern gaze becomes, of all things, sad, taking Tony by surprise. "I should never had said what I did. Do you hate yourself that much?"

Tony has to digest the strange moment before he continues. "I'm not going to let any more people die because someone like me went on an ego trip."

Leaning forward, Rogers says earnestly, in a tone loaded with frustration, "But this isn't about you, Tony. This is about thousands upon thousands of men and women forced to expose their identities, give up their ordinary lives."

"There are always sacrifices—," Tony starts to say, before Rogers interrupts him with a harsh glare.

"If you say 'for the greater good' Tony, I swear to God—listen. You haven't thought about how horribly wrong this registration act can go? Beyond a blacklist that affects only superhumans? Hasn't the past shown you anything about the lines that people in power don't hesitate to cross?"

Of course it has, Tony wants to yell. But having walked the paved road of my own good intentions to hell, I've learned a different lesson than you have. Instead, he say, "Yes, the past. You like to bring that up a lot. I don't know about you, Captain Rogers, but I live in the future."

Rogers looks at him for a long time, and then gets to his feet. "That isn't my future." Tony watches him mutely as he walks away from the table. At the door, he hesitates. "I'll miss you, Tony."

Tony laughs, but the sound comes out more like a croak. He needs a drink. Badly. A headache is building to an unbearable crescendo. "Hopefully enough so that you'll reconsider seeing me on the other side of the chalk line."

"Take care of yourself," Rogers says, and Tony's left with the quiet click of the door closing. Just like that, Captain America had made his grand exit, stage left.

Rogers takes the kids in the divorce proceedings, or so Tony would quip, if he'd had the perspective to do or say anything remotely intelligent. After months of kicking around the empty Tower, obsessing over the imperfect performance of Extremis, and fretting over everyone and everything out of his control—so everyone, and everything—Tony finds out that he has an inoperable brain tumor.

Tony sits in his silent workshop, empty liquor bottles scattered around him, his childhood bots still as he's commanded them to be. Maybe he should be angry, or upset at least. Honestly, though, he only feels defeated. He still has Pepper, and Rhodey, and Vision, on his side. And look, he even thinks in terms of ally and enemy now.

He's lost his purpose, his relentless energy to live. Now that the battle arrays have been drawn, he doesn't know what way to take anymore. For all intents and purposes, he's alone in this.

But then, there's Extremis.