Hey guys. I don't own anything… I'm just a poor uni student who is was struck by a writing urge that wouldn't go away till I got it out of my system.

Chapter 1

Tony didn't go down easy.

They were fighting as per usual another villain who's abilities rose above the police guidelines. Naturally with the combined teamwork of the avengers the singular villain didn't really stand a chance and was sooner rather than later frantically cursing the world and looking for a way out.

So desperate and mildly powerful the generic villain of the month took their weapon, which even they didn't know how it worked properly, and fired.

Tony didn't go down easy. Him and his suit went down through the walls of two warehouses (thank god they were in an industrial area) and came to a stop in a grimy alley that separated warehouse two and three.

Tony regained consciousness after Jarvis had rebooted and so was immediately accosted with results from the suits internal medical scan. He knew something was wrong with him by the way he couldn't calm himself down enough to take in the information.

"Jarvis" Tony started before the high, panicked sound of his voice made him stop.

That was not how he sounded. That was not his voice. Something was very wrong.

Panic caused him to become slightly more aware that his body was being pressured by parts of the suit in an increasingly painful way. He couldn't stay in the suit.

Tony did not like this; his suit could survive far more damage than being thrown through a few walls. He disengaged the suit ignoring Jarvis and climbed out of the undamaged suit.

Oh. It wasn't the suit then. He was a genius he could figure it out. Something was wrong with him. Something was very wrong with him. He took in his surroundings in a panicked haze; unable to process it properly his brain simply came up with big.

Everything was big. The exposed suit with its insides open to the world, the grimy walls of the surrounding warehouses stretching up to the sky so very high above his head. Higher than he could ever remember them being.

Disorientated, panicked and more than a little sore from being tossed around in the fight that got him into this situation Tony took off. While it went against every instinct he had he left his suit behind him. Taking a deep breath his chest stuttered, a horrible panic deeper than he felt before flooded him when he realized that the arc reactor was gone.

He had to go. He had to find something to fix himself.

On unsteady legs he walked, what was he doing? Was he going to walk to the tower? His mind was all over the place not the beautiful kaleidoscope of numbers and plans that usually swirled through his head but a chaotic rush of emotions pushing him to make illogical decisions.

He was aware in the distance of the sounds of battle cleanup, sirens and shouting and the roar of the hulk. Nothing was right here. He should be going towards them, but he needed to fix himself. He needed to be right for the team. He was Iron Man; he was Tony Stark.

Keeping his legs going through will power he kept his eyes firmly fixed ahead risking no chance of glimpsing himself, glimpsing what was wrong. He didn't have his tools yet.

"Tony"

There was a voice behind him. It was gentle and it was confused and Tony hated it right now. Something was wrong with him and someone was there and he didn't like it. He did not like it. He tensed and stilled and hoped they would leave (but maybe they could give him tools, maybe they could help fix him?).

"Tony?"

He was brave dammit. He was a superhero. He could turn around he wasn't a -. He cut his thoughts off and screwed up his courage. He was Iron Man.

Turning around he looked up at the owner of the voice. Something was wrong. Something inside him, something he could hardly remember being reared up inside him when he saw Captain America standing above him. He immediately looked back at the soiled ground of the alley, as his shoulders remained tensed.

Captain America approached him, kneeled in front of him. His uniform was going to have a dirty knee. Tony jumped a little when hands settled on his shoulders and he lifted his gaze. Steve had removed his cowl and Tony could see blatant confusion and a little bit of fear in his eyes.

Tony took a stuttering breath and looked down where his own bare feet (his? How could they be his?) had collected dirt and mud.

"Something's wrong Steve. Something's really wrong." Tony said.

Hearing his voice for the second time since he had gone down Tony started to shake. It wasn't his voice. The voice was wrong. He wasn't meant to sound small, he wasn't meant to sound scared and he wasn't meant to sound young.

"Oh my God" Steve whispered above him.

"Tony. Hey, it's going to be all right, we'll figure this out. We need to get back to SHIELD.

Steve said in his ridiculously steady voice above him, his huge hands engulfing Tony's small shoulders.

Steve was still talking above him, but Tony wasn't listening. He heard snippets of words, "found him", and "shock" before he could no longer see the ground, his? feet; everything blurred before his eyes and he couldn't stop shaking.

His whole world lurched as the hands on his shoulders shifted and he wasn't on the ground and for a second he wanted to simply grasp onto the one thing that had made sense and never let go.

The second finished as something that ran deeper than his desire for comfort made him struggle through his confusion. Something was wrong with him, something that made him vulnerable (he could fix that, he could make it his greatest strength he could, hadn't he already?). He had to walk; he should be walking from this?

"Put me down." He gasped as he pushed weak arms against the solid (constant) chest.

There was a hand on his back and it didn't falter.

"I need to walk, they need to see" Tony said between gulping in panicked breaths of air.

Steve was talking, calm words that hardly registered in the roaring that he could hear.

"Suit, I need my armor"

Tony could do anything; he could fight anything he just needed his suit because his vision was starting to fade in a way that the display never went.

"Jarvis?"

"Sir you are safe, Captain Rogers is here and you are going to be alright"

Tony slumped into the Captains hold, his fight to stay conscious seemed didn't seem as urgent anymore.

A.N

Right I kind of have a plan for this so let me know if it's alright or if I should give up while i'm ahead and let the story die to shorten the suffering ;) Anyway have a great night, or day wherever you are!