Disclaimer: Don't own just borrowing from Marvel, but if I did, Steve and Tony always!

Genre: Romance, angst, tragedy, action, adventure, humor, AU

Story: He wanted to say he wasn't sure when it had become an obsession, but that would be a lie. It had become an obsession the day he had lost him. That one bright spot in his miserable existence gone in a heartbeat. He'd lost his soul and his mind that day. No not accurate either, he had lost his heart that day. They had buried it with that patriotic hero.

Author's Note: Well I'm back! With a new one, not going to lie it's going to be a tear jerker. Also Tony is completely badass in this one. It's rather AUish, but not at the same time. I may have to start another fluffy one to offset the angst of this one. I'm pretty excited about the concept and I hope you guys are too. Anyway please enjoy!

Redemption

Chapter 1 - Stark you're the last

"Steve you need to get out of there, you're out of time!" the frantic yell cut across the com, as the man in red and gold armor sped towards the red, white, and blue figure holding back the oncoming machine. "I can get you more time," he grunted back, his shield slicing the air again and again. Iron Man pushed harder, "No time get out!" JARVIS was in his ear telling him he was rapidly loosing power. "All power to thrusts, shut up JARVIS I know the math," he also knew the odds, and he was hoping for a little divine providence. "Please Steve get out," the plea came out softly.

"I can ge-" he was cut off, as a sudden explosion ended his words, Tony screamed over the link, "STEVE!" static the only reply. The others where yelling but it seemed distant and fuzzy; rushing towards the last known location of Captain America.

Tony the first to arrive stumbling as he touched down already running, the dust and debris still settling. The large machine was labouring onwards into the panicked city, but the man in the iron suit was focused on one thing. "Steve?" he frantically searched, trying to spot that distinctive costume. He barely heard the small moan of pain. It felt like he was moving in slow motion, sliding to his knees beside the prone figure.

Ripping his helmet off, dark eyes refusing to acknowledge what he was seeing. "Steve…" large metal bars protruded from that wide chest; three in all. One had gone right through his heart, blood pooling under him at an incredible rate. Shock set in then, the world draining of sound and colour, the battle faded and his entire being centered on the man dying before him. A trembling metal hand settled around the bar trying to stanch the ceaseless flow, "Steve hold on you'll be fine." The words rang hollow in his own mind.

"Tony…I never told you…." Steve coughed, blood trickling from between colourless lips, "No don't you say goodbye, don't you dare." He begged, staring into those beautiful blue eyes, The blonde smiled softly, the pain beginning to ease from his features, "Love you…" bloody lips formed the words slowly, crimson trickling from the corner of his mouth. "No please Steve please, I love you too please," he gathered the big man close, the big body trembling. He was crying, unsure when the tears had started, as he begged and pleaded for him not to leave. Desperately pressing his lips to the dying man tasting the metallic tang, "Please…" desolate he clutched the cooling body rocking back and forth. Once bright blue eyes clouded over, staring lifelessly upwards.

He awoke, blinking slowly, the dream from the long ago past as fresh, and clear as the day it had happened. Every time he'd closed his eyes it was there, haunting him, following him into his waking hours. The jet dipped slightly, and the man heard retching across from him. Impassively he glanced towards the young recruits, pale and shaking. Today had been their baptism by fire; it hadn't been easy.

He sighed rubbing his face tiredly, feeling the harsh brush of stubble, interspersed with the smooth, puckered scar tissue; he was getting far to old for this. He felt his right hand tremble then, clenching and unclenching, trying not to let the others notice. He was well aware of what they said about him, more myth then man; the rumor mill ran rampant where he was concerned. Most didn't even come close to the truth. Over the years the elusive facts had evolved, changing, each generation making his tale larger, grandiose, until he was sure the man they spoke of did not exist except in legend; the real thing not even coming close.

They where landing then, the jet touching down on the main base. The young, recruits the first to hurry off, followed by the more seasoned men, while he waited until last. Worn black combat boots slowly disembarking, ignoring the chaos around him. Eyes skimming the blood red sky, the sun a dying orange ball on the horizon, night was coming. In no hurrying he headed into the massive concrete and steel structure, his feet automatically moving along a familiar twisting route. He was almost home free when a somewhat familiar women appeared, "Sir, Supreme Commander Wilson would like to see you." He paused, looking at the women steadily, saying nothing as she shifted uncomfortably looking anywhere but at him.

"You're making her nervous," the haunting familiar voice chastised softly, the man nodded slowly, trying to soften his look a little as he followed her further into the base. She left him as they reached the small office, looking relived to be out of his presence. Once upon a time he would have tried to keep a good-looking young women in his vicinity longer; but that had been life times ago.

"Stark," the deep voice barked, drawing his attention, the middle aged man glaring at him from behind the haphazard pile of metal serving as a desk. He stepped inside, moving to fall in at ease, speaking for the first time, "Sir." He voice was gravelly, low, the older man stood moving around the contraption towards him. He couldn't remember anymore how many Directors, Commanders, Generals he had seen come and go. "Stark, have a seat," he declined with a small shake of his head, sighing heavily the Commander moved to pour himself a drink, "Drink?" he shook his head, watching as the man poured the foul smelling moonshine into a lopsided tumbler.

Drink in hand he returned to his seat, studying the almost mythical man before him. "Look Stark there's no easy way to say this," he focused on a single dark brown eye, the other obscured by the black eye patch he wore. "The decision to end Project Avenger for good." There was no sound, no movement from the dark headed man, "Stark you're the last, the others long since buried out there. The world stopped believing in superhero's decades ago." He gave the tinniest of flinches, the statement finding it's mark, "You have done great things for us, for the world, and we thank you for your many years of service, but now they ask that Iron Man fade into obscurity."

The unmoving figure never once changed his facial expression but inside his mind was screaming, his chest feeling like it would cave in at any moment. "Is that all Sir," he managed blandly, his world spinning and breaking apart, "Hold it together, be strong love." The voice offered small comfort, as the Supreme Commander nodded, turning on his heels he paused when the older man spoke again, "Tony…I'm sorry." He closed his eyes in pain, stepping silently into the hall.

His expression told everyone to stay out of his way. Unhindered he reached the concrete bunker that served as his lab, locking himself inside. Alone he leaned back against the metal door, closing his eyes tightly, as he tried to steady his mind, the unforgiving words echoing in his head, those harsh unyielding truths. Everything he had said had been right. He was the last; the world turning its back on him long ago. "That's not true the world will always need hero's."

"No they don't, they stopped wanting to believe in hero's long ago." Wearily he stood moving towards the small alcove on the far side. He stripped his dirty uniform stepping into the weak tepid spray trickling from the hose, cleaning quickly and efficiently. Water was a precious thing. He stepped out toweling off quickly before catching his reflection in the small cracked mirror. Wincing, repelled by what he saw.

The abhorrent blue glow in his chest that kept him alive had slowed time for him. He was rougher around the edges, a few wrinkles a white streak that ran through his still, thick, dark hair but physically he looked no older then thirty-eight. He'd be a hundred and thirty-eight next month. "Still got it," he gave himself a sour smile, pulling the scars on his face. Three twisted white lines cut across his lips, another started on his forehead running through his left eye ending on his cheek. That one had cost him his eye. Under the torn, drooping lid a red glow was visible, he could hear the mechanical whir and hum in his head as it moved and focused. An engineering marvel, he'd created himself a new eye, although the red glow tended to unnerve many. It was easier to just conceal it.

"You do still have it," snorting a dark brow rose glancing at the shadowy image reflecting in the glass. "We defiantly aren't what we used to be," he ignored the plethora of scars crisscrossing his body, puckered bullet holes, burns, deep furrows, and a multitude of others he'd rather not think about. His gaze fell on his left arm, or at least what had been his left arm. He had lost it, years ago now, but in typical Stark fashion he had used his suit designs to create another. With the help of Bruce they had attached it to his chest piece powering the limb. "I like it, I always have. You really are Iron Man," chuckling he turned to face the other properly, looking into cloudy blue eyes, that unnaturally pale face smiling at him softly. "You still love me like this?" he teased making a point to not to look at the three large, bloody holes in the man's chest, "I never stopped."

Shaking shaggy locks he dressed in old worn jeans, and tight black thermal shirt as he navigated the chaotic lab easily. Bots beginning to beep to life, DUM-E and Butterfingers, the last of his friends, "He's right though I am the last." The other was silent to that observation, reaching the far end of the room he paused before the cluttered space. It looked like a haphazard mess of pictures, newspaper clippings, and articles connected together intricately with bright red yarn. The entire thing chronologically categorized a time period of a month in 2013 in minute detail. He'd been working on it for as long as he could remember. "You're not thinking about this again are you?" he stood beside him looking sadly at the wall, "I never stopped thinking about it."

"It's a fools mission Tony."

"Perhaps, but what do I have left Steve? They're done with me. They what to pretend I never happened. Pretend we never happened." He could see the apparition flinch wavering beside him. Tony Stark had lived a long time; far longer then any one should. He had seen his friends die one by one, leaving him alone. He'd seen the word end, more then once, civilization collapse and rebuild. More horror's then he could name, or wanted to remember. All of because of a single horrible moment in time, when the Avengers had failed…no that wasn't accurate. Where he had failed.

"It wasn't you Tony," he said as if reading him mind, which made sense, since he was a figment of his fragmented mind. "It was. It really was we both know that. It was all my fault," he whispered his voice cracking slightly, as he brushed too long hair out of his eyes. His mechanical eye feeding him useless information the ambient temperature in the room and what the bots where doing behind him. "Things sometimes happen for a reason,"

"I don't buy that, I never have." He moved towards the board, "You where the catalysis love." He touched an article with a strong smiling man, the headline's bore the tragic news; Captain America dead. "Without you we fell apart; I fell apart," he moved to a second article, circled in red. "A week later Eva," the benevolent looking women smiling smugly from the faded newsprint, "Five days and she unleashed hell. No one was ready for it."

"You can't know it was that specific chain of events."

"Maybe not, maybe I'm wrong…but if there's even a small hope." He turned to the dead man, "The tiniest sliver of hope that I can change this," he gestured around him hearing the clink of his tags against his chest, "It would be worth it." He was moving them, Steve blessedly silent as he and the boys hurried around the cluttered space.

"I'm not letting you talk me out of it this time," he told the man firmly, "Not this time love," he muttered, his good eye taking on a fervent gleam, as he fired up a dead system unearthing long buried plans. Steve blessedly silent as he worked.

He wanted to say he wasn't sure when it had become an obsession, but that would be a lie. It had become an obsession the day he had lost him. That one bright spot in his miserable existence gone in a heartbeat. He'd lost his soul and his mind that day. No not accurate either, he had lost his heart that day. They had buried it with that patriotic hero. "Tony…" he ignore the voice, firing up the machines he hadn't turned on in years. "Tony," he moved blowing dust from circuit boards, "Need more power." Mumbling as he dragged cables, from all corners of the room.

He worked steadily for hours, locking down his lab, but no one bothered him. There was no one left to worry over him, make him eat or sleep. "I'm still here," the voice reminded him softly, "I know love…but you're not real." His chest clenched, he knew Steve had died a hundred years ago, that he wasn't really here talking to him. It was nothing more then a hopeful delusion his addled mind clung too. Sanity and Tony Stark had parted ways long ago.

It took him twelve hours to get the machines up and running. Sitting back he scanned the rather ad hoc device. He'd harvested it for parts over the years, but he was almost sure it would work. Satisfied he gathered his few meager possessions in his rucksack, "I can't stop you can I?"

"Nope,"

"How are you going to get back?"

"I'm not going to come back, and if it all works then this god forsaken future will never happen."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then I die," he shrugged snapping the bag closed, "And I get to be with you again."

"Tony…" sighing he paused to grab an old faded photo, taken a few weeks after the Avengers had first assembled. It was Steve and himself, laughing together about something, a candid photo Clint had taken; and his most treasured possession.

Moving to the machine he paused by his bots, "Thanks boys, for staying." They beeped their happiness as he stepped onto the pad, Steve stood by the bots. "See you on the other side love," he winked, nodding to the machines to hit it. He grunted in pain as electricity coursed through him, his last conscious thought if he was going to die, he hoped Steve was waiting for him.