As always, please let me know what you think and if you have any corrections or suggestions for me. (Plus leave as many comments as your heart desires because I love them) Thanks for reading, and I'm sorry in advance. Also, I used an online translator (not Google Translate) for the Russian, so if there's any mistakes, feel free to let me know.

*PG-13+ for triggering themes

Steve stayed in his room for the rest of the night. It wasn't like he was going to eat anyway, and frankly he never wanted to have to face up to his team again. The shame felt like a literal weight on his shoulders, pressing down on him and trying to crush him. And the thought that they knew made him sick to his stomach. How could he have been so stupid?

Part of him wanted to run straight back to that knife, but the other part of him just couldn't. He couldn't breathe without feeling ashamed, couldn't feel the sting of the fresh cuts or think about the blood and the blade without it completely overwhelming him. Doing it again, while it would bring temporary relief, would only make all of that worse.

But he also knew that resolve wouldn't last long.

So, he paced. When that gave him the feeling that he was in an endless race he'd never win, he sat down and tried to read his Bible. But, though he knew it wasn't right and that wasn't what God wanted, that just made him feel like even more of a failure.

After all, they all knew he was a Christian. How did this look to all of them? Yeah, some example he was.

And so he paced until he couldn't take it again, then he'd go back to his Bible, and the cycle would repeat itself. He lost track of time as he fell into that hellish circle, until finally, he closed the Bible for what seemed like the millionth time that night and looked up sharply.

What had he come to? This was his life anymore, running in a destructive pattern of trying to get away from everything, then trying to fix it, and failing at both. This was his existence.

And it was a pretty **** worthless existence if you asked him.

Why hadn't Bucky just let him drown? Everything would have been so much easier.

He'd been holding on for Bucky. But Bucky was no where. For all Steve knew, HYDRA could have killed him. And anyway, why was he giving himself so much credit, so much worth in Bucky's eyes? He'd been having to look after Steve's depressed *** since they were teenagers. It should be a serious relief to him to hear he finally didn't have that burden anymore.

In his heart, Steve knew how wrong that was. He knew how much Bucky cared about him... he knew they'd always be brothers, no matter what either of them did. But he couldn't face that right now. Because he just wanted out. He just wanted everything to end.

And why shouldn't it? He was doing no good to anyone. He could pretend like he was a hero all he wanted, pretended like the team needed him to lead them, but he wasn't, and they didn't. All he was, was a broken kid from Brooklyn who was out of his time, and Tony would be ten times the leader he was. Tony didn't cut his own wrists because he didn't know how to deal with pain.

So what was he doing here?

How could he do it, though? He wasn't exactly the easiest person on earth to kill. He jumped out of planes with no parachute, so a bridge was out. And he knew that if he couldn't even get drunk, there was no way his system would let him overdose on any kind of medication.

So a bullet through his head was really it. Fine. He could be brave.

But he wasn't doing it here.

Shoving down the voice inside of him that was begging him to stop, he got to his feet only to kneel in front of his bed. He let them safe hidden there read his fingerprint so it could open, then withdrew the handgun stowed there. He crossed the room to his dresser, unlocked a smaller sage in the bottom drawer, and selected some ammunition. As he loaded the gun in well-practiced movements, most of his mind was focused on pushing away that voice inside of him that wouldn't stop pleading with him not to do this.

When the the ammunition was inside and the gun was ready and equipped with its safety, Steve grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on, then slid the weapon into holster concealed inside the garment.

Finally, he picked up his notebook an tore out a page. He was too afraid of changing his own mind to do anything but keep it short.

I know I let you all down, and I'm sorry. If you ever find Bucky, please tell him I'm sorry too. I love you all. -Steve

He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and checked the time. It was several minutes past midnight. So Tony at least would be up, but he'd be in the lab and Steve could avoid him. With his keys in his hand, he also collected his knife from its hiding place, then walked to the door and took a deep breath. He could do this. Everything hurt now, but that wouldn't last for long. He was going home.

POV change sponsored by Nike.

Tony looked up from the project he was working on at a knock on the doorway. He'd been trying to distract himself and give Steve some time by pouring his attention into his and Bruce's latest project, and it had worked for the most part. But he'd still had a picture of the soldier, alone in his room, hurting and yet so ashamed of it that he was pushing everyone away, and it had put him off his game no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

Bruce had obviously noticed, and while he hadn't said anything about it, he'd stuck around later than he usually would, and been patient with Tony no matter how many times his mind wandered or he made a simple mistake. It was the doctor's way of being there for his teammates, offering them his presence and a silence that it was clear could be broken if they wanted to talk, and never getting annoyed or exasperated with them.

Nevertheless, Tony hadn't said anything about Steve... not yet anyway. He didn't want the soldier to think that he was gossiping about him to the rest of the team, even if he knew all they would want to do was support him and be there for him.

Now, Tony looked over his shoulder, to where the knock had come from, and saw Natasha standing there, in a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, with a bowl of cereal in one hand a spoon in the other. It was the first he'd seen of her since she'd left the tower after receiving a text following their meeting that morning.

"Hey, boys," she greeted them as she came into the lab. "Hard at work as usual, I see."

"Just tinkering, really," Bruce replied, looking up to gift her with a quick smile before fixing his eyes back on his task.

She laughed. "Yeah, tinkering with super-smart science things, I bet."

Neither of them answered, so she perched on the edge of one of the tables and took another bite of her cereal, watching them while she did. After a long pause, she spoke up again.

"Hey, have either of you talked to Steve today? He was acting really weird after the meeting this morning."

At the mention of the captain's name, Tony's hand slipped on his current task and the metal he'd been working with hit the floor with a crash. He swore softly as he bent to pick it up, and as he went to straighten the back of his head slammed into the underside of the table.

More swearing followed, as Bruce set down his own materials and looked at him through his goggles, concern in his gaze. Nat's expression held the same emotion.

"Tony, are you okay?" Bruce asked finally. "You've been off all day. Did you and Steve get in another argument or something?"

Tony sighed, setting his tools down as well and pushing his goggles up onto his head. "No, not this time." He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "I kinda wish that was it, honestly."

The worried faces of his friends settled it in his mind. He had to tell them what was going on. After all, they cared about Cap too, and frankly, it seemed he was going to need all the help he could get.

"So you have talked to Steve today?" Natasha asked, setting her half-finished bowl aside and giving him her full attention.

"Yeah, I have." The billionaire leaned back on the table behind him and pushed out a puff of air slowly. "Like you said, he was acting weird after the meeting this morning. Everyone else left while I was going through all those **** papers they gave us, but he hung around, was asking about the mission and the team and stuff. I could tell he really just didn't want to be alone, so I asked him if he was doing okay..."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing at both the memory and the headache he'd been nursing for several hours.

"And we went back and forth for a while between him lying and saying he was fine and me calling him on it, but he wouldn't give. So I told him I'd let it drop if he showed me his arms."

"His arms?" Bruce asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "You don't think..."

"Yeah, I do," Tony sighed. "You haven't noticed he's been in long sleeves for two weeks? Maybe more, I don't know."

The doctor's expression became even more worried as the memory in his eyes confirmed his friend's observation. "No, you're right. He has, hasn't he?"

"So what'd he do?" Nat leaned forward, her eyes analyzing Tony's face.

Tony shook his head as he pulled his goggles off of his head and set them down beside him. "He freaked out. Woulda thought I asked him to Hail HYDRA. Ended up panicking and running out of the room."

The billionaire hesitated a moment before continuing.

"So I let him go, decided to give him a while to calm down, hopefully realized I just wanted to help. And I called Sam, told him what happened, and he came over. We both went up to Steve's room after he'd had some time, but Sam went in first without me. He tried to ask him if he was okay, tried to ask him about why he'd freaked out earlier, tried to tell him he cared about him, but he wouldn't give. I stepped in, did the same, still didn't work."

Tony sighed heavily, staring into nothing. "The kid was nearly crying by the end of it, but he just wouldn't..." He shook his head. "And we couldn't make him. So Sam told him to text if he changed his mind and left, and I did too. But as I went to go, I saw blood on the floor."

He couldn't believe it, but he could feel a slight stinging at the corners of his own eyes.

"There was probably more... that was probably why he took so long to come to the door... 'cause he was..." He let the sentence hang, shrugging finally. "I tried. But he just... he just wouldn't..."

Both Natasha and Bruce looked like they'd just been punched.

"черт возьми, Роджерс!" Nat muttered. "Я знала, что ты не в порядке. Я же сказала, позволь мне помочь. Боже, Стив, почему ты не позволил мне помочь?"

Bruce shook his head slowly, pain written on his face. "Why would he... God, I had no idea."

Tony just shrugged once more, unsure of what to say so remaining silent.

"I'll go talk to him," Natasha said after a long moment.

Tony nodded. "He'll probably take it better from you. Tell JARVIS if you need backup, though."

She returned the gesture, then turned and left the room.

There will be one more part.