Hey guys, I'm baack! It's been forever since I've been able to write anything (and it's been agony). So welcome, to another story from: My sick, twisted mind. Need I say more?
Wait... Um, warning: death, and I don't own anything (sigh). On with the story!
"Cap, no, get out of here, the cave's going to-"
Iron Man didn't get to finish his sentence as the world crumbled around them, tons of rock falling and crushing and closing out the light and the air and the last thing Steve saw before the world went black were Natasha's wide, horrified eyes staring helplessly at him, ten feet away, so close but so far. Too far, too far to help as the floor collapsed beneath them and they were falling and something hit him and everything went dark.
This wasn't supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen, the mission had been so simple, so simple and everything had still gone wrong.
It was supposed to have been easy, or easier than usual, anyway. They were supposed to have just taken out the AIM agents and brought MODOK in for questioning, and everything was going well so they did something very, very stupid.
They let their guard down.
They let their guard down for just a moment, a single moment, when Iron Man was going a little slower than normal because he had taken a direct hit from a plasma gun to the knee and the joint was refusing to work, and Steve had turned his back. It was one second, just one second, to tell Natasha that everything was okay and that she could go on without them.
And then MODOK did something. He vanished with a rush of wind and mad cackling, and then the floor and ceiling cracked and started splintering and Steve had thrown Natasha out of the entrance and gone back for Iron Man, which, okay, maybe was stupid, but the floor was collapsing so he wasn't thinking too clearly.
But realizing that now didn't change the fact that they were in a very large underground stream, no, an underground river, going very, very quickly. The cave walls around them were illuminated in brief snatches as the river threw Tony around, giving Steve glimpses of the world around them as he struggled to keep his head above the water and just breathe. Eventually, he blacked out again.
The first thing Steve did when he woke up was roll over and vomit more water than humanly possible.
The second thing he did was realize he was no longer in a river, and Iron Man, minus the faceplate, was lying next to him. He frantically scrabbled over, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt Tony's warm breath underneath his hand.
Steve then promptly fell asleep, relief that they were out of danger (for now) and alive allowing him to relax.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So, so stupid. He had let his guard down again and fallen asleep, completely missing that something very hard and very sharp had torn part of the abdomen out of Iron Man, letting something else that was very hard and very sharp tear part of the abdomen out of Tony Stark.
Steve wasn't a doctor, but he knew that the wound was serious. While it wasn't spurting blood (that was good) it was still bleeding sluggishly after who knows how long, and that was both a good and a bad sign. Good, because it meant that there was still blood in Tony's body and nothing vital had been torn out (otherwise, blood would have spurted and things besides blood and flesh would have been seen). Bad, because Tony was still bleeding and he didn't have antiseptic or a needle and thread.
Steve was very, very close to just sitting back and letting out a stream of curses.
Instead, he tore strips from his clothes and used a rock to keep them pressed onto Tony's stomach while he looked for a more permanent solution. Taking the armor off was out (he'd nearly lost a few fingers on the sharp edges trying), so in the end he just tore more strips off and tied them around Tony, armor and all.
He traipsed over to the river, taking off his helmet and washing it. They were on a rock outcropping that was plenty big enough for the both of them, the water was clean, and he could see the dark shapes of fish beneath the water's surface. That was good. They could survive this.
A hoarse voice broke him out of his thoughts. "H-hey, Cap. Looking good," Tony turned his head and coughed harshly, but the coughs were dry and the lungs didn't sound like they were drowning. "I sh-should let you out in a belly shirt more of-often."
"Stark, thank God you're awake," Steve hurried the few steps back, water sloshing in his helmet between his hands. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," he muttered. Steve frowned. "But considering I had to drag your sorry ass out of the river with a hole in my stomach, I'd say I'm doing pretty well." He coughed again, grimacing as his stomach flared with pain.
"Do you need water?" Steve asked cautiously. "I'll get you some water, the water in the river is clean."
Tony visibly shuddered. "No thanks, Cap. Had enough water for a lifetime. Call- call me when people get here. Going to sleep now."
"Tony, don't! You need to stay awake," Steve said, but it was too late. Tony's eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out.
Steve sighed in frustration and dropped his head into his hands. If he had taken the hit Tony had, the cut would have scabbed over and been well on its way to healing now. But no, Tony had to take the hit and now they were stuck in a cave right beside a very cold body of water with no supplies or way to communicate with the outside world.
Oh boy. This was going to end well.
Steve hadn't meant to fall asleep.
In fact, he didn't actually remember falling asleep or being asleep (which was weird because he always remembered his dreams), but he did remember jolting out of sleep to hear the rushing of water and panicking for longer than he cared to admit before realizing where he was.
The realization didn't really help his panic much.
Neither did the feverish and mumbling teammate beside him.
Steve sat up and glanced at Tony's wound, noting that the skin around it was shiny and Tony's skin was very, very hot. He quickly tore the bandage away, grimacing when a sour smell hit him. The wound was looking… not good. It was red and inflamed, and instead of leaking blood, it was leaking milky pus and some strange, clear liquid. Not good. Very not good.
What could he do? He didn't have any saline or hydrogen peroxide, Tony was obviously in pain and not good, and oh God they were going to die down here and the team would find nothing but bodies, but skeletons, but maggots eating rotting flesh while white bone grinned at them and oh God the thought of it was making him want to throw up-
Steve told himself to calm down. It wasn't the worst wound he'd seen, not by far. He quietly collected his helmet and the rags and took them to the river, washing out the rags and filling his helmet with water. He rinsed out the wound until pus stopped leaking out, until he could see the flesh underneath, red and glistening and heaving with each of Tony's labored breaths.
He closed his eyes, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat.
Each time Steve looked, Tony got worse. His eyes glazed over and his hands started shaking, and he would occasionally whimper in pain and try to curl in on himself, but he was hanging on, that stubborn son of a gun.
Steve hoped that would be enough to keep him alive until a rescue team got there.
How long had it been since they'd fallen, hours, days, weeks? He'd lost track, there was no sun here to tell them. There was no telling how far down the river they'd gone, how long they'd been and would be stuck down here, no telling how long it would take for anyone to find where they were and dig them out.
Steve trudged over to the river, successfully catching a long pink fish with no eyes. He pulled the meat from the bones and fed himself and Tony, ignoring how similar the flesh looked to Tony's, hoping they both wouldn't die of food poisoning before the blood poisoning got to Tony.
Eventually, even the famous Stark stubbornness started failing Tony. The infection in the wound was too much. No matter how many times Steve rinsed it clean and bound it up, the infection stayed in the wound, slowly poisoning Tony's blood.
"S-Steve," Tony rasped, staring up at him with bleary eyes.
"Don't talk, Tony. Save your strength. You're going to live, you have to live," Steve babbled, coaxing more water into Tony's mouth and washing out his wound, then refilling his helmet and repeating. "Come on, stay with me, Starks are made of iron, right?"
"Steve," Tony rasped again, squeezing his eyes shut when Steve pressed the rags back on to his wound. "Steve, this isn't going to work and you know it. Unless that rescue team comes right now and you know damn well it isn't, I'm a goner."
"Tony, no," Steve said, shaking his head. "Hold out for another day, one more day, they're coming for us, they'll get here, you'll live."
"Steve, you stubborn son of a bitch," Tony ground out. "Look at me." Steve cut off his babbling mid-word, glancing up into Tony's clouded eyes.
"Good, Steve," Tony closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, then opened them again. "You did good, and so did-"
He opened his mouth and took a shallow breath, but then his breath hitched and his lips worked for a moment more, tongue flailing as he tried to speak and his body failed him. Steve looked on helplessly, breath stolen from him, eyes wide open, unable to blink.
Tony's eyes shone with something- fear? for a moment longer before the light slowly died from his eyes and they slid closed, his mouth still open an inch, breath escaping in a rush of air.
Steve shook his head and kept working. Tony was still alive, he was just sleeping, just sleeping, he would wake up soon and they could go back to the Tower and snark at each other and pretend to hate each other. Tony was still alive. He had to be.
The flesh cooled under his frantically moving fingers, the temperature dropping, dropping, dropping. The stomach stopped rising and even though the wound still glistened, it was a cold, cold light, the light of steel and death.
Steve stayed in the same position for an infinite amount of time, kneeling on the cold, cold stone next to the cold, cold body, blood on his hands, water dripping lightly off his body, the world quiet, so quiet without Tony's voice.
He didn't scream, he didn't cry. He was numb. And although his heart cried and raged for the lost soul of Tony Stark, his mind and his body sat still and quiet and cold and oh so numb. Oh so very numb.
The arc reactor shone a bright blue, ready to keep powering Tony's heart for another seventy lifetimes. It shone and it pulsed lightly in the rhythm Stark's heart would have, a quiet and steady pulse.
It was a beacon of hope and light and life.
It was mocking Steve, and Steve hated it.
Eventually, a hole opened in the ceiling above him, rocking clearing away, showering dust upon him and Tony's still form. He hadn't moved as the blood dried on his hands, as the open flesh in front of his had begun to fester and rot.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," He faintly heard someone chanting in the background, voice breathy and panicked.
He didn't move as black-clad forms knelt and took Tony's body, staring at the rust-colored stain that was once his blood. He didn't react as arms gently lifted him, as he was carried into a world of light and a wet cloth gently cleaned his hands and face and body. He didn't move as needles were quietly inserted into his hands and arms, didn't react as he was put down on a bed and a scratchy white sheet covered him.
One day, Stark walked in to his bright white hospital room. He smiled and he snarked and he laughed. He talked and talked and talked and talked and Steve couldn't get enough of his voice.
But Steve still wouldn't talk. Couldn't. The world was still too quiet, too still.
Tony's face then darkened in rage and he lunged, pulling out the slim bits of metal in Steve's arms.
Why didn't you save me, Captain? You could have, you always could have, you just didn't try hard enough, you never try hard enough, you just sat there and watched me die. You watched me die.
And Steve didn't say a word as hands roughly tore the needles from his hands and arms, watched passively as crimson flowed and his hands darkened with blood, rivulets of dark, dark blood, running and running just like that river, only this time it brought warmth and it brought life.
Steve smiled as he finally, finally, went numb and his vision slowly grayed and faded to black.
So... yeah. That was fun.