Steve had always thought the whole "global warming" thing meant the world was meant to get hotter. Apparently, it messed with the seasons year-round. Which was he'd ended up in his current predicament. Metres deep in snow, digging out a lady trapped in her car at one o'clock in the afternoon. On a Sunday. In September. When the storm had hit, everyone had laughed, snow in September, how strange. But it hadn't stopped and suddenly New York was under one of the biggest snow blankets it had ever see. The calls for help had come almost immediately; people were trapped in cars, buildings, supermarkets. And, of course, the Avengers had been called and were more than happy to help (well, Steve had been, at least. Tony had bitched about the cold for at least three hours). But they'd gotten out on the street, helped rescue efforts, clean-up crews and anyone else who'd needed it. And it had been fun. Between times there were cups of hot coffee and one-too many snowballs from Clint. It had been fun. But that was three days ago.
Steve shivered as he pushed yet another layer of snow back off the car. It was buried under the latest downfall, and its' young driver had 'just been nicking to the shops'. Like many people he'd helped, there was a small part of Steve that wondered how stupid people were in the 21st century. It was in those moments Steve remembered his hatred for snow. And ice. And the cold. He really hated the cold.
He finally had enough snow moved that he could wedge open the door. And he did.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" The petite brunette was at lest thirty, lips translucent and body shivering.
"Yeah, battery only died on me about half an hour ago. I'll be all good from here. My place is only a few blocks away. As she stepped away from her car her legs buckled and Steve was quick to catch her.
"Ma'am, you have been in freezing temperatures for over an hour and I think you need to be checked out by a doctor. I'm going to take you down to the nearest hospital okay?"
When she couldn't answer over the chattering of her teeth Steve bundled her up and began the walk towards the hospital.
The brunette, who's name Steve had found was Jeanette, will be fine, Steve was assured by the nurse who treated her for mild hypothermia. The second he knew that, he was pulling the phone Tony had taught him how to use out of his pocket. He was quick to find the next emergency on his list.
"Anyone seen Spangles?" Tony padded into the communal living room where the rest of the team were in various states of wakefulness. He was met by a chorus of answers in the negative. "Huh."
They'd all been exhausted, but Steve had been strict on everyone getting at least six hours of rest every twenty-four hours so no one collapsed in a heap somewhere in the snow. They'd all run into each other at some stage and coincidentally, six hours previously, had all ended up sacking out at the same time. It was only when he was getting breakfast and was able to account for nearly the whole team that he noticed the lack of their captain.
"Anyone seen him since this whole shemozzle started?" Another negative. Tony began to get worried. Sure, the Super Soldier could go a few days without sleep, but that was granted he'd been eating regularly (which Tony was willing to bet he hadn't), had gotten a full night of sleep beforehand (again, negatory) and that there was no other strain that needed dealing with (ah, exhibit (A), the snow). It was building up to paint a rather grim picture.
Tony's angst was being noticed by the rest of the team, who were slowly but surely straightening up.
"Alright," Bruce stood, taking charge. "When was the last time any of us got in contact with him?"
A few mumbles, all in the realm of several days ago.
"Last time anyone spoke to him?"
The answers were the same.
"We need to find. Split up, we'll take our next jobs in opposite directions; ask around and find out where he's been. It can't have been too far."
They nodded at Bruce and headed out the scientist staying behind. Hulk was no help with a clean up effort.
Steve was cold. He'd never liked the cold. Not when he was a small, sickly child and certainly not after he'd spent seventy years colder than he'd believed possible. His next job was on the opposite end of the city, digging out the door of an apartment building with a woman inside about to go into labour. He jogged along the sidewalk, breath coming in sharp, misty pants. He shouldn't be tired. He should be able to run the length of the city without breaking a sweat. He turned into an alley, intent on taking a short cut. He was halfway through when he tripped, taken down by a patch of snow that was deeper than it had looked. He groaned, attempted to push himself up. He found himself unable. He tried again. Same result. The snow began again, and though the alley was sheltered some of it was coming through. Steve's eyes were heavy, and suddenly, it didn't feel so cold.
"Stark, you got anything?" Clint Barton had taken Lower Manhattan, and he was anxiously waiting to hear if any of his teammates have seen of heard from their captain. Their captain, who's comm. link was down and who none of them had seen for three days.
"Negatory Katniss." The guilt that was pooling like sick in his gut overrode the annoyance at the nickname.
"Anyone else?" The same answers. Clint had just finished clearing an emergency road and was making his way inside a café for a cup of coffee before he headed to his next job.
"Long black please." He chanced a glance at the barista, a man in his early twenties, sandy haired with sunny blue eyes.
"Of course. Hey, are you Hawkeye?" The boy was vibrating with excitement, and Clint didn't have the heart to quench it with a convenient lie.
"Yeah, working on the clean-up."
"Aw, that is so cool! James is never going to believe it! Captain America ran past earlier and now I've made coffee for Hawkeye! This is so cool!"
"Hold up, you've seen Cap?"
The boy was close to jumping up and down with joy. "Yeah, he ran past like an hour ago! It was so cool, he was in the suit and he was running so fast! I even got a photo-wait! Where are you going? You didn't get you coffee!"
Clint was out the door and into the street within seconds, finger on his comm. "Cap was seen at my location an hour ago! Get down here now!" He was combing the street; a feeling of dread that had been steadily growing since they realised Steve was essentially missing growing until he was feeling physically ill. Something was wrong. Barely a minute later, both Tony and Thor were landing in the street beside him, Tony's repulses melting the snow he landed upon.
"Where is the good Captain?" Thor's voice booms.
Tony interrupted before Clint could chime in. "He has to be around here somewhere. He hasn't checked in to his next job which is on the other side of the city, and he was seen here an hour ago. There's no way he wouldn't be there by now unless something had gone wrong." Tony's voice sounded worried, an unusual sound Clint had now heard twice in a twenty four hour period.
"Alright, Tasha should be here soon, so we'll take the road and you two get an aerial sweep. We need to cover the area from here to the job he was headed for."
"Sounds good." Tony was already rising into the sky.
"Aye." Thor likewise rose. Not a minute later, the red wave of fire that was Black Widow's hair came racing down the street.
"Got here as quickly as possible. Fill me in."
Ten minutes later, the eyes in the sky had reported nothing and the ground team was having similar luck.
"We need to think like him. He wouldn't give up, he'd be efficient…" Clint trailed off, eyes locking with the alleyway he knew spat out a block up. It was a well-known shortcut. He took off, not waiting for Natasha, knowing she'd catch up. The first hundred metres of the alley seemed set to be a bust, but his keen eyes caught the glint of something covered by snow. As Clint got closer, he recognised the shine of Steve's uniform. His hand flew to his comm even as he fell to his knees. "Guys I got him, send for Bruce, we're going to need medical." As he spoke, he and Natasha were brushing the snow off the super soldier, rolling him onto his back. Upon seeing their captain, Clint leaned over and expelled the bile that had been building all day. Half of Steve's young face was black with frostbite. His lips were translucent and tinged with blue. His hands, which Clint and Natasha were quick to pull out of the snow and clamp between their own hands, slowly blowing on them, were red and blue and purple, black patches setting n on paches. Not long after, both Thor and only landed on either side of them.
"What the hell happened here?" Tony was the first out of the air to move to his knees, brushing yet more snow off the soldier.
"No idea. I'd say he passed out from exhaustion; it's the sort of thing he'd do, run himself to the ground."
Steve was cold. He hated the cold. His hands hurt and he was so tired. So, it came as a surprise that he found himself waking.
"Steve, open your eyes." Ah, annoying voice, that'll be what woke him up. It sounded like Bucky. Same annoying tone. Maybe that's why he was cold, the orphanage never had been insulated well.
"Steve, come on, wake up." Annoying voice won't shut up. It was definitely Bucky."
"Sod 'ff B'ck."
"No Steve, it's not Bucky. It's 2012, come on soldier open your eyes."
He didn't know when Bucky became so weird but following orders was ingrained in him and he forced the lead weights off his eyes and opened them. The man above him was not Bucky, and with a rush, seventy years of cold brought him to the present.
"T'ny?" The man above him sighed.
"Much better Spangles."
"M' cold."
"Yeah, you're in the snow you idiot. You'd think turning into a Capsicle once would be enough for you."
"Cold."
"Alright," Tony sighs, "Maybe not as with it as we'd hope."
Steve didn't know what that meant. Everything was sore and he was so, so cold. Maybe when he woke up again he'd be warmer. Given how exhausted he was, sleep seemed like a good idea. He closed his eyes.
"Alright," Tony sighed with worry as the glazed eyes of the Super Soldier faded in and out. "Maybe not as with it as we'd hope." He turned to Thor. "Thor, get down here. We need to get him some body heat and you're the only one big enough to do any good. Clint and Natasha had cleared the snow from their Captain's top and were working to clear the rest of it from his legs. Thor was moving to sit against the wall and Tony got ready to move Steve when he noticed the blue eyes had closed.
"Steve?" He lightly tapped his face. Steve's head flopped listlessly. His voice had gotten the attention of Bruce, who had been working with Steve's blackened hands.
"Tony, help me get him on top of Thor." The two scientists moved the limp blonde atop the Asgardian's lap, upon which he wrapped his red cloak around him. Bruce moved a hand to Steve's sternum, knuckling along it while calling out to him. He checked Steve's breathing and moved a hand to feel between his legs and under his arms. Whatever he found must have alarmed him, because he turned to Tony with wide eyes.
"How far out is medical?"
Tony relayed the question to Jarvis, and repeated the answer aloud. "Half an hour. They got stuck at an apartment with a woman in labour and they had to dig the door out."
Bruce's frown deepened. "He doesn't have that kind of time Tony. He needs to be in a hospital now. Even with his healing, he's looking at losing his life let alone his hands and nose."
The situation, which had seemed slightly bad and slightly ironic was now rolling into dangerous and scary.
"I got it Bruce." Without waiting for response from his team, he gripped the man who should be shivering but wasn't out from Thor's grip and took off to the sky.
Three minutes later, Tony was landing on the medical bay's landing pad at Stark Tower. He was hoping Thor would take initiative and fly Bruce back, but if not, they had a medical team on standby for cases such as these. Steve was limp in his arms and barely breathing when Tony walked the two of them inside the sanctuary that was filled with the wonder of modern heating. There was a gurney waiting and Tony wasted no time depositing Steve onto it, the medical team immediately swooping in with clothes scissors (specially designed by Tony to be able to cut off the Kevlar-style uniforms he's made for Steve's suit, they're the only material he's found so far that can penetrate the suit but won't break the skin. One of Tony's more ingenious inventions, if he does say so himself.) Steve's body was blue and without the suit moving with his ribcage, Steve's shallow breaths were even harder to detect. The gurney was rolled away and curtained off. And within a minute of Steve arriving, he was gone again.
Bruce arrived several minutes later, quickly joining the medical staff, the rest of the avengers joining Tony less than a half hour later. They waited in anxious silence for nearly three hours before a haggard looking Bruce came out. As one, they stood from the various couches they'd dropped into.
"They saved his hands." Is he first thing the tired doctor said, and they gave a collective sigh of relief.
It was quelled by the next words. "But we don't know how well he's going to pull through mentally. He woke once about an hour ago and he was terrified, we think it was only because his body was working so had to heal that the sedative we administered worked. We're playing a waiting game now."
"Sit down Bruce." Clint was the first to speak, keen eyes noting the exhaustion marred the doctor's face. The scientist slumped down with a look of gratitude.
"You can head in and see him now if you want."
They moved to the door.
Clint had seen Steve in the ice, though the other man hadn't known it. He'd been at shield for a mission debriefing, and when he'd heard that Captain America, the nation's long-lost icon had not only been found but was in the building, it had only been natural to crawl into the vents and have a look. Steve hadn't looked half as bad then as he did now. His face lacked any colour, bar the dark red and purple patches across his face (though it was an improvement on the black it had been hours ago). There were piles of blankets atop him, weighted by electric cords no doubt heating them. Clint was glad they hid his disfigured hands. Aside from looking like a newly dead corpse, the solider was anything but peaceful. His brow was creased with discomfort and every now and then a pained exhale permeated the room.
"Isn't there anything you can give him to make him more comfortable?" Tony asked the question on Clint's mind.
"No, we can't. We've already got him on enough morphine to down a horse and as he's healing, more energy is being re-routed back into his natural bodily functions, like his metabolism. He's ack to chewing through drugs faster than we can administer them. In fact, it shouldn't be long before he wakes up I'd say.
Ten minutes later, Bruce's prediction came true. Clint was watching Steve's face when he sawa twitch, unlike the pained movements that had been occurring since they'd arrived.
"Banner." Clint was standing immediately, quickly pushed away as Bruce switches into a medical mode.
"Steve, can you hear me?" There was a distressed whimper in response, a sound everyone was worried to hear from the stoic World War II vet. "Steve."
The soldier went from asleep to awake in nought of a second, shooting upright with a cry. He turns eyes, gazed with panic upon each face in the room before shooting out of bed.
Steve was sick of waking up cold. And this time, he was cold as he could only remember ever being once. The ice. Suddenly panicked, he flinched. No one would be this cold unless they were being frozen. Steve was the only person on the planet that could attest to that.
"Steve can you hear me?" The voice must be one of the people trying to freeze him. Suddenly terrified, Steve tried to cry out for help, for someone to save him, but all that came out was a pitiful sound he'd be embarrassed of any other time.
"Steve." It was the voice again and that time the panic he was feeling is enough to override any weakness he was feeling. His eyes shot open even as his body jolted up. He looked around at the people crowding his bed but could make neither heads or tails of them and tried to escape. There's shouts as he headed towards the door but his only thoughts were of getting away, to somewhere warm. He tried to open he door but someone had tied up his hands, he couldn't move them. Another cry passed his lips and he hip-and-shouldered the door, a feeling of satisfaction as it fell off its' hinges. He made it ten steps out the door before his legs gave out. The voices were closer and he was terrified because they're going to freeze him again and no, he can't do that again, no anything but that. He curled up as small as he could, the last line in his fallen defence.
"Shit, he's out of it." Steve was scrabbling at the door before anyone had a chance to blink, and in the second Natasha was about to restrain him, he gave up on the handle and broke down the door, a bullet flying out into the medical floor. The team gave chase but it was short, Steve's weak body quickly buckled under the strain and even as they shouted and tried to catch him, he's curled up in a ball on the floor. As Tony, Bruce, Clint and Natasha reached to touch him, it was Thor as the surprising voice of reason. "Halt," and the scrabbling stopped. "The captain has experienced this cold before, yes? This action will only be scaring him. Wounds of the mind are every bit as severe as those of the body and the captain is hurt worse than most. We must be gentle." Without a reply, the god was crouching, reaching an uncharacteristically gentle hand towards the whimpering ball on the floor. With the new silence, small words could be made out.
"No, please, no more cold. No more, no more, no more."
As Thor's hand landed on Steve's shoulder he jerked back as if burnt, but Thor persisted, keeping a hand on the shivering man.
"Friend Steven. You are amongst comrades. The cold will not get you whilst in our care. Let us protect you." Without another word, his sweeping red cape was placed over Steve, tucked in around the edges with a motherly touch.
"It is okay Steve. We are here for you."
"Thor?" A quiet voice asks, and the man (or God) in question's face lights up.
"Tis I. Is your mind in the present Captain?" Steve's face, haggard and scared, looked up, and suddenly he was every bit the young boy cast into a war he was not ready for as he was seventy years ago.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to panic. Just," he sighed. "I'm sorry."
Thor looked saddened as he responds. "No apologies are needed for your suffering Steven. But you are ill and in need of more suitable boarding's than a floor and a cape. May we assist you in getting back to a better resting place?" Without looking up, Steve gave a small nod. Thor looked at Clint, sensing that Steve's pride was hurt enough without being swept up like bride, and together, they hooked arms underneath Steve's own, lifting the soldier to hit feet. They slowly made their way back to the bed, moving at a pace that allowed Steve to believe he was still walking while still taking all his weight. Regardless, by the time they laid him back on the bed, his eyes were barely open and he turned from them, facing the wall and drawing the covers. He was asleep before anyone can say a word.
Natasha was worried about Steve. He'd been in the hospital for three days before being discharged with nearly healed wounds. Including the time he caught a rogue missile, it was his longest hospital stay since he joined the Avengers. The team had been too busy finishing up the last of the clean-up efforts to spend time with him, but it would take a fool to say everything was okay. Despite the blonde being apparently asleep every time they visited, the circles under his eyes showed anything but. Sadly, Steve was an adult, and once discharged, there was nothing anyone could do to force him to take care of himself. And being able to do nothing was perhaps the worst burden of them all.
Steve knew he should be feeling better. He'd had three days for recovery since being released; the snow has stopped and the Avengers were no longer needed to help the city. But sitting on the tiny couch in the sitting room on his floor, dressed head to toe in thick clothes and layered by blankets, Steve felt like crap. He couldn't shake the cold. He didn't remember falling in the snow or the hours and even day afterwards, but he remembered the cold and it had stayed with him since. He'd been shivering since he woke up nearly five days ago. If the cold itself wasn't bad enough, the nightmares that came with it were. His hands should have been one hundred percent healed, but they were still pink and sore; he'd not gotten a full night's sleep since the incident and it was taking its toll on his healing. He hunkered down on the couch as another shiver wracked through his frame in time with a knock on the door. He slid down where he sat. He'd been avoiding the team since he was discharged, embarrassment from his stupidity and outbursts in the hospital keeping him from interreacting with them. Rationally, he should have recognised he was in a hospital and of course no one would ever freeze him again. Rationally.
"You look like shit." Steve looked up to see Tony, the rest of the team right on his heal. And Steve knew. Because he hadn't eaten since at least yesterday and when he went to the bathroom last his face was already beginning to look gaunt. "Movie night. We've decided we're crashing your floor." It was then Steve noticed the piles of blankets and mountains of food being carted in by his teammates.
"I think I'm just going to head to bed." He moved to get up, avoiding eye contact.
"Nuh-uh." The softest push from Tony had Steve falling back to his seat and yeah, he probably should eat something but the thought of food was making him feel ill. "You can sleep here if you really want but you'll stay here. Steve looked around to where the rest of the team were already settling in, and gave a resigned sigh.
"Fine."
Steve looked terrible. He was thinning from a lack of food and if the panda-face was anything to go by, it'd been a long while since he'd slept. The movie had been going for nearly forty-five minutes and Tony knew he wasn't the only one watching Steve's head bob up and down as he fought sleep. Tony subtly switched the volume down a few dials and he can see as Natasha began to run her fingers through Steve's hair from where she'd curled next to him. It only took a few minutes of the repetitive motion before Steve's head nodded down to his chin and didn't come back. He felt the room let out a breath and they settled in, beginning to watch the movie in earnest for the first time. The peace didn't last any more than five minutes however, before a cry turned their attention back to Steve and the gasping breaths coming from his chest. It was clear any rest Steve had gotten was not peaceful. Tony was suddenly subjected to the biggest death stare he'd ever received (and that includes the countless times he's pissed off Fury). Steve stood, not paying attention to Natasha at his side.
"Are you all happy now?" He barked, looking from one person to another.
"Steve…" Bruce trailed off, unsure what to say. As Steve turned to walk away though, he swayed, and the doctor was quickly at his side. "Steve what are you doing to yourself?" He asked, a hand around the blonde's shoulder.
"What am I doing to myself? What am I doing to myself?" Tony had never seen Steve this mad. "I'm not doing anything! I'm lying around here, useless, with hands that refuse to be hands, doing absolutely nothing because I can't take being a little cold! What kind of leader has a breakdown because they spent too long outside without their mittens huh?" Steve panted, the lack of sleep and food making all tasks strenuous. Tony stood, suddenly feeling as mad as Steve looked. He pushes he solider back to his seat. "Sit down before you fall. You did not break down. You had a panic attack, very reasonably I might add, because you were subject to something that once took away your life and everything you knew and casted you into a whole new world! You had a right to panic. You had a right to have nightmares and dammit you have a right to be scared! Get it through your thick skull that fear isn't a weakness. It's a strength to acknowledge your fear and if you'd take your head out of your ass for a minute you'd realise that there's another five people around here that could have helped you!"
Steve was suddenly quiet. "I'm not supposed to be scared though. I'm meant to be a perfect solider and perfect soldiers aren't scared."
Everyone was silent for a second, but Natasha was the fist to move. "Steve, honey," and Tony had never seen her display anything that close to care. "You were thrown into your worst nightmare. Being scared makes you human. You're human Steve."
"But that hurts." Steve's voice cracked. "I was so scared and I'm so tired and I just want to sleep but every time I close my eyes I'm back in the ice."
Without words, the team descend on Steve, everyone touching him in some way, comforting him as tears the soldier tries to hold back pour forth. The stayed like that for a long time before Bruce stood, everyone taking his lead and moving back. Steve looked washed out, eyes drooping and resembling the sickly boy he'd been before the serum.
"Alright. I'm going to heat up a thing of soup, give you some and then you're going to sleep. Right here. We'll all stay and when you find yourself back in the ice we'll bring you back." Bruce headed towards the kitchen, cutting off any argument. He returned quickly with a mug that Steve's hands were in no condition to hold. Clint took it.
"You've done this for me before Cap, remember after Dubai?" Steve nodded drowsily as the archer knelt by his side. The soup was tipped towards the soldiers chapped lips, and within minutes it was gone. Everything wa looking up until Steve paled further before blanching, letting lose a gag accompanied by a thin stream of undigested soup that made a reappearance. With agility from years of teamwork, Natasha pushed Steve forward as Clint raised the mug back to his mouth and the sick was caught. Steve's face burned red, but Thor quickly scolded the embarrassment.
"Alright Steve," Bruce chimed. "No stress. We'll discuss your idiocy when you've had some sleep but for now I'll grab some more okay?" Steve shook his head, tears of exhaustion gathered in his eyes, the expression of a stubborn child. "It's ok Steve." Bruce said, as if to a child and it was a testament to Steve's dwindling lucidity that he didn't call him on it. "We'll only have a little bit and then you can go to sleep." Bruce didn't mention the IV line he'd establish when the soldier lapsed into sleep.
The tears slipped past Steve's eyelids but he nodded.
Ten minutes later, a smaller batch of soup had gone down more slowly but more successfully than the last. Steve was pulled against Thor on the couch, blankets tucked around them.
"Sleep Captain." Steve's eyes closed and within seconds his breathing evened out. Tony was the first to speak. "I've never seen him like that. I forget sometimes but he's just a kid." And really, he was. But as the avengers settled around their captain, knowing he would be okay because they wouldn't let anything else come to pass, it was alright. Because young or not, Steve wasn't alone. And he'll never would be again.