Disclaimer: The characters depicted here are not owned by me. All hail Marvel.
Author's Note: If you are one of the two people left on Earth who haven't seen Avengers, go see the movie, then come back and read this. Mild spoilers.
Is It Permanent
The six of them sat around the only table in the place. An employee was silently sweeping in the corner, averting her eyes from the group of all-powerful beings leading a mass takeover of her restaurant.
It was Tony's idea. None of the others – except maybe Thor – were very enthusiastic about the suggestion, but no one was going to deny the man who flew through a portal with a nuke on his back of his request. The team gathered in the little New York restaurant after handing Thor's psychotic brother over to S.H.I.E.L.D. They ordered the only thing on the menu. Shawarma. They were bruised and battered, but congregated anyway. After all, Stark was buying.
Thor inhaled another shawarma and Tony wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. Bruce messaged his forehead, trying to assuage his pounding headache. Clint and Natasha sat facing each other, Clint's legs propped on Natasha's chair and Natasha picking meekly at her food.
Steve shifted his weight and rested his angular chin on his fist, his tired blue eyes peeking out from under drooping lids. His shawarma sat untouched on the plate in front of him. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't restless like he had been since he'd woken up in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s 40's themed recovery room. He was just... tired. Extremely tired. Drained. That's the word. Steve felt as if his body had been completely drained of all tangible energy. He hadn't felt like this since... When? Before Dr. Erskine's experiment? No, that couldn't be. He thought back to his time with the Howling Commandos. Never after one of his missions with them had he ever felt this physically exhausted. Tired? Yes, but a quick nap and a couple plates of chow and he was good as new. This was different.
Steve took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. His whole body ached. The damn Chitauri had shown no mercy for the entirety of the battle. And they had just kept coming. He remembered his relief when Natasha's voice came over their communication link, insisting she could close the portal. "Do it!" he'd practically screamed. Make this stop, he'd thought. He cringed, remembering Tony telling her to wait, telling her not to halt the onslaught. He was forced to grit his teeth and keep fighting, fight until the end. That blow from the Chitauri staff had almost finished him. It had ripped through his suit and knocked him to the ground, but he had gotten up and kept fighting until the moment the nuke detonated and the Chitauri forces stopped. Until Stark was safely back on Earth. Until they had apprehended the treacherous Loki. Until the end.
His hand drifted to the wound. Blood had hardened around the edges, the skin still raw under the frayed whole in his star-spangled garb. Tony cleared his throat, snapping Steve out of his reverie.
"So..." he mumbled, "Shawarma?"
"Delicious, Man of Iron!" Thor roared, scaring the living daylights out of the lady behind the counter. Most of the team chuckled. Steve smiled weakly. Tony noticed and shot the captain a concerned look.
"What about you, Rogers?" he asked, "Shawarma?"
Steve leaned back in his chair and glanced uncertainly at his uneaten shawarma. "It's..." he faltered and slid off of his chair, hitting the ground with a solid thud.
~A~
Captain America ran quickly through the Hydra headquarters, looking frantically into room after room. He'd already freed the captured men, but one was missing. His best friend was missing. He finally found Bucky Barnes strapped to a table, presumably tortured by Hydra.
"I thought you were dead," he said, clutching his friend.
"I thought you were smaller," Bucky responded.
Steve helped Bucky from the room, alarms blaring in the distance. They had to get out. Quickly. Bucky, not surprisingly, was full of questions regarding Steve's transformation. Steve led the way, Bucky spout inquiries.
"Did it hurt?"
"A little."
"Is it permanent?"
~A~
Steve's eyes snapped open. He gasped and sat bolt upright, his eyes alert, scanning the room for threats. The room was small with white walls and a matching door. The window on the opposite wall was open and a warm breeze wafted into the room. Steve swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. What the… he thought, racking his brain, searching for the last thing he remembered. Shawarma. But then what?
The door creaked open and a woman dressed in white scrubs walked in holding a clipboard. Her eyes widened when she saw that Steve was sitting up, his legs dangling off of the hospital bed. "Captain!" she shouted, frantically rushing over to the bed, "Please lie back down. You have to rest."
"What happened?" he questioned, ignoring the nurse, "Where am I?"
"Stark Tower," another voice said. Natasha was standing quietly in the doorway. Her face was peppered with cuts and small bandages. She walked in and rested her hand on the nurse's shoulder. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll take it from here."
The nurse gave her a wary look and then retreated from the room.
Natasha walked over and stood at the foot of the bed. "Lie down, Steve."
Steve obliged. He didn't want to upset the Black Widow.
She gave him a quizzical look. He had always been a legend to her. The super-soldier, lost at sea and never found. Her S.H.I.E.L.D. training had addressed him as something of a lost deity. She'd read his mission reports, tales of his exploits, and heard endless stories from Coulson. But now that she'd met him, fought with him, he wasn't really a legend anymore. He was a soldier. He was a teammate. He was a good man. And now he was hurt and there was nothing she could do to help him. Natasha didn't like feeling helpless. They sat in silence, staring at each other for more than an appropriate amount of time. Steve broke the silence.
"Stark Tower?"
"Stark Tower," Natasha confirmed, "The recovery ward. Thor flew you here after you… collapsed." She pointed to the window. "We're right under Stark's penthouse. The window isn't open, it's broken."
Steve smirked, picturing the look on Tony's face when he first realized how damaged Stark Tower was. He settled into the pillows and noticed for the first time that he was hooked up to a dozen or so machines. Close to twenty wires protruded from his arms and chest. A wave of nausea hit him and he grimaced.
"What happened to me?"
Natasha sighed and closed her eyes. "It's not permanent, Steve."
Silence again. Steve didn't understand. He felt weak, his mind was foggy and his vision kept fading in and out.
"I don't…" he trailed off.
"The serum, Steve," Natasha said, answering his unasked question. "It's wearing off."
His eyes widened. He looked down at his hands, studying the calluses created from wielding his shield. His eyes traveled up his arm, the toned muscles, the defined veins, the recently inflicted cuts and bruises. He concentrated on the bruises. It'd been, what, a day since the battle with the Chitauri? Maybe more. He wasn't sure how long he was unconscious. Either way, it didn't matter. With his enhanced abilities, they should have been gone. Or at least faded. These looked worse than they had after the battle. Come to think of it, he felt worse. All over. Everything ached and he felt like the Hulk had crushed him until his muscles turned to Jello.
One of the machines started violently beeping. He swayed and put his hand to his head.
"Steve?" Natasha said and moved to his side, hand outstretched.
"Na…tash…a?" Steve stammered, his vision was blurring and fading, his head pounding and his heart racing.
"Steve!" her voice was distant now, over powered by the beeping and the sound of footsteps storming into the room.
~A~
"…stable. Muscle deterioration is at twenty percent," chimed a familiar robotic voice.
"Thanks, JARVIS," Tony murmured, "Turn off the anesthesia."
"Already done, sir," JARVIS said, "Captain Rogers is regaining consciousness."
"Good," Tony said, "Now pump the pain killers up to eleven."
"Yes, sir."
Steve's eyes fluttered open. Tony's face was hovering over him.
"Morning, gorgeous," he said.
Steve looked at him incredulously. "Wha-?"
Bruce's head appeared next to Tony's. They both looked extremely tired. Tony had a couple of bloody gashes on his face and Bruce had the beginnings of a black eye. Or was it just a big, dark circle from lack of sleep? "You went into cardiac arrest, Captain," Bruce said.
"We brought you back," finished Tony, patting his arm.
Steve suddenly cried out in pain. His arm felt like it burst into flames from the point of Tony's touch. Pain licked up his arm and tore through the rest of his body. His back arched off the bed and the machines beeped frantically. He screamed.
"Steve, stop!" Bruce shouted, stepping quickly away from the bed, his hands held in the air like some accused criminal.
"JARVIS! Stop the meds!" Tony ordered, taking a large step back as well.
"Yes, sir," Jarvis replied. "Captain Rogers is losing consciousness."
"Shit," Tony cussed, not so calmly. "Steve!" Tony shouted over Steve's tortured screaming, "Come on, man, hang in there. Come on!" Tony turned a dial on a machine and stabbed a syringe into Steve's chest.
The pain subsided and Steve lay panting on the exam table. He was no longer in Stark Tower's recovery room but had been moved to one of Tony's workshops. Display screens with complicated symbols and text covered the walls and even more wires were attached to his body. He was shirtless and his whole body gleamed with sweat. He felt like a science experiment. The feeling was familiar.
"What the hell was that!" Tony demanded.
"Muscle deterioration is at thirty percent," JARVIS announced. A string of cuss words exploded from Tony's lips. Bruce was leaning tiredly against the wall, breathing heavily, his hands messaging his forehead. Tony moved quickly to Steve's side, careful not to touch his suffering friend. Was friend even the right word for their relationship? Tony wondered in the back of his mind. He'd barely met the man and hadn't even spent any time with him where they weren't battling an insane demi-god and his alien army. He glanced at Bruce out of the corner of his eye. He had developed a special bond with them. All of them. Bruce, Steve, Clint, Thor, even the infamous Natasha Romanoff. They were all linked now, whether they liked it or not. And Tony thought "friend" was as appropriate a word as any.
"Steve," Tony said urgently, "Steve, can you hear me? It's Tony. Tony Stark. Iron Man. The genius, billionaire, playboy," he made a sweeping motion with his hand, "You know the rest. Where is the pain localized? I need to run a series of tests on your neurotransmitters and – "
"Speak… English," Steve mumbled weakly.
Tony broke into a smile and Bruce let out a sigh of relief. "Steve, we need you to open your eyes now," Bruce instructed, "Open your eyes and shift your weight a bit." Steve's eyes were tightly shut and his jaw was clenched but the rest of his body was limp, which worried Bruce. He was thinking paralysis. It didn't seem likely, but neither he nor Tony fully understood what they were dealing with. Dr. Erskine was frustratingly vague when recording his research.
"Everything hurts," Steve muttered, but slowly opened his eyes. He was never one to give in to pain. This was becoming his personal test. He was testing not his physical, but mental endurance. He gasped with pain as he flexed his muscles, head to toe. Everything moved, but everything hurt.
Tony and Bruce exchanged nervous looks. Steve grimaced. "What is it?" he asked, "What's happening to me? Natasha said the serum was…" he faltered. What was the serum doing? Failing? Natasha had said, "wearing off," but Steve couldn't quite wrap his head around that. His mind flashed to Bucky again. His questions. "Is it permanent?" Bucky had said. "So far," Steve had responded. So far. The words burned themselves into his brain. So far.
"Steve," Bruce said gently, "We don't know exactly what is going on but, yes, the serum seems to be…" he looked at Tony, visibly fumbling for the right word.
"Halting? Failing? I don't know," Tony said, "But it appears that your damn super-cells are killing each other."
"Stark," Bruce cautioned.
"He needs to know," Tony insisted, "Maybe he can even help. He's the only one still alive that was directly involved with Erskine's experiments." Tony sat at the foot of Steve's bed. Steve winced as pain shot up his leg, but grit his teeth and focused on the man in front of him. He could see Tony's gears turning, figuring out the best way to explain to him what was going on. Translating his technical thoughts into common English. "Your body's cells," Tony began, "were each individually enhanced by Dr. Erskine's serum. But now something is happening, all the way down on the cellular level, to undo that enhancement." Tony shot a frustrated glance at Bruce. "I can't explain this. You do it."
Bruce sighed and continued, "We believe your cells are beginning to attack each other, which is causing your body to slowly deteriorate, starting with the muscle built by the serum."
"Not really beginning," Tony added, "Thirty percent of your muscle mass has already destroyed itself."
"Actually, sir," JARVIS droned, "Forty percent."
"Damn," Tony said under his breath and adjusted some dials on a machine. "Steve, just look down. See for yourself."
Steve shifted his head painfully so that he could glance at his chest. What he saw scared him. Which was hard to admit. Not much scared Captain America. But based on what he saw, he wasn't Captain America anymore. He was turning back into that scrawny kid with the five exempts.
Steve stared at Bruce. Then at Tony. Then closed his eyes. "You're trying to tell me that the serum has turned my cells into, what, cannibals or something?"
"Uh, yeah," Tony said distractedly, "If you wanna put it that way, sure." His brow furrowed and he gestured to Bruce. "Hey, Banner, come here a sec, would you?"
Bruce walked quickly over to Tony, careful not to bump or brush up against Steve. It seemed, evident from the screams emitted earlier, that touching the captain sped up the deterioration. Laying a finger on his skin was like setting off a horrible, destructive reaction within his cells. Bruce's face bore a nearly permanent expression of angst. He was worried about Steve. Worried about the team. They were a time bomb. He honestly wasn't sure how long it would last, especially if they lost the captain.
Tony pointed to a specific number on the display screen. "Look at that."
Bruce's jaw clenched and he messaged his forehead again. Bruce felt like that was all he did when the "other guy" wasn't flaunting his might.
Steve was lying still on the exam table, staring dejectedly at his disappearing muscle mass. It seemed to Tony that the man was having a hard time accepting the fact he may never bench 800 again.
Tony cocked his head slightly. An idea was forming. "It's the serum," he said to Bruce, "The serum needs something. Something that'll reverse the damage already done by it and exemplify the serum's initial results. Something like – "
"A booster shot." Clint was leaning against the doorjamb. ACE pressure bandages were wrapped from his shoulders to his wrists on both arms. A butterfly bandage covered a cut on his forehead and his eyes were hidden behind dark shades. Bruce, Steve, and Tony looked at the door. The man was like a phantom. Who knows how long he'd been standing there.
Tony snapped his fingers, a triumphant spark in his eye. "Yeah," he said, "Yeah, that's it! A booster shot. Something to kick the serum into over drive again and get the Star-Spangled Super Soldier back on his feet."
"But how?" Bruce asked, "A booster shot made of what? Let's face it, hundred's have tried to replicate Dr. Erskine's experiment and, well, failed. Miserably." He flexed his shoulder muscles uncomfortably, his purple shirt straining against his skin.
"Gamma's out of the question," Tony said, "But what about this?" he tapped his arc reactor, "This element is powerful. An energy masterpiece, if I do say so myself. If we could condense it, turn it into an injection, maybe throw in a bit of Cap's genetic code, it'd be like steroids for a genetically enhanced mutant."
Steve snorted. Genetically enhanced mutant. Tony was running out of snarky nicknames for him.
"That," Bruce punched a few things into the a computer and scanned the resulting text, "Might just work."
"You're welcome," Clint mumbled and walked away casually down the hall.
~A~
Natasha walked slowly into the workshop. Bruce and Tony were off in some other lab working on their super-serum-booster-shot and Steve was sitting solemnly on the exam table, his feet hanging limply over the edge. His chin was resting on his chest. She thought he might be sleeping but the steady, regular beeping from one of the machines told her he wasn't. He looked different. Not just because he was significantly less muscular than two days ago, but also because he seemed to have some enormous weight on his shoulders. She sat lightly next to him on the bed. Steve opened his eyes and rolled his neck until they were fixed on the ceiling. He sighed. Natasha could see that he was in pain.
"They say my cells are destroying each other," Steve practically whispered, "That my body is deteriorating."
"I know," she said softly.
"Can you talk to Fury?" he breathed, "Tell him I'm gonna need a ride to my apartment and a bottle of Scotch."
Natasha looked at his chest. His breathing was shallow and irregular. He was falling apart. "Why?" she asked.
"Well I figure if the serum is wearing off I can get drunk again."
"No," she said, "Why do you want to go back to your apartment? We're not done yet." When Steve didn't respond she continued softly, "Negotiations for Loki's placement are being made as we speak. My guess is he'll go back to Asgard with Thor. We're going to need Captain Amer – "
"I'm not Captain America anymore!" Steve shouted. He sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest again with a pained grimace. Natasha studied his face. His cheeks were sunken in and the skin below his eyes drooped slightly. He had his eyes closed tightly, lines forming above his nose where his brow furrowed.
"Don't do this to yourself," Natasha chided. She felt like she'd used that phrase one too many times already.
"I'm not doing this to myself," Steve said, "I didn't choose this in the first place. Dr. Erskine chose me. I'm glad he did, don't get me wrong, but now…" he trailed off. He wanted to help people. That was all. And he couldn't do that anymore if he could hardly run a mile without passing out. Dr. Erskine's experiment was the best thing that ever happened to him. He could finally make a difference. Now he felt helpless and used up. He was done. There was nothing to do but slip into a drunken stupor and wait out his days.
"Steve," Natasha said, "Look at me." He did. Her gorgeous eyes stared into his. He saw the concern on her usually impossible to read face. Did she actually care about him? "Captain America isn't just a muscular guy in a suit with a shield," she said, "Captain America is a leader and a good man. He's damn smart when it comes to tactics and he'll do anything to help someone in need."
Steve looked away from her, but Natasha saw the beginnings of a smile brush across his face. "Steve, suit or no suit, muscles or no muscles, you are Captain America. Captain America is in here," she tapped his chest lightly with the tip of her finger, "and he's not going anywhere."
They sat in silence next to each other, neither willing to talk anymore. Natasha felt like she'd been doing most of the talking recently anyway. Steve was quietly ruminating on what she'd said, and how she'd said it. She reminded him so much of Peggy. Strong, intelligent, not afraid to speak her mind or stand up for herself, yet always ready and willing to follow orders, when said orders were reasonable. As much as he hated to admit it, the Black Widow was growing on him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought she may be manipulating him in some S.H.I.E.L.D. driven way, but he brushed off the thought. He needed her right now.
Steve shifted his weight. "Don't move, okay?" he said almost inaudibly. He leaned over slowly and rested his head on Natasha's shoulder. It was unprofessional. Uncalled for. Completely unlike him. She was his teammate. Not to mention he'd barely met her. But at the moment, Steve didn't really care about any of that. The tension in his shoulders relaxed and he sighed again. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Natasha said gently. Her red curls brushed his sandy hair. He smelled like soot. Natasha smiled to herself, realizing he hadn't had a chance to shower off after the battle. Steve's appearance was hardly ever less than regulation and she figured if he wasn't hooked up to a hundred of Stark's machines his hair would be perfectly gelled and combed, his clothes clean and pressed.
"They'll fix this, right?" Steve whispered.
"Right," Natasha whispered back.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! What did you think? This is my very first go at writing fanfic so PLEASE give me feedback! If you guys liked this maybe I'll venture out and write some more...