A/N: Ah, chapter two. And, surprise, surprise, we've got a story in the works! Hopefully, it will be a story that some of you enjoy reading.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The machines kept a steady rhythem. They didn't falter, weren't swayed by opinions or past events, and kept track of what was really important. And, out of everything in the hospital, they were the only thing that he was willing to trust. Even the doctors, kind as they had been, told nothing but lies.
Not enough time had passed yet for them to make a decision. To try and tell Steve that there wasn't anything more to be done. That, if Tony didn't wake up soon, then there was no hope of him ever doing so. And their words of how unlikely that would be didn't mean a thing to the spangled man.
Even the other Avengers weren't telling him the truth. They all gave Steve sympathetic looks and helpful pats on the back. We understand, they all said, and it'll be fine. But they didn't. Not in the slightest.
Their hearts hadn't stopped beating when Tony didn't get back up after Shirav shot at him.
Blood hadn't boiled when Tony's started to flow. It hadn't turned to ice when the paramedics arrived and took him away on a stretcher.
The other Avenger's had been able to focus on things aside from their injured leader. Steve hadn't.
Because, when he looked down at Tony, who should have been up and about and yelling at him for going so overboard against Shirav, all that Steve had felt was fear. And it was swallowing him up from the inside out. Breaking him down while he sat there and waited for what might never come.
And listened to the almost mocking sound of the machines keeping track of the time that Tony had left.
