C for Cardiac Arrest
Okey dokey, my fellow mutants, here is Chapter "C". IM SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG, IM MOVING INTO UNIVERSITY, SUE ME. This is going to be very angsty with emotional talks and some really really really bad whump. Trigger warning for kind of main character death but not really. Phil will also be making a guest appearance. Thank you everyone who reviewed! Even the criticism – especially the criticism! Like I said, these are my first few batches of Avenger's fics, and I don't want to be OOC, so I appreciate all the help I can get.
ALSO IMPORTANT PLEASE TAKE NOTE I will be moving into college very soon, and my life is very hectic. I will try to get D (which is already finished) uploaded in a timely manner, and then you may not hear much of me for a week or two. Please forgive me. I'm trying to become edumacated.
The debriefing room was abuzz with energy. Papers and files were being tossed around like confetti. Voices were raising and falling in cresting tides of tension, and those who had spoken them came and went just as quickly. World leaders were projected onto the wall, allowing them to literally look down and deliver their own feverous speeches and give sound to their uproar. SHIELD agents who were "in-the-know" sat, scared and listless, watching the executive chains of their organization behave like absolute animals. From what anyone could make out, at least seven different languages were being shot around the room like bullets. The visibly shaken translators were trying their best to handle the arguments, but eventually the German aid began to cry, quickly followed by Latvia – once Sweden left, the Chinese translator just sat down in the corner and curled up into a ball.
Captain Steve Rogers sat just to the right of the intimidating form of Nick Fury. The One-eyed man was standing at the head of the long, dark table. His single eye ablaze. He pounded his fist on the table, and raised it quickly up again to point accusingly at the live feed of the SHIELD intelligence supervisor.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'WE DON'T KNOW'?! YOU'RE JOB IS TO KNOW!" The man was shaking with barely controlled anger. In a normal day at SHIELD headquarters, an outburst like that from the Director would have had everyone freezing in spot, but today, it only escalated the conditions in the room. People began pacing; talking hurriedly into cell phones, going from hushed tones to demanding frustration. Everybody was trying to figure out what had happened - why everything had gone so wrong.
Steve remained in his chair. He looked at nothing but a small thread that was sticking out of his uniform. He plucked at it and played with it, just to distract himself. There was nothing for him here, anyway. He was here as a figure head – a bouncer, even, if things went horribly wrong in the conference room. Hell, he didn't know how much worse things could get at this point. This place was a zoo.
The poor Captain wanted nothing more than to get up from this uncomfortable swivel chair and go home – back to the tower, to be with his team. They should be together at a time like this. But no, he knew it was his duty to stay.
As a person, Stark always pretended not to understand honor and obligation. In fact, he had never missed a single opportunity to tease Steve about his own strict moralities. Steve closed his eyes, a bittersweet taste in his mouth. The truth was that Anthony Edward Stark was one of the most gallant and honorable men who ever walked the earth, but he would be the last one to acknowledge it.
For the first time all afternoon, Rogers lifted his head to take in the catastrophe that had been the debriefing room. Legal documentation was strewn everywhere, people were sitting in corners - anger, indignance, retaliation, and shock oozed from every speakerphone and screen. Everybody was trying to find out how it had happened - who had made the mistake. Was there a mole? Impossible, only 8 people had been privy to the route that was being taken – 6 of them Avengers. The other 2 were Phil Coulson and Nick Fury themselves. And how had their attackers had the capabilities to do…what they did? It had all come out of nowhere, nothing on the systems, no warning signs….
Steve returned his gaze to the stray thread on his leg. Let them work. He thought bitterly. It won't do anyone any good, now, anyway.
Everyone was searching desperately for the answer to the million dollar question.
Who killed Tony Stark?
48 Hours Earlier
Steve was dreaming of her. Kissing her bright red lips. Stroking her dark brown curls. Hearing her laugh, feeling her sizzling brilliance in his heart when she spoke. He could smell her shampoo, hear the rustle of her professional suits and the click-clicking of her heels.
Steve held her tight; they were the only two in the club. The music was slow, it was Saturday. The date that he had waited so long for happened every night in his mind. He could sway like this forever, doing nothing more than dance with her. Hearing her say his name over and over.
"Steve," he voice was a whisper. He held her tighter.
"I know, Peggy."
"No. Steve," she pulled away, suddenly. Harshly. Steve felt like he had been slapped.
"Peggy, what's wrong? Are you-"
"Steve, STEVE WAKE UP!"
Peggy's voice was deep and husky, her face morphing into…into…TONY?
"AHHHHH!" Steve shot up in bed, his chest heaving up and down, his eyes darting wildly around the room, settling on none other than the Man of Iron himself. Leave it to Stark to interrupt a perfectly good dream.
Needless to say, Steve was a little more than annoyed.
"Stark, I - what do you wa-"
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MISS AMERICA!" Steve's mouth fell completely open as Tony pulled a tray from behind his back. Red, white, and blue pancakes, topped-off with maple syrup and a little American flag, sat atop the finest (aka, least damaged) plate from the Avengers' kitchen.
Tony had on his Cheshire-cat smile, ear to ear, absolutely face-splitting. His giddiness was contagious, and Steve couldn't help but laugh aloud in his bedroom.
Still shocked, he gratefully accepted the breakfast in bed. It really did look delicious. Steve was genuinely, incredibly touched, and he set the plate to the side before quickly getting up and catching the smaller engineer in a bear hug before he had a chance to escape.
"Yah, well, I just hope they aren't poisonous." Tony brushed himself off from the hug. "Dummy helped me make them – there's no telling what he might have put in there."
"I'll be on the lookout, then. If they taste awful I'll just feed them to Barton."
Thank you.
"True, he's practically the family dog, anyway. He even farts too much when Banner makes him eat broccoli."
Don't mention it.
With a few head scratches and mumbled excuses, Tony left the birthday boy alone to eat his pancakes. Steve would have liked him to stay, but he knew Tony too well. He hated accepting praise for anything. He would be much more comfortable now retreating to his workshop for an hour or two until Steve could resist the urge to thank him again. Steve smiled to himself. Stark was quite the character.
The platter was cleared in minutes. They really were delicious pancakes.
Steve threw on a plain t shirt and carried his dirty dishes out to the kitchen. He smiled at the television in the corner of the living room. Tash was neatly tucked in to a corner of the couch watching the Fourth of July festivities on the news channel. She found the patriotism incredibly amusing. Steve remembered hearing her say once that nobody did the "patriotism thing" in Russia. They just assumed you loved your country – otherwise, people would come for you.
Steve was drying his fork and knife, placing them into their corresponding drawer trays, when the alarms went off. SHIELD logos interrupted the broadcast on the television screen and all of the Avengers felt their special issued pagers vibrate on their wrists. Fury was calling.
Like worker bees to a hive, the team flocked with well-practiced fluency into the Tower's main space as the Director's visage popped up onto the telecommunications screen.
"Director." Steve stood at attention, his team behind him in various positions. Romanoff had risen seamlessly from the couch, standing only slightly behind the birthday boy. Barton had come in from the elevator in his sweats, the call having interrupted his personal training session with Banner, who looked much worse for wear. The Hulk might possess unmatchable strength, but Bruce himself was an average Joe. Clint had been working with him, starting the good doctor on weights and running cautious cardio – obviously, heart rate was a concern, but the fitness program had been going well. Tony had just come up from his shop, a single grease smudge on his forehead. Thor was half naked rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Even as Fury had appeared on the screen, The Norse God was more concerned with finding his new box of pop tarts than the Midgardian's orders.
Fury took in their appearances, one by one, in a split second. He couldn't help the small flicker of pride and satisfaction – he had really created the best team in the world. He couldn't live too long in the moment, however. He had a job to do, and so did earth's mightiest heroes.
"Captain." Fury nodded, putting the soldier at ease. The mutual respect was always evident in both their voices.
"What are our orders, Sir?"
Fury shifted slightly, squaring his shoulders. "The full debrief will be available in the files I'm sending over to the tower shortly with Coulson. Like myself, this transpondence will be short and sweet," Tony scoffed. Fury was a dry man, but his humor was still appreciable. "SHIELD needs a certain package delivered to a secure location. That package is a certain Doctor Clarice Brunet. She is the world's leading expert in bionic humanoid creation, nanobiology, and life support systems. As an organization, we don't exactly have a use for her at this point, but this isn't a game of capture the flag, Lady and Gentlemen, this is a game of Keep away. Our ears around the globe have picked up valuable Intel that an unidentified terrorist cell wants Doctor Brunet to create an army of cyborg soldiers, outfitted with regenerative capabilities and human-integrated weapons systems that would prove almost impossible to destroy without extremely drastic measures. We wish to avoid this. Doctor Brunet will be taken into SHIELD protection services to keep her out of the reach of this terrorist cell. It is your job to ensure that her escort reaches the facility safely, securely, and confidentially. Only 8 people know of this mission, and 7 of them are part of this conversation. Dr. Brunet has no idea where we are taking her, and she only knows vaguely why."
It was Barton who interrupted. "Director, who is the eight person with clearance?"
"Hi. That's me." Phil smiled his soft Coulson smile and stepped into the room. He passed each Avenger a file folder with the outline of the mission. He finished the distribution and looked to the screen. "Good morning, Director, and may I say: Happy Independence Day."
"Good morning to you as well, Phil."
Coulson then turned slightly to Steve, his voice a little tighter. "And, um, Happy Birthday to you, Captain."
"Thank you, Coulson. And please, like I have said before, just call me Steve."
"Right, yes. Happy Birthday, uh, Steve."
From across the room, Banner shared a teasing smile with Tony. They've all been working together now for almost two years and Agent Coulson still fangirls a little bit whenever he has to talk to the good captain.
"Anyway," Fury cleared his throat, clearly rescuing Coulson from further awkwardness, "Read up, team. You need to know this mission inside and out. No mistakes, no slip-ups, no excuses. And no security breaches. You speak to no one of this. Not even to each other – not until you're all reporting for the mission are any details to be discussed. Am I clear?"
All acknowledged their understanding.
"Good. I'm signing off." Almost as an afterthought, he added: "And good luck."
With that, Nick Fury disappeared from the screen. The news popped back on, the Red White and Blue decorations around the nation overpowering the broadcast. But Tash immediately shut it off. Even Tony and Barton were completely stoic. Each Avenger nodded to one another in silence and took their files to their respective spaces to be read, reread, and memorized. The folder contained instructions on the inside flap to report for duty at o-seven hundred hours the following morning.
It was gonna be a long night.
The landing strip at the SHIELD private air base was nipped with an early morning chill as the team stood on the tarmac. Each in full uniform, fully outfitted and prepared for whatever attempts may be made on the Doctor's well-being, they stood solemnly. They had read the files, they understood the cell they were up against. Even if everything went well, there was no telling what could happen afterwards.
They watched the stealth-jet land, its reflective "invisibility" panels retracting and its state-of-the-art repulsion engines landing softly and quietly on the ground. This mission was not about firepower or strength, it was about speed and secrecy.
That was clearly something that Thor was having a bit of trouble with.
"Why do we not face our enemies and attack? Ride out to meet them, put this intelligent woman above our armies in a golden chariot and taunt those who wish her for themselves until they are greatly angered!? Then there would be a great battle that could end heroically. I feel as a craven would, cowering from a villain I do not wish to confront."
"Thor, those aren't our orders. We are trying to avoid bloodshed." Steve seemed almost like a mother calming a bored child.
"But where is the justice in that, My Good Captain? Where is the valor? Are these men not evil? Are they not in the wrong? Did they not attack first?"
"Thor, this is not a – "
"No please," a warm, chocolatey voice with a slight accent interrupted the team's leader. "Let ze larger one finish. I especially liked ze part about putting me in a golden chariot and hoisting me into ze sky," the voice laughed, a beautifully chuckle lacking the vapidity of a high tinkling sound. "Comme un, Trophy, oui? Zat is ze word?"
The whole team faced the voice – well, the woman, obviously, that had spoken. Stunning was a word – though it seemed lacking.
Her foxlike jaw structure was accented with intelligent brown eyes. Dark brown curls framed a manicured appearance and tapered nose. Her lips were full and her chin was strong but soft. High cheekbones hollowed her face, but she was far from rail-thin. Well curved, and knowingly seductive, this woman alluded confidence, sensuality, and brains.
Tash smirked and approached the woman, knowing they would get along famously.
Steve blushed, muttering a "how do you do".
Thor smiled wide, then thought of his own beautiful Jane and joined the good Captain in a deep red face, followed by downturned eyes.
Tony, knowing Pepper would kill him, allowed himself only a quick moment of appreciation before walking over and shaking her hand. He introduced himself in perfect French and initiated a conversation about his appreciation of her work in subsystems and mechatronics. She would be a good friend to have, if nothing more.
Bruce, on the other hand, was in love.
The poor man felt himself start sweating. He brushed his fingers shakily through his hair. Oh god, he felt damp. Oh no, oh goodness gracious. Did he put on deodorant this morning? He had woken up late, he remembered shoving down a breakfast and brushing his teeth but deodorant was iffy – oh god, had he brushed well enough? Did his breath smell of stale coffee? A quick check… ok, he was fine on the breath front. Now, though – what to say. Hello? Hello seemed good. Hello, I am Doctor Bruce Banner. I specialize in gamma radiation and I turn green and destroy metropolitan areas when I throw temper tantrums.
Ok maybe not so specific. Maybe just hello. Short and sweet. He could do this.
Bruce was the last to make introductions, and he quickly wiped his right hand on his pant leg (just in case it was sweatier than he thought) and held it out for the introductory handshake. She took his hand and smiled. Oh god. It took his breath away, her smile. Perfect, full faced, reaching her eyes…the small crinkle right at the corner of those deep velvety brown pools…
"'Alo? Bonjour, I am Doctor-"
"BRUNET, YES I KNOW HELLO I AM BRUCE ALSO A DOCTOR. WE ARE BOTH DOCTORS. ISN'T THAT NIFTY? HELLO."
Bruce wanted to die.
Tony wanted to die for him, if his cringe was anything to go off of.
The French woman looked slightly alarmed and mildly confused. She muttered her niceties back to the now pained Dr. Banner, but was then promptly escorted by Coulson (who had stepped off the plane just behind her, not that anyone really noticed) to the awaiting SHIELD Humvee. The stealth-jet couldn't go where they needed. They were headed deep underground with this fine French flower. Literally. Underground.
The trek into the deep woods and the caverns was long and tedious. The Humvee drove at incredibly fast speeds. Coulson commandeered, and Steve sat shotgun. Widow sat in the backseat facing rear, never taking her eyes off the package who sat, oblivious, facing front behind the passenger seat. Bruce sat on the other side, reading through his memos, scribbling things. He had tried to distract himself from her presence, but every few minutes Tash would catch his straying glance. The French woman didn't notice his pining, nor did she notice the Russian's unfaltering gaze, as she was too buried in her scientific journals. Tash couldn't help but be reminded of Banner as Doctor Brunet absentmindedly pushed her reading glasses back up her nose and flipped through more pages of scrawled out notes on top of printed medical research. Bruce did the exact same only seconds later. They were certainly the odd pair.
Tony had eyes in the sky, his Mark X fully equipped for the same stealth technology on the jet. Thor was busy high above providing intense cloud cover for the mission. Barton, of course, was strapped to the roof, where he felt most at home. At least this time, he had agreed to actually let Natasha Strap him down.
They were at the mouth of the Caverns that would herald their dissension into the last leg of their journey to SHIELD's underground fortress, and at about the third hour of their journey, when the Humvee pulled over slowly to the side of the road. Nothing was wrong, there was no urgency to anyone's movements. Actually, everyone seemed quite bored. Absolutely nothing had gone wrong, nothing had come up, not a single attempt on anyone's life. It was quite a dull afternoon.
"Pee break," Coulson announced. Hey, even superheroes had to empty their bladders.
Agent Romanoff and Doctor Brunet walked quickly to tree cover while all the men politely turned the other way and used the other side of the road.
Barton had just zipped his fly when the static lifted the hairs on the back of his neck, followed quickly by the feeling of the air taking a deep breath in –
Then came the explosion.
The Humvee shot 40 feet into the sky, erupting in a ball of flames and smoke. Doctor Brunet, who had just cleared the tree line on her way back from the little girl's room, screamed loudly and clung to the visibly shocked Russian Assassin beside her.
After the initial surprise, the Team jumped into action.
"ROMANOFF, COULSON, BANNER, SECURE THE PACKAGE," Steve yelled forcefully over the crackle of the vehicle. "STARK, THOR, REGROUP, I REPEAT, REGR-"
The second explosion rocked the ground and threw Steve about fifteen feet into a solid pine tree by the side of the road. His head was spinning, partially from impact and partially from confusion – where were the missiles coming from? Were they even missiles? Nobody could have known their route, this shouldn't be happening – who was attacking them?
Steve groaned and got back to his feet. He glanced immediately to Dr. Brunet, relieved as he saw that she was unharmed and flanked on all sides by his team members. The familiar clunk of the iron man suit landed five feet behind him, and Steve turned.
"Stark, what could you see?" His voice was a sad attempt at calm. Tony made no such attempts.
"Cap, I literally saw nothing. NOTHING. I don't know where it came from, no radar detection whatsoever, no heat tracking - nada. Zilch. This is top of the line, stuff, Steve; if the Mark X can't pick it up nothing can. I don't know what's coming next. Thor is on his way down, he's increasing our cloud cover and conjuring a nasty electrical storm to throw any enemy systems off…At least that's the hope."
Steve nodded his approval. True to his word, a distinct rumble came from the heavens, and above the gray overcast sky, they saw intense flashes of lighting shooting out above their heads. No rain fell, however. Steve silently thanked the Asgardian for not permitting a downpour. It's hard enough to fight enemies you can't see – never mind while slippery and cold.
After a minute of hypervigilance, no more attacks came. Maybe Thor had done his job well enough that whoever was attacking them was no longer able to pinpoint their coordinates. Coulson whipped out his secure phone and radioed Fury for aid. Cover be damned, they would reattempt the package delivery another time. A quinjet was on its way. Thank God.
Dr. Brunet was a scientist, and unlike the team's resident Doctor, she was not a hero. She was not stone-cold in the face of danger. Rather, she felt on the verge of a breakdown. Tash had tried desperately to calm her down, but the woman was jumbling her English. So, Tony and Tash switched places, and Tony was stoically comforting the shaking Frenchwoman in his perfect Parisian while Tash walked over to join Steve and Clint. She had just planted her hand on Barton's shoulder to wordlessly announce her presence when her ears perked up involuntarily. Something was wrong. She put her finger to her lips, signaling for the rest of the team to go absolutely silent. Nobody missed Natasha's cue, and the group fell silent. Even Brunet ceased her blubbering and resigned herself only to silently shaking.
The only sounds around them now were the sounds of the wood. Or, it should have been that way.
But the wood was silent. Completely. Not a bird, not a bug, not even a spastic squirrel. It was wrong. Something was wrong.
Tony saw the pencil sized rocket moments before it made impact. He pushed Doctor Brunet roughly into Poor Doctor Banner, who caught her in shock but then dropped her because he had no idea where to put his hands. The rocket missed the pair by half a foot, slicing the air where the woman's torso would have been, and lodged itself instead in a background tree. Steve, reacting with his super human reflexes, managed to stanchion himself in front of his fleet on his side of the road, consisting of Barton and Romanoff, as they curled up in balls on the ground. His shield like a blast barrier, they all had only a split second for shelter.
Tony did the same for his group, spreading his body as wide as possible and dropping to his knees in front of the two scientists who had also fallen protectively to the ground in behind the Iron Suit
The tree exploded.
Shrapnel shot out in every direction – pieces of wood so sharp they pierced what was left of the Humvee's bulletproof shell. Steve even felt his shield ringing with the bouncing chunks. They shot out at the vulnerable bodies faster than bullets and deadlier than knives.
Tony couldn't help but feel the fear clench in his throat. Explosions. Shrapnel. Pain. He was on the verge of having a flashback to the desert – the caves – the car battery hooked up to his chest. But he swallowed his panic. He would deal with those feelings later.
The shrapnel flew, but luckily nobody was injured. They all considered themselves immensely lucky that not a single splinter had found its way to their bodies.
Steve brushed woodchips off his shield. "Whatever they have at their disposal, its some serious firepower. Coulson, put a rush on that bird. We need to get out of here, and quickly before –"
And suddenly the Cap's shield was up, stopping yet another projectile. But this was no explosive, this was an arrow head.
That's why you can imagine everyone's surprise when the damn thing cut through Steve's shield like butter and pushed out the other side.
"HOLY HELL!" Tony would have followed his cry with more expletives, but was cut off by Steve's yell at everyone to retreat. They were sitting ducks on the road, and now they knew that the enemies had weapons that rendered Steve's shield absolutely useless. Tony's mind was racing, looking for an explanation. The one that his mind settled upon left a very bad feeling deep in his gut. Adamantium was the only explanation – it was the only substance on earth that was stronger than vibranium. Adamantium arrowheads and missiles would pierce anything. tony shot a glance at the Team's fearless blonde leader - Steve had never felt so vulnerable.
"RETREAT, SECURE THE PACKAGE. RETREAT." The team raced through the forest, just narrowly dodging the arrows that meant absolute death. All the while, everyone's mind was locked in the same thought: How was this possible? SHIELD had contained all the adamantium on earth after the 3 mile Island fiasco with the mutants…who was behind all this?
The team managed to outrun their invisible foes for almost five minutes before they heard the quinjet's engines. The bird lowered to the ground in a fair sized clearing, opening the boarding hatch so the exhausted teammates could finish their sprint and collapse inside. Despite being at the head of the pack, Rogers turned and waited for everyone to load on board, dodging near miss after near miss of the adamantium-tipped arrows that threatened almost certain death.
While the quinjet's hull couldn't take a shot from the arrow, the moment the docking bay door was closed, the force field on the aircraft would kick in and protect the occupants. Until then, everyone was in danger.
Thor was flying high above shooting lightening down to burn trees and ruin the enemy's sheltered vantage points. Tony was providing as much cover as he could for the team as Steve ushered them into the rescue ship. He was blasting shots blindly into the forest, scorching the foliage. Sorry, Smoky the Bear, but I got bigger shit to worry about right now.
Tony was hurrying toward the quinjet, stepping backwards to never turn his back to enemy fire. Steve was calling him in. His shots were firing strong and true. Less and less arrows were being fired from the unseen terrors in the trees, he felt like he was winning. He turned to look at Steve.
He felt both of his feet land solidly on the docking bay. He felt the hydraulics begin to lift the door close.
He felt the quinjet begin to fly away, bringing them all to safety.
What he didn't feel was the adamantium arrow that pierced his chest plate and slide between his ribs right before the bay door shut and locked.
What he didn't feel was the slicing of his left atrium as his heart was cut clean in two.
What he didn't feel was his chest cavity filling with blood.
What he didn't feel was his body hit the ground.
What he didn't feel was the reverberating panic in Natasha's voice as she screamed his name.
What he didn't feel was the blood erupt from his mouth and nose.
What he didn't feel was the tears of Clint Barton fall onto his face as the archer knelt by his limp body.
What he didn't feel was the wracking sobs of Steve's chest as he held on to Tony for dear life.
Tony Stark died too quickly to feel a thing.
Back to present day
Steve got back to the Avengers tower late that night. But he didn't take any special care to be quiet as he slipped off his shoes and threw his keys in the tray by the suite's entrance. He knew nobody would be asleep.
Steve hung his jacket on the peg, closing his eyes and rubbing fiercely at the bridge of his nose, trying to pinch the fatigue and sadness from his face. It just made it worse, of course – every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tony lying there – lifeless eyes, limp body, and the blood – there had been so much blood.
With a bracing breath, Steve entered the common room. Tash was sitting on the couch. But this time, she wasn't tucked neatly and precisely. She was swaddled in blankets, staring at the TV – but it wasn't even on. Her face was blank, her gaze was absent. Steve was tempted to sit down beside her and offer a shoulder. But he knew her too well. She would mourn in her own way. For now, she needed to shut herself off.
Despite the many similarities between the two resident assassins, Barton was handling everything in the exact opposite way. Steve entered the kitchen to find the Archer sitting on the floor, the refrigerator door wide open. Clint's back was propped up against the fridge shelves. In his lap was a bucket of ice cream and a box of Thor's pop tarts. The archer looked up at Steve through bloodshot eyes, tears threatening at any moment, almost daring Steve to tell him off. Rogers said nothing. Barton silently thanked him and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the produce drawer and spooning another mouthful between his lips.
Thor had eaten nothing for the past two days. Not even a pop tart and a pint of coffee could tempt the Asgardian. Though, he was still somehow pleasant company, ready with a gracious smile or a grinning "thank you" to Coulson when he stopped by to drop off groceries. The Norseman even tried cracking jokes every few hours or so…but Steve would catch him when nobody was looking – the large blonde hero sat sullenly, silently. Eyes closed and chin quivering. The man of Iron had been a great friend to the Royal Warrior. Every night, Thor prayed to his father to give him an honorable seat in Valhalla.
Banner had buried himself in his work. Nobody had seen him come out of his lab since they got home. Frankly, nobody dared go down. Banner would be incredibly volatile. He had just lost his best friend. He would come up when he was ready, and not a moment before.
And then there was Steve. He was trying his best to hold on. He readjusted Nat's blankets. He left food trays outside Banner's shop and thanked God when they would be returned at least slightly nibbled on. He placed grocery orders for Barton, and he would sneak dissolvable nutrients into Thor's water, which was the only thing the Asgardian had yet to willingly consume.
But when everyone else was taken care of, and Steve would retreat to his room, he would run the shower and sob. He would sob for his friend. He would sob for his own failure. He would sob for Pepper. He sobbed for the look on her face when he told her, when she slapped him in shock. When the realization hit her and she collapsed, wailing at his feet, tears pouring from her betrayed eyes and her hands scratching so deep at her hair that she almost left bloody trails on her own scalp. She had been sedated by SHIELD medical and hooked up to an IV. Steve was grateful that she was at least getting fluids. She would not have been as accepting of the food he would have left her as Banner was.
So Steve sobbed. And he would run the shower until the water ran cold, and then he would jump in and let the shock of the icy impacts cover his body and give him an excuse for the tremors that wracked him. Then, he would crawl into bed and pretend to sleep.
One week later
After day 4, Bruce came upstairs. He didn't say anything, he just stood at the top of the stairs, swaying slightly. They all stared in shock, unsure of what to say. Somehow, the sight of the doctor snapped Barton out of his own wallowing, and the archer left the fridge and led the good doctor to his room, holding him as gently as you would a baby bird. Barton got him cleaned up and shaved, Bruce all the while standing limply. Nobody teased them. Nobody jested lightheartedly at the fact that Barton had to bathe a fellow avenger. Bruce was a shell of a man. Clint knew how that felt.
When Bruce was in clean pajamas, Barton sat him at the kitchen table and made him chicken soup. This was what Barton needed – he needed to take care of someone else first to be able to take care of himself.
Everyone was shocked when Thor sat next to the small man and quietly asked, also, if he may have a bowl of soup. Barton smiled, a real genuine smile, despite how small it was, and answered, "of course. I'll grab another can."
"And…And me, Clint." And Natasha got up from the couch, though still tugging her blanket around her shoulders. It was still progress.
Steve sat down silently and looked around. Everyone was here, functioning to varying levels, yes, but functioning all the same. Barton quickly heated the canned soup and dished out incredibly generous helpings to each person at the table before he did so for himself and sat down.
It was strange, to all be at the table. Steve enjoyed watching everyone eat, and he was surprised at how hungry he was. Everyone seemed to have the same realizations, because pretty soon all bowls were empty and Barton was putting on more. They went through about 9 cans of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup before all were satisfied. They had just sat down again to finish the last bowl when Bruce picked his head up from looking down at his half eaten bowl.
His eyes locked on the seat that everyone hadn't even thought about. They had all been too preoccupied with their own thoughts about the person who was missing to really notice that they were missing.
All eyes turned to the one empty chair at the table meant for 6.
Bruce's eyes welled up with tears, but he didn't lose it, this time like they thought he would.
Instead he spoke.
"Y-you guys remember that time," his voice was gruff from days of silence. "That time that Tony rigged that face recognition software Fury's office? How he synchronized it with that mounted robotic nerf gun to shoot Coulson every time he walked in?"
Everyone at the table cracked a smile, and they thought fondly upon the many antics of Tony Stark.
Barton was next. "Remember that goddamn fart machine he built into Maria Hill's command chair? H-He," The archer was starting to chuckle. "I'll never forget h-her promotion ceremony, when she sat down in the Lieutenant's seat and the whole room was fucking silent and the moment her ass touched the cushion i-it just let out this god awful sound, and I-I" the man was lost in laughter, and he wasn't alone. Thor's rumbling drowned out any continuation of the tale, even if Clint had been able to get the words past his giggles.
"No, but the worst part about it," Nat was also laughing as she recounted, "Was that Tony, the bastard, rigged it into the surround sound in the control room, and i-it echoed off of ev-everything!" Bruce had his head in his hands, his laughter was shaking his whole body. Barton was wiping tears from his eyes, not from grief, but because his face hurt from smiling so hard. Steve shook and he clutched his chest.
"No, no" Steve tried to swallow past his words, "B-But do you remember Maria's face, though? Her face?" His voice cracked up an octave with the effort of squeezing out words.
The whole team stopped trying to conceal any sense of decency they had left. They doubled over. Thor's elbow accidentally landed in his soup bowl, and that set them all laughing even harder. They all felt absolutely terrible, here they were pissing their pants laughing days after their friend's untimely death.
But holy hell, he had done some funny shit.
Their guilty laughs were in full swing when a familiar, but haggard voice, chimed in from the elevator dock.
"Wow, assholes. It hasn't even been a week yet and you're already over me? I guess I'll just leave you to it, then."
Silence. Dead Silence.
Or….Not…Dead…Silence.
Steve's eyes went wide. Barton almost shit himself. Thor looked scared. Natasha looked fierce. Banner almost collapsed.
"Well, are you going to offer me soup or am I just supposed to sit here and watch everyone else eat while I waste away?"
A scruffy-chinned, thin, exhausted, and sickly looking Tony Stark took filled their doorway, seated gently in a wheelchair, flanked on one side by Nick Fury, and on the other side by Doctor Brunet.
Nobody moved.
Until Steve couldn't take it any longer.
"YOU BASTARD!" Steve screamed, but it was more of a gasp. Steve couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. What- what was happening? He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but at the same time he didn't care. "IS THIS A JOKE TO YOU? WAS THIS JUST ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR PRANKS?" Steve immediately felt guilty, but at the same time, he felt so damn hurt.
Tony's eyebrows shot up to his scruffy hairline. "That wasn't exactly what I was expecting." Taking in his team's complete shock, Tony turned to Dr. Brunet, who was slightly uncomfortable at the situation. Brunet met his gaze.
"Oh, oui," she began, hurriedly. She was trying to get everything in before the team came back to their senses and started panicking. "Monsieur Stark was very badly wounded in ze accident." She paused. "Well, non, ok, oui, yes. He did die, Capitán." She shot a sorry look at Steve. "Zat was no joke."
Steve immediately cast his gaze down, feeling absolutely terrible.
"However, weeth my extensive work in repairs to ze human body and nanoscopic surgeries, an advancement far beyond zat of ze laparoscopic sense, we were able to place your friend in hypothermic hibernation, release worker nanobots into hiz chest, repair hiz cardiac system, and return him to hiz full health." She was obviously very pleased.
"Yah, I went through that and all I got was this puny little scar! Can you believe it? The injustice of the thing..." Tony sounded very disappointed as he pulled his collar down to reveal a very small slice just to the right of his sternum where the nanobots had been inserted.
Still, nobody moved.
"Ok, guys, seriously. Dammit. I died. I'm sorry." Tony was growing more and more upset and angst-ridden in his wheelchair by the second. "I'm really sorry my heart stopped and I died. I hate to be an inconvenience, I really do. Could somebody please talk to me because I'm just as freaked out as you are, and I only woke up about two hours ago and the first thing I demanded was that I go home and make sure you were all okay, which obviously you aren't, so PLEASE SOMEBODY TALK TO ME."
It was a plea, and it sounded just as broken as they had all felt only minutes before.
In an instant Nat had thrown off her blanket and was crouched on the floor in front of Tony's chair. In another instant, her hands were cradling his face with a gentleness she had never before displayed.
"Moҋ дpyr…" She whispered. And she embraced him. Tony was shocked, at first, but then he quickly brought his weak hands up to her back returned the short embrace. One by one, each avenger joined the hug. Bruce on shaky knees wobbled over to his best friend and almost fell into his lap, but managed to wrap his arms around his shoulders ever so gently and bury his face in Stark's neck. Thor came over with a bound and lifted Tony Clear out of the chair, but so softly and gently, Tony hardly knew he was upright. Now erect, the rest of the team joined Thor in the standing group huddle.
And so earth's mightiest heroes held onto their friend, and they held on with a ferocity.
They had lost him once. They would not do so again.
Ok that was some serious, heavy fic. Next ones will be shorter and lighter, I swear. Sorry for the main character death there, but he wasn't REALLY dead so…please don't hurt me I'm sorry I know it was cruel but hey, you signed up for this.
PLEASE REVIEW! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT! Too much, too little, you gotta let me know. You guys are the best critics.
By the way, Nat said "My friend…" In Russian, in case you were wondering.