Hey guys
Chapter Seven, finally!
Hope everyone enjoys, and just wanted to make sure once again, that everyone is aware that Steve is trapped in a collapsed tunnel, experiencing absolute darkness (yes, that is a scientific term for the total lack of light found deep underground), and is hallucinating like CRAZY!
Lots of love,
Fallen
As Steve woke with a jolt, red hot agony ripped through his torso and he opened eyes to see what was causing it. He couldn't move his head no matter how many times he tried, and even with his eyes open he saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He tried to move his arms or get his legs to respond but it felt as if they were frozen. Like thinking about it brought on his realization, he noticed how cold he'd become. It was the kind of cold he remembered, the kind of cold that made you question if you'd ever feel warmth again. It wrapped itself around his body like a lover, caressing and destroying him in the same breath.
He tried to remember how he'd gotten here, but all he could remember was confusion, a crash and then nothing. Just nothing. He wondered if anyone was looking for him, if it was Tony or Howard, Natasha or Peggy, Clint or Bucky looking for him. Was it 1943 or 2012? He wasn't sure, not anymore, not after everything. He'd seen them, heard what Peggy, Bucky, and Howard had said. Was this really all his imagination? Everything he'd experienced, surely it all couldn't be a lie.
He'd know if it was a dream, right?
He sighed and opened his eyes, for once not minding the absence of color and light. All he wanted was for someone to rescue him. Did it really matter what was true and what was a lie? If it really was just a dream, was that truly so bad? Didn't he have a right to be happy, even if it was just an illusion?
It was better than being here, frozen, helpless, and trapped in the darkness, fully aware but unable to call for help.
"Is that what you tell yourself Steve, when you let your imagination run wild? That it's better than where you are now?" The voice, one he knew better than his own, spoke, letting out a bitter laugh, "because you know what I think, Steve, I think you deserve every minute of this. EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN MINUTE OF THIS TORTURE! DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU STEVE? BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME AND LISTEN GOOD!" He heard Bucky sigh, as if he was trying to collect himself, but Steve couldn't be sure. It was amazing how much seeing crippled you. Without it, he couldn't even read his best friend.
Maybe Natasha could help him when they rescued him. Or maybe not…
"You failed us, Steve; you failed every single one of us." Bucky almost sounded sad now, as if he regretted Steve's choices. "I wanted to believe in you, I mean, you were Captain America. The man with a Plan, and hell, at first they all worked out, didn't they? But that wasn't meant to last, was it? It started when we walk into that trap, I'll never forget the way that blood seeped into the snow that night, or the screams as the bombs blew people into smithereens. I thought you would learn your lesson, keep the rest of us safe, but you couldn't do that, could you Steve?"
Steve tried to reply, but his tongue was frozen against his lips. That didn't stop the tears from falling. Why were they doing this? Surely they knew that he never forgot, never, not even for a minute. Every single face, every name, stuck in his head, haunting him, but he still tried to move on because he had to. He was Captain America.
He wasn't allowed to give up.
"Captain America, don't make me laugh, Steve." Despite his words, laugh he did; it sounded hollow and harsh to Steve's ears, nothing like Bucky's laugh. His laugh was rich, with the faintest undertone of sarcasm. It was beautiful. "You're nothing special, just a stupid boy stuck in a fantasy."
"Did you think about me when you crashed into the water?" His voice was inches from Steve's ear, but his breath was icy cold. "Did you remember how I screamed when you let me fall? Tell me, did you really think you were going to save the world? Or were you just taking the coward's way out, just like you're doing now? Hm?"
The thing is, the last thing Steve thought about before he crashed wasn't Bucky or Peggy, it was pretty silly actually. He had wondered to himself whether or not he'd see his mother again, or if heaven was all make believe and there'd be nothing. After all, it's hard to believe in God when you've seen everything he'd seen.
Now he wished it had been heaven… but maybe this was hell, this never ending darkness; maybe they'd let him taste heaven. And now it was time for hell. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it; Bucky was right, he'd failed everyone and he'd let himself imagine that for a second he'd been saved. That the Avengers were real, that they might grow to love him and that he might find his place again.
God he was stupid.
"Any trace of him?" Natasha asked him. To anyone else she might sound heartless, as if she was asking out of necessity not out of caring, but Coulson knew her. He could see the fear in her eyes, and the worry marrying her beautiful face. He wished he had something better to tell her, something better to tell them.
"No, I'm sorry, we still haven't been able to locate his heat signature. We think he might be too deep for our scanner to reach. That, or he's lost enough blood that his heat signature is too weak to pick up; we can't be sure."
Silence greeted his words, and he took a second to look at the people surrounding him. The second the words left his mouth, Natasha had shut down, pulling on the perfect mask, taking all her pain and sealing it away inside of her. He wished he knew what to say, or do, to fix her, but there was only one way to do that. And he wasn't sure they were going to be bringing the Cap-no, Steve, back this time.
Clint and Bruce both looked away, their jaws tight and bodies tense. Bruce's eyes flashed green, but instead of anger, Coulson only saw sorrow; maybe the Hulk truly could feel more than anger. Steve had always thought so. Clint's eyes flashed to his and then to the nearest exit, as always he was fighting the urge to flee. He'd go somewhere high, somewhere where he could observe the world and try to understand things that were beyond understanding.
Thor simply looked confused, as if he didn't understand what Phil said; he might not, Phil couldn't be sure. But under the confusion, he thought he picked up the fear and worry that lurked in the background, as if the confusion was only another mask to hide his true feelings. He'd have to look into it later.
Tony was the most surprising. Phil had been expecting a mental break down or an outburst of frustration, a verbal berating for not doing enough, but he only got silence. Maybe Tony felt more for Steve than he had let on; there were too many maybe's in this scenario.
If there was one thing Phil hated, it as maybe's, they were open doors for mistakes. Mistakes are what get people killed.
Speaking of maybe's, his eyes jerked to the lithe figure in the corner, huddling in the shadows as if attempting to avoid notice. As if he felt Phil looking at him, Loki, the fallen prince of ASgard, raised his eyes to meet Phil's. Honestly, in the time he'd spent with him, Phil only felt pity for the broken man; he knew people rarely became villains because they wanted to. He doubted Loki was an exception for that; every fiber of the man's being screamed of torture, repression, and self-hatred.
He'd tried to hate him, for what he'd done to him, to Clint, and to so many innocent New Yorkers, but sometimes your only option was to forgive the one who hurt you the most. If you don't, who will?
"I might be able to help," Loki's wisp of a voice interrupted his analysis.
"Explain," his voice echoed through the room, though he never raised it, and when Loki hesitated he continued, "now."
Every member of the Avengers stared at the God, and he visibly shrunk further in to the shadows, but only for a second. Then he drew himself up, and stepped into the light, his pale green eyes flickering back and forth between them. "I know of a spell, one that could trace and retrieve, with but a token of the missings affection."
"Why didn't you tell us early, you sick bastard?" Clint asked, practically foaming at the mouth, "Did you think it was entertaining to watch us all meander around while Steve, our Steve, is trapped alone in that hell-hole?"
"Clint, enough," Phil told him, eyeing him until the man turned his head away defiantly. "Loki, please continue. We are open to any suggestions, but if you're lying, don't think you'll be forgiven. There's no such thing as a third chance, at least, not that I'm aware of."
Loki nodded, his gaze now glued to the floor, "It wasn't like that, archer, I simply knew that you would never accept my help, not unless all else had failed. Even now you doubt me, and wish to believe I want nothing more than to see more people suffer…" He trailed off, closing his eyes and ducking his head further into his chest, if that were possible.
"Please, brother, what is this spell? Can you do it without your powers?" Thor's voice sounded sickeningly hopeful. Phil wished he didn't know what it was like to wish so desperately for someone to change, to pray that they might turn from a path that only lead to despair.
"Yes, brother, I can perform it without my magicks, but I will need many supplies, and at least a day to fully prepare. Even then the chance of failure is high, and the risk of my death even higher." Loki shrugged, as if his life meant nothing, and maybe to him it didn't. "But it matters not, I will give you a list of what I need, and if I have your permission, I need to spend a day meditating alone. In this time, you should be able to gather the ingredient required."
Before anyone else could speak, Tony's voice broke the silence following Loki's words. "Give me the list, we'll get it done," he paused, surveying the room, "Steve, well, Steve, is worth the risk. I'd rather take a shot and get him back than turn my back and find his body in that god forsaken tunnel. He deserves more than that."
Any hesitation in the eyes of the others died, replaced by determination. They'd get him back, no matter what the cost.
He just wanted to die; he couldn't take any more of this torture, constantly being bombarded with images, nightmares, and whispers of them. He wasn't sure what was real anymore, and he wasn't sure he could handle that.
Which was worse he couldn't decide; being trapped in the ice all this time, and everything he'd witnessed this last year, being part of some sick fantasy, or having it all be real and having to accept, once again, that they were all dead, and worse: every single one of them hated him. He couldn't handle it. Maybe it would just be easier to give-up; to close his eyes and never, ever, wake up.
Maybe he'd just give it a try, all he had to do was close his eyes. Simple, right?
He was growing tired of being wrong, every fucking time. He probably deserved this, being stuck in another one of his visions, it's what he gets for giving up. It's like the General's used to tell him, "Son, your Captain America, you ain't got no time for tears or doubts. You got a job to do, now get it done."
"It's okay Steve, don't cry, we're just here to protect you. We love you, don't we boys?" Peggy's voice cooed, and Steve couldn't resist; he opened his eyes. But she was wrong, all wrong, red curls in the place of chestnut brown, a cat-suit instead of crisp military clothes, but most of all, Natasha's mask in place of her face.
"What's wrong soldier, don't like what you see?" Natasha-Peggy asked, her voices just like Peggy's, and the playful smirk, didn't quite match with her features. "I think he's in shock, what do you think boys?" Peggy-Natasha asked, turning to look at the faces of Tony and Clint.
"Well, Peggy, looks like my boy here is just confused, that's all, but that's what we're here for, right Howard?" This was all wrong, they were all wrong, Bucky's voice reached his ears but when he looked up all he saw was Clint. He couldn't tell which disappointed him more, not being able to see Bucky's face or not being able to hear Clint's voice.
"I'm sure he's just happy to see us; I mean, wouldn't you be if you were in his place?" Howard asked, his cocky, sure-fire tone bleeding out of Tony's lips. Steve could almost picture it, the crimson red words; oozing out of their lips.
"Come on Steve, get up, we have something to show you," Peggy said, her smile felt wrong on Natasha's face, fake. When he hesitated something dark flashed behind her eyes and she reached down to pull him up, "Now don't be shy, Steve, this is important."
Suddenly they all surrounded him, and he was tiny again, unable to fight against them as they dragged him before a floor length mirror. He refused to look; he didn't want to know what was waiting for him its hard reflective surface, he'd had enough of this endless torture. He just wanted it to end.
"Don't think it's going to be that easy, Steve." Their voices were twisted again, anger and resentment leaking into their voices. "We're only giving you a taste of the pain you deserve. Didn't anyone ever tell you, the truth hurts, Steve." Their voices rang in his ears as they viciously forced his head upwards until he was staring in the mirror.
He'd always hated being so small, but never more than now. They towered over him, their arms locked tightly around his wrists and shoulders, their faces twisted and cold. He looked past it and locked eyes with his reflection. He wondered if he always looked this sad.
He could barely contain the sharp sound of confusion, as he watched his face slowly started to change, his figure growing taller, leaner, his blonde hair turning jet black and his baby blues turning into jade. The changes kept happening, until Steve was looking at Loki, his cruel green eyes locking onto Steve's.
"What's wrong Steve? Image problems?" Peggy asked as her face melted until there was nothing but a featureless face and plain lips left behind. Her hair was a mess, red and chestnut fighting for dominance, and her clothes contorted and twisted, leaving some blinding mix of modern and vintage.
He could barely hold back the bile building in his throat. "Yes, Steve, do tell," Loki's voice echoed, once again drawing his attention to the God. "Not a fan of me, Rogers? You should, after all, you created in your own image, I mean, come now, you didn't actually think anyone could be so similar to you? But I guess when you're desperate all you want is a kindred spirit to share your pain, your bone breaking agony, to understand when no one else could." Loki's smirk nearly split his face in two.
"Don't you see, Steve, everything you've known, it's a lie, something you created to escape, to hide from the truth of your fate. It's okay to cry, but it won't change a thing; you're weak, useless and you DESERVE it all!" Loki's spit sprayed against the mirror, or maybe it was his spit, he couldn't tell anymore.
"I always wondered how it must feel to be you, but then I remembered, I do, I know exactly what it's like, because I am you. I know what it's like to feel small, belittled at every turn, to be best friends and brothers with someone who everyone loved, to hide in the shadow of their greatness. I know what it's like to taste power, to fall as a direct result of one's own choices, and I know what it's like to wish with every fiber of your being you could take it all back. Didn't you ever think it was strange how much we shared?" Loki sneered, "Then again, probably not. I guess they weren't lying when they said all bronze and no brain, were they?"
"Please, stop, please," he whimpered, trying to turn his head away from Loki or to cover his ears. He didn't want to hear anymore. He didn't want to doubt everything.
"Where do you think you're going Steve?" Howards voice called, his face already blank, his and Tony's clothes, facial hair, and the like all battling for dominance. It was sickening to watch. The constant shifts, none of them quite matching up, like some sort of sick game of humptey-dumptey.
"Can't accept the truth, Steve, is that it?" they asked, each one bearing a sneer across their lips, but at least Loki had a face; the others were just empty skin with mouths. "Well, too bad, poor little Steve, we're going to make you."
He wasn't sure how long the nightmare replayed over and over again until he couldn't tell it from reality, but finally his eyes opened. Once again all he saw was darkness. All he felt was cold. Maybe it was time to accept the truth. Maybe.
The day felt like it dragged on forever, but finally the Avengers had gathered all the supplies Loki needed. Some things had been simple: a strand of Steve's hair, salt, and a basin of water, candles, spices and herbs. Other had been more difficult: the heart of newly birthed cow, the eye of a blind crow, and a token of Steve's affect. That one had taken them hours because none of them could decide what it should be. Until they found his old compass, the one with the picture of Peggy in it, and settled that besides Loki along with the rest of the supplies.
Loki ceased his meditation, opening his eyes to look at them, and a sense of calm settled about them. He looked ready, his body giving off the confidence he'd had before for the first time since his arrival, but without the edge of craziness that chased him before.
"First, I need you to create a circle with the salt; make sure you are all in it before the circle closes. I'll need energy from all of you, for without my magick I no longer have enough alone."
They worked silently, quickly creating a circle of salt around them before sitting in a circle around Loki. Each of them subconsciously mimicking his position and attempting to find their own center.
"Perfect, you've completed step two without my help, but before I start I need you to know that this will cause me intense pain, but I ask that no matter what happened, Do Not Open Your Eyes. Please, you cannot forget, least this all be in vain."
They all nodded, closing their eyes. "Now, I need each of you to concentrate on Steve; picture him as he is to you. When you have him in your mind, I need you to hold onto the image, even more so than keeping your eyes closed, you must not lose his image. If you do, we may very well lose him."
They all did as they were told, Natasha envisioning his sad smile, and the care in his eyes when he tended a wound she'd gotten in a battle following Loki's invasion. Clint pictured his boyish excitement when he got one of the movie references he threw out, and the emptiness in his eyes when he failed to save someone.
Bruce Banner, pictured Steve's unbridled compassion when he told him that he thought there was more to the Hulk than Bruce believed, and that he shouldn't give up because everything happened for a reason. As he pictured this, he wondered if Steve truly believed that, or if he had to in order to avoid completely breaking.
Tony pictured the first and only time he'd ever seen Steve really smile, his lips wide, just a hint of teeth showing and his eyes sparkling with life they rarely revealed. He couldn't remember what he'd said, but he wished he could, just to see that smile as more than a memory again. Thor, on the other hand, pictured Steve in battle, his fierce protectiveness and strength shining through, saving both his teammates and civilians even as his body took hit after hit. He never faltered though, because he knew he was needed and he never let them down.
Coulson just pictured his hero, the man who signed his bloody cards and a new pair he'd bought with money he could have used for something else. The man who'd sacrificed everything for his country and gotten so little back.
Loki just imagined how broken Steve was under everything else; he was broken, perhaps not beyond repair, but Loki could never be sure. When Loki believed everyone in the room was ready he began to prepare the spell, arranging each ingredient as it was needed, mixing some, using a mortal and pistol to turn others to dust, until everything was ready. Then he poured it in to the water and began to chant.
The others couldn't understand the language but it was beautiful, old and powerful, like some warrior God reawakened. Loki's voice continued to rise, though pain began to leak through his words and the smell of burning flesh serenaded their noses. Loki kept going and they kept their eyes closed, Steve's image clear in their heads, even as Loki stopped chanting and started to scream.
The smell of burning flesh intensified and something started to boil in front of them. The sound of water overflowing was a forerunner to the feel of liquid beating against them; it was too thick to be water. Natasha knew it was blood, but she pushed it to the back of her mind.
Loki continued to scream, though he began to chant again between each startling outburst of agony. Then as if it had never happened, it all disappeared and silence reigned between them.
They all waited, holding their breaths as the time ticked by; they'd begun to give up hope, when there was a loud pop, then the thump of a body hitting the ground. "Open your eyes, he will need your help," Loki's voice was faint but something like joy leaked through his tone. It had worked.
They opened their eyes and the happiness they'd felt for that moment faded the instant they laid eyes on their Captain, their Steve. He was a mess, barely even recognizable if not for the torn, bloody star on the middle of his chest. His shield lay some ways away, but they paid no attention to it, no one's eyes left the sight in front of them.
There was a gaping hole in his abdomen directly underneath the star, his organs laid open for their eyes, and it appeared half of his rib cage had collapsed. Who knows how many were broken or even worse, shattered inside of his body.
Both his legs were broken, but it appeared the knee on his left leg was completely crushed, and it didn't look like his hips had fared any better. His uniform was torn in multiple places and every inch of skin revealed to them that wasn't covered in dried or running blood was awash with purple and black bruises.
His hands appeared as if he'd never make another fist or hold a shield again, each bone shattered and twisted, charred flesh replaced his usually perfect skin making his hands resemble a charred twisted mess instead of the strong, commanding shapes they used to make. His elbow on his right arm appeared broken, and his arm was dislocated; unfortunately his right had fared no better, it was broken and his wrist appeared to be fractured and swollen, tiny cuts going all the way up his arm.
His face was covered in bruises and squished, no hint of his baby blues beneath the swollen and possibly broken cheekbones. They tried to hold in the terror they felt at seeing him in this condition, and finally someone broke the silence.
"Call medical, NOW! We need to get him there immediately," Coulson's voice boomed across the room, and suddenly everyone leapt to action, Thor gently picked the Captain up. While the others rushed around to make contact with various people to alert them of the Captain's condition.
Coulson let them work and moved to Loki's side; the trickster had yet to pick himself off the ground, nor had he unraveled himself from the ball his body had formed. "Don't think we'd forgotten you."
The God turned his face to look at Coulson, confusion clear on his features despite the pain that clearly racked his body. "You may not have won forgiveness, but this is a huge step in the right direction. We heard your screams, and smelt your flesh burning; you sacrificed much for someone who was your enemy only a few months ago. That is not something we take lightly here; remember, you aren't the only one in this room whose been given a second chance with their lives." With that Coulson gestured at Tony, who'd materialized at his side, "I need a hand getting him up."
"Still supposed to avoid heavy lifting?" Tony asked, trying to joke but it fell short. Together they lifted Loki, neither one of them commenting on how light he was. They silently agreed not to mention the quiet scream that tore from his lips when they touched him.
But at least they finally had their Captain back, right?