The next morning, Steve was surprisingly the first to get up. And to think, he was worrying for nothing. He jumped off the branch and landed with a soft thud, looking up as a few leafs from his bedding fluttered down around him. He had taken the liberty of gathering some branches and twigs. Of course, the actual process he would save for Thor.
He glanced over at Tony who sat at the base of the tree, busy wiring his cellphone into the reactor. The stern focused look he had his face clashed with his red Iron Man boxers. It further supported Steve's past assertion that Tony Stark was in fact, a man-child.
His hair, usually slick with gel and product was now scruffy, and sticking out from every direction. He sported the mad scientist look well. His infamous goatee-mustache combo was masked by his unkempt stubble that diluted the overall shape. The thought made Steve scratch at his own beard that was beginning to grow.
"Good morning," he said, not expecting an answer.
A few moments later, he heard Tony mumble out, "Hey cap." He smiled, amused at the fact that it had required him to be stranded in an alternate universe for Tony to acknowledge his usual morning greeting.
Steve began exploring their campsite in search for any critters he could catch. They were deep inside the island by now, so unless the others were willing to relocate back to the beach side, fish was definitely off the menu. After Tony's girl scout remark, Steve figured it'd be best to kept his scout survival tactics on the down low, refusing to set himself up again. He tracked down some small droppings, keeping an eye out for broken twigs and crushed leaves.
Eventually, beams of sunlight penetrated the woodland floor, meandering through small gaps of the otherwise enclosed forest canopy. For the most part, the shrubbery provided much needed shade. As the day began to emerge and illuminate the greens, the bustling sounds of chirping and cawing also erupted, followed by the awakening of the remaining Avengers.
"Baaaannner…" Clint drawled as made his way from his separate bedroom shared with Natasha and onto the main branch of the gigantic tree.
Bruce was nearly unrecognizable in that large shirt that draped over him like a poncho. The unbuckled belt protruded from behind the shirt. He was no longer the same neat, well ordered scientist that Clint once knew. He turned his head but didn't say anything, only giving that go on look.
"I don't feel good," Clint said petulantly, as if his wellbeing was directly affected by Bruce's actions. "At all," he emphasized.
The back of Bruce's hand met with Clint's forehead. He leaned over to check the scabs forming from the slashes on his face, upset at the sight of some yellowish discharge that drained from some of the deeper cuts. "Um, you're running a low grade fever from the infection," he pointed out. "Try and keep the cuts dry until they heal." For some odd reason, Clint had an unsatisfied look. Bruce scratched his head, "You'll uh…get better soon…don't worry." He wasn't sure if he was assuring enough. He bit the inside of lip and gave the assassin a small smile.
"You're terrible at this," Clint told him before scaling the tree down.
Bruce shoved his hands inside his pockets and shrugged, his face scrunching with confusion.
"What got you so worked up this morning?" Natasha hopped down out of nowhere, causing the doctor jump slightly.
"Uhm…Clint, he–" he stammered, now peering upwards to see where she had come from.
"I know," she cut in and immediately leapt off the branch to meet up with Clint.
Bruce brought his eyes back and did a complete three-sixty turn before realizing that Natasha was now on the ground below him. "Okay," he said quietly to the small leaf that fell by his feet.
Somewhere within that time frame, Thor had already woken up and took his rightful place beside the pile of branches left out for him. He placed a stick in between his hands and rubbed persistently, unaware of his tongue sticking out to the side as he did so.
Natasha smirked at his Labrador-like manner.
Thor tugged at her pant leg. "Lady Natasha," he said, hinting at the steady stream of smoke that came from the pile.
"Great work Thor," she said unimpressed. The tone didn't matter to Thor –not that it ever did, because the words were spoken and he took the compliment freely.
Suddenly, the pile of wood burst into flames and Thor fell back. "BEHOLD!" he boomed. "With these hands, I have created…FIRE!" he bellowed at that last word. With his arms outstretched, he mimicked Tony's cue for applause.
"Right." She walked over to Clint and Tony, unsure if she should be worried of hearing Thor's maniacal laughter behind her. "You… are contagious," she said, noticing that she wasn't the only one to witness Asgardian prince's self-absorbed gesture.
"I'm influential," Tony corrected without looking up from his work.
Some leaves ruffled and Bruce let out a restrained yelp as he lost his footing in an attempt to scale down the side of the tree trunk. As he fell into a slopping pile, Bruce managed to get all heads turning –with the exception of Thor who was busy admiring his creation.
Clint stuffed his fist inside his mouth and pinched his eyes close to keep from laughing. It wasn't so much to save Bruce a moment of embarrassment as it was to save himself from a green beat down. He remembered that heap of dog pulp and shuddered.
"You okay?" Natasha offered a hand.
"Uh, yah. I-I'm fine," he scrambled to his feet.
"It's a good thing your neck broke the fall. Those jeans cost more than your house."
"Tony, I've been all over India." He patted away the dirt that clung onto his clothes.
"My point exact."
Bruce wanted to take his remark as sarcasm, but he had a terrible feeling that Tony wasn't exaggerating in the slightest bit.
"My friends, the captain has returned! WITH FOOD!" Thor shouted into Clint and Natasha's faces as he wrapped his bulky arms around them and herded them towards the fire. "Come," he cheerfully directed his arms towards Bruce and Tony, "It is time that we break our fast."
Bruce sheepishly smiled and gave him a nod.
Tony was beginning to hook his rector to the newly finished device. "In a minute goldilocks," Tony mumbled into his lap, which was unusually bare. Tony Stark never wears shorts. Tony Stark only wears suits and tuxedos or nothing at all. Tony Stark took one for the team.
Satisfied, Thor nudged Bruce's shoulder before half jogging over to Steve.
"You really should eat something Tony, I mean your body's fighting off the infection in your lungs and it needs all the fuel it can get, and you've had a loss of appetite, maybe a new symptom–" Bruce trailed off, following with medical jargon that Tony knew, but was uninterested in.
It was a struggle to keep up with Bruce's rant. Now he knew how everyone else felt. Everything was rotated about twenty degrees upside down, and sounds were coming in distorted. He took in a deep breath and exhaled, that lingering presence of phlegm making him wheeze. He tried to concentrate on the glowing screen in his hands.
It was obvious that Tony wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying. Bruce had caught it early on, that the billionaire had a tendency to zone out when someone other than himself was speaking. This had become more and more evident in their conferences with director Fury. This time, new elements came into play. Tony's eyes were subtly glassy, and his fingers failed to comply to basic commands as he clumsily fumbled with the phone. Bruce reached over to feel his forehead.
Tony slapped his hand away as soon as he felt it. Granted, his reaction time was slow enough for Bruce to be relieved that his fever was only a mild one. "I am not your lab rat Banner," he murmured grumpily.
"You need to eat," Bruce demanded.
"I know Bruce. I'm not three," he said, oblivious of his childish brand of underpants. In his mind, he looked fantastic.
"…Right." Bruce surrendered. As he walked away, he turned for one final objection, but realizing that he'd never win, he just turned again and kept on his way.
By the fireplace, Steve dropped a pile of various critters: a couple of squirrels, half a dozen of birds, some ferret-like cats, and one particularly fluffy thing that was just too adorable to eat. They all sat down, watching Natasha's skinning skills. The fur-ball, who was apparently playing dead, awoke from its state and ran into Bruce's lap.
"Aww, hey little guy," he cooed, cuddling the thing in his arms.
Clint immediately ran over to Bruce and petted the shit out of poor thing. "It's soo wittle and soft!" he babbled, nuzzling up nose to nose. "We can't eat him, he's too cyoot!" Clint snatched it from Bruce and held it so that it laid on its back.
"Well, what is it?" Bruce asked, tickling its furry belly. He couldn't help but smile as its paws curled up to hold onto his hand, as if to tell him that it was indeed, ticklish.
"I dunno, but he's mine," Clint declared. "His name is Barry and I love him."
"She is a chinchilla," Natasha informed him. She calmly slit the throat of another bird, showing no grief for the desperate screech that it let out before gurgling on its own blood. "I'm eating her."
Bruce and Clint simultaneously gasped, causing Thor to chuckle loudly.
As soon as Natasha finished skinning and degutting the animals, they were skewered to be cooked over the fire. There was plenty of food to go around and they all were immensely thankful to have Steve's handy woodland services available. While waiting for the meat to cook, they were blasting out ideas of how they had gotten there. Everyone laughed at each other's predictions of what the villain would look like and listed all the stereotypes of being a 'bad guy'.
1. The villain usually has had a horrific childhood; most often, they are an orphan, and almost always abused.
2. This demeaning past causes an overwhelming sense of anger and desire for revenge and sometimes redemption.
3. They turn to a dark force, in which they acquire a super power and thus become a super villain. Otherwise, they are just an ordinary villain.
"What about the portals?" Clint asked, changing the mood of the conversation as he stuffed his face with rabbit meat.
"We don't know who was behind the scheme, or what they wanted to do with it," Steve responded, avoiding a hasty conclusion jumping.
"Well, they probably used it to blast us here."
"It's unlikely that they used one since that room only had prototypes," Bruce reasoned.
"Did anyone even bother asking Stark?" Natasha joined in. She could already hear Tony dragging his feet toward them.
Thor grabbed Bruce by the shoulders and shoved him towards Tony, who really was coming their way. Damn her Vulcan hearing.
Bruce awkwardly fell into Tony. "Um," Bruce scratched his head nervously. A disappointed Tony held the unattached device in his hand and looked up.
"Tony, um, h-have some food," he suggested.
"Yah… that's why I came over here," Tony replied, noting Bruce's extra apprehensive tone.
His eyes met Clint, who shooed him with his hand, urging him to cut to the chase. "Uh. Tony, that place with those portals…" Bruce hesitated. Immediately, Tony turned on his heel to walk away. "…d-did you build them?"
Tony kept his back turned but froze. He swallowed hard and bit the inside of his lip. If it were at all possible for him to just fly off with his suit, he would have. He let out a long sigh and turned around, eyes watering, looking down.
They knew what that meant. "Hey…it's not your fault," Steve said, standing up. The thought of Tony being tortured ran through his mind.
"Any of us would have caved," Clint agreed.
Their reassurance went unheard, because Tony felt the tremendous guilt tugging at his heart. His portal had brought them all there. It was his fault. He felt his pulse thump loudly behind the walls of his neck. A shrill ring drowned out the. He let a single tear trail down his cheek.
Natasha watched as Tony's eyes lost its focus as his pupils oscillated back and forth. She wasn't alone in this observation, as Bruce had noticed it too and knew exactly what was happening. Her instincts fired its red alerts, and as soon as she ran over to him, he collapsed onto the floor, convulsing violently. The satellite dropped onto the floor and broke in two. She sat behind him, and cradled his head in her hands when he began thrashing about. "Bruce!" she cried out, her eyes glued on Tony.
"He's having a seizure," Bruce was down next to Tony in an instant. He was worried how his spasms were interrupting his breathing, but remained calm to avoid alarming the others. He carefully picked up the satellite, knowing its significance and set it aside on top a nearby log.
Thor gazed in horror –as did the others (but in lesser magnitude of horror-ness) as the genius inventor's body tensed and his fisted arms jerked around. His jaw tightened and he gritted his teeth as his muscles contracted uncontrollably. Often he had noted that Midgard had housed very fragile inhabitants. Their physical strength and immunity to diseases were of no match, and yet he was frightened by this particular instance.
Tony's breathing came in ragged breathes that stopped completely when the more violent shakes racked his body.
As the episode simmered down, Tony's tremors were brief and came in shorter intervals. His eyes fluttered throughout the period, as if his unconscious mind was trying to make sense of it all.
"There's a likely chance he'll vomit," Bruce warned Natasha, whose hands still cupped protectively under head. The decline in Tony's shaking allowed Bruce to roll Tony over on his side, as a precaution.
Steve cringed at the sound his fallen comrade gasping as each convulsion halted his breathing. He backed away from the scene –not entirely, but enough to not be physically involved. It was extremely stressful to watch and know that nothing could have been done, especially for a man of action.
"What do we do?" Steve asked; he hated not knowing what was going on.
"We c-can't do anything," Bruce answered. "Just wait for it to pass."
And so they waited. The moment that seemed to have lasted an eternity all came to an end. Tony's eyes rolled back, and his limbs fell lifelessly to his side. If he was breathing, they really couldn't tell.
"Tony…" Clint said in the back, he feared the worse.
Bruce laid Tony on his back. His trembling hands came up to rest shortly on Tony's shoulders before shaking him awake.
They watched anxiously for their friend to respond. Thor's hands rolled into fists, ignoring lingering sting inflicted by those quills. He pushed Clint and Steve aside and came closer. "Son of Stark!" he shouted, his call going unanswered. He cursed himself for ever having come to Midgard, because he had come to care too much for his new friends, and now his heart was aching.
"TONY!" Natasha screamed. Suddenly his eyes ripped open and he took in a shuddering breath. His hand shot up and grabbed hers, which he clung tightly to his chest.
Thor cheered in delight, grabbing Clint and Steve by the shoulders for two large side hugs.
Tony looked up and saw Natasha looking back down at him. He figured there were spiders crawling out of the orifices his face because he could see the fear in her eyes. But it wasn't so. Natasha looked down as Tony held her hand, his eyes in panic. He was terrified. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she comforted, rubbing circles in his chest.
"Tony, you just had a seizure," Bruce said loudly, "Can you hear me?" He checked his eyes and pulse.
Tony saw Bruce above him, saying something about…something. It probably wasn't important. Everything was slow, and all the sounds mashed together. He didn't remember drinking; it scared him. He held tightly onto Natasha's hand, panting.
When Tony's breathing started to even out Bruce stood up, "He'll be okay," he said, "But… never bring this up again; it'll most likely trigger another episode."
The others nodded.
Natasha used her free hand to gently stroke his hair, "It's okay," she reassured him.
Extraordinarily enough, he believed her. Soon Tony's grip began to relax as he calmed down. She had remembered reading his file about the incident in Afghanistan. Tony hated waking up in confusion, so she couldn't blame him for freaking out after experiencing a seizure. What had bothered her though was that she –of all people, was able to reassure him and keep him at ease. As much as she despised his rich-man, womanizer persona, she valued his trust.
SM: I really tried to update sooner. Attempt failed. This whole satellite thing will start to come together soon. Sorry if it bothers you.
