A/N: OOOOOH boy…! You're gonna be SO MAD at me soon… (winces) BUT, one more author's note while we're still friends.
THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your ABSOLUTELY AMAZING reviews! It means the world to me that you've enjoyed the ride so much. (HUGS)
Okay… You guys ready? Are you sure? Let's get this one going! Brace yourselves for a RIDE…
The End of the Line?
Outside the base the battle was still raging. But it was very obvious which side was winning. Triumph and immense relief flashed in several eyes. The world as they knew it wasn't going to end that day.
Inside the mood was very different.
The world spun in front of Bucky's wide eyes as he stared at Steve's unmoving body. He had his mind back. But the nightmare was getting worse. Steps away Tony was every bit as shell-shocked. Neither could quite comprehend how things came to… this.
Bucky, still the soldier he once was, jumped into action first. He pressed far from steady fingers to Steve's neck. Then an equally trembling hand checked the Captain's chest. "He's… He's still alive. It's bad, but… He's alive."
Tony said nothing. The billionaire's hasty breaths came in painful sounding, wheezing pants. The look in the man's eyes suggested that his mind was somewhere far away.
"STARK!" Bucky's sharp, loud voice made the other man jump. It also caught his attention. "I… I get that you want to kill me. You have every right to try and end me right here. But… Steve needs help." When the billionaire still didn't make a move despair began to claw at the soldier's chest. "Stark, please…! He was… He was your friend, once. Don't let him…!" Please, don't let him die like this! Was this how Steve felt when watching him fall from the train? The realization slashed Bucky like a blade. As did the rapidly dawning understanding that this was all his fault.
After everything Steve had done and sacrificed for him… After following him to this hell… This was what he brought on his best friend in return?
Funnily enough, his guilt was reflected in Tony's dark eyes. Almost buried into a sea of anger and mistrust. The Iron Man finally jumped to action. "Let's get moving", the man ordered roughly. "Judging by his breathing, it doesn't…" The billionaire swallowed thickly. "It doesn't sound like we've got a lot of time."
Bucky nodded. In a silent yet loaded understanding they shifted Steve to the man's shield, careful not to jostle him much. Then began the silent, uncomfortable trek out of the sickening place.
Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life. A ridiculous amount of ridiculously bad ones. Yet this… This was definitely a cherry on the top.
Was this how Steve had felt since the day he shot Clint? Because… All of a sudden Tony found it very hard to hold on to the grudge. This pain of bottomless, everlasting guilt was definitely a punishment enough.
Natasha made her way to the jet Tony had hidden a subtle distance away almost as their strange trio did. She did one doubletake at the sight of Bucky and another, slightly more visible on at the state of Steve. Tony could only stare at her and the hysterically crying little girl in her arms dumbly.
"What are you doing here? And… Who's the kid?" he sputtered just as she demanded "What the hell happened?"
"Never mind", Natasha hissed and clearly wasn't about to listen to another word. The tense silence lingered for those few moments it took them to get Steve settled to the aircraft's miniature medical wing. Her eyes were razor-sharp when boring to his. "Tony, we've got this under control and backup's on the way. You need to go and help Clint. I'd come too, but…" She nodded towards the child she was holding.
The whole world spun a little at those words. Tony's brain fought to make sense of the emotional and informational overload. "What?" he breathed out. "Are you saying that Clint's still alive?"
"Yes!" Natasha snapped harshly. It occurred to Tony that he'd never seen her quite so scared before. "But he needs help."
Tony nodded. Once, twice. It was time to finally do something right. "Where is he?"
"I'll show you." The sudden unfamiliar voice made Tony jump. It wouldn't have taken even a tenth of his at the moment questionable intellect to figure out that the boy stood right behind him hated him. Had they met before…? "Keep up." The man had no chance to see the kid moving before a harsh had was placed on his neck. "To help you avoid a whiplash."
Tony wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea to trust that protection. But he had no other choice and they had no time to waste. So off they went, with far more speed than Tony had expected. When they finally stopped moving the billionaire threw up.
"Sorry." The boy didn't sound sorry. "I forgot to warn you."
Tony spat and growled. "Forgot… my ass…", he muttered. Then, after three deep breaths, he succeeded in focusing on what was important. "Where…?"
"Why did you bring him here?" a very young woman's thickly accented voice hissed.
"He was the only one available", the boy huffed. Then sobered. "How is he?"
The equally serious-faced girl shook her head. Which spoke louder than any words ever could've. Then they both glared at Tony, who had no idea what he'd done to make them hate him this much.
Tony groaned. Whatever this was about… Now wasn't the time. "You look like you wanna chew my head off. There's a line for that. Right now we've got more important stuff to focus on, right?" His voice wasn't as steady as he would've wanted.
Reluctance written all over their faces, the two moved enough to let him see. Which, as it turned out, was almost as good as a punishment. Because what Tony saw would haunt him for the rest of his life, just like most of that cursed day's events.
A woman whose trembling hands were covered in blood sat on the floor. Desperate to save the unmoving man lay beside her, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. "Clint, honey, please…!" she pleaded barely audibly, most likely unaware that she uttered it out loud. On the floor Clint obviously wasn't listening. Didn't seem alive anymore.
Suiting up to be able to carry the archer as safely and quickly as possible, Tony mused darkly that things couldn't possibly get a lot worse from here. He was wrong.
Clint opened his eyes and blinked slowly, wondering sluggishly what was going on. And how he ended up to a train. Every seat was taken, by people who were every bit as grey as the train itself. It was like all other colors had been washed away from the world. Aside the gentle sighs of the train it was unnervingly quiet. The people around him stared straight ahead with blank, resigned expressions on their faces. As though having accepted whatever fate awaited them.
Alarm coursing through him, Clint turned his head to peer through the window. All he saw was unnaturally thick fog. After turning his head again he encountered something even more unsettling. Steve occupied the seat next to his, also grey and every bit as resigned as their fellow passengers.
Clint swallowed thickly. "Rogers? What happened? How did we get there?" His words seemed to echo on deaf ears. (And it did sound like they echoed a little.) "Steve?" It didn't matter that the previous time they were face to face the man shot him to avoid having to shoot Bucky. They were still friends and together in this mess. Sorting out everything else could wait.
A jolt of panic crossed Clint when the soldier didn't react. He reached out towards the man's shoulder. Only to find his hand going straight through. Steve shivered but offered nothing else.
Clint knew that his heart should've been racing but he couldn't feel even the slightest flutter. He should've been having a panic attack or bursting with rage. But all emotions were growing duller and duller. And it was getting terrifyingly hard to think.
Even so… Clint finally had a spark of an idea as to what was going on. One that should've scared him a lot more than it did.
They were dead, weren't they?
Tony's jet had exploded to a state of chaos. Medical professionals and equipment seemed to appear from thin air. The… allies Clint and the twins brought to the scene were most likely to thank for that. Their allied troupes also didn't hesitate to make the most of whatever they could find from the building.
Laura barely noticed the ruckus around her. Somewhere behind her Lila was still crying in Natasha's arms, asking about her daddy. And in front of her Clint lay on a medical table, already hooked on several tubes and machines.
Laura already thought she'd lost him once. Now, if the machinery's readings and warnings were any indication… He was slipping away from her again.
Laura couldn't stand being parted from him for another second. So she took his hand and squeezed as tightly as she dared to. "The battle… It's over. Lila and I are okay. Now…" She almost choked on her whispered words. "Now we need you to come back. I need you to come back." Even the thought of him leaving her now, like this… When they were supposed to be safe…
Laura squeezed his hand a little tighter when the equipment reported a stumbling heartbeat. By then her line of vision was so blurry that she could barely see. "You're… You're more stubborn than this, honey." Of course she knew, on a level of reason, that even his now altered body had its limits. He lost far too much blood and it was highly likely that organs had been damaged. But she couldn't give up yet. "For me. For the kids. For your team. One more time. Because… We're all your mess. And we need you."
Once upon a time – in a different life, in a different time – Bucky was very good and suave with people. Especially ladies. But there in the jet… Surrounded by people who didn't know him and definitely didn't trust him… He felt all alone. It wasn't the first time he felt that way. But this occasion hurt more than those before.
At first everyone darted suspicious looks towards him, obviously wondering if he'd lose his mind once more. When it became apparent that such wouldn't happen he was ignored entirely. Everyone had far more pressing concerns than a traumatized soldier to comfort when they had two dying men to look after.
Bucky embraced his role as an outcast. He sat out of everyone's way, legs pulled to his chest and both arms wrapped around them. So focused on keeping an eye on Steve that he didn't realize that he was trembling miserably.
At some point a redhaired girl whose name he hadn't heard stopped by to wrap a blanket around his shoulders. She dashed away with a look of sympathy before he got the chance to thank her. Leaving him alone once more.
Bucky fixed his eyes on Steve yet again. No amount of gulps erased the lump sitting in his throat. "You'd better keep fighting", he whispered. Because he couldn't lose the only person he had left, not like this. Not before he'd had the chance to at least start the process of repaying everything his best friend had done for him. And definitely not because Steve had taken a shot that should've ended Bucky's life. "This isn't the end of the line, Steve."
'Steve?'
Steve would've gasped. But there didn't seem to be any breath in his lungs. It should've bothered him but it didn't. He blinked very slowly and wondered vaguely why everything was grey.
He did feel a stab of something real, raw and genuine when he found Clint sitting beside him. Clearly confused, almost as resigned as the others. Fading away. "Clint?" he murmured, so softly that even he barely heard. "What… happened? Did we lose?" Did the world end? Because this whole thing definitely looked and felt like the end of the world.
Clint blinked once, focusing on him with visible difficulty. "I… don't know. I don't…" The man shook his head, for a fleeting moment more aware, then slipping. "I can't remember…"
Steve blinked as well. Sought, struggled… "Me neither", he admitted quietly. He didn't like not knowing. "The others… They're not here. Maybe they made it."
"Maybe", Clint echoed dully, eyes on the thickening fog outside.
Steve had no idea if this really was the end. If this was the final journey he'd ever make. If it was… There was so much he needed to say.
"Clint, there's… I need to say this. While I still can." It was hard to find the words when even thinking was almost too much. He looked down in shame and remorse. "What… I did to you…" I never wanted to hurt you. If there was any other choice… You have to believe me…! "I'm sorry…! I'm so sorry…"
"I know." There was no malice in Clint's tone. Perhaps they'd drifted too deep and too far to experience something as intense as rage and hatred. The archer met his eyes with exhausted, almost soulless ones. (Almost – the archer's spirit was still there, hanging on stubbornly.) "I've made mistakes, too. Faced… impossible decisions." Was that… a hint of a smile…? "Wherever we're going… At least we're not going alone."
Steve tried to smile, too. Even if feeling anything was getting harder and harder. "So am I." He followed the archer's example and stared at the fog. It was hypnotizing. Enough so to keep them both from noticing that the train was slowing down. "I'm… not sure I'm ready to die yet. But… I don't know what I have left to go back for." His very own actions had probably severed all bonds he once had with the Avengers. There was very little hope that Bucky could be brought back. Who did he have left? What did he have to fight for?
Clint, who was sliding further once more, said nothing.
Someone else did. The same voice that called out to him before. The words echoed in his head. 'The world still needs Captain America. Especially now. The Avengers need you. So does James.'
The name had enough impact to make Steve shudder. He licked his lips. 'What if I can't find my way back anymore?' He'd ended up so very lost. With Edith, and now this… How would he ever find his way to even a ghost of the life he once had?
The train stopped with a soft but hungry gasp.
'I will show you the way.'
Steve and Clint would've never made it all the way to New York. So the group did the next best thing and rushed to the nearest hospital that was well-equipped enough to have a shot at saving someone in the duo's condition. By the time they were herded to a waiting room the remaining Avengers and reinforcements were too exhausted to put up a fight with the medical staff or each other.
Sitting with his head buried to his hands, Tony felt sick to his stomach while absolutely everything began to truly sink in. Clint had a family. The adorable little girl who was now sleeping in her mom's protective arms. As well as his mother and brother, who were both a part of this nightmare. Clint was still alive, barely. Steve's best friend killed Tony's parents. Only… It wasn't really Bucky, was it? With the wrath fading, Tony finally began to understand. A little too late, as was far too often the case with him.
Bucky was in no control over himself when the Winter Soldier killed the Starks. But Tony was in perfect control when he attempted to kill the man. And as the result of his actions someone he still considered a friend, deep down, might die. What kind of a person was he?
"That… is what I have been wondering since I was a child." The girl, Wanda as he now knew, took a seat a couple of chairs away. Her brother's mistrusting, sharp eyes were constantly on him. She didn't look Tony's way. "Since the weapons your company created tore down our home… Destroyed nearly all of Sokovia… Killed our parents and almost us as well… I have been wondering what kind of a monster Tony Stark is. I feel your mind now. And… I feel sorry for you. Because I can see how broken you are behind that mask of iron."
"I'm fine", Tony growled, her words biting too deep for comfort.
Wanda shook her head. "No, you're not. You're fighting to not have a panic attack. And I… someone to whom you ended up causing a similar loss Bucky was forced to cause you… am the only one trying to help."
Tony emitted a choked snort. "Are you trying to make me feel worse?" Because it was working.
Wanda didn't roll her eyes but seemed to come close. "No. I am trying to help, if you let me."
Tony frowned. "Why?" Why would she do anything for him?
Wanda met his eyes, hers hard but free of ill intent. "I want to stop the cycle of hatred and destruction here. There has been enough damage."
Tony agreed with all his heart.
He was tense when Wanda's hands ghosted around his head, unsure how good of an idea it was to let her mess with his mind. To his surprise she was fast and velvet smooth. And the flood of emotions that soon came grabbed a hold before he saw it coming.
There was loneliness and crushing remorse. Immense sadness. But then, shining through everything like the beam of a flashlight… Warmth. Friendship. Caring. Forgiveness.
"What…" Tony gasped, stunned. "What was that?"
"Steve." Wanda's gaze held sadness. "He has not forgiven himself. But he has forgiven you. And I'm trying to forgive you, too. Because even after all the years Hydra was lying to Pietro and me… I want to be the kind of a person my parents would be proud of." She took a deep breath. "Maybe it's time you learn forgiveness, too."
Tony was absolutely speechless for a while. Eventually he focused elsewhere because her words… were too much. "You can feel him? And Clint?" After her nod he hesitated uncharacteristically before going on. "How are they doing?"
Wanda looked away. "They are both fading. I can barely brush their minds anymore." She frowned. "I've seen how quickly Clint heals. And… Steve should recover as fast. It's like they have stopped trying. But…" She frowned and focused, listening to something only she could detect. "There is someone trying to show them the way back."
Clint felt dizzy and suddenly achy as he stood at the exact same time with Steve. Something like confusion and curiosity stirred while the train's doors slid open. Outside Charles Xavier sat waiting, the only one with color in the world of grey. The telepath's eyes were warm and inviting. 'There you are. I was worried that I found you too late.' The man focused on him. 'There are people waiting for you.'
Clint actually felt it. Laura's love and fear. Lila's confusion, sheer terror and longing. What father wouldn't have reacted to that? He didn't even notice how the tips of his fingers gained a breath of color. He did feel a tiny flutter in his chest, where life was rushing back.
Clearly satisfied with whatever the man saw in his mind, Charles focused on Steve. 'No matter how far into the dark you have drifted, it's never too late to turn back. It's never too late to try starting over again. Because this isn't the end of the line.'
Those words were like a magic trick. Steve's eyes widened, all color flooding back into them. The man shivered while more color and life returned. Then made his way out of the train to join Charles.
Clint was about to follow. He already took the first step. Until he felt something. A brush of cold air, solid enough to feel like a hand.
The flutter Clint had experienced faded away. Everything else did. Slowly and with difficulty he peered over his shoulder. What he saw was almost enough to bring him to his knees.
Cooper sat at the back of the train, in the very last row. Grey, his vacant eyes fixed forward. Nearly completely faded.
In one operating theater a surgical team sucked in a collective sigh of relief as Steve's vitals began to stabilize.
In another operating theater the eyes on the nurse monitoring Clint's vitals widened when the numbers began to crumble once more. She cried out an alarm, seconds before the machinery did. She knew all too well that with how many times they'd already pulled him back, they might lose him this time.
TBC
A/N: Ooookay. (takes a deep breath) That was a trippy, emotional ride. But WHAT THE HECK is gonna happen next? Steve seems to be fighting. (Thanks, Charles!) But we've still gotta get Clint off that damned train. And what's with Cooper…?
Can this tale have a happy ending? Only a little more to go before an epilogue.
Thoughts? Comments? Threats…? PLEASE, do let me hear from you! It ALWAYS makes my day.
Until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.
SomaRandomHuman: Lila's gonna be so traumatized by this. (whimpers) Poor girl! And her daddy, too! Let's hope that the families (Barton and Avengers alike) got a happy ending.
Gigantic thank yous for the review! Until next time.
MLAkittenz: Welcome aboard! (grins) Awww! I'm actually REALLY flattered that the chapter got you so emotional. (BEAMS, and hugs)
Poor EVERYONE, right? Let's hope that the good guys get the happy ending they deserve. And Ross should die ten more painful deaths for what he did…!
Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.
Guest: I'm OVERJOYED beyond all words that you enjoyed the chapter so! (BEAMS) And especially that you think I did Quicksilver justice. He absolutely shouldn't have died the way he did!
Edith is a monster. (Or… was…? A few minutes with a pissed off Natasha is a long time..) But even monsters are born for a reason. Still… She'd better suffer for what she did…!
Massive thank yous for the review!