Caves were Tony's least favorite environment in the world. Hospitals were a close second. And as soon as he came to, as fuzzy as his head was, he could easily tell he was in one. He didn't even need to open his eyes, just the feel of the not too soft sheets and the plastic smell of the oxygen mask and the steady beep of the heart monitor made it all too clear.

His throat was sore in a way that he'd learned to associate with intubation – and wasn't it swell that he'd gone through that enough times to recognize it – but hm, what was this – he raised his left hand to poke at some unexpected tubing in his neck. A central line? He must've really done a number on himself this time.

He only realized there'd been a nice warm hand clasping his right when it let go to catch his left.

"Tony? Better leave that alone."

Steve.

Tony opened his eyes, and the clinical shades of white and beige around him looked infinitely better with Steve in the middle of them in a form-fitting blue T-shirt that matched his eyes.

Since Tony's right hand was now free, he used it to pull the oxygen mask off his face. He had some serious trouble with his coordination, but he still got it before Steve could stop him.

"Hi," he said to Steve. Two letters, and even that sounded breathless. How pathetic was that.

"Hi," Steve said, bent closer to kiss his cheek, and made to put the mask back. "I think you'd better leave that alone, too. You're still recovering, you've got bruises on your lungs, it was quite bad for a while there."

Now it was Tony's turn to catch Steve's hand, curling his fingers around Steve's wrist. Of course, even if he hadn't been feeling weak as a kitten, Tony would never have held a chance against Steve's strength. Still, Steve stopped. It probably had more to do with the steady fixed stare Tony gave him.

"Where?" Tony asked. One-word sentences were all right.

"You're in the hospital, Tony."

Captain Obvious, Tony thought, but there were too many syllables in that for the amount of air he was willing to spend.

"Yeah," he just said. "Where?"

"Venice. Italy."

That took him by surprise, and the pause was long enough that Steve sneakily slipped the oxygen mask over Tony's nose and mouth again. All right, maybe Steve had a point and there was a reason he'd had it in the first place.

"It was Natasha's idea. It wasn't much further away than the nearest hospital, and she thought you'd appreciate it if the staff spoke a language that you know," Steve explained.

Tony answered with a nod. Good thinking from Natasha. He'd need to get her something nice. He would definitely have freaked out if he'd woken up in the middle of some painful medical procedure surrounded by people speaking in a language he couldn't understand. Almost as bad as waking up in a cave.

Waking up in a cave. With a broken leg. Shit. How had he not though about that right away? His leg. He could barely feel it, just a vague distant ache, maybe that was just the drugs, or maybe it wasn't, maybe it was a really bad omen.

There must've been a flash of panic on his face, because Steve quickly grabbed his hand again, gave it a solid squeeze, and asked, "What is it?" in his most worried tone.

Tony raised his head a little to take a look. There was an unnerving amount of metalwork around his right leg, but behind all of that, at the far end of his bed, he could see his toes.

He still had all his toes, he still had both his feet. Whew. That would make things so much easier.

"Tony? Do you want me to get someone? I should probably go get someone anyway since you're awake…"

Apparently he'd managed not to set off any alarms, because no one had come in running yet. Tony shook his head and pulled the oxygen mask off, but kept it in his hand. "I'm good," he said. Because he was. Better than he'd expected, really. A lot better.

"Others?" he asked, hoping that Steve wouldn't need him to elaborate.

"Thor wanted to see the canals, so he's cruising around with Natasha and Clint right now. Bruce, I think he's actually on the phone with Pepper, making arrangements for an air ambulance so we can get you back home as soon as possible."

Thor, in a gondola. In full armor, Mjolnir in hand, his cape billowing in the wind. Now, that was something. Not quite like the Hulk in a cave, but almost. Tony chuckled a little.

Yeah, he was good.

He put the mask on again and drifted off to sleep.

Steve glanced at the islands and canals of the city far below, shrinking away behind the small round window as the private air ambulance gained height. He had barely seen more of the place than Tony, since he'd spent most of his time in the hospital, on the mainland – first keeping watch while Tony slept through the worst of it, heavily sedated, then keeping him company when he was awake and more or less lucid.

The worst of it had been pretty bad.

Now, Tony was doing all right and getting better, and they were on their way home. Steve still felt terribly worried, despite the perfectly capable and fully equipped medical escort in the plane. Flying over the Atlantic, they'd be far away from the nearest hospital if Tony should suddenly take a turn for the worse – like the one soon after they'd arrived in Venice, when he'd very nearly stopped breathing again. On top of everything else that had been wrong with him, it had been a very close call. Once they'd figured out what was going on and managed to stabilize him, the doctors had assured Steve that pulmonary contusions generally resolved in a matter of days and wouldn't leave any lasting damage. It had still been scary enough to give him bad dreams.

Tony, himself, didn't seem too worried. He spent the first hour of the flight on the phone with Pepper, and the next few with Bruce by his bedside, discussing the technical details of what he wanted to do about his leg. After that, he went to sleep, and slept for four hours straight.

As always, Steve waited by his side, dozing, and was right there when Tony woke up.

Tony blinked groggily, but his eyes instantly found Steve's. He was frowning a little. "Steve, you know, you don't need to feel guilty," he said, out of the blue, as if taking up some conversation that they hadn't been having. He no longer sounded out of breath when he spoke, although he still had a nasal cannula for supplemental oxygen.

"Tony? What on Earth are you talking about?" Steve said, confused.

"Don't get me wrong, I love it that you're always there when I wake up. It's just the way you look at me, every single time. Like it's your fault I got injured in the first place."

"I –" Steve stammered. Was he that easy to read? "Yeah, well, all right, maybe I do feel guilty. How could I not? I hurt you back there. Sure, it was to get you out, but it could've been avoided. You wouldn't have those cracked ribs…"

"Steve. You do realize those are the least of my worries? The lung injuries are from the cave-in, not from that tight passage. Yeah, it sucked. Yeah, I might have a few nightmares about it. Still, you had to do it, and you got me out of there. That's all that matters. So, stop fretting and kiss me."

Steve moved in to do just that, relishing the feel of Tony's lips, warm and alive against his.

The following day after they'd returned home, Tony fixed his leg. The actual procedure took less than an hour.

Back in Venice, the doctors had told Tony that the first surgery was only the beginning of a long process that, with several more operations, some luck and a lot of hard work, just might give him a functional leg again, though not quite the way it used to be. There had been damage not just to the soft tissue and the bone, but to the nerves and blood vessels as well, and frankly, it was a miracle that they had been able to save it at all. Obviously, Tony was not going to settle for that.

Steve didn't like the Extremis virus. It wasn't like his own healing factor, an accelerated but otherwise normal healing process. Tony said that it was hacking the body's natural healing and as such, it actually was exactly the same thing as the super soldier serum, but that just didn't ring true. Extremis was something volatile and dangerous. Even Tony couldn't deny that – it could make people explode, of course it was dangerous! Although Tony had tweaked it so that he could use it in a limited, controlled manner, only to fix this one thing and be done with it, he did admit it was a last resort and not something he'd ever want to repeat, and wouldn't recommend to anyone. At least not before several more years of research.

Tony had only fixed his leg. He hadn't dared use Extremis to fix the fractured bones in his chest, not when he'd already used the virus in the same part of his body not too long ago. They were much less serious anyway, and should heal well without extra tricks. So, as much as Tony tried to convince Steve that Extremis was perfectly safe, Steve could see that Tony had his misgivings as well.

The bottom line was, Tony had fixed his leg, and less than two weeks after they'd crawled up from the depths to witness the magnificent sunrise in the mountains, he returned to the Tower, weak, tired, hunched and guarding his ribs, but without as much as a limp.

"Everything seems clear," Bruce said, looking up from the microscopy pictures on the screen. "No signs of anything Extremis-related in any of the blood or tissue samples."

"Good, good. Nothing like knowing I'm not going to spontaneously combust or start setting things on fire," Tony said.

Of course, he had been pretty sure that the protocol he'd developed would work. He'd used it before on his chest and it had been fine. But it was biological, which meant it was finicky, with all too many basic science details missing from the puzzle, so one could never be too certain. There could always have been some obscure difference in gene expression or epigenetics or immunology or whatnot that might've messed things up.

"You can tell Steve to stop worrying about it now," Bruce added.

Tony made a face. "Or better yet, you can tell him. I've told him sixteen times. I've been counting. He doesn't believe it when I say it."

"I can't blame him, really. You didn't see yourself down there."

Tony couldn't remember all that much about the details himself. Everything that had happened after the others had found him in the cave was a bit hazy, as was a good part of his time in the hospital in Italy. What he did remember was that he'd been certain he was about to die, more than once, so he could tell it had been pretty bad.

"I wouldn't have made it out of there without you, you know," Tony said, in a sudden bout of sincerity. "Steve may have been the one who kept me sane, but really, you're the one who kept me alive. Well, you and Jarvis, but anyways. Thanks, Bruce."

He put out his hand to shake Bruce's, but halfway there, he realized it actually felt way too formal and totally not right at all, and stepped closer and went for a hug instead.

Bruce patted his back a bit awkwardly, but he looked quite happy when Tony pulled away.

Author's Note: I originally planned this fic to be 14 chapters long, but I ended up writing one more than that. So, the next chapter will be the epilogue, and the end of this story. :)