Author's Note: Read "Into the Dark: Part 1" before you read this! It was published day 3 of Whumptober 2020.

The Avengers Whump & Bromance Anthology

Into the Dark: Part 2

Whumptober 2020

PenPatronus

Steve sat alone in the dark hospital room with his face in his hands and only the beeps of the heart monitor to keep him company. Blind, he reached out a hand and found the one belonging to the man in the bed. It was cold and clammy. His fingernails needed cut. Steve squeezed the hand and said to the comatose man, "I can't stand this anymore, Tony. It's been a month. You gotta wake up."

Someone knocked on the door. Steve wiped his eyes dry a moment before Bruce entered the room, leaving the overhead light off. Bruce carried a black backpack. He emptied it at Tony's feet and took out a book-sized black object. Using his phone, he synced the machine first to the TV hanging from the wall in front of Tony's bed, then to what looked to Steve like a normal pair of glasses. Gently, Bruce set the glasses on Tony's pale nose. The black box beeped one, twice, and then a third time. A light turned blue.

"What is this?" Steve asked.

"Stark tech," said Bruce. The phone's muted light cast shadows across the doctor's pale, desperate face. "Tony's able to take something he imagines and cast it with holograms. I want to see if this thing can show us what he's imagining right now. We don't have the hologram set, but I'm betting we can just use the tv."

"He's in a coma," said Steve. "He's not imagining anything."

Bruce waved a finger at him. "Common misconception about comas. His brain is damaged, yes, but the parts of him that think, dream, and imagine weren't affected. He's in there, Cap."

"And you think… You think these glasses will show us what's going on in his mind?"

"I know they will," said Bruce.

"And this will help him… How?"

Bruce shrugged. "Uh… That part I haven't figured out yet. Let's just see if this works, first." His fingers trembled as they worked his phone. "All right… Here we go." He looked up at the television, and hit a button.

An old episode of "Star Trek" was playing, mute, on the tv. The screen—

—went blank.

Complete darkness.

Bruce sighed, disappointed. "Dammit. Maybe you have to be conscious to operate—whoa!" Steve and Bruce's jaws dropped when the screen suddenly exploded with color. Dozens of images of Bruce and the Hulk flashed like fireworks. Bruce working in the lab, Bruce washing dishes, Hulk juggling Chitauri, Bruce removing his glasses and rubbing his forehead, Bruce shaking hands when he first met Tony… The last image, one of Bruce grinning, eyes wide with excitement, stayed on the screen the longest, and then faded away.

"What the hell was—" Jaws again dropped when, at the sound of Steve's voice, dozens of images of him appeared. Steve boxing, Steve cooking eggs, Steve playing pool, Steve waving his hand during battle, Steve dodging a bullet and, finally, Steve smiling, eyes narrowed but not clenched. He looked… Proud.

"I think…" Bruce's faces returned to the screen when he spoke up again. "I think he's hearing our voices, and these are the triggered memories. Wow. Hey, let's talk at the same time. Just—Just say the alphabet with me, all right? Ok." Steve and Bruce went from A to Z and watched, mesmerized, as both of their faces swirled around the screen. "I wonder why…" Bruce muttered, then he smacked himself on the forehead. The remote to the television sat on a chest of drawers directly under it. He picked the remote up and unmuted the tv. Then he gestured for Steve to speak.

"Hey, Tony…" Steve didn't know what to say. "We, uh, we all miss you, and we want you to get better—" As Cap spoke, as images of his face appeared on the screen, so did the memory of his voice. "Avengers assemble!" Steve shouted on the screen. "Tony, would you get some sleep already? You look like a walking corpse." "Tony, you don't have to eat Clint's cooking, but you shouldn't spit it out right in front of him." "Tony, look out!" "Stark, on my six!" "You better stop pretending to be a hero." Steve winced at that last one. He nodded at Bruce.

Bruce took a deep, steadying breath, then said, "Yeah, uh, Tony, we miss you. That's all we talk about back at the Tower. You have to get better…" Bruce's faces on the tv started talking. "Tony, that's brilliant!" "We are not playing Battleship again – you use JARVIS to cheat." "Yes, she's gorgeous. No, I don't have a shot with her." "That was years ago, Tony. You have to let it go." "I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out." Bruce flinched. He'd forgotten that had come out of his mouth.

"Oh, man. He is thinking." Steve turned and looked down at Tony. "You are in there," he whispered.

"Told you," said Bruce, his chin high. "Let's keep experimenting." Banner put his phone down next to the remote and pulled a chair over to the right side of Tony's bed. "Hey," he said, almost directly into Tony's ear, "remember that time we were talking about working on artificial intelligence?"

The TV screen lit up. "Ultron is a lame name, Tony," Bruce said on the TV.

Thrilled, Bruce put his hands against his face and laughed. "This is amazing."

Steve sat down in a chair on Tony's left. "Tony, what did I say to you before we left for that last mission?"

Up on the screen, a smiling Captain America grinned at the "camera" and put his hand out, likely onto Tony's shoulder. "You're a good man," he said. "I don't give you near enough credit for that. I'm proud of you."

Steve gasped. "That's exactly what I said. He has a photographic memory."

"So do I," said Bruce. "A lot of exceptionally smart people do. No offense, Cap."

Steve took none. "It's almost like we can communicate with him. Do you think…" Steve leaned in again. "Stark, open your eyes." He and Bruce waited for a moment, but Tony didn't move. "Worth a shot," Steve muttered.

"Steve?" came Tony's voice from the TV. "Bruce?"

"Yeah?" Steve said to the TV. He then turned to look down at Tony's pale face. "Stark?"

No images appeared on the television. Just blackness. And Tony's voice. "Hey, guys… This, uh, this is a weird dream. I've never had a lucid dream before. That's what these are called, right…?"

Steve stood. "Tony, you're not dreaming. You're talking to us. We're in your hospital room right now and we're talking to you."

Silence, then Tony said, "Why… Why can't I see you?"

"Your eyes aren't open, Tony," Bruce explained. "You're in a coma. You're in a comma and you can hear us and – wow – this is amazing. Tony, what – what do you feel right now?"

Tony didn't speak for a full 20 seconds. "Cold," he said finally. "I feel cold." Steve went over to the drawers and took out a blanket. He shook it open, then laid it on top of Tony's body, careful to cover every inch up to his chin. "Not that kind of cold, Captain Dumbass," Tony said. "Hey, wait – I felt that! I feel the blanket!"

"Incredible." Bruce took off his glasses and looked at the ceiling like he was thanking God.

"How did you know I'm the one who put the blanket on you?" Steve asked.

"Because I know you, and because I knew you'd take me literally when I said I'm cold." Tony hesitated, then elaborated by saying, "My head feels cold. I don't know how to explain it. That's the closest I can get to it. Did you say we're in a hospital? Why am I in a coma?"

"We got blown out of the sky, Tony, remember? Then we went into the mine and fought HYDRA and you hurt your head – remember?" Steve and Bruce looked up at the television and saw Tony's memories of the incident: Hulk on fire, landing in the water and not having the strength to roll over, waking up on the table in the store, entering the mine, getting blown up by dynamite… The memories kept going. And then, they stopped. Suddenly. Right around the time the wounded Steve threw Clint and Tony over his shoulder. That was apparently the last straw, and Tony passed out.

"I remember. That was fun!" Tony said. "And by fun I mean the complete opposite of fun. You guys all right? Barton?"

"We're healed up. That was also the opposite of fun." Steve reached his hand out, hesitated, and then wrapped his hand around Tony's and squeezed. "You feel that?"

"Your hand? Yeah – yeah, I think so. Left hand, yes? Yes."

"Can you squeeze back?"

"I'll try." Bruce and Steve stared anxiously at the hand, desperate to see it move.

It did. Steve felt a squeeze.

"Oh my god." Steve squeezed Tony's hand again in response. He got his hopes up again and said, "Tony, can you open your eyes?"

Suddenly a sound like static erupted from the television. Cap and Banner looked up at it and saw that it was blank. Black again. No faces. "Tony?" Bruce said. He looked down at his friend, down at his closed eyes. "Tony, you all right?"

"I think, uh…" Tony's voice on the screen sounded like it was far away, like it was fading, like it was disintegrating. "I think, um… God, something hurts… Feels like something's coming… Do you smell pennies?"

When the seizure hit, Bruce and Steve hopped backwards and away like Tony had just exploded into fire. Alarms went off. The glasses fell off Tony's nose. Bruce stepped over to Steve's side as hospital personnel stormed the room. Banner, seeing the shocked, concerned, panicky look on Steve's face, gently put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Did we do this?" Steve wondered at a whisper.

"I don't know," Bruce admitted.

After the seizure stopped, after the life signs stabilized, after Tony's brainwaves returned to exactly what they were before, after the doctors and nurses left the room, Steve and Bruce returned to Tony's bedside. Bruce fished the glasses up off the floor and held them with both hands. "Maybe we shouldn't," Bruce muttered, answering his internal question out loud.

"Ever again?" asked Steve. Steve put his hands on his hips and dropped his chin to his chest. "Can we at least… At least try to see if he's all right? Just – just for a second?"

Bruce sighed. He put the glasses back on Tony's nose. Both turned to look at the tv. It was black, so they both started speaking – Bruce listing the numbers in Pi and Steve talking about what he had for lunch." They both watched, expecting to see their faces light up the screen with memories… But there was nothing. Just blackness. "Is the, um, machine working right?"

Bruce didn't need to look. "Yeah."

"Glasses are on?"

"Yeah."

"Dammit."

"Yeah."

Steve took Tony's hand and squeezed it. "Squeeze back," he whispered. "Please."

Nothing.

Steve put his face in his hands and sighed.

Bruce went up to the top of Tony's bed and stared at the brainwave patterns. "His brain is just like it was before the seizure. This should work. Why isn't it working?" Suddenly, Bruce snapped his fingers. A smile blossomed across his face and he turned to Steve, arms outward, and shouted, "That's a terrible idea!"

Steve mimicked his posture. "What?"

Still grinning, Bruce said, "It's an awful idea that might get you killed!"

Steve pointed at a chair. "Banner, Doc, you're, uh, a little… Manic."

Bruce rounded the bed and took Steve by his upper arms. "Star Trek!"

"Yeah…" Steve cocked both eyebrows and said, slowly, like he was talking to someone delusional. "Star Trek, yeah?"

"This is why there are two pairs of glasses! So two people can use this thing at the same time!"

"BRUCE!" Steve bellowed. "You're not making any sense. I'm not Tony. I can't read your mind. Tell me what you're thinking."

"Read your mind – good phrase, Cap. Yes. Read his mind!"

Steve grabbed a chair. He forced Bruce to sit down, and then knelt in front of him, hands on his knees. "Bruce. Settle. Talk. What are you thinking?"

"Ok. All right. Ok. I'll try to dumb this down for you." Banner wiped his face with the palms of his hands and took a deep breath. "What if we put the second pair of glasses on you and hook you up to the same machine we're using for Tony?"

"Then… Then you'll see what I'm imagining, too?"

"Yes, at first. But what happens when I sync you to the same frequency as Tony's brain?"

"Frequency?"

Bruce licked his top lip and waggled his eyebrows. "We're going to do a mind meld."

Steve nodded. "Star Trek."

"Star Trek."

"And why is this a terrible idea?"

Bruce's face scrunched up. He scratched the back of his head and looked around the room at anything but Steve. "Because to do this your brainwaves have to match Tony's."

"Tony's in a coma.."

"Yeah. I'll have to, um, kill you – just a little bit. I'll inject you with, um, morphine, let's say – and keep injecting you until your brainwaves, well, match."

"Until I'm in a coma."

"Until you're in a coma, yeah." Bruce bit his bottom lip. "I told you it was an awful idea that might get you killed."

Steve nodded. "Star Trek III. McCoy has to do a mind meld to save Spock, but it might kill him…" Steve shrugged. "I choose the danger."

"Thought you would." Bruce looked at Steve with wide, grateful eyes.

Bruce locked the door – and then barricaded it. Steve moved Tony over to the right edge of the bed and laid down next to him. Bruce went rummaging through medical supplies and found a needle and a vial of morphine. He then hooked Steve up to the same machines as Tony. "What do you think I'll – um – see in there?" Steve wondered.

"Well, you'll see Tony, I hope. Maybe a memory. Maybe something symbolic. Maybe his face or – or maybe nothing at all. I don't know."

"What do I do if I find him?"

Bruce prepped the needle. He moved over to Steve and placed the morphine against his arm. "I don't know," he sighed. "Tell him we miss him. Tell him to keep fighting… Tell him to wake up."

Steve nodded. He watched Bruce insert the morphine. He then turned his head for a last look at Tony. Steve fell asleep. Bruce was alone.

He got to work.


Steve woke up in a child's bedroom and found himself surrounded by… Himself. His face was on every wall of the room – saluting, running, looking bravely at something in the distance. There were Captain America toys, comics, books – anything that could be made into Captain America was Captain America. There was even a boardgame.

A brown-haired child peeked out from under the bed.

"Stop, please," Tony begged.

To Be Continued