Steve's head snaps up as he hears the two low note whistle that he dreads. He waits, honing in his listening towards the direction it came from.
"Cap. We need you over here." He hears the whisper. It's how they decided to contact him since they know his hearing is so sensitive. Alert him with the whistle and then whisper the message once he knows to listen.
His eyes close and he tries not to let the crushing grief overcome him. Not another one.
He strides over, ignoring the shouts and shots of the battle as it rages around him. There's something that's a larger priority.
He sees the medic and he bounds over, crashing to his knees beside the man who is squirming and shouting and trying to wipe off the blood on his hands, not realizing it's his own.
He looks at the medic and the guy shakes his head subtly. Steve sighs and leans over, getting the man's attention.
"Soldier." He says gently, "Soldier, I need you to listen to me."
The man's eyes snap to his and widen. Steve shoves off his cowl, and focuses on the man, keeping eye contact even as his left hand searches the man's torso for the bullet wounds. He finds it and presses against it holding pressure to the flood that attempts to pour out.
"Ca-aptain?" The man stutters, eyes locked on Steve's face. "Are we winning?"
Steve feels his lungs constrict but he keeps his voice level and posture relaxed, "yes, Soldier, because of you, we're winning."
The man gasps, half in pain and half in shock, "b-beca-ause of m-me?"
"You've done well." Steve says firmly, "you're going home."
The man's eyes flutter shut at that and a limp smile drags across his face and Steve watches as his muscles relax and his eyes go from being held up by choice to being left open in death.
He grits his teeth, trying not to let the trembling of his hands shake the man's now lifeless form. The medic rests a comforting hand on his shoulder and he bites back a sob.
"You should be proud." The medic says softly, "you made his last moment.'
"They shouldn't have been his last." Steve whispers hoarsely, unable to remove his hand from the man's chest. Still holding in the blood as it cools.
"All the same." The medic says, "you—"
The low two note whistle sounds from across the battlefield and Steve hunches forward. No. No…
"Cap. We need you over here." He hears the whisper.
A war between grief at another loss, and his duty as a captain wages within him as he gets to his feet, nods at the medic and takes off running.
He finds the wounded shoulder dragged off the side behind a barricade and the medic's assistant kneeling before him.
"Captain." The assistant says, "he needs your attention."
Steve turns towards the soldier and freezes, eyes refusing to believe what he's seeing.
A bullet wound to the neck oozes blood and a dirty grimy face stares up at the sky, blinking slowly. Curly light brown hair lays matted and wild, helmet left rocking to the side. Steve lurches forward, grabbing the kid's shoulders and hauling him up. Steve crushes the kid in a hug and starts to sob, "no. No. No. Stay with me. Peter! Peter, stay with me! I'm sorry!" He looks up at the assistant whose face is annoyed.
"You shouldn't have let him fight." The man accuses. "He's too young."
He's squeezing the boy, willing his own life force to save the kid's and he's crying, holding onto him tightly.
"Steve." He hears the kid say. And he sobs again, holding him tighter, knowing his enhanced body can take the force. "Steve, it's okay, Steve?"
"I'm here, Peter, I'm here. Stay with me, it's going to be okay." He pulls the boy back and puts trembling fingers against the wound, holding pressure. "I'm going to get you out of this. You're gonna go home." He's rambling now, keeping his eyes on Peter's glazed over ones, and keeping up a steady stream of reassurance, "you're gonna see Aunt May, huh? Won't that be nice? You'll get to be all cozy, I love New York in the winter, don't you? I'm going to get you home."
"Steve." The boy says calmly, "can you hear me?"
"I can hear you." He says reassuringly, "I've got you."
"Steve." The medic says, "you gotta come back to us now."
He furrows his brow, "what?"
"Steve, I'm okay."
He looks down at Peter whose blood is seeping past Steve's fingers and fear grips him again. He presses harder, hearing a squeak of surprise from the boy.
"I need bandages!" He snaps towards the medic. "Get some, now!"
"No, Steve." The medic responds. "You need to wake up. Peter's fine."
"Fine!" Steve bellows, "you think he looks fine!"
"You're dreaming about the war buddy, come back to us."
Steve's motions freeze.
"Yep, yep, that's it, come on back. It's not 1944. You're not on the battlefield. Peter is not dying in your arms."
Steve blinks. Eyes opening and seeing what's really before him.
He's on his bed, kneeling beside Peter who's laying splayed out on his back, eyes wide and concerned. Steve has one hand pressed against his chest and another pressing firmly to his neck where his nightmare had told him there was a bullet.
He looks up. Bucky is half on the bed, holding his arms out as if ready to snatch Peter away from Steve's grip if necessary.
Tony, Clint, and Natasha are all frozen, staring at him with wide eyes. Bruce and Wanda stand in the doorway, looking on in concern.
Steve lurches back, ripping his hands away from where he is gripping Peter, and slamming his back against the headboard trying to create as much space between him and Peter.
"I-I'm sorry." He rasps, "sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to grab you. I—"
He's cut off as Peter leaps forward, wrapping his skinny but incredibly strong arms around Steve and shoving his face against Steve's chest.
He feels the kid trembling and Steve can't help the shaking that wracks his own body. Energy coursing and crashing as reality sets in and his body comes down from the adrenaline high of battle.
The kid squeezes tighter and Steve shuts his eyes, allowing the pure concern radiating off the kid hugging him to soothe him a bit.
"Steve." Peter whispers, "I'm okay. I'm okay. You're okay." Peter continues, "you're safe here with us."
And something about those words crack something inside him because he curls into the kid, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face against the kid's shoulder.
—-
Bucky feels something ping off his arm and he's instantly alert. He sits up, and turns to the elevated heart rates. He finds Peter staring at him, wide eyed and in fear.
"What?" He whispers, the room still dark and everyone asleep.
Peter holds out his hands in a 'I don't know' gesture before he whispers back. "Something's wrong."
"How do you know?"
"I can sense it. Something's wrong with Steve."
Those words have him on his feet, and he can hear what the kid's talking about. Steve's heart rate is way too high.
He's about to reach out, when Steve sits up, eyes wide and unseeing. Steve's hands snatch Peter from where he was sitting beside him, and Bucky almost chokes when he realizes Steve is crying, "no. No. No. Stay with me. Peter! Peter, stay with me! I'm sorry!"
Realization crashes over both Peter and Bucky at the same time. Bucky reaches forward to touch Steve when he flinches to words they can't hear and starts hugging Peter tighter. The kid looks terrified, not of Steve, but of the situation. Bucky hears the others stir, but he ignores them, listening to Peter try to reassure Steve.
"Steve. Steve, it's okay… Steve?"
"I'm here, Peter, I'm here." Steve says, eyes still open and a thousand yards away, "Stay with me, it's going to be okay." Bucky watches, frozen in place as Steve pulls away from the boy, laying him on his back and pressing two fingers to an imaginary wound on Peter's neck. "I'm going to get you out of this. You're gonna go home. You're gonna see Aunt May, huh? Won't that be nice? You'll get to be all cozy, I love New York in the winter, don't you? I'm going to get you home."
Peter's eyes are immeasurably sad as he fully understands what's happening. "Steve." He says calmly, "can you hear me?"
"I can hear you." Steve says reassuringly, "I've got you." Bucky closes his eyes at the familiarity in that tone. The tone that says, 'you're dying but I can't let you know that. I'll take the burden of that knowledge instead'.
"Steve." Bucky says in anguish, "you gotta come back to us now."
He furrows his brow, "what?"
"Steve, I'm okay." Peter whispers.
Something must happen in the nightmare because Steve's eyes get impossibly wide and fearful and Bucky hears Peter make a sound of surprise, almost in pain. He reaches forward, ready to grab the kid when Steve turns to him, blank eyes finding him.
"I need bandages!" Steve snaps at him. "Get some, now!"
"No, Steve." Bucky responds. "You need to wake up. Peter's fine."
"Fine!" Steve bellows, "you think he looks fine!" Bucky winces at the volume and he watches as Peter stiffens.
"You're dreaming about the war buddy," Bucky says as calmly as he can manage. "Come back to us." Steve's motions freeze and Bucky nods, holding onto that thread. "Yep, yep, that's it, come on back. It's not 1944. You're not on the battlefield. Peter is not dying in your arms."
He watches as Steve's eyes blink into focus and freeze as he takes in the scene before him.
—-
Peter watches as shame and embarrassment cloud Steve's features as he practically flings himself away from Peter on the bed.
But Peter ignores the apologies that Steve is trying to get out. Charging forward and wrapping the giant man in a hug because if the adrenaline rush he was feeling was anywhere near what Steve was experiencing then they both needed to calm down, and Peter needed Steve to know it was okay.
"Steve." Peter whispers, "I'm okay. I'm okay. You're okay. You're safe here with us."
He practically feels the man crumble in his arms and he lets the sorrow and grief of whatever the man had just dreamt about seep out through the hug.
"I'm okay." He says again. "It was just a dream. I'm okay."
He feels Steve nod against his shoulder and Peter sighs in relief.
The bed shifts and Peter looks up to see Wanda resting on her knees beside them. She wraps her arms around them and tucks her head against Steve's. Her soft hair tickling Peter's ear.
She whispers so quietly that he knows only he and Steve, and probably Bucky, can hear.
"Some days. I dream of my parents and the day our apartment exploded. I dream of the different ways it could have gone, and if I'd asked to sit on the couch instead of the floor, or if I'd asked to go out to eat instead of come home to watch the tv show. I wonder if that would have saved them." She pauses, taking a deep breath, "dreaming of these things and what we wish we could have done differently is not a weakness. It is just the mind, processing the emotions. You had a fight yesterday with Peter. And it went awry, yes? Your brain is just trying to assimilate that information."
Peter can't tell what her purpose is. Maybe just to talk in soothing tones, or make him feel less embarrassed that his ptsd episode was so public, or perhaps to allay the fears that he hurt Peter from yesterday.
He can almost still feel the pressure from Steve's fingers on his neck. The desperation he felt reverberating through that motion. Steve had been truly afraid Peter was dying.
Steve's heart rate is starting to slow and Peter and Wanda sit there in silence. Letting him calm down. Bucky gets close at some point because Peter feels a metal hand ruffle through his hair before doing the same to Steve's.
Eventually, Steve lifts his head. Slightly red eyes peeking out at the group and he lets out a watery chuckle. "Well. Sorry about the wake up call."
The tension in the room breaks and Tony huffs out a laugh, "I've had worse alarm clocks."
Clint walks over, and Peter watches in surprise as the archer leans over him and into the group, grabs Steve's face and presses his forehead against the super soldier's. Instead of Steve pulling back, which Peter expects, Steve takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, allowing the gesture to continue.
No one seems surprised about this except Peter and Wanda and when Clint pulls back, Steve blinks and nods, "thanks Clint."
"You've been slacking on touch, haven't you?"
Steve winces, "maybe." He leans back a bit tiredly against the headboard. "But… in my defense, I've been cooped up in a bed with a broken back and no one was brave enough to initiate touch for fear of injuring me again."
Peter watches Clint nod, "okay, that's true, but no more slacking. You're healed. You need to ground yourself."
Steve nods and he looks at Bucky, a question in his eyes.
Bucky rolls his eyes, "fine." The man grumbles scooting closer to Steve and opening his arms in a sarcastic fashion.
Peter laughs as Steve hauls his friend into a hug and they sit there for a moment, just hugging before Steve lets him go. He looks at Clint. "You're right. It really does help."
Clint tips his head, "I know it does."
"My turn." Natasha says, slipping off the couch where she'd been sitting and squeezing between Steve and Bucky, pressing her back against the side boards and sighing. "So warm."
"You're just here to make us your own personal heated blankets." Bucky scowls.
"Hush." Natasha quips.
Wanda looks at them and then sighs, "okay. It's time."
The group looks at her and Bruce steps into the room. "Wanda—"
"No." She cuts him off, "No. I want to know. I have waited, and been patient and the situations I'm imagining are getting worse. I want to know what happened while I was gone."
Peter watches as everyone grows silent and the room drops 10 degrees. Yeeesh.
They haven't told him either.
Steve looks torn, "it's… a lot Wanda, it's a long story."
She looks around the room. "I know specifically that we have all day or at least you do. And I'm not going anywhere until you tell me. The others are welcome to stay or go."
She glows red, her will and determination apparent as she stares Steve down.
He finally sighs and nods, "fine."
"Pete." Tony calls, "time for you to go do some homework or something."
He balks, "what? Why!"
"This story ain't for kiddie ears."
"I'm not a kid!" Peter protests, "I'm one of the avengers." He adds weakly.
The other avengers start protesting his presence and he's trying to fight for his place when a whisper catches his attention.
"Peter." Steve says softly. "I would be fine with you listening, but if they don't think you should be in the room…"
Peter's eyes find Steve's, full of implication and Bucky's head whips towards Steve in question.
Peter looks around to see if anyone heard the emphasis, but they're all still trying to convince him to leave.
He throws his hands up in defeat. "Fine." He grumbles in show, muttering and gathering his things. He walks out of Steve's room slowly and then doubles back, using Bucky's room to enter through the vents, which he used yesterday to get into Steve's room.
The only people with good enough hearing to know he's there are already aware he's coming.
He scrambles in the correct direction. And then slithers silently, using his abilities to creep closer until he can hear the voices speaking.
It's Bruce at first, explaining how they managed to sedate him before he turned into the hulk. He doesn't remember their time in Detroit, so he lets Tony, Clint, and Natasha fill in those details.
Steve starts slowly, taking plenty of pauses and deep breaths and clearing his throat as he describes his time in the memory chair in Detroit. Peter can hear the entire room of elevated heart rates, and his sense is off the charts. Alerting him to how much distress is in the room below.
He can hear Wanda's muffled gasps and he has to clamp his own hand over his mouth to keep from making noise.
But Steve doesn't stop. He talks for hours, and when he can't, one of the others takes over. Peter's laying face down in the vents, his sleeve absorbing his tears as the ordeal that his team went through.
He tries to not sniffle, tries to keep his breathing even. But as the story progresses and somehow manages to get worse, he can't handle it. He's just heard about Steve having the device triggered by the word 'safe' and he breaks. He doesn't care how much noise he makes as he kicks out the corner vent and drops into the room.
Half of the room startles at his arrival, but Bucky just looks at him sadly and Steve smiles at him. "Hey, Peter."
The room starts to protest, but Steve just pats the space by his side and Peter runs towards it, scorching close and allowing Steve to wrap him under his arm, pulling him tight against his side.
"Steve." Tony admonishes, "he's just a kid!"
"I know." Steve says, "that's why it's important he knows. If he's going to choose to be part of the team, then he needs to know the risks."
"He's never going to go through what you went through." Tony snaps, "I won't allow it."
Steve opens his mouth to agree, but Wanda cuts him off, "oh like you allowed Steve to go through this?"
The room falls silent and Tony sighs, "you know that's not what I meant."
Wanda looks annoyed, about to spoil for an argument but Steve reaches out, grasping her shoulder, "Wanda, stop." He looks at Peter and squeezes him against his side. "Tony's right. I didn't mean to imply this could happen to Peter. I know the entire team would do anything to keep that from happening. I just mean…" he looks meaningfully at the others, "we learned the negative impact of keeping secrets. I didn't want to make that mistake again."
"I can't believe that happened to you." Peter whispers, ticking his head against his knees."
"Not done yet." Steve says softly. He turns to Wanda and continues. Peter listens, eyes wide and mouth agape as the story somehow manages to get worse.
Peter senses Bucky getting more agitated as the story goes on and it's not till they talk about the Raft that Peter understands.
Steve begins to explain what Ross did to him with the chair and Bucky's memories and Wanda's eyes glow red, her hands flinging out and she's shouting.
"No!"
He feels the gravity in the room shift and suddenly his head is filled with images, Steve in the chair, Steve fighting Natasha and Clint, Steve ripping Bucky's arm off.
"WANDA!" He hears Tony shout, "stop!"
The gravity resorts and Peter leans forward, panting as his brain goes quiet again.
"Sorry." She gasps, "sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to." She's crying and Steve is gathering her in his arms and holding her and Peter close.
"How are you comforting us?" Peter asks brittly, "we should be comforting you."
"Me comforting you, does comfort me." He says gently. Then he holds them tighter as he finishes the story, "that's it." He says finally. "That's all."
"That's ALL!" Wanda exclaims, "I should have been here. I shouldn't have left! I could have—"
Peter feels Steve shift, taking both his hands and grasping Wanda's shoulders. "No." He says firmly. "That's not the point of this story, and I won't let you start down that train of thought. What happened happened, and we're better for it."
"How?" Wanda asks, incredulously.
Steve looks down at Peter and smiles, then around at his teammates. "Because now I know we really are a team. I trust all of you with my life. I hope you trust me with yours. And our bond as a team has actually turned into being genuine friends. Right?"
When they nod he takes one hand and rests it on Bucky's shoulder. "It brought Bucky home too, and now I have you guys coming into my room and trusting me as your team leader. I'm grateful."
No one seems able to argue with that, even though Peter can tell a few want to. But instead they all just sit in each other's presence and stay quiet.
Until Peter's stomach rumbles and he looks up sheepishly. "Anyone up for a late breakfast?"
—
Bucky's chowing down on the omelette Steve had made him when he turns to say something to Peter and catches sight of the bruises on his neck.
He looks over at Steve who is flipping the last few omelettes on the stove and doesn't seem to have noticed.
He gets Peter's attention and yanks him off his stool. The kid gives him a questioning look but he just angles Peter's body away from Steve and points to his neck. Bruising, he mouths.
Peter's eyes widen and he goes to cover his neck with his hand.
How long? Bucky mouths.
Peter winces, maybe an hour? Then he gets a determined look on his face and yawns loudly, "I'm going to take a quick power nap. Be right back!" And without waiting for anyone to respond is gone and out of sight.
Bucky says in relief. He knew Steve would not take well to seeing the bruising he caused, even if it was accidental. He felt a grateful twinge at the kid's understanding and readiness to put Steve at ease.
He watches his friend, barely humming as he makes breakfast and feels a sense of relief that reliving their nightmare hadn't seemed to knock him off his mantle.
But his eyes flit to Wanda who is sitting on the edge of her stool. She hasn't been further than 10ft from Steve since she learned what happened. Her loss of control, and ability to put Steve's memories into their minds was a bit of a frightening turn. But… he knew she cared because it was radiating off her like steam.
"Wanda." Steve said in gentle amusement, not turning from the stove. "You're hovering."
She huffs at him and takes one step back. Steve laughs and they continue their meal.
—-