A/N- *Your comments literally had me HOWLING. I was squealing so hard as I read them, I loved them, thank you thank you! ENJOY this HUGE monster of a chapter. If you dare…..
—-
His phone is ringing. It's ringing and he needs to answer it.
It's his dad's ringtone.
His dad is calling.
Probably wondering why he withdrew 50 thousand dollars.
Probably wondering what the hell is going on.
But he's staring at Clint who's having a breakdown on the asphalt next to Bucky who's staring at the brick wall like there's something to see.
He's frozen like they're frozen and he can't remember how to move.
The ringing stops.
He should have answered that.
It's not a minute later when it starts ringing again.
He lets his thumb ghost over the answer button as he raises it to his ear.
"Tony?" His dad says, not waiting for him. "Tony, where are you? Are you okay? Why did I just get a notification of a small withdrawal? Are you okay?"
"Dad?" He croaks out. It's the only word his brain can remember at the moment. But it must be meaningful or he must sound as broken as he feels because he hears his dad suck in a breath.
"Tony? Tony, where are you, did you find him?" When Tony doesn't have the brain capacity to answer, he hears the engine on his dad's car kick on and a rev on the other side. "I'm going to track your location. Stay there. Stay on the line."
And for the second time, the first being his unexpected hug from Peter, he feels an overwhelming sense of despair. "Dad." His voice cracks and is brittle and wobbly.
His dad's voice takes on a panicked quality. The amount of times he's seen his dad panic is zero. "I'm 7 minutes away from you, Tony. Breathe, I need you to breathe. I'm coming. I'm almost there. Are you breathing?"
Memories of his previous panic attacks come trickling through. His mom or dad always holding his shoulders and saying the same words. Breathe, Tony, breathe, you're okay.
But he's not okay. And he can't remember how to breathe.
—
Arms wrap around him, and he's being held. He can smell his dad's aftershave. Something he'd never thought of as comforting until this exact second.
"Dad." He chokes out.
"Tony, I'm here, what's happening. Talk to me."
But it's Bucky who turns towards them and his face is frozen in a look of misery. "He's dead. They killed him."
Tony feels his dad stiffen. "What? How do you know? Where is he? The brothers?"
"We paid them to tell us."
"The money?" His dad asks him. He nods miserably.
"Okay. Where is he then?" Something calm and businesslike falls over his dad and Tony's seen this before. When his dad doesn't have time to deal with his own feelings on the matter and stuffs them deep down. Sometimes never to be seen again. It's a trait Tony has found within himself sometimes.
"A dumpster." Clint whispers out. "They told us he's somewhere in a dumpster."
His dad's fingers tighten around his arms and he feels his throat constrict again.
"Did they say which dumpster? Or an area?" Clint's shoving his head into his hands while shaking his head 'no.'
"Okay." He's quiet for two seconds before he's pulling out his phone. "Get in the car. Tony, leave yours. I'll have Jarvis pick it up. We're going to the police station."
"We can't." Clint says weakly. "We promised the brothers we wouldn't tell. It was part of the deal we made to get information."
Howard's face is murderous, "you think that matters? You may have made that deal, but I did not. Either way we need to tell the police to start searching dumpsters. Trash goes out on Tuesday and it's already Monday morning—" he looks at his watch, Tony looks at it too, 2:11 a.m. "There's a million dumpsters in Brooklyn. We have a very limited time to find him—" Howard's voice cuts off, and he clears his throat. "Call and text everybody. We need all eyes searching."
Bucky and Clint pull out their phones and look at each other at the same time, the same thought coming to the forefront.
"Natasha." They both croak out at the same time.
—-
Natasha wakes and answers the phone on the first ring.
"Hey!" She says, hope coloring her sleep-filled voice, "any news?"
There's no answer. It's quiet on the other end of the line, but she can hear the sound of a car driving. She looks down at the screen. "Bucky? You there?"
"Nat." That one word sends a sickening jolt down her spine. No one but someone who is grieving sounds like that.
"No."
"They told us." Bucky's voice whispers.
"Told you what."
"Where to look—-" there's a pause and then Bucky's voice is cracking "— for his body."
Her mind halts. Her hands clench her phone and she feels her breathing elevating, getting harder to pull in air. Her brain gets lightheaded and she feels herself sink off her bed and onto the floor. She must make some sort of sound because Yelena shifts and stretches awake.
"Natasha?" Yelena, sounding panicked, "Natasha! What's wrong! Are you okay? What's going on?"
She looks down at the phone in her hand. It's still on call. "Where." She croaks out, ignoring Yelena's questions.
"We're heading to the police station." Bucky says. Then the line goes dead and she's crying.
"Natasha!" Yelena is practically shrieking, "What is it! What's happened!?"
"I have to go." She sobs out, grabbing her shoes and keys and what the hell else does she need? Her mind is racing and sinking in molasses at the same time and she grabs a jacket and then she's staring at her room, unsure of what else to do.
"Natasha, what happened, what did he say? Did they find Steve? Talk to me!"
"I have to go." Natasha repeats over and over. "I have to go."
"Go where!" Yelena sounds desperate, "Is it Steve? Please, I'll go, I wanna help! Please!"
"What the hell is all this racket!"
They glance to the door to see their mom glaring at them in her pajamas.
"I have to go." Natasha says again.
"Go where?"
"To the police station."
"It's 2:30 in the morning. You're not going anywhere young lady."
"I'm going. I have to go."
She moves towards the door and her mom crosses her arms. "I said you're not going anywhere!"
"Please." Natasha pleads, "it's about my friend! He—"
"I don't care about your little 'friends'. They've been causing you to act out lately and I don't like it. You won't be seeing them again. That's for sure."
Natasha's blood boiled, "YOU CAN'T STOP ME!" She shouts, "I'm leaving. You can't stop me. I'm going."
"Listen here, young lady! If you do not get back into bed there are going to be major consequences!"
"Oh, yeah?" Natasha snaps back, "like what?!" She steps closer, right in front of her adopted mom, angry and crying, "you already have taken everything from us! You make us think we have to work— to earn even the food and the bed you let us use! What else can you possibly take from u—"
She's cut off as the slap her mother delivers to her face throws her head back.
"That will teach you to speak to me that way you little bitch! You're an ungrateful spiteful little girl and you're lucky we let you live here!"
A gleeful sort of disbelief settles over Natasha. She's watched Steve live through this. She won't subject Yelena or herself to the same.
She turns towards Yelena. "Pack a bag. Anything you think you absolutely need."
She turns and grabs her backpack, dumping out the contents and grabbing necessities.
"Wha—-" her mother stutters, "What are you doing? Get into bed! What are you doing!?"
She's not listening, grabbing things: her wallet. A change of clothes. Charger. And a few other things she might need, stuffing them and zipping up her bag.
"We're leaving." Natasha says clinically, shoving her feet into her shoes. "We're leaving and we're not coming back. We are never coming back to live in this house."
"Why, you little bitch! What are you going to do, huh? Be homeless?! Fine! See how that works out for you two! You'll be back! You ungrateful little—-"
Natasha glares at her and jabs a finger at her. "You don't even know who you're dealing with." She says deadly calm, shutting her mother up, "we're leaving."
She grabs Yelena's hand and yanks it, dragging the girl with her as they shove past their mom who is now screaming at them, yelling obscenities and things she stores away in her head to remember for later when she knows she'll be required to repeat them to get her and Yelena released from their custody.
It's somehow a welcome distraction from the fact that they're on their way to learn that Steve is not going to get to come home.
—-
The police take their insight without question and send out the info to all units on patrol.
"Probably why the dogs didn't help." The policeman says softly, "trash can really muddle a smell."
They nod.
—
Bucky tells his parents what they know and he can hear his mom crying in the background. He's still crying too. They promise to update anyone who is helping search.
—
Tony and his dad start crossing off ones they've checked. Checking with the city to get an official list of dumpsters in the area that are large enough to hold…
A 90lb kid.
Not a big requirement.
—
Clint calls his step-mom and when she answers, he finds he can't say anything.
"Clint?" He can't speak. He just stands there, on the sidewalk, numbly. "Clint? Clint, I can't hear you, are you okay?"
"No."
It doesn't take her long to figure out what he means. "Oh no, oh baby, I'm so sorry! Where are you, I'll come pick you up."
"No." He rasps, "No we haven't found him— it… yet." His voice cracks and he's crying again.
"Oh honey, you… you should come home, let the police do their work now, okay?"
"No, I have to help find him. I have to."
There's a pause where he can hear that she wants to fight him, but she just sighs, "okay, call me if you need me. You're still at the station?"
"I'm right outside. I'm waiting for Natasha."
"Okay. Don't go anywhere alone."
"I won't."
—
He calls his Uncle Ricky then.
"Hey, Clint." His voice is groggy, and Clint realizes it's not even 4a.m. yet.
"Hey, Uncle Ricky."
"What's up?"
"We're checking dumpsters."
He hears a pause. "You're…. What?"
"The Fleming brothers. They told us to check dumpsters. Can you spread the word to everyone you have searching?"
"Sorry, bud, hold up, my brain is still waking up, you're searching dumpsters…"
"For Steve's body."
"Body?" That seems to jolt his uncle awake.
"The brothers said they put him in a dumpster." Clint repeats again.
His uncle makes a noise, a half gasp-half cough of disbelief.
"Reynolds." His uncle chokes out.
"Huh?"
"Have you checked Reynolds?"
Clint's brain starts to whir, to wake up, adrenaline starting to course through it, "What? No, not yet, that's a few grid-searches away."
He can hear his uncle stumbling out of bed, "she called." He says in a huff, "she called Sunday, saying someone had put heavy trash bags on her lids and she couldn't get them open, she wanted help!" He hears his uncle curse as he must bump onto something, "I wasn't able to get over there yesterday, it's him. It has to be him!"
Clint's not even thinking. He takes off.
"Clint!' He hears Bucky call, "Clint!" But he doesn't stop.
Soon he hears footfalls behind him and he knows Bucky's following him.
—
Bucky's breathless, chest heaving and side cramping as he rounds the corner. Clint is barely a step ahead of him when he stops in front of a store front and takes in a few breaths.
"Clint, wha—" but then Bucky's eyes catch on the name.
Reynold's Market
Bucky feels his breathing cease. No.
Clint's running again, just a few steps down and around a corner to an alley where a large dumpster sits against the store wall.
Bucky follows and it feels in slow motion as he watches Clint step on the bottom edge of the dumpster and try to reach the black bags that are shoved back, obstructing the lid from opening.
"HELP ME DAMMIT!" Clint shouts, glaring at Bucky.
Bucky spurs into action and takes a step back, taking a running leap and grasping the top ledge, using his momentum to get his chest over the edge. The metal digs into his ribs but he ignores the discomfort. Clint catches on and copies him.
They haul themselves over the edge, crunching on the plastic lid.
Bucky feels his phone buzzing but he ignores it, grasping heavy bags and dragging them to the edge of the dumpster, shoving them over. They thud against the asphalt, and he hears glass breaking.
Clint and he repeat this process, removing the 5 heavy bags of trash. Bucky hears Clint's phone ring. It goes ignored.
They stand on one side, and lift the lid on the opposite end. The smell hits them and they gag, but it does nothing to deter them. Bucky steps down first, sinking a bit between the bags before landing on a cardboard box. Clint steps into it, throwing the other lid open in the process.
"He's in here." Bucky says, willing it to be true. "He's here."
"Start digging." Clint orders.
—-
Each bag they lift and remove is thrown out over the edge. They're 4 bags in and there's probably 60+ total in the huge dumpster.
They work methodically, lifting a bag, feeling the outside of it, or ripping into it to check and then dumping it over the edge when they agree he's not inside.
—-
Every once and a while Bucky will look up to see Clint staring at a bag, eyes glazed and hands shaking.
He looks away and ignores the tremble in his own hands.
—
They're down to the last two layers of trash bags when Bucky stops. His throat closes up and the sound that escapes his lips is a strangled "look".
Clint looks up from his side of the dumpster and his eyes follow where Bucky's finger is pointing.
There, poking out of one of the trash bags, is a pair of familiar frames, the partially shattered glass reflecting the edges of the rising sun.
—-
He doesn't remember the choked sound he makes as he sinks to his knees, crawling towards and ripping trash bags away from the bag he knows— he knows is holding Steve.
Clint's beside him, shoving trash away and when it's cleared enough, they grab the bag and haul it onto their laps.
The glasses poke out of a hole about the size of a small fist. Bucky's fingers hesitate as he looks up at Clint. Both of them look at each other. Not ready for what they're about to find.
"Open it." Clint practically howls, "we need to take him home. He deserves to be buried like a human being."
Bucky feels his chest get tight as he gently begins ripping the black trash bag with his fingers.
The glasses sink back into the bag and suddenly he's there. In their arms.
Steve's face is swollen and bruised. Yellows, greens, blues, and purples are painted across his nose, cheeks, eyes and jaw. There are cuts where they can guess the glass from his glasses had cut into him while being punched. His eyes are closed, one swollen shut and his mouth—
Bucky lets out a strangled growl at the edge of the sock hanging out of Steve's lips.
He gently pulls the gag out of Steve's mouth. It's heavier than he expects and he has to scrunch his eyes tight against the fury that rages through him when he realizes it's a dirty sock stuffed with gravel. It's bloody with some of the rocks poking through the material. He gently opens Steve's mouth. His teeth are coated in dried blood and cuts line his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
Clint heaves. He turns his face and heaves again. Bucky's suddenly glad Clint's stomach is empty or he might be heaving too. The smell of the trash is overwhelming but it's nothing compared to the sight of the body in his arms.
He has to take ten deep breaths before he can even open his eyes again. He gently pushes Steve's jaw until his mouth is closed.
Bucky's fingers ghost over Steve's hair, it's wet and bloody and matted against his forehead and he pushes it back with shaking fingers. Clint turns back to face them and begins ripping the rest of the bag away from Steve's body. They finally get the trash bag all the way off him. Clint makes a furious growling at the sight of Steve's limbs pulled tightly behind him, secured with zip ties. Steve's wrists and ankles are covered in dried and sticky blood. Obvious signs that he'd struggled to get free.
"Cut him free." Bucky orders. Steve's skin is cold and thin beneath his fingers.
"With what?" Clint snaps back.
"I don't care! FIND SOMETHING."
Clint searches, carefully tearing through bags until he finds a broken bottle. Carefully, he uses the sharp edge to slice the zip tie. Steve's limbs fall limp, his clothes are damp and pressed against his body. Bucky shifts, adjusting so he's holding Steve like he would a baby, shoulders and head supported by his left arm and elbow.
Something sticky touches his arm and he gently lifts Steve's head, choking at the deep bloody gash that he finds along the base of Steve's skull.
He rests Steve's head against his elbow again and tips his own head back, trying not to let the strangled cry he has building up in his throat out. He scrunches his eyes closed and holds Steve against him tighter. He can feel something on Steve's back too, bumps, like raised skin. He doesn't know and it doesn't matter. He clutches Steve's dead body tighter against him.
Clint's fumbling his phone out of his pocket. He drops it by accident, slipping through his slimy, damp, and trash covered fingers. It slides through the trash bags and disappears. They hear it thunk on the metal, two layers of trash bags beneath them.
"We need to call this in." Clint says numbly. "We need to call Tony."
"Back pocket." Bucky says hoarsely staring at Steve's broken face.
He feels his phone slip out of his pocket and listens as Clint dials a number.
He can hear Tony yelling on the other line. "Where the hell have you guys been! We've been worried sick! You haven't been answering your phones and—"
"Tony." Clint whispers, his eyes trained on Steve's face. Tony's tirade dies immediately. "We found him. Reynold's Market." Clint just hangs up, dropping it on a trash bag and gathering Steve's legs onto his lap.
Clint's voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. "What are we going to tell the other kids?"
Bucky rests his right hand onto Steve's chest. Peter's face comes to the forefront of his mind. "I don't know." He tries to hold in the sob, his eyelids feel like bricks. Heavy and tired from the lack of sleep and all the crying he's been doing. His fingertips and palm press deeper against Steve's frail chest. "I don't know, I—"
He stops.
What.
What was that?
He holds his breath.
"Bucky?"
"SHUT UP." Bucky hisses. His whole body electrifies, hands and arms and body shaking. He rests his hand firmly against Steve's chest again, fingers and palm pressing against his shirt and skin beneath it. He literally shouts in surprise and lets out a ragged gasp. "His heart!" He hears himself choke out, "It's beating! I can feel it!"
Clint's instantly stumbling over the bags to kneel across from Bucky on Steve's other side. He's shoving Bucky's hand away, laying an ear against Steve's chest and listening. He sucks in a breath and wide eyes find Bucky's. Clint's fingers press firmly under Steve's jaw.
"He has a pulse!" His voice cracks heavily and he's crying again. And Bucky's eyes screw up and he knows that he's crying too.
—
Tony curses. He'd been in the police station with his dad and when he'd come outside, Bucky and Clint had disappeared. He'd called them both multiple times. No answer. He'd been about to track them when his phone died. "SHIT!"
He'd run to his dad's car and plugged it in.
Natasha (and to his surprise, Yelena) had found him there and he angrily relayed that they'd disappeared. Then his shoulders had sagged and he'd told her the story about their encounter with the brothers. Yelena was crying and so was Natasha. She was asking questions he didn't really have the answer to.
His phone dings back on and he picks it up. He clicks through and goes to the tracking software when his phone rings. He looks down and it's Bucky.
He's suddenly furious at them for leaving without saying anything. He clicks answer and begins yelling. "Where the hell have you guys been! We've been worried sick! You haven't been answering your phones and—"
"Tony."
The voice that whispers his name is Clint's. Why is he calling from Bucky's phone? Oh no… The way his voice sounds— "We found him. Reynold's Market."
The line goes dead and Tony's worst fears are confirmed. He looks over the shoulder of the seat at Natasha and Yelena who are clutching each other's hands tightly in the back of the car.
"They found him." he manages to say, "Reynold's Market."
Natasha's eyes snap closed and Yelena is shoving her head against Natasha's chest.
He stumbles out of the car and goes inside where his dad is still talking with the police officer.
"Dad."
His dad whips around and looks at him, he must look terrible because his dad strides forward, holding his shoulders, "what? What is it?"
"They found him." He whispers. "They found him in the dumpster at Reynold's Market."
His dad's face goes blank. Eyes going flat even as his fingers dig into Tony's shoulders. "Who did?"
"Bucky and Clint."
His dad turns back to the desk. "My son says they found Steve's body at Reynold's Market, in the dumpster there."
The police officer picks up his phone immediately. "We'll send units over there right away. If you get there before us, don't touch anything. It's a crime scene."
His dad nods and hauls Tony out the front door.
—-
The drive is silent except for the sniffles coming from the back seat.
—
The car slows to a stop in front of the market. Still early enough that it hasn't opened yet.
"Yelena. Stay in the car." Natasha orders. The girl just nods.
Tony peels himself out of the front seat and slams the door behind him. Natasha's hand slips into his and he listens as her breathing is ragged.
"I'm not ready." She whispers.
Tony doesn't have anything to say to that. His dad appears beside him and they stare at the storefront. "You guys can stay here." His dad says softly. "You don't need to see this."
"Bucky and Clint found his dead body." Tony snaps, but there's no real heat in it, just desperation and misery. "I'm not waiting back here just because you think—"
"Tony." His dad says sharply. Cutting him off.
"I'm helping."
"Okay. Natasha?"
"I'm not waiting back here."
"Okay. Let's go."
—-
They step into the alley and walk a few feet around a corner before the enormous pile of trash bags appears. A mountain of them, half torn open and their contents littering the ground.
They hear soft talking. "Bucky?" Natasha calls her voice anxious, "Clint?"
"Natasha?" A surprised voice calls back, "Natasha, is that you!?"
"Yeah, wh—"
"He's alive! Get help! Call Tony! Call an Ambulance!" It's Bucky's voice and it's almost hysterical.
The response is immediate, his dad freezes, eyes lighting ablaze and phone in his hand in an instant.
"I need an ambulance! Reynold's Market! NOW!" His dad hangs up and Tony doesn't waste a second before he is hauling himself up, peering over the high edge of the metal dumpster.
Bucky is kneeling, his back to Tony, Steve's body clutched tightly in his arms. Clint is looking up at him, eyes wide and in shock. They're both covered in grime and trash.
"He's alive?" He croaks out.
Bucky's head cranes to face him and a red eyed but joyous face greets his, "yes! He has a pulse! Should we move him? We weren't sure, are you supposed to move an injured person? We'd already moved him when we first found him, we didn't know to be careful, we thought he was dead an—"
"Barnes!" Tony shouts, cutting off the exhausted ramble. "Just stay where you are. The ambulance is on their way and they'll know what to do."
"Sam!" He hears his dad say behind him, his voice a little rattled but relieved, "We found him, no, no— he's alive! Yes, he's—- No, I don't know yet, the ambulance is on the way—- Yes, yes, I'll tell you where they take him. I will— I will. Okay. Bye."
Tony doesn't even notice until Natasha is already sliding down the inside of the dumpster, joining the three in there. She's delicate, not disturbing anything, moving with cat-like grace until she's kneeling on Bucky's left, behind Steve's head.
"Is he conscious?" She asks.
"No, no, he hasn't been conscious at all, but his heartbeat is there. And his breathing—" Clint places a hand outside of Steve's mouth, "—it's weak but it's there and it's been constant too, we've been checking."
Her hands hover over Steve's face. "Don't you dare scare us like that again, Steve." She snarls, her face mottled from crying but clear relief on her face, "you are in so much trouble when you wake up."
Tony huffs and drags himself over. He's much less graceful than Natasha was, but he manages to get settled by Steve's feet. He looks at Steve, taking in the whole picture. His skin is tinged blue and he looks like a corpse, but… he's alive. Alive.
"Never thought I'd be glad to sit in a dumpster waiting for an ambulance." Tony says, his voice aiming for levity and missing just slightly. Bucky lets out a slightly hysterical chuckle and Clint holds his arms out.
"Your arms must be tired, you need me to take him?" Bucky's arms tighten around Steve and the glare he shoots Clint has the guy recoiling and holding up his hands in surrender.
"Okay, you've got him. No problem."
"What are these?" Tony asks, pointing to the bloody marks on Steve's ankles.
"When we pulled him out of the trash bag, his wrists and ankles were zip tied. Those marks are from him struggling to get free."
"WHAT." Tony shouts.
"You pulled him out of a trash bag?" Natasha seethes.
Bucky nods, gently lifting up Steve's head and showing Natasha the bloody gash. "He could have other stuff but we don't know. Once we found out he was alive we stopped moving him."
All four of them stare at each other. No one says anything. They hear the ambulance pull in shortly after and they all sag in relief.
—-
The ride to the hospital is silent.
—-
Steve's rushed into surgery for the gash on his head and the hours in the waiting room are both terrible and everything they could hope for. A chance. A chance that he's okay.
Sam arrives and sits next to Clint, foot bouncing in impatience.
His eyes are tired and red from the last couple days, but he has a relieved expression that matches their own.
"Did you tell the kids?"
He grimaces, "not yet. I'm waiting to hear what condition Steve's in before I do that."
Clint nods. It makes sense.
"I heard you and Bucky were the ones who found him." Clint nods numbly. The memory of ripping the trash bag away from Steve's body fresh in his mind.
Sam's hand finds his shoulder. "That would be pretty traumatizing. Finding Steve like that… If you ever need someone to talk to about this whole experience, and the brothers and…" he looks at Clint, "your mom. Let me know. I'm happy to help, or if you want someone you know a bit less, I have connections."
Clint doesn't know what to say, but he knows Sam's trying to help. "Thanks. I'll remember that."
Sam nods and they fall into companionable silence.
—
Natasha walks over and sits next to Sam. She fidgets nervously and he looks at her with an eyebrow raised.
"Um, Mr. Wilson?"
"Sam."
"Right, Sam. Uh…" She glances over at Yelena who is asleep, laying vertically, head in Bucky's lap and feet on Tony's. "I was wondering. What would I have to do to have Yelena and myself be placed in the house under your care?"
Sam's eyes widen, but he looks at her seriously, "why would you want to move in?"
She sighs, her eyes find Clint's and even though she hasn't exactly told him, he's been pretty perceptive about her home situation. "Our adoptive mother is pretty abusive. Just a few hours before Steve was found she slapped me." Sam's mouth is parting in surprise but Natasha doesn't stop. "She's been mostly emotionally and verbally abusive, and it affects Yelena a lot." Clint frowns at her, "and me. It affects me too." She takes a deep breath. "I don't think I would have had the courage to say anything or think I can change my situation, but…" she glances at Tony who's barely keeping his eyes open as he works on his phone. "I've realized with the right people around to support me, I can do anything. I watched what Steve went through. I can't do that to Yelena. I won't."
Sam blinks at her, "well, obviously there's some legal stuff involved if you guys are in her adoptive custody, but I'll never turn down anyone who needs my help. I'll start looking into it after Steve is settled."
Natasha smiles, relief crossing her face and she slips over to the chair beside Bucky, resting her head on his shoulder.
—-
The doctor comes back a few hours later and motions to Sam. Sam stands up and follows the doctor.
Oh no. No way.
Bucky gently slides Yelena's head off his leg and walks to where Sam and the doctor are beginning to talk.
The doctor looks surprised at the arrival and looks at Sam, unsure.
"Don't look at me, Doc. This is one of the kids who found and probably saved Steve's life. He's welcome to hear what you have to say."
Bucky feels more bodies crowd behind him. He turns to see Clint, Natasha, Howard, and Tony standing there, listening.
Sam looks at the doctor, waiting, "we're all ears doc."
"Well," the doctor begins, looking at his clipboard, "he's out of surgery, and so far is in stable condition. I won't lie. He has quite the road of recovery ahead of him, but I think when all is said and done, he should be able to regain full walking motion."
They stare at him. But Clint is the first to speak, "huh?"
The doctor eyes them curiously, "what have you been informed about the condition he was found in?"
"Nothing." Sam says with slight annoyance. "We got here and he was put into surgery and we haven't heard anything at all!"
The doctor sighs, "I apologize, we've been short staffed, I thought one of the nurses briefed you. Would you like me to go over all of our findings?"
Bucky doesn't like the words 'all of our findings' but the group is nodding.
"Well, Steven had quite the gash on the back of his skull. Thankfully, the brick that was used only cracked the bone and didn't do any damage to his brain or spine."
Howard's voice is low, "he was hit with a brick?"
The doctor nods, his lips pursed.
"How do you know?"
"The brick dust made it quite easy to decipher."
"Oh."
The doctor continues, "his right collarbone is cracked, and his wrists and ankles have relatively deep lacerations from the restraints, but his shoulder has been set and casted, and the cuts have been disinfected and bandaged. The orbital socket on his left side is cracked along his cheekbone and his nose is also broken. The swelling will take some time to go down and we can assess his senses better once he's awake. The injury that concerns me for his future mobility is his cracked hip bone. But, like I said earlier, I believe he should make a complete recovery in that aspect."
The group sags a bit in relief. "What about his mouth?" Bucky whispers, suddenly realizing he and Clint hadn't told anyone about the gag.
The doctor looks at him, and he can see the sadness in the doctor's eyes. "Those cuts were cleaned, but truthfully the mouth heals on its own. Not much we can do for now. He'll be on liquids for a few days."
"Mouth?" Natasha asks him.
"Later." He says dully.
"I had someone pull up his medical records." The doctor says, flipping through some papers on his clipboard. "Quite the extensive list of allergies and ailments until he was about 9, and I have no records after that, care to explain the gap?"
Sam nods, "his mother died around that time and he was placed into a government home. Neglect, as you can see by the absence of treatment, is the reason for the drop off in appointments."
The doctor nods in response, "okay, that explains it, and he's been removed from this house?"
"No," Sam says, correcting him, "I've taken over, I took over just a day before Steve went missing."
"Okay, so then you haven't seen his medical files?"
"No, not yet,"
The doctor's lips purse, and he glances at the group, "I think we should speak in private."
Before any of the kids have a chance to protest, Howard's voice cuts through, "you can speak right here. I'll be covering any and all of Steve's medical expenses."
The doctor hesitates, looking at Sam who nods that it's okay, before giving in. "You should be aware of Steve's severe heart condition."
Natasha's hand is suddenly in his and he's squeezing it back as hard as she's squeezing his.
"Heart condition?" Tony asks.
"Yes, in surgery we noticed an abnormal rhythm on the heart monitor, and that caught our attention. That's another reason we pulled his records. It says that he was diagnosed with it when he was around 4 years old. He really should have been seeing a specialist and getting it checked all these years.." his voice trails off and a pained expression sits on his face.
"I'm feeling like there's more you're not telling me, doc." Sam says flatly.
"Honestly… I'm surprised his heart lasted as long as it did under the stress it experienced in the last 5 days, along with the amount of blood loss." He tries to smile, "it's a stubborn kid you have here." He opens his mouth and his eyes glance at the kids again. "This particular heart condition… it…"
His eyes keep glancing at them and Bucky watches as Howard's fingers are clenched onto Tony's shoulders as he stands behind him. Natasha's hand is still gripped in his.
"The length and quality of life for someone with this condition is well below the average." The doctor says in a rush, "I'm very sorry."
No one responds.
The doctor looks incredibly uncomfortable.
"you're saying…." Sam says finally, his eyes tight.
The doctor clears his throat. "We need to do more testing. This condition on its own puts a lot of stress on the body, but in conjunction with his other ailments and the stress his heart was under this last week?" The doctor's face is pinched, "I would expect that him reaching 30-35 is being generous."
He can't feel his hand anymore. It's numb from Natasha's grip.
What?
No.
Not possible.
"You're telling me." Howards voice says, "that we're living in the 21st century, and there's nothing that can be done about this?"
The doctor looks at him a bit helplessly, "I'm sorry, sir. There are surgeries he can look into, or a heart transplant when it starts to fail, but those are incredibly invasive and have long bouts of recovery times. There aren't many optio—"
"Bullshit." Howard snaps, "no. Unacceptable." He's walking away, his phone at his ear.
Sam looks a bit shocked but Tony just sighs. "Sorry about him. He doesn't like the answer 'no'."
Sam's voice is a bit tough as he looks at the doctor. "Anything else?"
"Well," the doctor says, his face now weary, "we should talk about the skin on his back… It was done very roughly, and cut deep, so scarring is very likely—"
"His back?" Bucky can sense the shift. Not a single one of them know what he's talking about. Cuts? Scarring?
The doctor looks up at Sam, "Yes, the wor—-" the doctor pauses, his eyes wide, "did you not—" his expression grows dark, "oh no, I'm so sorry. I assumed it had been discovered when he was initially found."
"What." Tony hisses through gritted teeth, "What is on his back?"
The grimace the doctor gives them chills their blood. "On his back… are two words…" he says slowly, as if each word pains him, "Carved into his skin…"
The air freezes around them, not a single one of them breathes as the doctor looks at them with a pained expression as he says the two words carved roughly onto Steve's back.
Traitor - carved from shoulder to shoulder
Snitch - carved sideways on the left side of his spine, vertically along his ribs.
—
Nothing processes through Clint's mind after that. The doctor keeps speaking. But he can't seem to hear any other words than the one's he'd just spoken.
Traitor.
Snitch.
Clint looks over at Bucky who sits, pale as a ghost beside him. Then he looks at Tony, whose eyes are blank and fingers are wrapped tightly around his phone, then Natasha, who's grip on Yelena's hand has to be painful even though the blonde girl says nothing.
And they're all thinking it.
Forever.
Steve will live with those words carved on his back.
Forever.
Traitor.
Snitch.
—-
The doctor says that Steve should wake up soon and that when he's been cleared they're welcome to wait in his room.
—
Steve's head throbs something fierce.
It's the thing that pulls him from the quiet darkness of unconsciousness, to the slightly gray area of semi-conscious.
Then eventually, he hears voices and wonders if he's still in the dumpster.
Or maybe he's been found?
Or maybe he's dead.
His head throbs again and he groans.
The voices cease and it's puzzling to Steve's brain.
—-
Eventually he's able to drag his eyes— wait no— make that eye open. It feels like he's dragging it across sandpaper but he manages to blink it open.
He immediately recognizes that he's in a hospital room. He's been in plenty of those with his mom. He looks and sees Bucky, in a chair by his bed, head kinked to the side, asleep. Natasha and Clint are both sitting on a large window seat, their feet meeting in the middle. It looks like they're talking about something serious.
Tony's in a chair across from Steve's bed, phone twirling in his hands with his eyes closed.
He doesn't say anything yet. Not even sure he can speak. His mouth hurts, and his throat feels like the Sahara. So he just looks at them. Bucky's clothes look grimy and gross… so do Clint's.
His head may be a throbbing mess, but even with that minor detail he can guess who found him.
All four of their faces are rather sunken and dark around the eyes. Like they haven't slept much. He feels his brow pucker at the thought. They look tired and worn out. He doesn't like that, so he thinks of something to say, something to take those looks off their faces.
His voice is barely a croak but he manages to ask, "we win?"
He watches as four pairs of eyes meet his.
Then there's silence. A filled and charged silence that makes Steve's chest constrict. He swallows, trying to get some saliva to moisten his throat before he speaks again, "you guys okay?"
A disbelieving scoff is all he hears before Bucky's face is suddenly in his, angry and accusing, "what the hell were you thinking Steve! You could have just walked with me to school and then told me to wait in the auditorium for you to get your surprise! We told you not to walk anywhere alone! We told you! You could have—"
"Bucky." Natasha says, grasping his shoulder and pulling him back.
"No! Steve, I had to pull your body out of a trash bag. I thought— we— you can't just—-" Bucky's furious at him, he can see it and it constricts his chest and makes his heart rate rise. The heart monitor starts to beep and Natasha's suddenly pushing Bucky back.
"Bucky!" She admonishes, "Stop."
The beeping makes Bucky's mouth clamp shut, but the angry expression stays.
Guilt wells up in Steve's chest. "Sorry, Buck." He whispers.
Bucky's expression crumbles and he sinks down back into the chair he was just in. "Don't apologize." He rasps out, "please don't." Bucky's hand reaches out and rests gently on Steve's forearm. "I'm sorry for yelling. We were all—" Steve watches as they share a weighted glance, "we were all really worried."
Now that they're closer, he can inspect them better. Clint and Bucky both have bruises on their faces and are moving a bit stiffly. All of their eyes seem a bit red and puffy, but also dark circles and tired. Natasha's hair is falling out of her braid, and Tony's is sticking up on its end. Their clothes are all rumbled, and now that they're close he can smell them.
"You guys look like crap." He says, trying for a smile.
Tony snorts. "Look who's talking."
Steve winces, "Yikes, that bad?" The humor is gone as they stare at him. He tries to move his dominant hand and finds that he can't. He peers down with his one open eye and sees the cast. He huffs and lifts his left hand, gently prodding his own face, feeling the swelling and the bandages. "Can I get a mirror?"
"No." Natasha says quickly. "Let's not."
"You really had us worried there," Clint says, speaking for the first time, his voice is raw and rough, like he's been screaming for too long.
"Sorry." Steve whispers, then he pauses, looking out at the sun streaming in the window. "What day is it?"
Another silence.
"Guys."
"How long do you remember being in the dumpster?" He can see just asking the question pains Bucky.
He closes his eye, leaning his head back against the pillow, "I remember a good chunk of time, but it's not like I could keep track, except by the sounds of the street. It felt like a day, at least…" No one speaks. The coiling dread reappears. "More than a day?"
"It's Tuesday, Steve. We found you Monday morning."
"Tues—" his voice chokes off, "Peter!" He says frantically, "are they all okay?"
Tony's nodding. "Yes, they're fine, they're all fine and they've been told that you've been found, and that you'll be okay."
"Sam knows?"
"Yeah, yeah, Sam knows. He said to tell you he's sorry he can't be here. He'll be over the second Sarah can watch the kids at the house."
Steve sinks back against the pillow, relieved that everyone else is okay. "Okay, he huffs. "That's good. I'm glad they're okay."
There's more quiet before Bucky shifts, scooting his chair closer.
"I wanna know what happened." He says tensely.
Steve grimaces, shifting in his bed when his back sends sharp pains, he gasps out loud and then winces. Breathing heavy. "Ow, ow, ow." He lets out with gritted teeth.
"What! What is it?"
It only takes a minute for Steve to remember. The cold abandoned warehouse floor he'd been shoved against and held down as they took their turns carving into him.
"Nothing." He rasps out. They didn't need to know about that. "Just my head. It throbs."
Not technically a lie.
The shooting pain dulls and he tries to slow his breathing. Eventually he feels exhausted and his eye blinks closed. "Can I—" he says weakly, "can I tell you later? I'm tired…"
He doesn't even remember if they answered.
—
Visitors come and go. His uncle Ricky stops by, bringing sandwiches and drinks while Steve is still asleep. Clint watches the look on his uncle's face at the sight of Steve and the pure disbelief and then fury that crosses it is a sentiment Clint can agree with.
Bucky's parents and little sister stop by. They don't come in the room except his mom, who immediately tears up at the sight. Steve's still asleep and she leaves a small bag of necessities for him when he wakes up.
Clint notices that Natasha's phone buzzes constantly throughout the day. Natasha ignores it.
—-
The next time Steve wakes up, he's able to open one eye fully, and the second eye almost halfway. He immediately spots Sam who is sitting on his right hand side in a chair. He feels a sense of gratitude that Sam's on the side that Steve can hear on. He furrows his brow at the sound of something else. Music. He searches until he sees a little speaker, playing music very softly.
"You call that music?" He rasps out, his throat still dry.
Sam's eyes flash towards him and a smile crosses his face, "hey, Steve, good to see those blue eyes, how you feelin' man?" Sam hands him a cup of water with a straw that he drinks from readily. After he's done he lays back.
"Been better, Been worse."
Sam's eyebrows raise, "you've been laid low worse than this?"
"Pneumonia's a real kick in the pants."
Sam laughs, and Steve feels the corner of his mouth turn up at the sound.
—-
Steve's finally allowed a mirror on Friday morning. Bucky winces as he lets out a strained chuckle at the sight. "I mean, I wasn't a looker before, so not much difference there." Steve says self-deprecatingly.
"Shut up, Steve." Natasha snaps.
Steve just laughs, but Bucky doesn't miss that he sets the mirror glass side down.
—-
He's leaning forward, getting the bandages on his back changed when Bucky walks in.
"Oh." Bucky says, seeing the nurse, "sorry, I didn't— Sorry." He's about to leave when the nurse waves her hand.
"I'm almost done here, you can stay if Steve doesn't mind.
Steve feels his cheeks redden, "maybe come back in a few minutes, okay?"
Bucky nods disappearing back out the door.
—
It's Tuesday again. One week since they'd found him. Sam has officially started the process of inquiry on them moving into the house. She and Yelena have been staying at Tony's while he figures things out. They've already contacted the police and CPS. Her adoptive mother keeps trying to call her. She ignores it everytime.
School starts in a month. It comes as no surprise that Clint begs his step-mom to transfer to Brooklyn High. She says yes, and now the four of them will be going to high school together. What an absolute rollercoaster this summer has been. Tony huffs about being left out, they just laugh.
—-
They still haven't gotten Steve to tell them the story yet. They've only asked twice, and both times he's avoided it. They're not going to push. Yet.
Natasha overhears Tony and Howard talking about what to do about the Fleming brothers. She leaves before she hears what they decide.
Yelena is a god-send. She is able to lighten the mood almost instantly with her silly or sarcastic remarks, and she is endlessly patient when teaching Steve how to play new card games that he can do one-handedly. Natasha walks back from the vending machine to see Tony, Yelena, Howard, and Steve in an argument about some rule and it makes her smile.
—
Bucky watches as Steve eats solid food again for the first time. Steve smiles and sighs contentedly.
—
Clint watches as Tony blows through the hospital door packages in hand.
"Alright, open up." He commands Steve, setting them on the little hospital table that overhangs the bed.
Steve grasps one, struggling to open it one-handedly, before Tony sighs and helps him. Steve looks at the new pair of glasses. He frowns. "I'm sorry about the other ones, Tony. But they saved my life, you know."
Tony grows still, "they did?"
Steve's nodding, his eyes on the frames in his hands, "when they punched them and they shattered, I was worried about glass in my eye, but then, when they—" he pauses, searching for the right word, "put me in that trash bag, it got hard to breathe real quick. Once I was in the dumpster and struggling, I started to panic, making it even harder to breathe, but the broken glass caught the material of the bag and ripped a hole, giving me air." He smiles. Smiles as if that makes everything he just said better. As if that's the moral of the story.
Tony's smile is pained, "that's good, kid. I'm glad."
Steve slips the glasses on his face, the thickness of the lenses magnifying his eyes and the healing bruises around them. "It's nice to see these colors again."
Tony snaps to, "yeah yeah, okay, on to the next one, and I promise this one is recording device free."
Steve opens the smaller box by himself and pulls out a new hearing aid. He switches it on and places it into his ear. "Thanks Tony, you really didn't have too."
"I really did, Steve. I really did."
—
"He's begging to see you." Sam says softly.
"I wanna see him too." Steve huffs, "I miss all of them."
"You want me to bring them?"
Steve pauses, "you think it's okay for them to see me like this?"
Sam's answer is said in a diplomatic tone, "maybe a few more days, then I'll bring a few in at a time."
"Okay." Steve concedes.
—
"Steve?"
Clint watches as Steve blinks back from whatever train of thought he was having, "yeah?"
"Can you tell us now?"
—-
"Can you tell us now?"
He sighs. Looking at Bucky. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
He gets a resounding 'no' from everyone in the room.
He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and starts, talking quickly so he can get it over faster.
"I wasn't even two blocks from my house when they approached me. They dragged me down an alley and beat me up, that's where most of my—" he gestures at his face, "—came from. That's when my glasses shattered." He pauses, then sighs, "I remember thinking it was just another normal run in. Until I felt the brick to the back of my skull." The group winces, but Steve doesn't see because his eyes are still closed. "I woke up at one of the abandoned warehouses and they had zip tied by wrists and ankles. I tried to get free of those but eventually they cut deep enough I couldn't;t really do anything. Another few rounds of beatings and multiple rounds of them complaining that I 'ruined their lives' happened there. When they tied me up into the trash bag, I—" his voice cracks and he pauses, "I really wasn't sure what to do. They slammed my head against something to knock me out. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a dumpster, I couldn't call out because of the gag, and I had to stay calm and breathe slowly since it was a small hole and I could only use my nose. I wriggled and fought, but they had buried me under other bags, I could tell by the weight—" Neither Bucky or Clint say anything about the dozens of bags they hauled out of the trash can to find him, "It was raining really heavily at one point. I don't know how but water seeped into the trash bag and it was really cold." He blinks, "then I slept for a while and when I woke up, it was so hot I felt like I was melting. I don't remember much after that, I'm pretty sure I passed out. And that's all—"
"No."
Steve looks up in surprise, "huh?"
"Don't leave it out."
Steve's stomach drops. "Leave what out?"
"Your back."
He shuts his eyes tightly, but that just makes the memory stronger. The metallic twinge of his own blood in the air, the agonizing pain of the knife as it carved letters in his back.
"If you know—" He rasps out.
"New rule." Tony pipes up, "Steve doesn't hide things from us, like injuries or threats or anything and in return, we don't make his life a living hell by hiring someone to watch his every move."
Steve feels his mouth drop open in scoff. He looks at them in disbelief but they all just stare back at him. Bucky even crosses his arms.
"Fine." He grinds out. He feels anger rise up and his eyes scrunch closed as he tries not to relive it. But the memory of being held down and helpless comes anyway and it gives his voice a rough and brittle quality as he describes it. "They knelt on me. They flipped me onto my stomach and knelt on me. One knee on my neck, and the other on my hips, and they took turns carving into my back, words that they hissed at me over and over and I screamed so loud that they shoved a sock full of gravel into my mouth." He huffs. "You happy?"
He doesn't get a response and he snaps his eyes open to yell at them that it's their own fault for making him tell them only to catch sight of Howard and Sam standing in the doorway, mouths parted in surprise and eyebrows pulled down in distress.
"They what?" He hears Howard ask.
The absolute shock on Howard's face tells him he didn't know about his back.
"What gag?" Sam asks, looking at the group.
He looks at his hands. Shame filling his chest and the room is silent as he can practically feel the waves of fury rolling off of Howard.
Steve swallows thickly, embarrassed about his outburst, "sorry," he whispers. But when he looks up, Howard is gone.
—-
"Why didn't I know about this?" Howard asks, looking at Bucky and Clint.
They stare up at him sadly and Bucky's voice is quiet, "I pulled the gag out of his mouth when I thought he was—-" he glances at Steve who he can see through the window in the door, his eyes closed. Dead, he mouths. "Once we figured he was going to be okay, I just…" He looks at Clint, "we just didn't mention it. And you left before the doctor talked about his back…"
Howard rubs at the bridge of his nose and then runs a finger over his mustache. "Okay. Okay." He places his hands on his hips, "what color was this sock?"
"White with a gray toe. Had gravel in it, and—" Bucky looks again at Steve through the window in the hospital door, "blood on it."
"I've gotta make a call." Howard says crisply, walking down the hallway.
They walk back into the room and Bucky watches as Sam leans against Steve's bed, "this beat pneumonia yet?"
Steve's voice is raw as he responds, still with his eyes closed, "it's getting close."
—-
Turns out the brothers are bigger idiots than they thought. Their DNA is all over the sock they found in his mouth.
Steve is assured that once they're caught, they're going to prison for a very, very long time.
Steve just nods numbly and asks about Rumlow. He's given a wince and a "we're working on that."
—
Steve's been in the hospital for two weeks when they finally let the other kids visit. Peter bursts through the door and launches himself onto his bed.
Pain erupts from his shoulder as Peter hugs him tightly, but he ignores it, wrapping his good around him and hugging him back just as fiercely.
"You were gone." Peter cries, his face against Steve's chest.
"I'm so sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't. I would never leave on purpose. I would never leave you—" his voice cracks, "I promise."
Peter's crying and so is Steve and it aggravates his eyes and his hip and shoulder are in pain because of Peter's weight crushed on him and he doesn't care.
—
Bucky walks into the room to find Peter curled up against Steve's side, his good arm wrapped around the kid and holding him close. They're asleep and Bucky slips quietly to the windowsill, curling up against the stiff cushion and closing his own eyes.
—-
The kids trickle through, visiting a few at a time. Peter, Wanda, and Pietro are regulars on rotation.
Wanda and Pietro keep it light when Peter is there, but Clint hears Wanda ask Steve what really happened when Pietro and Peter have already walked out the door.
"Just… not something I want to repeat." Steve says softly.
"You'll tell me one day?" Wanda asks, her expression full of concern.
"Maybe."
—
Bucky has been going home more often, sleeping and eating and getting cleaned up. But he still spends each dwindling summer day in Steve's hospital room.
He and the other three are there constantly.
Like they have to keep reminding themselves that he's here. He's okay. He's alive.
He won't disappear.
He won't.
They'll make sure he doesn't.
And they'll do that by keeping him within their sights.
If Steve notices their slightly manic inability to leave him alone during visiting hours, he doesn't mention it.
—
Bucky doesn't miss the guy he starts seeing hanging around outside Steve's room.
He watches as Tony fistbumps the guy.
"Who's that?"
"My dad's head of security. His name is Happy." Tony says with a smile.
"Your dad has his head of security guarding Steve's room?"
Tony's eyes are amused as he looks at Bucky. "Starks don't make the same mistake twice. With the brothers and Rumlow still out there, we're not taking any chances."
Bucky nods, "you think Rumlow would really try something?"
Tony's voice gets steely, "the guy tried to have Steve killed because he what— annoyed him? Won a baseball game? Hit him with pizza? Who the hell knows what he would do if he knew we were trying to put him in juvenile."
"Does Steve know he has security?"
Tony snorts, "hell no."
—-
They allow Steve to walk on his own at the two and a half week mark. His hip holds his weight and he smiles like the sun as he hobbles a few feet before making a small squeak. He starts to buckle at the knees but Bucky and Clint grab his arms and help him back to the bed. He's in obvious pain but he's still smiling and it puts everyone at ease.
—-
He's allowed to start wearing regular clothes and the three boys offer to help him get changed.
Once Natasha steps out, Steve glares at them. "You could have just asked." He snaps, more irritable than he's been in the last few days. They stare guiltily at him and he huffs in annoyance. They don't ask and Steve rolls his eyes. "Help me out of the top part of my gown and you can look."
Bucky unties the gown and slides it off Steve's arm and cast.
Clint sucks in a breath and Bucky sees Steve wince at the sound.
There they are. Huge jagged cuts spell out TRAITOR in all caps across the top of his back.
As if knowing, Steve leans forward more, angling his left side so they can see the other word in all caps. SNITCH.
It's healing and scabbed and it looks horrible.
Steve's fingers reach around and feel at the scabs on his side. "They showed me pictures of how it looked at the beginning. Apparently they were instructed to take them as evidence for the police." He says flatly. "It looks better now than it did then."
They don't have anything to say.
Steve reaches for the shirt that's on his bed, and attempts to put it on himself. That snaps Bucky into action and he helps him, gently getting both arms through. Pulling it down over his torso and then helping him slip into loose sweatpants.
—-
Tony had told his dad about the existence of the photos the police had taken that first day.
His dad had pulled strings and gotten ahold of copies.
Pictures of Steve's back with his shirt still on, bloody.
Then a picture of Steve, laying face down on a hospital bed, unconscious and shirtless.
The skin carved words are red and puffy and still dripping blood.
Howard had clenched the photo so hard it had ripped.
—-
Tony is standing next to his dad when he hears him ask the doctor about possibilities for Steve's back.
"Well, he could be put on a list for skin grafts or plastic surgery but—" the doctor glances at Steve through the window in the door, "he's still very young, messing with the skin on his back in such a way could cause issues later as his skin and bones continue to grow and expand. And even when he finishes growing…" He winces, at the look on Howard's face, "I don't mean to sound uncaring. His scars are horrible, I don't want him to live with them either, but these scars don't impair his motion like skin grafts could… And until he's done growing, we won't really know what the best course of action is."
—-
Tony receives a text from Rhodey the next day.
R: Tony what is going on? Where have you been? And why is the news reporting that Stark Industries bought a dermatology company?
Tony looks at the text and sighs. His dad was really not one to take 'no' for an answer.
T: It's a really long fucking story.
—
*A/N - And there we are! Something to be thankful for today! He LIVES! I truly agonized and rewrote and rearranged and went over this chapter a thousand times because I wanted it to be just right. And you can see at 10K+ words that I had a lot to fit here! Your comments have already meant so much to me! I have loved watching you freak out and worry about Steve, so thank you! I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, if you felt the emotion and suspense/tension held strong and how it made you feel! If you have the time of course, no pressure.
There's about one more chapter before we come to a close. However, I have a question that I would like you to vote on!
I am considering a shorter and faster paced sequel that would spring forward in time and catch up with them later (deal with some issues that this story doesn't have the time to resolve)
Or I can do a long epilogue chapter and squish everything I want into that!
Let me know what you're vote is!