This is a bit of a filler chapter so not a lot of action.
Thank you to everyone still keeping up with this story. Reviews are always appreciated.
Enjoy :)
The room was uncomfortably bright when Tony awoke; his head was throbbing painfully, and his throat felt as though he had swallowed a sawmill. Although his breathing had eased slightly, Tony still felt as though a heavy weight was sitting on his chest. Tony struggled to keep his eyes open against the bright sunlight. He tried to sit himself up further in the bed, but a gentle pressure pushed him back down against the pillows.
"Hey, hey," a soft voice whispered to him, "take it easy."
He tried hard to bring Pepper's face into focus, but his vision was weak and blurred.
"Just rest, Tony; you're okay." Tony wanted desperately to convey to Pepper that his own wellbeing was of no concern to him; he wanted to know how his teammates had fared in the fight against the Asgardians, but his throat could produce nothing more than gurgling sounds. He slumped back against the pillows in frustration but, thankfully, Pepper was quick to answer his unasked questions.
"They're okay, Tony," she confirmed as she softly carded her fingers through his hair. "The Asgardians have all returned to themselves and they have returned to Asgard to confront Loki. Thor wanted to go with them, but the kids managed to convince him he would be more help here."
Small noises from the rest of the house started to filter through to Tony's consciousness and he was gladdened to hear the sounds of small feet wandering up and down the stairs. His vision was finally starting to clear and Pepper's beautiful, kind face was a welcome sight to behold.
"Everyone came out with just a few minor scrapes and bruises; no major damage. You were the biggest casualty," she offered him a sympathetic smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Tony tried again to get his vocal cords working, but his throat was still painfully constricted. Pepper fetched him a small glass of water and helped him to prop himself up to take a drink. Swallowing was unreasonably painful, but the cool liquid sliding down his parched throat was pure bliss.
"Bruce…Bruce feels so guilty about what happened," Pepper was searching Tony's face for any sign of recognition about the events of the previous evening, but Tony had no idea what his science buddy could possibly have to feel guilty about. He tried to convey this to Pepper with a small shrug of the shoulders and a shake of his head, thankfully his partner was very good at reading people, particularly me.
"He, um," Pepper, for once, seemed to be struggling to find the right words to explain. "It was…well, it was Bruce that attacked you. Well, the Hulk, to be more specific."
Tony was thunderstruck by Pepper's revelation; even if he were able to speak, he imagined he would still have been struck dumb by the news. He struggled into a sitting position and gestured frantically for Pepper to explain more to him.
"In the midst of the fighting the Hulk took over completely," Pepper's voice was calm as she explained, but Tony could still see the worry in the crease of her forehead and the tense set of her shoulders. "At first, he was still battling the Asgardians and then…well, then I don't really know. According to Clint, one minute he was on one side of the beach, and the next he was behind you and … and he just lashed out. The kids tried everything to get him off you, but they were still fighting some of the other warriors too. By the time they managed to get him away you were already unconscious and had swallowed half of the beach."
Tony's head ached painfully as he tried to take in this information. Although there had been a few near-misses over the years, the Hulk's rage had never been unleashed in such a near-fatal torrent against one of his own teammates before. Although he would never admit it out loud, it stung Tony that it was him who had been the one to feel the full force of the green behemoth's anger when he and Bruce were so close.
Pepper allowed him a few moments to process the news, but he could tell by the pinched expression of her face that she had more to say, and not all of it was going to be pleasant for Tony to hear.
"After the Asgardians were all deactivated, or whatever you want to call it," she eventually continued, "they were able to fill us in a little on what Loki has been up to."
Tony's ears pricked up at this; that little bastard is in for one hell of an ass whooping. Pepper took a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain a calm demeanour so as not to rile up her invalided partner.
"A few days ago, a couple of days after Loki's disappearance, the Asgardians started to notice that Odin, Thor's father, was behaving strangely. He seemed little concerned with locating his wayward son, and even less concerned that his other son had been turned into a pre-teen. Apparently, this was a big contrast to how he had been when everything first happened.
People naturally started asking questions about his behaviour, but with all of the searching for Loki still happening, it didn't seem to be a high priority. Anyway, yesterday Frigga, Thor's mum, approached Sif with her concerns that Odin was in fact Loki in disguise –"
Tony heard himself gasp in surprise; he was one chest clasp and a faint away from a leading role in a daytime TV soap opera.
"- and that she was worried about Loki's intentions. Sif and the Warriors Three confronted the imposter and…none of them remember much after that. They were deeply ashamed at having been manipulated so easily, and for their part in you getting injured."
"W-d-w-" Tony slumped back on the pillows in frustration at his inability to form even the simplest of words. Pepper gave him a sympathetic smile and cupped his cheek in her hand; her skin felt blissfully cool against Tony's hot, feverish skin and he leaned into her touch revelling in the comfort she so easily provided, even as his mind was still whirring with unanswered questions.
"Rest now," she instructed kindly. "I don't think the Asgardians will be taken down so easily a second time, and there's nothing any of us can do for the time being."
Tony wanted to protest, to keep her talking, but even as he lifted his hand in a half-hearted gesture of retaining her company, he could feel his eyelids getting heavy and his brain slowly powering down.
A few hours later, Tony awoke once more but this time, mercifully, the room was dim with only the cool, grey light of the evening filtering through the open curtains. Tony slowly manoeuvred himself to the edge of the bed, every movement of his arms, legs and neck sending shooting pains through his whole body. He gritted his teeth against the pain and gingerly stood from the bed, every muscle in his body protesting at the movement.
Tony felt ridiculously like an old, frail man as he hobbled his way across the room, whimpering piteously with each step, before he emerged, blinking like a new-born kitten, into the bright hallway. The sight of the staircase, looking steep and foreboding in his current state, made him feel physically ill.
"Pep?" he tried to call out, but his voice was weak and croaky; at least I can form words now, though.
He tried a few more times before he heard the soft patter of tiny feet coming up the stairs. Natasha's tousled red hair and startling green eyes were a welcome sight to Tony, who was starting to think he might waste away at the top of the stairs waiting for someone to hear him.
Natasha tried hard to keep her face impassive, but Tony was touched to see that she was clearly relieved to find him up and about.
"Back to bed," she instructed, her voice firm but kind. "You need to rest."
"I can rest when I'm dead," he wheezed, wincing at the effort it took just to say those few words.
Natasha rewarded him with her trademark smirk, before pointing him back in the direction of his room.
"Can I at least go for a tinkle first?" he asked, only half-jokingly. Natasha kindly assented and assured him that some soup was being made for his dinner and that it would be ready shortly.
When Tony finally got back into bed he felt as though he'd gone five rounds with Mike Tyson. Every inch of his body ached, and his forehead and back were coated in a slick sheen of sweat.
A gentle, hesitant knock at the door alerted him to the presence of one of his teammates. Before they even entered Tony knew who his visitor was.
"Come in, Bruce," he called out, as best he could with his still hoarse throat.
Bruce's dark, unkempt hair looked even more untidy than usual and his eyes, when they eventually met Tony's were full of guilt and worry.
"Come here, Kiddo," Tony invited him, feeling saddened that his young friend was blaming himself for something outside of his control. Bruce shuffled over to the bed, pulling his grey sleeves over his hands and fidgeting constantly. When he got close enough, Tony pulled on one of his hands and gently tugged him onto the bed next to him.
Bruce was still holding himself awkwardly at the edge of the bed, so Tony pulled him against his chest in a tight hug. He smiled as he felt Bruce relaxed into his hold, but his joy quickly turned to sadness as he felt Bruce's tears start to soak into his t-shirt. There was no need for Tony to ask why the boy was upset, his job now was merely to comfort him and convince him that he was not to blame.
"Hey, hey," he pulled Bruce away from his chest, framing his blotchy, tear-stained face between his hands. "Look at me, Bruce. This is not on you, you hear me? This is a risk we take because you are an invaluable member of this team. That is our decision to make, it's one we will continue to make. This is not your fault."
Bruce was hiccupping through his sobs, trying desperately to stem the flow of his tears by dashing at his face with his sleeve-covered hands. Tony helped him out, using his thumbs to brush away the still-falling tears.
"I-I-I'm so-so-so so-sorry, T-Tony!" The boy threw himself back at Tony, causing the older man to fall back against the pillows with a grunt. He would never tell Bruce that his desperate clawing at his shoulders was causing him discomfort, it would only make the young scientist feel further guilt. Instead, Tony grit his teeth against the pain and rocked Bruce in his arms until the boy's sobs petered out and his breathing became more even.
A soft, raspy snore told Tony that Bruce had fallen asleep. Tony tried to manoeuvre the boy off his lap and onto the bed, but his sleepy weight was too much for the injured genius and he was about to give up when the smell of chicken soup wafted into the room, followed by Natasha balancing a laden tray in her tiny hands. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration as she tried to will her small body not to drop the heavy tray.
On seeing Tony's predicament Nat offered him a small smirk before depositing her tray on his bedside table. She vaulted onto the bed and, seemingly effortlessly, helped roll Bruce onto the other side of the bed.
Nat sat cross-legged at the end of the bed, watching to make sure Tony ate every last bit of his chicken soup. Tony slurped the food down noisily, hoping to discourage Nat's scrutiny, but the spy's immense level of patience meant she quite easily tuned out the noise and continued her vigilance with ease.
When he finally finished his food, Tony was expecting Nat to scarper, her task accomplished. Instead Nat continued to carefully watch his face; Tony was getting fidgety under her intense stare.
"Something else you need, Red?" Natasha tilted her head to the side, reminding Tony of a confused little kitten – not that I would EVER tell her that; despite evidence to the contrary, I do value my continued existence. Natasha pondered a few moments more before answering him.
"There's been a development."
Tony sat up straight, ignoring the pain shooting across his back at the sudden movement.
"Fury called…they have captured the two enhanced individuals."
Tony felt his body sag, feeling almost frustrated that the news was not regarding Loki, who he was holding personally responsible for every ounce of pain he was feeling.
"Wait," Tony said, after the news had penetrated past his initial disappointment, "you said captured? Not…killed?"
Natasha smirked again, but Tony did not think he was mistaken when he believed he saw her eyes sparkling with something akin to pleasure.
"Captured, that's right. Apparently, Nick's conscious was long overdue an excursion." Tony barked out a laugh. He felt sufficiently shocked and happy that Fury had chosen a more merciful route with the siblings. Although, if he thought too long about it, he worried a little about what the consequences of being captured by Shield might entail.
"Where are they being held? What will happen to them?" He finally managed to ask.
"Currently on a Shield-issue flying bus…apparently," Natasha quirked an eyebrow at the genius, clearly conveying her scepticism about the reliability of that information. "They'll be taken to a secure, underwater prison called The Raft where…well, they'll be interrogated. Maybe some tests will be conducted."
Tony did not like the sound of that.
"Where is this prison?" he asked. Natasha shrugged one little shoulder, but he had a feeling she knew more that she was letting on.
"That's classified," she stated. "Only those with sufficient clearance know the location and how to access it."
"What's your clearance level again?" he inquired.
"Oh, that information is way, way above my paygrade, Shell Head." This time Tony answered her knowing smirk with one of his own.
"How quickly can you get the quinjet ready?"
Natasha rolled backwards off the bed, spun on her heel and was exiting the room before Tony had even finished asking the question.
"Give me ten minutes."