Author's Note: hehehehehehe hi...
Yes... it has been a long time. If anyone's still here for this little drabble, hello!
Disclaimer: do I not only now own anything from Marvel, but also have no medical experience at all!
And trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks, again I write only from my own experiences and from what I have read in books/online, it differs for everyone, including our very own Tony Stark!
Let's have a little recap of what's happened so far, for those of you who are still here but aren't bothered to read the story again:
- A very nervous Wanda is on her first mission
- The team of Cap, Clint, Nat, Tony and Wanda are trying to reclaim some weapons from an abandoned warehouse
- Nat doesn't like Wanda using her powers, as she doesn't trust her fully after her mind tricks in Age of Ultron
- Natasha and Wanda have gone to the warehouse
- Tony is waiting in the quinjet to receive the signal to fly out to collect the weapons
- Clint is on lookout from a nearby water tower
- Cap is on the roof (because why not (: )
oh and it's raining
Okay, enough from me, let's actually get into it!
Clint's POV
The muscles in Clint's arms twinged as he pulled himself up the slippery metal legs of the water tower, clambering with the ease and fluidity of a monkey. Undeterred by the rain, he swung his legs up to the domed top and settled himself with his bow ready in his hands.
He let his mind wander for a second to Wanda and Natasha. He could faintly make out their silhouettes until they were swallowed by the darkness and mist of the rain. He thought about Natasha and Bruce, and felt anger stirring in his chest. That coward. Who wouldn't want to be with Nat? Smart, funny, brave Natasha? He could tell, after years of practising of reading her stone-like mask, that Banner had broken her heart. There weren't many people that Nat opened to about her past, and he knew that she felt like that her past had scared Banner away.
But with Wanda it was the opposite - as Nat had told Clint in shaky whispers about what vision she'd put in her head - Wanda had witnessed Natasha's nightmare along with her, and if it was possible, it made their bond even stronger. Natasha didn't need to explain herself to Wanda because she knew already. The two girls had become closer over the last three months, but Clint knew that Nat's aversion to Wanda's powers was a major cause for tension between the two girls.
And what had that been a few days ago - Wanda levitating Natasha? He hadn't gotten a chance to ask Nat about it, because she'd spent her evenings perfecting the plan with Steve. It was strange to watch Nat flick between 'ruthless-trainer' mode, 'teasing-big sister' mode, and 'unreadable blank slate' around Wanda. It shouldn't have surprised Clint, but it did. He thought Natasha had finally relaxed around the Avengers, like at the party at Stark Tower pre-Ultron, but recently she'd been like a chameleon.
"Nat?" He spoke into his comm, answered only by silence. The water must have fried it. He mentally cursed Stark, he could make heat-vision goggles but not waterproof comms?!
Lightning struck nearby, briefly illuminating everything before a blanket of darkness settled once again.
We really couldn't have picked better weather for this mission, thought Clint absentmindedly while slicking his drenched hair out of his eyes and pulling down those 'special' heat-vision goggles. The sooner the mission is done, the better.
The goggles offered him a crystal clear vision of trouble - several neon figures were approaching the warehouse, the warehouse that Wanda and Natasha were about to enter.
"You're not messing up our plan today", he murmured under his breath, picking an arrow from his quiver and drawing his arm back in a practised motion. He narrowed his eyes, inhaled, and as he let go of the arrow, he let out his breath. Easy. He repeated this seven times, and watched through the black and red screen of the goggles as the figures slumped down, arrow in chest.
"Nat? I eliminated seven hostiles, coast seems clear for now. Nat?"
No reply.
"Tony? Cap? How is the situation on the roof? Clear to move on?"
Nothing but the rumble of thunder and the pitter-patter of raindrops on the plastic casing of the water tower.
He focused his view on the roof, and felt the breath escape his lips as the goggles zoomed in on one, two, three figures.
"Cap? Steve, are you okay?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He drew back another arrow, and watched the roof, trying to spot a gap as he didn't want to hit Cap by mistake. This slight hesitation, was his mistake. He felt something whizz past his ear and swung around. The water tower was now also surrounded by black-clad figures, and they were shooting up at him.
He released his arrow in their direction, just as a tremor shot up the water tower and he lost his balance on the slippery surface. He fell on his back, but he didn't have the luxury to waste time now. Winded, he scrambled to his feet, wincing at a twinge in his thighs. They, whoever they were, weren't agile enough to climb up it, so they were going to make him fall off, several metres to his death. Another thump.
Clint wasn't panicking, not yet, but he was beginning to realise that this had been set up. Someone knew their plan, and that they were coming. He spread his feet in a more stable stance and continued to try to shoot down at his attackers.
"Sorry Cap, kinda preoccupied right now," he muttered, in case the super soldier could hear him. He was beginning to tire, and they showed no signs of slowing.
Time for the 'big one'. His fingers fumbled in his quiver, and found *it*. He drew back in his arm, poised for the perfect finishing shot, when…
FLASH
Lightning struck the ground next to the water tower, and the metal legs that had been irritated already by the ninja-like figures gave away with the added jolt of electricity.
"ARGHHH!" Against his resolve, Clint let out a yell as the water tower creaked and croaked, the legs buckling, Clint's legs buckling, he stuck his hands out in front of him to avoid smashing his head as everything tipped forwards, while doing so releasing the arrow in the wrong direction, slipping and sliding, until Clint was falling through the air, head first into the neighbouring forest, water from the tower engulfing him, he couldn't breathe, and with a final roar of thunder, everything went black.
Tony's POV
A roll of thunder shook through the quinjet. Tony sat, restlessly, fiddling with buttons here and levers there. He hated sitting and waiting, and loathed Steve for giving him such an uneventful role. He knew that not every mission would require the full powers of Iron Man, but still! Flying just to collect crates - child's play. He put on his Iron Man helmet, and spoke to the others;
"How's it going? You missing me? Need some assistance?"
"Tony!" Was Capiscle's only reply. The rest of the team were surprisingly silent. Tony tried again,
"Guys? Hello? Time for pick-up?" It had been half an hour already. And then came the crumbling realisation.
Oh no no no no no. "Friday, which comms did we give the others?"
"The 22nd Editions, sir."
Ohrghhhhh. He'd given them prototype comms, and they weren't waterproof, or long-distance! The only feature that worked on them was 'record'.
Shit.
"And before you say it Steve, I know. 'Language'". Tony desperately quipped, hoping someone could hear him.
Nope. No reply. Looked like he'd sent his team into the field badly equipped, but they could still complete the mission. They were the Avengers and this was a simple mission. It was Wanda's first as an official Avenger, and therefore picked because of the low threat potential.
Tony opened the quinjet door and stepped out into the pouring rain. It was really coming down now, in sleets of cold water that splashed on the murky ground, and immediately pelted his suit. The ping ping pinging sound of raindrops flicking off his suit was his only companion as he flew a couple of metres.
Suddenly, too quick for FRIDAY to catch it, an arrow whistled past, narrowly missing his helmet, and landing behind him.
Close to the quinjet.
Which exploded with a violent BOOM of metal bits flying everywhere and a plume of fire and smoke that sizzled despite the rain.
The shockwave from the explosion sent Iron Man sprawling, twisting and turning in the air as he tried to unsuccessfully stabilise himself with his thrusters, before he collided sharply with the mud. He skidded through the muck, the air momentarily knocked out of his lungs, and he lay a second in a puddle while everything around him burned.
The nearby forest caught aflame, the explosion stronger then the rain that was easing now, amber licking the corpses of tall evergreen trees, dehydrated after weeks of drought, branches crackling and snapping like toothpicks. Bits of corroded metal embedded themselves in theatres, in the forest, in the earth around, the quinjet desiccated into pathetic smithereens.
Tony blinked heavily, his ears ringing, heavily disorientated, sitting up slowly, the suit suddenly heavy on his shoulders.
"Friday, where on EARTH did that come from?"
"Calculating trajectory. It was shot by Clint Barton from the top of the water tower. Intended target, a group of unidentifiable assailants." Came the ver calm Irish lilt.
Tony swore under his breath.
He slipped as he tried to stand up in the mud, eventually using his thrusters to propel himself upright, only to be faced with a torrential wave of water.
He should have moved, flown away, done anything at all, but he was stuck. Stuck in a memory. He thought he'd gotten over it, he thought he was supposed to be better.
But the water tower that was collapsing here, drowning him here, was triggering the memory of another water tower collapsing on him, in a small snowy town in Tennessee, there was no Harley to save him, he should have kept in better contact with that kid, and the panic was attacking him now, gripping at his mind, and he just felt that bottomless hole calling him as he was ravaged by the feeling of utter helplessness.
The feeling of not being in control of anything, anything at all that had gripped him so much at that time in his life was back, and the water had knocked him over and he was being thrown about, hit against the ruins of the quinjet and he heard FRIDAY dimly through his panic, telling him his heart rate was up and he had to slow down his breathing.
"Breathe boss."
Breathe.
He could do that.
He closed his eyes, and shakily inhaled.
1,2,3,4,5,6,7.
He held it for 1,2,3,4.
And exhaled 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11.
And again. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7.
1,2,3,4.
And exhaled 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11.
He just kept repeating it, lying underneath a torrent of water, his suit protecting him from everything happening, providing him with oxygen. He was tossed around like a dead fish, but barely noticed as he disappeared further and further into his head.
He opened his eyes and didn't know here he was. The sky was the colour of wet tarmac and around him trees were still faint burning, letting off steam that diffused immediately into the night. He felt so tired, and had a brutal crick in his neck. He sat up too fast, his head spinning, and he took his helmet off.
The night air was heavy with the smell of smoke and metal, and he put his helmet back on quickly, trying to block the putrid smell.
"FRIDAY, what, where… Status report." He demanded, voice oddly croaky.
"Good to have you back sir. Lightning struck near the Water Depot, which caused it to fall over, which promptly caused you to have a panic attack. You entered a state of distress, from which you escaped by applying some diaphragmatic breathing and then passed out from the intense emotion. The suit saved your life as we washed up in the forest, approximately 800 metres away from the warehouse. You have been out for two and a half hours."
Oh no.
