So, I'm actually still alive...I'm so sorry that this update took so long. I was out of the country and there was no internet connection. And then I got all depressed because I came back to see that I didn't get any reviews/favorites/follows. But I realized that it's because I'm having weird issues with this website and my email. I'm not getting any notifications about anything! But I still get emails from other things. Just not from this site. I'm so confused. Anyone have any idea what I should do to fix this? Has this happened to anyone? I emailed , but haven't got a response. So sad...obviously, I'm not loved.
Anyway, with that rant out of the way, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I haven't quite decided how I'm going to end this story, so I'm open to suggestions.
As usual, I don't own any Marvel products. And please review!
Chapter 5
Green eyes glared hatefully at the solid white walls that surrounded her, even as a fiery-red head paced before her. She snarled, struggling against her bindings, but the chains held steady, biting into her pale skin.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Natasha, as if speaking to a misbehaving child. "You wouldn't want to bleed out faster now, do you?"
The agent's voice was calm and low, but there was a threatening chill hidden within her words.
She swung a chair around so that its back faced the Enchantress and sat down upon it; her eyes locked with the goddess'. She stared at the Enchantress before her, feeling great satisfaction as she took in all the Asgardian's injuries.
The Enchantress' arms were bound tightly behind her back to the metal chair; her ankles were tied to the bottom of its legs. In that position, she couldn't even move a finger. A black collar had been attached to her neck as well.
She had received no treatment and blood from her side and the arrow holes in her hands was slowly pooling around her. Her hair was matted with the crimson liquid and her chest quivered each time she breathed, making the burns chafe against the chains. Weary lines covered her face, but there was defiance in her yet.
"You fools," growled the Enchantress, "Do you really believe that mere mortals can hold me here?"
"Is that a threat? I think it was." Natasha gleefully raised a small black button and pressed it.
Wordless screams tore from the Enchantress' throat as her body seized as one million volts of electricity coursed through her. Natasha held on a moment longer than she should have and by the time she released the goddess, the Asgardian was spent, slumped in her chair.
Natasha didn't hesitate and leapt up, ferociously jerking back the Enchantress' hair, eliciting a groan of pain.
"You hurt one of our own," Natasha hissed, "Things will get only go downhill from here if you don't start talking."
The Enchantress chuckled, "You are mistaken. It is not I who stabbed the Man of Iron. It was by your hands, Spider, and no one else's."
Something flashed in Natasha's eyes and faster than anyone could see, she used her palm to strike upwards. There was a distinct cracking sound, followed by a scream. Natasha didn't stop at the sight of blood streaming down the Enchantress' broken nose; she whipped out the same marine knife that was used against Tony and plunged it downwards, burying it into the Asgardian's left thigh. The Enchantress cried out, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.
"Stark had a pole run through his leg in exactly the same place, curtesy of your actions. Oh, he also had a broken rib, shoulder wound, and that all so lovely injury I gave him. Start talking, Enchantress, or you'll slowly feel the exact same pain that my teammate went through, but worse." Natasha bent down and whispered into the Asgardian's ear. "Much, much worse...I guarantee it."
Through gritted teeth, the Enchantress snapped back, "You are a tool and nothing more. I do not fear those who work in the shadows."
Agent Romanoff stepped back with a feral grin. "It is the dark you should be afraid of, Enchantress, because in that world - in my world - there are no rules."
"There are worse things than a human like you."
"That's where you're wrong. Let me show you what I am capable of..."
An hour later, Natasha stepped out of interrogation and was instantly greeted by a junior agent.
"Director Fury would like you to make a full report on your findings," he said, sounding nervous (as he should be).
"If he wants to know, he can come find me and ask me himself. Where's Stark?" she returned.
"I sent Agent Collins for a reason, Agent Romanoff," boomed Fury, coming up to them, "Answer the question. What is the Enchantress' purpose of building a portal?"
"She hadn't originally planned to build one, but after her encounter with Hulk, she needed it to return to Asgard to replenish her magic and heal herself," Natasha responded, a little bit impatient, but Fury paid no attention to it.
"And what did she want with Stark?"
"She is under the impression that Stark can build the portal. She would have sought out Jane Foster, but she's currently in Asgard with Thor."
"We'll assign some agents to keep an eye on her when she returns. Did the Enchantress say anything else?"
"No, sir."
"Then you are dismissed. I do believe that Stark just got out of surgery."
Natasha nodded and began to walk briskly away before she paused and turned back around. "One more thing, you may need to get some medics in there. She'll die in the next half hour if she doesn't get treated soon."
Fury exploded, "Romanoff! I said I wanted her alive!"
"She is...for now," Natasha shot back and then completely disappeared from view as she made her way to the helicarrier's hospital.
Fury groaned, pressing his fingers to squeeze the upper bridge of his nose.
"Sir?" questioned Agent Collins.
Fury sighed. "You heard her. Get some medics in there. Keep her alive, do you understand me?!" he barked. Fury clenched his teeth, "I'm not done with her yet."
The first thing Natasha saw was Bruce hiding outside Tony's recovery room with Clint peeking around the corner of the door. Though she couldn't see Clint's expression, Bruce looked a little frustrated and conflicted.
"What's going on?" asked Natasha, glancing into the crack of the door. Steve was sitting by Tony's bedside, hunched over and his shoulders were shaking slightly.
She backed out immediately, understanding why Bruce didn't want to intrude, and looked at him. "Did something go wrong in his surgery?"
Bruce sighed, "He's fine. He'll be able to walk perfectly with physical therapy."
"Then what happened? Rogers has that kicked-puppy look again."
"Tony didn't come out of anesthetics very well."
"Who does?" snorted Clint.
"They had to restrain him, which made him struggle more," Bruce continued, ignoring Barton. "They made the decision to sedate Tony until his wounds have healed enough for him to move around."
"What?!" snapped Natasha. She knew as well as the others how hellish nightmares could become, especially people who suffered from PTSD like them. And Tony wasn't given the option to wake up...
"Cap wasn't too happy about it either," said Barton, straightening.
Bruce rolled his eyes, "And then Clint here threw a tantrum, getting both of us kicked out."
"Hey! I only did that 'cause Rogers was going to rip that doctor's head off!"
Bruce and Natasha understood Clint's reasoning easily. By making a mess out of things, Clint had prevented Steve from being booted out of the room. If there was anyone that could be of any help to Tony now, it was Steve. They all knew of Tony's occasional nightmares. Hell, they had their own, but they had been trained to deal with it. Tony only knew how to drown himself in alcohol or force his body to stay awake and bury himself into his work. Steve was always the one person who could calm the genius down and coax him back to bed.
Tony needed Steve just as much as Steve needed him.
"So how long are they keeping him under?" asked Natasha.
"I don't know. Tony's injuries are severe. His back wound ripped open again and infection was starting to settle in. His broken rib was also dangerously close puncturing his lungs, so they had to go in and fix that. Surprisingly, his leg was the easiest to repair. The pole had gone through and through without damaging any veins or arteries. None of his tendons were badly hurt either," explained Bruce.
"But it's still gonna hurt like a bitch," commented Clint.
"Which is why I think that the doctors made the right decision on this. He can't lie down in any position that won't aggravate his wounds. If he's kept sedated, he can't feel it, but I don't like the idea of it. It's as if the doctors are torturing him by doing this."
Natasha frowned, "How deep will he be under?"
Now, Bruce's brow furrowed. "I have no idea. Let's just hope it's deep enough or he's not going to react well to waking up."
"Tasha," said Clint suddenly, "What happened with the Enchantress?"
"I think she's alive."
Bruce's eyebrow rose, "You 'think'?"
Clint chuckled, "I didn't know you liked Stark that much."
"She was getting on my nerves," Natasha snapped back. She paused. "If she's still alive, Rogers has to be kept from her."
Both looked at her, questioning.
"She got under my skin. Think of the damage she can do to Rogers," Natasha explained impatiently.
"So now we're on 'Stark Watch' and we gotta look after Captain?" gaped Clint.
Beeping from the room distracted them and they glanced in to see Rogers running his fingers comfortingly through Tony's hair as he feebly thrashed in his sleep. There were low murmurs from Steve that covered Tony's whimpers. No one could tell if it was from pain or a nightmare.
The agents heard a quiet growl and turned quickly in time to see a green tinge cover Banner's eyes. And then the scientist was gone to find a quiet corner to calm down.
Natasha and Clint stood there dumbstruck before turning to each other.
"I don't like this..." Natasha admitted quietly.
"Feeling helpless or guilty? Or just feeling in general?"
Natasha smacked Clint's arm, probably leaving a bruise on the archer. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah...I do," Clint replied, a little breathlessly. He pressed his back against the wall and slid down, looking at the ground. "Are you starting to remember what happened?"
"No. Do you?"
"Not really, but I keep getting these snatches of images where instead of the Enchantress I'm shooting, it's Tony." Clint buried his face into his hands. "Maybe it's just because I know the truth now, but I can see the fear and betrayal in his eyes as clear as day. It's burned into my mind, Tasha. Even if he forgives me, that will never disappear. How am I supposed to get over that?"
Natasha joined him, sitting next to the archer. Their shoulders touched, as if sharing their burdens. "I stabbed him in the back. Literally. With a marine knife. I can still remember the feeling of his blood spilling over my hands. It doesn't get worse than that."
Clint snorted. "Are we really comparing our guilt?"
Natasha looked slightly surprised. "I guess we are."
"What the hell happened to us? I remember hating Tony's guts because he wouldn't shut the fuck up."
"And I almost killed him on a daily basis." She smiled as she remembered the older days. Her eyes met with Clint's. "We've been compromised. Is this for the better or worse?"
Clint exhaled. "I don't know…"
As assassins, emotions were dangerous things to have. Clint and Natasha had that lesson ingrained into the very fiber of their beings. Yet, he couldn't deny that the laughter he'd had with the Avengers aroused certain feelings that he had buried so long ago, filling the aching hole deep within his battered soul. He had come to need the proximity of the others, to want to have friendships and relationships in his life. So there was one thing he was sure of at this moment.
There was no hesitation in his voice. "But I know that I'd do anything to protect what we have right now."
Natasha gave him a genuine smile. "Same here."
Heat was bearing down upon him. The sand and dust choked him, lodging in his throat and making it hard to breathe. Shouts in Arabic surrounded him and he could feel hands grabbing at his hair, forcing him to his knees. Ah…Afghanistan again.
Tony knew how this went. The hood over his head would be removed and he would see the Ten Rings standing before him. They would shove his face into a water-filled tub over and over again until all his strength was spent and his lungs burning for air. He would see Yinsen's blood-stained face asking him "why?" over and over again until his heart broke into a million pieces.
And then repeat. Again and again and again…
He knew it and he knew this was just a dream – a memory that should have been left behind, but he couldn't stop his heart from thumping wildly or the arc reactor burning within his chest. He couldn't fight the sheer terror that consumed him.
The rough bag was ripped off his head and he blinked frantically up at the shadowy faces that were hidden in the darkness as he squinted at the bright lights shining down upon him.
There was something different about this dream. The Ten Rings didn't immediately snarl at him, threatening him to build the Jericho. No, the silence of the four people in front of him was deafening.
"Who are you?" Tony hissed, fighting against the chains that tied him to his chair.
The figures stepped into the light and suddenly, this nightmare was far, far worse than Tony had ever had.
Steve's blue eyes glittered maliciously at him. On either side of him were Natasha and Clint. Bruce stood a distance behind them, watching with a morbid fascination. The three soldiers advanced, weapons in hand.
Clint was first. In a flash, he buried an arrow deep into Tony's right shoulder. When he yelped, Clint punched him harshly across his face. A tooth was dislodged, followed by excruciating pain.
Natasha was next. She lovingly caressed Tony's face, locking their eyes together. If she noticed the pleading in Tony's black irises, she said nothing. Instead, she smirked and made a sharp movement. A scream escaped Tony's lips as he felt the marine knife tear through his skin and muscle, filling his world fire and darkness.
Last was Steve. Kind, loving Steve – the Steve who always whispered sweet nothings into his ear before he fell asleep; the Steve who would hold him so tightly after a nightmare. Who was going to comfort him now? Who would love him now?
"No one…" whispered Steve.
Tony hadn't realized that he had asked the last question out loud. Tears welled in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks as fast as his blood from the knife that was still buried into his back.
"Steve…please…" he whimpered, "Please don't…"
The decorated shield slammed into him, knocking him onto the ground. He bit down a cry as he collided with the hard, unforgiving cement. His vision wavered and it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. A hard kick rammed against his chest and he heard a crack as his ribs gave in. He moaned, his body subconsciously curling in on himself.
This was just a dream. Just a dream…but why couldn't he wake up?
"You're a monster," growled Captain America.
"An annoyance," added Natasha.
"Useless piece of shit," Clint hissed.
Just when Tony didn't think he could break anymore, those words tore through him and shredded every last bit of whatever hope, love, and humanity he had left within him.
Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?
Absolutely nothing.
What are you?
Broken…
The slight variation of the beeping on the heart monitors had immediately drawn Steve's attention and the two spies sitting outside the room. He frowned, confused. But then, the machines went wild. The EKG spiked and Tony's heart rate accelerated exponentially. The billionaire's back arched as his body went taut and spasmed.
"Help! I need help in here!" Steve yelled in sheer panic.
Natasha and Clint rushed in at his words, alarm written clearly on their faces (which said something). Seconds behind them were the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors and nurses.
There was a bustle of movements and the Avengers found themselves shoved to a corner of the massive room.
"What caused this?!" exclaimed a nurse.
"Heart rate is 210 over 100. Should we inject hyrdralazine?"
"No, it's too risky with the medication he's currently on."
"Should we bring a crash cart?"
This was getting ridiculous. All the Avengers knew exactly what was causing this.
"For God's sake, just take him off the sedatives!" Steve shouted over them.
A doctor turned, "Please, Mr. Rogers, let us do our job or we will be forced to remove you from the premises."
Clint and Natasha growled.
"I'd like to see you try," hissed Natasha. "Clint?"
In a couple of fast steps, Clint had made it over and ripped out one of the IV bags. He rounded onto the doctors. "For medical professionals, you're all fucking idiots! He was just having a nightmare that he couldn't fucking wake up from because you wouldn't let him!"
"Agent Barton, we only placed him under because he needs time to recover."
"How many of you have seen a battlefield? Been tortured?" Clint retorted. "Talk to me after you understand how deteriorating those memories can be to someone. Injuries or not, I will not allow you to torture my friend. Now get the fuck out!"
"Agent Barton…"
Steve stepped forward, his large frame towering over the medics. "I believe he said to leave."
"And someone find Banner," Natasha added from where she stood, holding the door open.
Disgruntled, everyone piled out, completely missing the fact that Tony's heart rate had slowed somewhat now that his consciousness was returning. Most anesthetics usually didn't affect the stubborn genius and now that it wasn't a constant stream into his bloodstream, he was already fighting his way out of the darkness.
A whimper escaped Tony's lips and instantly, Steve, Clint, and Natasha was by his side.
In hindsight, they should have realized that Tony's nightmare had involved them. They should have known better than to crowd around a waking Tony when he was afraid of them.
Tony's eyes had snapped opened. His black irises were dilated and filled with panic. Disorientation was written all over his face just as his body started register the pain. He moaned, trying to curl in on himself.
"N-no…p-please s-stop…" he cried.
Steve reached out, trying to hold him down so that he couldn't injure himself more. "Tony, wake up. It's just a dream!"
At his touch, Tony screamed, as if Steve's hands had burned him. Steve jumped back, desperation written all over him, but he knew Tony. This was a routine – something he had dealt with for the past year.
Determination filled his eyes and he ignored Clint's and Natasha's protestations as his hands cupped Tony's cheeks. Tony struggled weakly, but Steve held on tightly.
"Tony!" he shouted, "Wake up!"
Tony's black eyes blearily made contact with his blue ones. Confused and scared met strong and loving.
"Tony…" Steve said, his voice soft and gentle. "Tony, it's alright. You're safe now. It's alright…"
The repeated murmurs started to coax Tony back into reality and tears filled his eyes.
"Steve?" Tony asked hoarsely.
Steve smiled warmly. "Hey, babe. Welcome back."
Tony grasped at Steve's hands, as if it could ground him. "Steve?" he said again, hopeful this time.
"Yes. I'm here. You're safe."
"D-don't l-leave me," whimpered Tony, tears spilling over.
"I'll never leave you. I love you."
"I'm s-sorry…"
Surprise caught Steve unawares. This was not part of his routine – this was not how Tony usually reacted after a nightmare. He found he could only say one thing. "Why?"
"S-sorry…" Tony whispered as his tears dropped onto Steve's hands. His eyes flickered and then shut as he succumbed to his pain and medication.
Natasha and Clint looked up at Steve.
Clint frowned. "What was that?"
"I don't know."
"You know, Rogers. You just don't want to admit it," snapped Natasha.
Anger flittered on the super soldier's face. "What are you talking about, Natasha?"
"Stark isn't tormented by Afghanistan anymore. No, what's torturing him is us! Don't try to think of this otherwise!" she nearly screamed.
Steve held up a hand, thinking to comfort her, but Clint reacted faster. The archer grabbed Natasha around the waist and held her closely to his body, feeling her shake against him.
"We should go…" Clint said quietly.
No questions were asked; no protests were made. The three of them quietly made their way out and came face-to-face with Bruce's alarmed face. His eyes were wide and his hair was a mess. His shirt had become untucked sometime during his sprint to the hospital wing and he didn't have time to straighten himself up.
"What happened? Some doctors came looking for me," he panted out.
Steve could only shake his head and croak out. "Take care of him, please."
"Steve…"
But Steve wouldn't hear of it and left, his shoulders slumped and his entire figure looking so small, like before he had the serum.
Bruce turned to ask Clint and Natasha, but the two had disappeared as well. Sighing, he wandered into Tony's room and started to check his vitals and wounds. When he was satisfied that Tony would be alright for now, he settled down into Steve's chair and waited quietly. After all, only Tony could fix what the rift between him and his teammates.
There was nothing Bruce could do but feel utterly helpless as he watched his family tear itself apart…
The sound of constant beeping was the first thing that greeted Tony when he woke again. The edges of his nightmare had faded away, leaving just an aching of his heart. His eyes fluttered open. The familiar dark room welcomed him to reality as did the slumbering figure of…Bruce? Tony felt his stomach churn. He was honestly expecting Steve to be holding his hands, soothing him.
"JARVIS?" he rasped out, hoping that his AI had managed to wiggle itself into the helicarrier again, but there was no response. It made sense. Tony was pretty much too out of it to even slip the idea into his AI's head (relatively speaking).
He sighed and shifted, eliciting a gasp as a fire spread through his entire body. Glancing down, he saw his leg wrapped tightly and elevated with a large pillow. Oh, yeah. He got stabbed with a fucking pole! At least his back didn't hurt quite as badly as it did before. It still hurt, obviously, but at this point, it was tolerable.
"Tony?" came Bruce's voice.
Tony looked to his left and saw Bruce leaning forward. "You rang?"
Bruce ignored Tony's snarky remark. "How are you feeling?"
The genius just rolled his eyes at Bruce and stared at the ceiling. "Where're the others?" he asked, trying to sound aloof, but failing miserably.
"They're…with Fury," Bruce lied.
"They're sulking, aren't they?"
The scientist didn't answer.
"Come on, big guy. I'm injured, not stupid."
But still, there was no response.
Tony sighed in frustration. "Fine, I'll go find him then."
He made to move and immediately, Bruce jumped up.
"Where's Steve?" Tony asked again, knowing full well that Bruce had played right into his hand.
Banner had no choice and sighed. "I think Fury ordered the three of them back to Malibu. He wasn't quite happy that they had threatened all the nurses and doctors here."
"Take me home then."
"Tony, you need treatment."
"And you're my doctor."
"Tony," chastised Bruce.
Suddenly, all the sarcasm dropped, leaving only an expression that Bruce had seen a few times. There was no sparkle behind his black eyes; no wrinkle lines that appeared when he smiled. There was a hardness to the billionaire's face, making him seem ten years older than he actually was.
Tony Stark was serious.
"Bruce, you know as well as I do that they can't be left alone. And it's not just them. I need to get over this too, but nothing's going to get solved if we just leave it to fester."
"Let me ask you one question then. You know them. You know that they're not going to forgive themselves so easily. What are you going to do if they don't?"
Tony looked down on his hands. He hadn't thought about it. What if Steve never stopped looking at him like he was afraid that he'd break? What if Clint decided that Tony was too fragile to pull pranks on? And what if Natasha would treat him nicely? He suppressed a shudder at that last thought.
"Tony," Bruce said gently when Tony didn't reply. "I need to know that you can handle this. If the world seems to crumble around you, can you handle it?"
A life without Steve, without the Avengers, seemed so meaningless. Like there was nothing left for him except an emptiness that he could never fill with all the scotch and women in the world.
But even still, at least he would have tried. More than anything, Tony didn't think he could live with the regret of not doing all he could. Even if it hurt Steve, Clint, and Natasha to pass the days remembering everything they did each time they saw him, he had to be selfish just one more time.
"Doesn't matter if I can handle it or not. I have to do this," he said back quietly. His black eyes met Bruce's. There was conviction and determination burning in his irises. "I love him, Bruce. I'm not going to lose him just because some bitch played puppets with us."
A pause. "That's enough for me. Come on, I'll help you up."
"Wait, what? Really? It was that simple. Are you fucking kidding me?!"
"You want me to help you or not?"
Tony grumbled and glared at the wheelchair that Bruce brought over.
Banner eyed him warily. "Don't you even think about dismantling this one, Tony."
Tony rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it."
The seashore breeze was light and cool on Steve's face; the sun was bearing down on him and yet, he felt so cold. Steve closed his eyes and could only see ice and snow around him. It didn't even feel right for him to be standing on the balcony on the roof of Tony's Malibu mansion. Tony had been so scared. And this was Tony Stark he was talking about. The Ironman didn't get frightened easily.
And it was his fault.
Steve ran his hand through his short hair, mussing it up. What was he supposed to do now? Should he leave Tony? The billionaire could recover properly without the risk of tearing out his stitches every time Steve wanted to get close to him. But Steve could barely handle the thought of leaving. Tony, with all his snarky retorts, his incapability of taking care of himself, and his metallic heart that cared far too much about others, had become the sun in Steve's world. He didn't know what he would do if he couldn't feel the tingle through his skin every time Tony brushed by him. The sound of Tony's laughter, the scratchiness of his goatee, and the secretive loving gazes that Tony didn't know he knew about. Steve just couldn't live without it all.
But could he live with those secretive gazes turn into ones of fear? What if Tony's laughter died completely? The man had enough nightmares – ones that he should not have had. Steve had always been the one to coax Tony back to reality. But what would happen when those dreams are caused by the one sleeping beside the genius?
Steve rubbed his face in frustration. What the hell was he supposed to do?!
Before he could bury himself deeper into his misery, his sharp ears caught the sound of a helicopter in the distance. He frowned. He wasn't aware of any arrivals to the Malibu mansion, especially after an irate Fury booted them off the helicarrier.
"Clint, Natasha," he said normally, knowing full well that the two had been hovering around to make sure that he didn't do anything drastic.
The two materialized beside him and stared off into the distance.
"Fury?" Clint asked Natasha just as the chopper came into view.
"Doubt it."
"Threat?"
"Probably not."
Steve didn't say anything and headed back into the house. "JARVIS, if that bird is a threat, shut down everything."
"Understood, sir," responded the polite, British voice.
The super soldier turned into another hallway and briskly walked to the door, shoving it open. The helicopter had already begun to land, making Steve, Clint, and Natasha raise their hands to their face to shield their eyes.
The door of the landed chopper opened, revealing one Tony Stark, but there was no humor in his eyes. No snarky remarks or smirks. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe with Bruce supporting him on his other side. His breathing was slightly harsh; his black eyes were determined and hard. They could still see the white bandages hidden beneath his AC/DC t-shirt and how his injured leg was held cautiously off the floor.
The Avengers stared at him, a little confused, before worry transformed into anger.
"What the hell are you doing, Tony?" demanded Clint.
"I live here," huffed Tony.
Steve rounded on Tony. "Tony, what are you thinking? You're injured! Why aren't you in the hospital?!"
"Bruce can stitch me back up," Tony replied nonchalantly. "We need to talk."
Bruce kept quiet, knowing full well of Tony's intentions.
The other three hesitated, not sure if it was a good idea to be so close with the man that they had hurt.
Tony crossed his arms, wiping off the brief flash of pain on his face. "You guys don't really have a choice in the matter. What the bitch said was all true. The least you can do is hear me out. You owe me that much."
The words were harsh, but Tony knew that they wouldn't respond to anything else. They were already more than halfway down a guilt trip; Tony knew that he would be able to use that this advantage to get across to them.
As he had expected, the soldiers' postures fell in defeat and carefully watched Bruce help Tony out. The scientists' interactions didn't seem any different. Bruce was scolding Tony who was brushing him aside with sarcastic replies, even as he started to lean heavier and heavier on Bruce's shoulder.
None of them missed the side glances Tony shot them, but they misinterpreted his anxiety as one of fear. At this moment, none of them thought that they could sink any lower.
It took a few minutes, but when Tony's good leg was planted on the ground, he childishly reached out to Steve. Though Steve was hesitant, he still obliged Tony because Tony only asked for help if he truly needed it. He gathered his boyfriend in his arms and proceeded to carry the genius into his home. Steve set him gently down on the ground, hoping that Tony would give up on the idea of chatting.
Tony pointed his index finger towards the living room.
Steve shook his head. "Tony, you should get some rest. We can wait until you're better to talk," Steve said gently.
"Hell no. If I let you guys stew, who knows what kind of shit you're going to come up with." Tony drew himself up, "We're doing this now. Everyone in the living room."
The genius didn't really leave much room for argument and slowly limped his way down the hallway to stand before the large plasma TV. Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Bruce followed in.
Tony saw how dejected the three soldiers looked before him; their shoulders slumped, burdened by guilt, and they stared at the ground as if their life depended on it. Bruce just stood slightly to Tony's side to make sure that he didn't topple over.
"You guys are all idiots," Tony started. "If we have to blame someone for what happened, it would be that bitch."
"Doesn't change the fact that it was by our hands that you got hurt, Tony," Steve said softly.
Tony rolled his eyes, "I'd actually take that into account if you were aware of who you were railing on, but seeing how you had absolutely no idea who you were fighting, that point is moot."
Tony shrugged, "And it's not like I let you guys smack me around for fun. I got some shots in too, so if you guys insist on feeling guilty, I'll join in."
"Tony," Clint tried.
"No, you listen to me!" Tony pointed at Clint, poking the archer in his chest. "I was the one who knocked you out with my repulsor. I'm the one responsible for your concussion and you puking your guts out, so as far as I'm concerned, we're even."
He turned to Natasha, "And you're a scary, scary bitch. I'd slap you, but I feel like I'd get prickled by all the thorns. Yes, you stabbed me. Did it hurt? Fuck yes. But you saved me from the helicopter too. If that still isn't enough, you know how you can repay me? Lighten up and try not to kill me next time I drive you nuts. As in right now." Tony spread his arms. "Free shot. I won't even fight back. No? Then you've spared my life again, so your debt to me is cleared."
Then, he rounded on Steve. Without a warning, he threw a hard left hook, striking his boyfriend on his jaw. Steve stumbled back one step, bewildered. Tony was wringing his now sore hand with a satisfied smirk. "Damn, you're hard as a rock! But now we're even too."
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Tony easily cut him off.
"Not enough? Fine. I'm ignoring you for a day and you get to sleep on the couch. That should be punishment enough. If not, I'm more than willing to withhold sex if that's what it takes, though I'd really rather not."
Steve turned a bright red.
And then Bruce was left. "Brucie! You know how much I love you and how you go all green, but I've got a bone to pick with you. I swore I was going to throw a bitch fit if you ended up getting lost, so here it is. Next time you decide to bound off, figure out where the hell you're going first! Jesus! And to think you're a genius too. Such a disgrace to our people, Bruce," joked Tony.
Bruce looked confused, as if he didn't understand why he was being scolded with the rest of the team. He wasn't exactly feeling guilty.
Tony smirked, "I was on a roll," he explained, and Bruce just smiled and shook his head at his friend.
Tony looked at the rest of his family. "Any questions? We all settled? I think we are. Man, I'm famished. Who wants shawarma?"
At that, Clint rolled his eyes. "You do realize that you're leaving blood stains in the carpet, right? And you want shawarma?"
Tony glanced down, frowning at the crimson liquid. "Damn. That's going to be a bitch to get out."
"Did your stitches come out again?" asked Steve, his blue eyes worried. His hands ghosted over Tony's body, he was too scared that he'd hurt something further.
Tony numbly shook his head. With the need to say his piece gone, whatever was holding him up had faded away completely. Needless to say, checking out of the hospital so early and taking a long helicopter ride while still bleeding all over the place was not the brightest idea he'd had.
"Tony?" questioned Steve, watching his lover begin to sway.
"I think…I think I need to sit down…" Tony breathed.
Instantly, there were four pairs of arms helping him down onto the floor. He could hear Bruce saying something and then suddenly, the spies were no longer in sight, only to return in a minute with a kit in their hands.
JARVIS' voice echoed around them. "My scans indicate that Master Stark is merely exhausted. His stitches are still intact and blood loss is at a minimal level."
Bruce sighed in relief, "Good."
The scientist then glared at Tony, seeing how his slightly unfocused black eyes were watching him. "You know, you really have no right to lecture me. Do you remember what I said before we fought with the Enchantress again? I specifically told you not to do anything stupid, and what did you do? Run out onto a battlefield when your stitches were already torn!" scolded Bruce, "And you just had to insist to refuse treatment to come back here. For a genius, you're awfully stupid."
Tony smirked, his head lolling onto Steve's shoulder. "You're…the first to call me…stupid…"
"And I won't be the last," Bruce retorted, "Natasha, make sure you keep pressure on his wound. He can't afford to lose any more blood. Unless someone is willing to give up theirs for him."
"Can I have Steve's?" Tony asked. "I wanna be Superhuman too."
Steve chuckled lightly, "I don't think it works that way, Tony."
Tony closed his eyes, "Too bad…" he mumbled, "Woulda been sweet…"
"Stay awake, Tony," Clint said.
"Why?" Tony whined, making the archer chuckle at him.
"You have to hear our apologies."
Tony waved his hand weakly. "Don't care for them."
"We're sorry all the same."
"And you're all forgiven. We good?"
Clint was the first to crack a smile. "Yeah, we good."
Tony glanced at Natasha who just nodded. He felt a hand stroke his hair and he looked up at Steve's blue eyes.
"Love you, idiot…" whispered Steve as he pressed his lips against Tony's forehead.
Tony smiled and leaned his head into the touch. "Love you, too, Spangles."
There was a sharp prick against the inside of his elbow and Tony knew that he didn't have long before the medication took him over.
His vision was already blurring. Wow, those were some good drugs. He'd have to remember to ask Bruce what he gave him.
Blearily, he looked at his family, specifically at Natasha. He worked his next words through his thick tongue. "Y-you...got my back, right?"
Natasha smiled at him. "Yeah. I got your back."
"We all do," Clint added.
The smile on Tony's face as he passed out was like a light in their dark thoughts.
For the first time since the Enchantress appeared, the Avengers felt as though everything was going to be alright. Even if it took time, they were family, and nothing would ever change that.
They had each other, and that was all that mattered.
To be continued...
I hope you liked it! Again, I have a lot of reserves about this chapter. I'm not great with emotions...but hopefully it's okay. Let me know if there's anything I can do improve it.
I'm thinking of having one more chapter to conclude the entire issue with the Enchantress and then an epilogue, but again, if you guys have any suggestions, I'm open to them. I do like whump. I'm not violent, I swear! Lol!
Anyway, I want to say thanks to all you guys who stayed with me throughout this entire story. I really appreciate all your support and again, I'm sorry for the long wait. Hopefully the next chapters won't take that long, but I'm about to take the GRE, so I have to study really hard. Just giving you all a heads up. I promise I'll finish this story though!
So yeah, please review!
~ Kanae Yuna
