I wish you all very Merry Christmas. :D And I hope you like my present coming in the form of an extra-long chapter. ;) As always, I have to thank my fantastic veta Vida for her amazing work and incredible dedication, in the face of my multiple errors, that would have discouraged someone less determined. ;) This time I send you extra thanks and hugs, because of the very long work you had to do, and the way you nailed it all the same. ^^ Read you soon and I wish you have a superb Christmas.

Evil Hearts Can Love

Chapter 6 - Can't Breathe

"…Tony's unconscious and bleeding…"

Those words disturbed Bruce, breaching his forced calm the way stones do when they fall on still water. And just like the stones, they too, made ripples on their wake, bringing with them heavy worry, piercing pain, and red blood anger. The feelings, sudden and fierce, seeped through his control to reach Hulk… and the monster on his hold.

The yellow one cackled as the horrible emotions infused his being. And he continued laughing maniacally as he weaved them into horrible made fantasies: images of Tony, of his mangled body, dripping sluggish blood from dull metal shards embedded in flesh, of his brown, intelligent eyes, so fiery and full of life, that were, bit by bit, growing glassy, cold, empty, dead…

Such razor-sharp pictures he threw back at Bruce, like they were a spear, laughing raucously all the way. Bruce, as he was intensely trying to control himself, holding on to the notion that Tony ought to be wounded, not dead, didn't see the attack come. And because he had lowered his defenses, the nightmare cut deeper, more painful, than even the monster had hoped it would, shattering Bruces control into what seemed an explosion of shards… unleashing the Hulk in a violent, green wave.

Bruce felt himself sink into the recess of his mind, struggling against the currents of rage and pain, just like every time his green counterpart came out. But this time, when he fell into the darkness, he wasn't alone.

"Welcome back, Bruce."

oOo

Clint was still on the roof of the scorched building, surrounded by thick, clogging smoke, and blackened debris. Bruised torso bare, and covered by soot streaked sweat. When not very far away, an office-block already on fire, exploded, bringing more heat to the already scorching atmosphere. Clint didn´t acknowledge the sudden hot wave, not even when he knew the skin on his back was getting blistered. His only concession to it, was the taking of a more protective stance with witch to protect Tony.

Jaw set, eyes sharp, body taunt. He focused on one single task: stopping the blood flow seeping from his best friends wound and between his fingers, with only his leather vest, as a makeshift compress to help.

Suddenly, Clint heard a familiar roar coming from somewhere in the city.

He raised his head looking for Hulk. But the plane where Bruce had been was invisible in the smoke, and he couldn't see if he was still there.

"Fuck! Bruce, we need you down here!" Bruce was the only one on the team who had the medical knowledge to treat Tony.

"Hawkeye," came Cap's voice from his earpiece, taking his attention away. "We can't come to your aid. The Avengers have been required to help with the retrieval of civilians." Clint could hear the tightness in his voice, one that said he didn't like having to stay down there when one of their teammates was injured. But there where life threatening wounded civilians in there, and Cap was not one to put his feelings before the greater good. Clint knew that. "Bruce is currently not answering our calls," he continued, "but a Shield medical team is on your way." Then his tone took on a much softer cadence, and it was Steve, and not Captain America, who uttered the next words. "Take care of Tony until they arrive."

Clint tightened his grip on the slimy leather of his vest, red with Tony's blood, and ground his teeth together.

"I will, Cap." He could have told him how badly Tony was injured. How haggard he looked– the engineer was ash pale, his breath hitching in his lungs every few seconds like it was going to stop altogether – but didn't. Not because there were wounded civilians down there, some of which were probably worse off than their friend, (he didn't have the qualms Steve did) but because the team didn't need the extra worry, especially not when the monster could return at any given moment. And also because they couldn't have done anything more, even if he had told them.

Not when Tony was so injured.

If the team had known, and moved the engineer trying to take him to the hospital not knowing how they could be further upsetting his wounds… they could have clipped Tony for life… or kill him.

The mere thought felt like ice needles in Hawkeye's chest, taking the place his friend ought to be in. He had very few people who were important to him, very few he cherished.

Losing one of them felt like losing a limb.

Thinking Phil dead for weeks had been horrid enough, and he still hadn't forgiven Fury for it – he doubted he would sometime in the near future. Losing Tony now, on his very arms, was not an option he was about to consider.

Tony groaned, quivering lightly, not awake, but still aware enough to feel the pain.

Clint wished he had a free hand, so that he could brush those limp locks out of his best friends forehead and comfort him. But he could not, not when Tony's life depended on his skill to stop the blood flow, for which he needed his two hands pressing as hard he could the leather vest against the wounds. So he did the only thing he was able to do; he talked to let Tony know he wasn't alone.

"Hey, tin can, it's gonna be ok. You'll see, just a few more minutes and we will be home," he said, fake cheer coating his words.

The engineer coughed, ominously dark crimson blood smearing his mouth, but Clint's voice seemed to settle him a bit.

Barton clenched his jaw, determined to maintain the facade of calm even if Tony was not conscious to see it. He knew, thanks to his own bitter experience, that not being exactly aware didn't mean you could not catch some random information. And if Tony was even a bit conscious of his presence, Clint wasn´t going to unsettle him by being anything other than his usual self.

Sometimes, normal was the most reassuring thing.

So he kept to it, even as his eyes took in how fast his friend was fading.

"Just hold on, Tony, okay?" It was going to be ok, Hawkeye thought. It had to.

"Where the fuck are those medics!?" He thought.

Suddenly, the ground shook.

Something pretty heavy landed near them, and if Clint had not already been on his knees, he would have fallen down. The dark heavy smoke surrounding them like suffocating stagnant water, now parted in tendrils before an enormous green muscled body: Hulk. The largest Avenger uncurled from the crouch he had landed in, growling in anger. He didn't look mad, as was usual, but furious – utterly rabid. His green eerie eyes were alight with a murderous shine, his mouth was set in a snarl, his teeth bared. He didn't seem to recognize Clint – didn't seem to notice anything for that matter – only the broken Man of Iron.

He took a step closer, lines like spider webs spreading in the concrete roof around his feet. Hawkeye tensed, sensing something was very wrong. This wasn't normal. Even if Hulk had been distressed by the state his lover was in, he shouldn't have been this aggressive without an enemy to zero his rage in on.

"Hey, Green Bean, don't worry, ok?" Hawkeye tried to sound friendly, just like any other time they met. Maybe if he could reach his green friend's mind, the situation would not escalate to something life-threatening for Tony. The engineer was not in any condition to be able to take any more distress or damage, even if they weren't intentional. "Tony, here, is a bit injured, but it´s nothing serious. Medical will come soon and make everything okay, yea?" The lie felt as red as his bloody hands. But it was all he had.

Usually Hulk was lots of fun and a really nice guy when he wasn't annoyed by the evil lord of the day – and even then he took lots of delight in smashing the guy in question. But now… when he finally looked at Clint, it was like gazing at green magma.

"TONY HURT!" he thundered, taking another step closer. "HULK WILL PROTECT TONY!" He towered over them, enormous and unmovable; radiating a fury so strong the archer could practically taste it on his tongue, fiery and black like blistering coal. It made his fingers ache for his bow, abandoned only two feet away.

"Yea, yea, big guy." Clint pressed his hands harder against Tony's wound, mind reeling thinking about just how frail Tony was right now, and how Hulk could kill him without even wanting to. He knew Bruce loved Tony, hell, Hulk loved Tony, too, but the engineer was in too critical a state to be able to take any more damage.

"Just don't touch him. Okay?" he asked, almost pleaded, a plastic smile plastered on his face.

An enormous hand smashed him a good dozen meters away.

It was like being hit by a brick wall. There was a loud ringing in his ears and his entire body protested, battered, but Clint rolled over and was on his feet a second later… already late. Hulk had taken Tony off the roof, cradling him with utter care. The broken armor looked terribly small in those huge arms, the man inside it nothing but ragged, so still and so pale… Clint felt his heart tighten. Was Tony even breathing? Clint's fingers ached for an arrow, for something that could stop what he knew was about to happen.

"Big guy…" he rasped, but before he could say anything more, Hulk was leaping away.

Barton put a hand to his earpiece.

"Cap!" It came to life with a static pulse.

oOo

Hulk jumped and leaped, running as fast he could through cars claxons and shouting people.

Horrible anger filled his insides as if flames were devouring him. Only it wasn't the green, bright wave that was his, it wasn't the good, strong and rightful anger. This feeling was like acid, a puke yellow feeling, so very different, not his. It made him want to smash everything on his way; the puny people on the street, the shiny buildings, the Hawk... It felt bad, alien, and utterly wrong.

Hulk felt full of violent rage.

Hulk wanted Tony safe. Tony, who was now on his arms because Hulk felt so furious at Birdie for letting his Metal Man get hurt that he had to take him away before he did more than just smack Birdie out of his way. But Hulk knew the yellow rage was not his. He knew that if he unleashed it on the city, he would later feel bad, and that Bruce would feel even worse. Why did puny Bruce always feel guilty for things Hulk had done? Hulk didn't know, but still didn't want Bruce to feel bad because of him. He didn't want to see the hurt look he knew destroying New York would put on Tony's face.

That's why he needed to go somewhere safe, somewhere he could let the not-his rage out, and have Tony protected, safe. And to Hulk, safe meant away from the city, it meant deep green forest he could camouflage himself in, and caves where he could hide, peaceful places he might dig into and where he could get rid of the yellow feeling he didn't want inside him.

So he ran… until couldn't run anymore.

"Friend Hulk," said Thor, "please, put Anthony down."

oOo

Bruce fell into the recess of his own mind, a place devoid of light, of air, of everything save for a presence he knew all too bad. Had felt its claws mar his mind for a week now, and its deep, growling voice, speak horrible words his every waking hour.

"Welcome Bruce." The creature hissed, and the scientific could hear the vicious smile in it, even if he couldn't see the monster. Bruce remained silent, not willing to play this sick game the creature wanted him to engage in.

In the dark he couldn't tell where it was, but its presence was impossible to not sense, large and venomous, surrounding him like a starving wolf would a lamb.

"Quiet, are we?" it hissed teasingly. "Doesn't matter. You will break. You already did. What will take to have it happen one more time, anyway?"

Bruce didn't let himself think about those words or be distracted, and took a defensive stance, just like Natasha had taught him. But in the shadows, the monster seemed to know where he was way better than Bruce could sense him, and when it leaped Bruce didn't see it coming.

"I have you."

He thrashed, trying to gain freedom, but couldn't loosen the yellow-scaled monstrous claw that closed around his throat, taking away his metaphorical oxygen, since here he didn't actually need to breathe. It took less than a minute for Bruce to acknowledge that he was not about to escape for now, and let himself be pulled up, face to face with the monster, whose shape he could hardly make out in the dark, and waiting for a better opportunity to make his move. Luckily, he was nothing but patient, since he had had to learn to live with Hulk.

"Want to see something, Bruce?" he muttered, and suddenly, Bruce was looking through eyes that weren't his own, as sensing with skin not his, as Hulk ran through streets full of panicked people.

This "window" he had was a very narrow one, a display of incomplete sequences and sensations that came and went, like flashing film fragments. They were barely enough to make something out, but he could recognize some impressions there, mixed with the pictures; sticky blood (not their own) drying on their skin, and the small and frail shape of a metal sell on their arms...

"What? ..." he said, not sure he had it right. "Tony?"

"Yes," the monster hissed in his ear, a whisper full of glee and some other thigh feeling he could not identify.

He had only caught a fleeting glance– inside, he had no control over what he was able to see – but it was enough to grab a picture of Tony.

It was undoubtedly Tony the one on their arms. He had already, in a way, known it, but knowing it was not the same as really seeing the damage done to the armor. He recognized instantly that under a dent such as that were likely broken ribs. An impact enough to indent the armor so, was bound to bring a lot of damage to the body underneath. And this would already look bad for a healthy man, but for Tony, with the Arc reactor taking away the precious space his lungs and heart ought to occupy… the possibility of dying increased astronomically.

He should be in a hospital. Not here, on their arms. Not near the yellow monster.

"Tony…" it was a strangled sound that died very fast. The claw tightened on his throat silencing it.

"Stay quiet and watch," it hissed, but it was not a self-satisfied sound, like before –this one was stagnant and breathy, as if it would degenerate into an outright full growl if it got any louder.

Pain and sharp, horrible guilt, shook Bruce like an earthquake. He should have gone away, left Tony days ago, when the yellow thing started whispering to him; by now he could have been somewhere in India. Maybe Tony would have still been injured in this battle, but at least he would be in medical care, recovering from another brush with death, and just trying to get away fromthe hovering doctor so he could return home.

He wouldn't be dying on their hands.

"Yes, Bruce… Tony is dying. And. That. Is. Your. Fault," the monster nearly sang. "How does it feel being the one to kill the person you love?" His voice was full of hate and resentment. Another claw circled around his chest, enormous and terrible, threatening to bring him pain far more physical.

But Bruce didn't care about that, and struggled fiercely to speak.

"Let… him…go. This – (whatever this was) – doesn't concern him," he managed to gasp between heavy and painful gulps of air. How could it feel as if he could not breathe, when this was but a mental manifestation of his body? Bruce didn't know, didn't care, not when Tony was lying broken and in need of help.

"Not on my hands, Bruce." The devil outright laughed. "Just keep watching."

oOo

Thor was flying in search of Hulk even before the Hawk had finished speaking. Luckily, their green Shield brother was not so far away that he could not find him.

He looked distressed even for afar, more so than Thor had ever seen him be before – he was so furious it was a fearful sight, and so scared, for Anthony? he reeked of it. The Asgardian understood that Hulk's loved one was wounded, and as such, the green warrior ought to be upset. But this looked somewhat extreme. Was it because Anthony was unconscious and could not reassure his lover? He didn't know. But if so, Thor could no doubt assure him and make him understand that Anthony must be brought to the healers, so he could fully recover.

Surely, he could make his Shield brother realize the mistake of taking a wounded Tony away from help.

Thus were his thoughts as he landed before the Hulk with such force that he broke the asphalt under his feet, stopping the big colossus course in the middle of a suburb where the houses had strangely painted walls and were very old – not nearly as tall as the majority of the buildings in New York. The few people that were on the street stopped to look at them, or just hurried back to their homes. Some took out their so-called cells, but Thor didn't take care of the action.

When he saw the state his friend Anthony was in, everything else seemed to disappear, and his heart appeared to shrink inside his chest.

Tony was but a pale, limp, bloody body on his lover's strong arms. One side of the armor was crushed inward, tangled metal shards deeply nailed in his flesh. His face was salt white, drawn and pain filled, even in his unconscious state. His eyes had sunk into their sockets, and around them the skin was floured with dark, mauve smudges, and his hair framed his worn face, plastered to his forehead and cheeks, drenched in sweat.

Dry blood crusted on his lips, which parted in need for air that Tony inhaled in hissing breaths that sounded moist and worrying.

Thor needed but a minute to take it all in, and fully realize why the Hawk had sounded so distraught.

Anthony was in need of proper care, and the Hulk taking him away must have aggravated his state further. "This could kill him," whispered a voice inside his mind that sounded very much like his brother's. Thor refused to acknowledge the truth in those words, but even so, his fingers tightened around Mjolnir.

Hulk growled, as once again that rage that wasn't his spiked at the imposing presence of the shouty blond, demanding he smash his friend. But Hulk fought it, and just rumbled louder, gritted his teeth… until the shouty blond said something he should not have.

"Friend Hulk," he called out, "please, put Anthony down."

It was like putting a flaming torch to a puddle of oil.

"NO!"

It was like a switch had been flipped; yellow filled Hulk's gaze, his heart, his entire being. And suddenly, he remembered that first time they met, and the way the fair-haired god had looked at him, like he was some kind of a beast he wanted to defeat. Like Hulk was a challenge to win. Like he was not someone, but something.

The memory mixed with the present in a swirling vortex of rage, igniting his guts on fire, turning all those imaginary flames into an inferno he couldn't hope to contain – didn't even want to anymore.

"WRROOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!"

Hulk roared like a mountain would if it could, seemed to thunder not only with his lungs and throat, but with his entire body. It was a sound so strong that it was felt more than heard: a terrible vibration that shook New York, and lasted for ten whole seconds. People in the streets stopped to listen and felt their hair stay on end. If someone did scurry home after that, no one blamed him.

As the last echo died out, Hulk charged.

Thor didn't duck.

One reason kept him on place, through the surprise of the attack and the questions in his head; Anthony. His friend's body was hanging lifeless from the Hulk's arm. If he ducked and the Hulk missed the blow, both of them, Hulk and Tony, would crash into the building behind his back. Maybe the blow wouldn't hurt his green Shield brother, but Anthony was another matter entirely. A blow such as that…

And he had another reason to stay too; to take him back.

The golden god strapped Mjolnir to his belt, so he could have his hands free, and braced himself as the green colossus came towards him.

Hulk's massive body slammed against Thor with enough force to knock out a titan. The impact shook up his entire being, and made his muscles spasm. However, the Asgardian god took the brunt of it without wince, feet planted firmly on the road and teeth pressed together, as the impact pushed him some hundred meters back down the street, leaving a trail of broken asphalt and cement at his feet. Then, when the impulse finally eased off and the Hulk reared back for another blow powered by the uncontrollable anger, Thor threw himself, fast as lightning, below the oncoming fist to reach for the arm still pressed securely against the green body, where the Man of Iron was nested.

Without the aid of another hand to better grab his charge, Hulk could not stop Thor when he sneaked an arm around the engineer's waist and took him, leaping away. The roar that split Hulks throat at having his mate taken away, made Thor think about rage consumed dying animals. It was painful to listen to.

He wished there was a better way to do this, but his friend Hulk was not listening, and Anthony had to be carried to the healers before it was too late.

"I'm sorry my friend." he said from his very heart, "Please do not fret, he will be safe." Mjolnir now in hand, he took to the sky with his wounded teammate pressed against his side. But they were only a few meters above the buildings when an enormous chunk of wall was thrown at them with brutal force.

Unable to navigate while embracing an unconscious man, he could only curl his body around him, protecting his wounded friend as best as he could, a second before a brick block hit his back and head with terrible strength.

The collision took the air from his lungs, made his mind blank for a minute, and dislodged Mjolnir from his hand.

They fell down like a rock.

oOo

Steve ran after Thor the second Clint finished his report, Hawkeye and Black Widow not far behind him. But he was the first to arrive, and just as he rounded the corner he saw Thor and Tony plunge to the ground.

His breath hitched as he ran, but he was unable to arrive in time.

"Thor! Tony!"

The asphalt broke as the two bodies impacted with the force of a small meteorite.

Steve hurried to their side through the cement dust.

Sprawled against Thor's chest, a pale, blood-coated Tony, heaved and started to suffocate.

oOo

Tony had been cushioned by Thor when he fell, and shielded inside his wrecked suit; yet, the impact rattled his insides, dragging broken bones and metal shards against his already wounded flesh. The sensation that almost felt like being torn to shreds from the inside, brought him back to awareness and to lack of oxygen in his lungs.

Tony gasped straining to fill them, but he couldn't. They were filled with fluid, which only allowed him to take in very small gulps of air. The suffocating sensation made him remember Afghanistan, and the memories soon led to a panic attack.

Tony started coughing, over and over, frantic. His wheezing sounded humid, with a few short and raspy breaths in between. His consciousness came and went; pain, panic, and blood loss fogging his brain.

"WROARRRR!" He heard a sound, familiar like home, but it sounded wrong – it was too angry, too animalistic… "Big guy...?" he said, barely awake, "Hulk… Bruce…" he could not breathe.

"Bruce… I can´t breathe…"

"Take him to the healers! I will try to calm the Hulk!" Was it that Thor? He sounded upset, and he never sounded upset anymore, not since they all started living together in the tower…

He could not breathe.

"Hulk… Bruce…" He barely managed to shape the names with his bloodied lips, no air in him to make the words audible; they were just coughs… until his lungs seized up, and even the coughing had to stop.

He. Could. Not. Breathe.

"Tony! Breathe, come on, just breathe," Steve urged him, taking in slow deep breaths and encouraging him to follow his lead. But Tony still panicked didn't seem to listen. He was suffocating, unable to quiet his gaps. His eyes closing…

"No, no, just look at me!"

Tony gasped one last time and convulsed.

To be continued.