Thank you very much to Naemir and Kae Richa for your reviews! You're splendid, as always.

And many thanks to the rest of you as well, for your patience with me. Unfortunately I have to ask you to have a bit more. I got in a rut last month and haven't written much for Jaeger Days, so it'll probably be a couple weeks until the next chapter. Don't worry about abandonment, I will finish this. It'll just take a bit longer than usual.

Disclaimer: I own nothing under copyright.

Chapter 12: Sleeping Beauty

"Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can."

― Nicholas Sparks, At First Sight

Steve glanced up when the door opened, and smiled grimly when he saw the doctor again.

"Any changes?" Doctor Kavanagh asked. She began the usual tests, checking vitals and looking for physical signs of ailments, scribbling on her clipboard as she did so.

"Not that I can see," Steve answered. Instead of going back to his book, he looked at Tony just as he had so many times before.

Weeks without movement had taken their toll on the genius. He was being fed through a tube and hydrated with an IV, and it was showing; a physique that had always been slim was rapidly going straight to skeletal. His skin looked papery and ashen, and he hadn't woken in days.

Not for the first time, Steve cursed his terrible timing. Whether it was being put through a CAT scan or trying to find food or turning in paperwork, he was always out of the room in those few minutes Tony spent awake. It was never long enough for him to get back and see those beautiful brown eyes.

"Same old, same old," Doctor Kavanagh said, writing it on her clipboard. Instead of wishing him a good day and stepping out, she dawdled this time. The way she chewed on the inside of her cheek and fidgeted with her pen spoke of a thought that wasn't good but wouldn't leave her alone.

"Is there anything you need?" Steve asked tiredly. The last time he had slept well was the night before Insurrector. The bed they let him use here was uncomfortable and over the years he had gotten used to having Tony's warm body curled up behind him. It felt wrong to sleep alone.

Hesitantly, the doctor asked, "Is it possible that Ranger Stark doesn't want to wake up?" The way she grimaced looked like she had just said a particularly violent oath, but was determined to go through with it.

The thought hadn't struck Steve. "I don't want to think so," he said, looking back at Tony, "but it's possible." Why that would be the case, he wasn't so sure about.

"Sorry, it was a stupid thought," Doctor Kavanagh said, shaking her head before she strode out the door.

When the door clicked closed, Steve sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead beside Tony's hip. The other man was cold to the touch these days. It was like they were losing him one day at a time and helpless to do anything about it.

The scans had all come back slightly damaged, but nothing that they hadn't seen before. More akin to a concussion than the lesions that other solo pilots had suffered. There were no tumors, no holes in the brain, nothing that should keep Tony asleep this long. He should have been awake before Steve was.

And oh, that was a memory Steve hadn't wanted to revisit.

When he crashed into the ice back in 1945 he had broken almost his whole body, only his heart and brain mostly functional. By the time SHIELD dug him out, it had all healed except for where they had to rebreak a few of the bones in his face to set them right. For that, he had mostly been out cold, so to speak.

This time Steve felt every second of his skull knitting itself together under the bandages. According to the doctors he should have died before Tony even got them back to the shatterdome (and he was going to have words with his boyfriend about that stunt) but had stayed stable throughout. Which should have been impossible, since they could see his damn brain.

As it was, he had been released a week later without any negative effects. No problems with mental processes, motor control, anything. The only sign Steve had his head sliced open was some scarring and that he needed to regrow some of his hair.

Nat and Clint had been able to stay for that week, as the four had put each other down as next of kin, but after that were shipped straight back to Japan.

That was three weeks ago. Since then the scars faded and his hair started growing out again. To make the unevenness a little less obvious he had taken an electric razor and given himself a buzz cut, which he knew Tony would murder him for.

If he ever woke up. It seemed less and less likely with each day.

The day passed without a single sign of wakefulness. Near night time, Tony's breathing started stuttering.

Steve immediately pressed the call button and for good measure shouted out the door, "We need help in here!" His heart pounded in his chest for the few seconds he had to wait, head swiveling from side to side hopefully.

A nurse came rushing. "What's happened?" he asked in an English accent, sliding past Steve. The minute the nurse saw what was happening, he tried to wake Tony to no avail. That avenue tried, the nurse pushed a button on his walkie-talkie. "We need a doctor in 257D, stat. Patient's breathing is coming unevenly and there are no signs of wakefulness," he reported.

Steve heard a crackly voice answer in the affirmative. All he could do was watch the nurse check vitals and perform small tests. Last time he felt this helpless, he was watching Tony take that nuke through the portal over New York all those years ago.

Doctor Kavanagh came running in and within ten minutes a respirator was helping Tony breathe.

The sight was more than Steve could take; he slumped onto the bed he had been loaned and his throat closed around a sob. That was too close. And unless Tony woke up soon, it would only get worse.

A hand settled on his shoulder. "Are you alright, sir?" the nurse asked kindly, "Is there anything I can get you?" Honest blue eyes peered down at him from a thin face.

"Maybe some tissues," Steve requested. Each word felt like it was coated in sandpaper as it tore out of his throat.

The hand left, but soon returned with a box of tissues.

"Thanks," Steve said, taking one and blowing his suddenly stuffy nose on it.

"Call if there's anything else I can do," the nurse replied, and with a last pat to Steve's broad shoulder he left.

For a moment Steve took care of wiping away his tears and clearing his nose. Once the tissues were in the rubbish, he finally looked up to see that Doctor Kavanagh was still there. "What's happening?" he asked hoarsely.

The doctor's normally sunny face was one of dread. It was the same look Clint had when he just figured something out and felt so stupid for not knowing before, but wished he wasn't right. Admittedly the message was complex, but he had experience in knowing it when he saw it.

"What is it?" Steve asked again.

When the doctor spoke, her voice was hesitant. That was completely unlike her. "Well, when I got Ranger Stark as a patient I watched the last battle to see exactly what happened, and the last he heard of you was that you had no brain activity. After that he piloted solo, and then extended it as long as he could until the emergency crew got to you. I thought he'd heard them say you were still alive, but maybe…" she trailed off.

It was easy to put the pieces together. "You think he was trying to kill himself," Steve said, and each word left a foul taste in his mouth

Doctor Kavanagh's face twisted. "I think that when he heard you were basically brain dead, he couldn't stand the idea of living without you. If I'm right, there's nothing wrong with his body that's keeping him under. He's dying of a broken heart," she told him gently.

A hysterical laugh left Steve before he could control it. He squeezed his eyes closed in pain. "But I'm right here…" he whispered.

"And I think you should stay here," Doctor Kavanagh told him, back to her no-nonsense demeanor, "Talk to him, sit on the bed with him, hold his hand, anything to impress that you're here. Doctor's orders."

That was a treatment Steve could get on board with. It was nothing he wasn't already doing. "Yes, ma'am," he said automatically.

"At ease, soldier. I'll be back in an hour to see how he's reacting to the ventilator," Doctor Kavanagh said with a sliver of a smile before she left.

The minute the door closed, Steve grabbed his boyfriend's hand and pressed the lax palm to his cheek. "Please Tony, please come back. I'm right here," he pleaded.

There was no answer, but Steve wasn't going to let that stop him. He was going to fight tooth and nail for Tony. Any other alternative was unthinkable.

"Remember that one time I tried to go on vacation but everyone kept popping in? That was messed up. You all were lucky I was getting bored with peace and quiet, or I would've ripped you a new one," Steve began. He talked long into the night.

It was comfortable in the darkness. Only a little bit of that light was left, but Tony wrapped himself further around it. He had to protect what he had left of Steve.

If he lost that...

Sometimes he thought he could hear Steve's voice. But that couldn't be right.

No, he wasn't dead yet. That had to be a delusion his brain designed to keep him going. Not for the first time he was his own worst enemy.

Tony sank deeper.

The moment Steve woke up from his catnap, he knew he wasn't alone. Between the beeps of the monitors and humming of the ventilator there was no out of place noise, but something still wasn't right. Immediately he was on red alert.

Without moving, he gathered as much information as he could. Nothing was wrong that he could consciously sense, but he knew without knowing.

"Who are you?"

Steve's heart thundered in his chest at the familiar voice. "Bucky?" he asked hopefully.

The answer was in a growl from a dark corner of the room by the door. "I said, who are you?"

It was finally time to face the music. Slowly, Steve sat up on the hospital bed and then got to his feet. He turned around to face Bucky, the gleam of silver eyes from the corner almost making him smile. "It's a very long and difficult story, and I know you won't believe me at first," he said carefully, "My name is Steve Rogers."

As fast as Steve himself could move, Bucky was across the room and slamming him into the wall.

It was an automatic reaction to fight back, kneeing and punching until they were silhouettes in front of the window. Each examined the other critically, watching for threatening movements.

"You're not Steve Rogers. He died in 1932," Bucky hissed. The rage in his eyes was both heartwarming and hair raising.

"We used to build forts in the living room with blankets and the couch cushions," Steve blurted out, "and your mom made the best apple pie in Brooklyn, and you learned Gaelic to understand my mom when she would tease you." It was one of the first things he could think of to prove this was really him. That was how his Bucky had proved he remembered, it should hopefully work here too.

It was obvious when the words penetrated Bucky's thick skull. "Stevie?" he asked hopefully.

Those two syllables and all the emotions within nearly broke the captain's heart. "Yeah," he confirmed with a small smile, "It's me, Buck. An alternate version, but still me."

Before either really knew what was going on, they were hugging. It felt good to have his friend right there again, safe and loved.

Suddenly everything hit. This is Bucky but not his Bucky, and he was far from home in an alternate universe. The man he loved wouldn't wake up from his coma because he was stupid and stubborn, and they were fighting off giant monsters at what felt like every hour of the day now. Friends were being made and lost in the same breath, and celebrity status was lonely. Before he knew what he was doing, Steve burst into tears.

Obviously startled, Bucky tensed up. But when the blonde tried to withdraw, he wouldn't allow that and started rubbing the broad back with his flesh hand. Soothing noises slipped out, probably without him even noticing.

A choking noise from the bed only made the sobs come harder, but Steve looked anyways. What he saw astounded him.

Tony was flailing about on the bed, pulling at the tubes wildly. Wide brown eyes darted all around the room before settling on Steve and Bucky, and he began pulling the tubs out of his nose and mouth with more determination.

The idea that dear lord, Tony was awake nearly paralyzed Steve with relief. He pressed the call button on the side of Tony's bed, able to find it by memory after all this time, and slid onto his bed.

Bucky tried sneaking off, freezing when his arm was caught by a strong grip.

"Tony, stop pulling at the tubes. Bucky, you're not going anywhere," Steve ordered, unwilling to let either of them go right now.

The door opened and that same nurse with the ponytail walked in. When he saw that Tony was awake, his grin could have lit up the room. "Just a mo', I'll get the doctor," he told them, and zoomed away like he was on rocket skates.

Before anything of note could be said, especially by Tony, the room was full of nurses and doctors. The tubes were taken out of Tony's nose and mouth (with the night shift doctor glaring at him the whole time for pulling on them) and tests of his level of consciousness performed. All of them were passed with flying colors and Tony complaining the whole time.

"What woke you?" asked the doctor, amazed, when he realized that there was no mental damage that he could detect.

"Steve went and got in a fight without me," Tony snorted, and his eyes promised death, "Of course I was going to wake up. Can't let him get his fine ass handed to him." He had to be joking. There was no sign of a joke.

The idea that he could have woken his boyfriend anytime simply by getting in a fist fight made Steve want to both laugh and cry. It would have been harder to do it in the hospital room in any other circumstance but...

Bucky seemed similarly amazed and confused. When the doctor and nurses looked at him, he shrank into himself and looked ready to bolt.

"Should I call security?" asked the nurse expectantly. His hand hovered over his walkie talkie.

"No, it was a misunderstanding. Everything's fine now," Steve assured them with his best 'Captain America smile of honesty'.

Though they all looked dubiously at the men, the staff took them at their word. "No more fights inside the hospital," the doctor reprimanded, before going back to Tony. He immediately ordered every test on the planet to see if his patient's brain was damaged, and wheeled him out within minutes.

The moment they were alone in the room, both Steve and Bucky sighed and slumped over onto the guest bed. "I guess I should thank you for trying to kill me," the former said dryly.

"Is your life always like this?" Bucky asked, eyeing the door warily.

"We're jaeger pilots, and before that we were superheroes. This is mundane," Steve answered.

The noise Bucky made was humored and dismayed at the same time. "I knew you were a stubborn punk, but this is beyond what I ever imagined," he said, shifting his gaze to the man beside him, "So how did you live long enough to turn into a damn buffalo?" Was the look in his eyes frightened?

"In our universe, the experiment I signed up for was what the enemy was trying to recreate with the Winter Soldier experiments," Steve answered, confirming what his friend was really asking.

Bucky's expression looked like he had been punched in the gut by the Hulk. "You went through that too?" he asked in a horrified whisper.

"Kind of. It was a little less… sadistic for me. I went into it willingly, as a special project for the US Army, so there was no actual torture or any mind wiping. Just the serum, electricity, and then this," Steve said, gesturing at his body. He'd never say how much it hurt. At least to Bucky, he knew he didn't need to.

This shook Bucky almost more than finding out an alternate version of his friend was here and alive. He paced restlessly within the confines of Steve's hold on him, not even attempting to shrug the hand off.

In the near silent room, Steve's phone rang.

Both men jumped at the sudden noise. When they realized that it was benign, Bucky let out a few embarrassed giggles and Steve sighed at himself, letting his friend go for the moment. He answered the phone. "Rogers speaking," he said.

"We have a Category Four headed for New Guinea, and Mammoth is out of service. Any change with Stark?" the LOCCENT officer's familiar voice was unwelcome.

"He's awake and in testing now," Steve confirmed. The reminder made that happy bubble in his chest grow again. Everything would be fine now.

"How soon can you get him to the shatterdome?" the LOCCENT officer asked seriously.

"Not within a month, at the least," Steve said strongly, ignoring Bucky startling at the sudden change in his tone, "He's lost too much muscle. Him getting into a jaeger right now will kill both of us."

The tap on his shoulder was unexpected. "I can do it," Bucky volunteered.

"Hold the phone," Steve ordered. He covered the mouthpiece and stared at this alternate version of his old friend in disbelief.

"You need two pilots to drive one of those things, right?" Bucky said uncomfortably, "We both have the Serum, so brain damage won't be an issue with me. I can do it." His eyes blazed with the need to do something.

When Steve thought about it for a few seconds, it made sense. But then there was the question of melding minds… "You know that we'd be sharing each other's memories?" he asked cautiously. He knew he could take any memories the Winter Soldier could throw at him. Maybe not without bawling like a baby, but he could. The question was if Bucky could stand having his mental privacy invaded like that (again).

Though he was pale, the former assassin nodded. It was all the answer needed.

Steve wasn't sure about this, but he put the phone up to his ear anyway. "Don't worry about Tony. I have a volunteer copilot," he told LOCCENT, "We'll be there in ten." He hung up without waiting for the argument that he knew would come if he gave them the option.

In a hurry, they left the hospital room. The only stop between there and the shatterdome was the nurse's station to leave a message for Tony about where they'd gone. Otherwise it was just hopping on Steve's motorcycle and parking it.

Once in the shatterdome, everyone was everywhere. While LA wasn't being directly attacked (again) any attack made every shatterdome on the planet go nuts. At least those that were still operational, Steve thought with a scowl.

That seemed to be enough to ward off any questions about Bucky. The man followed in his footsteps like a shadow, silent as the grave. That, at least, was familiar.

Only when they were reporting in did someone have the guts to ask. "You do remember that the last guy besides Stark you got hooked into…?" the Marshal asked, dark eyes glued to Steve's.

"I remember," he said tersely, "This is James Barnes. He was treated with the same stuff I was. No risk of brain damage."

It seemed to be enough for her. "Very well. Suit up, Patriot is in the usual spot," Marshal Vilaro told him. She then went back to barking orders at LOCCENT, who scurried around like rats at the slightest glance from her.

"Let's go," Steve muttered, and pulled his friend back through the doors. Even a month after the last time he was in here, his feet automatically went into the suit up room.

The privacy of not needing to be screwed into the drive suits was more welcome than ever. It gave Steve a little time to explain the mechanism to get into the altered suit and how to steer. The idea that he was qualified to explain something so high tech was more than a little strange.

Through it all, Bucky nodded along and did each step as he was instructed. When the plates began to crawl up his body, he went tense and his expression turned to one of alarm. "Steve, can you hear me?" he asked over the comms, voice hard.

"Loud and clear," Steve answered reassuringly. Even after all these times it was strange to have the suit walk him into the conn pod and fasten itself in.

JARVIS's voice rang through the conn pod. "If you'll pardon my asking, where is Sir in all of this? He is still your pilot partner, correct, Captain Rogers?" the AI asked, ever polite.

"He's still in the hospital, JARVIS. This is this universe's Bucky. He volunteered to be my copilot for now," Steve introduced the two, "Bucky, this is JARVIS. He's an AI that Tony made. He runs the jaeger and the suits." As he spoke he did the usual last minute checks, finding everything as it always was. No matter what universe he was in, Stark Industries worked fast.

"Hello," Bucky said bravely. His voice was uncertain, probably wondering if he had gone around the bend while in captivity.

"It is good to meet you, Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS said, "I am familiar with our home universe's version of you. Please refrain from trying to convince Mr Stark that the Nazis rode dinosaurs into battle. I doubt that he would fall for it a second time."

Though he obviously didn't know what to think, Bucky said, "I won't?"

Steve couldn't help his laughter. Oh, the good old days… Ever since he had gotten his Bucky back, they'd told "back in my day" stories and tried to convince everyone else of the most outlandish things they could think of. Nazis riding dinosaurs was the least of it.

"Last chance to back out, boys," the LOCCENT officer offered.

"Just get it on with," Bucky told him roughly.

Before he changed his mind, Steve mentally finished. "Let's lock and load," he said more cheerfully than he felt.

"Preparing for neural handshake," LOCCENT said.

In a form of last minute tutorial, Steve told his friend, "The memories are going to fly by, yours, mine, and probably some of Tony's. Don't latch on, just let them pass. It'll be over before you know it." Hopefully that would be enough. They were out of time.

The soothing British tones that JARVIS was programmed with took over then. "Engaging in pilot to pilot protocol in five… four… three… two… one," he said serenely, "System initiated."

Memories rushing by felt like being at home. Almost. Like being in in his home but someone had rearranged the furniture while he was away, Steve thought with a smile. The first parts of their memories were the same, just from two different angles, a testament to it really being them. It separated at his funeral, a shabby little service with only his mother, Bucky, and a priest in attendance.

The idiot actually volunteered to fight for Britain when the war began and he did, hard as he had back home or maybe even harder before he was captured by the Nazis. Then the experiments came, willing and unwilling. The table, and the pain, and name rank number name rank number nameranknumber for years and years, until they finally found the key to breaking Bucky Barnes. Dead faces and punishments alike flew by, interspersed with cryofreeze when he wasn't necessary.

The emotional pain Bucky was in almost made Steve want to scream. Not just at his own memories but at those of his friend from an alternate universe, the physical agony and then the loss of him, and then the finding only to be nearly killed. The knowledge that he learned from jaeger training and as a pilot was absorbed and carefully documented before finally, they came to with matching gasps.

Having someone besides Tony in his head was strange. It was like wearing a different pair of shoes than the ones that he was used to. They fit but felt off.

Through the mental link, Bucky was on the verge of a panic attack. All that raced through his mind was fear and danger and how can he get out PLEASE DON'T PUNISH ME-

Carefully, Steve reached out with his mind. At the same time as he mentally offered a hug, another part of him thanked Tony for teaching him how to bring someone down who was both connected to his mind and panicking. The lesson was harsh but coming in handy again.

Bucky realized who was in his brain and rushed to meet the other man. The mental hug he got was strong, almost overwhelming in its relief and joy. "It's really you. This is amazing. You're amazing. Thank you."

Confused and awed, Steve jerked. Words weren't a usual part of his mental communication.

Immediately Bucky offered an apology. "Sorry, punk."

"Don't worry. I'm fine. Need to adjust." Steve did his best to send the words over instead of feelings and images.

In return, he was given a confirmation. This time it was in feeling.

A resolution to work on this whole communication thing was agreed on even as JARVIS pronounced, "Neural link is strong and holding Captain, Sergeant." No matter that it was expected, the actual pronouncement was still surprising and gratifying.

"I'll have you know I got to Captain, thanks," Bucky corrected cheekily.

Does that mean we're the Captains America? Steve couldn't help the thought.

The laughter he got from it was loud and clear, both mental and out loud.

"Right hemisphere, calibrating," Steve said on autopilot and raised his right arm.

Bucky's right arm also drifted up. Prompted by his friend, he echoed, "Left hemisphere, calibrating."

Together they made a salute. Not quite as precise as with Tony, but it was clear enough.

"The kaiju is a Category Four headed for New Guinea, code named Bonesquid. You and Striker Eureka are assigned to take it out. Don't do anything stupid, Rogers. You've got a rookie with you," Marshal Vilaro said sternly.

The idea that Bucky could be a rookie at anything was more than a little humorous. It was the truth, however, so they agreed.

That didn't stop them from using the ride over to argue about what the plural form of Captain America. Was it Captain Americas? Or Captains America? Or was there no plural and only one in existence at a time? By the time they got to New Guinea, all they had agreed on was that this argument was useless and anything more than two would be called a squad, unit, or some other military term, depending on the size of the group.

Striker Eureka was already on the scene, chopping at it and whaling on the kaiju. The thing was tall and skinny for a kaiju, with a long head and what looked like a spikes on its back. All around the fight, destruction reigned.

Gratitude that he had stayed near the Atlantic flared up from Bucky.

That much, Steve agreed with him on. "You ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," Bucky returned.

"Iron Patriot, disengaging transport," Steve called.

"Transport disengaged," JARVIS reported. "Striker Eureka, calling." The familiar icon rattled at a corner of the screen.

The pilots crouched to absorb the impact of landing. It still rattled them.

"Put them on," Steve ordered as they began walking.

The Australian accent was familiar, even if the voice was deeper than Steve remembered. It had been years since he last saw Chuck, he thought fondly, even as the boy (now a man) shouted at him that, "Finally you get here, damn Americans!"

Far from being insulted, Steve laughed. "Not our fault we're so far from New Guinea," he teased.

"You're out of the hospital already?" Herc asked between grunts of effort as his jaeger punched the kaiju repeatedly.

"Tony's still in the hospital. I've got Bucky Barnes in here with me," Steve corrected, even as he and his partner waded into the fight and began busting bones. "Bucky, this is Chuck Hansen and his dad, Herc, and their jaeger Striker Eureka." Holding a conversation while fighting was second nature for Steve by now, between piloting and being an Avenger. He proved it when he brought out the stun spikes to add more hurt to the punches.

Less used to this, but capable of handling many things at once, Bucky grunted out, "Hey."

Now that they had established a rapport, both teams got down to business. Striker's missiles had all been used up and the thing was faster than anything either of them had ever encountered before. It led to a lot of near misses and howls of frustration.

Finally, Steve got angry and ordered JARVIS to, "Unibeam the bitch until we can't."

Bonesquid wasn't nearly as thick skinned as Insurrector. And at this range, it wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the weapon that no kaiju ever expected. After all, the center of the chest was usually an instant kill zone for jaegers because their power plants were housed there.

This time, the kaiju reached for the light at the center of a jaeger's chest- and it got fried. Instead of swiping at an engine, it had gotten too near to a fatal weapon. With a shriek it tried to back away, only to be stabbed repeatedly by Striker. Less than a minute later, the unibeam had done its job. A hole was blasted straight through the middle of Bonesquid, and it wobbled then fell hard enough to cause a minor earthquake.

Amazement and pride filled Bucky, and mixed with Steve's own elated relief. Both men laughed with the force of it, unable to stop themselves. Who said that the Winter Soldier couldn't save the world?

Warm, familial affection blazed through Steve. This wasn't his Bucky, but this was still a Bucky. No matter what universe, a Bucky was always a brother.

Shyly, Bucky nudged him back with similar sentiments. "Not mine but still mine."

Neither could see it past their helmets, but both knew they were grinning sappily at each other.

"Now that that's over and done with, I've got a question for you, Rogers," Chuck said, panting.

Steve made a noise to tell him to continue.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" Chuck demanded petulantly.

Both of Iron Patriot's current pilots couldn't help laughing again. The world was slowly going back to how it should be. Kind of.