The nausea hits Steve midmorning about a month after Tony gets back from the hunt. He's in the fields, trying to get at a particular stubborn weed, when the familiar rolling in his stomach makes itself known. Steve knows what it is instantly. He's had too many kids to not recognize pregnancy sickness when he feels it. It's a different kind of sickness from anything else he's ever had, and this, what he's feeling now, is definitely it. He slinks out of the field, far enough away for people not to be staring, and falls to his knees, thinking, despite his certainty, "Please don't be a pregnancy. Please be a false alarm." Of course, that's when the cramps start.

After a few minutes of gagging and retching, Steve sighs shakily and hauls himself back up. If this is a pregnancy, and Steve's almost sure of it, it seems like it's going to be a bad one. He should have known not to be lured into a false sense of security by how relatively easy being pregnant with Carol was. He starts back to the fields, wondering when he and Tony could have even made this baby. Then he recalls the night Tony returned from the hunt, and how comforted Steve himself had been by the feeling of Tony's come leaking out of him. He hadn't even realized what that meant, at the time. Boy are they stupid to have let that happen.

He powers through the rest of the morning, ignoring the cramps and the shakes he gets periodically. By lunch time, though, he's so dizzy he thinks he might fall over on the way back to the tents. He nearly does fall when he bends to pick up Carol, but catches himself just in time. He's got all four kids today, because Tony has to work on some delicate experiment that needs all his attention. It's better, though, this way, because he can count on Wade and Peter to not let Jan get lost or anything, since Steve's not feeling well enough to pick her up, too.

They go back to the tent first, before lunch, because Steve thinks he's still got some of the nausea herbs from the last pregnancy that he can dig out. He sets Carol in her pram and tells the kids to wait a minute, then sits down heavily on his bedroll. Another wave of cramps hits just then, though, worse than the last set, and Steve thinks, vaguely, maybe lying down will help.

The next thing he knows, Wade is shaking his shoulder, eyes wide and scared. "Papa?" he asks, and Steve wants to reach up, comfort his son, let him know everything is going to be fine, but his head is heavy and his arms won't cooperate. Then the cramps come again, and all Steve can do is curl up on himself and whimper. He vaguely registers Wade instructing Peter to "Watch Papa," and taking off at a run, but it's all background to the pain.

Steve blinks, and Pepper's standing above him, saying "You're bleeding, Steve!" panicked-like, then "Wade, go get Bruce and then your daddy, okay? Tell them it's important." She reaches out a hand to touch Steve's forehead, and her hand feels so cool that he can't help but to lean into it. He wishes Tony was here.

"He's coming, buddy, just hang on," Pepper says, and either she read his mind or he said it out loud, Steve can't tell, but either way, it's that thought, that Tony's coming, that keeps him going when the pain comes again.

Tony's just heading back to the fire for lunch, exceptionally pleased with the way the morning went, when he sees a kid running his way, full speed. It's Wade, he knows, from the jerky movements of his running, and it strikes Tony as extremely odd that Steve would just let Wade come out here by himself. Of course, then Wade gets close enough to see his face, and Tony tell he's crying. He kneels down and catches the boy in his arms, hugging him.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asks, as Wade snuffles into his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Papa's sick," Wade cries, and Tony's breath leaves him in a painful exhale.

"Okay," he says, calm for Wade's benefit, but scared to death inside. "Alright, hold on, baby." He clutches Wade to his chest, stands, and takes off as fast as he can manage toward the tent while still keeping Wade safe in his arms. When he gets there, he sees Bruce outside, which is so not a good sign. He wants to push past him, go inside and see Steve, but he forces himself to stop, set Wade down. Even if it's bad news, he needs to hear it.

"It's a miscarriage," Bruce tells him at once.

"What?" Tony asks, completely shocked. "But he's not even-" and then of course, he remembers the hunt and what he did that night, what he forgot to do. This is all his fault. Steve's sick, maybe dying, probably in terrible pain, and it's all Tony's fault. "Will he be okay?" he asks, shakily.

Bruce hesitates, and then says, "Probably. I've done everything I can for him, given him something for the pain and to bring his fever down, but now all we can do is wait. He's strong, though, his chances are good."

Tony nods. It's not a guarantee, but he'll take it. "Can you and Pepper watch the kids?" he asks and Bruce nods.

"It's taken care of. We'll look after them."

"Thanks," Tony says, and goes into the tent quickly before he loses his nerve. Steve's lying on the bedroll. He looks pale, but his face is fever flushed and he's shivering. He looks over when Tony enters, which is a good sign, Tony thinks.

"The baby?" he slurs, and Tony shakes his head. He crosses the room and kneels down by Steve's side, takes his hand.

"Just you and me," he tells him, stroking Steve's hair with his free hand. "But we'll be okay."

Tony's not sure he believes that, though. This is his fault, and he knows it. He was so stupid that night! How could he have been so dumb? If Steve survives this, and he has to, has to because Tony won't be able to live without him, then Tony will never make that mistake again. He makes a promise to himself, right here and now, that this is it, no more kids, not ever. Steve's not going to die, like Tony's mother did, giving birth to a child he'll never know. They've already got plenty of kids, after all, great ones, and even if Tony feels sad for those kids that will never exist now, well, Steve's the love of his life, and there's nothing, absolutely nothing, that could make Tony hurt him. Never again.

"I love you," Tony tells him. Steve's dozing, exhausted from the pain and Bruce's herbs, so he doesn't answer. It's okay, though. Tony knows Steve loves him, too. Steve loves him and he's going to be okay, and they have four beautiful kids together. That, that is enough for any man.

When Steve wakes up, the first thing he registers is the aching all over his body. His arms are like lead and his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Even his legs hurt, for some reason. And of course, his belly is still cramping, but it feels lazy, like his body's gotten what it wants and now it's given up. There was a baby in there, he thinks dully. It was there yesterday, and it's not today. He doesn't remember much of what happened last night, it's mostly blurs of pain and echoes of soothing words. He does remember, though, being told he was having a miscarriage. That means the baby's gone, and Steve killed it. He doesn't feel much of anything at the thought, not yet, but it'll come, he's sure.

He opens his eyes and sees he must have been moved to the healing tent, at some point, though he doesn't remember that happening. Tony's beside him, probably has been all night, clutching at his hand and looking tired. He smiles sadly when Steve catches his eye.

"Hey," he says, and touches Steve's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Steve admits, then adds, without quite meaning to, "I'm sorry."

"It was not your fault," Tony tells him firmly. "You didn't do anything wrong, Steve. You didn't even know you were pregnant. Bruce said these things just happen, sometimes. But it wasn't your fault."

Steve nods, for Tony's benefit, but he doesn't believe it. This was his baby, his responsibility, and he couldn't keep it alive. He knows why, too, why it died. It was because he didn't want it. The baby must have known that Steve couldn't handle a fifth child, and it did what he wanted and went away.

"Okay," he says, hoping it'll make Tony drop the subject.

Tony must be able to tell Steve's faking, though, because he keeps going. "Steve," he says, reasonably. "What could have even done to this baby to hurt it? You didn't drink poison, or fall off a horse. You didn't do anything. It just happened, all on its own."

His calm tone makes Steve so mad, for some reason. How dare he be so cool and rational whenever Steve just killed their baby. He should be furious with Steve. He should yell and scream. He should blame Steve, because Steve knows it was his fault, knows it with everything in him.

"Don't you understand?" he asks, voice shaking, and can feel himself tearing up. He hates crying, absolutely hates it, and he rubs angrily at his eyes, trying to keep the tears back. "I wanted this to happen! I didn't want to be pregnant and the baby somehow knew. It knew I didn't want it, and that's why it's dead. It's all my fault." Fighting the tears is a losing battle, so Steve just lets his head fall back onto the bedroll and allows them to come.

"Steve." Tony sounds pretty choked up, too. "You didn't do this. Not wanting another baby is not the same thing as wanting the baby to die. I mean, think about it: if you wanted the baby gone, wouldn't you be happy right now? But you're not, you're sad, and hurt, and that's because you loved this baby, and you wanted it, whether it was planned or not. You would never hurt our baby, Steve."

"I don't want to talk about it, anymore," Steve tells him, rolling onto his side so his back's to Tony. He's tired and sore, and he knows he killed this baby, no matter what Tony says. And even if he didn't kill it, he still couldn't keep it alive. Either way, it's dead and it's all his fault.

"That's fine," he hears Tony say, then feels the bedroll shift as Tony lies down behind him. After a moment, Tony's got his arms wrapped around Steve, just like two nights ago, and the night before that. Just like nothing's wrong at all, like their baby isn't gone and Steve isn't to blame. "We can talk later. I'm going to keep telling you this, Steve, until you believe that it wasn't your fault. I'll say it as many times as I have to, for as long as it takes. I love you."

"I love you, too," Steve says, and even if nothing else is okay, that is still the truth.