A/N: A smidgen of harsher language in this one, folks - like one word, maybe two. Just a head's up.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Tony had absolutely no sense of time anymore. His body shivered one moment from the intense cold, then was on fire the next. Delirium, exhaustion, pain, nerves frazzled. One moment felt like a lifetime while the next was gone before he could blink. Time was relative anyway, right? Someone - he couldn't remember who - had said that once. Right? His body and his mind wanted release from the torture but the drugs in his system countered their wishes.
He hardly even noticed the goons had come back and strung him up in the chains again. Didn't notice when his legs couldn't support him and all of his weight fell to the responsibility of the shackles and his wrists. Whatever. They were like an extension of his body at this point. The pain a constant.
"Shut up!"
The order came with a fist to his face, but Tony had no idea what the man was even talking about.
"I said, 'shut the fuck up!'" Another punch.
There was that annoying buzzing in his ear again. Was there a bee in here?
More words. More pain.
He was stuck in an infinity loop - there was no getting off the cycle. For some reason, the thought made him giggle. Or, at least, he thought he giggled.
The pain was intense. Crippling. But at the same time, it was almost like Tony was detached from it. Kind of like he was looking down as his body took beating after beating.
"Enough."
The sharp pains turned into deep aches. Still just as debilitating, but less knife and more burn. The noises were muted, except for that damn bee, but even that was starting to quiet. Tony opened blood-shot eyes to peer blearily at Steve. The man just sat there but Tony couldn't figure out why he wasn't busting out of the chair and helping him.
Tony hung there, uncomprehending anything that was happening around him. He watched Steve's mouth move but nothing was making its way to his ears. "Wha...?"
Fire. That was the only word Tony could think to describe it. His back had been set on fire. And as the flames licked his tender skin hotter and faster, Tony couldn't hold back anymore and screamed.
Tears streaked down Steve's face as he watched his friend die before his eyes.
It had been hours - perhaps days! - since the water episode. Bossman hadn't returned but his lackeys had, periodically, to administer more drugs. Sometimes a shot of fluids or nourishment. Steve wasn't altogether sure.
During this time, Tony moaned and whimpered almost constantly. The only indication to Steve that he was still awake. Still alive. The misery resonating in each sound a constant, steady reminder to Steve that the man needed medical help; he wasn't even sure if Tony was aware of the noises he was making. One moment, he would be shivering, teeth rattling. The next, the man thrashed about trying to escape the heat. There was no relief. Steve didn't know if it was an infection or a side-effect of one of the drugs Tony was given. It didn't matter. If help didn't come soon, Tony was going to die at the hands of these monsters. As it was, Steve - in his more lucid states - could see and hear the watery rasp and the unnatural movement of his chest with each breath.
This session, they had kept him hung up by his arms - Tony doing little to prevent the sharp metal from digging into his flesh, hanging mostly limp, straining his back and shoulders. The henchman of the day had been very bothered by Tony's whimperings and tried to beat them out of him. When that didn't work, Bossman moved on to their newest torture: a flog.
The crack of the multi-headed whip and the resultant scream that flooded out of Tony's mouth brought more tears cascading down the Captain's cheeks. He hadn't meant to, but Steve had been counting the number of lashes. They were currently at seventeen and Tony had already sagged in his bonds.
Blocked by Tony's body, Steve could only see the blood that splashed the walls and floor after each strike, Bossman himself becoming doused in the red that flew off with each strike. From the amount of blood alone, Steve knew Tony's back was a mangled mess of meat. If he had any skin left at all back there after this was over, it would be a miracle. The thought had Steve vomiting for the second time since the torture started.
Closing his eyes and ears, Steve stopped counting and focussed on his body and his restraints. He could feel a little bit of the drug evaporating and flexed his muscles, testing their strength. He heard the fabric holding his head in place tear just a smidgen. Steve opened his eyes to see if his captors had noticed. They had not.
Resolved, Steve tried harder. The sound of metal straining gave him a jolt of adrenaline. Another flex and the chains broke free. Eyes flying open, Steve charged at the nearest goon. He was still a little uncoordinated, but now that he was free, he was determined to succeed. He lunged at Bossman next, seeing a different kind of red - the red of anger - over everything that he had done to Tony.
His bid for freedom didn't last long. The sudden, familiar sensation of dizziness and haziness had him reeling. Opening blurry eyes, Steve saw Bossman smiling wickedly towards him.
"Whoops, we almost missed your scheduled dose, Cap. Wouldn't want that to happen now would we?"
A strange, pathetic sound filtered Steve's brain and he remembered Tony. Stealing a look, he could see the man, pale and defeated, eyes locked onto Steve's. Tears matching his own falling down silently.
They locked his arms and legs back in the chair. The needle he had ripped out during his attack reattached to his arm.
Another noise - a distant noise - filtered through his brain now. Steve noticed alarm register on Bossman's face and a flurry of activity left him dizzy once again, oblivion calling to him. He tried to keep his eyes open as Bossman made his way back to Tony.
One shot. Two shots. Three.
Steve tightened his fist around the vial he had snaked out of Bossman's pocket during his attack. If he knew those sounds correctly, help had finally arrived. He only hoped it wouldn't be too late.