A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Still trying to figure out some of the intricacies of FF (it's been a busy week) so sorry I haven't gotten back individually. This is also the part where I say that I have no great medical knowledge, but some research went into this. If I got it wrong, either let me know or pretend. Whatever floats your boat.
Also, there's this little minion I know that is turned the big 5 today and my presence has been requested for the weekend. I don't know how any of yours' interactions with 5-year-olds go, but mine consist of basically being a jungle-gym / life-size toy / pillow during movies so the odds of me getting another chapter out before Sunday night / Monday is zip. I will be mentally working out how this story turns out in the meantime (and possibly sneaking off to go see Civil War? Yeah, fat chance :-/ ), so enjoy your weekend all!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
The walk back to the jet was slow. Tony tried to help, he really did, but his body just wouldn't cooperate. Both assassins admired his attempts anyway. He was silent throughout the journey, but showed signs of lucidity and awareness when Natasha talked with him. Never with Clint though.
Clint had called ahead to ask Thor if he could fly Tony out as well. After listing off some of his injuries, though, Thor and Bruce both agreed that it would be better if they got him out on foot. Flying tended to put a strain on Thor's human counterparts.
Finally reaching the back hatch of the plane, Bruce helped guide them to a gurney, indicating they should lay him propped up to help his breathing.
"Bruce," Clint softly called the man's attention. Bruce turned questioningly. Clint didn't want to say anything - it was bad enough looking at it - but in consideration to Tony, he motioned for Bruce to check it out for himself.
There was a soft intake of breath as the Doctor took in the damage. Clint glanced back to see Bruce pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn't blame him. Tony's back was a crisscross of red; strips of flesh hanging off haphazardly - almost as if he had been filleted with a knife, muscles exposed underneath. In one spot, the white of bone could be seen peaking through the gruesome site as well. Clint could see the Doc trying to keep the Hulk at bay.
"Doc, what do we do?" He watched as the Doctor swallowed around a gag.
"We have no choice. We have to lay him down on his back." Blue eyes met brown, silently communicating their distaste but understanding of the decision. Clint and Natasha brought the broken man to the gurney.
Lowering Tony gently so he could sit on the platform first, Clint and Bruce guided his mangled body down. As his back touched the soft, white linen, Tony's eyes once again locked onto Natasha's, pain flooding the widened orbs, a silent shout of pain on his lips. He unsuccessfully attempted to arch is back from the offending pressure, his head pushing feebly into the mattress, the hand still holding onto Natasha's squeezing with all its might. Once situated, Natasha leaned back over his right, less injured side and caressed his cheek, words of reassurance resuming. Bruce started quickly attaching leads and IVs on the other side as well as assessing his injuries.
Clint scampered into the pilot seat, fired up the engines to began the journey home.
Minutes later, Clint switched on the autopilot and headed back to check on his friends, JARVIS maintaining the coordinates as well as a fast, but safe flight. Thor was sitting with Steve, who sat rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around his stomach, bucket by his feet. Thor gave Clint a reassuring smile as he spoke softly to their leader, his hand rubbing the man's back comfortingly.
Making his way further back, Clint sidled up beside Bruce. In addition to the myriad of tubes snaking their way into and out of his friend that had been placed when he left, a breathing mask had been added to the mix.
"How's he doing, Doc?" The look on Bruce's face did nothing to reassure Clint. Natasha was still whispering softly to the engineer, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Not good." Clint glanced questioningly towards Bruce. "This isn't exactly my area of expertise, but besides his obvious injuries, something's not right."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. His vitals are all over the place and not at all what a person would expect given his... condition." Bruce fiddled with some instruments that were beyond Clint's knowledge.
"Yeah, I'm surprised he's still conscious."
"That could be from the shock, but I agree. Has he said anything?"
"Not to me. He's only responded to Nat so far."
Natasha looked up at the pair at the mention of her name. Tony's eyes slowly following her face, then her gaze. His eyes flickered over their faces.
"There's plenty of time for that later." At the sound of Natasha's voice, Tony's eyes drifted back to the redhead, eyebrows knit in confusion.
Bruce frowned in consternation.
"Doctor!" Thor's shout interrupted Bruce's musings. "Come quickly! The Captain requires your assistance."
Bruce hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave Tony in his condition, but with a quick "watch him," he scooted around the gurney to the side of the jet where the Captain and demigod were seated.
"Steve, what is it? What's wrong?" The super soldier was shaking, sweating, and vomiting when Bruce got to him.
"His symptoms have gotten worse, Doctor. How shall we proceed?"
After giving the man a quick check-up, Bruce found himself frowning once more.
"Steve," blue eyes filled with anguish looked up at him. "Steve, you're going through withdrawal. Whatever that drug was, it must have been highly addictive. We have the compound and we can do testing when we get to the Helicarrier, but I can't do anything for you right now."
"Ssss 'kay, Br'ce. I'm 'kay." Bruce rubbed the man's back for a moment before giving Thor instructions on how to help Steve through his withdrawal. Getting up, the Captain gripped his arm tightly.
"Tony?"
"He's hanging in there, Steve, but I'm not going to lie. It's pretty bad." The soldier nodded his head in understanding, but continued to hold onto Bruce's arm. "Steve, I have to get back to him."
"'Kay. Here." Bruce looked down to see a shaky hand holding onto a vial, the contents a reddish hue. Grabbing it before it fell from unsteady fingers, Bruce stared into Steve's eyes.
"What is it?"
"Ddrug." Steve's words were slurring even more as his body mourned the loss of the drug it had become dependent upon, his shaking becoming even more prominent. "Fffor Tttony."
"They gave him drugs too?" Of course they did. Bruce mentally smacked himself. That would explain his paradoxical readings.
Steve nodded drunkenly. "Only one. Thhhree."
"What? I don't understand, Steve." A shaky finger pointed at the vial.
"Hhhad thhhree."
"Tony had three shots of this?" The soldier's head shook no rapidly before he turned green and released his stomach's contents into the bucket in front of him. Bruce grimaced. He really needed to get back to Tony.
"Diff'rnt."
"Different?" A nod. "He had a different shot?" Three fingers. "He had three different shots!?" Another nod. "And this is...this is one of them?" A final nod.
Bruce stared down at the liquid in his hand. There was no label on it to indicate its use.
"Do you know what it does?" He waited for Steve to finish spitting and handed him a bottle of water. Another moment and the man was shaking his head. Bruce's shoulders slumped.
"Nnno sssleep." Bruce looked back at the man, sympathy radiating from his very being.
"I know, Steve. But you can rest now. We've got you." The man fervently shook his head again, biting back bile as he did.
"Nnno sssleep." Steve removed a hand from the bucket to point at the small bottle in Bruce's hands before returning it to its previous position. The lightbulb went off in Bruce's brain.
"This stuff keeps Tony from sleeping?" Nod. Bruce shared a worried look with Thor, a soft "shit" escaping his mouth. Another nod agreed with his expletive. "For how long?" Steve shook his head.
"Steve, I know this sucks, but do you know what the other shots were for?" One finger raised itself from the rim as the bucket was filled some more.
"Fffeel mmmore."
"Feel more?" Another nod. "Feel more what?" More puking followed.
"Doc! He's crashing or something!" The cry from Clint had Bruce moving back to Tony. He could figure out the rest later.
"Doctor!" Thor caught up to Bruce just as he reached Tony's side. "The Captain's last word was 'pain.'" Sorrowful eyes met for a second before Bruce turned his concentration back to Tony, his subconscious mind putting the pieces together for him: the second drug made Tony 'feel more pain.'