Howard looks down at the little alert that tells him Steve's heart rate is too high. He frowns. A bit of a quick onset too. He looks at the time, could be Steve's walking home… he pulls up the tracker to see that Steve's still at school.
His finger hovers over the 'call' button. Then he sighs and watches as the monitor starts to slow, Steve's heart rate calming.
Howard takes a deep breath and laughs, "let him be." He tells himself. Something Maria and Sam and even Tony kept trying to get through his thick skull.
So he gets back to the work he was doing.
—
It takes him more courage than he'd like to admit to peek around the corner once he finally manages to make it to the correct hallway. His test is long dropped and forgotten in that first hallway.
A boy he doesn't recognize is holding a pistol in one hand and a rifle slung across his back. A large bulky jacket is crumpled on the ground and Steve's brain supplies that that's how he must have hid them. The teacher is in a heap on the ground, crying and covering her head with her arms. The boy is shouting and waving, mostly incoherently, or that's what it seems like to Steve.
"Let's go!" The boy shouts, reaching down to grab the teacher by her hair.
"Stop." He hears himself say. He doesn't remember commanding his mouth to say the word, and he's not sure how it sounds so steady. But it gets the attention of the two people halfway down the hallway.
He steps out, facing them, hands raised a bit, mimicking what he's seen people in movies do when they're trying to calm someone down. The teacher is looking at him in shock but still huddled in fear.
Suddenly the pistol is pointed at him, "what the hell are you doing here! I told them to tell everyone to get out!"
Ah. He must have missed the announcement without his hearing aid. He wonders why the alarm hadn't gone off… the one with the flashing lights that are required by the state, that would have got his attention… But it doesn't matter now, he's here and he's not leaving the lady alone.
"I didn't hear it." Steve says easily, hands still up, he gestures to his ear, "my hearing aid was out."
The kid is obviously thrown off by that answer and there's a pause of silence where Steve takes advantage, "What's your name?" Steve asks. He has no idea why that question gets priority, his mouth is doing whatever it wants while his brain is screaming at him to run run run.
"Shut up." The kid says, "get out of here."
"No can do." Steve responds, "you're stuck with me now."
A gunshot whistling past his ear makes his hearing aid screech and he gasps, clutching at his ear and ripping it out. The sound disappears and he looks up, eyes wide on his face as the boy's hand shakes in his direction and the teacher curls up tighter on the floor.
He's panting now, his heart rate starting to accelerate as pure adrenaline from what just happened starts to crash his system. He slowly puts his hearing aid back in.
"You're a good shot." Steve hears himself say, "you take training?"
He has no idea what is possessing him at the moment, his brain is a jumbled mess, but he shoves his shaking hands against his sides and takes a step forward.
"Yeah, I've trained." The kid hisses, "I'm the best shot in my league."
Steve nods, another step closer, "that's cool. I have a friend who's does archery. He's a good shot too."
"Not as good as me." The kid snaps.
"For sure." Steve agrees easily, "you could be a sniper I bet."
"Hell yeah I could."
Something in his brain tells him that this is working. The compliments. "You should try out for the army rangers. Or marines maybe. They're known for good marksmen, right?"
He has no Idea what the hell he's saying. He knows nothing about the military. He watched some movie with Bucky and Clint once, but he doesn't remember a thing. And before the other kid can respond, Steve is asking, "So what are you doing here?"
The boy lets out a snarl and the teacher whimpers, curling tighter around herself.
"This BITCH made me fail my course! And then reported me to the office acting like I was being crazy, but I wasn't being crazy!! And that shit lie went on my record! And now no I've got the dumbass at the recruiting office telling me I'm somehow being told that I'm 'unfit to serve'!?" The boy hisses and rants and says other stuff that Steve can't make out, he can see the kid is talking to himself. Worry spikes through him. And obviously this kid was insane to want to come and threaten a teacher in the first place, but now Steve is starting to see the deeper mental unbalance. "It was her!" He suddenly shouts, waving a pistol at her face, "she called the army and told them I was unfit to serve! She's ruining my life!"
"No—" the woman croaks out, "I didn't! I wouldn't!"
"Liar!" The boy screams, "you're a liar! You've always hated me and you're ruining my life!"
Unhinged.
Okay.
Steve's mind starts to settle, racing with strategies to deal with what's in front of him.
What would calm down a person who is so set on an idea?
Believe them.
"Wow." Steve says, looking at the teacher and schooling his face into annoyance, "I can't believe you would do that." Her eyes widen more and she starts to protest, but he shakes his head infinitesimally. And she catches it. "I just feel like that's a terrible thing to do." He continues walking closer." The kid is staring at him, studying him, trying to find a deception. And Steve hates to admit it but he's gotten good at lying the past year or so. He gently pushes the bridge of his glasses up from where they were slipping down his face. "I'm Steve Rogers, by the way," he says again, "I never got your name…" he waits, hand outstretched for a shake.
"Emil." The kid says gruffly, his eyes still a bit wild, "Emil Blonksy."
"Nice to meet you." Steve says with a smile, "hey you know what." He points to the teacher, trying very hard to feel nonchalant about the pistol hanging in the kid's hand. "She's not even worth it." He waves at her like she's nothing.
Steve hears a distant phone ring and it surprises the kid, making him level the pistol at the teacher again, "who did you call!"
The teacher looks terrified and can't respond.
"Probably them calling for a list of demands." Steve says, nodding as if that would be a natural thing. It could be a random phone call. But if the school knew Emil was in here with a teacher and a gun then the police would probably actually try to negotiate with him. Steve's mind briefly wonders if they know that he is here too.
When did his life go from a tragedy to an action movie?
"What are you going to demand?" Steve asks, taking a slow and subtle step in between the teacher and Emil.
"What do you mean?" The confusion on the kid's face makes Steve wonder if anyone ever had ever listened to this kid.
"Well, you're here. You hold all the power." He says with a shrug as if he doesn't mind that, "so what do you want?"
"I want this bitch dead."
Steve's blood goes cold at the blank and unfeeling way he says that.
"Well," Steve starts, trying his best to sound calm and unaffected as his heart starts to hammer, "I mean you could… but truthfully I just think that would not help your case." He shrugs and teeters as his knee joint wobbles. He uses the motion to take another step between Emil and the teacher, "if you kill her—" he starts, and then he somehow manages a derivative chuckle, "even if she deserved it—" he hates the words as they exit his mouth but he doesn't stop, "they might try to use that against you too." He turns to the teacher who is looking at him in fear and he sees the ring on her finger. He's never taken a class from her, but he knows she's married, thinks she's even got a little kid at home. He mouths 'stay quiet' before turning back to face Emil, now fully between them.
"You don't want to give those bastards any other reason to turn you down so you?" He laughs again, trying not to sound forced, "what if they try to pin you as some murderer huh?" He asks, "you definitely don't want that. I say," he looks up at Emil who is listening to what he's saying, "we go in there, we call them and you give your list of demands," he points towards the direction of the front office, "we get this whole thing taken care of and then you never have to see—" even now he can't manage to call her a bitch, "— her again. What do you say?"
Emil looks torn. His main goal must have been vengeance on this lady who he's somehow decided is at fault for all his failures. His linchpin in his actions. Steve's eyes look at the butt of the rifle, poking up from behind Emil's shoulder. And the logo on it makes him physically ill.
Stark Industries.
"You know—" Steve starts, his voice a bit hoarse, he clears it and continues, "I think we just go to the office and make your demands and get this thing rolling."
The boy reaches down and yanks on the teacher's arm, "get up!" He snaps, yanking her forward.
Steve groans internally, he'd been hoping the guy would leave her there, but no such luck.
Emil walks with heavy boots on, his slightly long and kind of greasy hair flopping as he walks. Dragging the teacher who's following quietly and trembling.
"So," Steve tries again. Hoping to keep him calm, "how old are you?"
He doesn't hear the answer though. He tries to calculate in his mind how long this could have been going on. It had been a solid thirty minutes of just him alone taking that test. So anytime from when the last kid left that classroom till now, and Steve's been with them for just under 10 minutes so far.
Idly his mind wonders what the BPD response time is to school shootings.
They arrive at the office door and Steve pushes it open, leading into it. The files on the floor, a spilled coffee cup, and the mess of paper clips tell him that everyone in here left in a panic. Had Emil started in here?
The phone for the All Call is still hanging off its receiver. He picks it up and sets it on its hook. He hears the loud speaker click off. He tilts his head, "you said you told them to get everyone out." He starts, getting Emil's attention, "why not have them set off the alarms?"
The kid scoffs as if he's the idiot. "What, you think I want the police showing up or the fire department? Hell no."
Steve looks at the teacher who looks stunned.
Surely this kid has to realize they'd come anyway. But maybe the extra seconds bought him time for his psycho plan. Steve steps around the puddle of coffee on the floor and picks up the office phone. He holds it out to Emil, "you want to talk to them?"
"No." He snaps, gripping the teacher's arm tighter, you talk to them. You tell them I have two hostages now. More bargaining power."
Steve does not respond to his new label. He does however dial 911 and wait as it rings.
"911 what's your emergency."
"Hi, uh, I'm here in Brooklyn High—"
"Hold please-"
He only has two seconds to be surprised at her abruptness when a new voice comes on the phone, "hello, this is Sergeant Fury, is this Emil Blonksy?"
"Oh-"" he says, startled by the brusqueness of the tone, and the fact that they already know who the shooter is. Although it makes sense, someone had to have seen Emil and recognized him, "no, it's not. This is Steve."
There's a pause, a weighted heavy pause, "Steve, are you hurt?"
"No, sir."
"Are you in the room with Emil?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can I speak to him?"
Steve looks up at Emil who is still holding the teacher in a vise-like grip and staring straight at Steve, "what?"
"He wants to talk to you."
"Tell him to eat shit. I ain't talking to no one until I get what I want."
Steve's mouth opens in surprise, but he doesn't respond, just lifts the phone and holds it to his ear. "He doesn't want to talk to you." He says truthfully.
"I heard him." The man says deeply, "what is it that he wants?"
"What do you want?" Steve asks, locking eyes with Emil, "they want to know."
Uncertainty crosses Emil's face, he looks down at the teacher and then around, as if the room might give him the answer.
"Money." Emil says, but even Steve can tell it's more of an 'expected demand' than something Emil even cares about. "And I want her fired. And in jail." He snaps, pointing to the teacher, "and I want whatever she put on my record to be stripped off it! And I want her to call the marines and fix it, and a position with Seal Team Six."
Unhinged just took another notch up to Absolutely Unhinged.
But Steve doesn't argue. He goes to relay the message but Fury is speaking again, "I heard him. Can he hear me?"
"No sir."
The tone the man is using is calm, as if he's speaking to a young child, "Tell him we will need time to see if we can meet his demands. Is Mrs. Sammons there with you?"
Sammons. That's her name.
"Yes, sir."
"Is she hurt?"
Steve looks at the teacher and tries to see if she's injured. Emil follows his line of sight and snarls, "what are you doing!" He snaps, tossing the teacher to the ground and striding forward, "what are you telling them!" He snatches the phone from Steve's grasp and slams it back down. "They know what I want. They can call back. Get over there—" he shoves Steve forward, and Steve stumbles hitting his knees on the carpet and rolling over so he's sitting up against a wall.
Mrs. Sammons is shoved his direction and they both sit quietly. There is a bruise forming in the woman's face but other than that she looks okay.
Emil pulls out a cellphone and starts typing something.
"Are you okay?" He whispers, trying to get her attention, "are you hurt anywhere else?"
She shakes her head and he watches as tears leak out of her eyes, "I'm sorry." She rasps out, "you shouldn't be the one doing the protecting, that should be me—"
He stops her, "he's not after me. He's after you, it's all fine. It's going to be fine. I've been in worse scrapes than this—" he says it as a joke, to try to lighten the mood "—I promise you, we'll be okay, okay? We'll get you home."
The teacher blinks at him in surprise, her eyes slid to Emil and back to him, "how can you be so sure?"
Steve shrugs and leans his head back against the wall, letting his eyes stay closed as he responds, "it's all gonna work out. We both have people we told "see you tonight" to, didn't we?" He lets a lopsided smile cross his face at the memory of Peggy's text
Christmas Break is finally here! I can't want to see you and kiss you senseless. Good luck on your test, see you tonight!
He looks at her, "didn't you tell someone this morning that you would 'see them tonight?'"
She thinks only a second before she nods, "I told my husband I couldn't wait to see him for dinner tonight. My mom is babysitting our son and we're going out to eat to celebrate my husband's work promotion."
Steve nods, "are you one to break promises?"
She tilts her head, "no…"
"Neither am I. We both made promises this morning. I intend for us to keep them."
More tears slip out of her eyes as she looks back to Emil. "But he wants me dead."
Steve reaches out, his thin and bony fingers resting on her arm, "I'm not going to let that happen." He takes a deep breath, "just don't argue with him, don't agitate him, he—"
The phone rings and all three of them jump.
Emil grabs the phone and points at the teacher this time, "you, answer it!"
She stumbles over and grabs it,
"Hello?"
A response they can't hear.
"No, just the three of us."
Emil frowns but says nothing. The teacher blanches, but swallows hard, "okay, they've agreed to fire me and put me in jail." She says in a shaky voice, "but to do that, you have to send me and Steve out—"
"What they think I'm a moron!" Emil shouts, "tell them they're not getting either of you until every demand is met!"
And the worst idea in history presents itself to his mind.
Steve stands, groaning at the protest of his knees and the new bruises he's sure are forming there. "They can't fulfill putting her in jail unless you send her out." The logic of that makes Emil's face twitch. "What if you sent her out, and just kept me. I'm still a hostage, still a negotiation chip." The teacher's eyes widen but he ignores her look of protest, "hell, I know you've figured out I'm the more valuable target anyways. You're a clever one. I do wonder how you figured it out though. Care to explain?"
The teacher is quiet and her brows are furrowing in confusion.
Emil looks lost and annoyed about it. "What are you talking about!" He hisses, about to shout something else but Steve laughs. Loud and long and clear.
"Come on, no need to pretend." He says with a smirk, "I believed you at first. You had me going there about the teacher and all, but I've caught on to your smart little scheme. You win."
They both still look confused, which is fine by Steve, who just gestures at the rifle. "I mean come on, the rifle was a bit much, but I should have known. So listen, you get rid of the teacher. Toss her out as a Good Samaritan gesture and I'll call him."
It's pin drop silence as they both stare at him. He can hear the Sergeant on the phone still listening.
"Call who?" Emil demands.
Steve scoffs, "come on, there's no need to pretend anymore. I know you know who I am. So it's fine. I'll call him. And I'm sure we can work all this out. But he won't work with anyone else in the room. So Sammons here has to go."
And Steve is surprised by the fact that she has the courage to ask, "wait, who?"
Steve's smirk belies the dread in his gut, he gestures to Emil's rifle, "Howard Stark of course."
—-
Clint's sitting in class when his phone buzzes.
He ignores it until it buzzes again and again.
It could be the group chat, but it's probably just about tonight. They're all supposed to meet up for the first night of Christmas break.
He continues working on his notes until the door to the classroom is opened. Everyone looks up including the teacher.
"Uh, is Clint Barton in this room?"
He stands, "that's me."
"Your mom's on the phone? Says it's an emergency?"
He grabs his stuff and is out the door with the lady in a second. She leads him to the next door office and gestures to a phone, he picks it up, "Melissa?"
"No, it's Laura." She squeaks out, whispering, "sorry I tried your cell—"
Now his worry gets worse, why would she be so desperate to get ahold of him?
"Laura? What's wrong?"
"Um…" she starts, we were in class with some cops, they were coming to talk about what drug addictions look like you know? And suddenly they're bolting from the room and—" her voice breaks. "—they were called away to Brooklyn High. Because there's a shooter." Her voice goes quiet on the last word. Clint feels his heart drop as Laura continues to talk, "I texted Steve but he didn't respond and maybe he's not there I just—" her voice drops off, a whisper, "I thought you should know."
His grip on the phone is bone jarring, "how long ago?"
"They left not even 10 minutes ago."
"Okay." Clint says, his mind in a haze of worry, "I'll call Steve."
"I tried that too."
"Oh."
Is he breathing? He should be breathing.
"Clint, I don't even know if he's there, maybe he's not even there—"
"I'm going to call Sam—" Clint says haltingly, hanging up and fumbling to dial the number to the house.
"Hello?"
Not Sam.
"Sarah?" He rasps out, his voice a deep cracked thing.
"Yes this is Sarah, who is this?"
"Is Steve home?"
"No. Not yet, who is this, can I leave a message?"
He hangs up and for what feels like the thousandth time, is running.
—
Emil stares at him, and Steve sighs, "come on, you don't have to keep up the act." He says with an eye roll. "You're clever though, all the little bits and pieces you needed to get me here as a hostage? That's a good character study. You really nailed me to the wall. Don't know how you did it, but hey, I'm impressed." He walks forward, gesturing for the phone. "We'll call you back." He says easily, hanging up on the policeman. Then he pauses, he doesn't actually know Howard's number by heart. But he knows someone who does.
Two rings later and Tony's picking up. Steve puts it on speaker.
"Hello?"
"Hey Tony. It's me, Steve, hey I don't have my phone and I need your dad's number."
"Steve? How the hell did you lose your phone again? Geez."
Steve laughs, "you know me. Anyways, can I get it?" Tony recites it and is about to ask another question when Steve cuts him off, "okay thanks, see you later. Bye!"
Emil stares at him in wonder, "I know that voice. That was Tony Stark."
Thank goodness for famous friends with recognizable voices.
Steve turns to Emil, "so, now that you know I'm about to call Howard Stark, can we get rid of the unnecessary lady?" He waves at the teacher, "she's useless to you now. You got what you actually wanted. Bravo."
He's flying by the seat of his pants, but what the hell, that's what he's been doing his whole life anyways. Better to get her free now.
Relief floods through him when Emil nods, his eyes calculating and wild.
Steve picks up the receiver again and clicks redial.
"Sergeant Fury."
"Mrs. Sammons will be exiting out the main doors in a few minutes."
A moment of surprise before, "and you?"
Steve just hangs up.
—-
Tony shoves his last bag into the taxi when he gets a phone call. It's not a number he recognizes, but he answers it anyway since it's a Brooklyn number, his mind remembers the time he'd gotten a random call from a bodega owner. Steve had been knocked out in a fight and they'd helped him and used his phone to call the last number dialed.
Now Tony answers almost every call.
"Hello?"
A short exchange with Steve and then the kid's hanging up on him.
"Who was that?" Bucky asks, appearing with his own bag.
"Steve. Lost his phone again."
Bucky laughs, "he does manage to misplace it a lot. Why'd he call you?"
"I dunno, just needed my dad's number I guess. Got all your stuff?"
"Yep." Bucky responds, slamming the trunk shut, "let's get to the airport before the rest of the holiday rush."
Tony nods and the taxi driver takes off.
—
Once Mrs. Sammons is gone for a few minutes, Steve relaxes. She's safe.
"Call him." Emil says, pointing to the phone, "call Howard Stark."
Here comes the worst part of the plan.
"No."
Emil looks up in surprise, his grip on his pistol tightening, "what do you mean no?"
"I mean, no, let's talk this out, I know a lot of people who can help you, will you let me help you?"
Emil gets stiff, "call Howard Stark NOW."
Steve can see the last remaining mental stability draining from Emil's eyes. "Emil, let's be honest, you're not walking out of this with your hands free. You threatened a teacher and you shot at us. Do the right thing, give yourself up and ask for help."
Email's face turns blood red with anger, "I can still kill you!"
The words hang in the air like icicles, sharp and clear.
"True." Steve finally says. "But I'm dying in less than four years anyway. All you'd be doing is adding more years to the jail time you're sure to have. But walk out with me, turn yourself in, and I'll tell the judge what you did and get you the help you need. Okay?"
He has no idea why he thinks this will work. The kid is obviously pretty far gone mentally, but something in Steve's heart won't let him just abandon the kid or lie his way out of this. Now that the teacher is safe, Emil's the next one who needs help.
—-
"Sir?" He looks up to see a pale Jarvis standing in the doorway.
"Yeah, Jarvis?"
"Sir, I think you need to come upstairs."
There are few things Howard takes more seriously than a worried Jarvis. He sets down his tools immediately and follows Jarvis to the main living area. He's surprised when he's led to the living room where the news is playing on the TV.
Active shooter at Brooklyn High
The ticker tape reads along the bottom.
Steve's heart rate.
"Jarvis, get the car."
"Yes, sir."
—
Something about what he said is causing conflict in Emil's brain. The kid is muttering to himself and gesturing. Then he'll get angry and let out a bursted snarl and yell and shout at the room until he's back to muttering and glaring at Steve.
This happens a few times, each time Steve watches the pistol, hoping it doesn't get pointed at him again.
—
Clint scans the crowd, looking for Steve's face. When he doesn't see it, he tries to tamp down the worry. Just then, a shout and a cheer goes up as a haggard looking teacher bursts out of the door. She goes running into the arms of a waiting police officer and she's hysterical. "He's still in there, get him out! You have to get him out!"
She's led to an ambulance and Clint loses sight of her.
Get who out?
The attacker?
Or someone else.
He turns to a kid with a backpack on. "What's going on?"
"Kid from last year came back and lost his mind on some teacher. He's got a gun."
"And it's just the shooter guy inside now?"
The kid shrugs, but then before Clint walks away, the kid says, "I think there's someone else. Or wouldn't they be busting inside?"
He hates that that makes logical sense.
He approaches the police crowded around the entrance, "hey!" He shouts, approaching the tall black guy with an eyepatch, "you in charge?"
"Who the hell let this kid slip past the barrier?!" The man barks, "get him out of here—"
"Who else is in there?!" He shouts, raising a fist to punch the police officer coming to escort him away.
"Details are confidential, kid, get back to where it's safe."
"No!" Clint says flatly, slipping past the officer and around the car before they can blink. "Is there a student in there? Is his name Steve?"
They pause just long enough for it to give Clint the answer.
"Shit!" He shouts, kicking the fire of the police vehicle. He turns, ready to run in the building when an arm grabs his, "hey let me go!"
"Where the hell you think you're going?"
"Inside!" Clint snaps, "lot of help you're going to do from out here!"
The man looks annoyed and impressed at the same time, "this is a hostage situation, kid, we go in guns blazing and we're more likely to get Steve killed then save him."
"So he's alright?" Clint asks, trying to wrench his arm free from the man's vice grip.
"Last we spoke to him he was. We're about to try calling again. How do you know him?"
"He's my brother—" Clint snaps, not caring if that's technically not true.
"Still can't let you get inside." The man says, hauling Clint backwards.
He tries to scrabble out of his grip but he can't. He's handed off to another police officer, a guy named Dugan. "I won't run." Clint lies, "you can let me go."
The man laughs, a younger cop than the rest but a positively massive frame, "they may call me Dum-Dum but even I won't fall for that." The man leads him back towards the police line and stays there with them.
Clint huffs and stares out at the building, they said he was okay, so far— his thoughts are shattered by the sound of another gunshot.
—-
Steve hadn't even known his watch could ring.
It never had before.
But suddenly the screen lights up and a shrill tone is emitting from it and Emil loses his mind, letting off a round in the small room.
"What did you do!" He bellows, ripping Steve up by the collar from where he'd been sitting against the wall, "you called for backup, didn't you!"
Steve shakes his head, his ear ringing again and this time the smell of gunpowder making him sneeze. "No I didn't. It's just my watch."
Emil grabs Steve's wrist and looks. The watch is still ringing and the screen just has a pulsing button with 'answer' underneath it.
Emil snarls and his fingers dig under the band, wrenching it hard. Steve yelps as his wrist bone snaps under the pressure. "Get it off!" Emil demands. Steve's fingers fumble with the back latch as his wrist aches. "Hurry up!"
Steve eyes a pair of scissors on the desk and cuts through the thick rubber band, handing the kid his watch. Emil sets it on the floor and shoots, the watch blasting into shreds at the close range.
Steve's arms fly up to protect his face from the debris and he takes a shaky step back.
"Who did you call." Emil asks through gritted teeth, "who did you call!"
"You've been here the whole time!" Steve retorts, "I haven't called anyone—"
They're both cut off as the office phone rings again.
Emil points the pistol at him. "Answer it."
Steve numbly walks over and picks it up. "Hello?"
"We heard gunshots, are you alright?"
"I'm fine." He responds quickly, "we're both fine."
"Why is he shooting then?"
"Misunderstanding." Steve grits out, his wrist starting to swell.
"Steve, I need you to listen to me, if he's agitated say yes, if he's calm say no."
"Yes."
"Okay. Stay calm and ask him what we can do to resolve this situation. What gets you both out the door?"
"Emil," Steve asks quietly, "they want to know what they can do to get us both out safely."
"I want her fired!" He shouts, his eyes wild and far away. "Where is she?!" He looks around the room and sanity is so far gone that Steve feels the shift happen. Emil's eyes fly up to Steve's "you tricked me! You tricked me into letting her go!" The pistol is suddenly in his face and Steve hears the worried sound that exits his throat as he drops the phone and backs away. Hands up in front of him in surrender. "You're a liar!"
"Steve?" He can hear the voice through the phone say, "Steve are you there?"
"Emil." He whispers out, "don't do this." He eyes are on the gun that is in Emil's angry trembling hand.
"You took away my one chance to fix it! The one chance I had to prove to them that I'm not crazy!"
Steve closes his eyes, "Emil, listen to me, you don't want to be a murderer, okay? This is all just one big mess but we can figure it out together, okay?"
"No!" Emil shouts, "you told me you'd help with Stark and you lied!"
Those words sting because they're technically true. But he hadn't actually wanted Howard getting involved, that had just been a ploy to get Mrs. Sammons to safety.
Although now that he thinks about it… that had probably been Howard calling on his watch.
"I can call him now." Steve relents, "I'll call him." Emil lets out an angry guttural sound and shoots the phone receiver, adding its plastic casing to the debris on the ground.
It's too late!" Steve's back hits a wall and suddenly he has nowhere else to go. Emil stabs the muzzle of the gun against his body, "you're just like everybody else! A liar! You think I'm crazy too!"
And it's ironic that in Steve's next words he fulfills Emil's accusations, "I don't think you're crazy, Emil." He lies quietly, very aware of how the gun is pressing against his ribs. "I think you've been through a lot. You need help. Let me help you."
"You can't help me!" Emil snarls, face too close for Steve's comfort, then Steve watches as a shift happens in Emil's eyes, from crazed to desperate, "they'll kill me if they catch me."
"No," Steve protest, "not if you—"
"They'll call me crazy and lock me up forever. I'm not crazy." He looks at Steve. "I won't be locked up."
Steve doesn't know how to respond, but it doesn't matter because a soft thud sounds above them and both of their heads point up, as if the ceiling might reveal what the sound was.
The crazed look is back in Emil's eyes, "they're coming for me." And Steve doesn't know what to say.
"Just let me go." Steve tries one last time, "we'll go out together, we can work this out—"
The sound of the gun going off surprises him.
Emil's backing away, "don't you come after me." He snarls, "you deserve this, you liar!" Then he's gone out of the room, Steve can hear his boots thudding as he runs down the hallway.
The pain comes then. He looks down, blood seeping out between his fingers as he stands frozen. He wonders why the blood is vibrating only for his pain-addled brain to supply the information that it's not, his entire body is shaking. Searing sharp pain makes him double over and gasp. His already bruised knees hit the floor again and his wrist protests as he tries to catch himself. He cries out in pain as he tumbles to the ground, looking up at the ceiling and wondering for the life of him how he always manages to end up bleeding and alone.
—
Clint manages to slip Dugan's grasp eventually. He slips around the building and uses the old brick wall to make it to the first floor windows. He climbs the brick, glad for the old details that provide handholds and allow him to get to the next level. He looks behind him but there's not really an exit for the shooter to leave through, so they're not watching this side. Only one or two patrolmen who haven't noticed him.
He slides the window of an empty classroom open and drops in. He's as quiet as he can as he walks out the door. He slips past hallways and is heading down the stairs when he hears a gun shot.
The office.
He's sprinting now, running down the linoleum lined hallways until he turns the corner and someone else is running towards him. With a pistol in his hand and a rifle on his back.
They both screech to a stop and the guy raises the pistol, pulling the trigger and making Clint flinch. But the sound of an empty clip makes the kid growl and gives Clint precious seconds to duck into the nearest room. He looks at the classroom and races to the teacher's desk, picking up the mug of pencils and pens and scissors sitting there. He sprints to the other door, the one that will get him closer to the person and he bursts out of it. The kid has the rifle perched against his shoulder, ready to fire, but Clint's faster. The scissors lodge into the guy's knuckles, drawing a vicious snarl from his throat. Clint flicks the pencil sharply, the sharp point hits his face, not impaling him but causing him to flinch back. Clint uses every archery aiming tactic he knows to barrage the kid with projectiles until it's just the mug. He says a silent prayer as he hurls it towards the guy.
It shatters against the guy's temple and he crumples to the ground.
He's about to ask where Steve is when he hears a choked sound of pain around the corner. He levels a kick at the guy's temple, hoping to keep him unconscious long enough.
Clint's heart stops as he turns the corner to see Steve holding a bloody hand against his side and trying to drag himself out the office door on his stomach.
"Steve!" He shouts, sliding onto his knees and hovering his hands over Steve's body, "Steve!"
Steve's head angles up and glassy eyes find his, "Clint?" It's slurred and comes out more like 'lint' but he'll take it.
Relief floods his chest, "yes, it's me, Clint! Hold on-" he gently flips Steve onto his back and then gasps at the gaping wound on Steve's side and the burn around it. He knows more about guns than he has ever admitted to the group, and the way this looks was point blank range, muzzle pressed against Steve. He chokes back a roar of rage and gently prods Steve's back, feeling the exit wound. "Okay, hold on," he grits out, "we need to get you help."
"—'eacher," Steve slurs out, "safe?"
Clint rolls his eyes as the tears start to well up in them, angry hot tears, "yeah, Steve, she's safe."
Steve sighs in relief. Then his bloody hand grabs Clint's wrist, "think I'm clocking out here." He says calmly, his eyes getting clear and coherent for a second.
Dread coils in Clint's stomach at the words. It's a phrase his boss uses at work all the time. They always have to let Coulson know when they're leaving for the day for safety protocols. Clint's always lightly teased him about it and he's told Steve how ridiculous he feels everytime he says "clocking out for the day".
But now the double meaning has Clint sick.
"Permission denied, Steve." He snaps back. "Stay with me." He presses his fingers against the still bleeding wound and uses his other arm to work under Steve's shoulders. He hauls the kid onto his own feet, and huffs as Steve's weight settles against him. "Come on, kid." Clint says, taking a step forward and practically dragging Steve forward with him, "we got things to do this break. You promised me an oreo eating contest. I'm holding you to that."
And the slur is back as Steve's head sags forward and he grumbles out, "not 'ungry."
Clint huffs out a laugh and is silently thankfully for how light Steve is, making it easier to haul him through the hallways. He briefly glances back to the dripping trail of blood following them.
He holds Steve steady and raises his leg, kicking the crash bar of the front doors and slamming them open with heavy force. Surprised faces turn his way and he just makes out the red face of Howard Stark yelling at the black man with an eye patch before all hell breaks loose.
—
Howard leaps out of the car when the traffic won't let him get any closer to the school building and he's running like he hasn't run in years. He feels his tie flapping behind him, and he knows he causes some wild stares to those who have the second to recognize who he is before he sails past them. He'd tried to call Tony only to remember that he and Bucky were in the air by then.
He makes it to the police barricade where he sees a large blonde man with a mustache arguing with a black man with an eye patch, and they look like they're the ones in charge. He doesn't question as people let him pass, it's pretty typical when people see him in crowds. Surprised faces turn into awed faces as they split apart.
"Howard Stark" he hears them whisper as he passes, "what's he doing here?"
He reaches the two arguing and hears the last insult, "Listen Chief!" The blond man says with a gruff respect, "he slipped my grasp and took off! I'm sure he—"
"Excuse me." Howard says, cutting in, "I need to know what's happening in there."
The man with the eyepatch turns to him with a glare, "doesn't anyone understand that this is official police business!"
"I need to know if one of my kids is in there!"
The man whose silver name badge reads Fury throws up his hands, "what the hell is happening here! The details of what's happening cannot be shared with bystanders, now get behind the line!"
He raises his finger, stabbing it in the man's direction ready to tear into this guy when the doors blast open and Howard looks up, seeing Clint standing in the doorway, holding a limp and bloody Steve.
He doesn't remember racing up the stairs, but he must because suddenly he's taking half Steve's weight and helping Clint get him down the stone steps. Paramedics rush forward and get ahold of him. Clint's telling the eyepatch man about the kid who might still be in the hallway and suddenly police are entering the building, guns raised.
But Howard's not paying attention to that.
He and Clint stand there quietly, covered in Steve's blood, as they strap him into a gurney and load him onto the ambulance. Then Clint's climbing in the back and even though someone tries to say "only one ride-along" Howard glares at her so fiercely that she backs away and he climbs up. They each hold one of Steve's hands as the siren starts up and they're driving.
They hit a pothole and Steve groans, "Steve?" Howard asks, "you okay?"
The kid turns and looks at him, one eye barely open and throat raspy, "whys'ur mustache sad?"
Clint snorts out a disbelieving laugh at the comment and Steve rolls back into unconsciousness as the paramedics do they're best to keep him stable.
"How the hell did you get into that building?" Howard asks, looking at Clint who is staring at Steve.
"I climbed."
And Howard doesn't ask any questions after that.
—-