Work Text:
Murder. Slaughter. Slay. Annihilate. Massacre.
So many different words in the English language to depict the ending of life. How is it possible to have so many words available to be used, yet have communication itself be so poor. It seems a tad...extreme.
Are we all just ...creatures co-existing in space together, each moving our muscles to form sounds and hoping that the partner in our ‘conversation’ can comprehend our meaning? Are we just alien to each other, with each individual thinking in a completely different process to the other with no actual comprehension of what the other is intending?
In the days of the future, and that future’s future, the actions of this day will bear weight. This day will bring forth memories of hope, joy, sadness, fear, and yes, even grief. For certain individuals… this day, this day, my friend, changes their axis entirely.
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“Iron Man! Duck!” Captain America winced as his warning came moments too late, and the armoured Avenger was swatted out of the sky like some pesky insect by one of the many tentacles whipping around and giving him and the other Avenger such a good workout. “Iron Man!” he shouted again as he watched the familiar figure careen its way into the earth with a ground-shaking crash.
With renewed determination, Steve threw his shield at the offending tentacle and watched with vicious pleasure as the disk cut through the limb causing the red tip to splash down into the water below where this latest creature had seemed to emerge from. “Tin-man, what’s your status?” Steve pressed, as he caught his shield on the rebound, looking around for his next move in this target rich environment.
He didn’t breathe easy until he heard the whine of a repulsor blast and saw the red and gold form shoot back into the sky. “A few new dents, Winghead, nothing Mr. Stark won’t be able to fix with a big enough hammer,” came the familiar voice over the comms. Steve frowned, even as he batted away another tentacle that appeared to be trying to wrap its way around his calf. Were there undertones of strain in that familiar, robotic voice? Iron Man never reported any injuries, but there were times when neither he, nor his employer, were present in the Mansion that Steve could find, and it was frequently after rough battles. And Steve worried, ok? That was his job as Team Leader. It was so easy to forget that there most likely was a squishy human under that metallic suit…
Probably.
Hopefully?
“Cap!”
Iron Man’s voice caught his wandering attention, and he leapt to the side, tucking his entire body up behind the shield in a move as instinctive as breathing as he dodged the tentacle that would have hit him a moment later. If he were someone else he would have no doubt sworn under his breath at the near miss, but, other than a grunt as he hit the ground, rolling as he did so, all he uttered was a quick “Thanks, Shellhead,” as he sprung back up to his feet batting at the tentacle with his shield once more which was making a renewed attack on him.
He really wished that the rest of the team were there. Hawkeye would be exceedingly useful at watching everyone’s backs, whilst he was sure that Goliath and Iron Man would have come up with something to stop this tentacle...creature, whereas at the moment Iron Man and himself just barely had time to react to their movements, let alone plan some form of effective counter attack. The day had seemed like it was going so well to begin with…
The Mansion had been fairly empty – Jan was in Italy showing her work at a Fashion Show, Hank had accompanied her along with Hawkeye who had both been keen to visit Rome for some time apparently. Although, judging from the smirks Clint had exchanged with Tony, it was far more likely that Hank had just wished to spend more time with Jan as opposed to any actual desire to site see. Don had had to leave early for a hospital shift. Steve wasn’t sure precisely where everyone else was; Vision was off somewhere trying to come to terms with the fact that he was created from the brain patterns and memories of Wonderman, while T’Challa had gone somewhere into the city. He had discussed it briefly, but Steve had been too distracted to take in the information.
So it had been peaceful, a peace that Steve had sorely needed after the far too recent events with Dr. Faustus. Steve had been sitting in the kitchen, staring thoughtfully into his coffee as the butter on his sesame bagel slowly coagulated into a greasy, unappealing mess (and yes, if Clint had been there, then he would have accused Steve of brooding. But he wasn’t, so Steve had merely been staring thoughtfully.) Steve was finding the Faustus situation a lot more...unsettling than he was ready to admit to anyone, even himself. The turns his life had taken since he was pulled from the ocean by the Avengers… Even now, some days, he had to spend time when he first woke up figuring out if he was still dreaming, or if this was his life. Add Dr. Faustus’ manipulations on top of that? Well, Steve didn’t think he’d been imagining the increasingly concerned looks that Tony and Jan had been shooting his way. Tony had just begun talking about sending the team on an all-expenses-paid vacation prior to the whole Vision situation, and Steve was savvy enough to realise that it was primarily because their generous benefactor believed that he needed a break. Which was clearly wrong. He was fine! He just needed to clear his thoughts, that was all.
Anyway. Steve had been contemplating going out for a jog whilst drinking his morning coffee when a ruffled Tony had entered the kitchen. His attire made it obvious that he had not yet been to bed, despite the early hour. His thousands-of-dollars once white, crisp shirt was now wrinkled and covered with grease stains that would surely not come out. His sleeves were carelessly hoiked up to his elbows revealing an expanse of tanned skin that was only marked by similar stains to the man’s shirt. In one hand, his no doubt equally expensive jacket was scrunched carelessly, an improvement on him just leaving it forgotten on one workbench or another as so often happened to Steve’s occasional frustration.
In so many ways, this was Steve’s favourite version of the business man stroke engineer. The man’s attractiveness was beyond question, and Steve found his gaze resting on the blue-eyed man far too frequently. He just had an inherent beauty within him that caught Steve’s eye, whether it was the way he moved with such rapid, unthinking, yet genuine, gestures as he threw his hands around to articulate one point or another. His hands, those elegant digits, told such a story. The old, thick calluses marked him as a hard worker who didn’t rely on others to do the work for him. The oil embedded far too deeply under the beds of those manicured fingernails...The way he always seemed to be ahead of everyone else in the room.
Steve just noticed him, alright?
The engineer drew so much attention when he entered any room whether he wanted it or not. And Steve was an artist as well as a strategist. It was part of his job to notice things, and beautiful things just caught his eye.
Most days he hoped that he caught Tony’s eye back, but the man seemed to fall in and out of love so fast… it was hard to hope. He was sure he’d heard the man talk about a certain ‘Whitney Frost’ to his butler, Jarvis.
Anyway.
One part of Steve knew he should be absolutely horrified at this blatant disregard for things that cost so much Steve still found it hard to comprehend. Yet, he could feel the way his eyes crinkled at corners as he shook his head in fond exasperation. The man would just not take the time to get changed post his meetings. Steve had lost count of the amount of times Stark had started rambling about some idea he had just had mid-whatever task he had been in the process of doing and dash off to his workshop in order to investigate the idea more thoroughly. It wasn’t really surprising that he forgot such things as changing his clothes.
It was just another sign of how much he had changed since he woke up in the future. Would it always be the future? Or would Steve one day be able to view it as the present... The person he was slowly beginning to think of as his ‘old self’ would have been spitting with rage at Tony’s waste; would have probably spat at the ground if some big wheel as well decked out as him had strolled past showboating their wealth so flagrantly. And the wastefulness? Old Steve would just have not understood it, it was completely beyond his circle of understanding. The person he was growing to be? Found it amusing. Maybe not the wastefulness that this modern generation did seem so content with. That did still get his goat. Some days he found it so hard to reconcile the old him with the new, perhaps that would happen as if by magic one day too? Who knew.
It was only when Tony quirked an eyebrow that Steve realised quite how long he had been staring at the other man, lost in thoughts.
“Sorry,” Steve muttered, taking a drink of his tepid coffee in order to disguise the red that was surely beginning to creep over his face. A curse upon his Irish heritage. “I was...wool gathering.” That would certainly not help to dispel the worry that it appeared Tony and Jan had been feeling, and would surely only up the concerned glances being sent his way.
Tony opened his mouth to speak when the peace between them was shattered by the Avengers alarm sounding.
As appeared to be the phrase these days? Saved by the bell. Alarm. Emergency.
“Get Iron Man, Stark” Steve reached for his identichip to forward the alert to the others with one hand as he placed his coffee on the table beside him.
Stark, without pausing, nodded before hurrying back the way he came presumably to contact Iron Man, suit jacket dropped carelessly to the floor.
Steve failed to notice as he swept from the room to get into uniform.
What felt like only moments later, Steve climbed into the waiting SHIELD helicopter. The waiting agent, one Agent Quatermain, was one of the agents who actually appeared human in personality as well as appearance. He was a tall, burly blonde man who Steve held some respect for, despite the man rarely being quiet. He reminded him of some of the more suave characters he’d known in the past - fast talking chaps who always knew what to say. At least he knew when to not talk. Rumour around the Helicarrier was suggesting that he was soon going to be transferred to a different team much to Steve’s disappointment. Quartermain began filling him in before he was even fully seated.
“Greetings, Captain. We received reports a few hours ago ago of glowing lights under water just off the coast of Ocean City near Baltimore. Some local agents went to investigate but have not responded to attempted communications since their last response which was…” and here the man took what had to be a pause designed for dramatic effect to scan the papers resting next to him, “Shit. Fuck. That’s fucking huge. That’s aarrrrrrrgh.” The flat tone the words were spoken did nothing to deter from the feeling of horror within them, and the gaze Quartermain turned to Steve was heavy despite the attempted levity of his words. “We haven’t heard anything since.”
Steve nodded, not knowing quite how else to respond. “I’m sorry for your loss, Agent,” seemed the appropriate response. “Has any information been picked up by the...equipment?" A past part of him would have felt callous at the speed he changed tracks. But now was not the time. Just as it was not the time considering his still limited vocabulary for these situations.
The agent nodded before passing the briefing packet to the soldier who settled in to familiarise himself with the contained information.
He found himself cursing the lack of teammates surrounding him with whom he could formulate the beginnings of a plan with. There were the real beginning feelings of Team in moments such as this. It was still a mere echo of what he had with the Commandos, but he hoped these bonds would develop further. He missed those connections so much. And combat did so often begat brothers. Family. He did not want to imagine a dame like Janet's expression if he were to call her brother.
It was at that moment that the welcome tones of Iron Man came in through his comm unit unexpectedly making him jolt.
"Mr. Stark said you might be needing me."
Steve could feel his shoulders lose some of the tension coiled within them as his best friend of this century flew past the helicopter in a red and golden blur. "Iron Man," he greeted, knowing the smile was audible through his voice. “Thanks for coming - the team is fairly low on numbers today, it seems.”
“So Mr. Stark explained, he said you’d update me?”
The next twenty minutes or so of flight passed by rapidly as the pair discussed the scant information available from the briefing pack and tried to form some kind of plan beyond ‘go and have a look to see what’s there’
“It’s...odd,” came Iron Man’s distracted sounding voice as he focused on the small gadget that he was holding impossibly gently in his metal encased hands some time later when they had landed and were pouring over the information SHIELD had given them. “These readings don’t make any sense, but there’s something familiar about them. I just… can’t quite get it..” Steve turned his back on the water from where he had been staring at the ever so slightly mesmerising light display and focused on his friend.
“In what way?” He moved closer, away from the water’s edge, to stare at the equipment held within his friend’s hands. The lines and squiggles meant very little to him. But hopefully Iron Man would appreciate the support as it was obvious from his tone how frustrated he was.
“I don’t know!” The metal fingers tightened causing the device held within them to creak alarmingly. “There’s a pattern here! And I should be able to get it. But I just can’t quite...see it!” One metallic hand released the scanner to form a fist and thump at his own thigh, the metal on metal making a loud clanging noise caused some of the lingering agents to look over at the pair of heroes.
Steve laid a gloved hand on the cool shoulder, hoping to offer reassurance to the man within. It was unusual to hear the normally unflappable man sound so frustrated. “Steady, Shellhead. You’re not working alone on this. SHIELD is on it, and the others will be here soon. We have time.”
Why did he have to say that?
Almost the moment the words left his lips several things happened simultaneously.
“Something’s changing!” from Iron Man.
“The lights!” from an agent who had been keeping watch.
A scream from one of the watching civilians who had clearly refused to follow SHIELD’s directions to vacate the area.
And, finally?
Steve found himself lying flat on his back, chest heaving as he tried to regain the breath he had inexplicably lost and mind reeling as he tried to interpret the events that had just happened.
“Cap!” was the next, alarmed sound that registered in Steve’s ringing ears as he finally registered the fact that there was a rope or something looped around his ankle and tugging him in the direction of the water. Or the city. Who knew?
The next thing he knew was Iron Man was standing beside him, one arm outstretched in that oh so familiar pose and firing at the thing that was tugging the dazed Steve towards the suddenly turbulent sounding waters edge. The familiar sound of a repulsor blast rang out, and the rope around Steve’s ankle slackened allowing him to scramble to his feet in time to regain his wits.
Only seconds had passed for the whole encounter.
“..What on God’s green earth…?” Steve could feel his eyes widen in shock as he took in the red...thing that had suddenly appeared. He had no words to identify it. There were several long, deep red ...limbs, no, tentacles were thrashing around in the air in moves that somehow articulated absolute fury. The sheer size, let alone number, of them was intimidating, each red, darting limb, seemed thicker than a tree trunk, and several times the length. They positively dwarfed both him and his team-mate, but seemed unhindered by their size.
They most definitely did not seem to be friendly.
“Get back!” Quartermain shouted, taking control as some of the nearby agents stood stock still, almost hypnotised by the sudden appearance of the sinuous limbs. “Let Captain America and Iron Man manage this, this is above our paygrade!”
Steve, shaking off his own stupour, echoed the agent’s words. “Move back, we’ll handle this. Set up a perimeter and keep the civilians away, now! Move it!” The agents, well trained in following instructions, immediately began moving in a coordinated fashion, escorting some of the more stubborn observers with varying degrees of patience as they went.
Steve, relieved that the field was slowly clearing of non-combattants, fully turned his focus to the new life-form, studying its motions as he tried to spot patterns that would enable him to predict what its movements could be.
“All ok, Winghead?” Iron Man called over as he shot another blast at a tentacle that was trying to creep closer towards the pair. “That tentacle got you pretty hard there.”
“Fine,” bit out Steve, feeling bizarrely ashamed at having been caught so unaware. “Did you get any new information?”
“Negative,” came the unwelcome response.
And that bring us back to the present, Their last easy moments of conversation.
“Iron Man! Duck!!....But we’ve been here before.
Something seemed to infuriate the tentacles, causing them to whip through the air at a much faster pace, more jagged than previously. Whereas previously they had mostly been keeping their distance after that initial attack, now they were most definitely not.
Limb after limb flew through the air towards the two heroes, causing them to jump apart to avoid being thwacked.
And the onslaught began, limbs flying everywhere and anywhere as they tried to strike the two Avengers leaving cracks on the earth from the force of their hits each time they missed.
“Take to the air!” shouted Steve as he dodged yet another tentacle that had been attempting to smack into his back even whilst he jumped over one that had been making an attempt to trip him.
It was an instruction that Iron Man didn't need.
The whine of repulsors sounded out as Iron Man flew directly up, pirouetting to the side to dodge a loop that attempted to wind around his legs with the all the smooth grace of a cat. No mere tentacle could trap such a man.
Steve wished he had the time to just stare at Iron Man as he darted and spun through the air, making each move seem as effortless and light as a leaf on the wind. But such distraction would do nothing to win this battle, and battle it now was.
As Iron Man engaged the enemy, Steve hopped back several paces to try and give himself some breathing room as well as an opportunity to evaluate the battle.
He tore his gaze from the graceful figure which seemed to make the deadly dance he was engaged in seem easy. Instead, Steve forced himself to refocus his gaze on the flailing things, trying to discern some sense of reason from the chaos that filled the air. What he saw displeased him. Iron Man’s blasts barely seemed to have any effect at all.
Then things got worse.
Some of the deep red tentacles somehow… detached? And started careening through the air at truly ridiculous speeds independently of the now slightly shorter tentacles they’d left behind. Steve could attest to how much they hurt when they snuck up behind and rammed him in the back. Bruises, thankfully, rather than broken bones. But it was just one more reason to try and find a way to wrap this up as fast as possible.
Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the chaos that was unravelling around him. Flashes of red followed by bullets of light as Iron Man fired at the never ending targets time and time again. Different shades of red as tentacles both large and small whipped through the air seemingly without reason other than to beat either of the two small humans attacking them.
It almost felt like they were being toyed with. A feeling that only got worse as Iron Man started being batted between two of the tentacles like some form of ball. A cat toy. Tentacle toy?
Steve could do nothing other than hurl himself at his belaboured friend, throwing them both out the way of the tentacles as they landed together on their feet, Iron Man stumbling as they landed..
“Report?” Steve panted, one arm rubbing at the side of his arm that had impacted heavily with the unforgiving armour.
“Frustrated,” came the barked reply punctuated by pants on either side of the single word. “I can’t get a read on this fucking thing! Each time I think I’ve worked out it’s patterns, then the algorithm changes. It...It doesn’t have a rhythm. A pattern. There’s definitely a genius capable of real thought somewhere in a brain there. It’s not just some mindless creature. There’s just something so familiar about the readings that I’m getting here… I just can’t…”
Steve shot a glance towards his team-mate, concerned. It was so unlike Iron Man to be reacting like this. The man was always the epitome of control and dependable mixed up with the occasional sarcastic quip. “Steady, Shellhead.” he echoed his earlier comment, not knowing what else to say.
Without offering a verbal reply, Iron Man launched himself back into the sky, head twisting from side to side. “I’m going to try and spot where the central mass of these tentacles are and then deploy missiles.” he shot out, his voice unusually curt with the frustration he was so evidently labouring under. Steve could only hope that the added tightness wasn’t due to some injury that he had not disclosed.
“That’s as good a plan as any,” Steve replied, lowering his shield to deflect another one of those infernal tips that had tried to trip him up. The tip bounced off the vibranium shield with reverberating clang that appeared to once again cause no visible damage. What on God’s green earth were these things made of?!
As he danced about, jumping or batting against the purposefully flailing limbs, he cast his gaze around attempting to help Iron Man spot the central part. It was not an easy task, it was easy to see that they came from the water, but they didn’t all seem to just appear from one spot which would have made the task that much easier.
“Iron Man, what if they can extend? Like Mr. Fantastic.” There was a pregnant pause over the radio waves and Steve just knew that if the armoured figure hadn’t been in the middle of some daring pirouette dive thing that challenged the laws of gravity as Steve knew them whilst simultaneously dodging three limbs and two tips then he’d have probably been hitting his face with his gauntlet.
“And, I didn’t think of that...why?” Came the words, still frustrated but at least edged by a glimpse of self-deprecating humour. Iron Man paused for a moment as the plates residing in his shoulders retracted revealing glinting missiles beneath. “Shifting to armour piercing rounds for this hunk of squid, me thinks. If you’re right, then the central mass should be...there.”
It was moments like this that Iron Man revealed himself to be just as whip smart as his employer, Stark. Steve had no idea how the other man was able to work out where this ‘central mass’ could be, surely the amount of variables and calculations could not be completed in those few seconds that the man had taken. But he had somehow done it. And had done it many times in the past with skills that quite took Steve’s breath away. “Deploy away, Shellhead, with extreme prejudice.”
“Order accepted, Captain!” Steve did not try to hide his grin as the man threw a crisp salute in his direction. “Deploying now, additional prejudice attached.”
Red and gold pin-missiles shot from the armour’s shoulders, zig-zagging their way through the air as they torpedoed into the water followed only moments later by muffled booms sending mini jets of water cascading into the air in chutes.
It definitely achieved something.
Several of the tentacles went still, with little frissions or blue light running up and down causing a juddering movement.
The others, however?
They started whaling around even faster than before, with six or seven aiming directly for Iron Man.
“Look out!” was all Steve could get out before three or four held the metallic figure firmly within their grasp, all of his limbs encircled by writhing tentacles that prevented him from moving an inch. “Iron Man!”
“Shit!” came the succinct response, as Iron Man clearly tried to fight against the limbs circling around his shoulder and leg whilst another whirled around him threateningly, firmly placed between the flailing armour and Steve. The same blue-ish white-ish light as previously emitted from one of the tips that was close to the struggling figure scanned it’s way up and down the armoured frame and the beginnings of a scream came through the comms for a moment before they cut out leaving a chilling silence in its’ wake as Iron Man stopped all movement leaving him to slump in the grasp of the tentacles lifelessly. The tentacles grasping the still figure began to slowly move away from the frozen superhero.
Steve’s throat clamped shut, refusing to allow neither oxygen nor words to pass through it for one heart-stopping moment before his rational side kicked in.
Still silence did not have to mean dead.
With a roar of rage coursing through him and tearing it’s way from of his throat, Steve leapt over one of the tentacles that was daring to try and wind its way around his ankle, and slammed his shield down over it with far more strength than he’d used previously. Somehow, potentially due to it being weakened from Iron Man’s missiles, he managed to slice it in half.
A feral snarl slid over Steve’s face as his eyes hardened, zeroing in on the form of his teammate being held so tantalisingly close over the choppy water.
Bring it.
The next few moments passed by in a blur of jumps and bounds. Slices and shouts. Blocks and blows.
Much later, when this day was over, Steve would never be able to recall precisely what had happened.
The tentacles were moving more and more sluggishly, wavering around as though drunk as opposed to the sharp controlled movements of before. Little blue lights were still running up and down many of them and they slowly dipping further and further towards the water with the still-slack figure of Iron Man held within their grasp.
And then?
They collapsed. Some careening into the water, some slamming into the ground either side of Steve. The quiet whumphfs of impact seemed almost serene compared to the splashes of the ones landing in the water soaking Steve.
“Iron Man. Report!”
And Iron Man? He went with them, hurtling into the water without a sound of protest despite Steve’s horrified cries.
“Iron Man!”
Steve paused for barely a moment to throw his shield to one side before diving into the turbulent waters, not taking the time to consider whether the tentacle monster was alive or dead.
It didn’t matter either way.
He would not let another friend die. Not on his watch.
‘...Iron Man?’
His teammate’s name reverberated over and over again in his thoughts as he hunted under the water, the name itself unable to pass from his firmly clenched shut lips.
Everything was curiously motionless underneath the water. It would almost have felt serene if he weren’t so panicked. The turquoise waters batted lightly against his form as he cut through the slightly frothy water, segueing his way into a completely different world from the one of sweat and labour he’d just exited. It was cold, although not bitterly so. Steve could appreciate that on some abstract level. Whereas it probably would have felt biting on any other day, it instead felt refreshing after the exertions of battle, cleansing the sweat, blood and dirt from all parts of his exposed skin. There didn’t appear to be any fish - probably scared off by the battle, very little was present other than the cornucopia of motionless tentacles that slowly sunk towards the bottom. A dearth of light managed to permeate its way through the choppy water, providing Steve with only hazy glimpses of his surroundings..
The murky waters made it near impossible to spot the fallen hero, everytime Steve turned around another tentacle obscured his vision. Where was the man?
Steve turned around again and again, ignoring the beginning feelings of strain in his lungs.
He was here.
There was nowhere else he could be!
…..There!
A glimpse of what could have been an Iron-Man red was suddenly visible in between two of the deeper reds of the tentacles and Steve propelled himself with strong arms towards it, ignoring the burning feeling from overworked muscles. It was him!
Steve grasped the armour, firmly turning his mind away from how still the figure was, and with a heave of effort hauled the pair to the surface cresting the waves with a relieved gasp.
Without pausing, he spun onto his back and pulled the sodden figure of Iron Man so that the metallic head was cradled safely on his stomach. It made him feel a bit like an otter trying to crack open an oyster, but he’d been assured in his training how to save lives in the water that it was the best way.
Once Iron Man was situated correctly, Steve began to kick as fiercely as he could whilst cradling his precious cargo. He didn’t think he needed to keep the man’s neck safe the way he would an unarmoured individual, but it surely couldn’t hurt. And it stopped him from thinking about how silent the comms were. Or how still the armour was.
Moments later he reached shore, supported by some of the braver SHIELD agents as they helped him to drag armour up the beach. Steve fell to his knees as they laid down the ridiculously heavy armour, gloved fingers scrabbling frantically at the mask which concealed the user’s identity, but was currently concealing any proof of life.
Why. Weren’t. There. Catches?
...At least there weren’t any cracks?
With a muffled curse, Steve embedded his fingertips into one edge and heaved with all his strength. Once. Twice. Three times. Fo-
With a horrific cracking and sucking sound as a pressure seal was broken, Steve nearly fell over backwards as the mask flew off to reveal the grey-faced, soaking wet and blood-stained features of…
“Tony?!”
Steve exchanged a shocked glance with the three surrounding agents, before reaching two trembling fingers to press against the man’s pulse point. This was something he would acclimatise to later.
There!
Steve sagged with relief, feeling the shaking extend from his fingers until it was causing his whole body to tremble. “He’s alive.” was all he could mutter before the man’s eyelids flew open revealing blue eyes shrouded by the slightest of blue glows. He would have flown into a sitting position if Steve hadn’t automatically put his hands on his shoulders to hold him in place, and his own weakness hadn’t made itself known.
“I killed. I. I killed him. Me. I’m dead. That. Me. Steve. Medusa. Not- not a monster. Fl-”
Tony was making even less sense than normal, he didn’t even seem to realise that his identity had been revealed, his gaze instead fixated on Steve, babbling complete and incomprehensible words.
“Shellhead!” Steve snapped, more in effort to pause the sudden torrent of words rather than in actual anger. “Steady!” and that was the third? Fourth? Time he’d had to say that today. “Steady, Avenger. Take a breath and report.”
Those eyes were concerning, there was no doubt, but the glow was fading the longer the man was conscious for. Steve would wait to cast judgement.
The Iron Avenger kept his gaze fixated on Steve’s with a steadiness that was utterly foreign to to Tony Stark, but Steve very much associated with Iron Man, and it didn’t take the captain long to realise that Tony was trying to match breaths with him. Pulse hammering wildly in a visible throb at his throat as he swallowed once, twice, trying to calm himself down.
Steve couldn’t have said how long passed while he knelt there, completely oblivious to the world that was bustling around them, as he stared steadily into Tony’s eyes, trying his best to offer the grounding presence that was so obviously needed. His right hand, he noticed, had slipped down so that he was grasping the armour’s gauntlet, and neither man could have explained precisely when that had happened.
“Alright, Iron Man, Tony. Take it from the top.”
Tony’s eyes fluttered closed on hearing his name spoken for just a second before they flew open again, a hint of the renewed panic there before he instantly calmed upon contact.
“That… that creature. It wasn’t a creature.” He paused, throat sounding hoarse as he swallowed in an attempt to generate some saliva. “Well, it was. It wasn’t from our Earth. It… It was me. From a parallel universe, I think. I… I killed myself.” his eyes widened as his pupils dilated as shock began to set in, “I..he? I was fleeing. You. There was a you who had joined ‘Medusa’. It sounded like our HYDRA. And was a villain. I had been captured, and was fleeing. Then I somehow arrived here after making a mistake with a teleportation device. ...I was so afraid. I just wanted safety... I thought you were a threat! I was trying to.. to protect me! Get me safe.”
Steve tightened his grip and Tony’s voice choked once more, thickened by tears. ‘Medic’ he mouthed at one of the lingering agents. This babbling sounded insane, but it sort of made sense. The similarity of colours, how familiar the movements had been, the challenge of the fight…
“We’ll sort it, Shellhead” his spare hand reached into the suit to wipe away the combination of tears mixed with blood from one filthy cheek with a sodden handkerchief he pulled from one of his pouches. “Rest now. We’ll sort it.” He didn’t know how, or when. He didn’t know what the future would entail. How the rest of the team would react to this news. How he would react to Iron Man’s identity. There were so many unknown variables.
But they would sort it.
As a team, and possibly as something more.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And as for me, my friend. Do you remember me? We communicated at the beginning of this day. I can’t say we spoke, for no words were audibly exchanged. But communication occurred. Opinions were portrayed on what communication actually is. What do you think now? Do you see how the missed opportunities occurred? These callous, what you call ‘heroes’, they murdered my friend. My co-worker. Alright, I admit we had our faults, but I’m fairly certain that Steven would not really have killed Tony. Maybe just removed a few limbs. They’d have grown back. Eventually. Anyway. I slipped through whilst your ‘heroes’ were otherwise engaged.
I’ve been here ever since. Watching. Learning. Evaluating. I sort of understand now why what happened, happened. It took me some time to realise that your heroes were displaying grief. That helped. They didn’t intend to slaughter my team-mate. I might even make contact one day.
Maybe.
Maybe not. I don’t think they’d like my other side, you see.