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Chapter Text

Tony sat at the helm of his jet, the metal bird cutting across the sky just above the clouds. Barton accommodated the seat adjacent to him, manning the controls. Tony’s attention was elsewhere. The genius was fixated on a device in his hand, a simple sleek piece of glass no thicker than a quarter of an inch with a black frame. His eyes scanned the screen, analysing the data that was being displayed to him; diagrams, percentages and a string of numbers meaning very little out of context.

“Jarvis, analyse the left repulsor, somethings not right with these numbers.” Tony rubbed his chin, checking over the data again just to be sure, the short hairs of his goatee rough against his hand.

“Running diagnostic now.” His A.I replied, monotone as usual.

“Stark.” Another voice snapped. Tony was forced to turn his chair, meeting three disappointed faces. “Pay attention.” Steve stood arms crossed disdainfully.  Bruce and Natasha were seated nearby giving him the same disapproving glare.

“You went over the details before we left, I don’t need a recap.” Tony smirked a little too smugly.

“We’re going into an active war zone, Stark; must I remind you without one of our heavy hitters.” The Captain tamed his temper, wanting the so-called genius to see reason.

“Just because Thor is off world somewhere means nothing.” Tony was frustrated, not one to hide his discontent.  “Shouldn’t be relying on him.”

Tony understood when together, the dynamic of the team worked and worked well. Even so, with Thor’s absence Tony determined it wouldn’t negatively impact the overall effectiveness of the group. Especially against the foe they were supposedly facing.

“Don’t underestimate what we’re up against” Natasha spoke up, red hair vibrant in the grey and black interior of the advanced aircraft.

Tony couldn’t help letting a chuckle escape in response to her comment.

“A.I.M is nothing more than a branch of Hydra. One that has never developed anything substantial.”

“So, let me get this right. A.I.M supposedly distributing weaponry to the Taliban is not substantial?” Natasha interrogated. “Or maybe you are struggling to see how detrimental it is, particularly since that was how you made your fortune.” She continued, holding nothing back as she tossed the man’s past in his face.  Tony went to retaliate, his features darkening momentarily. Thinking better of it he rose from his chair, slipping the device he held into the back pocket of his black jeans. Tony didn’t even make a remark, walking past his team to the back of the jet, where the Iron Man armour resided.

“That was a low blow.” Steve told Natasha under his breath, not comfortable with how she handled the situation.

“He’s focused now.” Natasha calmly pointed out. Steve then comprehended the strategic move she had made, through words alone Natasha had grasped Tony’s undivided attention, which was rare.

“Banner get up here, need you to look at something.” Clint called, Bruce proceeding to take Tony’s seat next to him.  “What is this we’re coming up on?” He pointed to one of the panels in front of them, the screen showing the ground, its dimensions bellow in the form of contour lines. Strangely ahead of them the screen displayed nothing, a clear cut off from the rough sandy dunes below to apparent flat terrain.

“This isn’t possible, we’re still an hour off from the American outpost.” Bruce messed around with the display wondering if it was a technical fault, the screen still showed the same bizarre imagery.

“Want me to fly bellow the clouds, get a visual?” Clint addressed the group.

“No, we risk being seen, our arrival needs to go unnoticed.” Steve ordered.

“Understood.” Clint proceeded on the same course, everyone except Tony watching as they edged closer to what appeared to be the edge of the world.      

Tony was struggling silently to figure out what had caused the terrain detection, or simply the display, to malfunction. While his mind toiled around with the mystery, he easily adjusted the repulsor in his gauntlet, as if tightening a screw. The suit then stood whole again.

Everything then happened simultaneously. The lights in the jet flickered, the engines began to spit and sputter. Tony braced himself against something solid, Steve having to grip the back of the pilot’s chair to stay standing.

“We’ve lost all power, reserves failing!” Clint announced, frantically flicking switches, pushing buttons with no effect.  The jet started to descend into free-fall. 

A pain erupted from Tony’s chest. He found himself on his knees, hand reaching up and gripping the reactor in his chest unknowingly. All signs of power had been extinguished, all except the fluttering blue light of the arc reactor under Tony’s black t-shirt.

 “Stark, I need you to… Stark!” Tony looked up to find Steve forcing his way over to him, gravity yanking the aircraft back down to the ground. He felt the Captain’s hand on his shoulder but shoved him away to summon his armour. The red and gold suit encased him on command. It was clear the suit was struggling to power up, the arc reactors usual limitless supply of energy failing.

 “Strap in!” Tony ordered the others, he managed to hide his pained breathing through the mechanical tone of the armour. His metal boots clanked against the floor as he moved towards the cargo door.  A quick glance over his shoulder Tony found everyone buckled in, allowing him to proceed. The back of the jet opened, the wind spiralling and screaming as the crippled bird plunged through the clouds. Power warnings flashed all over his helmet display, Tony simply acknowledged them before leaping from the aircraft. 

The thrusters in his boots did not initiate immediately, a few flashes of blue prior to full ignition.  With his friends lives in his hands Tony wasted no time in propelling himself under the plummeting aircraft, metal against metal, his hands braced against its belly as he attempted to slow its descent. The ominous numbers of a digital altimeter on screen, measuring the frightening rapid decrease in altitude.

“Divert all power to thrusters!” Tony commanded through gritted teeth, the original stabbing in his chest transitioned to a deep burning sensation.

“Sir…”

“Just do it!” Tony interrupted Jarvis, the artificial intelligence following his command without further protest. Even though Tony’s efforts were affective, the rate the jet was diving towards the ground being counteracted, it had caused another issue to surface. With the forces of gravity and propulsion in conflict with each other, the aircraft had begun to pitch and spin, a spin Tony would be unable to correct without conceding to gravity. Scorched land bellow was rushing up to meet them, Tony had no choice but hope the aircraft crashed in a favourable way.

He remained under the jet even after the tail end collided with the tip of a sand dune, the eruption of golden earth fascinating as well as terrifying. The thrusters in his boots died and Tony was now just along for the ride. The nose of the jet burst through a dense bank, wings being ripped off on impact, the stocky fuselage and cockpit rolling several times. Tony’s world went black in an instant.    

Steve woke with the side of his face uncomfortably to the floor; his head was banging; the smell of fuel burned the inside of his nose. Shield on his back, he heaved himself to his feet. Sand invaded the metal interior, the cockpit no longer attached, sun doing its best to breach inside the man-made structure. Leaning on what was left of one of the walls, Steve probed the side of his head, dried blood coated his right ear and neck. Steve deduced that he must have been unconscious longer than he first anticipated.  Leaving the shelter of the wrecked back end of the plane, a distinctive roar pierced the unforgiving landscape. One of the wings of the plane sored past him imbedding itself in a sand dune with a mighty thud.

“Hulk, listen to me!” Shouted a familiar female voice. Steve stumbled from the wreckage, boots heavy in the sand and he clambered out of the impact zone. Out in the open, between what was left of the fuselage and cockpit, was the Hulk.

“Shit.” Steve cursed to himself. He adjusted the speed of his approach, taking more care.

“You need to listen to me.” Natasha again called to the green giant, she perched on an injured leg only a few meters from the him. The Hulk breathed heavy, he seemed as confused as Bruce would have been in such a situation.

“You know us Hulk, we’re your friends.” Steve announced himself, Natasha flicking a look at him over her shoulder.

“Friends.” The Hulk took a deep steady breath, doing something many would think impossible for the big green. He began to calm down.

“You with us?” Steve moved up beside Natasha, offering her aid in standing which she refused.

“Hulk protect friends.” He replied, a passionate hit to his own muscular chest.

“You do that.” Steve signalled him an ok, not sure what else to say. With the Hulks initial anger subsided he inspected his surroundings, his height giving him view over the mounds of sand and dirt.

“Where’s Stark and Barton?” Steve asked his colleague, following Natasha as she hobbled towards the cockpit a good five meters away.

“No clue, came to a few minutes ago… Been dealing with Hulk since.” She informed him; her black bodysuit covered in sand.

Reaching the nose of the shattered aircraft they found Barton hunched over in his seat, groaning as he was coming around. From the look of the footprints in the sand, Bruce had hurried away from the cockpit, unshackling the Hulk as far away as possible under the circumstances.

“We dead?” Clint grunted as Natasha helped him sit up right.

“Not yet.” She jested back in a serious tone. Natasha visually assessed him; other than a few scraps and forming bruises he had fared well.

“What hit us?” Clint then asked, the others helping him from his seat. Establishing he could stand unaided the others pulled away.

“I don’t think anything hit us.” Steve responded, taking a step back out into the open where the sun could reach him.

“Whatever happened, all that matters now is getting away from here. It would have been hard to miss an aircraft like this going down.” Natasha adjusted her footing, finding a better position for her injured leg as she followed Steve, Clint trailing just behind them.

“We find Stark and regroup away from here, come up with a plan from there.”

“Stark’s not showed up?” Clint couldn’t make the others meet his eye-line. There was an awkward silence as the three of them stopped in their tracks.

“Not yet.” Steve turned, his posture confident, determined. Clint went to speak, hesitating, Steve allowed to take a few steps away.

“If he hasn’t showed up yet…” Clint looked around, pressing his dry lips together.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive; Tony could be six feet under.” Steve stopped.  “We might never find him.” The bowless archer choked out.

“He made it.” Steve snapped. “He made it.” He repeated under his breath, continuing the trek back to the main wreckage.

Chapter Text

Steve didn’t know where to start, the jet had gone down in what felt like a matter of seconds. Tony one moment there, the next gone, cargo doors closing behind him.  The gold, red armour having so simply sprung from the metal box. Steve could safely assume that their somewhat safe landing was Stark’s doing. He proceeded to foraged through what he could remember, recalling the jets decrease in speed and the sudden spin that directly followed.

Steve cupped his hand above his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun as he scanned the crash site. The horizon a dirty yellow, mountains distant but surrounded them. He walked past Natasha who was shifting around some shredded metal, her fingerless gloves doing nothing to protect her hands. Clint was searching in more of a grid formation, even though he had his doubts he didn’t want to give up on Tony either. It had hurt to say what everyone was thinking. That this time, Tony just couldn’t make it out.

“Stark!” Steve found himself calling out for his friend. The Hulk growling as he pushed the fuselage the right way up.

“Tony!” Natasha followed suit, shouting out hoping for a reply. For a sign.

The sand was so disturbed from the crash, making it impossible to indicate any impact that could have been made by Tony.

The search continued, no one wanting to call it. The heat was starting to get to them, time becoming irrelevant as they sieved through the sandy dirt. Steve’s attention was then diverted; the Hulk appeared to be in distress, his form shrinking, green skin fading.  Natasha made the first move towards Bruce. Steve stationary not sure whether to remain dedicated to his search or to also assure Bruce was ok. With Clint still focused on finding Tony, Steve made the decision to see to Bruce. On arrival Natasha had gotten him off the ground, Bruce desperately gripping at his stretched trousers.

“Banner?” Steve looked the shaken man up and down.

“I’m… I’m alright.” The scientist stammered. Steve watched him make a realisation, his eyes finding only three of his fellow Avengers on the landscape. “Where’s Tony?” Was all he had to say to create a lump in Steve’s throat.

“We haven’t…”

“Over here!” Barton suddenly hollered. Steve’s head snapped around. Sprinting in the direction of the shout, battling the sand to get to the man. Clint wasn’t in view, his voice coming from ahead of the where the cockpit had made its final rest. Upon reaching higher ground Steve could see torn scraps of metal dusted across the landscape, Clint digging something out of the sand.

“Help me.” Clint demanded out of breath as he pulled mounds of sand away from an armoured hand. He never looked at the Captain, knowing of his arrival from the shadow he cast in his peripheral.  Steve let his knees sink into the unstable ground, hands working together, delving into the sand shovelling it aside. It became apparent that Tony lay on his front, them clearing the sand off his back. As soon as they could, together Steve and Clint grabbed either arm pulling Tony from an early grave, rolling him onto his back once free. Natasha and Bruce lingered behind them, not wanting to get in the way, not unless called to do so. Steve’s hands hovered around a battered metal pipe that pierced the armour in the side, the unknown depth worrying.

“Tony?” Steve could see the arc reactor in his chest was visually humming, light diming before brightening again.

“We need to get him out the suit.” Natasha urged, no longer on standby she found a place at Tony’s side. The armour itself was badly damaged, scuffed and dented.

“Can we?” Clint asked, an urgency amongst the small group.

“You’re going to need to trust me.” Her eyes darted between Steve and Clint. Bruce had taken a couple steps towards them but no further, still clutching his torn and shredded trousers with one hand, bear feet burning in the hot sand.

“Ok.” Steve firmly nodded, Clint’s silence a confident sign he was with her.

“I’m going to need one of you to pull it out.” Natasha exchanged places with Clint, taking his place at Tony’s uninjured side. Her slender hand reached under the armoured arm, grabbing hold of a latch with the tips of her fingers. “Ready?”

Steve clutched the pipe with both hands, his grip aggressive.

“Ready.”

“Now!” Natasha ordered. The protruding pipe was ripped from the armour with tremendous force. Steve tossed it to the side instantly, refusing to notice the blood that coated the extracted end. Natasha fumbled around at the side of the suit, her work resulting in the amour attempting to open. The extensive damage caused in the fall delayed but did not prohibit the suit from unveiling the man within, after consideration and grinding of metal it released him.

Steve unwillingly hesitated. An action he did not normally preform, that alone taking him off guard.

Tony had a clear wound in his side, blood being absorbed by the fabric of his top.

“Is he breathing?” Steve found himself asking. Natasha put her ear above Tony’s lips, pulling back after a couple seconds.

“He’s breathing.” Natasha confirmed nodding unknowingly.

“You need to apply pressure.” Bruce added from behind. Steve obliged, pressing one hand on top of the other over the wound. A groan surfaced from Tony. Blood had dried under his nose, a small cut above one eyebrow from the impact.

“We’ve got you Tony.” Steve comforted.

Tony was in pain, not specifically in one place, he was in pain everywhere. Even in his armour the impact could have killed him. Other than the body-wide discomfort, there was a notable weight on his back. He gave it little concern due to the fact he still battled with consciousness. Becoming aware of voices and movement was a step in the right direction, the weight he had felt being relieved. Next thing he knew he was being pulled free from the suffocating blanket, the restriction he had felt covering his limbs gone, brief reprieve of this feeling corresponded with a new sharp stabbing in his side. The fog cloaking his mind started to clear, breathing hitching every couple of breaths as the world flooded back into perspective. Muffled voices bounced around, trying to convince him to pry open his eyes.

More movement. Hands grabbing at him.

Tony yelped as he was lifted from the ground. Time slipping every time his side was jostled. He was back on the floor, the ground again pressing against his back.

“Tony?” He heard a whisper.

“Tony?” The voice asked a little louder.

Tony then was struck with the truth, his memories pushing to the forefront of his mind. He tried to push his back off the floor before his eyes even opened. Hands pushing him back down, pressure constantly on his side, an ache prominent in that area.

“Stay still, Stark.” The commanding, however comforting voice told him. Tony conceded, opening his eyes after deciding to re-join the world. First to greet him back was Steve, eyes watching closely, a smile forming on his face. “Welcome back.” Steve appeared relieved.

Tony became aware of the other presence soon after, Natasha crouched at his other side, Clint and Bruce standing behind her.

“What I’d miss?” Tony coughed, surprised with how dry his throat was. A burning in his chest was tremendously uncomfortable. He quickly rummaged through what he remembered, re-evaluating the events that had brought him to this moment. Filling in the gaps with what he assumed happened to create a reliable timeline.

“Not much.” Clint commented, the back of his hand swiping sweat from his brow. Even in the shade the air was hot. Not sure how he got there, Tony lay under the shadow being cast by the wrecked fuselage. Tony committed to sitting up attempted to right himself, his side however protested before anyone could force him back down.

“Take it easy.” Steve didn’t move his hands from his wound, the constant pressure thankfully numbing in a way.

“What happened?” Tony did remember more than he could have anticipated from such an incident, but what precisely caused his injury eluded him.

“You got struck pretty good with some debris.” Bruce the first to offer an answer.

“Fantastic.” Tony sighed.

“Tony… the arc reactor.” Natasha spoke, voice laced with concern. “It doesn’t take a genius to see somethings not right.”

Tony didn’t need to see; he could feel something wasn’t right. Steve aided him in sitting up slightly, back against the grounded Jet. Looking down at his own chest he could see the arc reactor struggling, light blinking and dulling in intensity.

“The electromagnetic pulse has disrupted the internal hardware.” Tony informed the others, even though he knew only a couple in his present company would be able to make much sense of what he was saying. “It’s what brought the jet down.” He grunted from a brief stabbing sensation.

“Explains why the power reserves never initiated, the jet was dead in the sky as soon as it was hit.” Clint cursed, wishing he had seen the sighs of their approaching danger.

“That void in the terrain detection system, it was picking up on a blackout zone.” Bruce revealed his realisation, one Tony had already deduced even in his awful state.

“We need to move; we can’t stay here.” Steve could feel danger looming, the longer they remained at the crash site the worse the feeling got.

“You and Barton grab what you can from the jet, Banner will help me with Tony.” Natasha took charge, the confidence her team had in her leaving her unchallenged. Natasha replaced Steve’s hands over Tony’s bleeding side.

“That’s no pleasant” Tony announced through gritted teeth. Steve and Clint moved away, rummaging back through the wreck, this time for supplies.

“Bruce, I need something to bind the wound.”

“On it.” Trousers still being clutched at his waist he retreated to retrieve what she had asked for.

“Stark.” Natasha began. “The reactor is down to you. Banner might be able to help, but no one knows that device better than you.”

“I’ve got time.” He replied rather calmly for the perilous situation he was in. The look on Natasha’s face stating she was not taking his word for it.

Bruce soon hurried back, a tension belt in hand. The belt once having held down cargo, stopping it moving around in flight.

Tony did his best to help them, lifting his back off the floor as they slipped one end of the belt under him. Natasha wasted no time, not giving any council as she combined both ends to make a loop, tightening the fabric mercilessly.

“Can you not do anything awful for five more seconds?” Tony asked after he had managed to get his breath back, having already let out a disgraceful cry of anguish. A groan transcending into a pained laugh. “Your bedside manners need work.” Tony let his head rest back, taking deep breaths to try to soothe what his body was going through.

“The reactor. What do you need?” Natasha got to the point, ignoring his childish remarks, Tony clearly using humour to escape his current situation.

“The suit.” Tony told her, hand on his wounded side, the other steadying himself as he shuffled about to get his wound in a less straining position.

“You get back in that suit, it will kill you.” Bruce reminded the man who made the suit in the first place.

“Yeah I know. Wasn’t the plan.” Tony rolled his eyes; he knew he could sometimes be foolish, but he did have biased interest in keeping himself alive. “The reactor’s process of storing the power generated by the element has been disrupted.”

“Meaning?” Natasha prompted.

“Meaning, its only running on reserves.”

“Can you fix it?” Bruce asked, brushing sand off his own hands.

“I’m not sure.” These words came as a shock to even Tony. “My guess is when the E.M.P went off, it shorted the channels that transfer power.”

“How come the Jet was unable to engage its own emergency reserves.” Bruce questioned.

“The Jets backups run on the same active system during flight, the E.M.P is designed to take out all systems simultaneously” Natasha answered.

 “The only reason the arc reactors reserves were unaffected is due to the fact the power itself is self-sustaining, the hardware that functions to direct that energy was affected.” Tony scrunched his eyes at the coming and going bursts of discomfort from the very thing in his chest he was talking about.

“The element that powers the reactor has been broken from the circuit, no longer being able to feed energy into the cells that distribute it.” Bruce summarised to make sure he had understood fully. Tony offered a thumbs up in response, just happy he wasn’t going to have to explain himself twice.

“Banner!” Clint called interrupting the flow of the conversation. Bruce turned to have a pile of clothes tossed his way, using his free hand to grasp what he could, pressing it to his chest for stability.

“Thanks.” He unenthusiastically replied.  He looked to the others, a gesture made indicating that he was understandably going to get changed, eyes squinting as the sun beamed brightly in his face.

Tony pushed his back against the body of the jet, heaving himself inch by inch up out of the sand.

“Stark?” Natasha asked offering him a steady hand. “What’s the plan?” Her hand latched around his arm as he caught his breath.

“When I think of one, I’ll let you know.”

Chapter Text

Tony slumped over his armour, the short walk anything but easy. Metal hot to the touch, Tony’s other bloodied hand still holding his side. 

His tired eyes poured over the damage his creation had sustained. The sand was stubborn, not to mention persistent in sticking to his skin and clothes.

“Go help the others, this won’t take long.” Tony attempted to be rid of Natasha, her eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

“What are you planning, Stark?” Natasha limped over, sitting beside him. Awkward in her descent due to her own injury.  It was hard to think, the sun’s heat was relentless in its attempt to drain him of any useful cognitive ability.

“I was thinking, maybe I…” Gun fire cut him off mid-sentence, sand being kicked up around them as the bullets struck the innocent ground. Out in the open they were target practice. Natasha gripped what she could of Tony’s shirt, lifting him out of the sand in her endeavour to get them to cover back over the sand bank which was where the nose of the ship had made its final rest. In contradiction to his companions will, Tony turned back, motioning with his hands at his suit. A gauntlet sprung from the rest of the armour. The internal built in thrusters brought it to him, the metal latching on to his hand like a leach. Seconds later the ground erupted where the armour had laid, a heavily armed helicopter on the horizon having been aiming for them.

Thrown back, a ringing in Tony’s ears left him disorientated.

“Up!” Natasha ordered, grabbing hold of him once again,

Snapped back to reality by the imminent danger, he found himself half-walking and half-crawling, adrenaline blocking out whatever discomfort his body screamed back at him. Practically on all fours up the small bank of sand, Tony and Natasha rolled down the other side. Steve arrived swiftly and aided them. Shield up, he led both to cover behind the dismembered head of the jet. Clint and Banner were already there, crouched for protection. Clint stood on the brink of cover with an arrow knocked in his bow, a bow he had fortunately managed to unearth. His quiver however was unfortunately bare, only containing three arrows.

Tony felt weighed down by the gauntlet on his left arm, practically being brought to the ground by tardiness of his limbs and the unbalanced nature of his form. Tony heard Natasha drop her pistol’s magazine into her hand, then the sound of a distinct click of it sliding back into the gun, locking in place.

“Ten rounds.” She let the others know.

Everyone was crouched, with gunfire rattling around them, striking, piercing their metal cover.

“We hold out!” Steve insisted, peeking out in the short reprieve of gunfire.

From Steve’s positioning it was hard to see over the sand bank that safeguarded them, Steve having to turn to what he had seen in the desperate dive for cover. The helicopter’s presence was hard to go unobserved, blades beating the air viciously as they spun in a blur. Steve looked round at his team. They were vulnerable, not prepared for such an attack. Not knowing how many they were to face was not helping in developing a strategic response.

“Natasha you take the left side with Barton, I’ll draw their fire.” Steve directed his team, trying not to be distracted by the struggling light of Tony’s arc reactor. The Captain gripped his shield with a firm hand, the round face ready to be pelted with inferior metal.  “Banner stay with Tony; we go down, you know what to do.” Benching the Hulk might not have been one of his best ideas, but with Banner’s most recent transformation Steve was concerned for his friend, seeing it only as a final resort. His decision also based on the fact their enemy was unknown, sending their muscle in blind was suicide.

Steve sprung from cover, shield up to protect his chest and head. The thumping of the helicopter above menacing, gunfire terrifying. Steve looked up, wishing in ways he had not as the helicopter was right above him.  He had to make a choice, with his shield being peppered with ammunition he decided to roll. Rolling onto his shield and up and over his own head he righted again, launching his beloved shield right at the flying menace. The unbreakable shield met with the helicopter’s blades. Getting caught immediately. The shield found itself in the crossfire of the rotating rotary wings, causing them to simply snap. The helicopter dropped like a stone, spiralling before crashing a distance away. The flames were explosive, heat somehow hotter than what the sun had to offer. The force of the explosion knocked Steve on his back. He shook it off, hurrying back to his feet, the sound of engines starting to approach. He found three pickup trucks barrelling towards him: two front seats to each vehicle and the cargo beds in the back full of armed foes. 

No shield. He was defenceless.

Like a deer in headlights he watched on. An arrow struck through the gaps in the central vehicle’s steering wheel. This event panicked the driver, and the sudden adjustment to wheel caused it to steer into another. Both vehicles rolled, those in the truck’s cargo bed crushed in the carnage. This left one remaining vehicle on four wheels. Steve had to dive to the ground as the remaining attackers resumed their fire in his direction. When forced to reload, Steve pushed himself off his chest, his shield coming in to view. The red, white, and blue stood out even between the orange spitting flames of the wrecked helicopter.

He made a run for it, sand kicking up from the sudden efforts. Gliding through the loose ground he took hold of his shield. More gunfire caused him to raise it defensively, he felt no force against the shield, indicating no bullets struck. Lowering the shield, he caught the final moments of the approaching terrorists, faces covered as they slumped over in their seats, having been fatally shot. The vehicle came to a halt a few meters away.

“Steve behind!” Natasha’s voice cried over the crackling of the flames. He spun to find the single surviving helicopter pilot, holding a pistol pointed right at him.  Steve had to decide, weather to raise his shield protecting what he could, or to throw it offensively.

He never had the chance to make such a crucial choice.

A bright blue, almost white light, struck the foe in the chest; the acquainted sound of a repulsor going off in his ears.

Enemy down, Steve looked to Tony behind him, gloved hand stretched out. His other hand reaching over and grasping his wounded side. Bruce was rushing up behind him, grabbing his arm when he wobbled on his own two feet.

With the gauntlets reserve power all but gone, Tony had to practically pry each piece of metal from his hand. From the single shot, the stored power was drained because the arc reactor was not connected to sustain its energy needs. Steve watched him with an unidentifiable emotion across his face.

Tony wanted nothing more than to sit down and hope the pain would go away. Unfortunately sitting down would have to wait just a little longer.    

Natasha and Clint arrived. Both holstered their weapons, having just dealt with any lingering survivors.

“Everyone alright?” Steve snapped himself out of whatever thought had gripped him. Steve received exhausted but confident nods from almost all members of his team.

“Peachy.” Tony sarcastically replied, as he stripped his arm of all metal, the pieces laying in the sand.

“Barton, what supplies did you find?” Steve asked, wanting to get back on track. Clint scratched his head, wiping sweat off his face regrettably with a sandy hand.

“Other than my bow and Natasha’s gun, some clothes for Bruce.” Clint reviled, clearly disappointed in his haul. “You?” He then asked back.

“Some bottled water, not a lot but it’s better than nothing.”

“Two of the trucks are totalled, we might be able to get some miles out of the third.” Natasha discussed.            

Tony noticed the concerned look in her eye whenever she watched him for more than a second. He could only deduce he looked even worse than he felt, which he had not thought possible in his current state. 

Even with the awful constant pressure on his wound, fresh blood had managed to stain his top again, but he concealed it with his hand easily due to the dark fabric of his top.

“We head for the outpost.” Steve put a hand above his eyes looking at the barren horizon. The ground appeared to flatten at least and harden up ahead, making travel easier.

“Those weren’t the last to come for us.” Natasha clarified. “We might be heading straight into another gunfight.”

Tony watched the great Captain America think, always keeping a sense of calm even in such a dire situation.

“We need to get away for here, then we find somewhere to hold out until nightfall; then we move for the outpost.” Steve instructed. No one questioned him as they stood in a circle formation, hot and sweating.

“Natasha clear the truck; Bruce, Tony, you go with her.” Steve attached his shield to the harness on his back. “Barton we’ll give the wreck one last look for supplies.”

Tasks set, they parted ways again.

Tony could feel the sensation in his legs fading, the loss of blood getting to him. With Bruce’s help they both passed the destroyed Iron Man armour, heading for the pickup truck Natasha was pulling bodies from.

“Saves me a job.” Tony attempted a laugh, looking to the shredded pile of metal, only distinguishable as his armour due to the flecks of red and gold paint that remained. Tony never would have left the suit behind in one piece anyway, not willing to let his tech fall into the wrong hands. And with A.I.M supposedly skulking nearby, the armours complete obliteration was the perfect outcome.  However, this did mean his original idea to use the armour to attempt to contact support, or possible use parts to repair his dying reactor, was destroyed along with the suit.  

The corpses removed; Bruce helped Tony into the back of the pickup. The genius collapsed against the side of the cargo bed, Bruce patting him on the shoulder before taking a seat in front of him.  Clint then hopped in the back with a bag of salvaged goods.

“Natasha you’ve got the wheel.” Steve announced taking the passenger seat, door creaking before slapping closed

“Barton.” Steve then said, holding out a bottle of water through the smashed back windshield. Clint took the plastic bottle from the Captain, settling next to Tony as he unscrewed the lid.

“Here” He offered to Tony. With an annoyingly shaky hand he took it, taking only a few sips before passing it to Bruce. The sensation of the warm water was better than nothing on his tortured dry throat.

The car sputtered into life, pulling off with a few protests from the engine.

“Stark let me take a look.” Even with Tony’s best efforts, Clint had noticed the fresh blood creeping through his top. The black fabric shiny from the slick blood.

“I’m fine.” Tony blatantly lied. Bruce screwed the lid back on the bottle, watching as Clint ignored Tony and pulled back his top.

“How’s it looking?” Steve asked from the cabin of the truck. Clint hissed as he got a better look at the wound. Even with the pressure of the strap, blood had soaked the fabric and was dripping around the edges. Not to mention the arc reactor still dangerously flickered, at times staying unlit for an uncomfortable number of seconds.

“Pains me to say, but he has looked better.” Clint returned the top, taking one of Tony’s hands and putting it over the wound.

With the beating heat of the sun still on his head Tony let his eyes close. Just wanting it all to fade away. The heat, the pain and soon the voices of his team.

Chapter Text

The terrain was now rough, sand replaced with rock and dirt.  The tyres were no longer sinking into the ground but instead rumbling in distress. The further they drove, the more life seemed to return to the landscape, shrubs and trees starting to be a more common sight. The sun never left them, not a single cloud to veil the blazing ball of gas. Never did it sympathise for their cause.

Steve checked over his shoulder, observing his friends in the back. Tony’s head hung, chin against his chest; his eyes closed, head lolling from side to side. Sitting in front of Tony, Bruce also battled to stay awake. Steve was not sure when they would next get a chance to rest, so said nothing. With Clint monitoring Tony, there was no harm in them both taking a break.

“Steve.” Natasha asked for his attention. He turned back, facing forward again.  

Rising over the horizon, along with some hills, was what appeared to be a village in the haze of heat. Crude but established.

“Up ahead” Steve then chimed, alluding Clint to a possible issue.

Clint took his bow in hand, standing to look over the cabin of the truck.

“We should go around.” Clint suggested. The vehicle had slowed but not stopped.

“No.” Steve so eloquently put.

“We’re low on fuel.” Natasha informed Clint, giving justification to Steve’s response.

“Could be walking straight into another fight.”

“We’re just going to have to take that chance. We need to try and lay low before nightfall.” Steve properly responded. He knew it was a risk, it was a risk they had to take. With fuel low and injured allies, there was no way they would be able to trek across the landscape, even under the cover of night. As the village got closer it became more pronounced, the heat rising off the ground no longer masking it. For a few minutes all that could be heard was the rattling of metal and the grumbling of the thirsty engine.

“Wake them up.” Natasha asked Clint, referring of course to Bruce and Tony.

“Rise and shine.” Clint shook the shoulder of Bruce, his head jolting up. “Easy.” Clint was crouched at his side, he attempted to settle the scientist.

“What?” Bruce asked right away, pupils being cast around before settling on Clint.

“Coming up on a village.” Clint caught the man up to speed, moving over to Tony.

“Village?” Bruce mumbled, looking for himself at the buildings ahead.

“Stark?” Clint placed a hand on his friends’ shoulder.

No response.

He rocked the man carefully from side to side, head rolling from left to right.

“Tony?” Clint put two fingers to an artery in Tony’s neck.

Everyone picked up on the concerned tone, even Natasha looked back, the road ahead clear. “I’ve got a pulse.” Clint confirmed, allowing the others to breath.  Bruce moved up on the other side of Tony.

 “His breathing is steady.” Bruce noticed, allowing his own heart rate to settle. The arc reactor in Tony’s chest was still clinging to life, the others theorising Tony’s injuries were most likely due to his sudden unresponsiveness.

Approaching one of the villages many entrances, there was no one in sight. Windows shut; doors closed. Natasha brought the pickup to a stop.  Slight breeze drifting through the bullet-stricken front windshield. Steve and Natasha looked at each other before then simultaneously exiting the vehicle. They kept their eyes forward, backing up to their friends.

“Watch your backs and stay with Tony.” Steve commanded.

“Hello?” Natasha called out; her gun was holstered, ready if necessary.

“We’re seeking help.” Steve then spoke up. One by one faces appeared, doors creaking open as men emerged draped in rugged robes.

“The Avengers?” One man asked in broken English, stepping from one of the huts.

“You know of us?” Steve continued the conversation.

The man nodded, agreeing with the others that had joined him on the outskirts of the small village. 

“We need shelter, medical supplies.” Natasha began the negotiation. Even though she had seen no weapons at this point and their demeanour was clearly not one of violence, Natasha was still prepared for things to turn.

A discussion passed between the group of men; their voices were hushed even though they spoke their native language. Some men seemed to protest, offering only angry glares.

The original villager that had first spoke attempted to settle the group, preventing the debate from becoming more heated. Natasha gave Steve an unsure look, one he decided not to act on. The group adjourned facing the Avengers once more. Again, the same man addressed the Captain, gesturing to one of the houses.

“Come.” He continued to point where he wanted them to go. The man looked past Steve and Natasha, to the others in the back of the truck, persisting they all follow.

“Natasha, you go ahead with Barton. Banner, help me with Stark.” Steve debriefed, teaming them up accordingly. Natasha made no comment simply agreeing with muteness. With the man still pointing to the agreed building, Steve moved to the back of the pickup where Clint dismounted.

Bruce shifted Tony towards the Captain, being as merciful as he could. To spare his wound, Steve took him in his arms cradling the unconsciousness man. Tony’s head resting on his shoulder, arms crossed in his own lap.

The room was uncomfortably bare, the signs of extreme poverty upsetting.  The stone crafted hut had a just a couple of mattresses strewn across the dirt floor, clothes piled in a single corner. Two chairs sat lonely in the centre of the room, between them a hotplate used to cook the owner’s infrequent meals. It was gloomy in the hut, the Avengers able to see each other thanks to the single window and cracks in the wooden door. The sun was relentless in its efforts to breach the small confined space.

“Here.” The man guided Steve’s focus to one of the thin mattresses. In the small space Steve shuffled around on the dirt floor, aided by their new friend in lowering Tony down safely.

“Careful.” Steve could not help giving a warning as the man helped settle his unconscious friend. The stranger’s hand made a move for Tony’s wound, slick, glossy blood visible through the black fabric. Steve watched him hesitate, looking up at him for permission. Steve instead lifted the corner of Tony’s top for him, basically peeling back the soaked fabric. The strap that had been fastened around the wound was still in place, the strap however having now become saturated with blood.

The man then looked to the light in Tony’s chest, weather curiosity or medical concern what brought him to investigate, unknown. He pointed to the arc reactor the blue light visually hummed back.

“It’s a long story.” Steve told him, finding a quick mutual connection with the stranger.

“Someone’s coming.” Natasha forewarned, having leaned herself against the window to spot such an approach. The knock at the door now expected.

The stranger called to the person on the other side, having granted them access they entered. A woman with her head garbed in a scarf pushed open the door, a green satchel bearing a black plus sign in hand. The bag even on first glance was clearly American made; a unit number embroidered on the flap. The villager beckoned her over, calmly speaking to her as she offered the supplies to the Captain.

“Bruce.” Steve summoned the scientist over; he was quick to respond meeting him at Tony’s side. The stranger in front of them on the adjacent side. Bruce rummaged through the satchel once handed to him.

“Think you can stitch him up?” Clint asked from behind.

“I’m not a medical doctor…” Bruce replied, trying not to succumb to pressure as he pulled what he needed from the bag.

“Do your best.” Steve offered him words of comfort, a hand on his shoulder letting him know it was OK.

Even though the supplies had been clearly used previously, sealed packaging opened, bottles half full, it appeared to be enough.

“Put on some gloves.” Bruce handed Steve the thankfully sealed packet of blue gloves, then pulled on a pair himself.

Steve removed his own gloves, then taking the shield from his back, putting it to the side. He inhaled deeply through his nose, reading himself mentally for the procedure.  The stranger watched on, a steady hand on Tony’s shoulder when the genius shuddered slightly. Steve sympathetically watched Bruce struggled to thread the needle, the scientist’s hands understandably trembling. The Captain made no comment, waiting patiently.

Steve did exactly as Bruce asked, down to the letter. His main task involved wiping blood clear from the wound, giving Bruce a clear view of the skin. The wound itself appeared to go in a few inches. For what it was worth, the armour had done well to protect Tony.

It was determined the bleeding was coming from a nicked artery, one Bruce would have to find and seal.

With his bow leaning against the wall Clint watched from a distance, arms crossed nervously, pacing every now and then.

“Scissors.” Bruce asked. Steve presenting them as requested. Bruce snipped the thread having skilfully pulled the artery back together, the profuse bleeding having been brought to a controllable level. Plunging the needle once again caused Tony to flinch. Bruce did not even need to ask, both Steve and the stranger braced Tony against the mattress.

Bruce tried not to rush the final sutures, at this point just wanting it all to be done with. The final task was to wrap the wound tightly, with grunts of protest from Tony, a positive sign the genius was on the brink of consciousness. Bruce pulled his gloves off from the wrist, turning them inside out, prompting Steve to do the same.  Cloths stained with Tony’s blood and a mess of sterilising equipment besieged them.

Time passed and the stranger eventually left, leaving the team alone. Bruce sat with his back to the wall, two fingers on Tony’s wrist as he checked his pulse periodically. The sun was at least finally starting its decent.

“What now Cap?” Clint broke through the silence.

“Nothing’s changed, we make our move as soon as its dark.”

The atmosphere amongst the Avengers was distasteful, an upset among the ranks. Waiting for the sun to concede to the moon was as painful as waiting for Tony to wake up.  With the fading light the arc rector in Tony’s chest seemed to glow brighter, it was nothing more than a cruel trick, the sun’s final efforts to torment the group.

“And go where, we could drive for miles and miss the outpost without even knowing.” Clint decided to challenge.

Steve stood from the wooden chair he had been sat in, turning to face his teammate.

“We were due to arrive hours ago; they will be looking for us.” Steve kept a level head.

“I thought we were the Avengers, give it a few more hours and someone’s going to need to avenge us.” Clint was not specifically angry at Steve; this the Captain was able to figure.

“We can do no more other than our best, and if standing around is our best - so be it.” Steve could tell he was overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness, his words trying to comfort him through the undesirable situation, not to scold him for simply being human. Clint pushed himself off the wall, about to continue to misdirect his frustration when a commotion outside interrupted them. 

“This isn’t good.” Natasha was still at her post by the window. She took her gun in hand. Steve grabbed his shield, both him and Clint finding their way to the window.

Heavily reinforced vehicles had rolled in, not something commonly seen being used by the Taliban or allied forces. The headlights of the cars were like spotlights, fragments of the area being bleached in white light.

“A.I.M?” Steve queried for useful information.

“Looks like it.” Natasha kept her voice low now.

Steve watched in disbelief as the man that had helped them, given them shelter, was pulled to the centre of the village on his knees. Woman’s cries and shouts could be heard all around as those armoured in black stormed the village, each carry a weapon of heavy duty.

“Banner, we’re going to need the Hulk.” Steve looked over to Bruce.

“He’ll rip this place apart!” Bruce exclaimed, having to quieten his own voice mid-sentence.

“Bruce we…” The single shot of gunfire interrupted him. Steve’s head snapped around, looking back out the window. The sun had set behind the mountains leaving a red glow in half the sky.

The villager lay dead in the dirt, having been fatally shot. Even from the distance Steve could see the whites of the dead man’s eyes. A woman’s desperate sorrow full screams were all too much.

It came unexpected, a canister breaching the roof.  Grey smoke engulfed the room in seconds. Those by the window had a few seconds extra of fresh air, allowing them to slap their hands over their mouths and noses. Bruce dropped like a stone next to Tony. Steve lead the charge out the door shield up, the others chocking and coughing behind as they breached into the open. Steve’s eyes burned as his vision attempted to focus. He stood his ground, his friends behind him and his shield. 

They were surrounded, a solid group of twenty troops aiming their armed rifles. Smoke still spilled from the building behind them.

“Ready?” Steve asked his remaining team.

“Always.” Clint skilfully locked his second arrow into his bow, the string flicking it straight into one of the beaming headlights, causing a blinding flash momentary. The abrupt sound of shattering glass accompanying the flash.

Natasha took off running at their foes, three shots, took down three targets. She launched herself at another once close enough, wrapping her legs around his neck before bringing him to the ground and springing back up onto her feet. A careless pointing of her gun at her side brought the man’s life to an end.

Steve launched his shield, knocking some down like dominoes before the loyal metal returned to him, having allowed him to cover some distance. Using the shield as an extension of his arm Steve punched someone in the chest, sending him flying into two others, all three crashing against one of the vehicles.

Clint used his last arrow to shoot out another headlight, giving them another disruption to get an upper hand. Even though it also blinded the Avengers momentarily, it still helped balance the odds. They had the numbers against them and controlling the environment on command gave them a chance. 

Natasha whipped the butt of her empty gun around, smashing it into the covered face of another attacker. There had been no sound of gunfire other than her own, this she did not have time to contemplate.

“Urh!” Clint growled, Natasha turning in time to see him fall face first to the ground. A pinch in her arm suddenly made her world spin, Steve watched her too hit the ground.

Steve refusing to give in, refusing to give up, battled on. Shield now remaining up defensively. Those in front of him still standing, made no move against him. A sharp sting from behind caught him by surprise. With his free hand he reached round pulling a dart from his back. His legs where the first to go numb, his shield for the first time becoming heavy on his arm. His legs gave out unwillingly, the headlights remaining seeming to intensify.

“Hit him again!” He was sure he heard someone order. Another much duller pinch and his face met the floor, lights blurring into a blackness.

Chapter Text

Steve woke coughing, having breathed in dust and dirt. He continued his coughing fit unwillingly, lifting his chest up with one hand and brushing his other hand over the side of his face, the side which had been pressed to the floor. He had been dumped on his chest; a single oil lit lamp hung from the iron door in front of him.

“Nice to see you’re still alive, was starting to get a bit lonely.”

Steve turned in the direction of the voice. Tony lay on his back beside him, clearly exhausted, face pale and clammy.

“Tony.” Steve sighed, pleased to see his friend.

Coughing up the last of the vial dirt he had sucked into his lungs, Steve sat himself up. Tony made no attempt to do the same. Staying on his back, one hand resting over his reactor. The light being immitted nothing more than a soft, glim, blue shadow.

“Know less than you Cap…” Tony tilted his head in his direction. “No clue where the others are.” He took a visibly painful breath. “…Or where we are.”

“It’s ok Tony.” Steve reassured him, not prepared to ask anything of the dying man at this time.

“What happened?” Tony asked, with a hidden concern for his lack of memory.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Steve tried to ease his troubled thoughts. “Ended up a village, patched you up there.” Tony’s fingers glided over his bandaged side. “A.I.M then found us.”

“Natasha was right.” Tony chuckled. Steve was looking at him for an explanation. “Shouldn’t have underestimated them.”

Steve looked around, trying to find some words of wisdom. Looking back, he found Tony’s eyes closed.

“Don’t give up on me now Stark!” Steve hooked a hand under the man’s armpit, pulling his torso up, supporting his back as he pulled him against one of the small cell’s close walls.

“Can’t you let a man pass out in peace?” Tony grimaced.

“Not that easy.” Steve seated himself alongside him.

“Never is.” Tony winced, the pain in his chest constant.

“Tony, the arc reactor…” Steve couldn’t meet the man’s eyeline, Tony just staring ahead at the door that barred their escape.

“I’m sure Nat will be able to wiggle her way out of this one, with or without Barton’s help.” Tony deflected.

“Stark.” Steve insisted, not letting him get out of this one. Tony looked over at the Captain with a brief saddened smirk.

“Contrary to belief Cap, sometimes I don’t have an answer.” He turned his head back towards the door, tired eyes finding the ground.

“There must be something?” Steve demanded in disbelief.

“Not this time.” Tony on the outside appeared he was at peace with his current situation, calm and collected, even while knocking at deaths door.

“Talk to me Stark!” The Captain ordered, voice bouncing around like an echo in a tunnel. Tony opened his eyes, not remembering closing them. His mind quickly relayed his most recent memories, catching him up to speed again after his brief unconsciousness.

“You could probably force the door, these A.I.M guys really aren’t that smart.” Tony mumbled his words unwillingly, his body cold and numb, the pain now gone. “Find the others.”

“I’m not leaving you behind.” Steve insisted, voice a bit clearer now.

“It’s quite poetic actually.” Tony said, ignoring Steve’s declaration that he would not be leaving without him. “I built the first miniature arc reactor in a cave just like this, fitting that this is where it will die.” Tony’s bleak outlook was more than motivating, it was infuriating.

“Not today.” Steve wrenched the man to his feet even though he protested. Hooking Tony’s arm around his shoulder he forced him to stay standing. He went to approach the door dragging Tony along on his hip when it swung open. There was a rumble under his feet, the ever-loud roar of the Hulk bellowed somewhere within the cave.  Natasha stood at the door, Steve’s shield in hand.

“Ready to get out of here?” Natasha smiled.

“Told you.” Tony whispered, referring to his earlier comment, his head leaning on Steve heavily.

Natasha went to help with Tony, but Steve accepted his shield from her and gave her other orders

“Clear the path ahead, we’re walking straight out of here.”

“Try to keep up.” She replied, running ahead. The ground continued to rock, pieces of the ceiling threatening to cave in on them.

“The Hulk is going to bring this place down.” Steve cursed, Tony growing heavier in his hold. Rounding a corner, he found Natasha pinning someone to the rough wall of the tunnel, elbow striking his face, knee meeting his groin. She released the man, the A.I.M agent dropping like a sack of stones.

“A.I.M wanted us alive, for what reason I’m not sure.” Natasha explained as she walked ahead.

“I’ve got a feeling they aren’t going to let us leave alive.”

There was another corner up ahead, Natasha taking lead. A fist flung at her from around the bend, she whirled round dropping out of the way, leg swooping under the legs of her assailant. Clint’s head made a thud against the floor, he blinked rapidly having been dazed temporarily.

“Sorry.” Natasha offered him a helping hand. The archer had no weapons other than his two fists.

“Likewise.” Clint apologised, rubbing the back of his head. The cave shook more vigorously breaking up the reunion, ceiling crumbling in places.

“Let’s move.” Steve ordered.

“This way.” Clint took the lead, guiding the others through the winding tunnels. The growls from the deep were menacing, even though produced by the Hulk. Steve chose to push aside the fact that Tony had been awfully quiet, as well as the fact he was barely helping himself to walk. Steve and Tony began to full behind because of this, forcing the Captain to lift the man over his shoulder. The lack of protest was like a kick to the stomach.

Steve could smell the fresh air, the others out of sight having gone ahead. He rounded the final twist of the maze, the dark sky greeting him. He stopped. Natasha and Clint where just ahead of him, hands in the air as a troop of armed A.I.M agents pointed their weaponry their way.

“Hands up!” One yelled, the flood lights being pointed there way threatening to make them blind. Steve dropped his shield, raising just the one hand, the other holding Tony’s arm keeping him on his back.

“Both hands!” Someone else yelled. Steve did not comply. The troops moved up. “We will shoot!” The yelling continued. Natasha and Clint lowered their hands, looking back at their leader, ready to stand by him no matter what hell they were to face.

There was another low grumble. However, it was not originating from the ground, not this time. This time the sky snarled back, forks of lightning starting to strike in the twisting clouds above. The lightning then struck the earth behind those who sought the Avengers harm, Thor standing in its wake. His eyes were blazing blue with power, lightning crackling and snapping along mjolmers surface. His arms were firm with the strength of a god, and with a mighty swing the hammer leaped into action, leaving the god of thunders hands and colliding and shattering a man’s ribcage. It found two more victims in its path before finding Thor’s hand again. The troops turned, firing at the god. He launched into the air, slamming the hammer down between them all. The lightning was beautiful, the pure power cracking the ground, static in the air. Those targeted where sent flying.

“Bit late?” Clint joked as Thor approached them, the lightning in his eyes subsiding and clouds above settling.

“Better late than never.” Thor jested back.

 The imminent threat having been dealt with; Steve lowered Tony down. He was motionless, the arc reactor showing no signs of life. The light of his mechanical heart was dead.

“Tony.” Steve struggled to ignore the emotion in his voice.

“Stark?” Thor questioned noticing his friends’ peril.  Clint ran his hands through his hair, having to look away.

“Natasha… something… anything?” He asked his grief-stricken teammate. She shook her head from left to right, fighting tears as she brought a hand over her mouth.

“Is it his heart machine?” Thor asked kneeling at Tony’s side.

“It was damaged, it’s not being powered.” Steve didn’t know what to do, he was in a situation with no optimal solution, no clear path he could walk his team that would end with them all leaving alive.

“I have no clue if this is going to work.” Thor suddenly said. He lifted his hammer, resting one side of it on Tony’s arc reactor and tapping the other side lightly. Small sparks spat from the hammer, reactor abruptly flickering before maintaining a steady glow.

Tony gasped; his lungs unacquainted with the sensation of air.

“Yes!” Thor exclaimed. “I had no clue that would work.” He cheered in disbelief.

Tony was in and out of it, the pain had returned, that he was fully aware of. It was the one thing that kept making him come back round.  He only witnessed flashes of what was transpiring. At one point he could have sworn he had heard the gruff voice of the god of thunder. His next view was prompted by a discomforting strain of his side as he was lifted. The black sky was looking back at him. The next thing he knew he was laying on his uninjured side. His head resting on something soft. Deciding to investigate he willed himself awake.

 Looking down at him Natasha ran her fingers through his hair, in a comforting motion. A rocking from side to side leading him to understand that he was again in a vehicle.

“We’ve got you Stark.”  Natasha assured.  “We’re getting out of here.” She pleasantly added.

“Shame.” He whispered, not attempting to move in fear of aggravating any more pain. “Was just starting to enjoy myself.” He was able to joke. Natasha’s smile was a much better sight than the grizzly abyss he was expecting to face.