I Thought You Were Different

Survival

They were a well-oiled machine. For the first time, they were working fully in sync, cooperating together with a wordless understanding and a common goal. Steve compressed your chest to keep your heart beating while Tony breathed for you. They were working in a perfect rhythm as if they had practiced this moment for years. They were keeping you alive.

"Barton, how much farther?" Steve called out, his voice faltering.

"Three minutes."

Natasha was ducking around the two men, skillfully inserting a needle into your vein to squeeze bag after bag of fluid into you to make up for the lost blood. "Do better, Clint," she whispered harshly to him, "he's breaking." It had been barely twelve hours that he had you back, and Steve was ready to give you his last breath to keep you alive. Natasha watched both men carefully, ready to take their place if she needed to.

"We're in for landing," Clint called out, "medics are at the door and ready to take her, Cap."

Steve jumped up onto the table and straddled your waist, continuing the compressions as they wheeled you out for the medical team to take over. Tony reluctantly let go when Natasha forced his hands away and held him when he crumbled to the floor, fully exhausted and completely terrified, his anxiety building and making his own breaths ragged.

Once inside the infirmary, Bruce directed the team to the temporary surgical suite they had set up, pulling out the cart of emergency supplies to revive you. To Steve, there were no sounds or sights other than the counting of compressions in his head, and your face as he watched it for any sign of life. When they told him that he could step away, it was as if he heard nothing.

"Captain Rogers, we can take over," one of the doctors offered but with no result. Bruce cautiously moved next to Steve and put his hand on top of his, keeping it there as his motions continued. "Steve, it's okay," he reassured quietly, but his efforts went on without pause. Bruce turned to Clint and gave a nod, with immediate understanding as he ran from the room. Seconds later, Bucky and Sam appeared and flanked him at either side.

"Steve, stop."

"Come on, Cap. You've done enough."

"She can't," he mumbled, the fatigue beginning to show in him.

"She won't, Steve. But you need to let them work," Bucky said quietly, putting a hand on Steve's arm, only to find it brushed off angrily. "Steve, don't make us do this." When he didn't respond, Bucky pointed Clint to Sam's side and moved in; Bucky took Steve's arms with the other two holding his legs.

"Get off me!" Steve hollered, trying to fight them off but too tired to put up his usual amount of fight. "I can't leave her!" He continued to struggle until they finally had pulled him out of the room and the doctors had taken you out of his line of sight. When they released him, he stumbled back against the wall and slid to the floor, panting and staring at his shaking hands. "Buck..."

"We'll stay right here with you, for as long as it takes, okay?" Bucky said, taking a seat in front of his friend, with Sam taking his place next to him so both men were blocking his route to the door. Bucky had no idea what to say in a time like this; he didn't know anything that would make Steve feel better or make him understand what was happening. All he could do was be there.

"You did good, Steve."

~~~

After three hours, Steve sent Sam away. Thirty minutes later, Bucky followed. Steve hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, siting in an almost statuesque stillness. Natasha and Clint had passed by him without stopping, sensing that he wanted to be alone, but Tony wouldn't have it. He sat on the floor next to Steve, silently waiting with him until the quiet became too much.