Chapter Text
He hurt.
Everything hurt.
Moaning faintly blue eyes opened slowly, they felt gritty and sticky like he’d been sick…but that couldn’t be, he hadn’t been sick since the serum.
He drew a breath frowning, hearing his chest wheeze, an almost forgotten sound; but an all to familiar one. He hadn’t wheezed like that since…a sudden panic gripped him. He raised an arm to touch his normally board chest, only to feel papery thin skin and bone. Blue eyes closed as he tried to stem the panic threatening to swamp him. Maybe this was just a bad dream.
He reopened his eyes, his arm still thin and boney. The wheezing was getting louder, his heart hammering in his ears.
He was trapped in a horrendous nightmare.
The heart rate monitor began to deep erratically, Tony dozing nearby woke to the incessant beeping. “Steve?” he asked groggily. Taking a moment to realize the small man was awake. Too large blue eyes looked at him in shock, pale lips parted as he heaved breath in and out. He was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Steve, shhhh…” Tony took a thin hand in his own, speaking calmly, evenly, about nothing in particular just making noise. Waiting as slowly but surely the erratic breaths began to even out, the machine slowing to a somewhat more regular beat.
“Tony?” he asked an edge of panic still in his voice. Steve clutched at the hand holding his like a life line fear evident on his face, “What happened to me?”
The dark haired man sat on the edge of the bed, still holding tight the limp, clammy hand. “What do you remember?” he asked softly, watching a frown crease his brow.
“A bright light and a lot of pain.”
Nodding Tony ran his free hand through his hair, “That’s about sums it up, the crazy bitch hit you with some weird light.”
There was a very pregnant pause, “I’m not Captain America anymore am I…” he said voice tiny and frightened.
Tony shook his head squeezing the hand he held gently. “Don’t talk like that, you’re still Captain America, this is simply temporary,” he said with an encouraging smile.
“Ahhh Captain you’re awake,” the familiar voice of Director Fury filled the room as the man entered in a swirl of long black coat. Tony was about to get off the bed when the grip on his hand tightened with surprising strength for such a slight frame.
“What’s wrong with me Director,” Steve asked putting on a brave face.
“We’re not sure yet Cap, but whatever was done to you has completely reversed the effect of the serum. We have top researchers on it, including Doctor Banner, the living leading authority on the serum.”
Tony snorted, “Worked out well for him.”
Fury shot him a warning look, “For now, Steve, you are relived of Avengers duties, and cleared to return to the Tower. Just keep a low profile for now.”
The blond hesitated a moment, as if debating with himself. Finally he seemed to summon the courage, giving voice to his fear, “Is it permanent?”
Steve refused to look at Fury, not wanting to see the pity and unease in his eyes. Instead he focused on his now thin legs under the hospital blankets.
“Not if I can help it,” Tony answered firmly daring Fury to contradict him.
Holding up his hands in surrender, the one eyed man bid them a goodnight heading out. Tony turning back to the man on the bed, “Well you’ve been given the green light, feel like heading back to your own room?”
Steve nodded slowly still not looking up, “Where…where are the others?” he asked nonchalantly. Tony heard the subtext though, where was Clint?
“Thor is in Asgaurd, the others went back to the Tower a while ago.”
The small man on the bed finally ventured to look up. “Thank you for staying,” he whispered, eyes too bright, cheeks high colour. That small vulnerable statement, made it all worthwhile.
“No problem Cap,” moving off the bed now Tony watched as Steve swung his legs over the side of the gurney. The small form clad only in paisley hospital pants. Tony stood close by watching closely as the figure slid off the bed, wobbling a little before righting. He barely came up to Tony’s shoulder any more.
“Well you came in costume, and it’s not going to fit…” Tony shrugged out of the borrowed SHEILD hoodie handing it to Steve. Biting back his smile, when the cuffs fell past his hands and the hem came to mid thigh. He looked like a kid.
A nurse rolled in with a wheelchair, “Policy sir, we need to wheel you out.” Something in Steve shifted, the blond suddenly angrier then he could ever remember being. Glaring at the hated device he felt the helpless rage well up in him. Mad he was shuffling around in his slippers, and a too large sweater…mad he was back to being weak, and useless once more
Tony sensing something was off, took charge, gently guided him into the chair, “I got it,” he said gruffly taking the handles from the nurse. Turning he pushed the chair heading out and away from the hospital room.
A car was waiting for them downstairs, the night dreary and wet, fitting for Steve’s mood. He said nothing during the ride back, staring out the rain streaked window at the blurry city lights. Eyes unseeing, mind rebelling at every turn.
Tony glanced at the smaller man, worried. Allowing the silence to stretch on until they reached the Tower. Neither speaking until they where on the elevator heading to their living levels. Steve the one to break the silence.
“Do the others know?” he asked quietly.
Tony nodded, “Yeah they do.”
The doors dinged open, the level silent, and dark. Steve felt a small pang, had he been expecting someone to be waiting?
It was late, almost one, probably all asleep he reasoned, excusing the absence in his own mind.
Tony walked him to his room. “You need anything in the night I’m down the hall,” he said softly, trying to smile at him encouragingly. “Get some sleep, tomorrow is a new day.”
Steve said nothing for a long time staring at his door just the same as it had always been, “Thank you, for everything…goodnight Tony.” Opening the door he entered the dark room, shutting the door noiselessly behind him.
As if in a dream Steve collapsed onto the bed with a small sob. The crushing weight of the day falling onto him, threatening to squeeze the life out of his now to small chest. How had this happened?
Shivering he curled in on himself tugging the duvet around him, trembling in the chill of the room. Angrily he cursed his frail form, he had been perpetually cold before the serum, but hadn’t worried since…
Done thinking, exhausted in body and mind he closed his eyes in pain, burying his face against the borrowed hoodie he still wore. Inhaling softly the scent of metal, and sandalwood comforting smells; Tony’s smell. It was rather nice, he thought drifting off.
Tony too was lying in bed thinking. Arms crossed under his head, dark eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, the blue glow in his chest moving with each inhale and exhale. His body ached from the battle, and the hospital chairs; but his heart ached for Steve.
In less then a day he’d gone from being the perfect man, a superhero, to a very normal, fragile human. He tried to imagine such a thing, of being stripped of his suit…it was hard to fathom. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain, anger, and confusion he was experiencing.
More then anything he wanted to go back to Steve’s room and get into bed with the now fragile man. Pull him close, and promise everything would be alright, that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Tony’s lips gave a bitter twist, love was a funny thing he was realizing. He found Steve just as attractive now as he had before. Except now he felt overly protective towards the man. Yawning he finally allowed his mind to rest. Tomorrow was going to be difficult.
-#-#-#-
He woke at five. Eyes opening, wide awake. Dark orbs rolled to the bedside clock cursing roundly when he saw the numbers innocently reflected back. A grand total of 4 hours…spectacular.
Muttering he wearily dragged himself out of bed and into workout cloths. T-shit and shorts, followed by his old MIT hoodie. Lacing up his sneakers he called out to JARVIS, “Let me know soon as he’s up.” The computer confirming already knowing who he meant. Stretching lean muscular legs, Tony headed down in the elevator, morning jog, then maybe a work out, and he’d be in the lab by seven.
True to his predictions at 6:45 he strolled into the kitchen to get his cup of coffee, freshly showered he glanced at the other three already gathered around the table looking at him warily.
“Good morning,” he said casually, pouring himself a cup.
“Morning,” Banner and Natasha returned, Clint said nothing. The archer completely refusing to meet Tony’s gaze when the genius turned to face them, casually leaning back against the counter.
“How’s he doing?” Natasha asked, her face a picture of serenity.
“He’s not a super soldier anymore…what do you think?” Tony returned, sipping his drink.
“He asked where you guys where,” dark eyes betrayed nothing yet steady stared at the blond head refusing to look at him.
All three looked guilty, good, they damn well should. Especially Clint.
“We should have stayed,” Banner said sadly, “I’m sorry Tony.”
Snorting the man held arms akimbo, “Not me that needs the apology Doc.”
Nodding the scientist looked resolute, “I will apologize to Steve, and let him know we’re going to fix this.”
“What do we do with him in the meantime?” Clint finally spoke, still looking away.
“Last I checked he was still an Avenger. Just on the injured list.” Tony said smoothly, hand tightening around the mug.
“Yeah but he’s weak…” Clint finally looked at him, Tony had been waiting. He captured those gray eyes effortlessly. Pinning him.
“I don’t believe a man is measured by the size of his muscles,” he said very quietly. “ Hero’s come in all forms.” Their small battle of wills lasted only a few seconds Clint looking away first. The tension in the room veritably crackled.
Bruce and Natasha on the outside, realized something had just happened. Something momentous, and they had no idea what it was. Nodding to the others Tony calmly left, wanting to jump in victory. Grinning into his coffee he headed for his work, “Twat.”
His feeling of triumphant lasted only momentarily as he strolled into his lab, setting his cup down, pulling up his latest project. His worry over Steve returning. Dark eyes moving to the feeds every few seconds to check to see he was still ok. The tightness in his chest loosing when the readouts where all normal.
Steve didn’t stir until eleven. “Sir, Captain Rogers is up now,” JARVIS announced cutting over his music. Tony lost in his work, looked up from soldering, his first instinct to run up and make sure the man was ok…but something made him pause.
The worst possible thing he could do would be baby the man at the moment. As much as he wanted to fuss and protect Steve from the reality of his situation, he knew deep down it would only make things worse.
Steve had been tough as hell before the serum, he’d read the file…he could handle it, and Tony would be here if he needed him. Turning back to his work the engineer mentally wished Steve luck.
-#-#-#-
Steve had awakened thinking the whole thing had been some horrendous nightmare brought on by fatigue and strain. When he’d got out of bed, though…his limbs were awkward, uncoordinated, and spindly. Heart dropping at the reality of it, he’d wanted to crawl back under the covers. Just stay there until the world once more made sense.
“No way Rogers, you are no coward…” he whispered to himself, swallowing thickly he set his jaw. Rallying he washed, and attempted to find something that fit his skinny self. As he stared at the rather bare closet that fruitless rage returned. All his clothing was made for a tall, broad, man.
Blue eye finally caught sight of the duffle in the back corner; slowly he pulled it towards him, opening the bag. They had returned his property when he’d been unthawed, SHEILD had kept his valuables, and what little he had owned had withstood the test of time.
Digging deep he pulled out a pair of sturdy brown pants, and a favourite stripped shirt. The only clothing he had kept from before. He touched the fabric, a little wrinkled, but SHIELD had cleaned it for him.
He tugged on the cloths, tucking in his shirt, and belting the pants across narrow hips. Taking his time, he slicked his hair, having a sudden out of body experience; perhaps Captain America had been the dream.
Dressed and presentable Steve descended the stair, the kitchen and living room silent. He knew he should probably eat, but his stomach was rolling far too much for food. He figured Tony and Bruce would be in their labs, and Clint… his innards twisted sickly. Steve had never been one to back down from a fight.
He headed for the gym, hearing the rhythmic clang of weights as he stepped off the elevator.
Pushing away his fear he entered the room, the man he was searching for at the far end, wiry frame shirtless as he heaved the weights up and down. Muscles flexing and bunching. Steve didn’t think he’d be able to, even lift twenty pounds anymore.
“Clint?” he called softly, approaching the bench, making sure to keep a respectable distance. The weights dropped heavily, awkward silence settling in the room. The archer sat up slowly, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Steve,” he said just as quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.
The now smaller man scratched the back of his head ruefully, “I…I missed you at the hospital.”
“Yeah…sorry, I had some stuff to do,” Clint shrugged finally looked at him, face passive, devoid of any sort of emotion.
“Oh, I see,” Steve said trying to stop the sudden sinking in his chest, “You maybe want to still go out for that dinner?” he ventured, feeling like he already knew the answer.
“Look Steve,” Clint was standing running a hand through tousled, sweaty hair. “I’m just not interested anymore….” he left quickly then not looking back.
Steve didn’t move for long moments, sinking slowly onto the weight bench, eyes closing at the rejection. He’d been Steve Rogers for a day and he was right back to where he’d been in the 40’s. He smiled mirthlessly, looking up at the bright overhead lights buzzing quietly. What was he going to do now?
The alarm sounded then, paging the Avengers to action. Without thinking he ran, wheezing and winded by the time he reached his room. About to grab his suit he paused. He wasn’t Captain America anymore. It hit him like a fist to the solar plexus, whimpering in pain he sank to his knees. Gasping for breath he clutched his wheezing chest, recognizing the beginnings of an attack.
“Steve?” the voice made him look up, Tony stood in the doorway. He was wearing his armour, blue glow in his chest pulsing steadily. His head was bare, his helmet pulled back.
Noting the small man’s distress he hurried in snatching up a blue something from the table, “Breath,” he said gently putting it to Steve’s mouth allowing him to inhale. Taking several deep breaths, he felt his chest ease, the wheezing stopping.
“Ok?” Tony asked gently patting his frail back, the blond head nodding. Mental fingers held up the blue tube, “It’s your inhaler, for when you have an asthma attack.”
Steve accepted it with trembling fingers, “Thank you…”
Nodding Tony stood, he needed to get going catch up to the others. He was almost out the door when he paused, turning back he held out a hand, “Did you want to come?” he asked softly, “I can fly you.”
Steve looked away bitterly, “Why? I’m useless now,” Tony opened his mouth to answer, when Steve bellowed at him, “Just go! They need you…” he trailed off to a whisper.
Tony stood indecisive before nodding, “Ok, I’ll see you later.” With that he was gone and Steve was alone once more.
The once superhero could hear the jet taking off from the roof. Closing his eyes in pain, he grit his teeth he should be on that…going to save the world. Steve fell to his side on the floor, curling in on himself hugging knobby knees.
He lay there for hours unmoving, his mind a churning in loathing and fear. He had never hated himself more then he did at that moment, being what he was again, fearful he would be this way forever.
He must have dozed off at some point, curled on his floor, for when he came back to himself, it was dark, the Tower still empty and still. His back and side protesting the prolonged inactivity. Slowly, painfully he uncurled his limbs, standing unsteadily.
Steve was feeling very sorry for himself at the moment. In the space of twenty-four hours his enter existence had changed. He was once more just plain, scrawny, Steven Rogers. Wiping burning eyes he stood a little straighter he made a decision. Shrugging into his coat he headed out of the tower and onto the street.