Chapter 2
After a long moment of just staring blankly at the unconscious child, Steve managed to tear his gaze away and focus it on Fury with razor-like intensity.
“Report.”
Later, when he had time to think about it, he would be horrified about his lack of manners and curtness to one such as Fury. Just at that moment? He desperately wanted to know that his teammate was, well, he obviously wasn’t alright…
Fury quirked an eyebrow; it was rare for him to be ordered to give a report these days, but he decided to not cause difficulties. There was a thrum of tension running beneath the Captain’s muscles that suggested it best if he just answered the man.
“The doctor’s reports are inconclusive.” Fury was not man enough to admit that the thrill of annoyance he felt on saying those words was based partially on the fact that they didn’t have the answers. His doctors were the best, for them to be confused was…a source of irritation.
“Physically, he appears to be a child, they reckon that he’s eight years old, though we need him to confirm that. He has some minor cuts from where the armour caught on him and his chest is a mess. It seemed that as he was shrinking, his body tried to reject the arc reactor, but the armour held it in place. It therefore tore through part of his chest muscles. He also has some broken ribs; the arc reactor was attached to them, and as his body tried to expel it... That’s why it took so long; the doctors were doing some major surgery. He should be fine, but will need to take it easy for a while. Otherwise, he seems to be alright. Though we don’t know what his mind will be like. He’s under some heavy medication right now and hasn’t awoken yet.”
Fury fell silent as he allowed Rogers the time to chew over his words. It wasn’t a pretty picture he’d painted, and he’d left out the doctor’s concerns over infections. Nor had he mentioned that the kid’s heart had failed twice during the surgery and had had to be restarted. It was unlike the man to hold back the truth out of kindness, but the way Rogers’ face had crumpled for just a moment suggested that enough of the rather grisly image had been passed over.
“What. What about the rest of his bones? We could hear them snapping.”
“That was most likely the bones shortening themselves as Stark shrank. There does not appear to be much damage from that. The x-rays show several of his bones to be in a state of healing, or had been broken previously, but that shouldn’t cause him too many issues. They’ll ache, but it should be controllable through medication.”
“So, now…?”
“We wait. Nothing else can be concluded until he wakes up and we see what sort of state his mind is in.”
Sometimes Fury really did wish that he did not have such a blunt personality. The time when his words caused that look to cross Captain America’s face… that was one of them. He remained silent while he waited for the Captain to pull his thoughts together before adding on, “The doctors have said you can all wait in here though if you want. You shouldn’t disturb him.” Always best to add a bit of sugar with the sour.
Steve gave a sharp nod and exited the room to go and coral the rest of his teammates and update them to the situation.
The moment he walked back into the waiting room he was practically pounced on by Clint and Thor as they assailed him with questions about their team-mates health. Never mind that they’d been sitting there for seven hours (other than having slipped off one-by-one for showers and to change into normal clothes) they all still seemed remarkably energetic.
Bruce and Natasha both remained in their positions though they immediately looked at Steve with the same intensity. Bruce was sitting at Natasha’s feet where he had at one stage had a nap. Natasha had one hand carding its way through the scientists curls, an unspoken attempt at keeping him calm through the worrying hours. She knew herself well enough to know that it helped to assuage her own worry if she focused on that of her team-mates, they were all well versed enough in each other’s behaviour patterns to allow her to comfort them through trying times.
Steve hesitated, trying to decide what was the most important information to give out first. That Tony had the body of an eight year old? That he was still unconscious? That he had a truly grotesque sounding chest injury that no child ought to have?
“We can go and see him.” Were the words he heard himself say. That… That hadn’t been his plan. Still, what words could he offer to prepare his team-mates? At least they had all seen him in this child’s body…
“He’s. Well, he’s not in brilliant shape. Director Fury explained that the breaks are mostly healed, or are healing apart from in his chest. It appears that as he…shrunk… the arc reactor did some serious damage. He will be alright, but he’s currently still unconscious and they don’t know what his mental state will be like.”
“You mean if he’s actually a child, or an adult in a child’s body, right? How is this our life…” Clint moaned, one hand scrubbing its way down his face as he closed his eyes momentarily. “Seriously. How. From mind-controlling rods to… this. No offence, Thor buddy, but none of this sells Asgard pretty well.”
A look of shame crossed over Thor’s bearded face, “You have not seen the best of my people.” He admitted, hints of anger mingled with pain contorting his normally peaceful expression. Steve laid a hand on the god’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort.
“I’m sure they are mostly better than this, we just need to meet those who don’t want to take over Earth.”
Thor nodded, but the look of guilt did not lift from his countenance. “Still, if I had not come to this planet, then these problems would not be assailing you now. I… apologise for the inconvenience that I have caused.”
Clint stepped closer; resting a hand on Thor’s other shoulder, “No apology needed. If you hadn’t come, some other jerk would have who we wouldn’t like half so much. Besides, personally speaking, I much prefer my life as it is currently than how it was before. Sure, I was busy, but I didn’t have many I can rely on as heavily as I do on you all. Disaster may have well brought us together, but we are a team now. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
“You speak truly,” Thor replied, a bit of the guilt seeming to ease from the god’s unusually heavy expression. “Thank you. I would still have preferred to not have brought this down upon you all, but I do not regret all the consequences my actions have led to. We are a team of mighty warriors who have formed bonds strong enough that legends will be sung of us long after we have passed. Of that I have now doubt. For now, my friends, let us go to our ailing comrade. He should not be alone right now.”
Steve nodded, blinking in surprise as he noticed that Bruce and Natasha had somehow squeezed past the huddle in the doorway and were waiting for them down the corridor. Natasha arced one finely manicured eyebrow as though to question what they were waiting for, before continuing to make her way down the corridor.
Steve felt a slightly rueful grin cross his expression as the rest of the team hurried their way towards Tony’s room. Natasha was not one for emotional talks; she would sit there and analyse why you felt what you did with someone, or she would quite happily correct you, but she preferred to demonstrate her caring through actions, sometimes violent ones. He had no doubt that Thor would at some receive a firm ‘talking to’ in his far too near future.
As they entered into the…child’s room, Bruce immediately made his way over to the machines engulfing the bed to see what readings he could glean from them. It was something he strongly disliked about SHIELD medical – they didn’t have paper charts anywhere that he could handily look at. All information about the patient was instead kept on a computer in the corner of each room.
Still, at least the rooms were large enough that several people could comfortably stay in them. Most hospitals had such small rooms that it would have been highly uncomfortable for five or more people to spend large amounts of time in them. SHIELD, however, was well accustomed to the fact that most of its agents worked in some form of team or other, and team-mates were eager to check up on each other.
SHIELD medical was, after all, exceedingly well funded.
The sheer amount of diagnostic equipment did not paint a pretty picture; the ECG machine was only to be expected. The boy lying in the bed would clearly need to be having his heartrate monitored after all, particularly if his chest was as bad off as it had sounded in the very brief description Rogers had given them all.
Bruce had been more than capable of reading between the lines that the Captain had given them. He had seen scans that had shown precisely how the reactor had been attached to his friends chest. Metal rods, four on each side of the cavernous hole, had been wired to different rib bones to anchor the structure into place. That wasn’t even to speak of the damage that the casing itself could have caused…
If those rods hadn’t detached smoothly…
Well. Monitoring of his heart rate was only to be expected. Bruce was only surprised to see that the boy wasn’t intubated as well. It seemed as though the spell had been sort of healing him at the same time as causing damage… Maybe there hadn’t been too much damage to his lungs that the doctors here had had to rectify.
The EEG machine was a bit of a surprise, the Captain hadn’t made it sound like To- the boy had gone into a coma, so why were his brain patterns being monitored? Perhaps they had given him an anaesthetic for some reason and were still using it to work out how deeply under he was? Or they were concerned about a seizure? Not enough data for him to know. Still, the boy’s brainwaves all appeared normal, that was something at least.
The boy’s blood pressure wasn’t too terrible. It was quite low, but that was only to be expected with the amount of blood loss that surely must have occurred. There ought to be something in the IV unit that would stabilise that… Indeed, the extra blood infusion he was clearly in the process of being given would help with that.
All in all? He was bad. The low numbers on far too many of those machines aptly demonstrated that, but not life threateningly bad. Pretty much what the Captain had said. Saying that, he hadn’t chanced checking the boy’s body himself. Most unlike him, he normally preferred to garner as much data as possible from the patient rather than machines.
That seemed a bit more difficult with this patient.
“How is he?” Natasha asked, her words short and to the point as ever.
“As Steve said, he’s not good but he should be fine. He’s damn lucky they haven’t had to intubate him.”
A subtle wince crossed Clint’s expression; they all knew how much Tony hated being intubated. It was tougher to see too, some massive great tube sliding its way down a friend’s throat. Knowing, knowing how necessary it was, and that your friend wouldn’t be able to breathe without it. Clint could only imagine how much more difficult it would have been while their friend was in this child’s form.
“Any clue on when he’ll wake up, Doc?” came the hesitant question pitched at a softer than normal volume. It was so hard to speak at a normal tone when in the presence of an unconscious person. He didn’t want to put any further pressure on Bruce by forcing him to give them an estimate, but he wanted to know, damnit! How long were they going to have to wait to find out if there was an adult or a child residing in that body? Patience was one of the archer’s many fortes, but this type of patience was never easy to bear.
“None, as of yet, I don’t know how his stats have altered during the surgery. That would give me some clue as to when, but without that…” the distracted doctor cum scientist replied as he continued to pore over the information available to him.
As his teammates quietly discussed things among themselves and slowly began to settle down on some of the chairs that littered the room, Thor observed the figure in the bed in a silence unusual to the God. He could not chase away the lingering feelings of guilt despite his teammates words.
Amora had come here specifically for him.
She had aimed a spell at him that Iron Man had intercepted.
They did not know what the effects of said spell were other than the obvious.
They did not know how the effects of the spell would affect a human as opposed to an Asgardan.
They did not know how the very presence of the arc reactor could have disrupted the spell, let alone the effects of the armour.
There was so much that they did not know, and there was no one they could question about it. And his teammates tried to say that this was not his fault.
True, he had not cast the spell at Tony Stark himself, but…
The God’s mighty fists clenched, the hand holding Mjolnir at his side even trembled from the force that he was gripping the shaft.
He knew that Amora had a … disliking for him as their romance had died out. He did not expect her to go to such measures, but he knew she was vengeful! Gone was the girl he had and his brother had so care freely played with in their younger years.
With a grunt, Thor spun around, allowing his cape to wrap itself around him in a fashion that would have caused Fury to be most envious. “My friends, I will return with answers.” He swore, before exiting the room too rapidly to hear any protests they have may have offered.
Steve watched Thor’s hurried exit, a momentary annoyance curdling within his belly over the fact that Thor did not seem to want to wait to see if Tony was alright before he snuffed it out. Thor obviously felt horrendously guilty over the day’s occurrences, and if he could be more useful trying to find out some answers? Then Steve would not judge. Instead he rolled his shoulders, trying to lose some of the tension and returned to staring the slumbering (not dead) child.
The team remained mostly in place for three further days, alternating out to do things such as shower and eat. Thor checked in twice a day in the morning and evening, each time his shaggy face looking slightly more downhearted as he reported no further news.
It was on the evening of the fourth day that something finally happened. Clint and Natasha were playing a game of backgammon (Natasha was winning, despite what Clint claimed). Bruce was reading off his starktablet; Steve suspected that he was reading from various scientific journals considering the copious amount of notes he was scribbling down in a typical doctor’s scrawl, whilst Steve himself was sitting there reading from an old-fashioned paper novel. (He would hopefully be able to wind Tony up about this shortly).
The almost peaceful air was disrupted by one of the multitude of machines surrounding the bed beginning to beep. Bruce’s eyes flicked instantly to the machine as he pushed himself to his feet, allowing the tablet to fall to the floor with hands that no longer cared. “I think…”
The words were broken off by the scientist hurrying to the side of the bed, “Tony…?” he called softly, taking one hand oh so gently and rubbing the skin between his own, much larger hands. “Tony, can you hear me?”
It took Steve only seconds longer to reach the bed than it did Bruce, and he blinked down at the unfamiliar countenance.
The boy’s eyes were open.