Maybe Probably
The heat of battle was finally wearing off as Steve sat in the Wakandan med bay, legs stretched out on a hospital bed. Bucky sat to his left, a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder. Though Steve’s focus was elsewhere, he could appreciate the efficiency of T’Challa’s medical staff; the moment the hordes of victorious wounded had appeared (courtesy of portals from Steven Strange and company), they were triaged, thoroughly cleaned, and treated immediately with great care.
The updates on Tony came far and few between from various grave faces that Steve couldn’t remember if someone put a gun to his head. Relief had swelled for a moment at their triumph that had seemed so impossible, but the sight of Tony crippled and propped up against warped metal and jagged concrete extinguished that feeling immediately.
Steve had stood a few feet back, Thor coming to stand next to him, and watched the scene unfold as horror and guilt gnawed at his heart. He wasn’t ashamed when hot, wet tears spilled from his eyes.
Sonny had rematerialized inches away from Tony, and a part of Steve breathed a sigh of relief. After Steve stood up and readjusted his broken shield, walking to face Thanos’s army on his own, she had combusted. He wasn’t sure that she had ever been immaterial, intangible, for that long. Vicious attacks from the ground and the air had made him grit his teeth with nerves, because if they were going to fight, Steve wanted Sonny by his side. The sight of suddenly destroyed Leviathans and mysteriously ravaged sections of troops were small mercies, letting Steve know she was alive and fighting with vigor.
Sonny spared Steve a glance, scanning him for severe injuries, but she must have not found anything too concerning because her focus was quickly redirected. Steve watched as she knitted her fingers through Peter’s hands and pulled him to her side, allowing Pepper to speak to him. However, instead of backing away, she had closed her eyes and stayed close to Tony’s side.
“You can rest now, Tony,” Pepper had said. Her voice shook, and there were tears in her eyes.
Sonny shook her head and had taken Pepper’s hand as well. Steve had assumed it was a comfort, something small to assure Pepper that Sonny was there, that Pepper would never be alone. It was only when he could taste the electricity in the air did he realize it was much more.
“Thor, hit me,” Sonny had commanded, with all the certainty in the world.
Without hesitation, Thor had complied, summoning a strike of lightning toward her that lit her up like fireworks on the fourth of July. Steve had jumped forward to– he wasn’t sure what he could to, but he needed to be with her, be there for her. Thor’s strong grip held him in place. He could do nothing but watch as Sonny’s skin began to glow, blue light seeping out and emanating from every pore.
Sonny had released Pepper to place a hand on Tony. There was no shock or explosion like everyone had been expecting, holding their breath in anticipation of the contact. Instead, small, blue sparks began to dance across Tony’s fingertips and ups his body along the path of irradiated skin. Sonny had shut her eyes and leaned forward, letting go of Peter to place her other hand on Tony, producing more of the same blue sparks.
She was gritting her teeth, but her hold on Tony was still gentle as she spoke. “I’m– meet us in Wakanda.” She had phased away, Tony disappearing with her.
That had been nearly seven hours ago. Since she had phased away, Steve had seen neither hide nor hair of Sonny.
Dr. Cho had given Steve strict instructions not to move for at least 12 hours after a thorough examination of every injury, and the Wakandan nurse with her had fervently agreed– so he had waited for Sonny to come to him.
Steve had seen Sam, limping and bandaged but still grinning. The two had exchanged a hug– it had been quick but tight and full of emotion that both were too weary to vocalize. Natasha had sat with him for over an hour, mostly in silence; the first few minutes had been full of tearful conversation and lighthearted teasing, but when silence had fallen, they took comfort in the respite and each other’s company. It was only when Bruce and Clint appeared at their side that Natasha made any effort to leave. Bruce had given Steve a soft smile and a pat on the shoulder, seemingly appeased that he was following the doctor’s orders for once; Bruce and Natasha had slipped away to whisper to each other in hushed tones which left Steve with Clint.
“Okoye helped me find and reach out to Harley’s mom and sister,” Clint had sighed, his head falling forward, so he was no longer meeting Steve’s eyes. “God, Steve. I mean, they just learned that he had to live without them for five years, and now they have to learn to live without him forever. I don’t–” He broke off.
“They have each other. And, if you choose to, they can have you to turn to.” Steve’s voice had been soft, reassuring.
“Why would they want to lean on the man responsible for Harley’s death?”
Steve gave him a sharp look that evolved into something less fierce but no less piercing– his famous Look of Disappointment. “Harley would never have done what he did if he didn’t know for sure that his family would be taken care of. That means you too, Clint.”
Clint had eyed him curiously for a moment before nodding. He stepped away and walked in the direction that Bruce and Natasha had gone in just a minute ago. Steve had been fighting it for hours, but he finally allowed the quiet loneliness to draw him into the numbness of sleep.
When he had woken up, Steve saw that Bucky had taken up residence next to him, his metal arm looking exactly as it should– every scratch and dent had vanished, every trace of war had been wiped. Bucky looked worse for wear, but he didn’t say a word. His eyes flicked from his book to Steve when he felt Steve shift, but that was that.
Now, sitting in his bed, Steve had to wonder if Sonny was simply avoiding him. Nobody he asked had given him a straight answer, and Bucky had been given the same run-around. Steve’s one (weak) attempt at finding her had been thwarted by both his body nearly collapsing the moment he turned the corner and Bruce spotting him as he grasped the wall for support. He was still working up the energy for a second attempt.
He tilted his head closer to the door when he heard Peter’s voice in the corridor. The walls here were reinforced, and Steve had to strain his ears to pick up on the exchange between Peter and a woman he was almost certain was Dr. Cho.
“She hasn’t stopped, and her eyes are still blue, Dr. Cho!” Peter was frantic. That much was clear. Steve was also certain he was talking about Sonny. “I think– the surgeons said they’re almost done, and they worked around her, but I– she smells like smoke, Dr. Cho. You have to come,” Peter begged.
Steve stiffened. Sonny had been in the operating theater with Tony this entire time? She looked exhausted the last time Steve had seen her. He understood her desire to save Tony, but not for the first time he wondered whether she would do it at the cost of her life– he didn’t have long to wonder because alarms blared not too far away just moments later.
Steve ran out into the hall, finding his second wind. He followed the alarms and stood outside the operating theater, facing a dozen or so of the Dora Milaje and Nakia who was at the front.
“Is it true?” Steve asked her, maybe more demanding than he had the right to be. “Is she…”
Nakia stepped forward and guided him away from the doors and back through a hallway or two. “Your Dr. Cho and the top surgeons in Wakanda are doing their best to care for both of them, Captain. It is my understanding that Sonny was the reason your Iron Man even made it to the operating table, and what she is doing is ensuring that the surgeons have the time and opportunity to save him,” she claimed, apprising him of the situation. She sighed, and pity flitted across her features for a moment before the steely resolve was back in place. “But, if it brings you comfort, and if you will stay in your bed, I will check on her myself.”
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, adopting a sheepish smile. “Thank you, Nakia.”
Steve made his way back to his room, still tense but less panicked. Keeping his cool seemed to be a lost cause, so he settled for maintaining a surface-level calm as he waited for Nakia’s update.
Nearly an hour passed before Peter appeared in the doorway of Steve’s room where Steve was waiting alone. Bucky had left some time ago to check on the others and make sure things were running smoothly.
“Can I come in?” Peter asked, looking more like the teenager Tony had recruited than the man he had grown to be– shy, awkward, and uncomfortable. When Steve nodded, Peter stepped nervously into the room, taking the seat Bucky had vacated not long ago. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Nakia said you came to check on Sonny,” he started, looking at Steve as if to see if that was true. “She and Mr. Stark are out of surgery, and we finally managed to separate them, thank God. Sonny woke up the second we managed to pull her away, and then after we reassure her that Mr. Stark is okay, that he’s gonna make it, she passed out. But– uh– neither of them is allowed visitors until the morning.”
Steve stilled for a moment. He was unmoving, but his thoughts ran rampant. Part of him wanted to laugh because it was so Sonny to wait until she knew Tony was okay before passing out. Part of him wondered what the implications of using so much power for so long might be, if it would have a lasting impact on her. Part him was just miserable, because all he wanted to do was hold her and see for himself that she was finally safe. “But both of them…”
“They’re both gonna be okay. Really, Cap,” Peter promised. His eyes were solemn.
“We missed you around here, kid,” Steve admitted with a fond smile, ruffling Peter’s hair. He laughed as Peter immediately whined and moved to straighten it out. Steve’s smile dropped as he thought about everything Peter had missed, everything Peter had now lost. “And I’m sorry about Harley. I wish there were something we could do.”
Peter didn’t reply for a long time, but he didn’t leave the room. He just sat at Steve’s bedside and stared at his hands. “It’s hard,” he finally said. “To know that the reason I’m back– that we’re all back– is because he sacrificed himself. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop being upset, but I’m trying to remember to be grateful, to not dismiss his sacrifice.” Peter was quiet again, but it was a weighted silence, and the emotion behind Peter’s next few words hung in the air. “I think… I think I owe you a lot. A lot of thank-yous. Because, Sonny– I mean– she must have–”
Steve took pity on him and cut him off. “You don’t owe me anything for being there for her, Peter. I love her.” If only things were that simple. “I’m sure you would have done the same.”
“Maybe,” Peter said speculatively. “Probably. But I don’t think I’m the one she would have wanted there.”