Chapter 1
If he was being honest, Steve really wasn’t sure what was going on. One minute he was asleep in his apartment, the next he was stood in the middle of a giant field in the pouring rain, soaked in mud from the knees down fighting- well, God knows what they were, but he didn’t care, he just knew that they weren’t from earth and were trying to hurt people.
They had been fighting for 5 days and 6 nights straight now. It was coming up to 115 hours. 115 hours of constant Fighting. At least, constant fighting for Steve Rogers. Tony, Nat, Clint and Rhodey? They got a break everyday. They staggered it so that every 12 hours they took a 3 hour break for food, drink and sleep, before returning to the field and letting another person take a break.
Nat took a 3 hour break, returned to the fight, Clint took a 3 hour break, returned to the fight, Tony took a 3 hour break, returned to the fight, Steve took a 3 hour break, returned to the fight, Rhodey took a 3 hour break, returned to the fight, and then it was Nat again. The system was sound, smooth, perfect. Except Steve never seemed to get one.
At first, he simply didn’t notice, his enhanced body and mind able to last far longer without a break. And neither did anyone else, apparently, because no one mentioned it. Finally, on the second day, however, Steve started to slow down.
“Who’s on break now?” he asked into the comms.
“Rhodey, he went out about an hour and a half ago.” Tony replied. Steve frowned. That meant they had skipped over him completely. Clearly, for the past few days he’d been cut out the cycle, and no one had noticed.
He figured it was his fault. He should be keeping track of when it was his turn. He did a quick self-assessment, and decided he could wait until it was his turn. After all, he didn’t need as many breaks as the normal person, and he was the only enhanced person on the field. He’d be fine.
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He was not fine. Another day had passed, and he’d missed his break again, distracted by a bystander who needed medical assistance. Now, the stupid things had him surrounded, had swarmed out of nowhere and he could barely land a hit. He tried to reach people through the comms, but he was breathing too hard to make a coherent sentence. At least 3 were coming at him at all times, and at least 2 were hitting him at all times. Luckily, his harsh breathing and half finished words got the general message along, and Clint rained down a storm of arrows on them.
“Thanks man.” Steve wheezed, desperately trying to catch his breath.
“No problem, Cap’n!” Clint mock saluted before rushing back into the battle.
Steve took a deep breath, and groaned when his ribs protested, at least two were broken, and 4 were definitely bruised. He hated to admit defeat, but he wasn’t sure how much help he would be when just breathing hurt. Not to mention the whole ‘I can barely keep my eyes open’ thing.
“Hey- uh- guys? Can, can I take my break a little early? I’m pretty sure my ribs are busted.” The comms were silent for a couple seconds, then Rhodey answered.
“Can you last another hour?” Cap almost pointed out that his bruised ribs would be healed by then, and his broken ones reduced to bruised, but Rhodey wasn’t done. “It’s Tony’s break right now and he got sliced pretty bad earlier. He got stitched up and he kind of needs all the rest he can get.”
Steve frowned, a blurry memory of Tony getting one of the alien's claws dragged across his shoulder. His break was only an hour away, and obviously Tony needed it more. But there was this tiny voice in his mind telling him that it if he wanted to help he had to take a break. His punches were sluggish and his vision was swimming. He almost said this, but immediately stopped himself. What was he thinking? Tony was injured and didn’t have an enhanced healing factor. He would be fine for another hour. He had to be.
“Y-yeah that’s ok. I can wait.”
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A half hour later and Steve was sent crashing into a stone wall. He felt something in the side of his head crack, and for a second he thought he’d broken his ear or something, but when he reached up, he felt his comm, cracked in half in his ear. Pulling it out, he assessed the damaged and was relieved to see it was easy to fix.
“Hey, do you guys- can you hear me?” he called into the comm. There was no reply, and Steve sighed, setting out to find somewhere safe to fix it.
Tony and Bruce had taught him a fair amount about technology and engineering, and he turned out to be fairly good at it. He was better than the average person, but a fair way off of Tony, and even Peter. But long story short, fixing the comm would’ve been easy under normal circumstances. Normal circumstances being safe in the lab with all the tools and supplies he needed, after a good nights sleep and at least one meal in the past 4 days. As it was he was in basically the opposite situation, unsafe, unrested, unfed, and no equipment.
Ducking behind a crumbling wall, he sat down and began to fiddle with the wires. He couldn’t help but bitterly think how much easier it would be if his hands weren’t shaking so damn much, and his vision wasn’t fuzzy and wobbly. In just over the time it would have take him to make a comm from scratch in the lab, he had finished fixing the broken one.
“He guys, is- is this thing on, working?” He rasped, wincing at how tired he sounded.
“Cap! Man I was starting to worry about you!” Clint replied, relief evident in his voice.
“Steve, glad to hear from you, you’ve been silent for over an hour.” Nat smiled.
“An hour?” he asked weakly, dread settling into his stomach. He’d missed his break. Again.
“Yeah,” Tony answered, then paused before continuing. “You doing ok bud?”
“I’m tired.” The admission came rushing out in a sigh, and he hated how young it made him sound, how much like an annoying child he sounded, but God he was so tired.
“Oh shit, yeah, this was your break, wasn’t it? We can get Rhodey back out on the field if you want- he’s just gone to get his wrist checked out, something about a sprain, but I’m sure he’d be happy to come back out in a sec.” Tony rambled, but it snapped Steve back to reality, and he felt the need for a break slip to the back of his mind.
“Whoa, no, Tony it’s- it’s ok, if Rhodey’s hurt then he needs to be priority, I can last.” Steve fought against himself to say, fought against the ache in his bones and the desperate cry for rest in his head, fought against the feeling of emptiness, having had barely more than an energy bar every 12 hours or so, and against the pain in his side from the punch that had sent him into the stone wall in the first place. He was also fairly certain his ribs hadn’t healed as quickly as hey should have done, but he couldn’t let himself bring Rhodey back when he could be injured.
“Are you sure? Thats another 12 hours until you get a break.” Nat said, sounding unconvinced. In all honesty, Steve had meant until after Rhodey was done, not until it was his actual next turn, but obviously that hadn’t been clear, and he worried he’d sound too selfish if he corrected her. So he swallowed the lump in his throat, pushed through the wave of dizziness and said:
“Yeah, of course.”
He regretted it the moment it passed his lips.
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It was 117 hours after the fight had started before Steve had to give in. Nat had been injured 11 hours after Steve had missed his 8th break, and had been rushed back to the base camp where they took their breaks. Tony had been forced back into the field an hour early so that Nat could get medical treatment, and Steve had wanted to cry.
Less than an hour until he finally, finally got a break, and it had been ripped out of his hands. No one could take breaks anymore, they needed at least 4 people on the ground fighting. 10 hours after the out-ruling of breaks and Steve new he couldn’t do it anymore.
Nausea was rolling in the pit of his stomach and dizziness coated his every movement. His eyes were barely open and his vision kept clouding, prompting him to blink, and he was vaguely aware that each blink was getting longer. His stomach, despite the nausea, was growling, and his head was pounding. He was pretty much useless in the fight at this point, punches slow and uncoordinated and his defence getting weaker with each minute that passed. At the back of his mind he knew that there couldn’t be more than a half hour left of the fight, knew that he was so, so close to the finish, and yet he found himself calling the team.
“G-guys? I don’t…I think I need help.”
Silence, then:
“Cap?” It was Tony, and he sounded concerned, but Steve didn’t really know why. He waited for someone to answer Tony, before he realised he was talking to him. Huh, it was funny how that had just slipped his mind, he’d completely forgotten that he’d even started the conversation. What did Tony want again?
“What?”
“Are you…okay? You sound kind of, I don’t know, spacey?”
Cap couldn’t find words to answer, the nausea and dizziness suddenly rising, and it was all he could do to stay standing.
“Cap?” That was Rhodey, Steve was pretty sure.
“Damn it, has anyone got eyes on Cap?” Rhodey shouted, and Steve winced, pulling the comm out of his ear and throwing it to the ground. His vision was tunnelling and swimming and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool.
Still feeling completely out of it, he was aware of something gripping his arm, instincts taking over as he swung at them.
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Clint was starting to panic. The fight was going on far too long and he wasn’t as focussed on it as perhaps he should’ve been. Nat had been rushed to base camp for medical treatment, and Clint didn’t even know what was wrong, just that she was hurt and they all had to stay out on the field.
But the fight was almost over, and then they could all go back home and sleep. Clint couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to sleep for more than 3 hours now. He had been trained to fight on little to no sleep, but after 5 days of barely any sleep he knew his punches were getting sloppier.
Sighing, he glanced around to try and find some high ground. The enemies' army was wearing thin now, and he was probably good to pick them off from a distance now. Notching a grappling hook arrow, he pulled himself up to the roof of a barn in the middle of the field, and got into position, beginning to shoot at the alien things that had broken off from the main fight.
Then his comm crackled to life for the first time in what was probably hours after they had fallen silent in concentration and exhaustion.
“G-guys? I don’t…I think I need help.”
That was Steve, but he didn’t sound good. His voice was shaky and raw, like he hadn’t spoken in years, and Clint had only heard Steve sound so young once before in that fight in Hawaii. Trying not to freak out too much he tried to spot Steve on the field, but he couldn’t find him.
“Cap?” Tony was clearly trying for nonchalance, but was failing miserably, unable to hide the concern in his voice. The comms were silent for a solid minute, and Clint felt his alarm rise with every second that passed.
“What?” Steve finally answered, sounding just as confused as they felt.
Tony let out a rush of relieved air, before asking “Are you…okay? You sound kind of, I don’t know, spacey?”
They were, again, met with radio silence, and Rhodey attempted to prompt Steve to speak again to no avail.
“Damn it, has anyone got eyes on Cap?” Rhodey shouted, and Clint scanned the field another time, eyes coming to rest on a figure off to the right, standing still and staring into the distance, swaying slightly.
“I see him! I got him!” Clint yelled as he climbed down off the roof and sprinted towards him. He was somewhat aware of Rhodey and Tony shouting in his ear to see what was going on, but he ignored them.
“Cap? Hey, Steve, did you get hit? Are you ok?” Clint asked gently, reaching out and touching his forearm. Immediately, Steve’s arm shot out and punched him square in the face. He yelped in shock, staggering back and dropping Steve’s arm, bringing his hand up to his nose. The punch was far weaker than it should have been, bearing in mind his super strength, but it was strong enough to sting, and make Clint’s eyes water.
“Steve?”
Steve stared blankly at him, not quite registering what he said. Then, his brow furrowed and he croaked out “Clint?”
“Steve,” Clint laughed a little in relief, “Are you feeling ok?”
A second passed, and then Steve’s eyes seemed to clear a bit, as the dizziness lessened somewhat.
“Huh? Clint? What’s going on?”
“Oh thank God,” Clint grinned, “Thought you were gonna pass out or somethin’”
“I might.” Steve admitted, swaying on his feet.
“What’s going on, did you get hit in the head?”
“No, I’m just.” Steve paused, cheeks heating up a little, and Clint thought he might be embarrassed. “I’m really tired Clint.” His voice was tiny, and Clint was reminded again of how young Steve was.
“What? Did he say he was tired?” Tony asked through his comm. Clint ignored him.
“Dude, when was your last break?”
Steve blinked. “I didn’t get one?”
Clint frowned in confusion. “Oh, do you mean since Nat left? I know its been a while since then, but I mean when was your last break before Nat was pulled off the mission.”
“Yeah, I- I haven’t had a break.”
“Since when though?” Clint felt the dread in the pit of his stomach build, sensing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“…Since…the start?”
Clint was right, he definitely didn’t like the answer.
“Steve. That better be a joke.”
“I think I’m gonna pass out.” Steve muttered, knees buckling and his eyes rolling up into his head.
“Ah, shit.”
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They had been walking for about 15 minutes when Clint felt Steve shift in his arms. Glancing down, he smiled as Steve blinked his eyes open.
“What?” Steve mumbled against his chest, and Clint stopped walking, setting Steve down on the floor, leaning against the trunk of a tree.
“Hey sleepyhead.” He grinned.
“He’s awake?” Rhodey asked through the comm. Tony and Rhodey were finishing up with the- well, whatever they were fighting- while Clint was tasked with taking Steve back to base camp.
“Yeah, no he’s awake, he looks oka- hey, Steve, cut that out.” Steve was shifting, trying to sit up straighter, wincing as it pulled on his ribs. Clint wrapped one arm round his back, and held his right arm with the other, and sat him up a little straighter. Steve’s eyes cleared as he looked around, eyes settling on Clint.
“Where are we? How did- Oh god did you carry me?”
Clint laughed, watching as Steve’s cheeks turned red and he buried his face in his hands. “Well, it’s not like you could get up and walk, is it?”
Steve dropped his head back against the tree, shutting his eyes.
“Hey, no, Steve, you gotta keep your eyes open. C’mon, let me see those baby blues.” Clint poked him in the side. Steve cracked his eyes open, sending a half hearted glare at Clint, who simply smiled back. “We’re about 10 minutes from base camp. You think you can walk it?”
If Steve was being honest with himself? No. No he wasn’t convinced he could walk it, but his only other option was Clint carrying him. Which is why he found himself forcing himself to his feet. He gratefully accepted Clint’s arm around his back for support, and they started walking.
“Hey, where’d your comm go?” Clint asked, after a minute of silence,
“What? Isn’t it in my ear?” Steve’s face twisted in confusion.
Clint frowned too, before addressing Tony. “Hey, Tony, is Cap’s comm online?”
“Yeah, looks like it to me.” He answered a second later.
“Can you track it? We don’t have it anymore.”
“Uh, sure, I guess.” A beat later, Tony continued. “Looks like its in the middle if the field. I’ll grab it now, we’re just about done here so I can come and meet you guys.”
“Yeah, I’m just grabbing a few strays, then I’ll meet you at base.” Rhodey agreed.
“Clint?” Steve mumbled, voice tiny. “I think ‘m gonna pass out.” His words were slurred and unclear, and then he was slumping against Clint. At that moment, Tony landed next to them.
“Here,” he said, reaching out, “I’ll take him back, I’ll get there quicker.” Clint handed Steve over to Tony, glancing one last time at Steve's pale face, sending a quick prayer up to whatever God was listening, then watched as they disappeared into the distance, before jogging, hoping to get there and check on both Nat and Steve.