Shot
Clint is waiting outside when Steve finishes his shift. Tony gives Clint a nod and a shrug as if to say all was quiet and Clint nods in understanding. They don’t walk next to each other as they follow Steve back to his tiny apartment. For the next three days they fall into a steady routine of following Steve to work and then back home. It seems Steve has as much as a social life now as he does back in their time. Occasionally Bucky stops into the store, but neither seem inclined to go out at night. Clint wonders if they really enjoy quiet evenings or if it’s a lack of funds keeping them inside.
There hasn’t been any sign of the assassin although whoever isn’t on Steve duty at any given time is looking for leads. So far they’ve come up empty.
It’s the weekend now and Steve’s first day off. Tony has to admit he’s a little excited to see how Steve spends it; smoking on the corner with other boys his age, getting drunk, sleeping in past 9 AM, something Tony had ever seen Cap do after really exhausting late night missions.
“We’re in a library,” Tony says sourly over the comms to Clint and Natasha.
“Well, what did you expect? It’s Cap.” Natasha asks. He can hear her trying to keep the amusement out of her voice at his disappointment.
“I expected him not to be completely boring on his day off,” Tony says.
“He can’t help it. Being wholesomely boring is part of his charm.” Clint says.
“Bucky invited him to go drinking with him and some of his work buddies and he said no. I almost got the pleasure of witnessing Cap drunk –a rare sight that has been lost to history— and he said no. Because he wanted to get some reading done. Because he’s boring.” Tony complains.
“We’ll figure out a way to get Steve drunk,” Clint promises. Tony is only slightly mollified. He watches Steve check out The Hobbit and makes a mental note to show Steve the movie when all this is over.
Steve makes polite conversation to the little old lady at the front desk. Tony pretends to gag over the comms because it’s such a Steve thing to do. Tony can’t help but to notice the way Steve shivers as he steps outside. It’s a chilly October day and Steve doesn’t even have a jacket. Tony feels a strong urge to scold him, if it wouldn’t blow his cover. When Steve had first left the apartment that morning Natasha’s lips had been pressed in a thin line, as if she was physically restraining herself from shouting down at him to put a jacket on. Clint and Tony had laughed at her, but now Tony really wished she had yelled at him.
“Steve Rogers?” A voice says. A man steps out of one of the many little mom & pop stores that line the street.
Shit. Steve turns towards the voice curiously.
“Found the assassin” Tony pants over the comms as he races from his hiding spot half a block away.
“Hail Hydra.” He raises a gun and fires. Tony watches Steve fall and his heart stops beating. The assassin runs off but Tony doesn’t pay attention.
“Cap’s down. I repeat Cap’s down.” Tony says as he stumbles to Steve’s side. He’s bleeding. Tony has seen Steve bleed before. He’s also seen Steve shot before. It’s never pleasant watching him catch a bullet with his body, but this was far more panic inducing. He’s so small now and he doesn’t have much blood to waste painting the sidewalk.
“Steve!” Tony presses on the wound. Steve’s eyes are squeezed shut and he’s gasping for air. Tony prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that Steve doesn’t give himself an asthma attack.
“Hold on Steve. It’s gonna be ok.” Tony assures Steve. He doubts Steve is listening. He takes the pressure off the wound long enough to peel back Steve’s shirt. He nearly sobs in relief at what he sees.
Steve will be mildly disappointed to know that his steller reputation at the library is about to be ruined when he sees the condition of the book, but the hard cover book he had been holding against his chest when the shot was fired was just enough to deflect the bullet, to just below his ribs. It is still a serious shot, but not nearly as bad as it could have been.
Heart stopping terror fading into a more comfortable heart pounding terror, Tony realizes that both Natasha and Clint are screaming into the comms.
“He’s alive,” Tony says, “aren’t you buddy?” Tony applies more pressure on the wound. By the time Natasha and Clint arrive the bleeding is beginning to stop.
Neither Natasha nor Clint is a stranger to patching bullet wounds in the field. They’ve patched up teammates, civilians, and even themselves on occasion. Still, Clint still nearly throws up when he sees Steve lying there, covered in his own blood. Natasha’s professional blank mask is firmly in place, but her hands shake slightly as she takes over for Tony. Tony moves to Steve’s head, never stopping a quiet litany of encouragement. Steve doesn’t acknowledge any of them, too focused on breathing without screaming.
They have him stitched and bandaged in record time. Steve’s not unconscious, but he’s definitely not fully present at the moment. It sends a fresh wave of nausea through Clint to think about, because any other day Steve would have shrugged off that shot as a flesh wound.
“What do we do now?” Tony asks.
“We can’t take him to a hospital. We won’t be able to keep an eye on him.” Natasha says.
“We could bring him back to his apartment.” Clint suggests.
“No, Bucky will ask questions and if he finds out Steve’s been shot he might get the police involved, or make Steve go to the hospital, or both.” Tony says.
“Then we take him back to our place where we can keep an eye on him.” Natasha decides.
“So we kidnap him.” Clint says.
“It’s not kidnapping, if it’s to save his life,” Natasha snaps, the stress of seeing Steve bloody and vulnerable getting to her.
“I don’t think that’s how kidnapping laws work, but I agree that he’s safest with us. Right now the bastard probably thinks he’s killed Steve, but if he realizes he messed up, he’ll be back.” Tony says.
With that disquieting thought Clint picks up Steve as if he were a child. It’s almost painful how little he weighs.
“Put me down,” Steve squirms, blinking through his haze of pain and blood loss. Clint holds him a bit tighter, “It’s ok. We’re taking you someplace safer.”
It’s clear that Steve wants to fight, or at least argue, but his body can barely handle the punches it takes on a regular bases, the bullet wound is far too much for it to handle. He passes out before they make it all the way down the street.
~*~*~*~
The 21st Century
"Steve!"
“Captain!”
Steve jerks back into consciousness from where he had been zoning out, "what happened?"
"You just...flickered. What the hell happened?" Bruce asks.
"I got shot" Steve says as memories assault his mind. The phantom pain of a bullet wound twinges and Steve lifts his shirt to look at unblemished skin. Of course it is unblemished, the serum had taken care of any scars he’s ever had, but now that he thinks about it there had been a scar there right up until the day he was injected. Though if he thinks about it a little harder he also has a set of memories that says there had never been a scar there. It is all very confusing.
"You almost died and erased yourself from history" Bruce says accusingly.
"Not my fault. The others were supposed to prevent this" Steve says, shifting a bit guiltily under Bruce and Thor’s reproving stares as if actually had something to feel guilty about.
"Let's hope it doesn't happen again" Bruce says. He turns back to the machines, but Steve can see the way he keeps sneaking glances at him, as if he's afraid Steve will flicker again. Steve grips the table tightly, hoping that it will somehow anchor him to the here and now.
“I wish I could have gone back as well Captain. I would slay that man where he stood,” Thor says hotly.
“I know you would, but we need you here,” Steve says with a slight smile. Thor doesn’t look mollified. The air crackles with energy at his displeasure.
“Hey, if you’re going to do that, take it outside. We can’t risk damaging the equipment,” Bruce says. Thor looks ready to storm off, but he hesitates, not wanting to leave Steve to suffer and worry alone.
“Go on, blow off some steam. I promise I’ll be here when you get back.” Steve says. They both know that it’s a promise he can’t really guarantee, but he says it with all the confidence of a true leader and Thor can feel himself calming. Steve has that way about him, Thor has noticed. A way of making everything seem like it’s going to be alright, even during the darkest of hours. His father has a similar ability, and Thor hopes that someday he will have that ability too. It’s the mark of a great leader.
Steve watches him go, then for lack of anything better to do, and because he can't stand just sitting around he casts his mind back to 1939, trying to remember every detail that he can for something helpful. Nothing it’s all a blur of jumbled memories that haven’t been clearly formed yet.