Captain On Ice

Chapter 7

"Steve."

"Bucky?" Steve choked as the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. The pain was unbearable, but he managed to keep it bottled inside of him until someone reached under his arms and lifted him up, carrying him onto a waiting stretcher. He had this crushing sensation in his very core that he was going to explode.

"It's Clint, Steve. We're gonna get you out of here, okay, buddy? Just... just hang on," Clint sounded concerned.

"Are you," Steve paused, gasping for air, "alright? The team?" Tasha? Steve's eyes asked.

Clint flashed Steve a pitiful grin. "Yeah, we're, uh, we're good." He gave Steve a reassuring nod, answering the unspoken question that Clint could derive from Steve's piercing eyes. Clint glanced over to Tony, who was desperately trying to get out of his suit, and let out something between a scoff and a laugh at the fact that the man who was just stabbed in the chest and was currently bleeding out on a stretcher had asked about the wellbeing of his team.

Suddenly, he felt a presence next to him, and the faint aroma of flowers disrupted Steve's thoughts on the knives that were pummeling every inch of his body. It was the same scent from when he and Bucky would somehow always find themselves passing through the park on the way back to the orphanage after school had been let out, even if it was an extra mile walk. Arriving significantly later than the rest of the orphans, they were scolded each and every time, but to them, those extra minutes of freedom were worth it. It was as though all the pain and suffering in the world just fell away, and it was just Steve, his best friend, and nature. Remembering the fresh air and the wheezing he made each time he picked up his pace, Steve abruptly became exhausted, and it took all of his effort to keep his eyelids - which seemed to weigh more than steel - open.

"Steven. Rogers!" his eyes snapped open, frantically searching for the source of the voice. He found himself being stared down by the one and only Natasha Romanov, and if he hadn't known better, he would have thought that she was there to end him just by the look on her face. "Don't you dare leave us," she hissed. The venom in her voice was so thick, so potent, that Steve would give everything just to never hear it again. It may not have been the Widow's Bite, but it hurt him more inside than any physical injury the woman could cause him.

"Just hang on, okay?" she was softer this time. "We're going get you to a hospital, and you're going to be fine."

Steve attempted a smile, his lips curling upward but not meeting his eyes. He knew that she was lying, trying to keep him with her instead of slipping away to a peaceful, honorable death, but he wasn't going to deny himself the rare opportunity to be comforted by the Avenger that practically seemed like stone to the rest of the team - and the public. Before she could get another word in, Bruce grabbed her arm, spinning her toward him. When did they get outside?

"Natasha, we have a situation," he panicked, wringing his hands on the rag he had been given to wipe Steve's blood away. The thick, maroon liquid was gone, but there were stains reaching up to the doctor's elbows. Natasha simply stared at him until he continued. "Right, well, the spear was hooked."

"Yeah, so?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Well, Clint..." Bruce motioned to the archer, who was currently holding one of the assailants up against a wall with such force that Natasha was surprised he hadn't been crushed. At the sound of his name being called, Clint turned to the duo and, while holding the man to the wall with one hand, he used to other to display the weapon that had just been yanked from Steve's chest just minutes prior.

Natasha stood in silent confusion, staring at the sleek aluminum blade attached to a dull black body - wait,thought Natasha, sleek? The realization struck Natasha with such ferocious intensity that she began to stammer. "Wh-where are the hooks?"