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The blaring evacuation alert is the only thing keeping Stephen conscious. The others are gone, escaped with the civilians beyond the expected blast radius. Stephen himself had screamed for them to go, had begged for them to leave before his strength gave out, but selfishly, he wishes he weren’t alone at the end.
The containment spell has already started failing, his reserves depleted. If one of the others had stayed, the seconds that remain before the spell breaks down completely might have been enough to carry Stephen beyond the blast. Or maybe not. Either way, he’s not making it on his own, not with the taste of blood in his mouth and at least one broken leg.
Stephen doesn’t close his eyes. He keeps them open, staring up at the blue, blue sky.
And that’s how he sees it.
A tiny speck that rapidly grows into a familiar red and gold form. What is Iron Man doing here? If he meant to be sure of Stephen’s death, he hardly needed to put himself in danger to do it.
The suit lands with a force that shakes the ground beneath Stephen. He scoops Stephen into his arms and blasts off almost in a single motion. A sort of shield sprouts from the armor, protecting Stephen from the worst of the wind from their ascent, but he can’t hold back the cry of pain as his injuries are jarred.
“Sorry,” Iron Man’s synthesized voice is boosted over the rush of air. “Speed is our priority.”
Even if he had the breath to argue, Stephen couldn’t: the containment spell has already failed, and they’re racing the blast now.
Iron Man finally slows to a hover. “Why?” Stephen rasps weakly. It’s all he can manage, but he’s sure he gets the question across: Why did Iron Man save someone who has stood against him time and time again? Why risk this much time this close to someone who could reveal his identity, if only Stephen had a scrap of magic reserves left?
“Because I like you, doc,” Iron Man says.
Stephen’s not sure what to say to that. People don’t like him. They respect him, but they don’t like him. He diverts to a more immediate concern. “I’m dying.” If he hadn’t had a punctured lung before their ascent—which he likely had—then he definitely has one now.
“Don’t worry,” Iron Man says, setting into motion again. Away, Stephen notes, from both the Avengers and the hospital. “I’m going to take good care of you.”
Stephen’s not sure what should alarm him more: the words themselves, or the burning curiosity that blooms when he realizes Iron Man means to bring him to the base that no one has seen.
He’s almost glad he doesn’t have the magic to resist.