Chapter Text
“You know the drill, Mr Stark.”
“Hmm?”
Tony blinked blearily away from the bright overhead lights. The after image was still hovering in his sight as he turned to Dana, blotting out the middle of her face. When did she put on scrubs? Wasn't he the one wearing scrubs? Tony was confused. And sleepy. But he tried to focus on Dana, looking steadily down at him amidst the busy hub of activity he saw in the periphery, more people in scrubs, things being moved about.
Dana tapped a finger slowly on the back of his right hand, tap, tap, tap. “Count backwards for me from ten, nice and slow.”
“Count…”
“That’s right,” her voice was still clear, but Tony thought her face was becoming more hazy. “Ten…”
“Nine…” Tony mumbled. “Eight… sev… seven…”
“Good, Mr Stark, keep going.”
“Six…”
Michael sat hunched in a seat, fingers steepled together and pressed hard between against his brow, breathing in deep through his nose and an out through his lips. A hand dropped heavy on his shoulders. He didn't have to look up to know who it was.
The hand slid until a whole arm was draped across his shoulders, and Michael felt a chin dig into his shoulder. “I'm sorry—”
“No, Sharon, you did so well,” Michael hushed her, turning to pull her into a hug. Her injuries had been treated, nothing more than some butterfly bandages on a few cuts on her face, and some pain meds, before she’d been let out from the nurses’ clutches. Or more accurately, let herself out from their clutches. She’d even had a shower, at Hal’s insistence, wearing clothes not covered in blood.
Michael had dropped into this chair when they’d wheeled Tony and Ken into surgery and not left it since. He hadn't done more than strip off his tac vest.
There was still blood on his hands, Ken’s and Tony’s, flaking off in dark specks.
He didn't want to dirty Sharon’s clean clothes, but she only curled closer, and Michael had never been one to reject someone needing a hug. He needed the hug just as much too. “I'm so proud of you. You did so well.”
Sharon shook her head, but didn't say any more, hiding her face away. Michael rubbed his cheek on her head and looked across the corridor almost in a daze.
Hal was on the phone, to Evie from the sounds of it, alternately updating her and seeking his own reassurance, his blond hair mussed and bags under his eyes. Trip was slumped tiredly next to him, eyes closed, the shield still on his knees from when Sharon had left it for her medical check up. They were in clean clothes too, feet in some hotel-like slippers.
Maybe Michael should go change.
“Where’s Carol?”
Trip chuckled, not moving, eyes still closed. “Standing guard.”
Michael was confused, he must have missed something since sitting down in a daze. Hal jerked his head to one side. At the end of the corridor, through the glass windows in the door, Michael could make out the back of Carol’s blonde head. He imagined on the other side were the rest of the Avengers - were they still Avengers if they’d left? - wanting to get through for news about Tony.
“She need help?”
“Doubt it.”
Yeah, Michael had heard about Carol himself in the USAF, as well as whatever Tony had told him over the years - Tony always vague on details about how the two met - but he’d never had the chance to meet her personally before today. He couldn't have imagined a better stand-in for Rhodes in the mission though, she’d worked seamlessly with the whole team.
Sharon sighed, “No news?”
“Nothing new.”
The door at the end of the corridor swung open, and Michael tensed automatically, but looked up to find it was the King of Wakanda himself, and a pair of his bodyguards. Michael forced himself to his feet with the others, nodding respectfully.
“Your Majesty, we can’t thank you enough—”
T'Challa shook his head, “You are, of course, very welcome. But please, Mr Stark and Mr Dugan will be in surgery for some time yet. We have rooms available for you to use.”
“Oh, no,” Michael immediately shook his head. “I couldn't leave- leave them…”
But Hal was nodding. “Yes, thank you. Michael, you need to clean up, especially if you want to see the boys when they wake up. And Sharon needs to sleep.”
“Daddy—”
“You need to rest at least,” Hal said, shooting her a serious look. “We’ve all been through a lot in a short time. Us being here won’t change whatever happens in surgery. We have to trust they’re in good hands, and I do trust that.”
Sharon pouted, but didn't resist when Hal tugged her by the arm and they followed one of the bodyguards to the rooms T'Challa had offered them, the opposite way down the corridor from Carol. Trip hefted the shield in his arms and smiled sadly at Michael, following the other two.
Michael was left staring at his hands, willing his feet to move.
Forward or back, just to move, but he couldn’t seem to decide where to go. His head told him forward, go shower, clean up, rest, eat something, wait with the others for news. His heart told him to back, sit, don't leave Tony and Ken, stay for them. And Michael was just so tired.
A hand gently took him by the arm, mindful of the blood on his hands.
“Come,” T'Challa said softly, guiding Michael forward after the others. “Rest. I will send someone if anything changes.”
Somehow, Michael managed to stagger forward with the King’s help.
Carol wasn't arrogant enough to think it was just down to her presence keeping the team of Avengers from barrelling past the doors at her back. She had no doubts the Dora Milaje standing beside her helped with that more than she did. They seemed much more alert and threatening than Carol right now, but she had them beat on pure will, because it wasn't just a guest she was protecting - Carol was protecting a friend.
Several new friends too, but Tony wasn't a new friend. And protecting him here also protected James across the sea. So, even though her hand was cramping from the grip on her gun, she didn't let go. Even though her back ached from standing at attention for so long, she didn't move. Even though the sweat and blood she hadn't managed to wipe off on the Nautilus were making her skin itch, she didn't so much as twitch.
No, Carol stood there, as she looked at the faces of the Avengers before her who still didn't seem to understand that she was not going to move.
Rogers heaved a deep sigh in front of her.
His nose had been straightened once again, but there were dark smudges around his bridge and eyes left from the broken nose. He kept tilting his head either side, pointedly trying to see around Carol’s head, but she’d placed herself carefully. Her body was blocking the view of most of the glass panes of the doors at her back. Even a Super Soldier wasn't going to be able to see much.
Not much more than a worrying family waiting for news on their loved ones anyway.
That was why it was Carol out here. Of all of them, she was still the least heavily invested in the group behind and in front. Not entirely objective, couldn't be, not involving Tony, but less likely to blow up in the Avengers’ faces at quite the speed Sharon had already started to show. Less likely.
They were testing her patience though.
“Ma’am—”
“It’s Colonel.”
Rogers blinked at her, “What?”
“You may address me as Colonel, or Danvers,” Carol said evenly. “Your choice, Captain.”
The man was not much taller than her, but she felt somehow he was managing to seem a much smaller man with his hunched shoulders. “Yes, I’m sorry. Colonel, would you mind just…”
“Just what?”
“If you could just…” Rogers scratched the back of his neck. Carol had never imagined Captain America being this awkward around her. She wondered if it was because of who’s group she was with. “Just let me past—”
“And I have told you and your group already, I'm not moving.”
He frowned, brows dropping and a muscle jumping in his jaw. Rogers opened his mouth again, to argue some more she imagined, but Carol cut him off.
“Why do you want to get past?” She didn't give him time to answer. “What difference do you think it will make, you being any closer?”
“None, but—”
“Has it even crossed your mind what harm you being closer might do?”
Rogers seemed shocked by the idea. He was either very naive, or suffering tunnel-vision. “Harm?”
“No one behind me is very happy with you right now,” Carol said. “James kept us well informed on what had happened between you and Tony as we were en route to the Raft. You could be looking at that nose breaking again or worse. And even if they weren't angry, you don't have the right to demand information on Tony’s condition from them. They have more than just him to worry about this minute than placating you. It’s not just Tony in surgery.”
“I don't want to- I- he’s my friend—”
“Tony's my friend too, and he doesn't want to see you,” Carol flexed her hand at her hip. “I will not move. Stop asking, the answer isn't going to change.”
Rogers’ nostrils flared and his broad chest puffed up, but Barnes pulled him away, pushing him down to sit on a chair like the rest of them.
They were all sat in the official waiting area for the Palace’s personal medical wing, all except for Agent Romanov and Barton, who’d stopped by briefly before King T'Challa had called them away to talk. Well, he’d called Romanov away, and Barton had tagged along with her. The King had returned since, and Carol had let him past.
The spy and the archer had not reappeared.
There was a noticeable space of several missing chairs at the end of the group. Those chairs that Carol had watched Hal and Michael carry through the doors earlier. It would be nice to sit down, but she wouldn't give that show of weakness. Carol would have to move to get a chair, and she didn't doubt Rogers would take the chance to try for the doors if she did.
Stupid swinging door didn't even let Carol lean back, otherwise she’d fall on her ass.
“So…” it was the Falcon - Wilson - speaking this time.
He had remained seated, not threatening Carol about pushing past, but she eyed him warily. James had told her that Wilson was one of the first to side with Rogers, one of the newest members of the Avengers. He hadn't labelled the man as one of Tony’s friends, but then again, James hadn't classed any of them by very complimentary terms. He was adorably protective like that, with that cute little frown of his, it had made Carol smile to listen.
“You’re friends with Stark - how long have you known him?”
Carol wasn't sure if it was a ploy or genuine curiosity, but Wilson’s expression was open enough to answer him. “Almost twenty years.”
His eyebrows lifted, and Wilson nodded. “You met through work?”
It was a good guess, but— “Not exactly.”
The view from the suite was beautiful.
Trip could easily imagine Ken swinging through the trees outside, like the crazy monkey he was, pretending to be Tarzan or something as he threw himself through the air with that insane grin on his face as he fell through the air, depending on nothing but his own body and skills to be able to catch him. It pulled a bittersweet smile to Trip’s face.
He leaned his head against the cool window, nose nearly pressed to the glass. Tony would love it here too, but not for what was outside, but what was inside. Trip hadn't seen much of the country, but everyone knew that Wakanda was a technological pioneer and powerhouse. He could easily imagine Tony’s impressed and envious expression, the exact pout that would pull on Tony’s mouth, and the gleam in Tony’s eyes…
Behind him, Trip could hear Sharon pacing as she quietly talked on the phone to her Mom, voice rising and falling as she moved about the room. Hal had been sitting on the sofa in the living room of the suite when Trip had joined them, and he was still there, picking listlessly at several magazines and newspapers that had been left provided. The Captain America shield leaned against the end of the sofa, ignored by everyone, still stained with blood.
Michael had disappeared into one of the bedrooms when he’d arrived and not reappeared since. Trip heard the shower turn on at some point, but that had stopped a while ago too.
He was obviously very worried, but it wasn't just worry, and Michael wasn't the only one.
“Has anyone—” Trip cleared his throat, turning his head a little, but not pulling away from the cool glass. “Has anyone told the others?”
He could just make out Hal shaking his head, “No, I don't think so. Other than Evie, but she would've killed me if I hadn’t… Rhodes was gonna tell Pepper, I think, since he was with us the whole time and she’ll want details. We should let the others know though.”
“They aren’t out of surgery.”
“But we succeeded in the rescue, and they're alive,” Hal shot a brief smile over his shoulder as Sharon walked past. “And Tony and Ken will be fine.”
Trip nodded, spine strengthening under Hal’s firm tone. He stepped back from the window and joined Hal on the sofa, bumping shoulders. “Okay, you pick then.”
Hal raised an eyebrow, “Pick?”
“You wanna go pull Michael outta his funk?” A small smirk pulled at Trip’s lips. “Or tell Bree that her little brother is in surgery?”
Hal’s shoulders slumped, but he pulled out his phone and started thumbing through the contacts. “Maybe Bree’s busy and Ellie will pick up?”
“Fat chance!” Trip crowed. “Both the girls will’ve been sitting around the phone this whole time, I bet anything on that.”
“Probably,” Hal nodded. “You’re better than me at cheering people up. You could make anyone smile.”
Trip grinned, slapping his knees as he stood up again, “We all have our superpowers.”
He watched Hal lift the smartphone to his ear, and wince at the volume of the voices that answered his call. “Hi- Bree, let me just- I was about to- can I- let me—”
“Hal, you put this on video chat right now, let me see your face.”
“Okay, just gimme a—”
“Video. Now.”
Trip turned away as Hal pulled the phone from his ear and held it in front of him. Bree and Eliza were gonna take one look at the man and know there wasn't all good news. But at least Sharon was still around, she might get them to calm down a little, if she finished talking to her Mom. The long wait for this call probably hadn't helped with their nerves.
Facing the closed bedroom door, Trip pulled back his shoulders and braced himself for wherever Michael’s head had taken him now.
“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”
Carol shrugged, still keeping an eye on Rogers while Wilson tried to strike up conversation.
Call her paranoid, but she wasn't taking the chance that this was a distraction. She didn't know these people, and right now she didn't trust them. The Maximoff girl flinched at nothing as she tucked herself closer to Lang. Carol felt a surge of pity for the girl, apparently out of her depth, but she wasn't a child, and these people needed to face the real consequences of their actions eventually.
James had told her that Maximoff had been quite coddled in the compound, he didn't even think anyone had told her about all the destruction that had been the final count after Ultron. She’d been mourning her dead brother, and the others couldn't find it in themselves to pile on more blame, and Tony had apparently gobbled up the guilt all by himself, since it was just lying around. As usual. It hadn't seemed like anyone had tried to stop him on the team either. The team he left anyway. James seemed to regret letting Tony go like that, but there was nothing to do about that, it was the past now.
“Tony and I have never worked together, officially,” Carol said. “James was the military liaison with Stark Industries. I knew James through work colleagues, and he introduced us for personal reasons, so, Tony and I didn't exactly meet through work.”
“He made a good impression then,” Wilson offered with a small smile.
Carol snorted. “Tony? Made an absolutely terrible, ridiculous first impression.” She turned her eyes down, away from their prying looks, smiling softly at her feet. “He grows on you.”
“And Rhodes?” Wilson pressed. “He’s still…”
“Still… what?” Carol raised a pointed eyebrow at him, “He’s carrying on. Vision was wheeling him off for a physio session last time he contacted us, to work off some of the stress now that we have Tony and Sharon back.”
Wilson’s face fell, “Right, sure.”
Carol looked at the man carefully, the taut way he held himself, the tension in his jaw at the mention of James, the strange look as he scrubbed at his face. “… Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Wilson said, shaking himself and pasting on a half-smile. “No official work together, you said. You and Stark. What about unofficially?”
“I'm sure you know where I work. James said he sent Agent Romanov the team specs,” Carol checked, and Wilson nodded. “After 2012, after New York, Tony was understandably concerned with our space defence capabilities, against another alien attack. He asked me to put him in contact with some people in the field, had some ideas to help with that.”
He seemed surprised, “He’s been worried about that for that long?”
“It didn't help that no one else seemed to be concerned about it, and then there were a lot of Earth-based disasters that took everyone’s attention, like the Hydra revival.” Carol shrugged, “It’s been slow going, global defence like he’s been proposing is still so new.”
Wilson shook his head, “And that on top of SI and the Avengers… How does Stark find the time to do all of that?”
“He barely sleeps,” Romanov said, coolly sliding back into the room, Barton a pale silent shadow at her heels. “There’s no other way even Tony could meet all his demands otherwise. He sleeps when he passes out.”
“Natasha,” Rogers' head lifted. “Where did you go?”
Romanov shared a look with Barton over her shoulder, before looking back at the Captain. “I was sending some intel to a contact of mine. They should be able to start looking for Skull while we wait on Stark.”
“A contact.”
Rogers hadn't phrased it like a question, apparently expecting Romanov to fill in the blanks. He looked to be gearing up either to give a lecture or take the reins on whatever Romanov was planning. Carol nearly smiled at the dangerous flash in Romanov’s eyes as she faced Rogers.
“Yes, Steve, a contact,” Romanov bit out. Barton shuffled on his feet behind her, avoiding the eyes of the others. “I’ve lost most of them, since the fall out, but I'm not entirely isolated.”
“And you can trust them? Do they know where we are? Natasha, how did you explain knowing about Skull or anything!”
“Well I didn't punch them,” Romanov snapped. Her face had shuttered closed as she looked down at Rogers in his chair, Wilson and Barnes bracketing him on either side. Blank and cold and restrained. “I used my words. And with some people it’s still enough, knowing it’s me doing the asking.”
Her chin lifted, and Romanov’s hands curled at her hips.
“You better not be questioning my trust, Steve. You won’t like it.”
“I wasn’t—”
“And I think I've already done more than enough to prove my loyalty to the team.”
Rogers deflated, dropping his head into his hands. “I know. I didn't mean…”
Agent Romanov looked him over carefully a while longer, but said nothing else. Eventually, she reached back and caught Barton by the wrist, leading him to a free chair and sitting him down. She gave him a smack to the head that was more loud than painful, and Barton managed a small smile, though Carol thought he still looked in shock or something. She wondered who their contact had been for a reaction like that.
Then Romanov straightened up.
Carol locked eyes with sharp green ones, watching the redhead stop in front of her. “Can I help you with something, Agent Romanov?”
Romanov tipped her chin down slightly. She was shorter, smaller, softer looking than Carol’s lean body, but Carol knew how dangerous Romanov could be. “I'd like to see Stark.”
Michael lay curled up on the bed in the clean clothes T’Challa’s people had provided, but he wasn't asleep, he hadn't even closed his eyes, just stared fixedly out of the window in the dark room. He hadn't turned the lights on. Trip looked at his bare feet, and the whole picture felt very different from the Michael that was usually presented to everyone.
Trip called his name, but got no response, and padded closer to the bed.
The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge, reaching out a hesitant hand to Michael’s shoulder, even though the other man hadn't shown any signs of realising he had company.
“Michael,” Trip tried again, speaking softly in the quiet of the room. “Man, you with me?”
“M’fine,” Michael said, voice rough. “Just tired.”
“No way, if none of the rest of us can pull that shit, you can’t either,” Trip said, giving him a little shake with the hand on Michael’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you aren’t, but don't lie to me about it. It’s me - it’s us.”
Trip watched Michael shut his eyes, a tear squeezing out, and squeezing Trip’s heart in the process. He shuffled closer and held tighter to Michael’s shoulder.
“Wanna tell me about it?”
“… Almost lost them.”
“We didn’t,” Trip said. “Ken caught Tony, and you caught Ken. And Sharon was her badass self, and we got them all out. Everyone’s here. We’re safe.”
“But we almost—”
“No,” Trip stopped him. He leaned closer and used the end of his sleeve to wipe dry the corners of Michael’s eyes. “You don’t need to do that. No ‘what if’s.”
“I just lost Mom.”
Trip felt cold at the reminder. He wondered if Michael had listened properly to Rhodes’ sit rep on the Nautilus, about the circumstances around Peggy’s… he hadn't reacted much at the time, Trip remembered, but Michael had been so focused on getting Tony and Sharon out, it made sense that he’d pushed it to one side until after the rescue. Trip couldn't imagine how Michael was feeling.
Not that he hadn't lost a parent.
He’d lost his Dad before he ever learned he was missing one, all that was left behind was a name and the memories his Ma shared. But Trip hadn't really felt it as a loss. More like he was missing out on something, if anything, but never for very long. There was always someone around to fill in that gap in one way or another. Trip didn't have a Dad, but his family more than made up for that.
He never missed out on a Dad cheering for him at graduation, because there’d always been a crowd of people cheering just for him, even if some of them covered up behind sunglasses and ballcaps. He’d never missed out on a Dad when he wanted a guy’s dating advice, he’d actually had too much advice, from just about every guy he knew. He’d never missed out on a Dad coaching his Little League, or sharing his first beer, or any other special moment, because his Ma had been there for every step and loved him so much Trip had never missed anything.
If he’d lost his Ma…
And it was still so raw. They’d only put Peggy to rest a few days ago. This whole everything had happened so quickly. Michael had lost so many of his family already, to hear that it was Tony and Sharon had been taken on the tail end of the funeral, and by Red Skull…
Trip curled over Michael in a hug, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight.
“We got ‘em,” Trip said, voice firm, but throat tight from tears when he thought of his Aunt Peggy, gone to join Uncle Danny and their Mary, and his own Dad and Pop-Pop now.
“Nearly didn’t.”
“But we did.”
Michael shook with a sob, and Trip wanted to wrap him up entirely but Michael had always been bigger, a great big brother to everyone, solid as a mountain. So Trip just held on as much as he could.
“You’ll see, Tony will be riling up the nurses as soon as he’s awake, itching to leave even straight after surgery, and Ken’ll be cheering along as always, the maniac,” Trip said, smiling a little at the image. “And we’ll be here to catch Tony when he keels over because he’s more tired than he’ll ever admit, and we’ll be here to tell Ken to shut up and rest too, and we’ll be here all of us together. We’ll be okay.”
Trip felt Michael nod, jerkily and with a big wet sniff, but he also wrapped Trip in his arms for a proper hug and that was better. “I miss my Mom.”
“I miss her too.”
Sharon tossed the phone nervously between her hands. She’d finished talking to her Mom, at least as much as she could, until she had a little more privacy and a much clearer head. Just her voice had been soothing though. Her Dad was sat beside her, leaning against Sharon shoulder to knee, blond hair tangling with hers as she tucked her head against his jaw.
Trip had emerged a little while ago, towing Michael behind him, both with red eyes. He’d led them to the windows, and they were still sat there staring out at the scenery, Trip pointing at things now and then, voices a soft murmur. The sun was making the sky bleed purple and pink streaks. The way they sat together against the backdrop made them look both younger and older.
It was quiet.
Sharon hated this sort of waiting.
It came to mind to press her Dad about what he and Mom did, what with him promising to reveal all at last now. But not everyone was here, and Sharon didn't think her head was in the right frame to take in any new surprises now. Not with all her nerves about Tony and Ken’s surgeries. The tension in the room wasn't suffocating, but it was thick in the air, a heavy presence weighing down on them all.
Too tired to even sleep, Sharon stayed in a sort of half-doze against her Dad, looking now and then to the little phone screen he’d propped up on the coffee table, screen rolling with all sorts of updates via FRIDAY while she waited with them.
Waiting.
The door to the suite opened, and Sharon hadn't even realised she’d leapt to her feet before she was already standing. She wasn't the only one.
Carol stepped through the door with a sigh, tilting her head over each shoulder with a loud crack and shaking out her hands. She stopped and blinked at all the attention turned on her. “What?”
“Weren’t you guarding the corridor?” Hal asked.
“Agent Romanov offered to fill in for me while I took a break,” Carol said, stretching her arms over her head, before unbuckling her holster belt and stripping off her tac vest. “I doubt any of that lot will get by her. Or the Dora Milaje still there. She wanted to see Tony after, so I agreed.”
Hal nodded, “Rogers and his friends still trying to get past you?”
Carol nodded, yawning as she took a seat at the small kitchenette. Michael took the chance to fuss over someone, Sharon supposed, and started rifling through the cupboards and fridge for something filling for them to eat. In the mean time, Carol helped herself to some of the fruit on the counter. They all migrated to the kitchenette.
“Tell me there’s coffee.”
Trip bustled past Carol and started the coffee machine. No one was going to sleep likely, they were all gonna need it. Hal pulled out mugs and plates, helping Michael dish out several well-filled sandwiches that had been provided for them. Sharon snatched up a small sandwich, nibbling it half-heartedly, not really hungry.
The company around the counter was doing more to settle her stomach than anything.
Carol and Trip started stuffing their faces though, while Michael took over pouring the coffee. With a warm mug in her hand, Sharon looked around the counter at the faces around her and felt a little stronger for the fondness that shot through her as she watched them. The little shoulder taps her Dad kept nudging on Michael until he chuffed with a half-smile. The smear of mayonnaise on the corner of Trip’s mouth. Carol’s happy sigh with her first sip of coffee.
They were still waiting, but at least Sharon wasn't waiting alone.
“Mr Stark?”
“Mmmm…”
“You remember who I am?”
“… Dr Dana…”
“That’s right.” Tony tried to smile back at the happy face above his, but his face felt strangely heavy. “Don’t worry if you feel a little woozy, you're coming off the anaesthetic.”
“Right.”
“The surgery went well. I’ll tell you more when you're more awake.”
“Sharon…?”
“She’s fine, and Mr Dugan’s still in surgery, but it’s all going well I'm told.”
“Thanks… thank you…”
“You’re very welcome. You just relax. Don't worry if you drift off.”
Tony let his eyes close again, confident that the next time they opened he was liable to be fairly surrounded with much loved faces all around. And he was quite looking forward to it.