They were a well-oiled machine. For the first time, they were working fully in sync, cooperating together with a wordless understanding and a common goal. Steve compressed your chest to keep your heart beating while Tony breathed for you. They were working in a perfect rhythm as if they had practiced this moment for years. They were keeping you alive.

"Barton, how much farther?" Steve called out, his voice faltering.

"Three minutes."

Natasha was ducking around the two men, skillfully inserting a needle into your vein to squeeze bag after bag of fluid into you to make up for the lost blood. "Do better, Clint," she whispered harshly to him, "he's breaking." It had been barely twelve hours that he had you back, and Steve was ready to give you his last breath to keep you alive. Natasha watched both men carefully, ready to take their place if she needed to.

"We're in for landing," Clint called out, "medics are at the door and ready to take her, Cap."

Steve jumped up onto the table and straddled your waist, continuing the compressions as they wheeled you out for the medical team to take over. Tony reluctantly let go when Natasha forced his hands away and held him when he crumbled to the floor, fully exhausted and completely terrified, his anxiety building and making his own breaths ragged.

Once inside the infirmary, Bruce directed the team to the temporary surgical suite they had set up, pulling out the cart of emergency supplies to revive you. To Steve, there were no sounds or sights other than the counting of compressions in his head, and your face as he watched it for any sign of life. When they told him that he could step away, it was as if he heard nothing.

"Captain Rogers, we can take over," one of the doctors offered but with no result. Bruce cautiously moved next to Steve and put his hand on top of his, keeping it there as his motions continued. "Steve, it's okay," he reassured quietly, but his efforts went on without pause. Bruce turned to Clint and gave a nod, with immediate understanding as he ran from the room. Seconds later, Bucky and Sam appeared and flanked him at either side.

"Steve, stop."

"Come on, Cap. You've done enough."

"She can't," he mumbled, the fatigue beginning to show in him.

"She won't, Steve. But you need to let them work," Bucky said quietly, putting a hand on Steve's arm, only to find it brushed off angrily. "Steve, don't make us do this." When he didn't respond, Bucky pointed Clint to Sam's side and moved in; Bucky took Steve's arms with the other two holding his legs.

"Get off me!" Steve hollered, trying to fight them off but too tired to put up his usual amount of fight. "I can't leave her!" He continued to struggle until they finally had pulled him out of the room and the doctors had taken you out of his line of sight. When they released him, he stumbled back against the wall and slid to the floor, panting and staring at his shaking hands. "Buck..."

"We'll stay right here with you, for as long as it takes, okay?" Bucky said, taking a seat in front of his friend, with Sam taking his place next to him so both men were blocking his route to the door. Bucky had no idea what to say in a time like this; he didn't know anything that would make Steve feel better or make him understand what was happening. All he could do was be there.

"You did good, Steve."

~~~

After three hours, Steve sent Sam away. Thirty minutes later, Bucky followed. Steve hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, siting in an almost statuesque stillness. Natasha and Clint had passed by him without stopping, sensing that he wanted to be alone, but Tony wouldn't have it. He sat on the floor next to Steve, silently waiting with him until the quiet became too much.

"Steve-"

"Don't."

"She's gonna be okay, you know that."

"Have you ever done that before, Tony? What we did back there? Because I haven't, and I never want to experience that again. On anyone." Steve brought his hands together in front of him and turned them over, examining them as if they were showing him something that wasn't really there. "Have you ever felt bones crack under your hands? I don't mean the sound of hitting someone, I mean cracking, breaking, because of what you're doing? Breaking someone that you love with your own hands?"

"Don't do that to yourself. They say that's unavoidable," he replied with a shudder at the thought, having a new respect for Steve in that he was holding together at all after that. He envisioned that they had changed places, and the vivid imagery in his own mind sent a wave of nausea through him.

"Has anyone talked to you yet?"

"No."

"I'm gonna go in there," Tony began and started to stand when Steve grabbed his arm to stop him. He sat back down and looked at the Captain, confused.

"Don't go in there," he whispered, "if it's bad, I don't want to know yet. I need to be able to read their faces before they say a word to me." He finally looked up and turned to Tony, with his eyes puffy and red, "I don't want you to be the person to tell me something bad, Tony. I'd never be able to look at you again."

~~~

"Captain Rogers?"

Steve opened his eyes at the sensation of a hand on his shoulder, not sure who it belonged to but not really caring. With a deep breath he steeled himself, telling himself that he could handle it; telling himself that you would want him to keep control and that it wasn't their fault. It wasn't his. He couldn't get the image of the pale blueness of your skin out of his mind. He couldn't stop seeing Tony breathing into you when you wouldn't do it on your own. He needed to see you as he knew you before it began to drive him mad.

"Captain?"

He stood from the floor and forced himself to look at the doctor, reading his expression just as he said he wanted to, but finding no explicit emotions. "Of course her doctor has a poker face. Wouldn't expect anything else," he mumbled to himself with a sigh.

"Captain, we should talk," the doctor said, extending his hand to lead him into the infirmary and towards a few chairs scattered on the far side of the room. Steve sat and looked around, hearing the beeping of monitors and the hum of pumps and breathing machines, but he didn't know if they were attached to you or not. He couldn't see you anywhere, and he felt his heart begin to race again. "We've repaired her wounds and she's heavily sedated. She's also received a great deal of blood from Mr. Barton, Mr. Fury and Ms. Hill."

Steve perked up in his seat, adjusting to sit taller with a more eager expression. "But she's alive..."

"She's alive, yes." The doctor leaned forward in the chair, putting a hand on Steve's arm, "Steve, she's alive because of you and Mr. Stark. There's no other reason for her to still be here. You need to know that."

Steve took another long breath, but it was shaky and rough, his chest heaving with the emotions that he had refused to release in front of his friends. He tried to hold them back but it was futile, with his shoulders hunching over as the wave hit him. The doctor sat with him for several minutes, holding a supportive hand on him, waiting for the Captain for as long as he needed. Bruce had noticed the scene and quietly made his way over.

"Steve, come with me." Banner led Steve into the area where you were recovering, putting him into a blue surgical gown and gloves, bringing a chair for him to finally be next to you. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," Steve whispered, his eyes now locked on you. He reached up to touch your hand first and sighed a quiet and tearful laugh that it was warm against his own. His other hand touched your cheek and he again smiled at its temperature, studying the colors of your skin as if he had never seen them before. The images that were haunting him began to fade, replaced with this version of you; the version with hope that you were going to be okay.

"Hey, baby," he whispered, stroking your hair and winding it around his fingers gently, "I'm here. You really scared me, you know? I'd like you to stop that now. Captain's orders," he choked out, his voice beginning to fail him again with the scratchy familiarity of crying. His right hand shifted from yours and moved to the center of your chest where he had pushed against it, trying to feel the damage he had done. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He sniffled quietly, rubbing a hand across his face as he watched your chest rise and fall with the ventilator.

"I need you to do something for me, (Y/N)," he continued with a furrowed brow, trying to choose his words carefully. "I'm gonna need you to pull through this, alright? I need you to tell me when I'm not making you feel like you're the most important person in my life. Because I don't ever want you to feel like you're not, okay? I need you to pull through this so I can start right now."

Tony sheepishly poked his head around the corner, with his hands hidden in his pockets and his expression cautious. "Cap?"

"Come in, Tony."

He slowly walked to the other side of your table, taking your hand and gently running a finger over the bandage that secured your IV, finally bringing it to his lips and then held against his cheek. "She's warm," he sighed with a relieved grin. "God, she was so cold. I thought..."

"I know, me too." Steve leaned back and away from you slightly, but making sure to not break contact. "Thank you. Thank you for what you did, Tony. I owe you."

"Nah," he said dismissively, "I did what I had to do. Just like you did."

Steve nodded, "yeah, you're right. But that's not what I was talking about. I want to thank you for her. You introduced us, remember? Pepper brought her by and said she was hired as your new assistant?"

"Right," Tony smiled, "my SHIELD-hired assistant that had the means to kick my ass from here to next Tuesday? I knew who was in charge from minute one. I thought of you immediately and knew it was meant to be."

The two men sat quietly for several minutes, the silence filled only with the occasional beep of a monitor or the shuffle of a doctor's feet as they checked you. Steve bit his lower lip nervously, glancing at Tony often enough for him to finally pick up on it. "What?"

"If I tell you something," Steve began, pointing cautiously at Tony, "will you promise me to keep your mouth shut? I know how hard that is for you, Stark."

"Lips are sealed," he agreed with a wide smile, completely excited that Steve was about to trust him with a secret. This had never happened before and he was almost giddy. "Spill it!"

"Okay," Steve sighed, looking over his shoulder to be sure that no one else would overhear. He leaned forward, with Tony leaning in over you to get closer. "Before all of this started...with that whole Wanda thing...I had a plan. A plan that I need your help to get done."

"You've got it! What's the plan-" he stopped, turning sharply when a monitor began to scream behind him and two of your doctors rushed in to check it. "Woah, what's happening?"

Steve stood immediately and grabbed your hand, lowering himself to rest his forehead on yours. "Hey, doll. We have a deal, right? You're not gonna scare me anymore." He glanced up at the doctor who was gathering supplies in his hand and snapping on his gloves. He reached over and took your breathing tube in his hands, signaling for Steve and Tony to each take a step back.

"She's waking up."