ext_76341 (
fairady.livejournal.com) wrote in
cap_ironman2009-06-09 10:49 pm
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Entry tags:
[Fic] Last Request
Title: Last Request
Author: Fairady
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 488
Beta: None
Characters: Tony x Steve
Warnings: Zombies and death.
Disclaimer: I don't own or make money off of these characters.
Notes: Response for this prompt at
comment_fic. And now I bring utter sadness to counter the cute and fluff I brought the other day. I'm sorry.
Summary: The sector was supposed to be clear of any zombies. It was supposed to be safe. 'Supposed to' was a funny phrase that never meant what you thought it should mean.
~
It was a stupid mistake.
There was something wrong with the left gauntlet. Nothing catastrophic, Tony could have easily ignored it and continued on just fine. It'd just annoyed him and the sector he was in had been clear of any reported infestations for months. Thirty seconds, tops, to take it off and fix the problem. Stupid mistake. After all this time, he should have known that no area remains clear for long.
His whole arm burned as the infection slowly spread through him. The cool air being cycled through the containment cell didn't help nearly as much as he thought it would have. He almost wanted to take notes so it could be fixed later. Tony grinned a little, "I want to fix the room right now."
Steve's voice came from a set of speakers set into the ceiling. The electronics could never really transmit a voice, but even with it's tiny imperfections Tony could still hear Steve's exhaustion, "What's wrong with it?"
"Nevermind, it's nothing," Tony imagined Steve in the control room now. Still in a stained uniform from his own patrol and slumped over the mike. Plainly exhausted but too stubborn to leave. He'd seen it often enough from the other side of the walls to have the image memorized.
"Hank's running-"
No, not this. Tony had this part memorized as well and quickly cut him off. "Steve!"
Not now, the last thing that Tony wanted to hear was how close they were to coming up with a cure. Because then he'd have to point out they'd been close for three years now and nothing had ever worked. They'd had this argument before. Too many close calls that always seemed to lead to the inevitable question of 'What if-?' that they'd never come to an agreement over.
"Steve," His arm was numb, and the burning sensation had crept up to his neck. Little fingers of fire worked steadily towards his brain. And now he wishes he'd installed windows or a closed circuit system, because he really wanted to see Steve's face for this. To see him one last time. "I don't want to be one of those things. Walking around without a soul. It wouldn't be me, just another rotting creature. Don't let me become that!"
The silence that filled the room was absolute. Tony strained to catch anything from the speaker, but only heard the ringing in his own ears. "Steve?"
"I won't," The response was so faint he almost didn't think he'd heard it until Steve said it again. "I promise, I won't let you become that."
Tony took an unsteady breath --it was getting harder-- and wished just for a bit that he could kiss Steve one last time. Wished he could do something to fix the pain he could clearly hear in his voice, but he couldn't. All he could do as the infection finally reached his brain, dimming his vision and finally numbing the pain, was whisper, "Thank you."
~
Author: Fairady
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 488
Beta: None
Characters: Tony x Steve
Warnings: Zombies and death.
Disclaimer: I don't own or make money off of these characters.
Notes: Response for this prompt at
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Summary: The sector was supposed to be clear of any zombies. It was supposed to be safe. 'Supposed to' was a funny phrase that never meant what you thought it should mean.
~
It was a stupid mistake.
There was something wrong with the left gauntlet. Nothing catastrophic, Tony could have easily ignored it and continued on just fine. It'd just annoyed him and the sector he was in had been clear of any reported infestations for months. Thirty seconds, tops, to take it off and fix the problem. Stupid mistake. After all this time, he should have known that no area remains clear for long.
His whole arm burned as the infection slowly spread through him. The cool air being cycled through the containment cell didn't help nearly as much as he thought it would have. He almost wanted to take notes so it could be fixed later. Tony grinned a little, "I want to fix the room right now."
Steve's voice came from a set of speakers set into the ceiling. The electronics could never really transmit a voice, but even with it's tiny imperfections Tony could still hear Steve's exhaustion, "What's wrong with it?"
"Nevermind, it's nothing," Tony imagined Steve in the control room now. Still in a stained uniform from his own patrol and slumped over the mike. Plainly exhausted but too stubborn to leave. He'd seen it often enough from the other side of the walls to have the image memorized.
"Hank's running-"
No, not this. Tony had this part memorized as well and quickly cut him off. "Steve!"
Not now, the last thing that Tony wanted to hear was how close they were to coming up with a cure. Because then he'd have to point out they'd been close for three years now and nothing had ever worked. They'd had this argument before. Too many close calls that always seemed to lead to the inevitable question of 'What if-?' that they'd never come to an agreement over.
"Steve," His arm was numb, and the burning sensation had crept up to his neck. Little fingers of fire worked steadily towards his brain. And now he wishes he'd installed windows or a closed circuit system, because he really wanted to see Steve's face for this. To see him one last time. "I don't want to be one of those things. Walking around without a soul. It wouldn't be me, just another rotting creature. Don't let me become that!"
The silence that filled the room was absolute. Tony strained to catch anything from the speaker, but only heard the ringing in his own ears. "Steve?"
"I won't," The response was so faint he almost didn't think he'd heard it until Steve said it again. "I promise, I won't let you become that."
Tony took an unsteady breath --it was getting harder-- and wished just for a bit that he could kiss Steve one last time. Wished he could do something to fix the pain he could clearly hear in his voice, but he couldn't. All he could do as the infection finally reached his brain, dimming his vision and finally numbing the pain, was whisper, "Thank you."
~