I Thought You Were Different: Part 4

Discomfort

Tony's face contorted into a pained grimace as the serum hit his veins, even though it was a small amount that was carefully formulated by Bruce to be as safe as he could make it without knowing for sure what it was really composed of. The solution held only the haze of its original blue color, but even though it was diluted, it didn't diminish the sting of contact with human blood any less. "How in the hell did Steve do this?"

"Well, he had something to prove back then," Bucky answered readily, "still does if you ask me."

"Tony, you need to keep breathing," Bruce warned, pulling the needle from his friend's arm. He shot a worried glance up to the monitor behind Tony's head and watched intently as the heart rate climbed steadily with no signs of slowing. "Dammit, I knew this was a bad idea," the doctor snapped, tossing the syringe onto the tray next to him and turning to grab another that would reverse what he had done; if he had calculated correctly, that is.

"No, don't," Tony urged, grabbing Bruce's hand to stop him, "I can do this."

"Tony, your heart rate is almost 200."

"I can do it."

Bruce grumbled a curse under his breath, still holding the supposed antidote in his hands and ready to administer. He watched the rate hit 200, then 210, and 220, finally deciding that he wasn't taking Tony's orders anymore and grabbed his arm. "I'm stopping this right now. Your heart can't keep this up."

"Then it'll just have to explode," Tony argued, pushing him away. "I'm not giving up."

"Dad, that's enough!"

"Come on, Stark," Sam now joined in, "don't do this. It's not worth it."

When the rate hit 230, you jumped up from your chair, frantic yet determined to take control. "Dad, I can't let you do this," you protested, nodding to Sam and Bucky who quickly moved to each side of him. Bucky secured his legs while you and Sam took his arms, allowing Bruce to inject the second solution as the four of you stared at the monitor, each of you unknowingly holding your breath as you waited for the number to start to drop.

But it didn't.

"Bruce...it's not working."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Is this what a stroke feels like?" Tony mumbled, hanging his head down wearily and heavily. "My head is killing me."

"I'm gonna call 911," Sam finally decided, making the first bit of sense that you had heard since this all started. He released Tony's arm and grabbed his phone, turning away to make the call while the three of you continued to watch and hope that anything would work before it was too late.

"Tony, lift up your head," Bruce ordered. When he did, the doctor thrust his fist forward into Tony's chest with as much force as he could, slamming the man back into the chair with a hard jolt and a strained exhalation that emptied the air from his lungs in a tense and pained grunt.

Bucky could only stare, wide eyed and admittedly a bit impressed by Bruce's strength even without his transformation to do it. Still, it was a shock to more than just Tony and now Bucky wasn't sure if he should intervene or remain a reluctant accomplice in all of it. "What the hell, Doc? You trying to kill the guy faster?"

"No..." he answered uncertainly, again watching the beats of Tony's heart on the screen. The rapid hit in just the right spot at just the right time had stopped it's rhythmic beat for a few agonizing seconds, and as the doctor had hoped, it began again and much slower now. It was still faster than he would like to see, but at least now he wasn't worried that he was killing his friend with each passing beat.