A/N: I saw that @Trekkiehood was looking for some whumpy Steve content, so I decided to give it a go. This isn't connected to the preferences at all.

You tried groggily to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. Bright, white lights shone from above you. They stabbed into your cloudy vision, piercing your nerves and increasing the pounding ache in your head.

"(Y/N)!" The voice sounded distant, like you were hearing it from under water, or through a very old telephone. Who was it? You felt like you knew the voice, but your mind refused to place it. "(Y/N), you have to get up. Come on!" They grew more desperate. "Please! We have to go! Wake up!"

Fighting through the thick fog of pain in your head, you forced your eyes open. A face came into focus above yours, and you realized that they were gripping your shoulders, shaking you roughly. Recognition flashed through your dulled senses. "Tony?" Your voice creaked out of you, as if it had been in disuse for a very long time.

"Oh, thank god," he breathed, "Listen, I know it's hard, but you need to get up and come with us." He started fumbling with something on your arm. There was a loud ripping sound. You realized that you had been bound to a chair. Tony finished removing the ties on the other side and grabbed your hand, placing his free arm around your shoulders. He pulled you up as quickly as he could without hurting you.

The fog was beginning to clear and you looked around the small room. The walls and floor were dirty grey concrete. Your eyes immediately fell to the splatters of rusty dried blood on the floor around your feet, and you began to remember. You and Tony had been on a recon mission, in search of Loki's scepter. It had looked promising, and the two of you had decided to go in and retrieve it. Surprisingly, you had found minimal security around the place; so you ran in, guns and repulsor gauntlets blazing, only to find that it had been a trap the whole time. They had some sort of tech that powered down Tony's suit with one blast. It had brought him down with a dull clang, and you had been quickly overtaken. That was the last thing you remembered.

Your gaze fell upon the man who was practically dragging you out of the cell. His face was hollowed and sunken, as if he hadn't eaten well or even slept for months. His scrawny arms were splotched with bruises and discoloration. He met your eyes and gave a feeble attempt at a smile; it ended up looking more like a grimace.

"It's been so long," he managed to say between labored breaths. You could hear shouting and gunfire from somewhere else in the building. He gave a raspy chuckle. "You look awful. I can't believe we're finally getting out of this place."

"What's happening?"

"The team is here. Apparently we were moved from the original location after they captured us. Steve has been heading up searches for months, but they'd passed over this place a hundred times. It's completely underground, and doesn't show up on any of our tech."

"Months?" you asked, incredulous. You couldn't remember anything after your initial capture.

Tony stopped suddenly and stood in front of you, looking into your eyes. "(Y/N) . . . It's been almost a year."

"What?" Your voice trembled as you spoke. You put your hands to your head and closed your eyes, wracking your brain, searching for any memory from the past year. There was nothing. Only a blank void. Pain stabbed through your skull as you tried to remember. "No," you breathed, looking up and searching Tony's dark eyes, "No, it couldn't be. I was just asleep. I was just sleeping!"

Your friend shook his head, seemingly just as lost as you were. Before he could say anything, Steve came sprinting down the hall. "Tony, we have to-" His eyes fell upon your trembling form and he looked relieved. "You found her."

- - - - - - - - - -

Finally.

After months of searching, there they were, standing just a few feet in front of him. Steve pushed away the lump in his throat that threatened to bring tears of joy spilling from his eyes. Ever since you and Tony had been taken, he had focused all of the team's efforts on finding you. He had been close to giving up. Surely the two of you would be dead by now. Then, out of the blue, a blip appeared on one of the sensors. JARVIS had come online for the first time in nearly a year, and he was sending out a faint distress signal. Bruce traced it to what was seemingly the middle of nowhere before it blinked out again.

This was it. He assembled the Avengers as quickly as he possibly could, and got Rhodes to summon the Iron Legion. They were going to give this everything they had, and they would either bring you home or die trying. It wasn't like they were really the Avengers without the two of you anyway. Without Tony, all of the leadership had fallen on Steve, and he had become so tired, trying desperately to keep the team together and to find you. He and Tony may have had their differences, but Steve still considered him a trusted friend and a brother. Maybe the frequent arguing had been what made their relationship so like that between siblings. Steve hated being without him, and he knew the whole team felt the same.

And you . . . You had been his rock; his closest friend and confidant, and maybe someday something more. Without you, his first instinct was to simply shut down, but he knew that he had to keep going if he ever wanted to see you again. Whenever he lost hope, he needed only to think of the day when he could bring you home to have his perseverance restored.

And now, the two people who had occupied his every waking thought were finally there within arms reach.

"Thanks, Tony," he said, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. He hated how weak and sickly he looked, and wished that they could have found this place sooner. Time had not been kind to his friend.

"She can't stand on her own." Tony passed you off to him gently. You didn't look well either. You didn't seem to be in a stable state of mind, as your gaze never left the floor. You didn't even acknowledge his presence.

"The quinjet's right outside. They should be finished up clearing out the hostiles. Oh, and we brought your suit," said Steve. He couldn't help a smile when Tony's eyes lit up at the mention of his armor.

"They never did find these," Tony said with a grin. He rubbed his forearm where his implants remained. He flicked his arms out, summoning the suit. It took a minute, since they were still underground, but soon the metal pieces came rushing around the corner at the end of the hall, attaching themselves to Tony in a sequence that still left Steve in wonder at how far technology had come in this day and age.

Steve stood, taking in the sight of the Iron Man, and he almost cried again. "It's good to have you back, brother."

"It's good to be back." Stark's voice came, robotic, from the helmet. Steve wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but the faint sound of Black Sabbath seemed also to come from inside the armor.

"You go on ahead. I've got her," he said, gesturing to you.

"Yes sir," said Tony sarcastically. He started to leave, but then turned back. "Oh, and Cap?"

"Yeah?"

"She doesn't remember anything." At the sound of Tony's words, Steve's world felt as if it had come crashing down around him again. What did that mean? Were you like Bucky? Did you even know your own name?

Tony continued, "This whole year, it's all been wiped or something. She said she thought she had been sleeping. That this whole time was just a few hours or something."

While that was still very bad, Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. He looked down at you, who still hadn't lifted your gaze from the floor or even said a word since he'd found you. "Alright."

The Iron Man nodded solemnly, then turned and rocketed up the corridor, leaving you alone with Steve.

"(Y/N)?" he said tenderly.

You didn't respond. He realized then that you were shaking, still staring at the floor.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he began again, and moved to brush a lock of hair from your face. His fingers brushed against your forehead and he recoiled sharply. "Geez, you're burning up!"

Still, nothing. He pulled you in front of him and lifted your chin. He met your glazed over eyes and grew more frantic. "(Y/N), it's me. I'm gonna get you out of here."

Finally, you reacted. Your brows furrowed. "Steve?" Though your eyes were still cloudy, Steve could see that your mind was working. You smiled excitedly. "Steve! You came! You're here-"

You stopped short. Your hands flew up to your head and you squeezed your eyes shut in an agonized grimace. You pulled away from him, and for a moment, Steve was scared you were going to fall, but you stood. You were hunched over, thin fingers pulling at your hair, your face still twisted in pain.

"(Y/N)?"

Your eyes snapped open, now more clouded than before, as if you were wearing thick grey contact lenses. You straightened, your strength apparently renewed, and your hands dropped to your sides.

"We've been waiting for you." The voice that came from your lips seemed to belong to someone else. It was deeper, huskier than your normal voice. You tilted you head. "We were starting to think you were never going to find us."

Steve took a step back, mortified at the sudden change. "(Y/N), what's going on?"

"We knew you would come for her eventually, so we installed a security protocol of sorts." You gave a wicked grin. Black ooze seeped from your fingertips and dripped to the ground where it began to bubble wildly. You took a few steps toward him, leaving small, black craters in the concrete floor behind you.

He backed away. "This isn't- This isn't you, (Y/N). You have to push past whatever this is. Fight it!" His voice wavered. He looked from your dripping, inky black hands up to your eyes, which had darkened to the same soulless obsidian. He stopped with his back against the cold stone wall of the corridor, and didn't bother trying to run. You would never hurt him, right? Besides, he was trying to rescue you, and he couldn't very well do that if he ran away.

"Not putting up much of a fight, are you, Captain?" you giggled, still advancing. "We knew you wouldn't. Not with this familiar face behind the proverbial gun." You brushed a stray hair away and tucked it behind your ear flirtatiously, smearing the black substance onto your forehead. It bubbled grotesquely, but you seemed not to notice how your skin was being eaten away.

"I won't hurt you." He really wasn't sure what he would do. He certainly couldn't fight you. Deep down, he knew that you were still there. His mind scrambled to find a solution, something that could fix this horrible mess that he still didn't quite understand. "You know I could never-"

"Blah, blah, blah. We know!" You were so close now. Steve tried to keep his eyes off of the mark on your face, but it was well near impossible. The wound had stopped boiling, but it looked excruciatingly deep, and it steamed. The smell of burnt flesh caught in his nose.

You continued, close enough to touch him now. "That's what makes this so easy."

Your dripping hand raised up and you held it there for a moment. He looked around, realizing then that he had set down his shield sometime ago. It lay shining on the ground a few feet behind you, taunting him. How stupid of him! He had been so distracted and utterly taken aback by your gruesome changes that he hadn't even thought of what to do if you really did try to kill him . . . Like you were right now.

He would have to take a hit. It was the only solution he could think of. A little bit of acid never hurt anyone . . .

Your hand shot past his right ear and started sizzling as it planted itself in the wall beside him. You hiked your leg up and pressed your body against his, taking your time, seeming to enjoy this as much as a spider catching a fly.

"You know," you said softly, "It really is a shame that she won't remember any of this. We know she loved you dearly." You gave a terrible laugh. "In her sleep, she was always muttering 'Steve this' and 'Steve that'. It was absolutely sickening. She won't even know that she's the one who killed you."

You pressed your palm against his armored chest and smiled, then closed your eyes and leaned up for a kiss. This was his chance.

He took you by the waist and spun you around, pushing you against the wall in his place. While you recovered, momentarily in shock, he dove for his shield. Just as the most vile, seething angry look crawled across your face, he came back around and hit the shield into your head. You fell in a heap at his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said sorrowfully. He then watched in amazement as the acid on your hands soaked back into your skin, leaving them as clean as if the past few moments had never happened.

He looked down at the black splotch on his suit, it simmered and smoked, giving off a nasty odor, but seemed to still be intact. As long as the armor did its job, he would be fine. His gaze fell on your crumpled form again and his heart sunk. Whatever they had done to you was going to be difficult to reverse, if it was possible at all.

A sudden boom came from somewhere above the bunker, sending a shockwave through the floor under Steve's feet. It was time to go. He slung his shield onto his back, lifted you carefully into his arms, and ran. It was a long way back to the surface, and who knew what might be waiting on the way. The acid was still steadily eating away at his armor, but he didn't have time to think about that.

"Hey Cap?" Rhodey's voice crackled through his earpiece.

"Rhodes?"

"Not trying to rush you two love birds or anything," he joked, "but we need to move out. They're bringing in back up and it's not gonna be pretty if we stay much longer."

"Copy that. We're on our way." He picked up his speed, now running as fast as he dared, trying not to jostle you too much.

After a few minutes of running through hallway after hallway, Steve heard heavy footsteps coming down the next passage. He skidded to a halt, hoping that the passing detachment hadn't heard him. Pressing his back against the wall, he waited, thankful that the lights were mostly burnt out in this sector. The men marched past quickly, all in perfect unison, and he felt relieved as he was almost in the clear.

Just then, a searing pain rippled over his chest. He let out a strangled grunt, trying and failing to stay silent. He looked down to find that the hole on his uniform had grown and the acid had finally eaten through. It had found its way to his skin and seemed to be making quick work of it. It felt like magma had just been poured onto him.

One of the soldiers at the back of the unit must have heard him. The man peeled away from his group, gun ready, and stepped slowly toward the passageway. Steve bit down on his lip to keep from crying out again. He stepped back quietly, hearing the approaching footsteps and instantly regretting having made noise.

He was Captain America, he should be able to handle a little pain!

He set you on the floor against the wall and reached back for his shield, feeling every movement tear at the growing wound above his heart.

Fight through it, Steve. Do it for the team. Do it for (Y/N).

But you were the one who had put him in this situation weren't you?

No. He had brought this upon himself. He should have been ready for anything. He should have kept his shield with him, even around you.

The HYDRA goon came around the corner, and Steve lobbed the metal disc at him, knocking the gun from his hands. He sprang then, incapacitating the soldier almost immediately. Steve lowered the unconscious man to the ground as quietly as he could, then listened. No one else seemed to have heard the commotion, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks for that.

He scooped you up in his arms and began to run again. Every step brought a fresh shock of pain through his chest, but he had to keep going. If the HYDRA reinforcements arrived before they lifted off, the whole mission would be a failure, and HYDRA would have all of the Avengers, not just two.

The hot, stinging pain gradually decreased to a deep ache as the acid finished its work, for which he was grateful. At least now he knew that the damage was complete and wouldn't continue to spread. Yet still every jolt of his boots hitting the concrete reminded him of how deep the wound was. He didn't dare look at it, knowing that acknowledging it would probably make it hurt worse. He wouldn't look at you either; the bloody cavity on your face brought almost as much pain to him as his own injury.

"Steve, you okay down there?" That was Tony.

After a moment's hesitation, Steve replied, "Yeah." It was the first time he had spoken since his armor had given out, and he wasn't expecting his voice to sound so strained.

"You sure? You don't sound too good." Tony's words dripped with concern.

"I'm alright," said Steve, this time making an effort to mask his exhaustion and agony. "Just be ready to take off as soon as we're clear, okay?"

"Roger that, Rogers! . . . Oh . . . No . . . That was terrible. Sorry you had to hear that. I'm a bit out if practice."

Steve let out a pained chuckle, realizing how much he missed his friend's humor. "We'll be right up, Stark."

He heard the fizz as the comm clicked off and he let out a shaky breath. His feet were starting to feel oddly heavy, as if there were bricks strapped to his ankles. It threw him off because he wasn't used to feeling tired, at least, not in this capacity. He stared ahead, willing himself to keep going; but that was when he noticed the spots dancing in his vision. He tried to blink the purple splotches out of his eyes to no avail.

What's wrong with me?

Steve had received wounds far worse than this on many occasions, but had never faced these symptoms before.
His head, like his feet, was growing increasingly heavy, and the floor seemed to spin under him as he ran. Was he running? It was hard to tell anymore. He felt as though he was slogging through thick mud.

Finally, he brought himself to look at the hole in his chest and instantly regretted his actions. His stomach lurched at the sight of the smoldering black pit that had taken up residence where the star on his suit used to be. Black tendrils had crept away from the original wound, and were slowly making their way outward through his veins. It was poisoning him.

You had poisoned him.

No!

He clawed through the dense fog that crowded his brain. It wasn't your fault. They had changed you. Those sick monsters had turned you into a weapon. He couldn't blame you. And he knew he shouldn't blame himself either, but he did nonetheless.

His labored breathing echoed up the hall ahead of him. He desperately needed to stop and rest, but he knew that, if he did, he'd lose his momentum, and probably wouldn't even be able to lift you again. He had to keep running. Surely, the exit was getting closer.

A dagger of white hot pain ripped into him, feeling as if someone had stabbed him between the ribs, and was now twisting the blade, destroying his insides with each grinding turn. Crying out, he stumbled and nearly dropped you. The twisting continued. He squeezed his eyes shut and slammed himself against the wall, arching his back and writhing, trying in desperation to make it stop.

He hated this. More than he hated the injury, he hated the terrible screams he was letting loose from his throat. He hated that he couldn't even save you properly. He hated the weakness that pulled down on his bones, bringing him closer and closer to collapsing in defeat.

He needed to be strong. For you. He had to stay awake- stay alive, if only for the sake of being able to see you smiling and healthy again.

His insides still wrenched and turned within him, but he pushed off of the wall and moved on once again. Your weight in his arms, though it grew ever more strenuous, gave him some hope to cling to. He was going to get you home safe. Dying here would mean this whole mission was all for naught. You would still belong to HYDRA and he wouldn't be around to do anything about it.

He couldn't let that happen. So, he pressed on.

Rounding the bend, he could now hear the faint sounds of battle. It emanated down the passageway from the door just ahead of him.

Almost there.

He pushed, willing his feet to move faster, but the weariness in his limbs seemed to hold him back. It was as if he was dragging a heavy ball and chain behind him. He could almost hear it scraping behind him with every step.

Twenty more feet to the exit.

I can do this!

Nineteen feet. Eighteen.

His chest ached, and his eyes felt like they were burning inside their sockets. He could barely see through the growing spots that obscured his vision.

Fifteen feet. Now ten.

"Steve, we have to go now!" exclaimed Natasha. Sounds of her struggle also came through the comm. "Where are you?"

"I'm . . . coming," Steve breathed.

His blurry, spinning world grew brighter as the exit door burst open. Tony stood silhouetted, in his Iron Man suit, in the doorway. He caught sight of Steve. "Cap!"

On trembling legs, Steve stumbled the last few feet between him and his friend.  Your weight was lifted from his arms as Tony took you and quickly passed you off to Thor, who ran you to the quinjet.

With you finally safe, Steve felt his determination die completely. He heard Tony's voice yelling his name in panic as his knees gave out beneath him. The gravel rushed up to meet him and the last thing he felt was the sharp pain of rocks stabbing into his wound. The last thing he heard was the sound of his own scream.

- - - - - - - - - -

He woke several times on the flight back to the base. All he could remember from each moment awake were the piercing white lights on the ceiling of the cabin, rushed voices of several people moving about him, and the feeling of his own body seizing violently. A monitor screamed somewhere he couldn't see. He could feel the foam that smothered his lips, but had no control over his actions. He couldn't even breathe. It was terrifying.

Each time he regained momentary consciousness, he clung to it, thinking it was his last. He knew that he was dying; and it surprised him how much the fact scared him, now that he was on Death's door. There had been so many times that he'd wished that he had just died aboard the Valkyrie all those years ago. Now that he was actually dying, the prospect felt less than enticing.

He slipped from consciousness one last time, faintly hearing the monitor go flat, and he knew that this must be it. He would never see you or Tony or Sam ever again. He wished he could have seen you one more time before he died, since his last memory of you was so terrible. He wanted to make sure you were safe, and that you wouldn't turn on the rest of the team either. But he couldn't, so he rested in the hope that he would see his parents soon, and maybe some of his pals from the war. That was his last thought as his mind descended into the darkness.

- - - - - - - - - -

It felt like he had only closed his eyes for a minute when the antiseptic smell of medical chemicals greeted his nose. Another heart monitor was beeping steadily behind him, but this time he was under scratchy sheets and surrounded by the scent of a hospital. He could tell that beyond his closed eyes hung bright lights that were just waiting to sting his sleepy retinas.

He stirred, instantly full of regret as he was painfully reminded of the gaping hole in his chest. A hand that had been resting in his squeezed gently and the person it belonged to began to shift.

"Steve?" Your groggy voice met his ears and he smiled at the sound of it, realizing that he would live to see another day. He would live to see you again.

This time, he would cherish Death's decision to spare him. From this day forward, he would live like a man snatched from the grave, and be glad of each and every breath that filled his lungs.