The world is moving too quickly, and Tony's head is spinning, but he can't make it stop.
When Natasha starts to help him lay down, Tony almost resists - we have to get out - but the energy for it faded before he could even protest. Once down, though, it's almost as if he goes underwater. It's almost as if the metal sticking out of his chest is pinning him down, almost as if it's the heaviest damn thing in the world, and Tony can barely breathe. Even when Natasha asks him what happened, Tony thinks he answers, but he can barely open his lips.
God, it hurts. It hurts, the pain radiates through him in waves, and it's like the tide is too strong for him to fight. His vision blurs and fades as he tries to fight the way his eyes want to droop close, and if he's holding on it's mainly because Natasha's watery laugh is something that is alarming enough to make him realize he has to stay awake, but it's hard to focus. It's hard to think. It's hard to remember that he shouldn't fall asleep; it's hard to not just succumb to that darkness that is trying to claim him all too quickly.
And then... Clint? His voice sounds like him, asking him to blink, and he does even if it's delayed and for a moment he almost wonders if he's even really there. Is he dreaming? Shit, maybe all of this is a dream, maybe it's all in his head--
But, no. His head lolls to the side, as if to check if he's dreaming, to see if Cisco is still there, but even doing just that hurts and if he doesn't cry out it's only because his throat doesn't seem to work anymore. His body tenses, though, his features distorting from the pain, and even if he can't voice how much it hurts, his vision blurs again.
Is this how it ends? He's going to die in the rubble. He's going to die with a piece of metal buried in his chest, and there's Natasha, and Clint, and Steve, and--... Barnes? Okay, now he's definitely dreaming, but maybe this is just how it needs to end. There's people that he let down (Clint, and even Cisco, considering he couldn't get them out), and friends he never repaired things with (Natasha and Steve), and the one that haunts him for various reasons (Barnes), and well. Leave it to the Computer to have a screwed up sense of humor about it all.
I'm sorry, he wants to tell them, any of them, all of them, but the words get stuck in his throat and feel like they choke him. He doesn't have the energy to talk - he barely has the energy to breathe and force himself to stay awake, but he's drowning. He's sure of it; he's just waiting until he sinks completely into darkness.
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When Natasha starts to help him lay down, Tony almost resists - we have to get out - but the energy for it faded before he could even protest. Once down, though, it's almost as if he goes underwater. It's almost as if the metal sticking out of his chest is pinning him down, almost as if it's the heaviest damn thing in the world, and Tony can barely breathe. Even when Natasha asks him what happened, Tony thinks he answers, but he can barely open his lips.
God, it hurts. It hurts, the pain radiates through him in waves, and it's like the tide is too strong for him to fight. His vision blurs and fades as he tries to fight the way his eyes want to droop close, and if he's holding on it's mainly because Natasha's watery laugh is something that is alarming enough to make him realize he has to stay awake, but it's hard to focus. It's hard to think. It's hard to remember that he shouldn't fall asleep; it's hard to not just succumb to that darkness that is trying to claim him all too quickly.
And then... Clint? His voice sounds like him, asking him to blink, and he does even if it's delayed and for a moment he almost wonders if he's even really there. Is he dreaming? Shit, maybe all of this is a dream, maybe it's all in his head--
But, no. His head lolls to the side, as if to check if he's dreaming, to see if Cisco is still there, but even doing just that hurts and if he doesn't cry out it's only because his throat doesn't seem to work anymore. His body tenses, though, his features distorting from the pain, and even if he can't voice how much it hurts, his vision blurs again.
Is this how it ends? He's going to die in the rubble. He's going to die with a piece of metal buried in his chest, and there's Natasha, and Clint, and Steve, and--... Barnes? Okay, now he's definitely dreaming, but maybe this is just how it needs to end. There's people that he let down (Clint, and even Cisco, considering he couldn't get them out), and friends he never repaired things with (Natasha and Steve), and the one that haunts him for various reasons (Barnes), and well. Leave it to the Computer to have a screwed up sense of humor about it all.
I'm sorry, he wants to tell them, any of them, all of them, but the words get stuck in his throat and feel like they choke him. He doesn't have the energy to talk - he barely has the energy to breathe and force himself to stay awake, but he's drowning. He's sure of it; he's just waiting until he sinks completely into darkness.