From a prompt at the capkink meme. I'm always a sucker for Civil War AUs. The title comes from the song "How to Save a Life" by The Fray.

Walking down the dimly lit halls of the Helicarrier between his personal group of guards, Steve glares at Tony's back. He is leading their little group to the flying vehicle that will take them down to the ground, where Steve will be transferred to a heavier armored vehicle which will take him to his trial. Steve doesn't doubt that he is on his way to a simple show trial and puts off thinking about it too hard. He knows that if you spent too much time thinking about the 'what ifs' you could lose your head. And he needs to have his thoughts together for the hearing, no matter how fixed the outcome probably is.

But without his trial to worry about he has to come up with other things to occupy his mind. And at this moment what was irritating him was the fact that Tony hasn't looked at him for more than a second or two since their shouting match last week. He hadn't even glanced at Steve as he unlocked his cell.

Steve ignores the tiny sliver of worry at how bad Tony looked. At the dark circles under his eyes and the sallow tone of his skin. Steve reminds himself that this is not the man he thought he'd known so well. They were no longer friends.

At least Tony isn't in the armor. He is wearing one of his famous suits, perfectly tailored to fit, his goatee flawlessly sculpted. It doesn't disguise the weariness apparent in Tony's whole body. Steve wishes that he had been allowed a change of clothes. He is back in his battered and torn uniform, albeit without the cowl. It had been taken away and washed, but none of the tears have been mended. It's a small thing to be annoyed about, but focusing on the flaws in his uniform lets him hold on to his anger a while longer and avoid the bigger issue of his upcoming trial.

Stepping out of the truck and into the crowd gathered outside the courthouse, Steve holds his head high, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. The SHIELD agents make a path through the crowd and the ones guarding him motion for Steve to start down the gauntlet. Steve looks straight ahead, not meeting anyone's eyes or answering any of the reporters' shouted questions. He doesn't want to look and see the crowd's hate. Or their judgments.

He knows that he's let them down. All this time the superhero community had been fighting amongst themselves, wasting time that should have been spent protecting people. Steve felt a moment of despair. His trial would no doubt be used to show the effectiveness of the SHRA and how necessary it was. And to prove how dangerous metahumans could be. Steve knows exactly how much damage their battles had caused over the past few months. He at least hopes to get a chance to speak in court and voice his opinions of the Act. Steve follows his guards up the marble steps of the Courthouse, lost in thought.

He feels the heat of a body behind him a split second before he hears the shot go off. Then the body is pushing him further up the steps, urging him to keep moving, leaning on him really, too much weight for him to balance with the strength-damping collar on and his hands locked together. He stumbles down on his knees, feeling the body slide to the ground beside him. His convoy springs to action, eyes alert and searching the perimeter. Steve hears the shouts of "SNIPER!" over the screams of the civilians as more SHIELD agents drag him up and out of the range of fire. Crouching in a small alcove behind a stone pillar with a SHIELD officer surveying the scene and relaying information in her communicator, Steve realizes that he was likely the target of this attack. This was an assassination attempt. Whoever was behind him must have spotted a sniper's laser scope or even seen the shooter.

They must have also taken the shot meant for Steve…

The roar of the panicked crowd and the sound of SHIELD officers barking out orders goes distant as Steve looks back and realizes who took the bullet meant for him. It wasn't a SHIELD agent or one of the other military personnel tasked with keeping back the crowd.

Tony Stark is lying sprawled on the Courthouse steps, blood blossoming on his white shirt.

"Too much blood," Steve distantly thinks, his breathing gone shallow. He can't move. Can't take his eyes off the red stain slowly spreading over Tony's shirt. Three agents are covering Tony against further shots while another is on his knees beside him, attempting to stem the flow of blood with Tony's suit jacket.

The shot is high on the right side of Tony's chest. He'll need medical attention fast. Steve can see how fast he is losing blood. It's staining his shirt and the surrounding steps a dark red.

Suddenly, what transpired between him and Tony these past months doesn't matter. Steve's anger melts in the face of his friend's injury. He can't help it; Tony has always been there for him throughout the years. They'd protected each other on the field and off. And now, Tony needs him.

Steve turns to the agent with him, Evans her name tag reads, and holds out his bound wrists, " Un-cuff me, I can help," he says, remembering at the last second to phrase it as a request, not an order. A stern request that he expects her to quickly obey. His mind is already distracted, figuring out the best way to handle this, running through scenarios on getting Tony to safety and calculating the most obvious places for a shooter to stake out.

"You know I can't do that," the agent replies, standing her ground admirably.
But Steve doesn't have time for her bravado; his best friend is out there and needs his help.

He stands up as straight as he can, using his height to his advantage, getting in her personal space and turning the full force of his glare on her. "Agent Evans, un-cuff me now."

Steve can tell the moment she relents. She wilts and peers around their column before typing in the code to release the special-made cuffs. Before they even hit the ground Steve is crouching low and running into the fray.
The young man putting pressure on Tony's wound double takes when he sees Steve, but is obviously unwilling take on the former Captain America and his determined look.

Steve and the agent carefully pick Tony up and carry him back to the alcove where Steve and Agent Evans had been taking cover. Even with the strength-dampening collar on, it was easy to carry Tony to the sheltered area.

This close, Steve can see how bad Tony really is. His skin is alarmingly pale, his breathing is labored and he is obviously having trouble focusing his eyes.

Agent Evans, who had disappeared for a moment, reappears with a med kit. She and the other agent quickly exchange Tony's ruined suit jacket for several layers of gauze.

Steve tries to keep out of their way but he doesn't want to stray too far from his friend's side. He ends up hovering at Tony's head, wincing at Tony's pained groans and twitches when the Agents probe the bullet's entry wound.

As they remove Tony's bloodied shirt and apply pressure bandages over the gauze, Agent Evans talks to Tony, trying to keep his attention focused, but the news is more for Steve and the other agent's ears.

"Director Stark, I need you to stay alert. Do not pass out. Ambulance ETA is 16 minutes. We have the area covered and agents have already been deployed in the building we think the shot came from."

Tony doesn't reply. His eyes are screwed shut and he seems to be focusing all his effort into breathing slowly. In and out. Steve finds himself matching him breath for breath.

As they finish tying on the pressure bandage the other agent starts questioning Agent Evans, who is obviously his senior, about the possible identities of the shooter.

Before they can start listing supervillians, Tony, whose silence had begun to worry Steve, opens bleary eyes and glances back and forth in the general direction of the agents before finally speaking up.

"Steve…" he rasps out, starling them. "Cap…is he…okay? Did you get him to safety?"

He doesn't realize that Steve was the one to move him. That Steve is right there. The Agents begin to reply in the affirmative but Steve moves into Tony's line of sight, interrupting them. "I'm right here Tony."

Tony's head rolls towards him, his eyes taking a second to focus on Steve's face.

"Steve…You're okay." He phrases it as a statement but his eyes question Steve, wanting reassurances.

Steve moves closer to Tony and grabs his hand, lending him strength.

"I'm fine, Tony. You saved me."

Despite much effort on Steve's part, the words come out thick with emotion as the full reality of what Tony has done hits him.

Tony has always had this worrying habit of sacrificing himself for Steve. Seems even their Civil War didn't break him of it.

A weak smile lights up Tony's face for a moment before a coughing fit takes over. Tony tries to curl into a ball but a grimace of pain flashes across his face as his wound stops him from moving too far. Steve immediately has his hand on Tony's back, comforting and supporting him at the same time. When Tony's breathing finally returns to some semblance of normal and he uncurls to lay flat again, there are spots of blood on his lips.

Breathing still seems to be taking more concentration than usual so Steve attempts to fill the wait for the ambulance with whatever comes to mind. Tries to keep Tony conscious and distract him from the pain. He apologizes for remarks made in anger during their months of fighting, he recounts old adventures. A quick retelling of the time Logan and Ben Grimm had a drinking contest causes Tony to let out a weak laugh before he winces at the pain.

Steve tries not to show it, but he is losing hope. It's only been ten minutes but he can tell Tony is fading fast. Red is starting to seep through the layers of gauze again and Tony's grip in his hand is weak and cold from lack of circulation. He can hear how much effort it is taking for Tony to breathe. Each exhale is accompanied by a rattle that reminds Steve of that time long ago when he suffered from asthma attacks. Between the blood appearing each time Tony coughs and the labored breathing, Steve realizes that the bullet must have damaged a lung.

Steve's heart sinks lower.

Reality begins to set in.

The screams and noises from the crowd have quieted, but he doesn't hear the distant whine of sirens yet.

He turns to the Agents, who have moved off a little to give Steve and Tony the illusion of privacy while remaining close enough to keep an eye on Steve should he for some reason snap and attempt to run.

He asks for the ambulance ETA.

"At least 5 more minutes," Agent Evans replies. "All vehicles are having trouble navigating through the panicked crowds." Her face remains impassive but her eyes betray her worry.

Another cough rattles thru Tony's chest, drawing Steve's attention. He turns back to Tony, supporting him, rubbing comforting circles on his back. The coughs seem to go on longer than before. Tony struggles to draw a full breath between hacking, not so much breathing as gasping in air.

It seems to drain Tony's strength. His eyes drift shut.

A bubble of panic wells up in Steve's chest.

"Tony?! No, no! Come on Tony, look at me. Open your eyes," Steve pleads, releasing
Tony's hand and reaching to cup his face instead, "you have to stay awake for me."

Tony opened his eyes slowly and with great effort.
"Only for you, Cap."

Steve gently wipes away the blood from Tony's pale lips.

"All those years…trying to get me to sleep more, dragging me up from the lab…now you're keeping me awake."

It's a bittersweet memory of better times. Steve smiles, smoothing Tony's sweat damp hair out of his face.

"Someone had to keep an eye on you."

"Well this time…I was the one who had your back," Tony wheezes.

"I never doubted it," Steve lies, voice thick with emotion.

Tony's grip loosens, but Steve doesn't let go.

Not even when Tony's eyes drift shut again and his chest stills.

Steve lowers his head and finally, lets the tears fall.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.