Rush of Blood

Chapter 9: Merely a Shadow

8:17 A.M. The beat goes on.

thump thump thump thump

Several things happen at once. Voices seem to blend together, talking over each other, a mixture of concern and comfort, and Rogers views everything as it slows down and bleaches out.

Everyone's been watching you. This whole time…

Steve tries to speak, but he only manages to mouth the words, "How could you…?"

Thor's strong arms (that never stopped holding him) keep him upright, and his voice booms. "As you know, he collapsed in the kitchen just now. I require assistance."

Rogers feels his face burn with shame. Always intensely private, never one to willingly attract an audience, Steve now finds himself the center of all his comrades' attention. The sound of what can only be a heart on the monitor beats faster and faster.

thump thump thump thump

Natasha leans at his side, emphatic. "Steve!"

Banner looms in front of his face. But how did he get there so quickly?

"His hand is bleeding again. And his neck…"

thump thump thump thump

Rogers swats at the wound below his jaw, clawing at it, but Natasha's hands grab his, holding them firmly. Cap doesn't want to get his blood all over her and resists.

"Calm down, Steve," Bruce says evenly.

"Is that… my heart beat?" Cap's voice is a ghost.

thumpthumpthumpthumpthump

"Bruce—his vitals!"

"Steve," floats Romanoff's voice through the frantic shuffling of bodies and words and the infernal drum pounding in his ears. In that moment, he focuses on Nat's face and soft red hair.

"Steve, just breathe. Just breathe."

So he does. The rest of the world melts away.

8:21 A.M. Awakening.

Steve's legs might buckle, but there is a room full of Avengers who won't let him fall. Natasha presses hands against his shoulders because she's closest to him. Even if she can't hold him, Thor's strong arms brace him seconds later. Barton shouts, muffled by Tony's curt commands. By the time Nat and Thor have him seated with his head between his knees, Steve can almost make out what they're saying.

"It's the blue button, not the white one."

"I thought you said, 'the white one.'"

"Honestly, birdman, I'm not sure when you learned how to read, because the button you want is clearly labeled O-F-F."

And despite the loud bickering above the crescendoing drumbeat, Rogers focuses on Bruce's calm and soft smile in front of him.

"Breathe," Banner repeats Nat's words.

Romanoff purrs, "It's okay, Steve."

The clockwork thump abruptly ends, and Tony slow-claps, which Barton takes as his cue to start bickering with the inventor again.

Bruce inhales slowly, audibly, causing Steve to mirror him without thinking. One green glare from the team's doctor silences Barton and Stark. And then Steve can breathe, and the corners of his vision aren't darkening.

"Hey- you with us, big guy?" Bruce catches his attention with a warm smile that almost hides the panic in his eyes.

Cap swallows. His voice comes out weaker than he'd like, punctuated with shaky breaths. "Thought… you were… the big guy."

Bruce just nods and gets up swiftly, eyeing Thor and Nat to take his place as he returns to the monitors. Flanked by the two Avengers, Rogers suddenly, desperately, wants to go back to his quarters. Even with all the fractured memories attached to that place, it's the only corner of the tower where he can be alone. His face burns with shame again when he realizes Barton and Stark are watching him, as if they want to see what happens next, as if they suspect him.

"Not sure what came over me… Mus' be real tired. Gonna head back to my room and—"

Thor's hands on his shoulders barely touch him, but he's weak enough to sit back down hard.

Steve huffs tiredly. "Was worth a try…"

"Your vitals are bad, Steve," Bruce says steadily. "It's as if the serum isn't working anymore. If you know something, you need to tell us."

Rogers holds his breath and lets it out. "Nothing's going on."

"Steve…"

His name coming from Thor's lips again sounds just as strange as the first time he heard it.

"You left your sketchbook on the roof, and I looked inside…"

Thor produces the book and places it on the floor in front of Rogers' feet. As if on cue, the air conditioning turns on unexpectedly, blasting frigid air onto Steve's shoulders and turning the pages of the book one at a time, like invisible fingers. Rogers can't look away as the sketches of Nat and Thor, flowers and the Manhattan skyline, dissolve into gargoyles and sewer rats, demon eyes and headless dolls. It is nothing short of a descent into madness.

He doubts Thor smacking him over the head with Mjolnir would have shaken him more than he feels now.

Steve remembers.

Tony swears loudly and goes to a monitor, shouting at JARVIS to turn off the A/C. Within the new chaos, Steve breaks at last, and only Nat is close enough to hear him.

"I'll tell you everything."

8:27 A.M. Confession.

Steve starts at the beginning and doesn't leave anything out. There is the meeting with the two strangers and Domini Wallachia's haunting eyes. Renfield's bite and zealous devotion. Natasha being threatened. Doing what he had to do to protect her. The nightly visitations, hallucinations, wounds that never healed. Lost memories come back to him in the re-telling— the truth of what happened to his shield.

By the time he's finished, the air conditioning has stopped, but Steve is shaking all over.

Barton brings him a blanket that Nat drapes over his shoulders. Steve has no idea where the archer got it and wouldn't be surprised if Tony hadn't washed it in a couple years. It isn't very warm, but it covers his trembling limbs nevertheless.

Tony sums up the entire team's reaction: "Well. Damn."

Banner goes to Steve, head tilted. He's intrigued and terrified at the same time. "You've met this creature before. Who is he?"

Rogers' mind reels. He's back in 1944, and the stench of bodies in piles cannot mask the smell of evil that permeates their corner of Transylvania. Bodies as pale as the blank pages in Steve's sketchbook, puncture wounds in their necks, drained of blood.

Cap opens his eyes and whispers, "Dracula."

There's a beat, and Stark's swearing gets biblical, but Steve doesn't have the energy to correct his language. More voices all talk at once, like ravens calling to one another.

Barton snorts. "Was he accompanied by a dude wrapped in toilet paper or a guy with bolts sticking out of his neck?"

"Clint!" Natasha says sharply.

"Who is this 'Dracula,' the Captain speaks of?" Thor, of course.

Bruce's sad eyes blink, as if he doesn't want to say out loud what all of them are thinking—that good ole Captain America is a few apple pies short of a bake sale. At this point, Rogers doesn't blame them. Would he believe a story like that if one of them told it? Steve isn't really sure he believes it all himself; the memories he has of the past few days are unstable, smeary as water colors.

"Steve, Bram Stoker wrote about Dracula in the 1800s. He's a fictional character."

And that's when Tony Stark stirs and coughs and puts his head in his hands after quietly saying: "I hate to break up the 'Cap is Bonkers' theory, kiddies. But… Dracula's real."

Everyone turns to Stark, a collective eyeballing.

"That's not very funny," Nat says, her hands soothing Steve's shoulders.

"I wish I was joking. I really do. But… Dad wrote about vampires he encountered in Europe during World War Two. As if there wasn't enough crap going on there at the time, apparently Dracula was allied with the Nazis too."

Tony twirls his fingers, and projected images pop into the air above consoles all around them. There are black and white photographs of puncture wounds on flesh, anatomical diagrams, and field notes in a barely legible scrawl.

Blood. Possession. Infestation.

"I don't believe it," Banner murmurs, eyes wide. Meanwhile, Barton's mouth hangs open, jaw slack.

"Then it's true," Natasha says, her back to Rogers as she brushes a hand across the projected images. They flicker with her touch, and although it is barely perceptible, Steve notices her shudder. "They hypnotized me so I wouldn't remember how they came into my room and…"

Cap gets to his feet despite his weakness and goes to Romanoff. "I'm so sorry." He gives her space when she avoids his gaze, Steve feels like a fist with sharp nails is squeezing his heart.

"We all might have been compromised," Barton says.

"And JARVIS too," Thor adds.

"Pepper…" Stark shifts from his reverie. "Jesus- I have no idea where she is." He scrambles to the door, but not before stopping at Cap's side.

"Dad said in his notes that you killed all the vampires. You killed Dracula."

Steve sways in place and swallows. "Guess he came back."

Then Stark is gone, Thor trailing him in case he needs help.

"So, any idea how we stop these bastards?" Clint asks, examining the documents Bruce is looking at. "I mean, aside from a wooden steak."

Cap suddenly remembers a person who had recently taken up residence in Banner's lab—one who is now conspicuously absent.

"Examine Renfield," he says. "Question him. I know he doesn't make much sense but…" Cap doesn't feel like adding that the guy makes his skin crawl. "Where is he?" Rogers glances around the lab, the Hulk tank empty. Gone are the stains on the glass, the scrawl of jittery letters written in blood.

Banner sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he's barely holding back a migraine. "You were on your run when I found the tank empty. No trace of a break-in, but there was..." Banner cringes.

"Let's just say it was messy," Nat finishes for the doctor.

Bruce swallows and nods. "I'm not sure if he's even alive based on the amount of…"

"The cleaning crew wasn't happy," Barton chimes in too. "I think Tony promised them all Christmas bonuses a couple months early."

"Then they got him," Steve mumbles.

Banner continues sorting through Tony's files. "With JARVIS going haywire, and me busy distracting you, it seems a plausible explanation. Surveillance was conveniently not working during the time frame when Renfield disappeared."

Working beside Bruce, Barton sucks in air between his teeth.

"I found some missing surveillance."

Steve leaves the blanket behind and goes to the screen, his limbs stiff but supporting him. Natasha follows, close behind. Cap is expecting to see Renfield's final moments- something so animalistic and gory that he'll have to turn away. What he actually sees is worse.

A black and white high angle shot of Natasha, sitting upright in a bed. Her slip glimmers in the moonlight, one strap falling over her shoulder, a detail that would be normal for any other person. For the Black Widow, it screams vulnerability. A figure sits beside her on the bed. The form is indistinguishable; it could be a man or merely a shadow. One blurry claw reaches up to her face, and her glazed eyes close. Then Natasha's head tilts, her entire body leaning into the dark mass beside her. As the looming figure turns slowly, eyes reveal themselves as twin sparks of light. They stare calmly up at the camera, and something twists and bends beneath the glowing eyes. The creature smiles.

Cap looks away, his stomach roiling, sick. He's already seen this footage; he doesn't need to see any more.

Before Bruce or Clint have a chance to speak, Nat flicks the screen off with a wave of her hand.

When Rogers looks up, her expression is unreadable.

"Nat—" He starts to put a hand on her shoulder, but she is already walking to the door.

"I should find Tony and help him patch up Jarvis." And she is gone.

With her absence, Rogers feels a weight pulling him downward. He staggers to the Hulk tank and peers into its darkness, his back to the two other men.

"It's my fault," he says. "I thought I killed Dracula in the war. Now he wants revenge. And he doesn't care who gets in his way to get to me."

Barton steps toward him. "Cap-don't blame yourself. If Tony's dad's notes are legit, this vampire weirdo has more regenerative capabilities than I've ever seen in a life form before. You just happen to have been his nemesis and have the best blood. You're too tempting a snack." Hawkeye tries to give Rogers a reassuring smile, but it comes out like a grimace.

"That's it," Banner's eyes widen. "Steve, he's using your blood to revitalize his system, to not only make himself stronger, but to add you to his…"

"Collection," Steve practically spits. "Like Renfield."

"So he'll have Steve's super soldier blood and be in control of Steve?" Clint shakes his head.

Steve puts a hand to his forehead to wipe away cold sweat. When did he start shivering again? He doesn't remember and can't stop his legs from failing him.

Bruce and Clint converge on Steve, propping him up. Rogers is almost too exhausted to feel embarrassed at his weakness or his team mates' worry and attention. Almost.

"'M fine," he mumbles, a rote response.

"You need to sleep," Clint responds, as if it's painfully obvious, and Steve supposes it is. "When was the last time you gave yourself permission to relax? And don't tell me it was on the run this morning. You looked like you were running from the devil himself."

I thought I was…

Clint is dead serious, and it's the archer's no-nonsense demeanor, a rare thing to witness, that finally makes Steve relent, sagging against the two men.

Banner ushers them to a medical table that is surprisingly soft and comfortable for how thin its mattress must be. Steve sinks into it with a small sigh.

"I need to do some tests on you, Cap," Bruce explains. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative."

Steve shakes his head.. "It won't work…" he begins, starting to get up from the bed, but then Hawkeye's hand is on his chest, pushing him down, and Rogers knows that he told a lie. If Tony Stark could take him down in a boxing match, drugs would probably work in his system. "Anything I can do to help…"

Bruce nods and prepares the IV. Clint remains at his side, never wavering.

"Just think of a nice sunny beach," Barton says, "or a quiet, dark movie theater. Whatever your thing is. And try to relax."

"But what about Tony and the rest of the team?" Cap starts to get up again. He's their leader. Well, one leader. He can't afford to take a few hours off.

"Stark's gonna be just fine. He's got Thor. And Nat."

Steve tries to even his breathing and quiet his thoughts as the strange, sweet aftertaste of the IV line dances on his tongue.

"I am. We are."

Just as a touch of drowsiness settles into his bones, Steve sees a wisp of smoke near the door of the lab. At first, he thinks it's a trick of the light. But the smoke continues pouring through the door, dark grey and spreading out along the perimeter of the vast room.

"Fire...there," Steve mumbles. It's maddening, but he can't seem to form multiple syllables, as if his tongue is unable to catch up with his brain. The sedative. Rogers struggles against it, but his vision begins to blur as well.

Barton must catch the panic in his expression because he turns around, examining the door. "What is it, Cap? I don't see anything."

Rogers feels his pulse gallop despite the drugs pulling him under. He watches in horror as the dark smoke morphs into dozens of figures, long-clawed, with glowing red eyes and sharp teeth. The shadows lurk along the perimeter, flitting in and out of his vision, but their attention seems fixed on him. Hungry. Waiting.

They are legion.

"Vam...vampires," Steve struggles to get out through a tongue that feels wrapped in wool. The cool rush of drugs is impossible to fight anymore. He thrashes in his bed, causing Bruce and Clint to hold him down.

The shadows are still there.

"Easy, buddy," Clint says. "There's nothing here. You're safe. It's all right. It's all right."

But it's so plainly not all right that Steve attempts to pull out the IV in his right arm. To his continued horror, his left arm only gets as far as his chest before Banner presses it firmly back at his side.

But the shadows are still there.

They are calling to him, their whispered-gravel voices sing: "Join us."

"What's wrong with him?" Clint shouts at Banner, trying his best to suppress Steve's writhing figure.

"Hallucination!" Banner shouts back as he grabs a syringe.

But it's not a hallucination. The shadows are there, and they are circling the lab. Steve's warnings come out in quiet moans until his body is too tired to fight it any longer. Banner plunges another dose of sedative into his IV line, and Rogers goes silent and limp, using every ounce of strength he has left to keep his eyes open, fixed on the unseen creatures that he can somehow see.

"Join us."

"Steve-It's okay, it's okay." Barton's voice has taken on a different tone, one that he must reserve for animals and children and hurt super soldiers. "He's still awake, doc."

"He won't be for long."

Then the vampires dissolve into pure darkness, blanketing the floor in a thick mist that glides toward him.

The darkness grabs his eyelids and pulls them down.

TBC

A/N: How is everyone doing? Sorry for the lack of excitement in this chapter. There was a lot more exposition than I wanted, but it kinda needed to happen. Should get back to more action in the next chapter. And, bonus-you get stuck with a tiny cliffhanger! I hope everyone is well and staying safe.

~Ista