"Let me see them and I'll consider it," Phil rasps.

"Agent Coulson, in case you haven't noticed, you are in no position to be making demands," Jimmy the Weasel points out.

"All you have offered me so far in the way of proof that you actually have them in your possession is grainy security footage on a tablet," Phil retorts. He pauses, taking a calming breath through his nose and slowly blowing it out. "I've been doing this a long time. You're trying to elicit an emotional response from me and I can guarantee you that it's not going to work if I'm not even sure they're actually in your possession."

"You would gamble their lives on the chance that I'm bluffing?" Jimmy the Weasel asks.

"I'm not going to gamble mine on the chance that you're not," Phil answers.

There are a few moments of silence as his captor mulls the idea over. All he can hear is the sound of his own breathing and the sound of blood dripping from the table he's strapped to and onto the floor. If he's being honest, he's glad for the reprieve. He can hold his own in situations like this, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain. And right now, he's feeling plenty of it.

"I suppose a brief interlude is in order," Jimmy the Weasel concludes, motioning for someone that Phil can't see. "It wouldn't do to have you lose consciousness. You could hardly answer my questions that way, could you?"

Phil hears the sound of the straps holding him down being loosened. He knows it will hurt when they move him, but he isn't prepared for when he's grabbed by the arms and roughly pulled upward. A strangled noise of pain is ripped out of him as every nerve ending on his back lights up in pain. He hangs his head as his vision greys and is overcome by spots. He can feel his feet scraping the floor as they drag him away, but it's a peripheral sensation.

His face meeting concrete is a rough, if efficient, method of bringing him back to his senses. As he lifts his head from the floor, he hears the door being locked behind him and catches sight of Pepper and Happy lying bound, gagged and unconscious in the corner. He feels a sharp stab of worry that drives him to raise himself from the floor. Moans of pain are smothered behind tightly sealed lips as he pulls himself up enough to begin to crawl towards them.

Every movement incurs another flash of pain that shoots like lightning up his spine and to each and every nerve ending in his body. His stomach turns as his head swims and his vision fills with bright spots, but he pushes past the sensations in his determination to drag himself over to Pepper and Happy. He's had worse. He can deal with this. There are more important matters to see to right now.

Still, even as he reminds himself of these things, he finds himself on the verge of collapse by the time he reaches Happy. Laden with the added weight of his bond with Steve, he finds himself struggling to remain conscious as he fumbles with the restraints binding Happy's hands and feet. His hands feel disconnected from his body as his clumsy, uncoordinated movements gradually begin to lessen the ropes, all while spots loom in his vision.

What should have only taken him mere moments instead takes minutes upon minutes. When he at last tugs the ropes away, he allows his eyes to slide shut as he sighs in relief.

This is a mistake.

Sneaking out in a Quin turned out to be even easier than Steve could have hoped. He'd known Jasper was a smooth talker, but watching him walk verbal circles around anyone in their path had made Steve rethink that. He wasn't just a smooth talker, Jasper Sitwell had a goddamn silver tongue.

"I can't believe you actually talked your way out of that," Bruce says, once they're in the air.

"Let's be honest: who could say 'no' to a face like this?" Jasper says, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.

"Maria Hill," Steve and Bruce chorus.

"Aren't you two funny?" Jasper snorts. "Alright, which way we headed, Cap?"

"I'm not sure. Start at the exhibit and head northeast from there. I'm not positive that's the direction they took him in, but that's the last way I know he was headed," Steve says, rubbing his temples. "I'll tell you if I start to feel anything, but that's about as good as I can do right now."

"Good enough," Jasper says, adjusting their course accordingly.

Steve inhales slowly and closes his eyes as he leans back in his seat. He doesn't know whether or not concentrating will bring him clarity, but it's about as much as he can do right now. If he's being honest, he's not even that sure what he's looking for. It's difficult separating his own emotions from Phil's; how much of the anxiety he's feeling is his own and how much is Phil's? Being closer to one another alleviates the strange symptoms that distance produces, but how close do they have to be for that to happen?

The idea that his own worries might be preventing him from getting a solid read weighs heavily on his mind. Right now, he's the only one with any sort of way to go about finding the agent. Everyone is depending on him. Phil is depending on him. He can't afford to do anything other than absolutely everything in his power to make sure he brings Phil home safely.

They still need to talk. It weighs heavily on his mind that Phil had confessed to having feelings for him just minutes before he'd been abducted. The idea of losing him, of never getting the chance to finish that conversation, makes his chest feel tight to the point of making it hard to breathe.

"You alright?"

Bruce's soft voice brings him out of his thoughts—something he finds himself thankful for.

"Fine," Steve lies, inclining his head in a slight nod. "Just trying to concentrate."

"You might do better to relax," Bruce advises him.

Steve huffs a quick laugh at that. "He's in danger and we have no idea where he is. Relaxing's not on the agenda."

"I understand that," Bruce says. "What I mean is that you're wound so tight that I think there's a chance it might be interfering with your perception. Maybe concentrating isn't the right option and you should try and let the feelings come to you. You've never consciously reached out across your bond, have you?"

"Well, no, but I thought it might be better to try," Steve admits. "I don't like hoping that something will happen. I like to think I'm a pretty patient guy but this isn't a situation where I feel comfortable waiting."

"Alright, let's be productive then," Bruce says. "When was the last time you two were together?"

"We stopped about halfway through the exhibit to talk. The place started shaking, we heard explosions and it was clear the building was being attacked. I stayed to hold them off while Phil lead the civilians out the northeast exit," Steve relates back, trying to make sure he hasn't missed any details which might be important.

"And what'd you talk about?" Bruce asks.

"It's not relevant," Steve replies.

"Are you positive? Nothing he might have said that could help?" Bruce presses.

"No," Steve says. "We were having a private conversation, nothing was said that could help us in any way."

Jasper makes a soft noise from the pilot's seat, as though he's just discovered something. Steve and Bruce both hear it, but only Steve has an inkling as to why. Clint and Natasha had said to go to Jasper about Phil, hadn't they? The two of them are close friends; close enough that Phil might divulge certain information that he might not to others. The idea that he might have discussed his feelings with Jasper seems entirely reasonable.

"Something you'd like to share?" Bruce asks mildly.

"Not my place," Jasper says. "If Cap says it's not going to help us, then I'd take his word for it."

"Ah," Bruce says, the light of discovery in his eyes. "I think I understand."

Suddenly Steve has the sneaking suspicion that Jasper isn't the only one in the Quinjet who knows what they'd been talking about.

"Well, anyway, I can't say that I can think of anything—"

Steve finds his sentence cut off as he feels a sudden crack of pain across his back and he can't help but cry out in surprise. He blinks slowly, holding himself stiffly as his back throbs in the wake of the event and waiting for he knew not what.

"You okay back there?" Jasper asks, glancing back at him.

"Yeah," Steve says, waving off Bruce who had risen from his seat. "I think they're at it again."

"Are you feeling anything else?" Bruce asks.

"I'm not sure yet," Steve admits. "I think I need a minute to just… wait for something."

The Quin goes quiet just in time for the next flash of pain to strike him. He grips the armrests of his seat as another quickly follows and another and another. It doesn't take him long to guess what the source of the pain is and as he struggles to keep himself as quiet as possible, he wonders how Phil is managing this. He wonders if there will be worse to come. Nick had been right in that they had picked the wrong agent if they were looking for information, but while that might be good news for them, it's most certainly not good news for Phil.

By the time the sharp cracks of pain cease, he finds himself dizzy and out of breath, his back screaming in protest to whatever treatment Phil had gotten. But in the wake of the agent's pain comes something else: that now familiar tugging sensation in his gut.

"Go east," Steve says breathlessly. "I need you to go east, that's where he is."

"On it," Jasper says, making the course correction without question. "Hang tight."

"Steve, how are you doing?" Bruce asks, coming to kneel beside him.

Steve shakes his head, his eyes shut tight as he fights back a wave of nausea. "I think we need to hurry this up. They're not… They're not playing around here."

He hears Bruce talking to him, but he's having trouble making out the words. Knowing what's about to come, it's all he can do to keep himself upright. Even that doesn't work as he slumps forward, the sensation of Bruce arms around him the last thing he feels before he passes out.

When Steve wakes up, he's not in the Quin. He's not with Bruce and Jasper, either. In fact, he doesn't seem to be near anyone or anything. All he can see around him is darkness—an endlessly dark sky—and rolling fog, leading him to believe he's not as awake as he thought he was. But this doesn't feel like a memory. With a sudden jolt of understanding he starts searching around him, looking for evidence that he's not alone.

"Phil!" he calls out.

He wades through the fog, encountering nothing but more and more of the oppressive darkness surrounding him. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, some part of him just knows Phil is here with him, somewhere.

"Phil! Are you there?" he cries out again. "Phil!"

"Steve?"

He stops dead in his tracks, his head whipping in the direction of the agent's voice. Not losing a moment to hesitation, he takes off, knowing that either of them could wake up without a moment's notice and that he can't miss this opportunity. He's so intent on getting to the agent that he nearly plows into the shorter man when he suddenly appears out of the fog in front of him. Throwing his arms out to stop himself, he grips the agent's arms tightly.

"You're here," Steve says, hearing the relief in his own voice. "Are you alright?"

"Never mind that right now," Phil says, ignoring the question. "They have Pepper and Happy."

"They… what? When?" Steve asks.

"I don't know," Phil sighs, aggravation coloring his words. "I'm not sure when or how they got them, only that they did. They just brought me to the cell where they're being kept. I was in the middle of trying to untie them when I lost consciousness."

Steve curses quietly, his mind working quickly to factor in this new development.

"Is there anything you can tell me that might help us figure out where you are?" Steve asks. "Right now our best lead is to use me as a compass."

"I was unconscious when they took me," Phil says. "There aren't any outside noises to pinpoint a location, but the smell is damp, salty… so I think we're underground, somewhere near water. It's dilapidated, most likely abandoned. I think… it may be an old military fort, but don't quote me on that. They've brought their own equipment in, so they've been squatting her for at least a couple of days…"

Steve watches the agent's brow furrow in concentration, but he fails to come up with any further details.

"How are you holding up?" Steve asks instead.

"I'm fine," Phil says quickly.

There's a moment where Steve can practically see the gears turning in the agent's head, as though reconsidering his own lie. Phil's expression softens marginally as he meets Steve's eye.

"How much kickback are you experiencing?" he asks.

For a moment, Steve finds himself tempted to do just what Phil had done: lie in some attempt to protect him. But with how much they're sharing, he knows it's pointless to try and hide it. Phil knows the answer to the question he's posed just as sure as Steve had.

"Enough," Steve says simply. He reaches out, resting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Phil, I need you to be honest with me: are you okay?"

"I can manage," Phil answers, scrubbing a hand across his face. "Although, I've been treating this abduction as I would any other and that's not the case is it? I've goaded my captors into lashing out at me without even thinking that it would be coming back to you, too. I've been careless."

"I'm not going to say it's been fun, but I can take it," Steve assures him. "I'm not the one it's actually happening to."

He eyes the shorter man meaningfully and is rewarded with an unimpressed stare. Not that he had expected anything less. Phil is stubborn at the best of times and protective of all of them to his very core, so he knows this isn't sitting well with the agent.

"Regardless, I'm going to be more careful with my actions when I wake up," Phil says. "You and I aren't the only lives riding on this anymore."

"Right," Steve says, blowing out a harsh breath with the word. "Try to hang in there. We're doing everything we can to find you, it's only a matter of time."

"I don't doubt it," Phil says.

Steve knows he doesn't and likely never did. He knows Phil is entirely confident that they'll be found in time. Not for the first time, Steve finds strength in the other man's faith and resolve in his unwavering trust. Standing together beneath a sky without stars, he remembers the conversation cut short by this whole fiasco and feels the need to address it.

"About what you said at the exhibit—"

"Not here," Phil says hurriedly. "This isn't the time."

Phil steps back; not far, but just enough so that Steve is forced to withdraw his hand. He can feel the retreat as much as he can see it, can sense the other man pulling away from him as though someone is tugging an invisible line moored in the pit of his stomach.

"I just don't feel comfortable leaving it hanging in the air the way we did," Steve says, stepping forward.

"What, in case we don't make it?" Phil asks with a lopsided smile.

"Phil," Steve sighs, shaking his head.

"I know. I'm sorry," Phil says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd just rather not do this now. Please."

"It's not the best time, I know," Steve admits.

He's not going to push Phil to talk if he doesn't want to, but he wishes the agent would reconsider. As clearly as Phil's physical pain has come to him, so too have his emotional pains. Steve doesn't take his confession lightly and he knows leaving it unanswered is bringing Phil no shortage of unrest. What Phil doesn't understand is that it's for this very reason that Steve wishes to resume their discussion as soon as possible.

Phil had admitted his feelings purely out of a need to make sure Steve wouldn't feel uncomfortable, all the while never considering that Steve might return them. Steve feels every ounce of shame and humiliation that occupies Phil's consciousness and it's all he can do to stop himself from grabbing the shorter man by the lapels and doing something he knows won't help their situation one bit.

"But I want to talk about this. Later, after we've found you," Steve tells him. "Because there are some things you need to hear and some things I think both of us need to say."

Phil nods his head in agreement, but won't say anything more. At first Steve believes he's pushed the other man into silence, but as the seconds tick by, he feels it: it's time to say goodbye. He rails against the pull, unsure of which of them is waking and wanting to stay here, in this moment, for as long as possible. He doesn't mean to startle Phil, but the compulsion to hold onto him as long as he can leads Steve to quite literally hold onto him as he reaches for Phil's hand.

"We're coming for you," Steve assures him, squeezing the agent's hand for emphasis. "I promise."

"I know," Phil answers with a smile. "In the meantime I'll try not to send too much your way."

Steve shakes his head. "Just focus on yourself, Pepper and Happy. I'll be fine."

"I'll see what else I can pick up. I've only seen a limited amount of wherever they're holding us, but hopefully when they take me again I can get a better look—"

As Phil talks, his voice grows fainter and fainter. While this is happening, Steve can only watch as the agent's form begins to grow opaque until he's nothing more than a whisper and a ghost. Eventually he's left with even less than that as darkness and silence swallow him whole. But curiously, the feeling of Phil's hand in his never fades, and even as he's drawn towards the waking world he doesn't let go.

It still hurts when Phil wakes up, but less so than he'd been expecting. He can feel the cold, hard cement beneath him but his head and part of his upper body is pillowed on something warm, soft and decidedly human. Groggy and aching, Phil attempts to pull himself up from the floor, only to find his progress halted by a hand placed on the back of his head.

"I wouldn't try it," Pepper says. "Your back is in pretty bad shape."

Phil gives up then and there, finding wisdom in her words and in the lancing pain cutting through him with even those simple movements. If he and Pepper weren't such good friends, he might have felt guilty for practically lying in her lap, but as it stood he was having a hard time moving and she didn't seem in any great hurry to have him leave.

"Pepper," he sighs. "Are you alright?"

"A little bruised, a little groggy and somehow not surprised to find myself here, but otherwise alright," Pepper assures him, her fingers brushing through his hair. "But I think I should be the one asking you that question."

"I'm fine," Phil says, his eyes slipping shut.

"We've talked about you lying to me," Pepper says.

"Mm," Phil hums in response, as he's slowly lulled back into drowsiness. "Where's Happy?"

The fact that Pepper merely shushes him quietly, as though hoping he might fall asleep before she has to answer, tells him he won't be happy when he finds out.

"Did they take him?" he asks.

"Yes," Pepper says, sounding as though she's not particularly happy that she has to say it.

"How long ago?"

"I think it may have been around an hour."

"I'm sorry," Phil says, nauseous at the thought of Happy being tortured in his place. "Neither of you should have been dragged into this."

"Phil, Happy and I have been with Tony for years," Pepper reminds him. "I hate to say we're used to it, but the facts kind of speak for themselves."

She can sound as carefree as she likes, but Phil knows she's scared. He knows she's scared for Happy, for herself, for him. The fact that they've been involved in this grates on him—it's so much easier to hold up to torture when he's the only one being tortured. But this is as far as it goes. That it had gone this far is unacceptable as it is.

Spinning convincing lies has never been a problem for him (as his poor mother would attest to). He was just hoping to buy himself some more time before he had to. Because any claims he makes can be looked into and eventually those claims will be found to be false and if their captors reach that conclusion before they're found, well… he'd rather it not come to that. The question now is how long he can safely stall without endangering Pepper or Happy any further.

It's while he's mulling this over that a loud, rusty screech announces the opening of their cell door. The fact that he can hear Happy talking is a good sign, but as the man is shoved into the room with them and the door slammed behind him, Phil's able to get a good look at him. He knows this has been done to rile him up and that allowing it to anger him will be playing right into their hands, but the tight ball of rage buried inside him burns hot and bright at the sight of Happy's bruised face.

"Oh, Happy," Pepper says sympathetically, motioning him over to her.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Happy says, hiding a grimace as he props himself up against the wall.

"You shouldn't have done that," Phil says.

"Right, next time I'll just hand Ms. Potts or the unconscious S.H.I.E.L.D. agent over to them instead," Happy snorts. "Get outta here."

"The next time you have to let them take me," Phil replies.

This raises immediate protest from Pepper and Happy, but Phil hadn't expected it to go over smoothly. It takes some doing to cut through their voices, but eventually he manages to get enough silence to explain himself.

"You have to understand, I've done this before," Phil explains. "I have a plan on how to proceed and you need to let me handle it. Believe me, I appreciate what both of you have done, but the best shot we have at the three of us making it out of here is letting me take it from here."

"We're not just going to sit here and let them haul you off to do god knows what," Pepper protests. "If we take turns between the three of us—"

"No," Phil and Happy say together.

"We'll take turns between the two of us, if anything," Happy says, motioning to himself and Phil.

"No. We won't," Phil says with a glare. "You two will stay here and let me do my job."

"No offense, but you don't look like you're in any shape to go another round with these guys," Happy points out. "They laid into me pretty good, but they don't look like they were messing around with you. Your back looks like a cat's scratchpost."

Phil knows that their wish to protect him is coming from a good place and truly, he doesn't doubt their mettle in situations such as these, but this isn't an issue of pride. His insistence that he be allowed to handle this alone has nothing to do with being unwilling to accept their help. It's simply the fact that, given their options, the safest way to see them through this is for him to navigate the problem himself. Of course, convincing Pepper and Happy to allow him to be hauled off and tortured will be no easy task. This is, of course, assuming that they get any choice in the matter.

"I promise this has nothing to do with stubbornness," Phil assures them.

Pepper makes a soft noise of disagreement and he sighs in defeat.

"Alright, yes, some of it is about being stubborn," Phil amends. "But please understand that I have experience in these matters that neither of you do. I know how best to handle the situation. I'm not attempting to take one for the team or make the sacrifice play—I'm just telling you that this is the best way for all of us to make it out of here."

"I'm not comfortable with the idea of letting them take you," Pepper tells him.

"You don't have to be comfortable with it," Phil says. "I just need you to trust me. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then trust that I know what I'm doing," Phil tells her.

"You're asking us to sit here and twiddle our thumbs," Happy says, sounding distinctly displeased with the idea. "Listen, just play dead when they come by again and let me go for another round. It'll buy us some time."

Phil manages to stop himself from sighing again. He doesn't have the energy to keep up this argument and, somewhat guiltily, he takes solace in the fact that when their captors come again, Happy and Pepper's wishes will have very little bearing in the matter. Not that he plans on letting them know that. For now the three of them will quietly plan and hope that Steve and the others will arrive before their captors come calling once more.