Loki opened his eyes to perhaps the most terrifying sight he had ever seen. His brother and all the rest of the Avengers loomed over him, one pointing an arrow less than six inches from his nose, and all with the darkest looks of utmost contempt he had ever seen. He put up no resistance as he was bound tightly and tossed unceremoniously on the nearest couch - he'd seen what this team could do and he no longer wanted any part of it at all. In fact, he was completely willing to lie complacently while his captors began to celebrate raucously with Tony's proficient supply of food and beverages which had miraculously survived the battle essentially unscathed. All but one, that is, a fact which Loki saw no reason to share.

Hawkeye, otherwise known as Clint Barton, was enjoying the festivities until he realized someone was missing. His visual senses heightened far beyond normal as he'd learned to compensate for his poor hearing, he noticed out of the corner of his eye Captain America staring out the window at his beloved city.

Slipping away unnoticed, Clint moved up beside Steve, mildly surprised the other man didn't notice given how alert he'd been during the battle. Then it clicked. "She'll be okay, Steve - she's tough," he murmured gently.

Steve, snapped around, startled, but relaxed to see his good friend's hands spread in a gesture of peace. He sighed softly. "I know, Clint, but she's my city! I know this was to defend her and the rest of the world, but it breaks my heart that I had to hurt her to do it."

Clint hesitated for an instant before resting a hand lightly on the other's shoulder. "You did what you had to do, Steve, and we both know there was no other choice."

"Yeah," Steve conceded after a long moment's pause. "But you better believe I'll be right here to help her heal."

Clint chuckled softly. "I'd be disappointed and shocked if you did any less. But you'd better believe I'll be right there alongside you, friend, `cause superhero or not, even you can't put the whole city back together by yourself!" Clint suddenly wondered if he'd pushed too far - the Captain was a very private man and might not like the insinuation that he couldn't handle it on his own, not to mention that this was coming from a man he'd known less than a day.

To his great relief, however, the Captain's lips parted in that warm, genuine smile of his. Something about the quiet man beside him reminded him of his best friend Bucky, who had died saving Steve's life in the war. In this strange and lonely new world he'd found himself thrust into, Steve realized just how much he'd come to rely on Clint in just a few hours, trusting him to watch his back and relying on him to help with tactical decisions. Never one to make friendships quickly, he'd silently asked Natasha only a few hours before if Hawkeye was trustworthy again, but he hadn't needed to. The instant their eyes had met he'd known full well he could put his life in this man's hands today or any other day. They'd shared a tiny quirk of a smile in greeting and he'd finally felt the old, aching wound beginning to heal slightly, and now the man's gentle words of encouragement and friendship built a trust in his heart that he had not felt in far too long. "Thanks, friend," he murmured softly, the words catching on an odd lump in his throat that he refused to admit was emotion.

Then, to his utter amazement, the world began to spin dizzily while the sirens below and laughter behind blurred into a buzzing. He hadn't felt this way since his transformation, and he was barely even aware of the fact that Clint's hand had gone from lightly resting on his shoulder to gripping it hard.

"Steve?" Clint called anxiously. In the space of about thirty seconds, Steve's face had gone from a ruddy, healthy tan to a sickly white. Steve shook his head to try to clear it but that only made his knees buckle and he would have gone down had it not been for Clint's hands going around his waist. "Steve? Cap, what's wrong?" Clint demanded, his voice taut with anxiety.

Feeling himself sagging more and more into Clint, Steve panted heavily, "Dunno...can't...can't breathe...Clint!"

Then the Captain collapsed completely while coughing tightly, falling heavily into the archer, head coming to rest on Clint's chest, and felt himself lowered carefully to the ground. "Easy, take it easy, Cap," Clint soothed, heart pounding with worry. Usually completely aloof with any aside from Natasha and Phil, who had died so violently earlier in the day, he found strength in the Captain just as the Captain found it in him. He'd needed a best friend his entire life and he'd known the minute the Captain had told him to suit up that he'd found one, only to see that same friend literally fade before his eyes. Glancing up for half a second, he yelled, "Stark! Somethin's wrong with Cap! Get the med kit!"

In an instant, the rest of the Avengers were hovering over them, Tony with the med kit in hand. Steve was clinging to consciousness by a thread, and if he was aware of the others he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he shocked himself by grabbing for Clint's hand. Instantly, the archer gripped it, just as Bucky had when Steve was a terrified little boy that Bucky had found wandering the streets alone and taken him under his wing. "Clint...stay?" he pleaded brokenly, caught somewhere between the present and the past, images of Bucky and him over the years slamming together and making his head swim dizzily.

"`course I'll stay, Cap. `sides, we gotta put New York back together, `member?" he teased softly.

The only response he received was a faint pressure on his hand and the tiniest of smiles, and then Steve's eyes rolled back in his head and he blacked out. Tony instantly demanded, "What happened? What's wrong with him?"

Clint shook his head shortly before gently extricating his hand from the Captain's grip and beginning to carefully examine him. To his horror, he discovered a deep cut in Steve's right bicep that still trickled blood. Far worse, however, and partially hidden by the color of his uniform, was a horrific burn and deep, bloody gash across the soldier's lower left side and abdomen. "What in the world?" Clint demanded, horrified. He heard gasps from everyone else as well. Sure, they'd all come out of the battle with cuts and bruises, particularly Tony, who'd taken a mighty plunge and even stopped breathing for a few seconds, but somehow they all believed that the super-soldier was immune to such injury. Maybe it was the fact that instead of carrying a weapon like the rest, he carried a shield, and his preferred message was peace, despite the fact that he'd fight to the death for something he believed in.

Thor spoke up suddenly. "The soldier was struck by one of those blue guns when he was fighting three others. He doubled over and collapsed as soon as it struck. He needed help getting up, but I just believed he was tired."

"What!" Clint was absolutely horrified. "One of those blue lasers? We saw what those things did to anybody else - a direct hit killed anybody in its path and blew up everything else! I'm willing to bet the only reason he's still alive is that serum stuff he was injected with. Stark, Tasha! Help me get this shirt off of him so I can get a better look at him. I've had some medic's training, which'll do for now, but he needs to be seen by a doctor ASAP." He froze suddenly, remembering something he'd seen from a rooftop, as gentle hands began to remove the bloody shirt. "Not only that, but he took a full-on hit from a bomb on his shield that blew him out a third story window onto a car. If he doesn't have broken ribs, it's a miracle."

"Did he say anything to you before he collapsed?" Natasha demanded.

"Said he couldn't breathe right before he fell." Clint grimaced and beside him he heard Tony's sharp intake of breath as they realized just how bad the injury to Steve's stomach was. The flesh around the wound was seared and blood flowed freely from it, helped by the removing of his shirt. Not only that, but his entire right side was nearly black with bruising, confirming Clint's fear of broken ribs.

Clint shuddered, remembering seeing the horrific wound in Phil's body less than twenty four hours before. Tony's voice broke through his thoughts suddenly, saying, "Come'n, we should get him lying flat. We can lay him on the bar for now - it's not the best, but the table's smashed."

"Right - help me lift him, but be careful. It's possible he has other injuries and we don't want to aggravate the rib injuries." Without another word, Thor, Tony and Clint lifted the injured man tenderly and carefully carried him across the room to lay him on the bar. The Hulk and Natasha hovered nearby, Natasha and Clint both silently praying the Hulk would be transformed back into the doctor and help Clint. Unfortunately, the giant was so angry at the damage that had been done to his beloved Captain that he could not calm down enough to once again become the doctor, so he watched helplessly instead.

Clint, examining the wound more closely, demanded of Thor, "How's his breathing?"

"Shallow," Thor replied instantly.

"Not surprising. He's lost a ton of blood - the average person would probably be in a coma or worse by now. I need to establish an IV line." Clint spun to dig through the med kit in search of an IV, only to find Natasha passing it to him. He gave her a faint smile which she tremblingly returned before he began probing for a vein large enough to support the IV needle. The Captain was so dehydrated from loss of blood that this took far longer than he would have liked but he found one at last. Clint handed the IV bag to the Hulk, partially because his height made it simple for him to keep the IV line at the right angle, but also because he knew that at heart the Hulk was actually a gentle man and would be thrilled to be useful.

Finally, he was able to turn his attention fully to the ugly wound. After carefully purging it with disinfectant, he began to stitch it. As he was doing so, however, the Captain began to thrash, the pain from having his burned flesh stitched reaching him even in his unconscious state. Without having to be told, Thor and Tony immediately grabbed onto him, one at his head and one at his feet, while Natasha continued to pass Clint the necessary items. At last, the wound was stitched shut and Clint wiped a sheen of perspiration from his face before tightly wrapping Steve's broken ribs. With a sigh of relief, he finally sagged against the bar. "Clint? Will he make it?" Tony asked softly.

Clint nodded. "With time and lots of rest, I think so. The normal person probably wouldn't, but the fact that he's quite literally a super-soldier is in his favor. I doubt he was even aware of these injuries, really, until he collapsed. Between the adrenaline and worrying about everybody else, I highly doubt he took the time to notice how badly he was hurt. So we'll have to keep a close eye on him to make sure that doesn't happen in the recovery process. In the meantime, I'd like to get him to the hospital - this was pretty much just a patch job - I'd like to have a doctor look him over, do some x-rays."

"Right!" Tony replied. "However, I'm not sure any ambulances would be able to get here right now, considering we're sittin' right in the heart of the destruction."

Clint frowned deeply in frustration. "Then we'll make a stretcher and carry him there ourselves!"

Without another word needing to be spoken, the rest of the team, minus the Hulk, who continued to hold the IV bag, whirled away to put together a stretcher. Suddenly, Thor called over his shoulder, "What about Loki?"

The others hesitated; they all wanted to go to the hospital with the Captain, but Loki certainly couldn't be left alone nor could he be brought along to the hospital. Then the Hulk grunted and pointed to himself, making Loki cringe. The last person he wanted to be stuck alone with was the giant of a man who had quite literally picked him up and smashed the floor with him. Clint smiled up at the giant. "Okay, thanks, big guy." It would have been supremely difficult to bring the Hulk into the hospital anyway, but he'd solved that problem himself by volunteering to stay with Loki.

As the others worked quickly to put together a stretcher, Clint bent over Steve. "Come'n, pal, fight it," he whispered into the other's ear. For, despite his assurance with the others, he knew that Steve was in serious condition and despite his top-notch health, could still die. "We gotta put New York back on her feet, an' I'm not about to do all the work," he added jokingly, angrily blinking back a tear as memories of his friend Phil slammed into him even as he bent over Steve. Beside him, he heard the Hulk grunt softly and knew in that moment he understood. Not feeling quite as alone, the archer let himself relax slightly. Even as he did, he felt the faintest press of his hand and realized that unconscious or not, Steve had heard him somehow and was promising the only way he could to fight.

Within two minutes the rest of the Avengers had put together a rough stretcher. It certainly wasn't top of the line, but it would do for what they needed. Tony had stripped off his ruined suit and was pressing the communication device in his ear to speak to Director Fury. "Fury here," the director responded instantly. "Good work out there, men - and Agent Romanoff - particularly you, Stark."

"Yeah, well, it's over. Captain America's down an' hurt bad - we're on the way to the hospital right now. After that, we're all declaring a leave of absence until further notice - any attempts to find us will be futile."

"You can bring the Captain to the ship - we have top of the line medical facilities here."

Hawkeye cringed at that statement, remembering how he was strapped down to a metal bed in a recovery room just hours before. Speaking for all of them, he drew his eyebrows together and shook his head.

"Don't think so, Director. We know you're a good man at heart - you warned us about the bomb and saved the city in the process, but we've all had it with that so-called committee and anything that has to do with it."

"I understand. Off the record, I couldn't agree more," Fury responded quietly.

Clint pressed the device in his own ear after a second's hesitation. "Off the record, we're taking him to Beth Israel Medical Center in Brooklyn if you and Agent Hill were to stop by."

"Noted. Thank you, Agent Barton."

Thor, not interested in communicating with any director, had been quietly watching Steve. Suddenly he grabbed Clint's arm. "His breathing is worsening."

Clint whirled around and grabbed Steve's wrist to check his pulse. "Pulse is thready too. Let's get him outa here, now!" Instantly Thor and Tony began to lift him onto the stretcher held by Clint and Natasha. "Careful - he may have back injuries as well," Clint warned as they lowered him onto the stretcher. Clint felt a twinge of pain shoot through his leg that had crumpled under him during his mad swing into the building, but he ignored it. Steve groaned softly but had no other reaction, even when they tied his wrists to the edges of the stretcher and a rope across his upper chest to keep him from sliding around. Without a backward glance, they left Tony's demolished building behind, leaving a still-enraged Hulk to guard the now terrified Loki.

Not more than twenty minutes later, the team carried their precious burden into, unknowingly, the same hospital in which Steve was born and summarily abandoned. A harried nurse glanced up - the hospitals had all seen a tremendous influx of patients the likes of which they hadn't seen since September 11 and she was expecting to see more worried family members whose questions she almost certainly wouldn't be able to answer. What she saw instead were four very intense stares from three men and a women whom she clearly recognized as having taken on and defeated Loki's army single-handedly. Between them on an improvised stretcher lay a very still Captain America, whom she'd heard from multiple people had saved their lives. And then she realized the man dressed all in black was the one who'd pulled her safely from the burning bus before she ran the few blocks to the hospital to assist. It was him she addressed. "What happened to him?" she demanded.

"Gut shot by one of the lasers, blasted out of a third story window that left broken ribs and probable concussion, and a bad gash on the upper arm. Breathing and pulse slow, appears to be in shock," Hawkeye reported tersely.

"Right!" Spinning away, she announced over the intercom, "Level one trauma case, room seven, immediate emergency!" Turning back to the waiting team, she added, "Take him to room seven - the doctors will be there within two minutes." As they began to pass her, she murmured, "And thank you."

But the Avengers never heard as they bore their now-beloved Captain into the room. True to her word, a team of two doctors and a nurse arrived only a few seconds later, with only a quick, startled glance at what was clearly the team of superheros. One gave Steve a quick examination and nodded. "Who did the sutures?"

Clint stepped forward slightly. "I did, sir. I was a medic previously. I also administered an IV of saline - that was all we had on hand."

"Very good - you've probably saved his life. But he does need blood and I'd hate to take some from our supply since it's very limited currently - are any of you willing to donate?"

In response, four arms instantly appeared in front of him. In spite of the gravity of the situation he couldn't help but chuckle. "He won't need more than two pints. Do any of you have type O blood? We don't have time to determine his blood type." Natasha and Tony nodded. "Okay, good. The nurse here will take your blood and then I'm gonna have to ask everyone to leave. Courtney, get the equipment."

Everyone in the room felt Hawkeye tense and his fist began to clench. The doctor noticed and smiled slightly. "I was going to add that I need your assistance if you're willing - that way we can free up another doctor and possibly the nurse to help others."

Clint sighed softly and the tension eased a little from his shoulders. "Of course."

"Good! Hawkeye, right?" the doctor asked.

He snorted softly. "Or Clint."

"All right, Clint, I'm Dr. Martin. As soon as we get your friend's condition stabilized here, we'll have to do something about those burns." As they had been speaking, the other doctor had established an IV line with saline as well as placed an oxygen mask. Everyone was relieved to see that the Captain's color was slightly improved but his breathing still seemed harsh.

The nurse had left the room but returned suddenly carrying an odd contraption. Tony gave her a puzzled look as she come up to him and Dr. Martin grinned faintly. "It's an old Russian device from World War II that allows for a direct transfusion from one person to another. It's a relic and technically we're not supposed to use them anymore, but I've found it comes in handy on occasions of emergency in which the blood type can be confirmed and no blood is on hand. You willing to give it a shot?"

Tony laughed outright. "Doc, I just flew a nuclear bomb up into a portal into another world. I'm not the least bit concerned about a needle!"

The others chuckled as well, all except Clint. The rest could tell he was growing impatient and Tony and Natasha quickly donated their blood to Steve before leaving the room along with Thor and the other doctor and Courtney.

"Okay, Clint, I'll be honest - despite my levity with your friends, the Captain here is truly in bad shape."

"I know," Clint shot back impatiently.

"I figured. Did you see any evidence of internal injuries when you were stitching him up?"

"No, but he also got blown out of a building. There could be internal trauma, particularly to his back, and I know he has at least one broken rib on the right side. I'm guessing he also has a concussion."

Dr. Martin's eyebrows raised. "I'd rather know all of it upfront. Thanks. I thought that serum he was injected with was supposed to make him heal miraculously fast, though?"

Clint's eyes darkened and flashed dangerously, making him look far more like the deadly archer than the concerned friend. "Look, Doc, a direct hit like he took would have blown any normal man in two, not to mention that he ought to be in a coma just from getting blasted out of a building. Now, are you gonna take care of him or stand here an' talk? `cause if you are, then give me the tools an' I'll take care of my friend!"

"Easy," the doctor murmured, hands palm-up toward the enraged man. "Let's get to work."

An hour and a half later, the surgery was done and the Captain was in a recovery room, at last in stable condition. Hawkeye, who refused to leave Steve's side, was perched in a chair beside his bed, having tightly wrapped his knee with bandages he'd appropriated from the ER, the chair positioned so that he could observe all movement in the room, including the window. Dr. Martin, meanwhile, emerged into the waiting room with an exhausted but pleased smile on his face. Tony and Natasha leaped instantly to their feet, followed a few seconds later by Thor. "Well?" Natasha demanded sharply.

"He'll be fine with time, although we almost lost him once. He's in a recovery room right now - Clint's with him. After he's moved into a regular room, you can all visit him. What happened to Thor? He's looking pale."

Tony glanced at the massive man beside him, who frowned deeply at the notion of any indication of weakness on his part. "He insisted on giving three pints of blood," he explained with a grin as he watched the doctor's mouth fall open.

"Three pints? Why, he should be passed out on the floor right now!"

"He's a demi-god - three pints of blood is nothin' - he wouldn'ta had the least bit of trouble if he hadn't been stabbed earlier, plus he hasn't had his lunch yet!"

Dr. Martin rolled his eyes, unable to do anything else. "You guys are nuts," he muttered with a tired grin. "Now, Captain America will be in recovery for a few hours an' there's not much more you can do here for the time being, so why don't you get the human blood-bank some food. If you give me a number, I'll call you as soon as he's transferred to a room."

Relaxed and smiling now that they knew the Captain would be all right, the remaining Avengers nodded and Tony gave the doctor his number. As they headed out the door, however, the doctor called after Thor, "Better get that wound checked out!"

Thor glanced over his shoulder. "It is nothing - already there is no pain. A day's rest and all will be well. Now we must tell Dr. Banner the good news regarding the Captain so that he might return to normal."

Leaving the doctor still too astonished to say anything, the three continued their march out the door to return to Stark's building.