I hate magic.

For a number of reasons. Loki, the Tesseract, the Chitauri. Personally, I think technology and science are much more stable and reliable.

But the main reason I hate magic was the fact that it was the reason I was currently curled up in a hard plastic chair by the side of a hospital bed, watching monitors jump and blink as they monitored my dad's heart rate, breathing rate, and blood pressure, among other things.

The last mission had started out pretty routine – for us, anyways. There were automated, Pinocchio-type puppets attacking the subway system. We smashed the puppets and eventually worked our way towards the root of the problem, a young girl with glowing orange hands and psychedelic eyes.

She had told us that the modern world was evil, and that Earth needed to go medieval again to be restored to its former glory, its 'golden age', as she put it. When we laughed in her face, she suddenly looked very petulant and said she could convince us that she was right. She then looked around at all of us, seemingly studying us, before she looked at the sky and nodded.

All she had to do was snap her fingers for my dad's comms to cut off and for him to go down like a sack of lead. I would have rushed over, but I couldn't move. I don't think anyone could, not even Hulk. The girl then clapped her hands and disappeared, leaving only the faint smell of sulfur and a note.

I glance down at the wrinkled square of paper in my hands. How can this be all we have?

Dear Heroes –

Heed my words, for they may be the key to saving the man of metal. If you will not join me in the past, I will do my best to convince you. When you are ready to see how, join your entire team in the same room as the man of metal and each place a hand on his skin.

Salutations,

Me

"Any change?"

I almost drop the note as I look up to see Clint standing on the other side of the bed, two coffee cups in hand. I roll the paper up and set it in my pocket as I take one of the paper cups, shaking my head. "Not here, no. He still has a pulse, he still hasn't moved, let alone woken up. How are things coming with Bruce?"

"He hasn't found anything. He was wondering if he could get the note for handwriting analysis."

"Just don't let anyone lose it." I warn as I hand the paper over. "Have we considered following the instructions yet?"

Clint sighs. "It's still a last resort. We don't know if it's a trap, or if it could hurt him. Villains aren't known for being truthful." he points out.

"I know." I admit softly. "But it's also all we have. What if, this one time, she's telling the truth?"

Clint sighs again as he comes around the bed to wrap me in a warm hug. "I'll talk to Bruce and Steve again. I'm sorry, sparrow, I wish this was easier."

"When is anything ever easy?"

"Good point. Now, I was supposed to be here to relieve you. You want to go home?"

"Ha, no."

"I figured as much." he chuckles as he drag a chair over. "But I can't go home again without you, or else Natasha and Bruce will make me suffer. So it looks like you've got company."

I just shrug and shift in the chair again, trying to find a comfortable position.

"I brought cards, you up for Go Fish?"

A~A~A

The entire team was in the room within the next hour because Bruce hadn't found anything, Thor didn't recognize the magic, and they only idea we had left was mine – following the instructions.

"Is everybody sure about this?" Bruce speaks up.

"We don't know what we'll see." I explain. "It could be his memories, his secrets, his hopes, dreams…we have no idea whatsoever."

"So if you are not fully prepared, you can leave now and nobody will hold it against you." Steve tells us.

Nobody moves.

I expected no less.

"Ready?" Bruce asks, and we all nod.

"Okay then." Steve takes a deep breath. "On three, we establish contact. One."

"Two." Bruce continues.

I breathe out and blink slowly. "Three!"

I grab my dad's right hand, Bruce grabs his right wrist, Steve lays a hand on his stomach, Thor grabs a knee, Natasha's hand brushes against his ankle, and Clint lays a hand on his forehead.

Then there's a stabbing pain behind my eyes, like a spike being driven through my skull, as the colors in the room grow more vivid before everything goes white.

The silence.

And nothing.