"'Scuse me, pilot, is this the right flight?" a familiar, somewhat annoying voice said as it's speaker latched onto her back mid-flight. Carol smiled as she looked over her shoulder to see Peter perched perfectly on the small of her back, like it was nothing.
It wasn't the first time she wondered what kind of a pilot he would have made, if he wasn't such a science and business wizard.
"It is," she grinned as a thought came to her. "now please take your seat and strap in. We may be experience some slight turbulence." As soon as she was finished, she performed a series of quick, simple aerial manoeuvres as she ascended over the New York skyline. Nothing to fancy, but enough to perhaps throw him off if he wasn't paying attention.
Peter remained firmly attached to her backside, however. "And we hope you enjoy your flight with Captain Marvel Airlines," she finished with a grin.
"I am," Peter replied as he assumed a sitting position. "Pretty airline staff. Nice view. Pilot seems a bit distracted though..."
"Sorry," Carol chuckled as she came to a halt, and he spun himself around so that he was now 'resting' his knees on her waist. "There seems to be a bug in our equipment today."
"There was a bug in you equipment a few days ago too," Peter replied, earning himself a flick in the ear for his comment. "That's the thanks I get? I thought you rather enjoyed-"
"You're so bad at trying to keep this relationship incognito," Carol retorted with a snort. "Like, awful at it. Terrible even. Hulk's more subtle when he's in a bad mood. Whatever happened to the man who said 'I don't want my bad rep to drag you down?' and 'What will the other Avengers think?'"
"His brain was overloaded while looking at a beautiful woman,"he replied as he carefully swept a short lock of hair out of her eyes. "He's completely nuts. Bonkers. Should be locked away in an insane asylum."
"Two out of those three might be true," Carol said as she zipped the two of them onto a rooftop enveloped in long shadows. Before either of them really realized what they were doing, they became enveloped in a passionate kiss. A kiss which sent shivers down both spines as hands roamed over bodies. It was a few moments before they broke apart, both breathing heavily.
"You haven't said anything about my new wardrobe," Carol said as she gave a little twirl, showing off her brand new blue, red and gold outfit. "Doesn't it look nice?" she asked.
"Not a fair example," Peter replied, earning a raised eyebrow. "You're wearing it. Anything looks nice on you. Put it on Logan and we'll really see how it looks."
Her trip down memory lane ended abruptly. Something was pounding in her head. A blinding daze had overtaken her senses. She could only focus on one thing.
Ringing. That's what she could hear. Something ringing. Not far off, but not close by either.
And it wasn't a familiar ring. It was unnatural. Annoying. Were was it coming from?
She opened her eyes, to see the bright blue New York Sky. The clouds overhead were beautiful, calm, and serene. Just like they always had been. Or, at least, she thought they were, until a black plume of smoke entered her otherwise beautiful view.
The ringing intensified to a painful level. She had to get it to stop. She had to get back on her feet. But, as she rolled over, Carol Danvers discovered something.
It was blood. On someone's hand. There was a considerable amount of it. Someone was in trouble, and needed her help. That only served to spur her more into action. She pushed herself up as a strange sensation flew up her left arm. She didn't know what it was, nor did she have time to care. She could only power her way through it. After all, she'd experienced much worse in the past.
"I...need help..." she gasped as she looked around. People were running around, throwing debris in the air as they desperately looked for survivors. A group of men dressed in what used to be sharp black suits rushed past, carrying a bleeding man with them. She didn't know who he was, but knew that he was rather important. She didn't know much at all. The ringing in her ears clouded her thoughts. All she remembered was someone shouting...then a blast knocking her down.
"Help..." she repeated as she tried to step forward, only to have her foot catch on something, causing her to trip over, and collide with something metal. Tony... she remembered that he had been standing next to her whenever whatever happened happened. His armour was scorched and pitted with dents, the largest of which being across his chest, and extending onto his chin. Whatever had hit him must have hit him very hard. "Tony! Help...we need help..." she said, as loud as she could muster, which only caused the ringing to grow even louder and more painful. He turned, sharper than she had expected. His arm collided with her stomach and she stumbled backwards, again tripping over something, this hazard being round and metal.
But she caught herself this time, still feeling a strange sensation in her arm. But she didn't take notice. She instead focused on the Armoured Avenger. He was looking right at her, but not saying a word. Why isn't he helping!? She wondered, almost out loud. Someone had clearly attacked them, attacked him, and he was just standing there. The least he could do was at least say something. Instead he was just staring at her blankly.
"HELP!" she screamed shoving him with more force than she intended to. And for that, she once again lost her balance, as her foot slid across a metal surface and she came crashing down. A pair of strong arms stopped her fall at the last minute, but she was to focused on the metal disk to pay them any attention.
It was a shield. Steve's shield.
"Oh god!" she cried out as she saw the Super-soldier's arm lying not far from it, on top of a pile of rubble. She had to get to him, because something was clearly wrong. Mustering all her strength Carol pushed past the arms holding her in an attempt to reach him, but many boots blocked her way. She had to change that, she had to get to him.
"MOVE!" she yelled as she grabbed one of the boots. But a hand swept down and grabbed her wrist, gently rolling her over onto her side. "LET GO-!" she began to protest, until she saw that Peter was the one holding her. He wasn't holding her back so much as he was holding her down. "I have too..." she mumbled as she tried to lift her hand up, to touch his face. He was hurt, bleeding from his mouth and forehead. His clothes were torn in many places, and his entire shoulder was exposed to the air. "Have too..." she said as her vision began to swim, and the ringing grew to an unbearable level. It was so loud that she couldn't hear what he was saying to her, even as he soothed her by running his hands all over her body.
Her arm twitched as he touched it gingerly, but that clearly was not his biggest concern once he brought his fingers back from behind her head. Blood was dripping from them. Blood that wasn't his. As dark circles closed around her vision he waved to someone in the distance, before pressing his hands down on her chest repeatedly.
...xxXxx...
Tony Stark slumped himself against the nearest wall, thankful that he had been one of the few even allowed into the hospital. Given that they were at capacity before the explosion, anyone was lucky to be even on the premises even if they were injured or sick.
Given his condition, he shouldn't have been allowed in. But it was very obvious why the staff allowed him inside. They were scared of a follow-up attack, and wanted someone to protect them from whatever was out there. But Tony knew he was in very little condition to fight. His whole body was sore from head to foot. Thankfully his armour had protected him from the brunt of the explosion. However there was little it could do against Captain Marvel crashing right into him.
Though he noted that he was one of the ones who had fared best, as he watched an ambulance attendant run past with a severely injured police officer on top of a gurney.
"What a nightmare..." he breathed to himself as he removed his battered helmet. A few reports he'd gotten said that more than five thousand people were either dead or seriously injured. He'd personally seen Carol, Steve, Wasp and Falcon dragged away in Ambulances. From what Peter had said in the few seconds they'd spoken, the S.H.I.E.L.D agents he was with were out of action. Not surprising, given how badly the building they had been on top of was damaged.
"Thank the gods for that damn spidey-sense," Tony muttered to himself. He was mentally taking back every single time Spider-man had uttered that stupid catch-phrase. It was because of his two-second warning that Steve had been able to tackle the President, and Tony had been partially get his shields up. As he pondered to himself, he spotted Hank McCoy limping down the hall. In order to avoid bad press, Hank had elected to sty farther away from the podium, which probably had saved him from more serious injury. As it was the Doctor was only sporting a sprained ankle. He was probably in the best shape currently, aside from maybe Wolverine.
"What do we know so far?" The mutant Doctor asked.
"How'd you get in here?" Tony half-muttered with a lazy roll of his head. "You're fine, Beast. How'd they-?"
"Trained physician," McCoy replied politely. "And it's all hands on deck right now. They're taking anyone they can get. School nurses, Medical Students, Veterinarians, PSW's, you name it. I think they've even got someone outside training volunteers off the street." Of course, he didn't say it, but it was obvious his skills were going to be in high demand with all the Super-humans who had been injured. Hank was perhaps the most qualified man in the world when it came to special DNA. "So, was it Doom?"
"A Doom-bot," Tony spat with contempt. "But it wasn't the source of the explosion...there was more than one..."
"i should think so," Hank replied, "the blast radius alone indicates...Thank god it wasn't nuclear!"
"There is that," Tony nodded simply. "Where'd they take Steve? Last I heard-."
"They took him by chopper to a hospital a few miles away," Hank said swiftly, with his facial features twitching slightly. He placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, trying his best to comfort him. "It's...it's not looking good. The lacerations are bad enough. But he's got internal bleeding and punctured lungs as well."
"They'll give him the best care though," Tony said, more to himself than to Hank. "He saved the goddamn President. And he's a war hero to boot. And," Tony said, still trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "He's got the serum running through his veins. He'll pull through, right?" Hank's expression did not bode well.
"Tony," the furred mutant sighed. "I won't sugar-coat this for you. He's in rough shape. Really rough shape. By all accounts he should be dead. Not comatose like he is," the former X-man continued. "The serum is the only reason he's even still alive. I'm sure of it. But," he added with a small nod. "I am friends with the head surgeon at the hospital he's been taken to. He said he will inform me of any changes in his condition as soon as possible." Tony wanted to say something, to rebuke Hank's dire claims with some knowledge that Steve Rogers was going to pull through. That he'd probably already recovered, and had commandeered the Helicopter in order to make it back to the action. But he couldn't lie to himself like that.
A group of surgeons rushed past, carrying a red-headed woman in their midst. Through the sea of bodies he couldn't make out her features, or anything about her. The only thing that stood out was the steel pipe sticking through her back. That certainly put his own injuries in perspective.
"How many do we still have?" Hank asked timidly. "I've seen-"
"Logan, Spidey, Strange and Clint all pulled through with only a few scratches," Tony said with a slow exhale, realizing just how few people that was. "Wasp and Captain Marvel are here in surgery. Cage is M.I.A, but I'm pretty sure he's gone looking for Jessica and Danielle. He'll probably report in soon. She-Hulk got a piece of wood stuck in her thigh, but with her healing she'll be right as rain in bit. Wanda was knocked out cold. And I can't get a hold of the Fantastic Four at all, thanks to all the cellphone lines being shut down or overloaded." he'd also been trying to reach as many street-levelers as he could, to see who he could call on for backup. However, it seemed as though all those who weren't caught in the immediate blast were busy looking for friends and family. Or they were preparing to deal with the inevitable crime-wave that was sure to come their way. "What a mess."
"It could have been worse," Hank offered as best he could. "At least we had some warning."
"Yeah," Tony nodded in agreement, "Yeah, way worse. What a difference a whole two damn seconds makes. I got my shields up part-way, and Cap covered the President. It's not much, but it's something. When this is all over," he grunted as he thumped his head against the wall. "I'm gonna throw that kid a big-ass fucking party. Were is he, anyways? I wanna thank-" he paused as his eyes were drawn to the television, which was showing a re-cap of the day's events. Casualty numbers ran across the bottom, but it was the top he was more interested in. The entire left half of his Company headquarters had collapsed. The whole R & D department was gone. Thankfully, at least it seemed as though the bunker underneath was untouched, as people could be seen milling out of it unscathed. Only a few were seriously injured. He would be able to re-build everything, thankfully. And most of the digital information was stored elsewhere. But it still hit him very close to home.
...xxXxx...
She opened her eyes with a snap. The ringing was gone from her ears...replaced by pure silence. It took a few heart-pounding moments for her to realize were she was, and what had happened. She tried to lift herself up, to see what was happening, but a fresh bout of pain washed over her and she slumped back down. She needed to collect her thoughts, to understand whatever was happening.
Her head was still foggy. That meant she'd had some sort of head injury. Possibly a concussion. Not surprising, given the force of the blast that had hit her. But it was still much clearer than before. She could see clearly as well, which was a good sign.
What wasn't a good sign was seeing her arm in a sling, or feeling a bandage wrapped around her head. Or the feeling of laboured breathing.
Currently she was lying in a hospital bed, in an otherwise unoccupied room. The silence was actually somewhat soothing as she lay her head back onto her pillow. But she still wanted some company. Someone to tell her what else was happening. Who was safe? Who else had been hurt? Where had the explosion come from? Was it Doom? She distinctly remembered seeing parts of a Doom-bot on the remains of the podium.
She was a woman of action. The last thing she wanted was to be put on the side-lines while her friends were out in the thick of the action.
She looked around for a call button. There had to be one nearby, and there was. She reached for it with her good arm, pressed the button and watched the little light blink. Weird, she thought, I thought those things were supposed to make a buzz sound. As she waited, she looked down at herself. Her outfit was surprisingly intact, save for a few rips and tears. Her left arm was in a sling, and her shoulder, which was the only part the doctors seemed to have cut away from, was heavily bandaged. Beneath the bandage she could see a small red splotch, and feel the familiar sensation of stitches.
No question about it, she was in rough shape. Thankfully, a nurse opened the door, and peeked his head in. He gave Carol one good look and whispered something so softly that it almost didn't make a sound. Before she even knew it the nurse had closed the door again, rather rudely.
Still, her serene silence remained. She looked at the clock, and saw that it had been three hours since the explosion. A whole three hours unaccounted for. What had happened in that time? God, where is Peter when I need him? She asked herself as she lay motionless, almost afraid to move out of fear of discovering some new, horrible injury. If he were here, she smiled to herself, he'd have already joked about me being out cold...a roofie joke maybe? No, nothing that lewd. Maybe a knockout hottie? Gawd, I'm even starting to think like he does!
As if on cue, the door opened again and two people burst inside. One was Peter, the other was Jessica. The latter of whom was on crutches and hobbling towards her. Peter, however, practically ran to her side. He cupped her cheek with one hand, and brushed the other against her forehead's only bare section.
"Who...what happened?" Carol asked directly. Both Jessica and Peter stared at one another for a moment before looking back in her direction. Their silence was slightly disturbing. "How long was I out?" She asked, thinking she'd get an answer. She did, in a way. She saw Jessica mumble something to Peter so softly that Carol didn't pick it up. What? Were they trying to keep details on her condition from her or something? They had no legal right to do so. And she was sure going to make sure they knew that.
"Tell me what's happened!" she roared, rising to a sitting position as she spoke. Again, Jessica and Peter whispered to one another, with Carol unable to hear them. Which was infuriating. So infuriating that she grabbed Jessica by the arm and pulled her close. "Tell me what-" she began to repeat, only to have her friend wrap both her slender arms around Carol's torso, disturbing several obviously broken ribs by accident in the process. Jessica was an emotional person, granted, but she was never usually this personal. Something was off.
Carol turned to Peter, hoping he would explain this, at least, but he was cupping his hand over is jaw. His expression read somewhere in-between shock, guilt, exhaustion and worry. Not a good combination, especially when it came to him. Before she could ask again, Jessica pulled Carol's face in her direction. Her expression was extremely similar, though only filled with more tears. She wordlessly mouthed something to Carol, which set off alarm bells.
Jessica's face was way too close for her to not have made a sound without Carol hearing it.
Her heart began to beat faster and faster in her chest, as she started to piece things together.
The Nurse hadn't spoken to her.
The buzzer hadn't made any noise.
The door was too silent.
No noise was coming in from outside.
She couldn't hear what the two people right next to her were saying.
She started to panic. Her arms thrashed through the air as she gripped onto Peter's shoulder tightly, praying for some sort of response. He responded in kind, of course, by helping Jessica restrain her. Most likely so that she didn't wind up hurting herself. Not that Carol cared much about that at the moment. She needed an answer, pronto. She desperately wanted to know that the new fear that filled her wasn't about to come true.
She restrained herself for a moment, allowing Peter to reach into a pouch he had within his shirt, and retrieve his phone. On it, he began typing a message. A message Carol wasn't sure she wanted to read. She was afraid of what it would say. Of what it was going to mean for the rest of her life. As soon as he was done typing, however, she took it with shaking hands.
"Carol," it read, "The Doctors told us that you sustained heavy damage to your eardrums. You've gone deaf."
...xxXxx...
Peter Parker slumped against the wall in utter defeat, as his legs simply gave out from underneath him. Every muscle in his body was burning. He knew he'd managed to pull at least half of them. And definitely had torn a ligament or two. Plus the physical exertion he had experienced while making absolute record time across Central Park, mere seconds after the dust had settled. That horrible image was still burned deep within the forefront of his mind, and he was sure it wouldn't be leaving him anytime soon.
How was it supposed to, anyways? Was he supposed to just forget seeing the back of her head all bloodied? Or the fact that she had inhaled so much dust she actually stopped breathing?
And how exactly could he have handled telling her the horrible news any better than he had? In the seconds that had followed, he'd watched as her eyes welled up with tears and she cried herself into a state of unconsciousness. He hadn't left the room, however. He was still right beside her bed, gingerly holding her hand so that she sub-consciously knew he was still there for her.
Though a part of him wondered if he needed her support as much as she needed his. Before she'd woken up, he'd gotten a good glimpse of what the attack had done to people. Whole buildings had collapsed all across Manhattan. Thankfully in pockets, so a good two-thirds of the city was still standing, although most window panes needed replacing. he'd already made arrangements with his bank to pay the city a large sum of money to help cover the costs. It was the least he could do, after failing so hard.
He had seen far too many people come and go through the hospital's walls in black body bags. Too many children with bloody bandages. Too many hopeless cases.
"My fault," he whispered to himself, cursing his own existence. "I should have known. I could have...done something." perhaps nearly as devastating as Carol's current state was watching as a pair of E.M.T's rushed one of his closest friends, Mary-Jane Watson, the current Secretary of Stark Industries, through the hall with a metal pipe sticking out of her. He almost followed them, before they entered a clean operating room, which he stopped before entering, knowing he'd do more harm than good.
Just like always.
"Always my fault," he told himself as he felt the weight of his failures press down on his shoulders. Five thousand people were dead. All because he had been just to slow to warn everyone. He closed his eyes, hoping that it'd all been some horrible dream. That he'd wake up next to Carol and have a nice breakfast. That would be nice.
"No, no, no, no!" he screamed as he felt her lungs start to spasm. Her entire body went into a series of powerful convulsions. Acting fast he began performing chest compressions, hoping to force her heart back into a steady rhythm. As long as she stayed breathing, it was good. "Come on, babe," he whispered as he checked her airway, "come on, breathe...breathe for me..." He'd seen this same scene played out before too many times to let it happen again.
The creaking door forced him to snap his eyes back open. Two men entered the room softly. Which was surprising, given that one was covered in thick metal, and the other was full of an even thicker metal. Logan and Tony entered the room respectfully, keeping quiet and making sure the coast was clear.
"What's the latest?" Logan's question was direct and to the point, as usual. But it definitely carried a note of compassion.
"What did the doctor tell you two?" Peter replied as he wiped his eyes dry. For the moment at least. He hoped to avoid speaking the words he knew he'd eventually have to. Even if it was just for a little while.
"That she may have suffered hearing loss," Tony Stark nodded as he removed his helmet. "Did she-?"
"She did," Peter quipped bitterly, turning away from the two man and back to the sleeping Carol Danvers. He rubbed his thumb against her palm as he spoke, "She's...she's gone deaf and-"
"Not permanently," Logan cut in, sounding more hopeful than Peter dared allow himself to be. "Even Beast admitted that he doesn't know the full extent of her healing abilities."
"Not to mention all the breakthroughs we've had with-" Tony began to offer, just as Peter put his hand up to shut him up.
"Don't," Peter practically growled at his team-mates. His uncharacteristically unfriendly tone obviously caught the two of them off-guard and stopped their words in their mouths. "Don't you dare try and make me feel better about this. Don't try and give me hope," he continued viciously as he turned to face the wall, and leaned against it. He wasn't speaking to the two Avengers as much as he was to himself. "The moment I think things can get better...they're gonna get worse..." He was choking on his own words so badly that he barely felt his vibrating phone. He nearly ignored it, but soon realized that only two numbers would be able to reach him at the moment, through private airways that he had constructed. One of those people was Carol.
The other was his Aunt. Desperately, he pulled his phone out, answering it moments before it went to voice-mail.
"Aunt May, where are you?!" he snapped out of fear. The blood soon drained from his face, however, as he could only hear desperate gasps for air coming from the other end of the line. He bolted out of the room before either man could blink, let alone protest his statement. Not that they thought they could convince him otherwise.
"Get someone after him," Logan said quietly as he walked over to his resting team-mate. He'd known Carol a little longer than Peter had, though only barely. And until they'd both joined the Avengers they hadn't know each other very well. But he certainly now counted her among his closest friends, along with the web-head. He had, of course, been one of the strongest (and most secret) supporters of their relationship. "Have him followed, Stark."
"Who's there to send?" Tony replied honestly, as he joined Logan on the opposite side of Carol's bed. "Rhodey's on cleanup. Falcon's got a broken leg. Wasp is...out of commission. I can't get a hold of either Thor. Face it Logan, we're spread too thin as it is. Besides," Tony shrugged apprehensively. "Spidey can handle himself. We don't need to worry about anything happening to him."
"No," Logan whispered softly, "not yet."