A/N: Getting closer and closer to the end of this story! I'm hoping everyone is pleased with the outcome. Thanks for everyone who reviewed, even those I couldn't reply to, and I certainly hope this new chapter meets all your expectations. Please, enjoy!


The beeping was always there.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sometimes, if I tried really hard, I could make it faster.

BeepBeepBeep

But then my arm would sting and hurt, and my leg would hurt more, and I'd behave.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sometimes I felt like I was waking up.

"We need you under for a bit longer, Miss Hunter."

Why? Someone's waiting for me. Someone…

Maybe it's Death I'm thinking of.


People sit by me. I can sense the change, when someone leaves and another arrives. But someone is always with me, between my wakings and my unconsciousness.

Thor smells like smoke, like rain, like wet forest. He only came once, in the beginning, to say goodbye. He was taking Loki away, and that made me happy. He didn't know if he could come back, and that made me sad.

He held my hand, though. That was nice.


"Got a room next to mine, Hunter. Might as well call this the Hero Wing, what with how many of us end up here. I've got that episode of Supernanny on tape, too; you can't just leave without seeing how it ends."

He smells strongly of blueberries, weakly of engine grease, or something similar. Occasionally there is an undercurrent of coconut. Maybe he brings fruit with him.

He never speaks, but he seems sad. Sad and sorry.


Banner does speak. About my progress. About New York. About the Avengers.

I wanted to tell him that he didn't have to make up for not speaking before. But I couldn't.


Mr. Rolf called in. He said my job was still waiting for me when I woke up.

Clint arrived when Mr. Rolf left, and sat with me for a few hours, doing something with his hands.

"This isn't what I meant when I said I'd share a hospital room with you, Molly. It wasn't."


Natasha said sorry. That I was untrained, but I wasn't unprepared. That she was wrong.

Tears leaked from under my eyelids, down the sides of my face in warm rivulets.

She pressed the button, and I fell asleep.


When I opened my eyes for the first time, there was a vintage Captain America poster, framed, leaning against the side wall. A small 'get well soon Coulson' was printed on a tag hanging form the corner.

A messy 'and Steve' was tagged on the poster was signed by him, too.

I was sad I wasn't semi-conscious for Steve's visit.

I fell into a voluntary, un-drugged sleep.


Barton was there when I woke up.

"Hey." The corners of his eyes crinkled. I smiled, attempting to respond only to cough and splutter dryly, until a plastic cup was pushed against my lips. My arms and legs felt heavy and numb, so my fumbling for the bed control led only to Clint motoring my bed into an upright position.

"How long was I out?" I croaked. Clint made a noncommittal noise.

"A week or two. Somewhere between. You've been in and out the past few days." I nodded slowly, looking down my bed.

There was a lump in the covers where my left foot was. My right just stopped.

I shuddered, and looked away.

Clint rubbed the back of his neck. "They never found your foot. It was a blood infection that kept you down, though."

I breathed out harshly, angry and upset. What was I going to do now? I'd have to get rid of all my right shoes, I'd have to get in a wheelchair; I'd probably lose my job with Mr. Rolf. I'd be pitied for the rest of my life.

"Hey, calm down, Hunter," Clint said, hand on my shoulder, thumb rubbing across my hospital gown. My face felt hot, and my eyes stung. "Stark's making you this awesome prosthetic, you'll barely even notice it's there."

"And when did Tony become an expert in prosthetic limbs?"

"A week ago. Almost two," Tony drawled, ambling in the room with a metal briefcase. "I've got a present for you, Mister Mistoffelees." Clint patted my head, mumbled something about coffee, and took off. Opening his briefcase, Tony raised a brow at me. I mimicked his expression.

"May I?" He questioned, gesturing to my missing foot. I shuddered, but nodded, and he pulled the blanket up to my knee.

The foot I was expecting, in my imagination, was a plastic, peachy flesh colored monstrosity with some kind of harness to keep it on my foot. This was not what Tony had in his hands.

I could see the intricate gears and wires inside how each toe was separate, could move on hinges, acting as joints. I could see where it would fit onto my leg, vaguely harness like, though Tony warned me it was designed to be permanent and would essentially 'fuse' into my leg.

I hissed in pain as it did so; it was well worth it, however, to wiggle those little mechanical toes.

Tony slid a rubbery, skin like sock over the foot; if it wasn't my foot I wouldn't have never have been able to tell where my leg stopped and my prosthetic began.

I wasn't going to ask how he got my exact skin color. I did have some questions though.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Why not? The good Captain is all about taking care of your team, after all." He kept fiddling with the sock, not keeping my eyes. Suddenly, something clicked.

Tony smelled like blueberries.

"Tony." I called, softly. He looked up at me, through the hair, falling down in front of his eyes. "Nothing that happened was your fault."

"It was my tower."

"You think there weren't a hundred other towers he could have chosen? The Statue of Liberty, even?"

"The Tesseract was powered by an arc reactor. That's how he got it to work. Without that tower, he could have never opened that portal!" There was hostility in his voice, anger I his eyes; but none of it was directed at me.

"Don't you dare regret making that arc reactor," I hissed. "It's a scientific marvel, the biggest jump in clean energy ever! Think of all the good it'll do!"

"Look at all the evil it's already done!" Tony shouted, throwing an arm out towards the window. Outside, partly destroyed skyscrapers dotted the horizon; many streets were still closed off as rubble and written-off cars were towed away.

Tony sighed, gripping the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers. "Stark's are only ever good for making weapons." He moved towards the door. I flipped the covers away, swinging my legs around to hover over the floor.

"I don't believe that." Tony paused, turning as I lowered my feet to the floor. I gave a surprised gasp; even through my new prosthetic, I could feel the cool tile against my feet. I tilted my head up again to meet the billionaire's eyes. "And I think I have a pretty good reason for it, too." I put a little more pressure on the flats of my feet. "Now get over here and help me get to the window."

It was slow going, and while I could stand on my own I did need Tony's help to walk, but overall it didn't tale too long to make my way across the room.

I didn't even get a good look out the window before Clint returned, Styrofoam coffee cup falling out of his hand and splashing coffee against the tiles. "What the hell is wrong with your legs?"

I had a witty reply about my awesome new foot all ready, until I realized that both Tony and Clint had their eyes a little closer to my knees, and Tony had leaned down and gripped my leg to keep me still, and Clint had said 'legs', not 'feet', and that there were two, identical glowing blue dots blinking beneath the skin on the back of my legs, below my knees.

Tony pressed lightly into the skin; I could feel the pressure, but certainly not of a finger; it was the painful pinch of something metal, some kind of device beneath my skin.

Dear seeping into my mind, I turned to Clint, eyes wild. "What's going on?"

His gaze flew between the glowing lights beneath my skin, Tony's hands as he inspected them, and my terrified face.

"I'm calling Coulson."


A/N: Uuugh, my dad's been asking about my story, and I've been trying to play it off like it's totally not Avengers fanfiction. Hopefully being so close to the end I can start working on a more original piece to throw him off the trail. Anywho, please let me know what you think; I can't improve if I don't get other opinions! Thank you all so much for reading.