Loss and Hope
Chapter 10
Disclaimer: See chapter one

It had been two weeks since he had picked up a young troubled, extremely injured hitchhiker in the middle of the night on a Pennsylvania highway. Two weeks since that same young man had collapsed on him outside a gas station in a small town in Ohio. Two weeks since he had watched that same young man, finally having someone who knew him, who cared for him, experience a devastating seizure that placed him in a coma that the doctors didn't believe he would recover from. And Two weeks since he'd watched an unmarked ambulance leave the hospital with both the young man and the mysterious 'Phil' inside.

George had finally made it to his son's home in Chicago. Mark had been worried about his father when he called concerning the unknown stranger his father had picked up that night. A million worst case scenarios had played through the younger Thompson's mind as his father had done something he had never done before and picked up a hitchhiker. Mark knew his father was a very caring man, but over the couple phone calls they had exchanged while his father sat in a distant hospital with a man he didn't know, Mark could hear the fear and worry his dad held for the man he was with. His father tried to make him understand his need to stay with the injured man, he tried to explain just how lost and broken the kid he'd picked up looked and he couldn't, in good conscious, abandon a person who was somebody's son. When his dad had finally reached Chicago two days later he saw a sad weariness in his eyes. George had explained all that happened and it tore at his son's heart that his father had been there alone to deal with all that. And though his dad seemed to enjoy their visit, enjoy the distraction of his grandchildren, Mark would catch him looking off in deep thought and he knew his father was wondering if the young man had somehow survived the seemingly un-survivable or if he had lost his battle and if he did that Phil was with him in the end.

Mark had been watching his father through the kitchen window; the older man was on the patio with his coffee, that look in his eyes again. The younger man wished there was a way he could find out what happened to Clint Barton…that's the name his father said Phil called him, Agent Clint Barton. His dad had commented that upon observing the two people who had arrived at the hospital that they had appeared military, but that there was something more. Mark had watched news feeds, did internet searches, just about anything he could think of with that name and nothing came up. The only thing remotely close was a small newspaper article about an automobile accident many years ago in Iowa, where George had told his son the hitchhiker was heading, involving a Barton family. Parents had died and their two surviving sons had disappeared into the system, the boys names had been Barney and Clint, but what would the chances had been it was the same person and even if it was it had no baring on what had happened in Ohio.

The sound of a car pulling up out front drew Mark's attention from his father, his kids were at school, his wife visiting her own mother the next town over to give father and son time together. Walking to the front window he noticed four men exit the vehicle, two rather large looking ones, one in a hoodie and jeans, one in a style more like what he'd seen his father wear when dressed for church. The two other men were smaller, one reminding him a professor he once had, blazer over a button-up and a nervous air about him and the final man could have walked off the cover of a magazine; an obviously tailored suit, expensive sunglasses and a presence that commanded attention. If Mark hadn't known any better the man reminded him of that billionaire from New York…Stark, Tony Stark. He had been in the news a lot in the last two weeks, since that massive attack on New York that no one really seemed to completely understand or explain, but Stark had been part of it somehow. Shaken from his thoughts Mark Thompson made it to the door just as there was a knock.

When he opened the door the two dark haired men were in quiet conversation, "I can be tactful Bruce, just I got this…" Then the men turned to look at Mark and a wide grin spread across the well dressed man's face, "Mark Thompson," a hand was held out, "nice to meet you, I'm Tony Stark…these are my friends; Bruce Banner, Steve Rodgers and Thor Odienson, may we come in?"

Mark just stood there a moment, it was Tony Stark, the other names vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place them, but Tony Stark was standing on his front porch. The shock wearing off when the other dark haired man spoke, Bruce, if his stunned memory served him, "See, I told you, to much to fast…four imposing strangers arrive at his door and you dump everything on him at once…" Tony went to interrupt but Bruce held up his hand then turned toward the younger Thompson. "I'm sorry about him, comes across a little strong." Banner ignored the 'hey' Stark made. "Mr. Thompson, could we come in please, we'll explain everything, but the less attention drawn to us the better."

"Yes, God I'm sorry, it's just…please come in." Mark stepped back as the four men entered, motioning them into the small front room of his home. "Please have a seat, can I get you anything?" Mark stumbled, trying to remember his manners while trying process who was in his house.

"No were fine, thank you." Bruce seemed to take over talking, his calming voice appearing to sooth the nerves of the homeowner.

"Okay, I don't understand," Mark began, still trying to process things, "Why are you here? How could Tony Stark possible even know I exist?" This was just too much; his mother would have clipped him on the back of the head for his lack of tact at the moment.

"Actually," the neatly dressed blonde man spoke from his spot standing near the front window, "We're looking for George Thompson, your father." It seemed the man remembered something as the words left his mouth, "I'm sorry," He held out his hand, "Steve Rodgers."

"My dad?" Mark didn't understand, his day had tilted into the world of strange in the span of ten minutes and he was still trying to catch up.

Just then a voice was heard from the kitchen, "Mark, who are you talking to?" George rounded the corner into the living room as Tony and Bruce stood from their seats on the couch while Steve and Thor turned toward the older man who had just entered the room. "Mark? Is everything all right?" the elder Thompson eye the men wearily, one seemed vaguely familiar but he couldn't place him.

Mark stepped toward his father, "I really don't know dad, these men are looking for you. Dad that's Tony Stark."

Recognition flashed in George's eyes as the name sunk in, you'd have to live in a cave to not know that name, then confusion, "What's Tony Stark doing in your living room? And who is the rest of this lot?"

The four men smiled slightly at the older man's phrasing, Tony stepping forward, "Mr. Thompson, it if so nice to finally meet you." The Thompson men were stunned, still not understanding.

"Why would you want to meet me?" George was a quiet man from rural Pennsylvania, how on earth had he gotten on Tony Starks radar.

"Again, Tony I think introductions and explanations are in order." Bruce again being the calm voice in the seemingly overwhelming situation.

"Mr. Thompson, I'm Bruce, this is Steve and that is Thor and of course Tony doesn't really need any introduction." Banner glanced at Stark who had a huge 'everybody knows me' smile on his face as he retook his seat on the end of the couch. "Please, sit and we will explain everything." Bruce motioned for the Thompson men to sit as he retook his seat on the couch, Steve and Thor remained standing.

Bruce looked at everyone, then back at George, clasping his hands together as he spoke, "Two weeks ago you were driving here to visit your son when you picked up a gravely injured hitchhiker, you got him to a hospital, and you stayed with him so he wouldn't be alone. You remember?"

George's face took on a sad look as he glanced at the men in his son's living room, "I remember, how could I not. I didn't know until he got in the truck he was hurt, didn't realize until he collapsed on me just how hurt he was."

"Why'd you pick him up? A lone hitchhiker in the middle of the night?" Steve asked quietly. They had all been trying to figure out how a seemingly unimportant man had been able to do the one thing all of them and their resources hadn't been able to, find and take care of their friend.

The older man looked up at Steve, "I don't know. I've never picked up a hitchhiker in my life, but when I saw him something told me he needed help…" George looked at his own son, "I guess I was thinking of Mark here, I guess I was thinking that if my son needed help someone would help him, so I stopped. When the young man reached the door and I got a look at him in the dim light he just looked…lost…broken." Realization dawned on George in that moment, "You know him…where is he? What happened to him? He left with Phil and the woman, the doctor's didn't hold out much hope…"

The mood of the room shifted as the last two weeks played on everyone, with Tony losing his characteristic smirk, Steve folding his arms across his chest, Thor shifting slightly, a look a guilt over the pain his own brother had caused and the affect it had on the people he was coming to care about, and finally Bruce who pressed his lips together, clenching and unclenching his hands in front of him before he looked back at the older man before him. "Mr. Thompson…"

"George." the older man corrected.

Bruce nodded, "George, I think you deserve to know the story from the beginning."

A/N: Didn't think I'd resolve it that easy did ya ;-)