"Tony!"

Tony dimly heard the muffled voice, slowly merging from dream to reality. Is the voice from my dream, or am I dying in real life? Someone gently shook his shoulder and he opened his eyes a fraction.

He was lying on his side on the cold floor. Steve was kneeling beside him, his hand on his shoulder. Tony flicked his gaze to him, squeezing his eyes tightly as pain shot through his chest. A spasm of anguish contorted his pale face and he let out a quiet noise of distress.

Steve ran his fingers through Tony's dark hair, trying to comfort him.

Exhaling a long, calming breath, Tony flicked open his eyes again. He rolled onto his front and pushed himself up with his arms. As he got to his hands and knees, however, his right arm buckled and he fell into Steve's lap. He instinctively murmured "Ow". Steve quickly helped him back up, pushing him carefully into a sitting position.

Tony dropped his head back, resting it against the wall. He could still hear the screeches echoing in his ears. They never stopped. The dream was too vivid. Because it wasn't just a dream.

It was memory.

The screams of the Chitauri. The deafening explosions as their mothership went up in flames. And the inevitable silence. The darkness as Tony's eyes flickered shut; he had done what he needed to. Every night he would relive that moment.

Unless he didn't sleep.

Unless it was replaced by the horrifying image Wanda had uncovered from his mind while she was working with Ultron.

"Tony, are you okay!?"

He blinked open his eyes, realising he was shivering. Swallowing, he forced his breathing to deepen, drawing in long breaths and exhaling them slowly.

"I'm fine, fine. I just have to stay here for a minute." He murmured.

Steve nodded slowly and waited, giving Tony all the time he needed. Though he would never admit it, Tony felt too shaken by his past at the moment to stand. His legs felt like they were too weak to keep him up. Steve hadn't asked him what he had been dreaming about and Tony was grateful for his understanding.

Was that what friends did? Do they just know what to say and what to leave untouched? Tony wondered. I wouldn't know, would I?


Pietro sat on the edge of Clint's bed, hesitantly taking hold of his hand.

It had been about six hours since Laura had left and Clint was still deep in slumber.

The archer, for once, was sleeping peacefully, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady. His head was turned slightly to the left side, towards Pietro; his eyes were shut, his breath clouding the inside of the oxygen mask. One hand- his right hand- was laid over his stomach, the other hanging limply in Pietro's.

"Bruce is back." Pietro whispered quietly to the sleeping man. "Natasha called him and told him what happened and he got a flight back almost straight away."

Pietro tilted his head slightly to one side, searching for any signs that Clint had heard. There was none. The archer was motionless, unresponsive to Pietro's words. Is he still unconscious? Pietro wondered. Shouldn't he have woken up by now?

"I think he feels a bit guilty that he wasn't at the battle to help you guys." Pietro went on, trying to sound calm, even though he knew Clint couldn't hear him. "Anyway, he's been in here a couple of times. Doing some… science, doctor things. I didn't get most of it. Hardly any of it actually... I guess he's just too clever for any of us to understand."

He looked down sadly at Clint. "You would have laughed at that."

The door opened quietly and Bruce walked in, his eyes narrowing in pity as his gaze found Clint.

"How is he?" He asked quietly, stopping beside Pietro.

"I'm not sure. I don't think he's in pain." Pietro murmured, gently laying Clint's hand back down beside him. "He's still unconscious though." He looked worriedly up at Bruce and echoed the question in his mind. "Shouldn't he have woken up by now?"

Bruce didn't answer, putting his hand on Clint's heart to check its rate. He quickly drew it back as Clint stirred; rolling his head to the centre so his face was looking to the ceiling. He coughed weakly a few times before blinking open his eyes.

"Banner?" He croaked, looking up at the scientist.

"Evening." Bruce murmured, inspiring a short, weak breath of laughter from Clint.

The archer pushed his hands against the bed, struggling up into a sitting position with only the use of his arms, dragging his legs with him and leaning with his back against the wall. He soon noticed that Bruce was looking at him curiously, like he was assessing his health.

"What?"

Bruce jumped, as if Clint had disrupted a deep thought. He stuttered around for a moment, attempting to speak, before pausing and taking in a silent breath. "I… Think there might be a way to make you… not paralysed."

Clint blinked in astonishment and Pietro quickly snapped his attention to Bruce, who was looking awkward.

"How?" Clint asked, looking intently up at Bruce.

"It's a risky operation." Bruce warned. "Especially when you're as weak as you are. You-" He broke off, debating on whether to tell him or not. "You could die. In fact… there's a rather high chance you will."

Clint looked up at him, straight into his eyes. "I would rather die than live like this."

Pietro's breath caught in his throat as he saw the seriousness in Clint's expression.

"Clint, think about it." Bruce urged. "I don't think you-"

"I've made my choice." Clint interrupted him.

"Maybe you should wait." Pietro murmured quietly, agreeing with Bruce's concern. "Until you get your strength back."

"I can't." Clint replied simply. "I just can't. I can't deal with this anymore, not being able to feel anything."

Bruce exchanged a glance with Pietro. The younger man gave him a small nod, confirming Clint's seriousness. He knew what it was like not being able to move. It was terrifying.

"Okay." Bruce sighed the word. "Okay, I'll get it sorted. You'll have to come to another room with the right equipment though." He added.

Clint nodded, "Thank you."


"I'm afraid you can't stay in the room while the procedure is taking place."

Pietro dipped his head in understanding to the doctor. "I know."

He cast a look over his shoulder. Through the large glass window on the wall behind him, he could see Clint, lying on his side in a hospital bed. As Pietro watched, a doctor approached the archer. Clint said something and the doctor motioned towards the window where Pietro was.

Raising his head slightly, Clint cast a weak smile at Pietro and lifted his fingers a fraction. Pietro returned his smile and nodded reassuringly.

Clint dropped his head back down and exhaled a long breath. Bruce walked up to him.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked for about the millionth time.

He was holding an oxygen mask in his hand, a tube attached to it, leading to a tank of what was, presumably, anaesthetic.

Clint nodded and Bruce, finally seeming to accept Clint's certainty, didn't question him again. He carefully lifted the mask over Clint's mouth. Clint took in a mouthful of the cold, sweet air and immediately felt his eyelids beginning to close. All feeling of pain was vaporised as his eyes flickered shut. His body relaxed and he fell into darkness.


Pietro was stood outside the room, watching through the glass window.

The doctors milled around Clint, working in complete silence. Bruce was in there too, flicking through notes, glancing up occasionally to fix Clint with a worried look.

Pietro caught his breath as one of the doctors made an incision to the back of Clint's neck. The other doctors busied themselves trying to control the bleeding. Even from a distance Pietro could see the blood. It made his neck feel oddly exposed.

He could see one of the doctors, holding some tweezers, carefully moving them about in the cut at the back of Clint's neck. After a while, a dim, yet high pitched, beeping noise sounded in Pietro's ears, growing increasing faster. He was beginning to think he was imagining it but the doctors clearly heard it too. They all stiffened, turning their gazes to Clint.

The archer's chest was rising and falling quickly, drawing in short gasping breaths. His unconscious form was shaking violently, his body convulsing as the spasms shook him. Pietro ran in, unknowingly using his power. He skidded to a halt in the room, between Clint's bed and the door, and arms quickly wrapped around his torso, holding him back. It was Bruce.

"Keep back." He warned. "Just let the doctor's deal with it."

"No, no, no…" Pietro whispered despairingly, not taking his eyes off Clint as the doctors rushed around his bed.

His legs were trembling, shaking with the effort of standing after using his power. Bruce didn't notice until Pietro suddenly fell limp in his hold. The beeping was fast and loud now, vibrating through Bruce's ears as he staggered under Pietro's weight. As he lowered Pietro, so the younger man was on his hands and knees, he noticed the beeping slow and falter.

He straightened up, abandoning Pietro and racing to Clint's side. The archer's breathing was still elevated but slowing rapidly and his body was motionless once more, apart from the faint movement of his chest as he breathed. A doctor was fumbling around in the incision, flashing a quick glance at Bruce before silently continuing his work.

Hearing a pained grunting noise behind him, Bruce spun round. Pietro was scrambling to his feet, swaying slightly as he stood. He shook away the dizziness with a twitch of his head and immediately ran up to Clint.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked quietly, feeling like he had to lower his voice even though he knew Clint couldn't be woken by noise.

Pietro nodded, his eyes fixed on Clint. "Fine."

A quiet sigh was exhaled from his lips and he reached out a hand, gently stroking back Clint's hair.

"Is he going to be okay?" He asked, looking at Bruce.

The scientist nodded. "I'll make sure he is."