It's the weekend, time to update something. This week, it's Stroll. The Avengers still aren't mine.

TT: I figure there's plenty of room at the tower, so I decided to help fill it with a menagerie. Glad you like.

Sandy-wmd: Yup. Couldn't see Maria with a cute, fluffy kitty. I figure her for an 'underdog' ('undercat'?) sort of person who would have a soft spot for the outcast.

awhisperthroughthewinds: Sorry to make your family question your sanity, but I'm glad to hear that my tale made you laugh. As for Bruce, someone had to say it, and it's usually the quiet ones who say what no one else will.

nightmoon1024: Yeah. Kitty Fury. I just got this image in my mind of this tough old fighter cat.

The Red Fedora: Interesting how animals adapt so easily to things like that, isn't it

kali rogers: Glad you'll make an exception for Cat. After all, he won't be shedding on you or clawing your furniture.

Thanks so much to all those who took the time to review. I love to hear your thoughts, what you liked, what make you giggle, or even just that you enjoyed it. I also appreciated the favorites and follows, since I figure that that means that you like it.

This next chapter is pretty fluff free. In fact, I think it's probably downright angsty, but hopefully, you'll still enjoy it.

Stroll 12

Steve sat in the hospital waiting room staring at the blood on his hands, trying to understand how he came to be here. They worked for SHIELD. Danger and risks were an accepted part of the job. He had always known that she could be injured on the job. Field work was dangerous. Even headquarters wasn't entirely safe, as history had proven.

But dinner should be safe. At a very upscale restaurant, too. One with a dress code.

He looked down. His jacket, shirt and tie were all smeared with blood.

Her blood.

After several weeks with both of them being on the road in various different locales, they both finally ended up back in New York at the same time and he had invited her to dinner. Wanting the evening to be extra special after so long apart, he had asked Pepper to recommend a really nice restaurant.

Though he had never been a big fan of the suit and tie, he had decided it was well worth it when he crossed the hall to pick her up from her apartment at the Avenger's Tower. The pale blue dress was a perfect complement to her fair skin and up swept dark hair. The neckline was just low enough to tempt him to look without actually revealing anything more than it should. The dress itself hugged her curves, flaring out at the waist before ending slightly above her knees, leaving a long expanse of shapely legs ending in heels that he considered almost dangerously high.

When he mentioned that, she laughed.

"But they've certainly drawn your attention to my legs," she commented. He had to give her that.

The restaurant was everything that Pepper had promised and then some. The waiters were attentive without hovering, affording them their privacy but quickly and efficiently fulfilling their every need. The food and wine were excellent and conversation smooth and easy, punctuated often with laughter as they caught up on time spent apart.

A scuffle at the door drew their attention. Four men burst in, sweeping their guns around the room as they spread out. One man fired into the ceiling, making sure he had the attention of everyone.

"Here's the deal," he told them. "My colleagues will be passing among you with bags. Please deposit all wallets, purses, jewelry and any other valuables you may have on you."

Steve turned to look at Maria, noticing her hands moving under the table for a few moments before she placed her small blue clutch on the table. He was concerned that the robbers would see her SHIELD identification and try somehow use her position to their advantage. Her small smile eased his concern, letting him know that she had concealed it on her person.

One of the group arrived at their table, grabbing up Maria's purse and gesturing for Steve to hand over his wallet and watch. As he waited, he eyed the woman, noting the small, pendant necklace and simple gold studs that made up her only jewelry.

"Boyfriend too cheap to buy you stuff?" he asked with a sneer.

"Her boyfriend thinks she's beautiful as she is," Steve responded.

The crook looked back at Maria. "You need to find yourself a real man who'll treat you right," he told her, leaning close to try to peek down her cleavage.

"You mean a stud like you who terrorizes people and steals what they've worked hard for instead of getting a job and earning a living for yourself?" she taunted.

He raised his hand to slap her and Steve shifted in his seat. The man's attention was drawn to him. Something in the Captain's demeanor froze his motion. Instead, he reached over and grabbed her necklace, dropping it in his bag and motioning again for Steve's watch. Steve dropped it in, shooting Maria a warning look as the man finally moved on to the next table.

Both watched the men move quickly through the dining room, fighting down the urge to act. They knew that the most important thing was that no one got hurt. The things could be replaced.

It looked as though the ordeal would end soon, but a small disturbance broke out at a nearby table.

"I'm trying," the elderly woman told the thug standing at the table, "but it just won't come off." She held up her hand, showing him the swollen knuckles that prevented the removal of the large, diamond ring she wore. "I haven't been able to get it off in years," she explained, tugging desperately at the bauble.

The older gentleman with her took her hand, trying to help ease it off, but it wouldn't pass her arthritic joint.

The crook slammed his hand on the table, making her jump.

"If you can't get it off, I will," he told her, reaching over to grab the steak knife from her plate.

As he grabbed for her hand, Maria and Steve both moved, but Maria was a little faster. Her fist connected with the man's jaw and he dropped like a stone. Across the room, the leader raised his pistol.

"Everyone down!" Steve yelled, as the man fired off two shots.

Steve changed his direction, slamming into one of the other gunmen and knocking him to the floor. He picked up a serving tray that had been dropped to the floor, hefting it for a moment to test it's weight and balance.

It wasn't his shield, but it would do. He sent it spinning across the room. It caught the leader in the side of the head and he dropped to the floor. A nearby waiter immediately jumped on his back, holding him down. The final gunman looked around, then quickly knelt down, sliding his gun across the floor and holding his hands over his head in surrender.

"The police are on their way," the maitre d' called out.

Steve rushed over to kneel beside Maria, lying face down on the floor. He called her name as he gently turned her over, pulling her close.

'Funny,' he thought, 'I don't remember those red flowers on her dress.'

He reached out to touch one of the spots, though his nose had already told him what it was.

Wet. Sticky.

Not quite believing what he was seeing, he cradled her close, calling her name and encouraging her to open her eyes.

The elderly woman sat up from the flat position she had assumed when the shooting had started and scooted over next to them as she called to her husband.

"You alright, Hawkeye?"

"Fine. You?" he replied, making his way around the table.

"I'm okay, but this young woman was hit," she told him. She observed the scene, then hollered to a nearby waiter.

"We need some clean towels over here! Now!"

He jumped, startled by her air of command, and hurried to grab several clean napkins off an unused, nearby table. She quickly folded them into thick pads.

"You need to lay her flat on the ground," she instructed Steve.

When he didn't respond, the older man reached over, touching him on the shoulder.

"Son." Steve finally looked up at him. "If you can lay her down flat, we can take a look at her."

"Are you a doctor?" Steve asked, gently placing her on the floor.

The woman pressed the pads she had created to cover the wounds as her husband reached for Maria's hand, wrapping his gnarled fingers around her wrist.

"Retired, now, but did it for a whole lot of years. Few of 'em in a war zone." He nodded towards his wife. "Margaret here is the best nurse I every worked with."

She snorted, then grabbed Steve's hand. "What's your name?"

"Steve," he replied. "And this is Maria."

"I need for you to keep pressure on this. My hands aren't as strong as they used to be."

"Yes, ma'am."

Turning back to her husband, she asked, "How's her pulse?"

"Weak," he told her, "but steady." He leaned forward, turning his head to better listen to her breathing. "Breathing sounds a little off." He looked to where her wounds were. "Probably hit her lung."

Margaret nodded, carefully sliding her hand under the unconscious woman. "Not finding any signs of exit wounds," she told them. She placed her hand on top of Steve's. "You're doing just fine."

He looked up at her, offering a quavery smile. "Thank you."

At that moment, the police arrived. As soon as they pronounced the scene to be secure, the paramedics rushed in behind them. One stopped to check on the leader, just starting to come around from being clocked by Steve's improvised shield.

"We've got a gunshot wound over here!" Margaret called out, prompting another of the medics to hurry to their side. As he knelt to check her vitals, he nodded towards the still unconscious crook on the floor.

"What hit him?"

"She did," the older woman replied, sounding almost proud of the girl.

The medic hollered for a gurney, listening carefully to the retired doctor and his wife as he checked the patient over. In a matter of a few moments, they had her loaded on the gurney and headed out the door. Steve started to follow, then turned to offer a hand to the woman.

She waved him off. "Go with your girl, Steve," her husband told him. "We'll rest here for a minute."

"Thank you both," he told them.

"And thanks to your Maria," Margaret replied, waggling her fingers at him.

He nodded and dashed out, climbing into the ambulance just as they were about to close the doors. On the ride, he gently stroked her hair as he watched the paramedics efficiently working to stabilize her. At the hospital, they jumped out, rushing her down the corridor, Steve close behind.

"OR 2 is waiting," the nurse told them as they headed through a set of swinging doors. She grabbed Steve as he started to follow. "You can't go back there," she told him. He stared at her, then at the doors, finally nodding.

"Is there someone you need to call?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he answered, patting his pockets, "but my cell phone is still at the restaurant."

"There's a phone in the waiting room," she told him, leading the way into an area filled with cozy chairs and tables arranged in small groups. A television droned quietly in the corner, but the room was otherwise silent and empty. She pointed to the phone. "You can make your calls here and I'll be right back with some paperwork we need you to fill out."

He thanked her and sat down, staring at the phone and wondering who he should call. Finally, he dialed Coulson's number. When it went directly to voice mail, he hung up without leaving a message. What would he say? After thinking a moment, he dialed another number.

"Fury."

Steve struggled for words.

"Who the hell is this?"

"Captain Rogers, sir," he finally managed. Something in his voice caught Fury's attention.

"What's wrong, Rogers? Where are you?"

Steve looked around, not sure what hospital they had been brought to. When the nurse came in with a clipboard of paperwork, he glanced at it.

"Methodist Central Hospital, sir," he replied, looking to the nurse for confirmation. She nodded. "Maria's been shot."

"Shot?" Fury roared. "I thought you were going out to dinner."

"Yes, sir, we did. There was a holdup and she got shot."

"How is she?" the director interrupted.

"I'm not sure, sir. She took a couple of bullets. She's unconscious and they've taken her into surgery. Now, I'm just waiting and filling out papers. I tried to call Coulson, but there was no answer."

"Okay," Fury answered. The initial shock had passed and he was back in 'take charge' mode. "You just sit tight and I'll take care of things. Let me know if anything changes."

"Will do, sir," Steve replied. "I don't have my cell phone, but there's a phone here in the waiting area." He read the number off, then ended the call and started on the paper work. When he had filled out as much of the information as he could, he walked it over to the nurse.

"Any news yet?" he asked her.

She smiled sympathetically as she shook her head. "They're just getting started. I'll let you know as soon as I know anything."

"Thank you, ma'am," he told her, returning to his seat. He alternated his time between praying and pacing the area. Seated with his head in his hands, he became aware of a presence and looked up to find a young man standing in front of him.

He jumped up. "Maria?"

The young nurse shook his head. "Sorry, no news yet. I just thought you might want to change," he said, holding out a clean scrub shirt and a plastic bag given to patients for their personal belongings. Steve looked down at himself, noting again the crimson stains on his jacket, shirt, and tie.

"I don't know," he answered, looking toward the door that Maria had disappeared behind.

"There's a bathroom right over there," the other man told him, pointing to a door. "It will only take a couple of minutes." Steve still didn't look convinced. "I'll come and get you if there's any word."

Finally, Steve took the items and headed into the bathroom. He quickly stripped to the waist, stuffing the ruined clothing into the bag. He turned on the hot water, washing his hands and chest where her blood had seeped through his shirt, watching the red water swirl its way down the drain. He slipped the top on. It was a little snug, but it was clean.

He returned to the waiting area and thanked the young man, asking where he could dispose of his blood stained garments. He had no desire to ever see them again. The man said he would take care of them and left, bag in hand.

Alone with his thoughts again, Steve resumed his pacing, observing the people coming and going. He watched a woman approach the nurse's station. She was tall and slender, probably in her mid fifties with closely cropped dark hair and deep chocolate skin.

"My name is Dr. Charlotte Adair," she told the nurse, handing her and ID badge. "I was told that one of my patients was brought in. A woman by the name of Maria Hill?"

Steve's gaze went back to her. He didn't recall ever seeing her before.

The nurse checked her ID against her computer, then handed it back. "She's in OR2, Dr. Adair. Dr. Chu is the surgeon, if you'd like to observe."

The doctor nodded, then turned towards the doors, only to run into the wall that was Steve Rogers.

"Excuse me," she said, moving to step around him. He stepped into her path again.

"Just when have you treated Maria Hill?" he asked her, resting a warning hand on her arm.

She glared at him a moment, then pulled out her phone. "Rogers, right?" she asked as she waited for the call to connect.

"Yes, ma'am."

When someone answered, she spoke into the mouthpiece. "Yeah, I'm here to check on our girl, but Captain Protective doesn't want to let me pass." She listened a moment, then handed the phone to Steve.

"Hello?" he said curiously.

"Fury here," a voice barked. "Stand down, Rogers."

"Yes, sir," he replied, immediately stepping aside to allow the woman to pass. "Your phone!" he hollered at her as she passed through the swinging doors.

"I'll get it later," she called over her shoulder.

When he realized Fury was still talking, he raised the phone back to his ear. "I'm sorry sir. You were saying?"

"I was asking why the hell you were interfering with Dr. Adair?" Fury repeated, sounding quite angry.

Steve ran his free hand through his hair. "Because she came in here saying that she was Maria's doctor and I had never seen her before. I know that Maria's position with SHIELD means that there are those out there who would seek to harm her. I figure we should be careful who we let around her when she can't protect herself."

Nick sigh sounded over the line. "True. Dr. Adair worked for SHIELD for over 20 years. She semi-retired about 5 years ago." He cleared his throat, then continued. "She's also my wife."

"Then I'll trust that Maria is in good, safe hands," Steve answered.

After another promise to keep him updated, Steve ended the call. The next distraction came with the arrival of Phil Coulson.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

"No word yet," Steve told him.

Phil sat down next to him. "So, what exactly happened?"

Steve proceeded to tell him the whole story. "I tried to call you first, but there was no answer," he told the other man.

"Meeting," Phil explained. "Nick got ahold of me and told me what he knew."

"I'm surprised that the police haven't shown up yet to talk to me," Steve commented.

Phil reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "I stopped by the restaurant and talked to the investigator. He said to give him a call when things settle down. He'd like to talk to you both. The names and number on the back are an older couple that he was talking to. They asked if we could let them know how she's doing." He pulled several more items from his pocket and handed them to Steve. "I also got your phone and wallet and Maria's purse."

Steve took the items, staring at them for a moment. "I forgot to pay," he mumbled.

Phil started to tell him not to worry about it, but then realized who he was talking to. "You can go talk to them later," he told the other man. He then looked at his watch, then at the OR door. "I hope everything's going okay," he muttered.

"Me, too," Steve echoed, his gaze following Phil's. "Dr. Adair is in with her," he added.

"Good," Phil nodded. "She used to be with SHIELD."

"Yes," Steve replied. "Director Fury informed me of that."

"In fact," Phil told him, "She was one of the main doctors on Maria's case when she first joined us. They got to be pretty close."

Finally, the closely watched doors swung open and Dr. Adair and another man in scrubs walked out. Steve and Phil both rose to meet them. Phil stepped over and wrapped an arm around the lady doctor.

"Good to see you, Charlotte."

"You too, Phil," she replied, returning his embrace. "I just wish it wasn't like this." She turned to the other doctor. "This is Doctor Chu. He performed the surgery."

Steve reached out to shake his hand. "How is she doing, doctor?" he asked.

"I'm cautiously optimistic," the doctor told them. "One of the bullets nicked her spleen which caused a lot of bleeding. I think we got the bleeding stopped and that the organ will recover. The other cracked a couple of ribs, then lodged in her lung. We removed it, but I am a bit concerned. There's already some scar tissue there, so she may be a bit more susceptible to infection or complications, so we're wanting to keep a close eye on her for a few days."

"Scar tissue?" Steve asked.

"Damage from the jet fuel fumes from the crash," Charlotte explained.

Dr. Chu's pager went off and he glanced at it, smiling tiredly as he excused himself and headed over to the nurse's desk.

"She's in recovery now, but they're getting a room ready for her," Charlotte told them. "If you'd like, we can go down there and wait for them to bring her in."

When the two men nodded, the led them to a room. After a long wait, they finally rolled the bed in, taking several minutes to get all the machines and monitors properly positioned and hooked up. When everything was in place, the nurse made a few notes on her chart.

"The doctor will be in shortly," she told them, as she nodded, then left.

Nervously, Steve stepped to Maria's side. She looked so pale, he was almost afraid to touch her. On the other side of the bed, Phil leaned over the railing, grasping her hand.

"Nice and warm," he commented, looking over at Steve. The soldier let out the breath he had been holding and reached out to stroke her face.

Warm. Alive. He thought he saw her eyelids flutter and her lips turned up slightly behind the oxygen mask.

There was a light tap on the door, then it swung open. Tony Stark poked his head in. "Guess this is where the party is," he commented, entering the room. Bucky padded in quietly behind him.

"What brings you here, Stark?" Steve asked.

"JARVIS monitors the city emergency bands and let me know what had happened. I had Claire pack a bag with some toiletries and some clothes for each of you, since I figured you'd be staying with her."

"Thanks," Steve told him, reaching out to take the bags.

"How's she doing?" Tony asked, his voice serious.

"It was pretty bad, but the surgeon said he's optimistic," Steve told him.

"And you?" Tony asked.

The Captain reached over and stroked her cheek again. "Much better now."

Charlotte cleared her throat. "I don't know that your dog should be in here."

Stark looked over at the dog, who had crossed over to nudge at Steve. "He's not my dog. He's Steve's dog. Besides, he's a certified therapy dog," he told her, indicating the dog's vest.

With Bucky's excellent obedience and gentle manner, he had quickly earned his therapy dog certification and often accompanied Steve on his visits to local VA facilities.

The dog went up on his hind legs, resting his front paws on the bed as he studied the occupant. He sniffed at her, then looked up at Steve.

"She's going to be okay," he assured the animal. "She'll be home before you know it."

Satisfied with that, Bucky settled himself by one of the chairs.

Steve looked in the bag that Tony had brought in and pulled out a t-shirt. "I think I'm going to change. This top is a little tight," he told them, stepping into the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed, Tony turned to Dr. Adair. "She's really going to be alright?" he asked.

"No guarantees," she told him. "There are always things that can happen, but she's strong and has an excellent chance to make a full recovery."

"If she needs anything, anything at all, Stark Industries will cover it," he told her. "Money is no object."

"SHIELD takes care of our own," Coulson told him.

"And the Avengers take care of our own," Tony answered him. "And she is one of ours, too. Just like you. And we have some resources that SHIELD doesn't, so I just want to make sure she gets the best possible care."

Coulson nodded as Steve stepped back into the room.

"Thanks again for bringing our stuff, Tony," the soldier told him. "And for bringing Bucky."

"Not a problem," the billionaire replied with a dismissive wave. "I thought about trying to smuggle in Furry, but decided that he would be much less cooperative than Bucky, here. Besides, I like my flesh intact."

"Furry?" Charlotte asked.

"Maria's cat," Tony explained to her. "Rescued street cat that she picked up at the shelter a few months back. He's ugly as sin, big and black, all scars and attitude and missing one eye. He reminds us of her boss, guy by the name of Fury, so we call the cat Furry."

"Is that right?" she asked, her eyebrow raised.

Coulson choked back a laugh.

"Actually," Steve hurried to interject, his name is 'Cat'. That's what most of us call him."

"Only when she's around," Tony corrected, nodding towards the woman in the bed. "Otherwise, he's most definitely 'Furry'."

"Who's furry?" a deep voice interrupted.

Everyone looked up as Nick Fury stepped through the door.

Tony's eyes went wide. "Agent Hill's cat," he answered quickly. "His name is Cat, but he's a furry cat."

Nick stepped over to Charlotte, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. She smiled up at him. "Apparently, she adopted a torn up, blind old tom cat that reminds them of someone."

"Really?" Nick's glare circled the room, coming to rest on Stark.

Tony glanced at his watch. "Look at the time. Gotta run. Besides, I'm sure she needs to rest." He sidled towards the door. "Let me know if you need anything, Cap," he called as he made a quick exit.

Nick stepped to the foot of the bed, studying the monitors before turning his gaze to the young agent he and his wife had come to consider family. He placed a hand on her foot, rubbing it gently.

"She's really going to be okay?" he asked.

"Her odds are really good," his wife answered, stepping close to wrap her arms around him.

Maria struggled to lift her eyelids. She slowly looked around.

Steve on one side. Her hand warm in his.

Phil on the other. His hand also holding hers.

Nick and Charlotte at the foot of her bed, the weight of his hand touching her.

She let her eyes drift closed again, drifting in the warm comfort of their voices and touch.

Family.

Wow. That ended up being longer than I had planned. Thanks for taking the time to get through it. I hope that you enjoyed it and would really appreciate it you would post a review to let me know what you thought. I believe 'Risks' is next in the rotation, so make sure you're caught up on that as well.

Love ya' all!