A/N: Okay, I almost forgot to get this done, but I promised, so here it is. (There was a bomb threat at my school today. It was pretty awesome. And distracting.) Thanks to everyone who reviewed (and a special shout out to blackcat711, who I couldn't reply to because they have their private messaging feature turned off!), I certainly hope this chapter meets all your expectations. (This was originally the first third of a huge chapter, but I just didn't have time to write it all out in one go and I didn't want to keep you waiting, so I split it into two, with the second half taking up all the action. Sorry this is so short and pitiful.)

Natasha and Clint had reached a terse understanding; he would remain in bed until she said otherwise, and he wouldn't be restrained again. For a time she had amused him with anecdotes and dry humour, but was constantly being called out of the room with updates on the Loki situation. Clint, bored but obedient, had taken to counting individual ceiling tiles in his room.

There were 47. One was missing. Clint couldn't help but wonder where it had gone.

The door slid open and Clint snapped to attention.

"Hey," Natasha hummed, sliding the door shut again. She had some kind of fancy Stark Industries tablet device in one hand, the universal 'call waiting' symbol flashing through the glass. "Got a call for you." She passed the tablet over, opening the call before letting go.

The face that came up on screen was half swollen, eye and cheek various shades of yellow, purple, and blue, but clearly recogniseable to the marksman as the face of Molly Hunter (quite possibly the only interesting person on base during the Tesseract Experiments, if Clint had any say).

"Hey, Barton," she chortled, "good to see you. Enjoying bed rest?"

"Hey, I'll black your other eye if you aren't careful with that lip, Hunter," he joked. "How'd you get that eye anyway?" Hunter rubbed at her bruise, wincing at the self-inflicted pain it brought.

"I displaced into a broken rail."

Clint blinked. "Displaced."

"Oh yeah, it's like teleporting." A moment passed silently, the two staring at each other over their mobile devices. "I can do that now."

"Okay, sure. I think you might have damaged your brain on that rail, Hunter."

"Hey, I'm already at the hospital! SHIELD set me up at that Presbyterian University Hospital. Private room and everything." She flipped her camera about, showing a shot of the side of the room away from the hospital bed – she wasn't sitting in it, but next to it, in what Clint assumed to be some kind of defiance – before flipping it back.

"What? I'm still on the carrier. This is bullshit!" Clint chortled in barely believable anger.

"You have a private room, Barton." Natasha crowed.

"Yeah, right, private brooms closet more like it." Clint looked down at the tablet, rolling his eyes at Hunter, who mimicked the motion with a look of understanding.

"You can always share my room, Barton. Cable." Hunter waved a remote in the view of the camera. Clint hummed, finger to his chin in mock thought.

"I'll have to take you up on that."

"And that's all the time Agent Barton has today," Natasha claimed, grasping the tablet and holding it up to her face. "Take care, Hunter."

"Will do." A brief salute, a cheeky smile, and Hunter was gone, replaced with a garish Stark Industries logo and a time stamp.

"You look better," Natasha said finally, reaching a hand to feel Clint's forehead.

Clint smirked, "What d'ya think, Doc? Am I well enough to go out and play with the other kids?" Natasha gave him one of her rare, real smiled before smacking him lightly on the head and returning to her stoicism.

"Play nice."

I wouldn't call myself an expert on hospitals, but this was definitely the nicest one I'd ever been in. A private room, clean but not with that chemical smell, cable TV, a little stocked mini bar like in hotels. I was in heaven, and totally glad I could brag to Barton about it.

I had been given strict orders not to mention to him, or to anyone for that matter, that the room wasn't mine, however, but Coulson's.

"Is Supernanny on?" 'Christ, the guy got out of surgery only a couple of hours ago and he's already weaving in and out of consciousness.'

"I don't know, hero, let me check." I flicked from channel to channel as quickly as I dared, smiling at Coulson from the (surprisingly comfortable) chair by his bedside. He rolled his eyes at me.

"It's Agent to you."

"Oh, c'mon, you love it." I gave a victorious woop as I reached a channel actually playing the British reality show. "Besides, you deserve it, Agent."

For a moment, I thought he had fallen unconscious. I slumped down into my chair.

"You're right, I like hero better." I laughed out loud at him, louder than I had since this thing had all started, and it actually startled me. Luckily, the ringing of the Stark phone one of the SHIELD agents guarding the door had given me provided an ample distraction.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Houdini, what's up?"

"Tony?" I squeaked. "How did you get this number?"

"Is that Stark?" Coulson groaned. I flapped a hand out over his face, attempting cover his mouth but probably just covering his nose or something.

"Lucky guess. A little birdie told me you're in New York."

I sat up straighter in my chair, business face on. "What's this about?"

"Something going to go down in New York, and everyone's about to be in a lot of danger. If there's anyone to get the injured to safe places fast, it's you."

I sputtered into my phone. "What do you expect me to do, I'm not a doctor, and I can't displace everyone in New York-"

"Then take them to a place where they can find and doctor," Tony emphasised, "just do whatever you can." I could hear the faint sound of some kind of thrusters in the background.

"Tony, what-"

"Actually, I'm Ironman right now," he replied, "and I've really got to go."

"Okay-" The line beeped in response.

I dropped the phone, still utterly confused. "What the hell?"

"What'd he want?" Coulson muffled around my hand, which I swiftly removed. I spared a glance at his heart rate monitor, beeping softly on the other side of his bed.

"He wants me to do boring, monotonous, difficult errands."

"Sounds like him."

"Get some rest, hero. I'll be back." I patted his knee once, grabbed the bag with my spare uniform and shuffled out into the hallway, catching the attention of the SHIELD agents standing guard.

"I need an empty room; no patients, no nurses, no furniture; somewhere I can land safely. Call any staff that aren't busy and get them ready to receive patients from that room. Shit is about to go down and everyone should be prepared. I'll also need a place to suit up.

A/N: Ugh, I should write more but it's so late and I just don't have time, and this was the only good place in the chapter I could split it. The next chapter has all the action, though, so hopefully that more than makes up for this pitiful update. Again, all reviews are greatly appreciated!