Chapter 4 -Final Chapter!-

He didn't like blood. It felt oozy and sticky and unnaturally hot between his fingers. When he had the unfortunate need to encounter a bleeding Steve Rogers, the Hulk found it terribly distasteful to come across the substance. He'd quickly deposited it on the back of Hawkeye's shirt then. This time, there was nowhere for him to go. Hawkeye lay across his arms, very injured indeed, and the Hulk had agreed to carry him off.

The gamma green eyes fell on the semi-conscious man in his arms. The first time Clint had been hurt, he hardly cared at all. Over time the strange Hawk-guy had grown on him in a way he hardly allowed others to. Perhaps it was because out of the entire team, Clint was the only one of them that never for a moment showed the slightest fear of him. Even when they worked together as Hulk and man, the stout fellow often poked fun at him, or jabbed him. Some considered him crazy, but the Hulk couldn't decide what to think himself.

As he trotted along the streets of New York toward the closest ER, he poked the ragdoll in his arms with a single over-sized finger.

"Bird turned red." The Hulk said, pulling his stained index away to wipe on his ripped pants.

"Bird . . . hurt." Hawkeye pointed out.

His eyes had shut somewhere between the mall and the current alley. Hulk slowed with the advent of a strange emotion ebbing into him . . . was it concern? With the Hawk's body cradled between his left arm and his body, he used his right hand to steadily rock him.

"Stupid bird, wake up!" he ordered.

Two blue spheres dulled with blood loss attempted to focus on him. "Poke . . . me again . . . and I'm going . . . to steal your . . . pants."

Hawkeye's threats tended to be just as humorous as they were empty. The green goliath smirked, walking forward again to the tune of a populace full of screaming men and women who scattered in his wake. Traditionally this would send him into a frustrated rage but with Hawkeye to focus on, his panic diffused.

"Stupid threat." He replied, looking around for another blue H sign like the ones he had been following.

"Your . . . face is . . . stupid."

"Stupid bow."

"My bow is . . . amazing. Your . . . your hair is . . . stupid."

"Your hair stupid."

The Hulk spotted the sign and bounded toward it. He could spy the building at the end of the next four blocks. Despite the disgusting red stick that now coated his chest, he imagined the Hawk would survive until he reached the doors.

"You shot. You stupid."

"I saved you. You're . . . stupid."

"Hulk take care of self."

"Hulk destroy mall." The blue eyes reemerged beneath the dark eyelashes. Clint groaned a little as he panted and readjusted in the Hulk's arm. "I'm your . . . friend. I don't want people . . . to keep hating you."

Another troublesome fact he dealt with in Hawkeye included the way he made the Hulk think. Life was much simpler when all he had to do in a day was decide how and where to smash the world. But Clint wanted things out of him. Like problem solving. Hulk didn't care if people liked him or hated him. He just wanted people to go away. Even now they ran screaming from him in all directions. Cars slowed or screeched to a halt in the streets as the populace watched him go by.

But something changed this time. Those who ran screaming away inexplicably returned again though they kept a healthy distance from him. In the arms of women, were their children. All looked up in bright-eyed wonderment at the sheer size of the Hulk stalking by. The men and women stopped in their cars leaned forward, cameras in hand as they photographed his every move. Nothing came sailing toward him. No one raised their guns in alarm. The Hulk was simply admired from a suitable distance.

"You . . . are intentionally . . . walking slow . . . aren't you."

The Hulk had been so distracted by the strange acceptance of the people around him he'd completely forgotten about the Hawk bleeding in his arms.

"Hulk not want hurt Hawk worse."

"How . . . civil of you."

"People seem like ok with Hulk." The gamma green creature wasn't sure why he shared his observations out loud. Did this mean he admitted Clint had somehow worked to alter the Hulk's image? Did people fear him a little less now and for that matter, did they intend to stop chasing him so much?

"Course they are. You're . . . just a big . . . radiated teddy . . . bear."

"Stop talking, stupid."

"I will not." Hawkeye replied defiantly, but thought better of his steadfast resilience and collapsed a little more into the Hulk's grasp.

"Bird?"

Clint did not respond.

Ignoring the people, the Hulk quickened his pace a little. He even raised a finger, poised to poke Clint again and incur the archer's wrath.

"Bird stop talking."

Clint's eyes remained closed as his head lolled between the Hulk's bicep and pectorals. His face had gone pale and then grey. He did not respond to the giant's continued calls and even as the beast quickened more, Hawkeye remained unconscious.

"Stupid bird! You no die! Hulk save bird, so bird not die!"

The brick entrance to the hospital lumbered toward them. With two mighty bounds, the Hulk made it outside the front door, and then swiftly smashed his way inside through the glass entranceway. The entire waiting room full of patients thrust to their feet at the sight of him, one of whom at the present resided on a gurney. Whatever seemed to ail the patient at first miraculously left him as he too rushed to evacuate the presence of the Hulk. With the procured gurney close at hand, the Hulk spilled Clint onto the mattress.

He glared at the staff cowering behind the center desk. One meaty finger rose first to them before cutting an arc through the air and ended at Hawkeye.

"You help." He ordered. No room remained for discussion.

Four heads bobbed in unison. One cautiously reached for a phone pager.

Beneath the end of his index finger his fellow Avenger began to chuckle. The eyes opened again and he smirked toward the Hulk.

"Got ya."

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