A short one this time, but I think you're gonna like it! Also, I do have a legitimate excuse this time, having to do with moving across the country, but we all know you don't really want to hear it. So picking up where we left off...

They set up the triage center at the base of Stark Tower, partly because it was convenient, but mostly because it was easy to find. Asa had never quite realized before how much periphery damage there was when superheroes romped through the city. From the initial event alone, she had spent nearly an hour dealing with broken bones, gashes, and most importantly, shock. Several smashed windows and a handful of truly nasty car-crashes later, she had lost track of time.

She'd arranged to have a few helpful souls bring anything useful they could find to the wide, well-trimmed lawn, including a few camp beds, a large awning that Asa wondered what Tony would ever use for, and a truly impressive array of medical equipment. More than anything, though, she was grateful for the medical personnel who had materialized. She was fairly sure that some of these people were S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors, and there were a couple of nurses as well, but none of them seemed to want to take charge of anything, so Asa decided to keep things moving, resident or not. She flitted from one patient to the next, discharging some, sending the most dangerously wounded on the few ambulances that made it through the blocked streets to real hospitals. Some were too wounded to be moved immediately, and these Asa did her best to stabilize. Once, when an ambulance worker tried to snatch a man with a severed artery out of her hands before she was finished, she snarled at him wordlessly. A very small, tired part of her brain noted with some surprise that she must be tired, but it wasn't very loud, and easily drowned out by the next round of sirens.

Most of the injuries were from the car crashes. She patched up arms and legs and bandaged ribs; she told people to lay back and drink plenty of water; she checked for concussion and told person after person that Nurse Whoever-It-Is-This-Time would take care of them. She would've thought, after the first hour or two, that she would've been finishing up, but apparently wherever the Avengers went, havoc followed. She didn't mind too much, actually. At least it was hard, mind-numbing work, the kind that didn't let her stop to wonder why she deliberately gave one sniffling little boy Aspirin instead of the much-safer Ibuprofen. A woman and her daughter were both passed over for stitches, even though they clearly needed them; Asa for some reason just could not bear the thought of pulling the sterilized thread through their skin. She sent them on the next ambulance to the hospital. When a frantic man in a ballcap ran up to her and grabbed her shoulder, she knew who he was looking for even before he opened his mouth, and pointed him toward the little boy.

He caught the boy up- who was already feeling much better- and thanked her profusely; she listened with half an ear as a doctor next to her gave her a note that they needed more iodine.

"I was so worried; so so worried when I saw," he babbled, "I thought, 'What if he's been hurt? What if no one finds him? They won't know what to give him! They won't have his medical records!' But he's fine, thank you, thank you,"

Asa, who had been nodding blankly while really listening to the doctor, suddenly quirked an eyebrow.

"What to give him?" she echoed. "What do you mean, 'What to give him?'"

The man wiped tears from his beard with his free hand. "Ibuprofen, miss, he can't have it. He's allergic. Last time it went… systematic."

"Systemic," she corrected automatically. "Yes, yes, of course. I'm glad he's alright. Aren't you, Toby?"

The boy nodded vigorously, and smiled shyly at her. She smiled back, and then the next batch of people were in, this time from a smashed office window down three miles.

She didn't even notice she was getting tired until she swayed, and a firm hand caught her behind the shoulder blade.

"Steady, Dr. Liretto. We're almost done here."

Asa glanced over her shoulder at the man who'd caught her. He was a bland, reliable, middle-aged sort of man in a neatly pressed suit. She smiled gratefully at him without quite knowing why, and his eyes crinkled a little in return. She decided that she liked him on the spot.

She took a moment to glance around, automatically reassessing and checking for any new triage patients. There were none. The last of the critically injured were being packed into ambulances, and nearly everyone else was being collected by friends or family. The remaining medical staff was in the process of making phone calls for those that remained, and cleaning up the mess of the impromptu trauma center. It was late; the sun was nothing more than a watery suggestion above the skyline. Asa sighed and dug the heel of her hand into her forehead.

"Yes, we are, aren't we." She bent over an empty bed to pick up a clipboard and mechanically began checking it against the remaining medical supplies.

"We have people working on that," the man in the suit interrupted. "Why don't we move on into Stark Tower?"

He phrased it as a polite suggestion, but Asa had the feeling it was more of an order, albeit one that she was more than happy to comply with. He steered her in the direction of the elevators, and when she moved of her own volition, he fell in step behind her.

"Right. Yes, of course. I need to find out where everyone is."

"It's being taken care of," he reassured her, and Asa's fuzzy brain caught up with itself long enough to start to be curious.

"By…?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents Barton and Romanoff are on their way already." He paused to hold out a hand, which Asa shook automatically. "Agent Coulson. Pleased to meet you, Dr. Liretto."

Is that squeels of delight I hear? I hope so! If it is, be sure to let me know!

Also, upon rereading, I have noticed some grammatical errors and some OOC-ness, which I hope to fix in the near future. No worries, it won't change anything, just hopefully make everything feel a little better.