Wow, I'm quite overwhelmed by all the positive comments to the story! Thank you all so much, especially SirAvery, Guardian of Heaven, Alicecreed1010, Motoko The Red Queen, Marvel 18, d0ct0rwh0l0ckf4n, Tanley662, Savarra, Saint of the Sinners, Amy, Hannah, and my three Guest reviewers! You guys make me very excited to keep updating... And to all my followers and favoritors, I love you guys too! Everyone go get yourself a miniature Avenger pop (or whatever those things are called) because you're amazing!

Don't forget to tell me about your Natasha ships (if any)! I'm curious about what fabulous people like yourselves think...

Hope you enjoy the chapter! Thanks so much for reading! :)

Pietro stared, dumbfounded, as the blonde girl he'd saved earlier crashed to the floor. Her eyes were closed, and she had hit her head on the table when she fell, so a small trail of blood ran down her forehead.

He tried to leap up and make sure she was okay, but his legs wouldn't respond. He growled and tried again, but then he realized it wasn't just his unresponsive legs, it was a needle in his arm hooked up to a bag of blood. Pietro was about to take the needle out of him when his sister's voice shrieked, "No, stop!"

Shocked by Wanda's urgency, he turned towards her. Her face was pale as she shivered and exclaimed, "She said you'd been under hypo… hypovolemic shock. You need her blood."

Pietro blinked. "Her blood?" he asked faintly, staring down at the girl. Steve Rogers was picking her up and putting her on one of the beds beside him, a concerned look on his face.

"Yes," replied his sister. She grasped his hand as if she knew how guilty he felt. He didn't know how much blood he had needed, but it was enough to knock her unconscious. "Yes, she was the only one who could donate without there being any repercussions."

He stared at the girl, wondering what had inspired her to save his life and risk her own like that. Although it was foolish, he couldn't help but admire her resolve. She had guts.

He remembered when she'd asked if she could help kill Ultron's robots too. There had been a questioning look on her face, as if she doubted herself when she asked this. Pietro figured that with a little training, she would easily learn how to shoot a gun; she seemed to learn quickly. At any rate, she was quite the healer. He would've died without her.

"Pietro?" asked his sister, and he turned back to her. He was so relieved to see that she was alive as well—he tightened his grip on her hand, as if to make sure she was really there. He didn't know what he would've done if she had died. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Relatively well," he replied. But then he glared at his legs and the IV. "Although I'd like to get up."

"Not an option, soldier," said Rogers, who was kneeling over the blonde girl's bedside. She looked peaceful; Pietro hoped she was just sleeping, and not in pain. "You're going to need to stay here for a night or two."

Stark sauntered over and held out a silver bag to Pietro. "Peanut?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow and smirked a little. "No thanks, I'm good."

"How about an orange?"

At this, Pietro chuckled. "No thank you. I'm not hungry."

"Come on, you've got to eat something," insisted Stark, placing the bag of peanuts on the counter. "Something with iron. You've probably lost a lot of that—or maybe some Vitamin C? That helps absorb iron, which would probably be good for you right now."

Rogers stood up and crossed his arms. "I thought you said biology wasn't your forte."

"This isn't biology, Capsicle, this is anatomy, which is also my forte." With that, Stark sauntered over to the fridge and peered inside. "Let's see, we've got milk, some cereal in the pantry, pineapple, an orange, whatever is in the kitchen… Whether you like it or not, Quicksilver, you're getting something to eat."

"Quicksilver?" asked Wanda before Pietro could. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Without looking at them, Stark waved his hand dismissively. "It's a nickname. Like blondie over there. That's what Barton and I call her. She got us pretty good, though. She called me Rust Bucket." With that, Stark began to laugh, which made the Maximoff twins exchange incredulous looks. Usually, if someone insulted his suit, he would punch them into oblivion.

Rogers just smiled and shook his head. "She only called you that because you insisted on getting a nickname."

"She gave Barton a cool nickname. She called him Legolas. I wanted a cool nickname."

Pietro stifled a laugh both at Stark's childishness, and at the blonde girl's quick wits. He looked at her again. Rogers was standing over her protectively, as if he felt personally responsible for her recovery. As they gazed at her, however, she moaned and turned over, yawning into the pillow.

Rogers smiled and pulled the blanket up over her. "She'll be all right," he declared. "She just needs some sleep. She hasn't gotten any the past twenty-four hours…"

"Yeah, I'm surprised she managed to hold out that long," replied Stark, his mouth full of pineapple chunks. He held out the bowl to Pietro. "Want some?"

Knowing that he would never get any rest until he ate something, Pietro sighed and grabbed the bowl. Stark tossed him a fork, but Pietro didn't immediately eat. Something Rogers had said captured his attention. "What do you mean, she hasn't slept in twenty-four hours?"

Rogers smiled guiltily, as if realizing he shouldn't have said that. "Well, she was… determined to make sure everyone got some sleep. But she wanted to stay awake in case we needed her."

Pietro glared down at the pineapple. He felt bad for burdening the girl like that. He remembered that he'd never gotten her name, and he was about to ask—but then he didn't. He wanted her to tell him.

Stark walked over and clapped a hand on Pietro's shoulder, which made him wince a little. "Sorry," said Stark, but then he added, "Don't worry too much. She's tough. She's got promise. Maybe Romanoff can train her up a bit, and she can stay here with us for a while. After all, we did destroy her home. She'd be welcome here as she adjusts."

That made everyone smile. Pietro too liked this idea—although he saved her twice, the girl had risked herself to save him. Maybe he could make it up to her during the time she was at Stark Tower.

Something by the floor caught his eye. It looked like a book. "What's that?" he asked.

Rogers followed his gaze and picked up the text. He smiled as he looked at it. "I brought this for her to read while she was here. It's Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities." With that, he held it out for Pietro to look at. There was a blue ribbon in the book that acted as a bookmark—he remembered it had been in the girl's hair. She had kept her hair back with it when they'd met in Sokovia. The bookmark was about halfway through the novel.

"Avid reader," said Wanda, smiling a little. "She was very nice to me."

Pietro decided that he liked the girl—she had been kind to his sister. And she had saved his life, which was also admittedly important. She seemed to enjoy the classics, too, so she was probably very intelligent. She'd had an accent when she'd talked.

He also remembered that she could sing.

He tried to remember what the girl had sung, but he couldn't. He had been half awake, struggling to look at her as she removed the bullets from underneath his skin. Her voice had kept his eyes open, but it also made him want to sleep more than ever. He wondered if she would sing again.

Before long, everyone declared it was time to get some sleep, seeing as it was almost midnight. Although Stark offered the girl a guest room, Rogers said he didn't want to move her in case she woke up.

"She'll be all right here, won't she, Maximoff?" asked Rogers, glancing at Pietro.

He nodded. "Yeah, that'll be fine. Don't wake her up—she needs the rest."

Rogers seemed to agree; he told everyone goodnight before exiting, Stark following. Wanda tightly squeezed his hand. "If you need anything, call me, okay?"

"Thanks, Wanda," murmured Pietro. His sister could be extremely motherly.

"And I mean anything," she retorted, forcing him to look into her eyes. "I don't care if you feel so much as a pinprick—I want to know about it."

That made him laugh. "Relax, Wanda, I'll be all right. This is like the time I got the chicken pox when we were eight. You worried over me more than our mother did."

Wanda smirked a little, declaring, "Sometimes, it is my job." Then she kissed his hand and said, "Goodnight, Pietro."

"Goodnight."

He watched her leave—she smiled at him through the glass. Then she was gone.

Once he was alone, Pietro gazed at the sleeping blonde girl. He wondered when she'd wake up… probably not until morning. But he wasn't tired at all since he'd just slept for a full day himself. To keep himself occupied, he looked at A Tale of Two Cities and decided to read it.

Half of the three hours he spent reading the text, Pietro wasn't quite sure what was going on. He knew it was a classic, but in all honesty, he'd had more to worry about than books in the past, what with him and his sister being experimented on, and their revenge plot for Stark that incidentally never happened.

Just then, Pietro heard the girl yawn. He tried not to make it look like he'd been monitoring her progress by quickly opening the book and pretending to read it.

He didn't look at her again, but he heard her rise. Then, her voice asked, "You are still awake?"

Pietro finally set the book down, as if he'd only just now noticed she woke up. "Yes… it's good to see that you are awake as well. You gave everyone quite a fright."

She flushed. "It was the only way to help you."

"Why did you do it?"

She looked at him incredulously. "You saved my life twice yesterday. The least I could do was return the favor."

Her indignation made him smile. "Well, thank you," he said. "Although you could've asked for help."

"I tried," she said helplessly. "Dr. Banner has been missing the past few days, and I didn't know your blood type… I knew my blood didn't carry a risk because I'm type O, and I couldn't risk incompatible blood since you were under hypovolemic shock—"

"You've lost me," smirked Pietro. "Unlike you, I'm not a doctor."

The girl grinned a bit shyly and replied, "I'm no doctor. I'm only a healer. I've done some research in my spare time, just so I know what I'm doing when I help people."

"So you've done this before."

"Not often," she answered. But Pietro noticed something strange with her answer. He could tell she was holding something back—but he didn't want to pressure her on it. As it was, she was just about to say something else when she was forced to stifle another yawn. Pietro couldn't help but smirk a little; apparently, she needed more sleep.

The girl flushed, seeing his expression. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I don't know if I'm quite recuperated yet. Perhaps morning will be better for us both."

He nodded. "That seems logical."

She smiled again and crawled back underneath the blanket of the white bed—but then, Pietro remembered something he'd wanted to ask her. "I never got your name."

The girl rolled over and faced him. "Esca," she sighed, her eyes already closing. "Esca Rarity."

Then she was asleep.

Pietro looked at her for another moment, at Esca Rarity. He smiled to himself; she had a nice name. He hoped Esca Rarity would stick around Stark Tower for a while—although he'd only just met her, he knew he'd enjoy the opportunity to befriend her.