Dr. Stephen Strange looked around at the chaos that had descended on Metro-General Hospital in the past six hours. Walking beside his now recovering patient, he branched off down an adjacent hallway, hurrying to the nurse's station for his next assignment.
He usually didn't work on Sundays. The hospital never scheduled surgeries on Sundays, and God knew he was too good a doctor to be wasted on the floor or the emergency room. Hell, he knew he was way too valuable in every aspect for the hospital to pressure him into anything he didn't want to do. But once the sudden fighting began in the streets of Manhattan, he had been called in. On a normal day, he would have told the director where he could shove it, but the sheer panic in the man's voice when describing the influx of patients had made him pause. In the end, he consented. He figured he could make a special exception for an enormous alien invasion.
The injured bystanders of the apparent "battle" were littered everywhere in the halls of the emergency room. Broken limbs, concussions, burns - you name it, and it was present in the crowded waiting room, anxious for the next available doctor. The hospital was literally overflowing with people that needed medical care. Exhausted nurses were doing their best to usher the critical to the front of the line for more immediate care, while the more minor injuries were assured they would be seen as soon as possible.
Stephen had never seen anything like it.
Just as he picked up his next chart, a man burst through the sliding entrance door carrying an unmoving body. Dodging the slew of people scattered on the floor waiting, he trotted straight up to the desk.
"Help! Help me!" He panicked. "It's really bad!"
Stephen dropped the chart, and turned to the stranger. "What's going on with her?" He asked quickly, immediately shifting into doctor mode.
"I...I don't know." He stuttered out to Stephen, obviously growing more overwhelmed. "I was looking for my girls. We got separated when the fighting broke out. I was running down Madison when I saw her right there in the middle of the street. All of those...things...were dead by then. I thought she was dead, too, but then I saw her breathing. She's got a huge hole in her side, like she was stabbed or shot or something - I don't know. I just picked her up and brought her here. I didn't know what else to do, Doc." He finished in a rush.
"You did the right thing." Stephen murmured absentmindedly as he began checking over the unconscious woman in the man's arms.
Glancing back down the hall from where he had just come, Stephen started shouting out commands to the people around him. "I need a bed over here! Jen - Come on! You're with me! Make sure that OR-2 is ready to go in ten! We're going to have to take her straight."
A flurry of people were surrounding Stephen as everyone jumped to action at his instruction. The woman was very quickly put onto a bed where they began wheeling her down to the operating room. The moment they hit the doors, she was immediately being prepped for surgery. An IV was set up, the wound was being cleaned and prepped, and a nurse was administering oxygen to help the patient's levels rise.
"Odd…" One of the nurses said aloud to no one in particular. "The wound isn't bleeding as much as I would have thought."
Stephen ignored her as he began prepping his hands for the operation. He had little worry in the outcome of the surgery. He was the best surgeon in the world - What could there possibly be to worry about?
The crash of a metal instrument tray had him spinning around, trying to find the source of the interruption. Finding the woman had regained consciousness, which was impressive in itself, she was now fighting off his nurses with every ounce of strength she had left. Rushing quickly to the table, he held her hands down firmly.
"Hey, hey! It's ok." He tried to soothe, although that had never been his strong suit. "I'm Dr. Stephen Strange. You are at Metro-General Hospital. You were injured during the fighting earlier this afternoon. You have a large puncture wound in your abdomen, which, I believe has pierced your right lung. I'm about to operate to repair your lung before it collapses." He explained with confidence.
"You're going to be fine" He added as an afterthought.
"Can you tell me your name?" He continued as he began slamming medication through her IV line.
"Hermione." She whispered weakly.
"Good, Hermione." He encouraged. "This is going to make you go to sleep. When you wake back up you're going to be fine."
Before he even got another word out, the doors to the operating room burst open and in walked the last person on earth he'd thought he'd see.
"Hi Doc. I think you have something that belongs to us." Tony Stark said, standing there in his Iron Man suit. "Well, someONE that belongs to us, at least."
"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" Stephen yelled back in disbelief as a second unknown man stopped beside Stark. "This is an operating room, for Christ's sake!"
"My apologies, Dr. Strange." Steve interjected before the situation got any worse. "We have reason to believe that you have a friend of ours on the table, and we are going to need to take her with us."
"Out of the question!" Stephen snapped back. "Her lung is punctured and on the verge of collapsing. She'll be dead before you reach the front doors."
"With all due respect, we aren't your run-of-the-mill ordinary citizens." Tony barked out with a laugh. "Glenda here is a tough one. She'll be fine until we get her to Stark Tower. And there she'll be seen by the best doctors in the world."
"I'M the best doctor in the world." Stephen retorted matter-of-factly. His confidence and arrogance dripped off of every syllable spoken.
"We'll have to agree to disagree, Dr. Strange." Tony chuckled with condescension.
Stephen stopped before shooting the men a puzzled look. "How did you even know she was in here? I just got her name, and she isn't registered in the hospital database yet."
"When you're good, you're good." Tony responded arrogantly with a shrug towards the doctor.
"Steve." Hermione called hoarsely.
Steve was by her side quickly as Tony and Stephen continued arguing. He noticed the nurses backing away, trying to make themselves as small as possible in the event a fight erupted between the men.
"My flat...28 W. 44th St. Apt 2B" Hermione rushed, groaning painfully. "Kitchen cabinet. 2 red potions, 1 blue, 1 gold. Bring them here - pour them down my throat."
"Got it." Steve said immediately.
Touching his earpiece and quickly relaying the information to Natasha and Clint, he turned back to Hermione, only to see her that her eyes had rolled back in her head once more.
"Doctor." Steve said to the two men still fighting.
"Listen here, douchebag. I don't care if you're Tony Stark-"
"Doctor." Steve tried again, a little louder.
"...If you think for one moment that I won't punch you in your pompous little-"
"Doctor Strange!" Steve shouted.
Stephen's head swung to Steve.
"What?!" He yelled back.
Steve cleared his throat. "I need you to keep Hermione alive. Help should be here in eight minutes."
"Help?" Stephen asked incredulously. "I don't need 'help'." He said, almost disgusted at the thought.
"I think you may be surprised." Steve replied knowingly. "Stark. Clear the room."
"Listen up everyone!" Tony began with a flourish to the other nurses and residents in the room. "Thank you so much for your assistance, but we will be taking over from here. We appreciate your service, and you can pick up a complimentary gift bag on your way out!" He finished with a swoop of his arms toward the door.
"You can't just come in here and order my staff around!" Stephen yelled, furious at his losing control of the room.
"Well." Tony said with a mocking smirk as he ushered the last of the remaining nurses out the door. "It looks like I just did."
Removing his hands from Hermione's wound, Stephen began walking purposefully towards the still smirking billionaire when the doors burst open once more.
"Got it, boss." Natasha reported as she flitted into the room quickly with the four vials.
"Good timing." Steve responded as he took the "potions" from Natasha and began pouring them down Hermione's throat.
"How many more damn people are going to be barging into my operating room today?" Stephen shouted angrily.
"Just one." Clint answered as he breezed into the room. "Thor is taking care of Loki, and Hill has a track on Banner." Looking over at Steve, he continued. "The area is secure, but Fury wants us out in 15."
Stephen spluttered in rage before glancing over at Steve, who was pouring the last of the liquid in Hermione's mouth and massaging her throat to get her to swallow.
"Wait!" Stephen yelled as he hurried towards his patient. "What is that?! You can't just-"
He stopped abruptly as the cold metal barrel of a pistol pressed firmly against his forehead. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he looked at the redheaded woman in confusion.
"What is it you were saying we 'can't' do?" She began in a deadly calm voice. "Let me explain this to you, Doctor Strange. We are the Avengers. We've been fighting a race of alien invaders all morning, and I have hit my limit for the amount of bitching I'm willing to hear from your arrogant ass today. Hermione is with us. We are saving her life, you idiot. Now, back up and shut up, or I will break both of your legs and make you."
Stephen stood there with his mouth open, completely offended, but unsure about how he should proceed while he could still feel the cold steel of the gun barrel against his head.
"But she IS my patient." He retorted more calmly, his voice still revealing a hint of his previous arrogance. "And I have a right to know what he's pouring down her throat!"
"It's fine, Dr. Strange."
Stephen whipped around at the new voice, only to see his patient was attempting to sit up on the table gingerly. Seeing the man with the bow helping her up gently, he threw his hands up in exasperation.
"You can't just leave with a punctured lung." He motioned at her, feeling himself getting angry again.
"It's no longer punctured." She replied with a smile and a small wince.
At the neurosurgeon's confused expression, she continued. "The vials Steve was giving me - You were asking about them." She began as she allowed Clint to help steady her into a sitting position with her legs dangling over the side. "Two of them replenished the blood I had lost. One healed my internal organs, and the last healed the tissue and nerves that were damaged by the blow from the energy rifle." She finished slowly, breathing heavily.
Stephen continued watching in stunned silence as Hermione gently moved her hospital gown to the side and looked down at her side.
"Now, all that's left is to heal the flesh." She finished before hovering her palm above the angry jagged wound on her side and murmuring a melodic string of words he didn't understand.
Stephen watched, his eyes growing wide, as a glowing golden light oozed from her outstretched hand into the gaping wound on her side. Gobsmacked, he watched in utter disbelief as the flesh began knitting itself back together, not leaving any indication of ever being there.
"Two minutes." Clint said to the room, shooting an apologetic look at Hermione.
Hermione waved him off. "I'll be alright in a few - I mean, look at you, right?" She said with a smile.
Natasha shot Clint a questioning look, realizing that she had been left out of the loop.
Stephen was still standing in the same spot, frozen in shock.
"That...that's not possible." He stuttered out weakly, feeling like his brain wasn't getting enough oxygen.
"You'll find" Hermione said as Clint began helping her towards the door. "that that particular statement doesn't apply to some of us."
She and Clint began following the others out the door before Stephen was able to call out again.
"'Some of us'?" Stephen said, still trembling from the shock.
Hermione paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "Witches, of course." She said with a smile that lit up her whole face.
"Thank you, Dr. Strange." She said sincerely. "I truly appreciate your help."
Stephen wasn't able to form a response before they were gone. Standing in the middle of the now empty operating room, he struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed.
He was a doctor. He relied on logic and science...and he had apparently just witnessed a witch use magic to heal a collapsing lung and a gaping flesh wound. That was normal, right? He shook his head to clear his thoughts before they threatened to overwhelm him once more.
Walking back to the nurses' station in a trance, he knew that the image of Hermione's skin knitting itself back together would be burned into his mind for weeks to come.