The Irony of it All

45

“I-is that Captain America?”

    Clint’s head snapped up in shock, his focus retreating from his blood soaked hands pressed against the still bleeding wound in Nat’s shoulder. “What?” He asked hoarsely. He had to have heard wrong.

    “What did you just say?” Asked Agent May.

    Clint hadn’t looked before, but he was looking now. The blood, dirt, and grime had blurred the still man’s features, but as he looked at him, he knew without a doubt.

    It was Steve Rogers who was laying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of this oil tanker. “Oh God,” he whispered. Because really, what else was there to say? Besides cursing every cuss word he knew from least worst to worst. He figured at this point, God was probably a better way to go.

        This was so much more messed up than he thought it was. He looked down to Natasha’s still closed eyes. Why would she shoot her own husband and the father of her child?

    “Phil!” May said. “I don’t have a pulse for him!”

    “May, I need you to get the jet and bring it as close as possible. I already alerted Fitz-Simmons to prep the operating table. I need to tell them there’s two now.” May nodded, returned to her feet, and ran. “Daisy,” Coulson said, turning his attention to her. “Start CPR!”

    She started chest compressions but his chest wouldn’t budge. She got up, straddling his torso like doctors would a patient in a gurney so she could get better leverage. Her inhuman strength made it so much easier to push down on his chest, but still, his heart wouldn’t start. “Sir, he’s been shot in the heart at point blank range!” She cried out. He’d taken a bullet to the heart. Surely there was no coming back from that.

    “In normal humans, irreversible brain damage occurs after 10 minutes of cardiac arrest,” Coulson said. “But the Erskine serum undoes damage and heals faster than normal humans so if we can just keep him from going brain dead long enough for his body to heal itself…”

    Daisy continued her chest compressions. “How long is that going to take? How much faster can he heal than normal people?”

    “97.62%” Clint answered. Daisy glanced over at him with a quizzical look. “What? I work with an expert who spent half his life studying the serum and he never shuts up about it.”

    “Well how is the serum in his blood supposed to heal his heart and get it to beat if his heart isn’t pumping anything?!” She cried.

    “That’s a good point,” Phil murmured. “What’s the ETA of the jet, May?!”

    “Working on it,” Came her muffled response through Coulson’s and Daisy’s comms.

   

   

    “I’ve got the operating room prepped, sir!” Jemma said as they came on board.

    “Lead Agent Barton,” Was Coulson’s order. “We’ve got a female, bullet through the left shoulder. It might have chipped her collar bone. She’s lost at least two pints of blood...And she’s pregnant.” Jemma glanced at the petite, pregnant, blond woman lying limp in Hawkeye’s arms. Obviously the mother to be was going to be her priority.

    “Second patient is male, shot at point blank in the heart. He doesn’t have a pulse.”

    “If he was shot through the heart and he doesn’t have a pulse, sir, I don’t think I can do anything. He’ll be brain dead before I can operate, and a defibrillator will do nothing. A bullet at point blank will have completely obliterated his heart."

           "Are you kidding me?" Clint asked, his voice broken.

           "Jemma?" Came Fitz's voice as Mack and Coulson laid the male body out on the second operating table. "Does he look familiar to you?"

           "Come to think of it," he said, turning to look at the woman. "She looks familiar as well."

           Simmons came over to stand behind Fitz, examining the blood and dirt covered face in front of her. "Oh my Lord," she whispered, looking up to Coulson. "I'm to save Captain America?"

            "And the Black Widow," came Coulson's response. "You might want to handcuff all four limbs to the table. She's under the influence of some kind of drug. See if you can get it out of her."

          Jemma Simmons looked at both of her patients. "Lord, help me."