To the end of the line - stucky

Panic And Pain

"Clint Barton, gunshot wound to the lower left side. I estimate he's lost four pints so far, and I'm concerned about hypovolemic shock", shouted Bruce over the sound of the engine.

The team had just arrived back at the tower in a rush. Clint had become worse during the last portion of the flight, and an emergency medic team was on standby.

Before the engine had even been turned off, the doors were flung open, and a flock of doctors ran in and lifted him onto a new bed. Just as fast as they arrived, they took him away, with Bruce following behind, shouting instructions and replacing another red bandage.

Tony switched the jet off and locked the controls whilst the rest of the team packed up and left. Not a single word was said between them all in this time.

Sam went to get his cuts checked for infection, and Nat put all their weapons back in the locker room before rejoining each other in the meeting room for a debrief.

"The second jet should be here in the next seven minutes according to their logged take-off time", said Tony interrupting the silence, only for it to become even more pressing.

"Is Clint going to be okay?" Wanda finally asked, worry lacing her features

"I don't know, but we'll be notified with any new information".

Apparently, that was the only thing anyone had to say as the next ten minutes were filled with almost complete silence. The only noise was a scratchy fingernail scraping along the table top by Tony.

"It's been eleven minutes. How far away are they?" Demanded a very exhausted Nat. She just wanted to get this over with and go to Clint. She could already picture the looks on his family's faces as she told them. She scrunched her eyes to make the images disappear and looked up to see Tony typing on his phone.

"Cap, Barnes, what's your ETA?" He sighed. "Either they're ignoring me, or their communications are down. I'll call downstairs.... Hill, it's Stark. Can you please track jet two and find out when Steve and Bucky will be back? Thanks".

Everyone just wanted to get cleaned up and go to sleep while they waited for any news about Clint. They all ached, and Sam just wanted to bathe in liquid morphine. He had no idea if that was even a thing, but he had already started dreaming of it.

The thought of the stinging in his entire body and the deep bruises to magically vanish sounded heavenly. He was trying to envision it, the feeling in his body disappearing as he climbed into his big, fluffy bed.

The door slammed open, making him jump out of his mind and seat. Hissing, he rubbed over the muscles that had been aggravated.

At the door stood a young S.H.I.E.L.D agent huffing like he'd just ran up ten flights of stairs.

"Mr S-Stark", he stuttered. "Hill sent me, we can't locate the jet you asked for".

The idiots downstairs must have misheard him and were tracking the wrong jet, probably the one he's already turned off downstairs. Steve and Bucky were flying the other one, so it should have been located already.

But Tony knew that wasn't likely, he had the utmost respect for Maria, she wasn't an idiot.

After a long pause, all Tony said was, "show me", before everyone ran after the young man.

As it turns out, he had ran up ten flights of stairs on the way up because he wasn't authorised to use the elevator.

No one was openly panicking yet, not wanting to make a scene until they saw for themselves. It could just be a big misunderstanding.

The elevator opened into a giant room with lines of agents sat at computers. The room was in complete chaos as people argued over the phone and ran between tables collecting files. Giant screens scattered about on the walls and displayed various locations, times and security footage.