UNKNOWN GUEST

#59 There Will Be A Party

 James' POV-

Uncle Sam and I strolled through the hallway of his office, chatting about random upgrades. "I was thinking about upgrading it, you know? Not sure how it'll turn out," he mused, glancing around.

I nodded, trying to keep the conversation light. "Why don't you add some mini rocket launchers?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Rocket launchers? Redwing's so small—I use it mostly for navigation. Maybe I should ask Stark to fit some rocket launchers."

At the mention of Stark, my mood shifted, the weight of recent events pulling me down. Uncle Sam noticed and rolled his eyes. "Come on, dude. Stark's not a kid. He's not gonna stay mad forever."

I sighed, feeling the awkwardness that had settled between Tony and me. "It's not about him being mad, Mr. Wilson. It's just... so awkward."

He huffed, amused. "Stark and awkward? Never heard of it."

"Tell me about it," I replied. "I mean, we stood there for almost three minutes, and neither of us said a word."

Sam sighed, shaking his head, probably thinking about how ridiculous it all sounded. Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen to see Uncle Tony's name flashing. Sam raised an eyebrow at me, and I sighed. "Speak of the devil."

I answered the call, "Hello, Mr. Stark?"

His voice was urgent on the other end. "Listen, Legolas is injured."

My breath caught in my throat.  Uncle Clint! " What happened to him?!"

"I'm not sure yet," Tony replied, his tone clipped. "But Jarvis recommends having a tissue engineer on standby, so Dr. Cho is on her way. I thought you should know."

Dr. Cho? My mind raced, trying to process the information as Tony hung up. I looked over at Uncle Sam, my heart pounding. "I need to go."

He nodded, understanding the urgency without needing to ask questions. I didn't waste another second, sprinting down the hallway, the worry for Uncle Clint gnawing at my gut. 

I arrived at Stark Tower, bursting out of the elevator and sprinting straight to the medical wing. In that moment, all the awkwardness and tension from before evaporated, leaving only concern for Uncle Clint. As I reached the OR, I spotted Dad pacing back and forth, his expression tense. I rushed over to him. "Cap, how is he?"

Dad looked up, surprised to see me, but then he nodded reassuringly. "His surgery is over now. He should be fine."

A wave of relief washed over me, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I glanced through the window into the room and saw Uncle Clint lying in a hospital bed, his face covered with an oxygen mask and tubes connected to his arm. The sight of him like that made my stomach twist, but Dad's gentle voice brought me back. "Go on in."

I looked at him, nodded, and then pushed the door open, stepping inside. As I approached Uncle Clint's bed, my eyes were drawn to the bandage on his left side, just above his waist—where the surgery had been done. His face was pale, and the steady beep of the monitor was the only sound in the room.

"Your prediction is accurate again," came a familiar voice from behind. I turned around, surprised, and found myself staring at Dr. Helen Cho, dressed in her doctor's uniform. She removed her mask, drying her hands with a towel, and then walked closer to me with a warm smile.

I returned the smile, though it was tinged with a bit of humility. "Just... luck, I guess?"

She hummed in agreement, her smile widening. Then, in a soft voice, she added, "It's good to see you again."