I'll Protect You (Original Version)

Lemon chapstick is beyond amazing

The first person besides Logan that I saw was Alec, shining a flashlight with one hand with an AK-47 grasped in the other. I turned my head slightly away from Logan's sweatshirt to see Alec dressed in black sweats and a dark a blue t-shirt, his head an unbelievable mess with bags under his pale eyes.

"You're alive," he sighed. "I was hoping you'd be dead so I wouldn't have to wake up at one in the damn morning anymore." 
To anger me some more, he shined the beam of light into my face and I actually screamed.

"Mother of gods, get that accursed thing out of my face, you spawn of a demonic!" I shouted, actually pushing myself out of Logan's arms and falling flat onto the floor. I yelped in pain as my shoulder hit the contact with the ground and I tasted blood in my mouth.

"Darkwood! She's injured!"

"And I was sleeping," Alec snapped. "She's a big girl, Cross. A few bruises shouldn't be too much, right, Sparrow?"

I stumbled to my feet and pushed the jacket off my shoulder to show him my bullet wound. "That doesn't look like a bruise. Is it a bruise? Oh, dear. I must be made of steel in order for this to be a bruise because it looks ten times more like a bullet wound. But, since Alec wasn't even here but knew everything that happened to me, I guess it must be a bruise."

"I was sleeping, alright?" Alec groaned. "And then I wake up to Archer shouting words that would make a pirate blush and punching the wall with the strength of the Avengers behind him. It wasn't exactly the best alarm to my beauty sleep."

"Sweetheart, no amount of beauty sleep is going to fix that face," I said sympathetically. Alec's eyes flashed dangerously and he pointed the gun at my other shoulder.  

"Go get stitched up before I shoot you," he said, offended.

Rolling my eyes, I started to climb up the ladder, careful not to show how much my shoulder was crying out in pain. I was out of the sewers in no time, into the midst of policemen, agents dressed in sleek black uniforms, guns strapped to their hips or straddled in their hands, and paramedics.

"We have another one!" a paramedic shouted. Several hands helped me up, and someone accidentally brushed against my shoulder. A painful cry escaped my lips as the wound screamed in protest at the contact.

"She's injured!" someone yelled. "We have to get her to the hospital!"

Panic thrummed in my chest. They couldn't take me to the hospital--what if the media finds out I was here? Sure, I hid mainly from the prying eyes of my enemy, but at some points, it's to escape the flashing lights and screaming of the paparazzi. 

"No hospitals!" I snapped, stumbling away from the grabby paramedics. Each one of them gawked at me, wondering if I was crazy. Then, one of them blinked slowly and spoke the words of a nightmare.

"You're Princess Park Sparrow!" he realized excitedly. "The princess is in Paradise!"
"The princess?!"
'Oh, my, it is the princess!"
"Quick, someone, take a picture!"

"No pictures, please. Unless it's with me," my father joked, appearing by my side. He gripped the shoulder that wasn't shot with a protective force. "Actually, can I get a picture with everyone here first? I would like to personally thank you all for helping my daughter be rescued."

Excited screams and shouts filled the air as everyone clambered to get a picture with the future king of Cimeria. I scoffed, amused by the change in the atmosphere. Ignoring everything, I made my way over to an open ambulance, where I saw a hooded figure sitting.

"Idiot," Archer scoffed, hopping off the edge. He put his hands around my waist and hoisted me onto his spot. "You just had to be a hero, didn't you? You didn't even bother getting the machine gun Father hides in the basement. You couldn't have told me?"