Animo - Avengers {Completed}

Chapter Four: Let's Be Famous

*How'd you like the last chapter? Pretty intense stuff ;) Make sure you comment, vote, and everything else! Thanks!*

          I walked into the room with the bright artificial light, the blinding white walls, and the smell of antiseptic. My arm was still burning from the cuts; I’d been sent here, the infirmary, to get it patched up. Thor had led the way for me, after setting me on my feet and shifting Barton into a more comfortable position in his arms. Now Thor was in front of me, being directed as to where to put Barton. Barton himself had lost consciousness once more as soon as we got into the air.

          “Agent Mo,” a lady said, walking over to me in her white outfit. “Would you like a seat next to Agent Barton’s bed? I can tend to your arm there, and you can be there when he wakes again.”

          I nodded, feeling dizzy. I suspected it was from blood loss and accepted her arm for support.

          I sat shakily on the edge of the bed I’d been shown to. The lady, looking as if she was only in her early twenties, got to work on my arm. “What’s your name?” I asked her, watching Barton, spying Thor leaving out of the corner of my eye.

          “Taylor Burns, miss. I’ve only been here for a week or two, so forgive me for not saying hello before.”

          I half smiled. “I’ve only been here for a month. Don’t feel too bad.”

          Her pretty pink lips parted in shock as she wiped the blood away with a wet cloth. “A month? But Agent Mo, you’re already famous!” I didn’t question this. At least, not then. I was too focused on waiting for Barton to open his eyes again.

          I gritted my teeth as a searing pain ripped through my arm. What is that, salt? I asked myself in surprise. I suspected it was probably some sterilizing fluid, like alcohol, but God, it hurt! “I’m just going to let that dry for a bit before I stitch you up, all right?” Taylor Burns told me before walking around to the other side of Barton’s bed.

          “Yeah, okay.” I wasn’t really listening. She was pulling away the makeshift bandages at his side, the ones covering the large wound on his right side. Then she untied the one around his left arm. He didn’t move once. “He’s going to be okay, right?” I asked, leaning forward.

          She gave me a faint smile. “He’ll be fine.” She cleaned the dried blood away with a fresh towel.

          I reached out and took Barton’s left hand in my right. I knew what was coming next. Just like I knew she would, she poured some of that burning liquid on both of his cuts.

          With a gasp and a jerk, Barton’s eyes flew open. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, trying to twist his body to see what was happening.

          I stood, still holding his hand, and pushed his shoulder until he was lying back down on the white sheets. “Stop moving around so much. You’re already trouble enough without reopening your wounds,” I ordered.