Heroes Assemble!

The Babel of New York

The slightest noise, a change in breathing, perhaps, roused Harry from his semi-sleep. Using the arms on the chair, he pushed himself up straighter, his eyes instantly focussed in on the man in the bed. Not seeing any change, Harry adjusted his position some more to something that was a little more comfortable before scrubbing his face with his hands and running his fingers through his hair. That, he knew, would make his hair even messier than usual, but really, who would be able to tell?

Matt, the one that he was keeping watch over, was lying on a mattress created using some kind of gel that moulded to his body. Supposedly, it was designed for people with serious wounds, allowing their bodies to be able to relax without causing undue pressure on any wounds and aggravating them.

And wounds there were. Matt had sustained deep cuts on both legs, in one arm and two deep puncture wounds in his back. He'd lost a lot of blood, a situation that only Harry's blood replenishing potion and the quick work of Doctor Cho and her team of doctors and nurses had been able to fix.

Harry, still dressed as Mage, had remained in the corner of the operating room, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched over the surgery to save the man's life – despite the protests of said doctors and nurses. They were even less impressed by the fact that they were unable to remove Matt's mask, both because Harry wouldn't allow it and because of the sticking charm that he'd added to it to ensure that his wishes were followed if he was called away.

Now, after a night-long vigil, Matt was seeming to respond to the treatment, at least according to the change in his breathing and to the blips and beeps that the instruments were making.

"Who's there?"

Harry startled out of his chair at Matt's growl, a growl that he was able to detect a slight panic in.

"It's Harry, Harry Potter," he said as he approached the bed. "You're safe. You're in the medical ward of Avenger's Tower."

Matt quickly lifted his right arm, the only appendage not injured in the fight against Bullseye, and sighed loudly when his hand encountered his mask still in place.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't let them take that off you," Harry reassured him.

Matt seemed to pause, his hand half-lowered before his head turned slightly towards where Harry was standing.

"You know who I am, don't you, Harry? Mage," he stated more than asked.

"I do," Harry smiled.

"Who've you told?" the growl was back, this time with a 'resigned' flavour.

"No one," Harry reassured the man. "You've known my identity ever since you defended me after the Chitauri battle to my fellow witches and wizards, never once telling anyone, not even hinting at it to Spider-man. Keeping your secret in return was the least that I could do."

Matt nodded. "How'd you find out?"

"The first time that Spider-man and I met you as Daredevil I placed a monitoring spell on you, strictly in case you ever got into too much trouble because of Bullseye," Harry added quickly. "That charm allowed me to know your health as well as your location. I followed it once to check that it was working properly and it led me straight to your business."

"I'm guessing that charm was what enabled you and Spider-man to get to me ... last night? ... when I encountered Bullseye?"

"Yeah, it was," Harry replied.

"In that case, as much as I don't like the idea of that bit of magic, thank you," Matt said. "I don't think I want to think about how that would have turned out if you two hadn't shown up when you did."