If I could cry, I would.

Steve and James run in, concern plain on their faces.

"Anne?" Steve sounds nearly as broken as I feel, his eyes darting over every part of me, assessing the damage.

James doesn't say anything. Instead, he makes quick work of my restraints, ripping them off with his metal hand.

"We have her," Steve says– I'm assuming –to the rest of the team on their comm system. His hand absently drifts towards the knife still in my leg.

James grabs his wrist, interrupting his movements. "Leave it," he says. "She doesn't need another point of blood loss. Wait until we're on the quinjet."

Steve nods, coming back to his senses. "I'll carry her out, you clear the way."

James agrees to his plan while Steve moves to pick me up, but I stop him.

"Acid," I explain roughly. "Eats through everything." He might've burned his hand.

Steve adjusts, scooping me up bridal style with my broken, left arm away from his chest.

I can't help the wet sob that escapes my lips. The movement tears at my stabbed leg, freshens the fire in my right leg, and makes my lungs feel like I'm breathing shattered glass. The change in position forces me to make my breaths shallow.

"You've been shot," Steve says through clenched teeth.

I don't respond because the answer is obvious now that I'm not bent over. Besides, I'm too busy coughing blood all over myself. I hook my right arm around Steve's neck, trying to stabilize myself a little better. Once I do, we take off out the door. Steve does his best to move smoothly and I'd probably be impressed if every little jolt didn't send spasms of white-hot pain through my system.

I rest my head against his chest, wondering if I can make myself pass out the same way I could slow my heartbeat.

We move through what feels like miles of hallway, stopping occasionally for James to beat the tar out of a few people in our way. Once or twice Steve spins his back to the action and drops to one knee, putting his shield that's hanging from his back between us and the gunfire.

I'm now feeling extremely sleepy. Too much blood gone.

We get stuck near our exit. James does what he can, but there're a lot of soldiers and they all have guns. Steve gently props me in a doorway, shielded from what's happening further down the hall where James is.

"I'll be right back," he promises, looking loath to leave. He moves my right hand over the hole in my stomach. "Keep as much pressure here as you can," he instructs half-heartedly.

I nod weakly. We both know I don't have enough strength to do much good.

Jaw clenched, he stands and runs to join James out of my line of sight. Sitting alone, where it's a bit quieter, makes my fight against sleep that much harder. My hand begins to slip from my abdomen and my eye that can still open begins to flutter closed. I also notice that I'm shivering and I can't stop.

But the sound of footsteps jolts me to my senses and I feel that switch flip in my head again.

'Two sets. Not bothering to sneak up on my boys but still treading softly.'

I relax slightly.

'Nat and Clint. Wait. I recognized the sounds of their boots?'

They soon appear and startle when they see me. Nat drops to a knee to check on me while Clint stays standing, looking behind them, gun drawn.

"She's bleeding out," she assesses and presses on my gunshot wound to slow the flow.

'Do I become Dr. Seuss when dying?'

The noises of the fight further on have become more frantic. Clint turns to see what's happening and I see that his left leg has been grazed by a bullet.

"They could use some help. Tony, Sam, are you near the west exit?"

Whatever they say back must not be good news because Clint looks grim. I wonder who Sam is.

Glancing to him, Nat says, "Go ahead. We're fine here."

He looks hesitant, but he too turns and joins the fight beyond my sight.

'Yep. Definitely some connection to Seuss.'

We sit in silence for a moment until the door across from us opens.

'Huh. This never happens in movies. They're supposed to come charging down the hall.'

Six soldiers in black uniforms surge forward, but Nat springs into action. She's a tornado of butt-kickery – turning, striking, electrocuting, kicking, and even flipping faster than my bleary eyes can hope to follow. They're too close to use their guns, but a couple of them have knives.

As fast as she moves, she's only barely keeping up with them. My heart speeds up as I realize that she can only hope to hold them off until someone comes to help her.

She grunts as one of the soldiers slices into her upper arm. He gets a dislocated shoulder for that. But the injury is slowing her down. She's taking more hits than she had at first. I feel that switch flip. I can see in my mind where they'll be eight moves ahead. As I 'watch', I spot an opening. But I'll have to act fast. I snap back to the present.

I wait until Nat drops to take the legs out from underneath one of the soldiers. As I had thought, the soldier behind her is left open and moves to draw his sidearm. Without a second thought, I yank the knife from my thigh and send it flying towards his chest. It finds its mark and sinks to the hilt. Surprise crosses his face before he falls to his knees.

It was the advantage Nat needed. Apparently five is much easier to manage. As she systematically destroys them (figuratively speaking...well, mostly), I'm being dragged into unconsciousness by an undertow of exhaustion, hunger, dehydration, and blood loss. I don't feel any pain whatsoever and that fact vaguely registers as a bad thing. I also realize that my leg is soaked – pulling out the knife reopened the wound and now I'm bleeding out from two places.

So, that's nice.

I let my eye close.

'Just for a moment. I'll be able to see more clearly if I rest, just for a little.'

A firm slap to my face pulls me out of my daze. Nat is kneeling over me.

"Stay awake." She presses on my abdomen again which forces a small groan from me. When she sees my leg bleeding, she huffs. "Real smart."

"You're welcome," I murmur. But I slurred so badly it was probably indecipherable.

"Where'd that come from, by the way?" she asks. Mostly likely trying to keep me engaged and conscious. "Didn't know you could throw a knife like that."

My mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "I can't."

Her brow furrows. "I don't understand."

"Me neither. Blame Hydra." I answer in soft breaths. I glance to her arm which she's keeping tucked to her side now that she isn't fighting for our lives. "You okay?"

'Apparently blood loss equals two word sentences. I'm learning a lot about myself today.'

She shrugs my question off. "I'm not the one bleeding to death. I'll be just fine."

There's a thunderous explosion and the ground quakes. Nat's small movements still, most likely listening to their comm link. She relaxes and even allows herself a little smile of relief. I'm guessing that means whatever it was, is on our side.

"Bruce mad?" I ask, wondering blankly if I'd get to see him all green and grumpy.

She shakes her head. "Thor."

"He's late."

Nat smirks. "He had to come from out of town. I'm just glad he made it at all."

Which makes me wonder why he did. I mean, the others didn't have to travel across realms to save me and, to be honest, I'm still surprised to see that they had bothered. I can only guess that Steve and James were adamant enough about getting me back and that the rest of the team knew that they might not make it out without help.

Somewhere in the foggy, slightly musty recesses of my mind, I know that I'm about to faint. But the rest of my mind doesn't seem to care.

An echo of someone calling my name bounces around my ears. Steve, maybe? I feel like I should answer, but I can't. My eyelid has become too heavy to lift. Someone picks me up again and an impression of being luggage crosses my mind.

'Is this what Bilbo felt like? Always being carried off...Bilbo Baggage...'

--------------------------------------------------

A/N: If you understood what I was referencing in the title, then you're a beautiful person. If you didn't, then you're still a beautiful person and I recommend that you read a couple of stories by a little known author by the name of J.R.R. Tolkien. Also, that reference was stretching it.

This chapter was pretty short, but it was a natural place to stop. The next chapter is about three times as long as this one though.

So you're welcome in advance for something I haven't given you yet.

I'm so good at these.

Also, I just realized that I posted the first chapter one month ago yesterday...and my story now has over a thousand reads.

What. I mean, what?

I'm experiencing some first-hand 'can't even'.

You guys are beautiful, and everyone that I've interacted with has been so nice. You can't possibly be an accurate representation of mankind. Thank you so much!

Side note to my post script: I got four X-Men movies, 'The Winter Soldier', and 'Age of Ultron' for Christmas. I'm seriously jonesing for a Marvel marathon... Guess I know how I'm spending New Year's Eve!

I hope you all had a merry Christmas! :)