Steve had never seen Thor unconscious before. If he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it possible. But felled by nothing more than a stray iron bar, the other Avenger lay disturbingly still on the ground with Mjolnir just a few feet away.
The fight had been over almost before it started, with the painfully stupid self-described terrorists having a plan that amounted to "stand in the middle of Times Square and shout fake religious nonsense". Steve hadn't even needed to use his shield on them – they were slow and ill-prepared, which meant that a quick punch to the jaw was more than enough to take them down. Minutes later, they were tied up and ready for collection by the en-route SHIELD agents.
But when Steve hit one of the men, he'd sent him flying into a pile of scaffolding. It had stayed upright – barely – but a lose bar had fallen, hitting Thor on the back of his head.
With the bad guys were subdued, Steve rushed to Thor's side, dropping to his knees. He ran his hands across his friend's head, searching for cuts, and let out a sigh of relief when he didn't find any. Thor was still breathing steadily, and there didn't appear to be any physical damage, at least externally.
Steve looked over at Mjolnir, laying as still as its owner, and knew instinctively that the key to assisting Thor was the connection between the hammer and the Avenger.
With him unconscious, Steve would barely be able to move Thor – it usually took the Hulk to lift him – let alone shift him the distance needed to get him to Mjolnir.
Mjolnir itself was Steve's only other option.
He pushed himself up onto his feet and took the few steps towards the hammer. He knew the myth behind it and doubted that his plan would work, but he also knew that he needed to do something. He crouched down beside the otherworldly weapon and gripped the handle. It was still warm from Thor's touch – or perhaps it was always that way – and gave an experimental tug.
He wasn't surprised when nothing happened.
Steve had never been a praying man. He believed in God, of course, and since meeting Thor and his family, he had begun to believe in the possibility that the Asgard truly were gods in their own right. But he had never asked any god, Christian or Norse, for a miracle.
He looked up into the sky and closed his eyes, picturing Odin in his mind. "All-Father, I beg for your help. Grant me the strength to lift the mighty Mjolnir and help your son."
Gripping the handle tighter, Steve felt a surge of power flow through him, as though Thor's lightning was charging him up from the inside. Slowly, he lifted his arm, astonished when Mjolnir came away from the ground as easily as picking up a child's toy.
He carried the hammer over to Thor's side, kneeling once more beside his friend. Carefully, he placed Mjolnir in Thor's hand. The lightning which had been sparking through his body transferred to Thor, the electricity passing between them via the hammer.
Steve watched as Thor opened his eyes, looking between Steve and Mjolnir. "Captain?" he asked, his voice as strong as ever.
Steve felt his body discharge the remaining energy, leaving him feeling as weak as a newborn. His body slumped to the ground, even as Thor sat himself up.
"You were unconscious," Steve muttered, having to force himself to speak when all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep for a week. "Mjolnir brought you back."
Thor stood up, scooping Steve into his arms. "I think not, my friend," he said, lifting Mjolnir with his hand, preparing to fly them back to the Avengers mansion. His arms tightened around Steve's body, holding him close.
"I believe that it was you who brought me back."