Jay

Chapter 10

"Steve," I heard my voice crack. I stared ahead at nothing, the shock setting in. Everything in me was numb. Every color was dimmer. The whole world stopped spinning. Nothing was right. Nothing would be right.

There was nothing I could do.

"Jay!" I heard a far away voice shouted. "Jay! Come on, snap out of it!" the voice said. I could barely hear. Then something went into my line of sight. I stared blankly at them. I heard two clicks. I blinked and everything was centered again. Sound and color seemed to come back.

"Jay!" Sam's voice cut through the blur. "Jay, you in there."

"I lost him," I mumbled weakly. "I lost my partner. Again. I wasn't supposed to lose him this time. We were supposed to stick together this time. He was Captain freaking America for Christ's sakes. We were partners."

"As far as I can tell, you still are a team," Sam said, and pointed out the door. "Look."

I meekly crawled over there, and saw the black blob that was James dragging Steve through the water. I gasped, and teleported down to the water without thinking, going to help.

When we finally got to the shore, James dropped Steve causing me to drop the rest of him, and James stood with his back to him. I collapsed to my knees next to Steve, looking over his wounds checking to see if he was still alive. He was, but his pulse and breathing were slow.

When James started to walk away, I grabbed his human arm. He glared back at me.

"Thank you," I said, looking him dead in the eyes. "I know you don't know him yet, probably don't remember me all that well, but thank you."

He nodded tersely, and walked away.

"Fury, call an emergency vehicle, and tell them to haul ass," I told him. "He's alive, but he's not looking too hot."

"Already did, Jay. They'll be there in 5 minutes," Fury said. I cursed.

"That's too long," I muttered to myself. "Call them off, I'll get him there myself," I said into the earpiece, and grabbed Steve's shoulders and teleported him to the hospital emergency room.

"Help!" I shouted. "He needs a doctor!"

The doctors rushed around, helping me get him on a stretcher, and I told them, "His name is Steve Rogers. As far as I could tell, he has a gsw in his leg, three through-and-throughs in his stomach," my voice cracked then, but I continued. There was no point in lying about his name. He was wearing a spangly outfit for God's sake. "Multiple lacerations over his face, and a knife wound in his shoulder."

I stood outside the window, and prayed to whatever deity kept this idiot alive would give him one more chance.

5 minutes later, they wheeled him out for surgery.

"Miss," a nurse asked. "You brought him in, yes?"

"Yes," I said, staring at the now empty room, and I realized I was hugging myself. I put my arms down to my sides and turned to her. "What do you need?"

"The police will be coming into question you, as we're required to report all gunshot wounds," she said.

"Okay," I told her, nodding.

"Also, we need the name of his insurance company," she said.

"He doesn't have any, but I can pay his medical bills," I told her. She nodded.

"Alright," she said. "What's your name, miss?"

"Jaime Barton," I told her. "Where's the waiting room?"