✨ Dedicated to ErinSwann for hassling me to write one-shots for ocs ✨
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"I'm sorry, don't leave me, I want you here with me
I know that your love is gone
I can't breathe, I'm so weak, I know this isn't easy
Don't tell me that your love is gone
That your love is gone..."
The familiar tingle of dry blisters forming on Rita's upper hip was enough to stir her from sleep in discomfort.
Sam Wilson was a fortunate ally in their resistance against pursuers, his home a modest but gratefully used sanctuary. The main bathroom of the condo currently acting as hers while she needed privacy. Thankfully her body had decided to declare its troubles in the early hours of the morning. The rest of the residence remained shrouded in darkness and her three co hoards, deeply asleep.
The pull light of the bathroom cast a harsh glare and gave a yellowish tint to the tiles, but Rita knew the weak discoloration of the whites in her eyes was wholly her. That, combined with the churning of her innards, how she slumped over the sink gripping at the porcelain basin tightly for balance. Taking in her appearance, turning her head side to side with small movements that dislodged stray strands of dark hair from her chiselled face. Her usual olive complexion waning to ivory shades that would soon become noticeable to the others.
If she dressed in a concealing fashion rather than her current baby pink vest top and dark leggings, practised how to ignore the sickness through will she wouldn't break character yet. Rita knew how to play through this unfortunate development after acting human for too long. In her two years of it she hadn't been met with such peril. Now the world was once again out for her blood because she had stood with Steve. Such dedication to the man, and yet she couldn't bring herself to ask him for help with her deterioration.
The woman was used to dealing with her human blamed ailments herself. However the fact she had company at this time and the entire situation meant this wouldn't be a fix - only a delay to keep herself on her feet and competent. The team didn't need dead weight with the stakes, and if she didn't tend to the problem eventually she would be a literally dying burden. She was far too strong and had lived too long to go out so embarrassingly.
Sam's kitchen was difficult to navigate in the pitch she had to maintain to avoid drawing attention. With three house guests and potential berths low due to the owner being a single man, someone was bunking in the living room adjoining the kitchen. Who specifically Rita couldn't make out, but squinting at the well built frame resting silently on the couch she guessed either Wilson himself or Steve.
