𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 | parker¹

xvii. trust no one

Aster was sitting on a cool metal chair, keeping her gaze trained on her hands. They were covered in dried blood, staining her hands crimson red. None of it was hers, though. It all belonged to Fury.

A shaky breath left her lips and her leg bounced up and down with anticipation as she listened to the murmurs of the surgeons through the glass.

"Aster," Steve softly called her name, kneeling down in front of her with two wet washcloths in his hands. He hooked a careful finger under her chin and tilted her head upward, trying to get her to look at him. "Here, use this one to clean your hands while I clean up your cut. This might sting a little, okay?"

He raised the washcloth and gently swiped it over the gash on her head, trying to clean up the blood that stained her face and caked itself in her hair. "I think it's pretty cool that you have sparkly blood, Tiny."

Aster shrugged at that, wiping her hands off with the spare washcloth that he had given her. "You jealous?"

"A little," Steve admitted with a small smile. As soon as the blood was cleaned from her face, he stood and pulled a cart over before kneeling down in front of her once more. "I'm gonna have to give you a few stitches."

"Okay, Nurse Spangles, can I see your qualifications?"

Steve rolled his eyes at her. "First of all, you've been spending way too much time with Tony. Second, I learned how to do stitches during the war. Lucy taught me."

Her nose scrunched up in disapproval. "Yeah, things have changed a little over the past, you know, hundred years."

"Do you want me to get a real nurse in here?"

"Oh, don't talk so lowly of yourself. I've got a nurse right here!"

Steve blankly stared at her.

"Fine," Aster gave in. "Go ahead. Just try not to leave a scar, please? Unless it looks badass. Then, whatever."

Surprisingly, Steve did a pretty good job stitching her up. He numbed the spot with some gel before delicately weaving the needling in and out of her skin.

Just as he finished up, the door burst open, and in rushed Natasha. Her eyes were blown wide with rare panic and she was nearly out of breath.

Aster tilted her head with a grimace. "Geez, did you run all the way here or something?"

Natasha's shoulder's sagged with relief as soon as she laid eyes on Aster. The redhead hurried forward and knelt where Steve just was, taking Aster's cheeks in her hands to study the young brunette. "Bozhe moĭ, Aster. I thought you were dead." My god.

"Still alive," Aster confirmed, her words muffled between her scrunched cheeks. "Nat, you're kinda squishing me."

Murmuring a small apology, Natasha finally let go of her cheeks. Getting back to her feet, the woman turned to Steve and raked her eyes over him as well. As her eyes then traveled over to the glass, Natasha's breath hitched.

She took a step forward, unable to tear her eyes away from Fury on the surgical table. "Is he gonna make it?"

"I don't know," Steve sighed. Aster pushed herself to her feet and went to stand between them.

She could practically see Natasha slip into her agent mindset. "Tell me about the shooter."

"He's fast. Strong... Had a metal arm."

At Steve's words, Natasha's shoulders stiffened and her face hardened. It was a microscopic change in her stance, but Aster noticed. "Ballistics?"

"Three slugs," a new voice joined them. Maria Hill entered the room and went to stand beside her agents, peering through the glass to watch her old friend teeter the line between life and death. "Completely untraceable."