Chapter 21 - Steven Rogers
As soon as the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors found us, they immediately went to work on Rachel. They took her out of my arms and put her in the tube that was on the other side of the room and started to level out her vitals. I wiped my eyes. I couldn't look weepy right now. This is when she needs me to protect her most.
"She was shot twice, just over ten minutes ago. I wasn't here when it happened. All I know is the man who shot her, Ian Quinn, is actually a man called David. That is all I can give you."
"Alright, that is good enough Captain. We are moving her now." one of the nurses said. They lifted her in the tube to a stretcher. They pushed her out of the home without any confrontation and I followed.
Once we got to the Quinjet, we all piled inside. I sat down next to Rachel's head. The whole flight I just stared at her perfect face. I wanted to tell her that I had feelings for her. But the time was never right. It never came up in conversation. Both of our love lives have had bad track records, so it was a topic we generally avoided. But now, I regret never telling her. She is quite literally laying on her death bed, and I may never get the chance to share my feelings.
The Quinjet lands (pretty roughly might I add). The medical team runs the stretcher off of the back of the jet and into the facility. I run after them down hallway after hallway until they reach a set of double doors and two male nurses stand in my way.
"Captain Rogers, you can not go in there. Please, just wait out here," one of them says. And I do. I wait, and wait, and wait.
After an hour or so of waiting, another nurse comes in. As soon as I see her, I stand up. She walks over to me with a sad smile plastered on her face.
"Agent Stark has slipped into a coma. That much blood loss can do that to someone who has been through the kind of trauma your partner has," she says. I shake my head and place my hand over my mouth. I frantically search my mind, trying to think of something to say.
"Is there anything I can do?" I question, at a loss for words.
"Call her family, and get them here as soon as possible. They need to make a decision."
"About?"
"How long to keep her on life support," she says, and walks out. I stand there, paralyzed for about ten minutes, unable to simply sit back down in my chair. My mind is racing, trying to figure out what to do first until finally, my hand reaches for my cell phone. I am still not very good with phones, but I think through everything Rachel has told me to do. I find Tony's number and press it. It rings twice.
"Hello?" a groggy Tony slurs.
"Stark, it's Steve. We have a situation." I say.
"Well, what is it Spangles? I'm sure I can take care of it," he says cockily. Great, he's drunk.
"Rachel was shot," I say bluntly as the tears start to assault me again. "They want a decision regarding the length of life support."
"God, Steve! Weren't you there?" he shouts into the phone. I cringe away from the speaker, his words shooting daggers into my chest.
"I didn't get there fast enough," I choke out, my voice breaking.
"Where are you guys now?" Tony asks and I hear scuffling on the other end.
"The S.H.I.E.L.D. base an hour outside of D.C." I say.
"I'll be there in an hour." The line clicks and I sigh, a single tear running down my face. I bury my face in my hands. I didn't get there fast enough. I have never been fast enough to save the people in my life. First Bucky, now Rachel. I have never been able to save the people that mean the most to me.
An hour later, as promised, Tony shows up. I watch him walk briskly through the door. I've never seen him move faster. The door opens again behind him, revealing Bruce, Natasha, and Clint. They all look around the waiting room until their eyes land on me. They walk over in a group.
"Tony, how did you sober up enough to get here?" I ask, looking up from my seat.
"Magic pill that J.A.R.V.I.S. and I created. Takes excess alcohol out of the system," he says, looking around the room for a nurse, his attention occupied elsewhere. Bruce gently pushes Tony aside.
"Steve, Tony. Do you want me to take a look at her?" he asks, pushing his glasses to the top of his head. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as he waits for one of us to answer.
"Yes, please Bruce," I say.
"Yeah, I'll help you out, Bruce," Tony says. As they head off, I look over to Natasha and Clint, both of them seated on either side of me. I put my head in my hands, hiding my face.
"Steve, this is not your fault. You did the best that you could do." Natasha says, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"But it is. It is my fault because I wasn't there. I was outside." I say.
"Why were you outside?" Clint asks.
"Because this was a test mission. Rachel is my supervising officer and I wasn't allowed, I just had to..."
"Shadow." Clint and Natasha say together.
"Steve, this still isn't your fault. You didn't pull the trigger. Alright?" Clint says, leaning back in his chair, his attention fixed on one of the television screens that lined the room.
"Who pulled the trigger?" Natasha asks, looking intently at me.
"Ian Quinn, but his real name is David," As soon as the name was out of my mouth, Natasha and Clint both froze.
"Really? Alright, I'm going to kill the sick twisted son of a..."
"Nat," Clint cuts her off. "Is there anyone looking for him besides S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"Not that I know of, but I would check with Fury. I haven't spoken to him yet," I say. After that, we wait in silence. Then Bruce and Tony come back in.
"We may have found something," Bruce says and I immediately sit up straighter and feel more focused.
"I'll do it," I say.
"What has he volunteered to do?" Natasha asks.
"Well since Steve has Super Soldier DNA he has fast healing. If we inject Rachel with his blood, she might exhibit the same healing to help her get better. She is somewhat stable, but her body just needs a push in the right direction. I think the blood will give her the nudge." Bruce finishes.
"I'll do it," I say again.
"Steve," Clint says standing up and putting a hand on my shoulder, "this might not work."
"I have to try," I say, turning to him feeling the desperation in my eyes. Clint sighs and removes his hand.
"Alright Steve, let's go take some samples," Bruce says, walking out as I follow.
I take a few samples and watch as Bruce puts them into the computer, running tests. After Bruce feels that the tests are pointing in the right direction, he goes out to the waiting room and gathers everyone up, walking us back to her room. After a few choice words from a nurse, Bruce is able to get us clearance and we walk in, surrounding her bed. I hold her right hand and Natasha has her hand on her leg as Bruce injects her with my blood. When he pulls out the needle, her vitals slowly steady out. And then they spike.
Rachel starts choking on her breathing tube and arching her back off the bed. Everyone freaks out.
"Clint, Nat! Hold her legs down!" Bruce yells. I just stand there, probably squeezing the life out of her hand and rubbing her hair back off her face while Tony holds her left hand. As quickly as the spazam started, it ended. Her vitals stabilized and she started to use the tube to breathe.
"Amazing." Bruce gasps.
"What?" Natasha says.
"Her DNA has already started to form around Steve's. She might have had some genetic predisposition for mutations... She's acquiring the trait of healing," he says. We all breathe a collective sigh of relief.
"It worked," Clint said.
"We should probably clear out. Go back to the waiting room. I'll tell the nurses what we did." Tony says.
"According to her brain waves, she's headed in the right direction," Bruce says checking his clipboard. I sigh in relief.
We did it.
I step back so that people can say goodbye for now to Rachel. Clint takes her left hand and rubs it while Natasha kisses her forehead.
"I'm so happy it worked," she whispers. Tony takes her left hand and kisses it. Bruce just taps her calf. I pull up a chair and sit on her right, looking at her. Not in a creepy way, but looking at her like I am listening to her talk about her day at S.H.I.E.L.D., or about a movie we should see. I smile, remembering her tell me about a play that we should see. I think it was called Newsies, or something like that. I take her hand and hold it between the two of mine.
She is going to make it.