I do not own these characters (I just write them as a way to love them and care for them).
| Warning: Steve 'N Me Fanfiction, now with more angst! |
Your stomach dropped over and over as a turbulent storm shifted the quinjet around in the air. Honestly, you didn't want to think about what would happen if there was a crash. It had already been a long and eventful trip... and all you could think about was how fast Tony would be able to get you all home.
You looked down at your bruising hands where they rested on your lap and wished you could be closer to the table a few feet away, where an unconscious Steve was strapped down safely. But everyone was strapped in safely now, no chances could be taken. Watching his body shake with every bump, you knew there was nothing to worry about and he was going to be fine. But you still wanted to be close to him because that's all you could really do to help. Time after time on missions, you would watch Steve take the hardest hits and get back up. There was nothing to worry about.
Directly across the jet from you, Wanda was strapped in and staring straight at Steve. She looked at you and her eyes filled with tears as she whispered "I'm sorry..."
You shook your head no and gave her a tight lipped smile. "No, Wanda, it's not your fault. He's going to be fine."
The tears started rolling down her cheeks and Vision, who was strapped in next to her, reached over and laid his hand on top of hers.
Clint looked back at you from the passenger seat up front and then looked to Tony who was concentrating on flying through the storm. "I'll get us home as fast as I can," Tony called out. You knew he was talking to you but you sat quietly because stressing about this situation wasn't going to make anything better.
When you did arrive back at the Avengers Compound, the storm continued. It was a violent, dark storm, the after effects of a tropical storm from a couple of days prior. You waited outside the sickbay as Bruce and another doctor examined Steve, watching the rain pound the windows in waves, comforting and frightening simultaneously. Like a headlight in the fog, you heard Tony's voice coming towards you. "Anything yet?"
Hours had passed. You'd paced, you'd sat, you'd even laid down on the cold floor in the hallway. Every second without word from inside that room, you felt your fear grow inside you. "Nothing yet," you said to him, leaning over with your elbows on your knees.
"Why don't you go get some rest, kiddo?" he said, gently.
"I'm not leaving him. He would do the same for me and he has..." you trailed off and sighed, turning to Tony. As you started to speak, your voice sounded small and afraid. "Why haven't they come out yet?"
Tony wasn't incredibly touchy-feely so there were no hugs or hand holding, but he sat with you and didn't move. He talked when you wanted him to, and he was quiet when you needed him to be. He only walked away once to take a phone call from Pepper.
The door finally opened, slowly. Bruce peeked out, looking tired and at a loss for words. He looked at you and then to Tony and then his eyes fell. You were expecting him to let you in the room but instead, he slipped out as the other doctor followed, and closed the door very quietly. Sitting down next to you, Bruce still looked like he didn't know what to say. The doctor gave you and Tony a nod and continued down the hallway.
"He's awake," he said, but it was very matter of fact, not in any excited way. Just a confirmation, really.
"But...?" you and Tony both asked.
He sighed and sat back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He's awake but he's not exactly himself - he's having some memory loss. It's probably just temporary, he got pounded pretty good and he definitely has a concussion. There's a lot of swelling near his frontal lobe."
"Okay," you breathed out, feeling like the first exhale you'd taken this century. You were clutching to the "temporary" part of what he'd said.
"I'm just not sure whether I should let you in to see him or not," Bruce said. It was easy to see he felt horrible saying that.
You sat quietly for a second. "What kind of memory loss are we talking?"
"Well.. he doesn't seem to remember anything from after he landed in the ice. So basically, yeah... he thinks he should be in 1945." Bruce gave his head a little shake as if he was trying to understand it himself. Your heart sank but Bruce had said it was temporary so... hopefully it would be. Bruce sighed again, "He's been awake for a while now... he's not as agitated as he was. I can't keep you from going in," he said. "I could only imagine how you'd feel if you couldn't see him."
"Thanks, Bruce," you said, tears swelling in your eyes as you reached over to hug him.
"Can I?" Tony said, pointing to the door.
"Yeah," Bruce said, "but I want you to both play along. He knows it's not 1945 but he doesn't quite understand what's going on. He's not really accepting it. That's a lot for the human mind to comprehend, especially with a concussion. Just.... play it by ear."
You stood up and Tony did the same. You stretched your back and stood straighter, brushing a stray tear away from your face and taking a deep breath. Tony reached out for your hand and squeezed it. In the time you had known him, he had rarely shown this somber side and you were glad to know it existed when it was needed. He led you to the door and opened it, letting you walk in first.
There was Steve, laying on a bed and he gave you a nod. But you knew that nod, that was his polite nod when he didn't know someone. They'd given him a hospital gown and he was showing some bruising now, one of his eyes was somewhat swollen. He looked uncomfortable and a little lost. In your mind, you heard yourself say "Hi, baby," but that couldn't be what was about to come out. With every ounce of strength you had left after a day's battle, a stormy flight home, and then hours of waiting, no food in your stomach... you smiled and said "Hi, Steve."
"Ma'am," he said. You and Tony walked to the side of his bed.
"How are you feeling?" you asked, trying to keep it light... and for lack of knowing something better to say.
"I've had better days," he said, letting out the faintest of laughs as he looked away from you. He wasn't in a good frame of mind, you could tell that, no matter how polite he seemed to a total stranger. "Do I know you?" he looked at you and Tony.
"We're your teammates," Tony said. You couldn't wrap your head around Tony's new calm side.
Steve nodded. "Okay." He looked at Tony again and finally said, "You look kind of familiar..."
Tony stepped forward and you watched his demeanor change and then his voice dropped lower. "Do you remember Howard Stark?"
"Yes," Steve said, sounding more energetic.
"I'm his son... Tony," Tony said and reached over to shake Steve's hand. Now you realized he must have been impersonating his father to make Steve more comfortable.
"Tony..." he said as if he was trying to memorize the name. "Stark settled down?"
"He did," Tony gave a little smile. Tony put his hand on your back. "Do you remember this gorgeous gal?"
"I'm sorry, I don't," Steve said, feeling bad. "I know you?"
"(Y/N)," you said, giving everything you had to keep smiling at him.
"I think we're going to let you get some rest, Captain," Tony said and took your arm to lead you towards the door. "We'll come back tomorrow to see how you're feeling."
"Goodnight," you said as Tony opened the door.
"Nice to meet you... I mean... nice to see you both," Steve said with sleepy eyes. Even in the worst situation, he always aimed to say the right thing.
Ten steps down the hallway, Tony turned to you and wrapped his arms around you. "What can I do? Food? A stiff drink? Anything?"
"Thanks, Tony," you sniffled a little. "I'm okay, thanks for coming in with me. I didn't know... what to say." Your mouth tightened across your face and your eyes crinkled, the tears started to sting. "I need a good night's sleep," you smiled.
"Come on, I'm walking you to your room," he said.