Steve's eyelids fluttered before opening slightly, still heavy from exhaustion and fatigue. His body may heal faster than the average person, however extensive injuries still left him exhausted as his body went into overdrive to recover. He ached all over, quite literally from his head to his toes. But he was warm, dry, dressed loosely in a lighter fabric that definitely wasn't his suit. He glanced around, realizing he was in a hospital. There was quiet music playing from a radio placed off to the side, Sam reading a magazine in a chair off beside him.
"On your left." he mumbled, surprised how clean his voice sounded. He wasn't sure how long it had been since the incident with the helicarriers or how long he'd been out, a day or two maybe. His tongue darted out to carefully lick the corner of his mouth, feeling the rough edges of stitches for the first time in probably seventy years. The last time he needed something stitched was in Brooklyn, sometime in 1942 or something. Back when he was still 5'2", barely 100 pounds soaking wet. Short, scrawny, asthmatic. He'd been to the hospital so many times the nurses knew him by his face. He briefly wondered what they thought when he just stopped showing up, appearing in the paper weeks later, twice the size labeled as a mysterious hero who saved a little boy from drowning. They probably thought he underwent some kind of unnatural human experimentation which, yes, he had technically.
Just as he was about to let himself doze off again, a thought popped into his head. He sat up a bit, eyes more open and alert as he looked around. Sam frowned, sitting up as well from his relaxed position. He looked at Steve in concern, ready to get a nurse if they needed one.
"Where's Issac-?" He frowned through the pain, turning to look over at Sam.
The man visibly relaxed, shoulders drooping slightly as a small grin broke out onto his face. He pointed to the open door in front of him, and past the two sets of armed guards at the entrances to each room and another open door, he could see him. Issac was curled up on his uninjured side, fast asleep. There were several visible cuts with bruising on his face from what he could see, and his arm was carefully wrapped and placed into a secure sling. After the battle at D.C they were all taken to the hospital to have their injuries evaluated, as well as to make sure Steve would be alright. He'd been discovered a few hours later at the edge of the river by the authorities, shot twice and beaten into next year. Any normal person would have been dead as soon as they hit the water.
After they examined his shoulder more thoroughly than Dr. Fine, as he finally learned his name, taking x-rays and cleaning it out again just to be safe, it was concluded that he would need surgery to make sure there would be no permanent damage. He was reassured multiple times that after a bit of recovery and physical therapy, he'd be back to full function within a few months. In a way it worked out, it gave him time to find another job and maybe start on the next path of his life.
S.H.I.E.L.D had been dismantled along with Hydra, most agents either going onto other normal jobs or simply going home to their families like Clint, some would apply to the CIA and the FBI, Maria even planned on working for Tony for some time. Natasha would be taking herself off the grid for a bit until things died down. Her entire past life before S.H.I.E.L.D was on the internet for anyone to see and because he respected her privacy and emotions, he wouldn't even be touching those articles. His own past would raise some questions no doubt, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad. Fury was officially considered dead, having no reason to continue to remain 'alive' now that Pierce and S.H.I.E.L.D were gone. He knew the man would keep a close eye on them from the shadows, and he almost found it a bit comforting to know that if something happened, he'd step in to make sure their little group didn't go AWOL. The Avengers, no longer working underneath S.H.I.E.L.D, would operate as a private organization, waiting for when the world needed them again. Part of him hoped it wouldn't happen, but he knew that was wishful thinking.
He'd waited until the doctors confirmed Steve would be fine, that he just needed time to rest and let his body recover before going along with the surgery. He'd sustained a few other injuries when the helicarriers came crashing down onto the Triskelion, but they were minor and some barely needed stitches. They were keeping him for a few days for observation, just to make sure everything with his shoulder was normal, there were no infections, that he could move it(as much as he could after major surgery of course), and that it was healing alright. They would need to wait a bit longer until they could truly test out his motor functions once again, but considering everything looked fine and he had good feeling and circulation, it didn't seem like any problems would arise in the future.
After studying the male for a moment, Steve couldn't help but think that he looked more like the 27 year old he actually was more than ever right now. Issac didn't actively glare at those around him, but he also didn't make an effort to smile and give everyone eyes either. He often carried himself in a way that made him seem older and more experienced, which helped him in the field and earned him serious respect with S.H.I.E.L.D, yes, but it sometimes made people forget just how young the male actually was. He couldn't help but feel a soft spot forming for him, finding his snarky but caring, deep down, personality almost endearing. He could be kind and gentle when he wanted to, he knew that. Issac was an incredibly ruthless agent, but he was also still a human being who harbored decent emotions and still liked to have fun and enjoy life. He wasn't just a mindless robotic operative for S.H.I.E.L.D. The look of sheer panic and fear on his face as he fell over the edge of the carrier came back to Steve at that moment. He looked so scared, so afraid of dying so early in his life Steve couldn't help but dive in attempts to catch him. If he hadn't, he wondered if maybe, he would have let himself fall with him.
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On The Edge. | Steve Rogers.
Fanfiction"I grew up in an orphanage, in the middle of a war. Loneliness and solitude is all I've known." "You should have called for help." "My idea of 'help' is a sniper on the roof, Rogers." Steve Rogers x male oc.
