UNKNOWN GUEST

#41 Doctor's Order

James' POV-

Everything around me was white. For a moment, I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed. What happened? Panic crept in, and I couldn't shake the feeling of disorientation. Then I heard a voice.

"Hello? Mr. Roberts? Do you feel any pain or numbness?"

The voice was calm, soothing, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. I could hear, but I couldn't see a thing. My hand instinctively grabbed onto the sheet beneath me, trying to find something—anything—to ground myself.

"Don't tense your muscles," the voice instructed gently. "It's still delicate. Can you hear me now?"

"I-I can hear you, b-but I can't s-see anything," I stammered, the fear evident in my voice.

"Close your eyes," the voice suggested. I felt a hand softly cover my eyes, and then it was gone. I blinked a few times, and slowly, the world started to come back into focus. A woman stood in front of me. She had her hair pulled back into a messy bun and a calm, professional demeanor that made me guess she was a doctor. But there was something else—she looked like she might be from East Asia. A flash of panic hit me—was I still in America?

"Does it feel numb in here?" she asked, touching my left knee.

I hesitated for a second, then asked what was really on my mind, "Where am I?"

She raised an eyebrow at me, then smirked. "It's the afterlife."

Not funny. Not even a little bit. My expression must have said it all because she shook her head with a soft chuckle.

"You're in New York City, Stark Tower, if I'm not wrong?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god. New York. I was still in New York. I hadn't been shipped off somewhere without knowing.

"Do you feel your leg?" she asked, her hand gently pressing on my knee again.

"Yeah," I nodded slowly, feeling a little more grounded now.

"That's good, then. Don't try to move." She gave a small nod and turned to leave.

I watched as she disappeared out of the room, and it suddenly hit me—I forgot to ask her name. Great. Classic. Just when I start to feel a little more human again, I miss the most basic thing. 

Uncle Clint strolled into the room, a tablet in hand, and a familiar smirk playing on his lips. I was still lying in bed, half-expecting someone else, but seeing him brought a rush of relief. "Uncle Clint! What are you doing here?" I called out, trying to sit up a little straighter.

He took a seat next to the bed, settling in as if he had all the time in the world. "Well, I was in Jamaica when I got your signal. Came back right after Fury's 'death'."

My heart raced at the memory. "Is everyone okay? The helicarrier crashed into the building," I asked, my voice a little shaky.

Clint nodded, a reassuring calm in his expression. "Everyone's fine. Your dad took a hit from Barnes. You know him, right?"

I nodded, the name sending a jolt of recognition through me. "Yeah, I know. Did anyone find him?"

He sighed, the weight of the situation evident in his voice. "He's off the radar."

My stomach twisted, but before I could dwell on it, I asked, "How's Dad?"

"He's fine. Already conscious. Your mom, she's at Capitol Hill..." Clint trailed off as he showed me his tablet. There, on the screen, was Mom, standing tall, facing down a sea of flashing cameras and stern faces of council members.