The Soldier's Spy

Chapter 11

Steve couldn't breathe.

All his strength left his body, his large form crumbling to the cold tile of the hospital floor.

"Will she wake up soon?" he croaked.

"She suffered postpartum eclampsia. She could wake up today, tomorrow, in a week or perhaps up to three years," the doctor murmured quietly. He could feel his phone vibrate in his hand but he paid no attention to it.

"Can I see her?" he whispered softly, hiding the tears that left his eyes.

"Of course," she said, walking away.

With his muscles made of lead, he rose, a heavy feeling falling on his shoulders.

When he opened the door, the smell of strong antiseptic filled his nostrils along with the familiar smell of vanilla, something that always clung to Natasha's skin.

His eyes fell on the body that laid on the white sheets, red hair being the only color in the room. Her skin was pale, rosy cheeks no longer there, the beeps of the machine being the only thing that let him know she was still alive. He neared her side, taking her cold fingers into his, eyes never straying from her comatose form.

He didn't notice the footsteps that echoed through the hall, nor the single hand that rested on his shoulder.

"She'll wake up," Clint murmured, fingers squeezing his shoulder, "She's strong."

He didn't know when Clint left, nor when the sun set in the horizon. However, he did notice the suns rays that brought the fire from Natasha's red hair, the orange glow encasing her skin.

"I'm sorry Nat," he whispered, squeezing her hands before he left.

Cries filled the room, nurses flitting about trying to soothe the newborns. However one baby caught his eye.

The child was quiet, his tiny body swaddled in a blue blanket, blonde hair glowing while his all to familiar green eyes taking in his surroundings.

James Rogers.

The nurse brought James towards the window, a smile on her lips. Steve could only stare, as his son blinked up at him.

His son.

Steve smiled and raised his hand, pressing it against the window, recognizing his child. He could feel the bond form between them, the bond of father and son.

The nurse walked back, returning James into his glass cradle.

"That's a cute one," an elderly lady said, her hand gripping a black cane, "Is he yours young man?"

Steve could only smile, "Yes ma'am."

"Where's his mother?"

His heart clenched rather painfully inside his chest and he returned his gaze to James, "His mother is in a coma."

Feeble fingers rested on his, "I'm sorry young man. I'm sure she'll wake up soon. After all, nothing ever keeps a mother away from her child," she murmured before walking away.

He smiled sadly to himself,  walking the opposite direction towards Natasha's room with heavy steps. He wished Natasha was there beside him like the many other couples there. Wives leaning against their husbands, smiles of happiness lighting up the corridor.

He could feel the grey clinging to his skin, the world no longer bright like it once was.

_________

One week later

Steve watched as his son slept, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

His thoughts wandered towards a conversation he and Stark had.

"Yeah? Well, it's time for me to tap out. Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book and build Pepper a farm, hope nobody blows it up," Tony murmured, his remote controlled car pulling up.

"The simple life," Steve spoke.

An unfamiliar emotion passed through his features, "You'll get there someday."

Steve could only shake his head, " I don't know, family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Little did he know that all it took was one night with Natasha.

A soft coo came from James, as if reminding Steve that he was also part of the plan.

Steve could only smile.

The hospital loomed in the distance, something he had seen for the past week. He had been visiting Natasha along with James, hoping she would wake up soon.

Several members of the team had also paid visit, Tony upgrading her room to something more lavish and roomy.

It was a rather sentimental gesture from the billionaire.

A tiny whimper came from James, his tiny lips parting for his bottle.

He pulled the warm bottle from the baby bag and raised it to James's mouth, who sucked it greedily.

"Don't worry James. Mom will wake up soon."

******

The nurse yawned softly as she made her final rounds to her patients before handing them off to her colleague.

Eyes fell on the clipboard in her hand, letting her know of her next patient.

Natasha Rogers.

With quiet steps she entered the lavish room, exotic flowers decorating the yellow room. It screamed wealth, letting the nurse know of the utmost importance the patient had.

A young woman laid on the bed, her red hair laid out against the pillow, pale skin emphasizing the fiery hair.

The nurse had heard of this particular patient. Mostly because the young woman had a handsome visitor that came every day.

Young nurses that giggled and gossiped in the lounge about the handsome stranger that came to visit. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a body every girl wants to see, the women giggled.

The older nurse could only shake her head. All she could think of what the sadness that young man carried, yet as a nurse she.could only check the woman's vitals at make a little bit of small talk.

"You're a pretty one ain't ya?" the nurse said, as she checked the saline solution bag.

Normally the elderly nurse wouldn't expect a response, but what happened next nearly sent the poor woman to the emergency room. She could already imagine what her report would say.

Diagnosis: Heart Attack.

"You think I'm pretty?" the woman croaked, a tired smile on her lips, green eyes still hidden beneath her eyelids.

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