Hello Captain (Steve Rogers)

Mission Report

Sarah's POV

I woke up in a hospital bed wearing a thin cotton gown. My head felt fuzzy and there was a metallic taste in my mouth. I tried to get up, but moving sent a jolt of pain through my right shoulder. Damn it, I got shot again. I hated getting shot; those wounds always took a couple days to heal. I tried to move the gown so I could see how bad it was, but they had it all covered up. My forearm was wrapped in a bandage as well, but I only recalled being shot once, so I wasn't sure what that was from.

I looked around the room and saw they had me hooked up to an IV and were giving me antibiotics. Mentally shrugging at that one, I guess from their viewpoint that was standard procedure and necessary for most humans after trauma, but they wouldn't speed my recovery.

Throwing off the covers, I swung my legs over and put my bare feet on the cold tile floor. I turned off the IV pump and disconnected the line to my port in my elbow. It hurt to move my right arm, but as long as I took my time, it was bearable.

Using my good arm, I pushed myself up and went over to the tiny bathroom. I washed my hands and face and swished water in my mouth to get rid of that horrible blood taste. Looking at myself in the mirror, I decided I didn't look that bad. There was a swollen, tender spot on the back of my head that throbbed, but it hadn't broken open. I heard voices in my room and figured I'd better see what was going on. Steve was talking to a nurse, who'd realized I wasn't where she'd left me.

"Hey Steve," I said, my voice a little hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

I was completely unprepared for his reaction. He pulled me into a tight hug that drove the air from my lungs; mostly because I wasn't anticipating that kind of intensity. I patted him on the back with my good arm, wheezing, "Can't...breathe!"

"Sorry, Sarah." Instantly he loosened his grip but didn't release me. I sucked in a deep breath and started coughing, my lungs overwhelmed by the sudden influx of oxygen. The movement sent pain jolting down my arm and my vision dimmed for a second.

"Are you trying to kill me?" I huffed when I caught me breath, "Let Romanoff do it – it'll be quicker."

"You don't get off that easy, Evans." I peeked around Steve and saw Natasha grin at me. "Steve, let the poor girl go so she can get back in bed like a good little patient." Oh good lord! They were all here and I was in an open backed hospital gown.

"Yeah, don't be a good little patient, Sarah," Clint said with a smirk from the doorway, "We're enjoying the entertainment." He slapped Steve on the back as he walked past. I'm pretty sure Clint put some effort into it but Steve didn't budge an inch.

"Things were pretty boring before you showed up, kid." Tony smirked, standing next to Clint.

"How long was I out?" I looked at Bruce, who was just inside the door. He was polishing his glasses on his shirt. I took a step back from Steve, who let go of me to help me get back into the bed. Natasha covered me back up and took a chair on my left.

"Oh, maybe four hours? They had to put you under so they could clean up the wound. Bullet went straight through, missed all the important stuff, like bones, blood vessels, etc," said Bruce.

"And this?" I held up my forearm. "I don't remember this one."

"That happened while I was carrying you to the jet," Steve said. "They opened fire and one ricocheted off the concrete behind us and hit you. Bruce pulled it out on the way home."

"What did I get hit with? It knocked me back, so it must have been pretty big."

"We think you were hit with a .308 based on the damage you received," Natasha said. "That's what Bruce pulled out of your forearm."