The Silence Between Us (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Part Seven

           

Coming to Forson was stupid. Sure, it's your only option if you're going to escape the ever-tightening noose that is the Avengers' Compound. That doesn't mean trusting Forson isn't dumb and desperate and a betrayal of Sam and Wanda and Bruce and... Steve. Your heart wrenches.

You wait in a standard examination room and look, unseeing, at the mass-produced, abstract art that somehow finds its way into every hospital and clinic. Medical facilities are all the same. The same white walls, the same year-old magazines, the same expressions of polite concern. Follow me. Can I get you anything? How do you feel? Eyes filled with questions you can't answer, even if you could speak.

Forson comes into the room, adjusting his glasses as he does. "I'm glad you contacted us." His smile is a little too broad, more like a dog baring its teeth. He squeezes your shoulder, a touch too familiar for your comfort.

Forson does some preliminary work, drawing blood and making a thorough examination of your throat. He chuckles a little when he slips up and asks you to say 'ah'. You don't smile. This isn't a game to you. You want to find out what treatment he has in mind and get it over with as soon as possible. And the longer you stay here, the more you think about leaving all together, cure be damned.

"After that mess at the gala," he says, "I wasn't sure what had happened. Then seeing you all over the news... I thought for sure the Avengers would have their paws on you. But, I really think we can help. Gamma radiation really isn't a toy."

Gamma? How did he know about that? Bruce said no one at the hospital had run your samples for radiation. You hadn't mentioned it. But during your recovery... Forson pushed you into using your voice, into revealing your powers. How could he have known? But... he had. From the first day he came to your hospital room. What was a specialist from New York doing in an L.A. hospital in the first place?

Oh god—you recognize him. Not just from the gala or your recovery. From the hospital. Walking past the fountain. Before the explosion. Before. That's not—that doesn't mean—but he had been there! You saw him walk in. There was no way... He was inside the building for the first explosion. He should have been injured. Unless...

Forson leaves and you make a circuit of the examination room. Then another. Your stomach twists. There's nothing out of the ordinary here—nothing that would tip you off that something is wrong—but something is wrong. You feel it under your skin.

They never found the cause of the explosion. No one took credit for the terrorist attack. Because it wasn't a terrorist attack. What had Bruce said? That gamma by itself might cause changes. Unpredictable changes. What if someone like Forson knew that? What if that's why they flooded the hospital with radiation?

You try the doorknob—no luck. Not that you were hopeful. You think of Forson's overly familiar smile. If they're trying to keep up appearances... You knock on the door and wait until you hear footsteps in the hall. You give the nurse that answers an apologetic smile and hold up a post-it. Bathroom? 

Her face falls, but only for a second. The smile is back in place before you can process the look that had replaced it. She leads you down the hallway, past dozens of closed doors, to a room with a single toilet. You smile politely when you close the door. Then you wait. You've been a nurse; you know it's coming. So you wait and wait and wait for the inevitable to happen.

A commotion erupts further down the hall. Someone screams incoherently. Doctors yell for help. There are a few seconds before your nurse's footsteps hurry away from your door. Yep, unruly patient to the rescue. You slip out of the room and down the hall. Locked door, locked door, locked door... Aha!