The Promise: A Maxerica Fanfiction

The Doctor

A short time later Doctor Ashlar reentered the room. I was sitting back on the cot, tracing circles on America's arm. She sighed contentedly and curled into me, resting her head on my chest.  

I wondered if I had ever been happier than I was in this exact moment.  

The Doctor cleared his throat, "I need to check over Lady America. She just had her last surgery this morning."  

I took the hint and moved to sit on a stool next to the bed.  

"My apologies, Your Majesty, but actually you are going to have to leave for now." I opened my mouth to protest but he held up a hand. "Just until I check that she's healing correctly." 

I glowered at him like an angry child, trying to think up a think of a retort.  

"Its fine Doctor. He can stay."  

I glanced at America who was reaching for a glass of an unidentifiable liquid on a tray next to the bed.  She drank the whole thing quickly, wincing at what I imagined must be the awful medicinal taste.

The doctor watched her, ever attentive, but as soon as she was done he began to protest once more. America sighed exasperatingly and looked at Doctor Ashlar sternly.

"Doctor this is my fiancé we are talking about, he has every right to be here. I will not allow you to send him away. In fact, I forbid you to even look at the wound if he doesn't stay."

I felt my heart just about leap out of my chest when she said the word fiancé and smiled endearingly at the angry, stubborn girl sitting cross-legged next to me.

The doctor looked surprised at the sudden announcement of our engagement, then smiled. "Well, I do believe congratulations are in order."

When he didn't get the response he so clearly anticipated, he sighed and muttered to himself, but let me stay.

I smirked smugly at him, then turned my attention back to America. She was lying on the bed and looked to be completely unconscious.

I scrunched my face in concern and confusion. "Doctor is America all right? She was awake only a few seconds ago."

The physician laughed at my panic-stricken features. "Don't worry Majesty, she's only asleep. That glass she just drank was sleeping medication. She prefers not to be awake when I start poking and prodding at the wound."

I swallowed and nodded, relieved, though I didn't like the words poking and prodding. On second thought, maybe I didn't want to see this.

The thought came too late as the doctor began cutting away a section of the thin, papery gown that America was wearing.

About half of her side was covered by a large patch of bandage. The doctor started removing the bandage, revealing the wound. I took America's limp hand in mine as the color drained from my face.

An angry line of red scar tissue about the length of my index finger stretched across the left side of America's abdomen. The cut had dark, thin stitches down the entire length of it, and a little blood seeped from the wound. Then there were the bruises. Covering all exposed skin were dark bruises. Some were blue, or violet, or green, while some were fading to a sickly yellow.

I could feel bile rising in my throat.

I definitely shouldn't have stayed.

I dropped my head to America's hand that was still clasped in both of my own. I murmured apologies to her hand, caressing and kissing it. I don't know what I sought to accomplish by begging her hand's forgiveness, but it seemed like the only thing I could do. I desperately wanted to somehow take away her pain.

I felt America's hand tighten around mine and looked up. Though she slept on, her body had involuntarily reacted to the antiseptic Doctor Ashlar was currently applying to the wound.

I looked away from the injury. I couldn't look at it anymore.

I instead focused on her sleeping face, memorizing every detail. She had the very faintest of freckles at the corner of her left eye and I studied it intently. Then, I realized Doctor Ashlar was speaking.

"– isn't as bad as you seem to think."

"Really?" I asked skeptically.

He sighed. "Well... it was a very grave wound indeed, but when you consider everything that happened, it could have been much, much worse."

"Just to remind you," I snapped, at the end of my patience, "I don't know everything that happened. Maybe if someone had bothered to tell me... I mean for heaven's sake! I thought America was dead!"

The doctor stared calmly at me while I yelled, then, seeing that I was done, said, "Maybe if you had decided to listen to one of the many messengers I sent, you would have the answers to all of your questions."

I opened my mouth to tell him that I hadn't received any messages, then froze. Oh. While I was throwing a massive pity party and mourning America's death, I had received many messages, both written and oral. And I threw them all away. I stared at America's face, heartbroken that she had been within my reach this whole time, and I hadn't had the brain to see it.

"As it is, allow me to explain." The doctor continued, "After the attack, you were taken to your room and Lady America was rushed here. Shortly after she arrived, she stopped breathing."

I felt my own breath stop.

"It's really a miracle she held on as long as she did. As soon as we got her, we were able to resuscitate her and stabilize her breathing. We immediately went into surgery. America lost a lot of blood, and we needed to do a transfusion, as well as remove the bullet. Because of the gravity of the situation, we had to make the incision quite large I'm afraid, although I generally prefer –"

I cut him off. I still wasn't gettting the answers I was desperate for. "Yes, but Doctor how did she survive? I watched her bleed out and her breathing had nearly stopped before I passed out."

The scene was still vivid in my mind and I knew she couldn't have held on much longer.

"As I said, it really is a miracle she held on as long as she did." Doctor Ashlar paused, "A beginning of an explanation is that the bullet didn't puncture any major organs or arteries."

"How?" This surprised me. My medical knowledge was very limited but I knew enough to realize that this was very odd indeed.

"The bullet lodged in one of her ribs. That's why there have been so many surgeries. To remove the bullet, to set the rib, and other minor things. That's also why the bruising is so intense. The rib was cracked upon impact. Really, your Majesty, it could have been a lot worse. Lady America is lucky to be alive." Doctor Ashlar gave a little half-smile, stood, and left the room without another word.

I stared at America. At the brave, beautiful girl I would get to call mine for the rest of my life.

And I smiled.