Captain On Ice

Chapter 9 - Final Chapter

Steve awoke the constant humming of machinery and the faint sense of something wrapping itself around wrists and ankles, not to mention the incredibly uncomfortable tube that was shoved down his air passage. It took every ounce of effort he had not to cough or gag, for any small movement would trigger his captors that he was alive and ready for interrogation. He tried not to move a muscle, instantly recognizing the familiarity of being strapped down to a bed. He had to get out of here.

He dared opening his eyes a millimeter and instantly regretted it, a bright light scorching his tired retinas. He could make out a figure in the chair next to him, dressed in deep blues and blacks, a hood over his face as he was slumped over with the latest issue of a gossip magazine tucked snugly against his chest. Steve made the slightest movement with his arm, hoping to tell if the person was awake. When there was no response, Steve decided that it was either now or never to test his luck. With a swift tug, the two leather straps bounding his arms to his bed gave way with a satisfying snap.

Steve heard a confused "huh?" coming from the figure beside him, but he gave the man no chance to respond, rolling over the side of the bed. Unfortunately, it slipped his mind that his ankles were still attached to the footing of the bed, and instead of landing gracefully on the floor as he had planned, Steve was dangling over the bed with his two legs still attached, anchoring his lower body to the top of the bed as his head smacked the ground with a sickening thud.

His world started spinning, and the walls moving at a dizzying pace as the humming of the machines slowed to an ominous, almost demonic growl. When his arms stretched outward to steady himself, he felt something hot on his torso, and ow, it hurts like a sonofabitch, too. He glanced down again to see his mint green gown had turned a menacing red that emanated from where the pain began, and it was spreading farther and farther away from what he assumed was his wound.

Not good.

Never one to take his time recovering, Steve kicked, snapping the foot of the bed, releasing the leather straps and sending Steve falling the rest of the way to the ground. He quickly hopped to his feet and made a beeline to the door, not caring enough to deal with his guard. Just as he entered the mini-hallway, he was stopped by a woman with dark jeans, black leather jacket, and fiery hair that almost matched the intensity of her stare. Almost.

"Going somewhere, Captain?"

It was Natasha. Taking a moment to steady himself and regain his balance, Steve realized just how tired he was. He slouched over, hand against the wall, with the faint glistening of tears on the corners of his eyes from when he, somewhere along the way, yanked the breathing tube clean from his lung. He was now taking in long, deep breaths, practically wheezing. There was something strange that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he knew that he hadn't had this much trouble breathing in years. Since before the serum.

"The doc said you'll be out of breath for a few days. Those are the consequences of a collapsed lung." And a dumb brain for doing this to yourself, Natasha told herself. "Just don't exert yourself too much, and you'll be back in shape before the end of the week. Other than that, you'll be fine. The only affected cells were the blood cells, so you'll still have your strength, but you won't have your endurance or stamina because you're used to your hemoglobin working on overdrive to send oxygen around your body. They just want to keep you under observation a few days."

She examined the man in front of her, glowing from perspiration, blood staining his hospital gown, and his hair an oily mess - a far cry from the neat, freshly-combed style that she was used to. She looked back at the blood on Steve's gown and sighed slightly.

"Let me get you a doctor. Looks like you tore your stitches again," and Natasha was off. Not a moment later did she return, grasping the elbow of a frightened young man wearing a white coat. "Fix him," she pointed to Steve. The doctor led Steve to the bed and laid him down. He lifted the hospital gown, and Steve blushed at the fact that Natasha was there with a full view of his bare torso. It took the doctor only a few minutes to stitch Steve back up before advising him not to stretch too much. The doctor left without even looking up at Natasha, afraid of meeting her eyes. He didn't even bother to bring Steve a new gown.