I Thought You Were Different: Part 6

Homeless

"Don't sit up yet," Bruce commanded sternly, knowing that his words were likely being ignored anyway, "your body just went through hell so let's not rush things. How do you feel?"

"Like I could sleep for a week," Steve answered. "But I feel stronger overall...I think. What's the word, doc?"

Bruce crossed the room and grabbed one of his tablets, returning quickly to stand next to Steve and a just-waking Bucky. He studied the numbers as they scrolled over the screen, and waves and lines that marched out their heartbeats and breaths colored it vibrantly and reflected from his glasses almost enough for you to interpret them with him. "So far, things are looking good, Cap. Your vitals are stable, and...wait, hold on," he paused, leaving again only to hurry back, his own adrenaline now surging with relief and excitement. "Stay still for a sec."

"Yes, sir."

"Careful, I could get used to that." The doctor held one of his instruments over his friend as you sat quietly and watched, your breath held in anticipation of what he was about to say. "Wow. Your hip has completely healed, Steve. Let's get you on your feet. Slowly."

On the table next to him, Bucky was beginning to stir and wake, with Sam at his side and ready to know if the man he knew would be the one to arrive, or if the man from Steve's past would remain. "Hey Banner," Sam whispered, "have you checked his brain? Is there any chance-"

"Sam?"

"Hey, Buck," Sam gasped at the sound, sucking in a tense breath that barely filled his chest.

"Man, what the hell happened?" he groaned, pushing himself up to lean on his elbows. "I feel like I got hit by a truck." Bucky stopped and looked around the room at the group of his teammates staring back anxiously, each of them looking like they were either on the verge of crying or breaking out into laughter, he couldn't exactly tell. "Did we die, or somethin'? What's with the creepy faces?" Becca pushed her way through the group and ran to him, throwing herself up on the table and into his arms with a jolt that nearly toppled the newly healed man. "Woah, baby, what's wrong? I'm okay, I promise. I'm okay."

"Dad?!"

Steve had stood and was holding your hand to keep himself steady as he tried his newly healed leg, but his balance shifted at the sound of his daughter calling out to him and he couldn't help but let you go and take her into his arms. "I'm good, honey," he reassured her, whispering into her hair as she held on, "I'm good."

Anthony was next into the room, followed by Grant. As much as he wanted to see for himself that his father was better, his first focus was on you and he made his way to you immediately. What you had done, or at least attempted to do, was just as experimental as Tony's solution, and the dangers of it were the same or greater for all anyone knew. "Mom? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, sweetie," you smiled softly, "just worn out, but nothing that a good nap won't fix."

"What...w-what was it like?"

"Maybe someday I'll talk to you about it, but not yet. Is that okay? I'm still working through it, and I just need to process a bit. I need to talk to your dad and Buck first."

"Of course, anything you need," your son agreed, finally extending his arms out to get the hug he had been waiting agonizing hours for, "you're amazing, Mom, don't forget that. I don't know if I could do what you just did."

"If it were Esihle lying on that table, you wouldn't even second-guess what you could do, Ant. I believe that." You pushed back from his embrace and looked to each of your three, waiting for Brooke to release Steve so that you could take her place in his arms for a moment that you thought may not have ever happened again.