Trust Me (Steve Rogers Fanfiction)

Chapter 43

STEVE'S POV

I blearily open my eyes to a sterile, white room. A hospital. The iPod on the table plays a familiar soundtrack. Trouble Man.

"On your left," I joke quietly. Sam turns, a slight smile on his face. I notice a deep cut on his cheek, and everything comes rushing back.

I let her fall.

I was so close.

"Steve!" She screamed fearfully. I saw the pain and terror in her brown eyes as she reached for me. But I couldn't save her.

She's gone.

I sit up straight in bed, overcome by shock and grief. "Hey, take it easy," Sam warns, pushing me back. I feel fine, but I don't protest. "You fell pretty far, you've been out for a day or so."

"What happened?" I ask him.

"Fury's men found you on the shore. Someone must have dragged you out, we don't know who."

"Where's Nat?"

"She's fine. She's been handling all of the press for us."

"Fury?"

"Still being a jerk, so fine." He stretches out in the hospital chair and switches off the music. "Alive. With one eye. Same as usual."

"Yeah, okay." I stare down at my hands, then out the window, refusing to acknowledge the inevitable. I lost Buck, and now she's gone, too. I let her fall, just like I let him fall.

"You're not going to ask about her?"

"What's there to ask?" I whisper, my eyes flitting down. No eye contact. "She's gone. It was my fault. There's nothing else to discuss."

"Cap, she's not dead." My head whips up so fast that my neck hurts, but I don't care. I don't care at all.

"What?"

"America's alive," he says slowly, trying to keep me calm. "I had just fixed the suit and was heading to help you when I saw her fall. She hit the water hard, but I got her out. She lost a lot of blood and had some pretty nasty injuries, but she'll heal."

"She's alive?" It seems too good to be true. But Sam's not a liar. He nods, and I believe him. "Can I see her?"

He hesitates, but nods again. After an annoying encounter with multiple nurses and doctors ensuring that I am allowed to check out of the hospital, Sam leads me to another room, one a few rooms down.

She's so pale. That's the first thing I notice. She must have lost a lot of blood. Scratches cut up her face, a black and blue bruise has already spread across her cheek, and someone braided back her reddish hair into a long plait. I sit in the chair next to her bed and immediately take her hand. Cold.

"She hasn't woken up?" I ask softly, rubbing my thumb across her palm.

Sam shakes his head. "She had more injuries than you. Major concussion, stab in the leg, and a few bullet wounds, some internal damage, not to mention the cuts and bruises. They say she'll be okay, though. It just might take time."

"But she'll be okay?"

"Yeah, they keep telling me that, anyway. I kept checking on her."

"Thank you." He nods and takes this as his cue to leave.

"I'll tell Natasha and Fury that you're up. I'll probably be back later."

"Bye, Sam."

Once we're alone, I just stare at her. Even in a hospital bed, bruised and injured, she's still beautiful. Open your eyes, I think. Open them, so I can see the way they sparkle when you joke around.

My eyes land on her phone, sitting alone on a table. Her lock screen is a picture of us at sunrise before a run. I pick it up and scroll through her music library before settling on a playlist of her favorites.

I sit there for hours, holding her hand, ignoring the nurses who tell me visiting hours are over, opening the curtains to let in the moonlight, listening to hours and hours of her favorite songs. It's almost like we're singing in the car again.

"Sitting here wasted and wounded at this old piano, trying hard to capture the moment, the morning I don't know."

I check the artist. Bon Jovi. A band she put on my list of modern things to check out. I sip my now-cold black coffee and sigh.

"While we're talking about all of the things that I long to believe about love and the truth and what you mean to me. And the truth is, baby, you're all that I need."

Moments flash through my mind. When she took the bullet for me in New York. Rescuing her from Hydra. How I used to get jealous when she was hanging out with Thor. Our first date wandering around the city. Holding her in my arms at night as she sobbed. How she would run up, kiss me, and run away before I could react.

You're acting like she's dead, I scold myself, shaking my head. It's just that even now, holding her hand like a lifeline, she seems so far away.

"I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses. For tonight, I sleep on a bed of nails. Oh, I wanna be just as close as the Holy Ghost is and lay you down on a bed of roses."

She probably doesn't know how much I love her.

"It's hard to get through, 'till the bird on the wire flies me back to you. I'll just close my eyes and whisper, 'Baby, blind love is true.'"

America Evans. Valeria Noelle Maximoff. Two names, one woman.

"Tonight I won't be alone. But you know that don't mean I'm not lonely. I've got nothing to prove. For it's you that I'd die to defend."

After I came out of the ice, I was so alone. So different. But she was different, too. She looked at me like no one else did. It was easy to fall for her, and I fell fast. I was naturally protective of her, and she was so thoughtful and kind behind the walls she built to keep others out.

"I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses. For tonight, I sleep on a bed of nails. Oh, I wanna be just as close as the Holy Ghost is and lay you down on a bed of roses."

I stay awake all night, only leaving when Sam returns at around seven in the morning. Then, I buy a single red rose from the hospital's shop and place the lonely flower in a glass vase. Each day she's asleep, I add a new one, and each day, the bouquet grows.

New chapter. I'm really proud of it, but it's definitely sadness hour.