Racing Hearts

8. Check It Twice

When I wake, I find my crew scattered across the room huddled together in sleeping bags, curled up in blanket nests, and sprawled across various conglomerations of miscellaneous hospital furniture.

Unsurprisingly, Bucky is keeping silent vigil over us all. He's sitting by my side with my hand in his. His eyes are focused on the monitors over my head. The reflection of my heart monitor is in his eyes. It's a little unsettling, but I know that he's probably torn himself to shreds on the inside for not getting me the hell out of there before it could happen.

I squeeze his fingers to let him know I'm awake, that I'm here, that he doesn't have to beat himself up anymore.

"Hi, Stevie, baby," he coos, a sunbeam smile lighting up his face as his eyes dart toward mine and he moves closer to me, ecstatic that I'm awake. "How's my sweetheart?"

"I'm okay," I say softly, smiling as he gently presses a kiss to my forehead. "Happy to see you."

He hums in agreement and wraps my hand in both of his. I relax, finding peace in his presence and the warmth radiating from him.

"How do you feel?" He asks me after a moment.

I take a second to determine just exactly how I feel. I'm not in a lot of pain, or at least not enough to notice. I'm sore, though, and I can tell that I've got a handful of broken bones just from the bandages and casts on me.

"What do they have in my IV right now?" I ask.

     "Morphine," he says. "Why? Does something hurt? Do you need more? I can go get a nurse if you want."

      "No, I'm okay," I tell him, "I feel fine. Well, fine enough, I guess. I'm sore and tired, but fine otherwise."

     "No pain?"

     "No pain. Just sore."

     "I'm glad you're not in any pain. You snapped both bones in your left forearm and a couple ribs on your left side."

     "Anything else?"

     "No, you've been beat to hell, but you were lucky. You came out of it without a concussion, spinal trauma, internal bleeding, or hemorrhaging."

      "I could've swore I whacked my head when I was spinning."

      "Why do you say that?"

      "At one point, after the car stopped moving, I felt this wicked bolt of pain just bounce around inside my head like a pinball. It hurt like hell."

      "They did a CT and MRI but didn't come up with anything. You sure you hit your head?"

      "If I have to give a definitive answer, yes. I'm sure I did. Check the footage from my visor cam."

      "I'll ask Tony to review it once he wakes up. He fell asleep an hour ago. He wouldn't stop pacing out in the hall until after he personally called your mom, his board of directors, and every single NASCAR executive possible."

     "Why did he feel like he had to call so many people?"

      "He's going to pull all Stark-Chevy cars from the fleet unless the crash is investigated to the fullest extent possible. We don't know if they're going to do that yet. He thinks that they may have been tampered with. Rumlow wasn't able to move his steering wheel. Your belts didn't lock until you were hit. All Tony needs is an answer."

    "When are they supposed to give us an answer?"

     "They've been awake all night discussing it and are supposed to give me an answer once I call to let them know that you're awake," Tony says as he sits up from his blanket nest on a rollaway cot near the window. "So, I should know where we're going from here in about five minutes."