Captain

Part eleven

*Graphic scene

The sunlight shining through the window had just woken me up as Steve and my doctor came into the room.

"Good morning miss (l/n)," the doctor greeted with unexpected energy. "I would like to talk about how we are going to treat your injuries. In particularly your hand," she sighed which worried me.

"Ok, how are we gonna do this," I tried to sound ready for what was to come. The doctor looked at my chart then grabbed an x-ray out of an envelope. She set it on the lighted wall to explain.

"So this is your nose which is probably the easiest thing to fix," she reassured. "Since it's a fairly bad break we will have to correct it in surgery, then you will have to have a small splint for a week or two."

"I think I can live with that," it didn't seem too bad.

"You have lived through worse," the doctor assured me then pulled another x-ray, "Okay this is the gunshot wound," the doctor chimed. "When you got here we were just trying to get you alive, but we couldn't get the bullet out and keep you stable. So you will have a short surgery to remove it." She seemed very confident this would be easy, "after that you will have some soreness but you will be fine."

"Sounds easy enough," I tried to match her confidence, "right?"

"Right," Steve and the doctor replied simultaneously.

"Finally is your hand which has had extensive trauma. We will do reconstructive surgery and put it into a cast designed for this type of injury." Her fading enthusiasm told me this would be rough. "After a few weeks of the cast, we will take it off and then start you on physical therapy, which will be the hardest part."

"Okay," Steve answered seeing me overwhelmed by the x-ray of my shattered hand.

"And... I like to prepare you for the possibility of nerve damage," the doctor shor me a sympathetic look, "with an injury like this it's hard to tell." The doctor left us to process the information she had given.

"They really did a number on you didn't they," Steve muttered while examining the x-rays.

'If only you knew' I shivered trying to keep the horrors to myself. I had gotten a bad concussion so most memories were foggy, but I knew it was terrible.

"You think she'll let me take a walk?" I questioned Steve when the room started suffocating me with silence. I sat up before he answered.

"I'm not sure with your arm all hooked up," he turned to the door, "I'll go ask." I didn't want to cause myself any more pain so I sat still while I waited for him to come back. After a couple of minutes, Steve followed the female doctor back into the room.

She got out a special sling that propped my arm up comfortably on my side. Then she and Steve helped me slide off the bed.

"Ouch," I winced at the pain that shot up my right leg as I shifted my weight. There was no way I would make it down the hall like this, but I refused to give in. I about five excruciatingly small steps before my leg gave out. Steve must have been ready because he grabbed the back of my hospital gown at super speed to keep me off the ground. *Rip*

"How about you let Steve push you in a wheelchair?" The doctor asked as I recovered with a nod. So she left with a mission. I couldn't help but laugh through the pain at the scene that had just played out.

"I think I ripped your gown," Steve chuckled and I reached my hand to my back to find a huge tear that extended down almost the length of the thin garment. Mortified, I realized other than that, all I had on was hospital grade loose-fitting underwear and those fuzzy socks with the grips at the bottom. My attire was really the last thing that I should be worried about in my state but I felt completely exposed.

"Um that's okay do you see a robe or something I could use," I laughed out in embarrassment. Steve quickly looked around the room with no success.

"I don't see anything," the wheels were turning in his head, then Steve had a solution. "Here take my shirt," without hesitation, and to my surprise, Steve took off his top. He adjusted his white undershirt then carefully helped me into the grey cotton tee, "There."

"Thanks," I was honestly at a loss for words as the doctor rolled a wheelchair in.

"Here you go," her and Steve carefully guided me down into the seat. "You can go wherever you want in the tower, just don't be out too long cause you need rest and the pain meds will wear off."

"If this is what I feel like with pain meds, I really don't want to know what no medication feels like," I kinda scoffed.

"Thanks, Dr. Michaels," Steve rolled me out of the room. I didn't even think to ask the doctor her name or maybe I did and just forgot. "Where to?"

"You know this place better than I do," I shrugged, "So where is Steve's favorite place in the Avengers tower?" I questioned genuinely curious. We stopped for a second while he thought about where to go, then the wheelchair began to move in the direction of a place unknown to me.

We went down a couple of floors and stopped at a door that rested in a long quiet hallway. Steve turned a nob next to the door a little before entering.

"Whoa," I whispered at the sight. Before me was a beautiful sunny meadow with all kinds of bright flowers and some trees in the distance. "It's beautiful."

"What? Did you think I was gonna take you somewhere ugly?" Steve teased while rubbing my shoulder.

"Of course not but... Wow!" I wished I could get up and explore. "This can't be real, I mean we're in the middle of downtown New York," I looked up at him over my shoulder.

"No, it's not. Tony said it's something called VR, but I'm not sure what that means," he sighed and I giggled at his lack of modern knowledge.

"Virtual reality," I snickered, "Do you come here often?"

"No, I've only been here twice when Tony first showed it to the team and last night when you told me to go to bed. I tossed and turned so finally I came down here to clear my head."

"I'm sorry." I breathed.

"For what?"

"That you had to see me like that, on the verge of death, no one should have to see that." Suddenly I couldn't face Steve anymore.

"It wasn't your fault," he sighed sitting in the projected grass next to me.

"I know, I'm just sorry," I shuddered imagining Steve holding my wound shut as the pool of blood refused to stop growing. After that we sat in complete silence other than the sound of the artificial blades grass brushing against each other.

An hour or more must have gone by before I noticed the aching pain that shot through my arm, across my side, down my leg, and the throbbing discomfort of my head. The medication was wearing off just like Dr. Michael's warned.

"Steve, I think we should head back," his eyes filled with concern met mine as he got up without hesitation. 'He's too good for me, I don't deserve him.'

He got me back to my room in the med bay before the pain had a chance to get any worse. Dr. Michaels came in gave me some medicine and informed us that my surgery would be tomorrow. At least I wouldn't be in so much pain for too much longer. Or let's hope.