#Shots of a hospital bed being wheeled through a corridor‚ there is never any doubt about where the narrative is headed. It's inevitable and

[goingsllightlymad]

Blinded By Your Light - Part 3. On Changing.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Y/N is the definition of ordinary. Studying at a medical school as far as she can get from her rainy hometown of Birmingham, she never expected to be shipped off the Flanders when the war was at it’s peak. Much less to meet a handsome young patient with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she had seen in her life who as fate would have it would fall into her lap.

Word Count: 3474 (again, this one was getting really long so I split it into two parts, so this bit is pretty short and the other one is much longer. It’s pretty chaotic, actually. You can really see my internal screaming shining through!)

Warnings: uhhhhhh “blasphemy” (in that reader roasts Jesus and like three different people tell God to piss off)?? Me writing about Birmingham, knowing absolutely nothing about Birmingham.

A/N: You might think you’ve already read this and “Oh look, — is back on their bullshit” but no! You haven’t! (I was a right idiot and posted chapter 4 (which wasn’t even finished yet) instead of chapter 3 (which was finished), so you probably got a punch in the face with in-contextual angst and a whole lotta plot holes, amigo. 

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When you could stand again, you stood and bought yourself a cup of coffee in the town square. Sitting in the mid-morning sunlight, smoothing down your uniform and watching the children playing football and laughing, you tried to convince yourself that this would be the end of things. In the clearer light it was easier for you to imagine that his face was already fading from your mind, becoming steadily little more than one of the faded posters on the boulangerie wall, yet another reminder of the past quickly disappearing into the morning air. By the time you'd finished your coffee it would have gone entirely.

Or so you tried so hard to believe.

Yet despite all this - despite the surprising warmth of the morning as you took a walk along the banks of the river, despite the flowers blooming beside the river that you picked and arranged in a little bouquet to lay upon your windowsill when you got back to the hospital, despite the way the sunlight looked upon the water and the way you could swear the face you saw staring up at you was anything but your own - the hospital when you returned to it seemed colder and lonelier than ever before, the empty shell that seemed all at once too small to hold you and large enough to drown you into its tall white walls and empty corridors that led nowhere at all now. He was not waiting for you at the end of those corridors. Nothing was waiting for you at the end of those corridors.

You tried to get back to work as normal, but even you could see that something had changed, and things could never be as good as they were before. Every morning was a little colder inside, even though the sun burst brighter and the flowers painted your windowsill red and pink and glorious yellow when you woke, still the days were longer and you went to sleep a little lonelier than when you woke up that morning. It was becoming increasingly clear that there was nothing to keep you here now that he was gone, and you hated it.

You hated the way you still saw him when you walked into the west ward to change the sheets of the last few patients, spending longer and longer in your chamber, waiting listlessly for orders that never came because there was no one here anymore. The war was over; you had won, so why did it all feel so tragic?

And so it was not long before you handed in your notice, taking those last four lonely weeks to wander around the grounds aimlessly, taking in the trees in bloom, the birds that wheeled overhead at dawn when every night you could not sleep for wanting to leave so badly. You'd never seen it all before, all the colours of the sky when the long nights were finally over and the endless days began again as though they never left. Four weeks was all it took, to stand by his bed more than you would like to admit, trying to conjure him back up as he whirled through your mind like the happiest thought that you would never have again. The taste of his lips as he left you, the way he laughed and the sight of him watching as you walked up the hospital aisle every morning, regular as the sun and you loved him a little more every day.

When those four weeks were over at last you packed your bags and left for good, casting one last glance over your shoulder as you resigned those last memories to peace as he cast no letters across that boundless ocean to you. Almost a month, and not a word had come your way. A smarter girl than you might have been over him by now. And as the train carried you out of the station and the nowhere town you left behind, you wondered if the view had been so sweet to him.

________________________________________________________________________________

Quitting medical school had been the easy part. Stepping off the train in Kent, it only took a matter of days before you had had enough of the quaint little villages, so much like the lonely town now far into your past, with their thatched roofs and old boarding schools. Soon enough you were on another train, this time further North, watching the forests of bluebells slipping past out of the train window, becoming grayer, flatter, towns where there was no sun at all as you came closer and closer to where you knew you must now go.

And late that night you were there at last, leaving the station and making your way down the familiar backstreets to the church as you took in once again the dark and dirty streets and drab buildings. The little neighbourhood you knew better than any - Small Heath, Birmingham.

It had been a shock at first - even to you, long away as you might have been, the change was brutally clear and unnerving. Outside the station the buildings were faded now, hung with washing dripping red water thick with the traces of blood onto the street, and you could see the marks of bullets on the walls and drainpipes, shots missed in fights there rarely were before. The town was a shadowy reminder that all the world had changed a little for the worse.

"Ma'am?"

You were shaken out of your dark thoughts by the sudden voice of a station steward, a young boy with deep worry-lines on his face that made you wonder what he'd seen that you could not even imagine. It wasn't good for young boys to look so old. You smiled down at his briefly, and he gestured to the heavy suitcase you were carrying.

"Sure y'got the right stop?" he sounded genuinely surprised, and even before when there was trouble in the streets you had never heard that telltale strain of concern in his voice. It struck you like a slap to the face - he was afraid for you. You felt like you were walking into hell itself.

"Yeah, quite sure. This is Small Heath, right?" you joked tensely, forcing a reassuring smile but he seemed not to register or not to find it amusing as he frowned at you calculatingly, trying to figure something out about you. You tried not to shrink under his gaze, unused to such unusual behaviour and trying to remember something about this from before. Had it really been so cold here before? You couldn't remember being so uneasy.

" 'Fraid so. Y'got anywhere to stay?" he stood beside you, facing the street, but you could see him sneak a glance at you out of the corner of his eye as he said it, as if waiting for your answer with a great deal of interest. Concern. You convinced yourself that you were not unnerved.

"Yeah, I... the church." The words slipped out before you could stop them, the hasty plan concocted on the train even as it was nearing the station. You thought perhaps you had known all along what you had to do, still it seemed unreal to say it out loud, like trying to talk about a dream and having it come out as empty words and the promise of it being greater, grander in your mind when it was yours to live alone. There was some darkness, some curious depth in those simple words that made you wonder if there were some untold fate yet hanging in the stars for you, the promise or the warning of some unseen path stretching before you as you left the train and began again somewhere new. This was only the beginning of things. "My father is the priest."

"Ah." he grunted, nodding and you wondered if it had eased his mind or burdened it. You hadn't been home in so long that you doubted he even remembered you as he pretended to. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, still just a child and working already late into the night. "Two lefts and a right down the back alley." he pointed away and you bristled, his patronising tone getting on your nerves.

"Yes, I know where the church is!" you snapped, exhausted from the journey and exasperated. You couldn't wait to get out of the cold and put down your bags in your childhood room, get some sleep and find it all brighter and friendlier than tomorrow, the Birmingham you remembered instead of the harsh city you somehow seemed to have fallen into in its place.

"Right, right. Meant no harm, just that yer" at this he scratched his head pensively, trying to find the right words to say, "just don't look like yer the sorts that's from round here, s'all." he looked you over once again, and this time you rolled your eyes and, picking up the suitcase barely filled with all that had been your life for the past years, set off down the street.

It was only late afternoon, still you had missed the sunset and found yourself now in the midst of a hazy evening gloom, blueish and thick with smoke and the smell of rain in the distance, threatening and homely and a million other things that you couldn't quite find words for. The streets around you were no warmer than you had feared, the windows shut up against the cold and barred for good measure, doors locked and padlocked. The whole tcity resplendent in its grime and fear and darkness, and you could taste the foreboding like a sore upon your tongue, soiling those chapped lips where once his kisses gave you the truth you had so long been seeking, and once took it away. You found yourself hurrying slightly as you walked down empty streets where you could have sworn there had been life, been light, before. Shivering a little against the icy cold, you could not help your mind straying back to the sunny mornings in the hospital where you had been so sure that summer would come earlier, bring lighter days and brighter hearts but here the cold wold last forever.

And, turning a sharp bend in the street, there it loomed before you - the tall brick walls of the church, single spire pointing up into the starless sky in vindication of some god turned away from this personal hell of a town. You reached around in your pockets for the keys from a lifetime before. In case you ever came back, and here you were before the tall doors, looking on at what you were beginning to fear was a very bad decision. You should not have come back here; you should have stayed away while there was still memory enough to convince you that this city was more than just this mass of shut-up shops and bullet-marks and stories behind every brick and muddy cobblestone that seemed more blood than words to tell.

With that thought still burning in your mind, you unlocked the doors and pushed them open with no small effort, shuddering at the loud groan as they jolted open. Before you the church was dark as night, a single candle at the altar the only sign that here was life at all. You thought you could remember a time when the nights were alive with candlelight, warm and welcoming as though here was some heaven sent down to you in that time when you could still be forgiven. There was no forgiveness here, only the cruel reminder that if there was a better place this was not it, and you doubted you could ever reach it at all. The war was over, and for the first time in your life you had sins enough to atone forever.

You stopped in front of the altar for a moment, looking up at Christ on his cross in the faint glow of the candlelight, shadows like ropes upon his wrists and playing upon his face, and through the half-light you could make out those disappointed eyes staring down at you, distant on his sad height. Once, when you were so much younger, you had asked your father why he looked so sad. Your father told you he was dying, that he loved the world and so he had to die for it. You hadn't understood and he had told you that sometimes when you love something you have to let it go, and let yourself be hurt by it to let you know you really love it. There are somethings you can't not love, no matter how many times they let you down. You thought perhaps you never understood that until now. You took a tea-candle from the rack beside the altar, lighting one carefully and setting it beneath the cross with a quick prayer under your breath and a last glance up at the messiah in his glorious death before your eyes.

You picked up your suitcase again and went on to the door in the back wall of the church, half-concealed behind a thick purple curtain. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you lifted a hand and knocked once, twice, upon the worn wood. A minute or so passed and you considered knocking again when, from somewhere in the backrooms behind the door, there came the sound of heavy footsteps, and promptly a low sound as of the tapping of the door, followed by the clicking of several locks. A compartment in the top of the door slid open, a small opening appearing through which you could see a flash of white hair.

"Who is it."

Your father's voice, but old and tired and with a strain that was more of guilt than of age, so changed it took you a moment to recognise the man you knew behind the door.

"(Y/N)." you murmured, biting your lip to keep from bursting out with emotion at the tired man who came suddenly into view through the window. He looked up at you then, and his eyes met yours, clouded and white and unseeing entirely.

"(Y/N)." he repeated softly, more to himself than to you, reaching up to rub his blind eyes with a trembling hand. "(Y/N)." he shook his head and smiled sadly, and for a moment you wondered if he would turn you away, for even in the blurred white of those eyes you could not miss the shadow that passed across his features, as though he wished you anywhere but here.

Then the shadow passed, and he reached out for the door again. You heard another lock break open, then one more, then the door whined as it opened out. You had not remembered there being so many locks there before. You could not remember there being any there at all. Why would you need locks in a church? You squeezed through the low doorway, bursting out into the small anteroom beyond. There, upon the old kitchen table, were laid out the remnants of a meagre dinner, one place setting and a half-filled glass of whiskey. You couldn't remember your father drinking. You tried to ignore the sound of the locks clicking back into place behind you, the way your father checked them anxiously to make sure they held. You tried not to wonder what he was keeping out.

"Didn't expect yer." he muttered, wheezing a little as he felt for his chair and sat heavily.

"Sorry. Didn't expect to be back. Just sort of happened." it wasn't entirely a lie. You had thought for some time that maybe you should go home, try to start again like you did when you were small. You had thought perhaps that here, where everything had been so easy and free, you could set things right, forget about your winter in Flanders and leave the past to rest. It was only as you were on the train, heading further and further from Kent with every passing second, that you knew that, conscious decision or not, you were on your way to Birmingham. It had seemed almost that fate had a plan laid out for you, though you did not know what it was.

"Glad yer back. Been... different without you. Wish things were better 'ere for yer." his eyes wandered around the room, then snapped back to you as his expression grew more stern and wistful.

"What'd'ya mean?" you smiled at your own accent coming back a little. The longer you stayed here the stronger it became, and it always amused you to hear it slipping through when you least expected it. The american patients at the hospital had used to like the clipped Kentish voice you had got used to using, and you had always laughed at that. If they only knew what you Brits were really like, you bet they wouldn't be quite so impressed.

"Ain't exactly how you left it, thought y'would have seen it by now." he reached for his glass and you pushed it into his hands. He grunted a thank-you and took a long, slow sip of his whiskey. Finishing the glass, he set it down and stared off into the distance with a drawn-out sigh. "It's getting worse out there. People are dying, and there ain't nothing God's got to do about it. 'S evil. 'S getting more and more evil."

You shivered involuntarily at his words, and at the late-March chill that had crept in without you noticing, tugging your thin cardigan closer around you. All of a sudden you wished you hadn't come here. The cold, the darkness, the streets with their laundry soaked through with more blood than water, there was something about it that made you want nothing more than to run away like you did all those years before.

"Church is quiet. Didn't see anyone in there tonight."

He sneered at the wall, laughing bitterly into his glass and tugging at the neck of his wrinkled robe, the figure of a saint abandoned to his God alone.

"The world daren't need a God when they got guns inside their pillowcases. There's no God out there, only hurt and more blood every'day. En't no one in church for days now, and when they are, en't no forgiveness for them too. There'll be darkness coming, judgement and just you watch, none of 'em will be spared. None of us at all."

You bit your lip hard, looking on at the man in front of you as one might look at a spitting serpent, just a little more dangerous and a lot more worrying than you remembered. But there was a moment in his anger that soothed you, because this was exactly the man you had always feared him to be, in those days when his anger would get the best of him and he would come raining down upon you like the hellish words of God turned vengeful. He was quiet, but he was and always had been a little crueller than was normal for a priest in a town of sinners, and you had spent the best part of your life wondering which of him he was entirely - the anger or the sadness that came after. And now you knew exactly, that he was the vengeance of the righteous man that is inside unholy.

"Is my room still here?"

"Course. Didn't know if you'd want it when y'came back." When you came back. He had been waiting for you, knowing you'd come back eventually. No one ever left here, and you were no exception. This grim, grey city had an unusual way of pulling you back in every time you ran away, reaching out with shadowy fingertips to snatch away whatever daydream of a life you had built before you. "Go on. I'll be a little longer."

You went to the stairs, looking back over the bannister and through the hallway doorway to see him sitting alone in the kitchen, staring off into space, his expression a murky mess of turmoil and troubled conflict. Even after so long you could still read him like a book. From a distance he looked so small, a tiny figure hunched over in gowns that were too big for him. The same gowns he used to command a room in, stately and tall. The years had changed more than just you.

"Dad."

He lifted his head in the direction of your voice, blinking as you tried to find something to say to let him know that you had not missed him, but that you loved him so much in that moment that you thought perhaps if you would leave again now you'd miss him this time around.

"It's not so bad."  

You smiled and went upstairs.

Taglist

@actorinfluence @captivatedbycillianmurphy @stressedandbandobessed7771

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommyshelbyxreader #thomasshelbyxreader #fanfiction #readerinsert

[megsblackfirewrites]

Our Bond is Stronger than Death: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“The car isn’t far,” Jack said. “You can go wait in it.”

Jesse shook his head and got to his feet, slapping his old hat down on his head. Why they let him keep the shabby old thing was beyond Jack’s understanding, but even that small token seemed to give Jesse some strength. Jack wasn’t about to take that away from him.

“Not leavin’ ‘til I know what happened to Gabe,” Jesse said stubbornly.

He lifted his chin and Jack had to laugh softly. The kid was half an arm down but he was still ready to fight the good fight. He knew soldiers that weren’t as committed to their job as Jesse was. He reached out and clapped Jesse’s shoulder before he hoisted his pulse rifle back into his arms.

They set off down the corridor, Jesse hissing softly as he tried to find a way to hold his arm that didn’t hurt or interfere with his aim. Jack kept his mind on Gabriel, weaving his way through the facility until he was down in the bowels of the building. He pressed his back against the wall, swallowing as pain laced up through him. Gabriel was close.

“This way,” Jack whispered as he moved carefully along the wall.

“That bond you and Gabe have is freaky sometimes, boss,” Jesse said as he followed on Jack’s heels.

Jack managed a tight smile before he shouldered a door open. He swore and threw himself backwards, staring at the horrific sight in front of him. Jesse, who had been doing his best not to vomit since the surgery, turned away to be sick all over the floor.

“T-that bad?” Gabriel called shakily.

Jack stumbled forward, doing his best not to vomit. Gabriel’s stomach had been cut open so that his intestines were left to steam in the air. Probes were stabbed into his guts, measuring pH levels of whatever it was that called his belly-guts home. Jack could see the base of Gabriel’s lungs expanding as he breathed in and, if he looked carefully, he could see Gabriel’s heart beating. To make it all the more horrific, a screen was set just under Gabriel’s shoulders to keep him from seeing what was being done to him.

“Jack, what’s behind the screen?” Gabriel asked.

“They gutted you,” Jack whispered as he walked forward. “Gabe, can’t you feel that?”

“They have so many chemicals pumping through me that I’m lucky to be conscious,” Gabriel replied as he lifted a hand.

Jack grabbed the trembling hand and gently pulled it to his chest. He leaned across Gabriel’s body, pressing his forehead to Gabriel’s sweat-slicked one. He sent as much love and soothing affection as he could through the bond, reaching out to take some of the pain into himself. Gabriel gently rebuffed his attempt to take the pain, but snuggled down into his love. Typical, stubborn Gabe.

“Nox,” Jack said, “we need that medical evac as soon as possible. Commander Reyes is in dire condition. I can’t transport him in the back of a car.”

“I need something to put on the file, Strike Commander,” Nox sighed. “The medical protocols are not accepting ‘emergency’ without details.”

“Skin of abdomen flayed,” Jack said. “Intestines punctured with test tubes.”

“What the fuck?” Gabriel whispered.

“Muscle mass in abdominal cavity missing,” Jack continued.

“How am I not dead?!” Gabriel shrieked.

“Gabe, ssh,” Jack whispered as he pushed his forehead closer to his husband’s. “We need that evac immediately.”

“Units are already moving towards your location, Strike Commander,” Nox said. “Dr. Ziegler suggests keeping Commander Reyes on whatever painkillers are available to keep him from going into shock.”

“Too late for that, Nox!” Gabriel snarled. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Gabe, look at me,” Jack gripped Gabriel’s hand tightly and squeezed. “We’re getting you out of here, do you hear me? You just have to keep a level head.”

“Level head?!” Gabriel snarled, his feverish eyes widening. “Let me rip your guts out and see how you feel!”

“You’re the one holding all the pain to yourself,” Jack said bitterly.

Gabriel glared at him before he dropped his head down onto the headrest of the medical bed he was lying on. He let out a broken sob and Jack settled down carefully beside him, holding his hand tightly between his own. Jesse stayed by the door, trembling no matter how hard he tried to stop.

Jack injected another dose of morphine under Gabriel’s flesh. Tears leaked fire-hot trails down his face, but he kept his fury and fear internalized. It would do nothing to fool Jack, but Jesse didn’t have to know how much this whole thing was fucking him up.

Jack stayed by his side as the morphine sent a hazy wave of relief through him. The world was foggy around the edges, but Jack was still solid no matter how much painkiller was pumped into him. His solid hand in his, that familiar weight settled on the side of the bed, that soft, ever present smile that said more than Jack ever could; it helped to keep him grounded.

If he said anything out loud, it was for Jesse’s benefit. He and Jack didn’t need to use words; their emotions were as telling to one another as any thousand words were. People often criticized him and Jack for not talking their problems out more, but the truth was, they didn’t need to. All of their dialogue happened internally, a debate that could take hours in real time happened much faster, got side-tracked because someone was humming that damn song again, and then left because Jack had realized that the rerun of Sabrina the Teenage Witch was on and they hadn’t seen this episode yet. It would have been confusing for anyone else to try to follow, especially when they realized how many circles Jack could talk himself into when he got passionate about something, but he and Jack were so old hat at it that it was as natural as slipping on a comfortable pair of jeans. They were talking their problems through even when they were on opposite ends of the base and seething.

“How far out?” Gabriel murmured.

“Three hours,” Jack said as he ran his thumb over Gabriel’s cheek. “Next dosage isn’t for two hours.”

“I’ll be okay,” Gabriel closed his eyes and sighed.

Jesse didn’t make a sound from where he was standing guard. He hadn’t said anything the whole wait; Gabriel didn’t need to see the kid to know that he was horrified by what Gabriel’s body looked like. Jack had reacted just as poorly, so he didn’t doubt that it was horrific. As much as he wanted to know what had been done to him, he knew that it was better that he never saw it.

‘Fuck, I want to puke,’ Gabriel murmured.

‘I’ll hold your hair if you do,’ Jack promised.

‘Brat.’

‘Hey, you married me,’ Jack teased.

‘How could I ever do anything else with you constantly in my head? Wouldn’t you love to hear all the naughty things I would think about my other partner while we’re doing the nasty?’ Gabriel shot his husband a smirk.

‘I would know all of your secrets and you would be in so much shit every few days,’ Jack smirked right back.

“Strike Commander, Medical Officer Ziegler would like an update on Commander Reyes’ condition,” Nox interrupted them.

“He’s still stable,” Jack said. There’s a thin mesh over his innards that’s keeping germs out, by the looks of things.”

“That’s something, at least,” Angela sighed before Gabriel heard the sound of something rustling. “Team managed to hit a slipstream and will be there in about an hour. Just hang tight.”

Jesse was emotionally exhausted by the time the evac team arrived. They were all stronger than him, able to hide their mortification at the sight of Gabriel’s guts out in the open. They wheeled him carefully through the facility, taking his vitals the whole time and ignoring his snarls whenever he was jostled. Jack was talking quietly with the leader of the team, shaking his head as they tried to chastise him for going off on his own without proper backup.

“Jesse, get in the shuttle,” Jack called as he waved towards the open bay door. “I have a few things to sort out.”

“Right, boss,” Jesse saluted before he stumbled into the dropship.

He avoided as many eyes as he could as he sank down onto a seat. He was still in the stupid hospital gown, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it until they got Gabriel secure. His modesty was low priority; he didn’t even care if anyone could see his ass and balls. He tucked the remains of his arm up against his chest and let out a faint sigh as he closed his eyes.

He jolted awake as something landed in his lap, blinking up at Jack as the Strike Commander sat down beside him. Jack looked exhausted and was rubbing at his eyes.

“Change of clothing,” Jack said, indicating the lump of cloth in Jesse’s lap. “We’re taking off in ten minutes, so you’ll want to get changed fast. I can help if your arm screws you up.”

“Thanks,” Jesse murmured as he got to his feet and shuffled towards the washroom.

He struggled with the clothing, angrily shaking the remains of his arm at the second half of everything he pulled out. Jack slipped into the washroom after a few minutes and helped Jesse without a word, buttoning up his jeans and getting his belt set. Jesse pulled the shirt over his head and sighed as he tucked it into his belt. He glanced at Jack before setting his hat on his head.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“You aren’t broken, Jesse,” Jack murmured as he pressed a warm kiss against his temple. “You’ll be okay once we get you back to base.”

Jesse gave his arm a small shake, looking down at the stump. “I…don’t like this,” he murmured. “I’m left-handed….”

“You’ll be okay,” Jack insisted before he hugged Jesse close. “You know I’ll help no matter what.”

“I know,” Jesse murmured as he returned the hug. “We should sit down.”

Jack nodded and they left the washroom. The rest of the evac team was strapping themselves in as they emerged. A few gave them dirty looks, but Jesse ignored them as he settled down in a seat and strapped himself in. Jack went to talk to the pilot and returned a moment later with an exhausted smile on his face. He sank down into the seat beside Jesse and passed out before the dropship had taken off.

Judging by how loud his snores were, he was extremely exhausted.

#reaper76 #gore #bondmates

[waywardchica]

Runaways

Steve Rogers x Reader 

“Scalpel.” Y/N said, as she prepared to remove the bullets from her patients chest.

She quickly got to work. The bullets tore their way straight through the young woman’s sternum and lodged in her heart. Y/N knew it was a lost cause, but she had made her name on lost causes. As she pulled the bullets from the thick muscle lining she smiled. There was plenty of damage, but she’d done a similar surgery in her military days. She carefully sutured up the many lacerations, and handed the reins over to the ortho surgeon to repair the sternum.

As soon as the patient was taken to the ICU, Y/N went to the waiting room in search of the man that had brought the her in.

“Stefan, is Stefan Reese here?”

A tall, bearded man launched from his chair and rushed across the waiting room, stopping before her. She gave him a quick smile, sure she’d seen him before, and looked at the chart in her hands.

“Um, Mr. Reese, my name’s Dr. Y/L/N. We were able to repair Natalia’s gunshot wounds, but I need to know how she got shot, we have to report all gunshot wounds to the police. I mean, I would have reported this anyway, it looks like an attempted assassination. Do you know what happened?”

He said, hesitantly, “I will tell you, but can you take me to Nat as we talk?”

“Fine, but you can’t leave without giving a statement, do you understand me?”

He nodded, and gently turned her towards the elevator. She sighed, and moved ahead of him, scanning her ID to get them up to the ICU. They quickly climbed onto the empty elevator. She turned towards him, and watched, waiting for his explanation. He glanced at her as she raised an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, we were working as private investigators for a few men that were once a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. Ones loyal to the original cause, not Hydra’s. Anyway, we were looking for a group of rogue agents. We found them, and things got hairy. Nat got shot stopping them from leaving the building. We got them because of her, all but one, who ran. They saw her go down, they knew we'd have to come here. Please, just let us leave, and you can tell police all of this.”

She smiled, and shook her head as she said, “I know better than to get in the middle of Hydra and those fighting it. I was military for a while, and I saw what happened to their enemies. If I tell police what you just told me, you won’t make it a week, unless you go off the grid, again, Captain.”

He gave her a surprised look, before staring at his feet, saying, “I guess the beard didn’t hide my identity very well.”

She gave him a weak smile, and said, “Well, I worked alongside S.H.I.E.L.D. when I was just a lowly foot soldier, before I became a trauma surgeon. I was on the stealth team, your team, for a few weeks before getting into medical school. So, I guess you could say I know your face, Ms. Romanoff’s as well, but she looks less like herself. Did you put a face decryptor on her before coming in here? That would have been freaking brilliant!”

Steve gave her an impressed smile, and nodded. As the elevator doors opened, Steve rubbed his neck, and stared at the ground. Y/N sighed as she led the way down a corridor, and into Natasha’s room. Steve ran towards the bed as Y/N slid the door shut behind her. He gently took Nat’s hand, and put his other hand on her cheek. Y/N shifted uncomfortably as a strange surge went through her body. She shook the feeling off, and turned to watch the rest of the ICU.

Natasha finally stirred, and tried to sit up. Y/N quickly ran to her side, and stopped her. She groaned as Y/N pushed her back into her bed. Steve grabbed Y/N’s arm, instinctively, and pulled her away from Nat. She shoved him off and popped him in the nose, before stepping back. She immediately relaxed, and looked between the two. Steve groaned as he rubbed his nose.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to harm you. You would have caused yourself some damage if I hadn’t stopped you from sitting up. You aren’t in the ICU for fun.You just had major surgery. You can’t rush these things.” Y/N turned to Steve. “Sorry I punched you in the nose, but it’s really your fault, you weren’t defending yourself after going on the offensive.”

“You have a point. I  shouldn’t have grabbed you, I’m sure that you were just acting on instinct. I’m sorry,” Steve replied with an apologetic smile.

“Whatever Cap, it’s nothing. As for Natasha here, we need to keep you pretty still. I can help transfer you after my shift. You guys obviously don’t trust me, so let’s get you out of here tonight, and you can act like this never happened. Okay?”

Steve grimaced, and said, “I think I can trust you, Doc.”

“No, I don’t think you’re being honest with me, but thanks for saying it. Oh, call me Y/N.”

Natasha said weakly, “He’s always honest.”

Steve laughed, and nodded, as he gave Y/N a smirk. She rolled her eyes, and went to checking Nat’s vitals, frowning.

“They aren’t great, but you just came out of surgery. I have a couple more patients to take care of, but I will be back in a bit, to check on you. Rest, both of you. I’ll see you soon.”

Steve followed her out. He walked beside her, and waited outside patient’s rooms for her. He stayed at her side even as she filled out paperwork. Steve avoided eye contact with everyone that passed, and watched Y/N. She kept her eyes on her work, but could sense his constant hovering. She smiled to herself, not sure what his reasoning was.

She finally looked up at him and said, “Nat may be asleep, but you should watch her, not me. I promise you, I am not going to turn you in. Go, I will come down in thirty minutes. Hydra shouldn’t find her here, I changed her name, again, age, even gender. No one shoulD know it's her. Go, sit with her. I have work to do.”

Steve sighed, and gently cradled her arm, before walking away. Rubbing his neck, he gave her a quick glance over his shoulder before walking into Nat’s room. Y/N watched him until he was out of sight, shaking her head at the thought in her mind. ‘Damn, that Cap can stare at me like that any day.’ She rolled her eyes, and continued on with her shift.

At midnight, Y/N calmly checked out of work, and made her way towards Nat’s room. She watched the hall as she walked in. Steve slid the door shut behind her, and walked back to Nat. Y/N smiled, checked Nat’s vitals, and sighed.

“Nat, your blood pressure is slightly lower than I would like. Steve I know you had light training in the field, but I doubt you would have the ability to help her, if anything went wrong. Do you two know anyone that has legitimate medical training?”

Steve rubbed his face, and looked to Nat. She grimaced, and nodded. Immediately, he came around the bed, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She gave him a confused look, before looking to Nat.

She sighed, and said, “We can pay you, if you help us for a few days. I know you have a job here, but, we need you. We aren’t exactly in contact with many people. Since the Sokovia Accords, we have had to keep our interactions to a minimum. Please, help us.”

Y/N shook her head, but started pacing, thinking it over. She didn’t want to leave her job, knowing what it would mean for the hospital. She also couldn’t help but be drawn to these Avengers, who just so happened to need her help. She rolled her eyes, thinking of something that didn’t seem to make sense. Steve, she could get to know him a bit better. She mentally punched herself over that thought. No, there was nothing there for him, how could there be with his friend just having been shot?

“Listen, Y/N, I know that you owe us absolutely nothing, but Nat needs someone that can actually take care of her. I know next to nothing about what to do if something went wrong. Please, we need you.”

She groaned, as she looked him in the eye, saying, “I don’t have another shift for a couple days, let me figure out if I can find someone to take care of things here during that time. If so, I will help you guys. If not, I can show you what to look for during the next few weeks. Okay?”

He nodded, and said, “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

She smiled up at him as he came towards her. Steve gently held her elbow, and gave her a look of reassurance. They smiled at one another for a moment. Suddenly, the lights went out.Y/N ran to the door, and took a cautious look outside. The nurses were panicking as they ran into room, the back up lights slowly flickering on. She shook her head, and slid the door closed. She rushed to Steve’s side, and grabbed his arm. He gave her a look of concern, mirroring her own expression.

“This has never happened before. We need to get her out of here. There's a back elevator, for food distribution. I have an emergency key. We have to go now!”

Y/N quickly gathered supplies for Natasha, and began to wheel her towards the door. Steve checked the hall, and found it empty. Y/N led the way to the back elevator, and quickly swiped her key. The elevator hummed as it came from a lower floor. It opened as four men came running around the corner. Steve pushed the bed in, as Y/N  hit the button to the basement. The men ran at them, weapons aimed, as the doors shut softly. Y/N sighed, knowing the elevator wouldn’t go back up with a load already in it.

The doors opened to the basement, and Steve gently pushed Nat into the parking structure. He turned to Y/N, and gestured for her to lead the way. She ran quickly down the parking stalls with Steve keeping pace. As they approached a large van, Y/N pulled keys from her scrub pocket, and remotely unlocked it. Steve gave her a sideways glance as she opened the back doors.

She smirked and said, “I’m a serial killer on the weekends… just kidding Cap… I work for Docs Without Borders. I travel every few months, and I gather the supplies for them. My regular car is in the shop for a few days…”

Steve nodded, and said, “Okay, well, either way, we gotta go.”

She nodded, and watched as Steve lifted the bed and gently placed Nat in the back.

“Hot damn, Cap.”

Nat smiled, and said, “Language. Cap doesn’t like the swears…”

Steve rolled his eyes as he climbed into the back and slammed the door behind him. Y/N laughed as she ran to the front, and jumped in. As they reached the exit a large explosion erupted from behind them. Y/N sped out onto the main road, and drove a few moments. As she stopped, she launched from the van. As she did, the hospital parking garage collapsed. She watched as the hospital began to cave in level by level, falling to rubble.

Steve threw the back door open, and quickly ran to Y/N’s side. She turned her back to the explosion, and burst into tears. Steve grabbed her, and pulled her to him. She fought back, not wanting to be comforted. He refused to release her, and grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides. She shook her head, and pulled her arm lose, using it to shove him away.

“You did this. I forgot how every time you Avengers get involved with anyone or anything, people die! I can’t help you…”

Steve grabbed her by the shoulders, and turned her back to him, saying, “This should never have happened, I am sorry. This is our fault. People are hurt in there, but we can’t save them now. We need to leave. Please, get in the car!”

Y/N slapped him hard across the face, making him topple slightly. Turning back to the hospital, she fell down on one knee, trying to catch her breath. Gaining control of herself, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and stood, going cold. She turned back to him as he gave her a sad look. She looked away from him, and jumped into the back.

“Drive Steve. I will help Nat, but only because you are paying me. When she is all healed up, you guys will move on, and leave this place. Don’t look back.” She said, as she closed the doors, not waiting for an answer.

Steve stared at the closed door until he heard fire engines. He punched it, and climbed into the drivers seat. They sped from the crime scene, and rounded the corner, leaving fire and rubble in their wake.

Part2

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