Old Soul (Captain America/Steve Rogers)

27

<Avalie's Pov>

Things were starting to look up for us. We had all of the Avengers on alert for the threat, we weren't seeing any reinforcements on Hydra's side, and Natasha had stopped bleeding. Steve was starting to stir, and I hoped he would wake up soon.

"I got to get back to my post," Clint tells me as he throws his quiver over his shoulder. "It's getting crowded down there."

"Okay," I reply, threading a needle to stitch Natasha up. "I think we're good in here."

"If anyone comes at you, remember your training," Clint says. "And if there are too many, call for help."

I nod. "Got it."

He stepped down the ramp, taking off into the late afternoon on the break of night. I set the needle to Natasha's skin, sewing up her wound before it started bleeding again.

I couldn't help but think about the shape shifter. She attacked Sam in the parking garage, not too many floors away from us. I would know it was her, but I also know that her combat skills were better than mine. Gun or no gun, I wouldn't be able to beat her.

I wipe up the excess blood around Natasha's now-stitched wound, moving a cold cloth to her forehead like it did with Steve. But Steve wasn't running a fever anymore, so I took his from his forehead. Once I did, his eyes began to flutter.

"Steve?" I say gently, my voice cracking slightly. I didn't realize how much I missed him, and how much I needed him awake.

As his name leaves my mouth, his eyes slowly crack open, squinting up at me. "Avalie," he sighs. He moves to sit up, but I gently push him back down.

"You're hurt," I tell him, lowering him back to the floor.

"I feel better," he replies, trying to sit up again. "I'm healed."

I tried to push him down again, but he fought me, wanting to sit up. So, knowing I couldn't change his mind, I help him into a sitting position, propping him against the wall of the hellicarrier.

"How long was I out?" Steve asks, drawing a hand across his eyes sleepily. I found it adorable.

"Two, maybe three hours," I respond.

Steve flinches as the memory of being attacked slowly came back to him, looking me up and down. "Are you okay?" he asks worriedly, his eyes scanning my body for injuries. When they find the long cut on my arm from where the bullet hit me, he flipped. His eyes grew wide, his strong hands wrapping around my arm in concern. "Your arm! What happened? Are you okay?"

"It's just a graze," I tell him, shrugging it off. "I'm fine. Really. Bucky dodged most of the bullets."

A small grin comes on Steve's face, but his hands stay on my arm. "You met Bucky?"

"He saved my life," I say, maybe exaggerating a bit. But without him, I never would've made it here alive. "He's a good man."

Steve smile spreads, and convinced that I was okay, he dropped his hands. "He is," he agrees. "The greatest one I know."

Steve continues to look around the hellicarrier, wondering what happened while he was out. His eyes land on Natasha, laying still and unconscious. His expression falls, his jaw slightly dropping.

"Wha? How?" Steve gasps, trying to form words in his numb state of shock.

"She's fine," I tell him. "I just stitched her up. She should be awake soon."

Satisfied with this answer, Steve stayed in his sitting position, but his muscles were tense. "Are we winning?" he asks.

"We're getting there," I reply, shedding an unsure smile. "We now have details about the threat. She reeks of green apples and rusted metal."