I wake up surrounded by unfamiliar things.

I'm laying in a bed. Several blankets have been draped over me. The room was fairly small. The only furniture was the bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. There was one door in the far corner of the room and another straight ahead on the wall. I have no idea where either of them lead.

A throbbing pain in my shoulder forces me to lay back down when I try to sit up.

Right, the gunshot wound. I had completely forgotten I'd been shot.

I peel back the blankets with my left hand since it hurt to move my right arm. I wasn't wearing a shirt, so I could see the bandages that had been wrapped around my shoulder. A small, rust-colored circle of blood stained the white cotton. Looking further, I spot a large patch of gauze plastered to my side, where the bullet had grazed me.

I don't remember dressing my wounds, so who did?

The door opens with a creak and my instincts immediately take over. However, I lurch forward instead of moving fluidly and a hiss of discomfort escapes through my clenched teeth as my shoulder throbs. It felt like someone had driven a blazing hot dagger through my flesh.

My eyes flick up to glare at the intruder, who had entered the room carrying a small plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"Easy, Buck. It's me." He says.

As if the dirty blond hair and blue eyes weren't enough to confirm his identity, only Steve calls me by that nickname. I relax.

Still, dozens of questions buzzed in my brain.

"How did I get here?" I ask. My throat is dry.

"I heard about what happened and went looking for you. You were out cold when I found you." Steve approaches the side of the bed and sits down. "I know this is overwhelming. You probably have a lot of questions, and I promise I'll try my best to answer them. But for now, you need to rest and recover." He hands me the glass of water and three little capsules that I assume to be pain medication. "Here, take these."

Normally I had an aversion to taking pills given to me by someone else, but this was Steve. I could trust Steve.

I swallow the pills and drain the glass of its contents. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I feel nauseous. When was the last time I ate?

Steve offers me a pack of crackers, smiling softly. Though, that smile soon fades and he sighs.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea any of this was going to happen. I don't even know who took that video of you." He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. 

I frown, quietly munching on a cracker for a moment. Yeah, who did take that video of me? The idea of being watched while I went about my daily routine made my skin crawl.

"By the time I saw the news story, the cops were already swarming my apartment. They were looking through my stuff and I just..." I avert my gaze, feeling ashamed. "...lost it."

Now that I think about it, I probably killed some of those officers. No, definitely.

They were dead. Because of me.

"I know." Steve mumbles, his gaze soft upon me. "You were just trying to piece together your life. They don't know what you've been through."

"That doesn't make my reaction valid." I argue. My eyes fill with tears. "I killed people, Steve... innocent people."

"They were shooting at you—"

"They were still innocent!" My voice trembles as I speak. I push myself up in the bed, not caring how much it hurt to do so. "They were just following orders. I killed them without even having to be given an order. What does that say about me?!" My breath hitches in my throat as hot tears spill down my cheeks. "Maybe I do need to be locked away. Put me someplace where I can't hurt anyone."

"What you need is help." Steve speaks gently. He cups my face, his hands cold against my skin. "And I'm here to help you. I won't let them lock you away, even if you think you deserve it."

I press my cheek against his hand and close my eyes.

I just want this nightmare to be over.

•
•
•

I couldn't stay in that bed. The mattress was so soft, it was uncomfortable.

I push myself up with my left arm. Every movement I made was slow enough that I hopefully wouldn't hurt myself getting out of bed. The pain had greatly diminished thanks to the medicine.

A shiver immediately crawls up my spine as my bare feet touch the floor. I hobble over to the dresser and fish around for a shirt. I found one and slipped it on, only to realize that it smelled like Steve.

Was this one of his shirts?

It was a little big on me, so it had to be. I never realized how much bigger he'd gotten. After grabbing a pair of socks to cover my feet, I leave the room.

I step into a short hallway. To my left was a dead end with a circular window embedded in the wall. To my right, the hallway opened up into a larger room. I can hear something playing on the television. Steve must be in there.

I shuffle to the end of the hallway and pause, frowning as I scan the room. He wasn't in the living room like I had thought.

The sound of ceramic plates clinking together made me jump harder than I should've. I lean on one leg to peer around a pillar into the kitchen.

There he was. His back is to me and he's standing by the sink.

I approach quietly, my footsteps silent as usual. A small smile tugs on my lips as I grow closer. As I come up behind him, I jab my index fingers into his sides—where I knew he was ticklish.

Steve let out a yelp of surprise, jumping so high he nearly hit his head on the ceiling. Okay, it wasn't that high, but it sure seemed like it.

Once he sees that it's me, he sighs in relief and shakes his head, a big smile plastered on his face.

"Gee, Buck.. you really got me!" He laughs. "I guess you're feeling better, huh?"

I nod, grinning widely. Then, my stomach growls embarrassingly loud. "Yeah. Guess I got my appetite back too." I chuckle.

"That's good." Steve turns and opens a cabinet. "What do you wanna eat? I've got plenty of stuff stocked in here."

"You plannin' on feeding an entire army or something?" I joke around, scanning the rows of snacks and whatnot that lined the shelves in the cabinet. All of this food couldn't possibly be his, right?

Steve snickers. "No, actually. It's a safehouse. They're usually stocked with all the essentials."

I pull out a cereal box and read the label. "A safehouse?"

"Yeah, one of many. It's the best place to lay low for a bit while everything is figured out."

"Won't they come after you too? Since, y'know... you helped me escape."

He shrugs, closing the cabinet once I decide to have cereal.

"Probably, but don't worry. I'm not going anywhere." He goes over to the kitchen table and sits down. "This place isn't much, but try to make yourself at home, okay?"

"I will." I say, pouring myself a bowl of cereal and heading for the fridge to get the milk.

While this wasn't the cramped apartment I was used to living in, it was someplace safe. Plus, I got to live with Steve as an added bonus. Seeing his fuzzy bedhead in the morning and his sleepy blue eyes at night would never get old.

I couldn't wait.

This could be home, even if it wasn't permanent.