"Sir, please stay back," the doctor ordered, pushing Steve away with a gentle nudge just to make his point that he was in charge. He gingerly removed the tube and waited; he waited a few agonizing seconds before you finally took your own breath and began to cough incessantly. "That's normal," he reassured. "It should pass in a few minutes."

Steve and Tony waited patiently, watching the rest of the team file into the room and stand along the far wall, where they were just able to see you without interfering. The coughing subsided fairly quickly and the doctors backed away, but one of them took Steve's arm and pulled him close enough to whisper, "Captain, if we could talk for a moment?"

"Yeah, just one sec," he said and pulled away, hurrying to your side as you calmed yourself. "Hey, honey, you're okay. I'm right here." He took your hand in his and watched, patiently waiting for you to say something, finally, after such a long time feeling terrified that he would lose you again.

"Steve," you said in a voice that he could barely hear, rough and gravelly from the tube that had just been removed. "I can't..." you faded and began to cough again, each word stinging your throat with a biting dryness.

"It's okay, don't try to talk, (Y/N). Just stay quiet, it's okay."

"Captain," the doctor summoned again, "please, it's very important that we speak."

Steve turned to look at the man, his face filled with annoyance at the interruption; he wanted to focus solely on you, seeing for his own eyes that you would be okay. He wanted you to know that you were his only concern. "In a minute," he hissed quietly with a stern tone.

"Steve," you began again, your shaky grip on his hand tightening, "I can't move."

~~~

"The paralysis may be temporary," the doctor said calmly, hoping his tone would keep the team that way; Steve and Tony in particular. "But, there may be permanent changes, and we won't know that for sure until we can focus on rehabilitation. She needs time to heal before we can even think about that." He stood from his chair and walked to a large screen at the front of the conference room, images taken of your injuries highlighted across them. "The bullet entered here," he pointed, "grazing this area of the spinal column. A few millimeters more and we wouldn't even be having a discussion about potential recovery."

Sam was sitting to Steve's left and Bucky to his right, watching Steve as he listened and then closed his eyes as the doctor finished, leaning forward on the table to rest his head in his hands. "Hey, Cap," Sam reassured quietly, "she's got this. (Y/N) isn't going to give up, and neither are we. We're gonna help her, okay?"

"This is my fault," Steve mumbled, "if I had aimed the shield differently...or taken the hit instead..."

"Don't go there, man. Don't go to a dark place."

"How do I keep doing this to her, Sam? No matter what I do, I'm never good enough. After everything we just went through, and after losing her, I finally get her back and look what happens." Steve leaned back and stood, forcibly pushing his chair in with a slam against the table. "But that's going to end right now."

"Wait, what are you gonna do?" Bucky asked, standing now at Steve's side. Steve barely acknowledged him, rather looking at Tony intently on the other side of the expansive table.

"Hey, Stark, remember that plan I wanted to tell you about? Well, it's time."

~~~

With your eyes closed, you could focus on the sounds around you; the mumbling doctors across the room, talking about you as if you weren't even there, the rhythm of your own heartbeat on the monitors, the smell of antiseptic and medicine and the sting it made in your nostrils and into your chest, and the lack of sensation anywhere below your waist. Every time your mind went back to that final observation, you forced it back to focus on any of the others. But it always came back around.

Your heartbeat.

The mumbling doctors who were too chickenshit to talk to you directly.

The nauseating smells.

Your legs were useless.

"Hey, doll," Steve said quietly, pulling up a chair next to your bed. "How are you doing?"

You wanted to talk to him, you really did, but your words wouldn't come. You felt like any attempt at talking to him would only bring sobbing and incoherent sounds, so it was best to just stay quiet. Instead of answering him, you turned your head away and kept your eyes closed.

"(Y/N), don't do that, please." His hand reached up and took yours, but you pulled it away. "Baby, please don't shut me out." When you remained quiet he leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, bringing his hand up to attempt to push away the tears that were building in his eyes. He was already torturing himself for his part in what had happened, even though it was officially called a freak accident. It killed him to see you like this, and your refusal of him was almost too much. "We're going to get through this," he whispered.

"Go away."

Steve's hands fell away from his eyes quickly, his face filled with disbelief and pain. He opened his mouth to reply but paused, closing it again and nodding silently in acceptance of your wishes. He was going to be at your side, no matter how many times you pushed him, but today wasn't the day to start pushing back. It was too soon.

"I love you," he replied, a crack in his quiet voice. "I'm not going anywhere, (Y/N)." He stood at your side and leaned down to kiss your cheek, though you were still turned away from him. "Please...please forgive me."

As he left, your senses barraged your mind again, continuing the cycle of torture that it had been putting on you for countless hours now.

The sounds of the love of your life's footsteps fading away.

Your heartbeat.

The fucking doctors still talking about you.

The sting of tears in your eyes.

Your legs were useless.

~~~

"Okay, we're gonna take this one step at a time, (Y/N). Literally. I want you to put your right foot here," the therapist pointed to the ground, only inches from where your foot was currently resting.

You took a deep breath, exhausted from having spent most of your day working on this, feeling like you hadn't made a single bit of progress since the day before. "We've been working for two weeks now. This is pointless."

"(Y/N), two weeks is nothing. We talked about this, remember? In two weeks we've got you standing with these rails and you've taken four steps. To me, that's progress," the therapist turned to look at your guest, knowing where to find support. "Isn't that right, Captain?"

All Steve could do was nod in agreement, his eyes fixed on you intensely. Sam was sitting next to him, both men there despite your request to work alone. When he said he wasn't leaving your side, Steve was definitely a man of his word.

"You're doing amazing, (Y/N)," Sam agreed, nudging Steve with his elbow to pull him from his stare. "You're a hell of a lot braver than I am, that's for damn sure."

"I asked you two not to be here," you hissed between clenched teeth, struggling to keep yourself upright despite the second therapist holding onto the support belt around your waist. "But who listens to me anymore?"

"Stop it," Steve sighed quietly, his gaze dropped to the floor. "Please stop doing that, (Y/N). You're just as much a part of the team as you ever were."

Your hand slipped slightly from the bar but you caught yourself before you could drop to the ground. Steve saw this and jumped up reflexively, but sat again when you glared in his direction with a warning to stay there. "Oh yeah, Steve? This really looks useful, huh? Maybe if we strap me to your back like your fucking shield, I could get back in the action. What do you think, Wilson? I look good to go, right?"

"(Y/N)..." Sam began, but stopped when the therapist had you step again, this time turning your ankle and dropping you harshly to the mat in front of you. Both men were standing immediately but were blocked by another watcher who had just entered the room from his view in the observation room above.

"Get up, (Y/N)," Clint barked at you.

"Go to hell, Barton," you snapped back, pushing yourself up to sitting as best as you could.

He knelt on the ground in front of you, taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him. "Get your ass back up on those bars right now, (Y/N). You want progress? Well, honey, I'm here to tell you that you're about to get it."