I groaned as I opened my eyes. Music was playing in the background, though I couldn't tell what the song was.
"Hiya!" a cheerful voice said. I turned to find the source of the voice, grimacing in pain as I did so. I found a girl with long, brown hair and piercing silver eyes in front of me, balanced on a chair with her knees brought all the way up to her chest.
She was tiny, excessively so. The bones in her arms, legs, and shoulders were clearly apparent, her skin too pale to have seen the sun in the last year. Her hair and eyes were dull, the piercing gaze holding back a world of unknown pain, but the smile on her thin face was sincere and bright.
"Hi," I said, my voice coming out sore.
"'Bout time you woke up," she leaned over to check the name on the top of the clipboard at the foot of my bed. "Mr. Rogers."
"How long have you been there?" I asked.
"About three hours. But you've been here somewhere around three weeks it looks like," she said.
"That long?" I groaned. That would explain why my muscles felt tight and sore. Thank God for the serum that made me the way I was, otherwise coming back from this would be torture.
"Yeah, your buddy let me in when I told him I was on the lam from the nurses. He went for a coffee. Should be back in the next five minutes."
I had been referring to how long I had been in the hospital, but I decided not to clarify.
"Which buddy?" I asked instead.
"VA dude. We had a very nice conversation on PTSD before he left." I raised my eyebrows.
"You know what that is?" I asked. The girl scoffed.
"Army brat. Learn it, live it, love it. Not." She rolled her eyes and then glared at the wall for a few moments.
I took advantage of the girl's brooding silence by beginning to move my arms and legs, trying to figure out the damage. "So what're you in here for?" the girl asked. I grimaced.
"I got shot," I said.
"Yuck, hate it when that happens."
"You know what it feels like?" I asked, even more surprised then when she mentioned the PTSD.
"Yeah, been there, done that, sucks to be alive! At least the recovery makes you think so. I can't tell you how many nights I was like 'why God?! Why didn't it just kill me?!'" The girl did a fabulous imitation of a desperate, hopeless whine, including dropping on her knees and reaching her arms to the sky, as in a silent plea towards the heavens.
The spectacle was so ridiculous I couldn't help but laugh, though I quickly regretted it. "Okay, I'll wait until you're better before I do something like that again," the girl said as she very slowly stood back up, noticing my laughter quickly delving into painful grimacing.
"Thank you," I said. The girl tipped an imaginary hat. She pushed herself, once again very slowly, back into the chair and drew her knees back up to her chin. I decided to mimic her earlier question.
"How about you? What are you in here for?" The girl sighed.
"Originally, I was in here because I was comatose. A bad accident happened, left me as good as a vegetable for a long time. Now though, the idiot doctors think my brain was exposed to way too much radiation and so they're keeping me locked up in here. It's so boring!" she complained.
"Too much radiation?" I asked.
"Yeah, apparently it's a miracle I'm still alive, though if they don't let me out soon it's going to be them thanking God for yet another day," she threatened.
"How long have you been in here?"
"Two, dang, months! Since I've been awake! Don't get me started on before that!" the girl threw her arms out, slowly, as she exclaimed her frustrations. She was very dramatic, though reduced physical capabilities, most likely caused by her previously comatose state, ensured she was rather slow about it all.
"Any idea when they'll let you out?" I asked.
"At least not until they find me a new guardian. Until then, there are no complaints about keeping me here longer. The doctors think I'm some kind of miracle and therefore study me at every opportunity. It sucks."
"I'll bet," I said, slightly disturbed at the poor girl's state.
"Well, look who's finally gotten their beauty rest," a familiar voice said. I turned to see Sam walk in the door with a large cup of coffee.
I chuckled. "Hi Sam," I said.
"How you feeling?" He asked.
"Like shit," I replied. "My apologies," I said, remembering the girl in the room.
"No need to apologize. Heard it all before, said it all myself," she said, leaning forward on her hands which were gripping the edge of the stool. I turned back to Sam.
"Bucky?" I asked.
"MIA."
I sighed, rubbing a hand through my hair. It was going to take a long time to track him down again but at least he was alive.
Sam changed the subject. "I see you've met Ms. Nights," he said, ruffling her hair as he stood by her.
"We haven't been introduced yet." Sam looked down at the girl.
"You haven't introduced yourself yet?" he asked.
"Uh… No? Where I come from introductions aren't exactly necessary," the girl said.
"Well, here it's considered polite. Go on and introduce yourself." The girl glared.
"If we're talking about being polite then it's him who has to be introduced to me. Guys are always introduced to the girl, not vice versa," she retorted, lifting her nose in a supposedly dignified manner. Once again, she was very slow about it all.
I laughed. "She's got you there." Sam rubbed a hand through his short hair.
"That she does," he said. The girl sported a triumphant grin as she slowly crossed her arms.
"My name is Captain Steve Rogers. Yours?" I asked.
"Commander Nights Sawamura," she said, sticking out a hand, slowly. I shook it, unable to help a smile at her obvious embellishment.
"You're Captain America, right?" she asked after I had released her hand.
"Yes, ma'am."
"That is so cool," she said, resting her chin on top of her knees.
"What are you doing in here?" a harsh, female voice demanded. Nights jumped, very slowly, before a hurt puppy look came over her features. I turned and found a heavyset nurse in the hallway.
"She's visiting. Is that okay?" I said. The nurse glared.
"No, it is not okay. I know for a fact this mischievous little devil is on the run. You get back to your room right now!" the nurse said.
The girl sighed. "Bye guys," she said, her tone matching the dejected expression on her face. The nurse grabbed her hand and was about to march her back to her room when I called out to them.
"Come back and visit tomorrow Nights."
She stopped a hopeful expression on her face. "Really?!" she asked.
"Of course. Provided the warden agrees," I said, directing it at the nurse. The girl looked up at the nurse, a pleading expression on her face.
"I suppose for a little while," the nurse said, her voice disgruntled.
"Yay! I'll be back as soon as I can!" Nights exclaimed. "Bye-bye!"
"Bye!" me and Sam called after her as she and the nurse left.
"Well, she's certainly an interesting girl, isn't she?" Sam said.
"She's been shot before. And she could carry on a conversation about PTSD with you?" I asked.
"Yup. She knew more about it than I did too."
I shook my head, wondering what kind of a girl Nights Sawamura really was.
A/N: Wow, it's been ages since I've updated or done anything with this fic! I'm home from college for Christmas break and I decided to take on the ridiculously huge task of going through and updating and editing all of my fics, both on this site and on my Wattpad. Whether or not I'll succeed remains to be seen but I've already finished editing my story Ghost and decided to do this one next. It's going to take a lot longer though because this one is a longer fic and the pacing if I remember correctly was absolutely awful. Hopefully, I'll be able to fix that. But yeah! Keep checking back! Good things still coming!