"You are not dreaming. It's time to be an everyday hero." — Life Is Strange: Episode 1 (2015)

She had told Sam to go home. He had looked up at her with bleary eyes and just nodded slowly. Silently, he turned off his iPod and vacated the hospital room's one uncomfortable chair. Natasha slipped past him and settled down in it, pulling her hoodie tighter around herself. Sam seemed to hesitate, looking between the redhead and the sleeping form of Steve Rogers next to her, still hooked up to his IV and covered in fresh bandages.

"You sure I can—"

"I've got this, Wilson," Natasha assured him softly, peering out from underneath her dark hood, her green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light from a nearby lamp.

Sam sighed, running a hand over his tired features.

"I just worry, y'know?" Natasha nodded but Sam was looking over at Steve. "I already lost one buddy. Guess I don't want to lose another one… not after all of this."

Natasha shifted in the chair and looked at Sam curiously.

"You didn't have to get involved," she said quietly.

Sam nodded again, barely registering the motion. He shrugged and leaned against the doorframe close by, crossing his arms with his jacket draped over them. There was a lull, a silence that didn't need to be filled. Natasha's words were honest and direct but not ill-intentioned. Without Sam — without Falcon — she wasn't sure how any of this would have turned out. She was glad to have him, just as Steve had been as well. Natasha just hoped that Sam himself didn't have any regrets. She and Steve lived very different lives than what Sam must have been used to; dealing with spies, an infamous Soviet assassin, and a super soldier wasn't quite the same as serving with the army.

"Hey, I said that if Captain America needed me…"

Sam smiled faintly and looked over at the redhead half-concealed in shadow.

"Didn't know exactly what I was signing up for but even now, if Captain America still needs me, I've got his back."

Natasha nodded once, apparently satisfied. She glanced at Steve's still form. The only movement was the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. He was doing well but that didn't seem to stop Sam from spending long hours at his side. Natasha would have as well but she told herself she needed to stay away until she found a new cover, for his safety. But damn if it didn't hurt to avoid him. He never knew when she came at night, if just for a few hours.

"I got your back too, if you ever need it," Sam said suddenly.

Natasha looked up sharply, eyeing him narrowly. Sam held up one hand, pretending to be startled, but he was smiling more now. He was comfortable around her, Natasha noticed. It was not as if he had not heard the same as everyone else now that her past was public knowledge. Sam didn't seem to care or, if he did, he had decided to reserve his judgment because whatever he had heard, none of it was about the same woman he had met. Or, at least, that was what Natasha hoped. Maybe she had changed just enough that good people like Sam could look at her without fear or hatred.

"I don't know what's going on in that head of yours," he said seriously, looking Natasha in the eye. "But I know that the next little while is going to be hard on everyone. Steve wants to go after that Winter Soldier guy and you have your own stuff to sort out. I won't pretend to understand all of what's going on here but I'm in it for the long haul. It wasn't just for fifteen minutes of fame and glory. Life is strange, I'll give you that, but if you've got my back, I got yours."

Natasha blinked owlishly. Sam took that as a good response. She clearly hadn't been expecting that, he thought. He turned toward the door again, this time getting ready to actually head home for the night. A soft voice from behind stopped him.

"большое спасибо… " A pause. "Thank you."

Sam draped his jacket over one arm and gave her a small, informal salute. He could see the corners of Natasha's lips curve into a smile.

"Anytime you need something, you give me a call. Need a place to crash? You know where to find me and, if I'm not there, I'll know who picked the locks once I get back," he teased. "Goodnight, Natasha. Look after him until I get back. And, by the way, it's just Sam."

"Goodnight, Sam."

He watched for a moment longer as Natasha pulled his iPod off of its dock and started scrolling through the playlists for something to quietly listen to while Steve slept. Then he turned and walked out of the room and down the silent hospital corridors. By the time he came back the next morning, she was already gone, to only God knows where.

When Sam returned home again, the next night, he found his back window unlocked and a small piece of paper folded underneath it. There was a quickly scrawled set of numbers on it — a mobile number.

For Steve's and your eyes only. Emergencies only. (Long distance is expensive, you know.) Удачи*.

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head, pocketing the piece of paper. 'Emergencies only', it said. He wondered when the next one of those would be. He had hoped that he and Steve could get a break for awhile once the super soldier was released from the hospital but this was Captain America and the world of superheroes he was talking about.

Yeah, life was strange, that's for sure.

* "good luck"