Latent Truths - Chapter 12 - Indygodusk

Steve jerked awake, but when she opened her eyes, she couldn't see anything.

For a moment, terror gripped her. Was it truly that dark... or had the super soldier serum finally failed? Was she blind?

No. Wait, the dials on her vision were only set too low. If she found her normal vision levels, she'd be able to see again.

Too bad normal was so hard to find.

Switching focus, she used her other senses. Based on the echoes, she was inside a small room. Voices full of stress and pain cried out nearby. The heavy scent of industrial strength, sentinel-friendly antiseptic overpowered everything else except for the scent of blood and death she carried with her.

A man walked into the room, opening and closing the door. He wore Old Spice brand deodorant. She knew because…? Because Sam had once given her some as a joke. Steve heard the clacking sounds of a closing shower curtain and then the man moved up to the bed where she lay. Closing her useless eyes, she made sure to keep faking sleep.

Suddenly the man grabbed her arm. He slid a cold metal rod beneath the edge of her uniform, but it wasn't a rod, it was scissors. The sound of the metal shears snipping closed felt like an air raid siren as he began cutting off her clothing in preparation for who knows what.

One of Steve's recurring nightmares involved being vivisected for the secrets of the super soldier serum.

But they'd forgotten to tie her down. Exploding into action, she snatched away the scissors and rolled off the opposite side of the bed. An IV ripped out of her arm with a sharp tug of pain and wet splatter. The man shouted in surprise.

Steve wanted to fight, but her legs refused to support her weight, sending her crashing to the floor. Scrambling, she heaved her body over until her back faced the wall, shifted the scissors in her hand so the blades faced out, and desperately struggled with her vision, finally getting the room to swing into focus.

A man with sandy blond hair, dark shadows under his eyes, and green scrubs stood on the other side of a hospital bed with his hands raised. He wore a badge that said Nurse Pike. "Calm down, Sir. You're safe. This is the hospital. I'm a nurse. I was just trying to get rid of your dirty clothes so I could treat your wounds. You were hurt in that crazy unicorn attack downtown and they brought you here, don't you remember? Sir?"

Steve nodded slowly and tried to let go of the adrenalin. To be honest, most of the battle was foggy after she'd reached the school bus, but there was an ambulance and Bucky in there somewhere. A hospital made sense.

What else had happened?

At the bus, a young man had been hurt, the enemy attacked in overwhelming numbers, and something in Steve's mind had taken over, shutting down everything but that need to protect her charges and revenge her mate—or rather, the injured boy who'd looked like Bucky.

Through the haze of blood and battle, she distantly remembered Clint saying something important, impossible, and true, but what had it been? Then the beta Sentinel—no, Natasha—Natasha had come and taken the children to safety. Unable to stand down with so many left to protect and so many foes still threatening, Steve had returned to the battle.

Then Bucky had come and made everything better... before leaving again. Bucky always left. There was something fundamentally wrong about Bucky always leaving… but hadn't Steve been the one ordering him to go?

Maybe there was actually something fundamentally wrong with Steve. Why did she do this to herself? Did it have to be this way?

"Sir? You need to get clean before we can treat your wounds. Can you tell me your name?"

When Steve just stared at the nurse mutely, feeling exhausted and sad, the nurse moved on, "Okay, well, you'll need stitches after we disinfect all those wounds, but the good news is that the triage doctor took a quick look and doesn't think you'll need surgery. You're very lucky. The EMTs who dropped you off made you sound much worse off. Do you have any sharp pains or empathic or sensory issues we should be aware of? Things are a little crazy right now with all of the patients, so if we missed something, you need to let us know right away so we can help you."

The man's breath smelled like salt & vinegar potato chips overlaid with peppermint candy. Combined with the scent of his Old Spice deodorant, it made Steve feel nauseous.

Shaking her head, Steve forced herself up off the floor. She wanted to stand, but didn't have the strength. She didn't trust the nurse enough just yet to make herself vulnerable by laying down in the bed again. Instead, she carefully lowered herself into a nearby chair. Her senses were oscillating up and down, but she was doing her best not to let on. "I'm fine."

Nurse Pike gave Steve an unimpressed look and stepped forward. At least he didn't move like a man with combat training. Even injured, Steve could probably overpower the man if necessary. "That's what I'm here to make sure of, Sir. Now that you're awake, I'm going to help you into the shower chair in the bathroom and we'll soap you off and get you into a clean gown. Can I have my scissors back?" He held out his hand commandingly.

After a moment of hesitation, Steve passed them over. Seconds later her sense of hearing slid off kilter. The sound of the nurse's heartbeat and rhythmically clenching intestines burst into her ears like a brass band. She wanted to curl up with her hands clenched over her ears. Instead, she focused on breathing evenly and waited for it to pass.

"We have a lot of patients left to treat today, so let's get you cleaned up in the shower. Then the next free doctor can have a look at you, make sure we didn't miss anything internal, and get to those stitches." Nurse Pike had big hands covered in hair and calluses. Steve didn't want those hands anywhere near her, especially not her naked and vulnerable body, nurse with no combat training or not.

Steve's hearing returned to normal, but now her taste vacillated between overwhelmingly fruity ketosis to the blank fuzz of burned off taste buds. Her senses may be all over the place, but the pain radiating throughout her body and mind was a constant. Everything felt strained and overtired. Steve unexpectedly ached for her long-lost mother's gentle, soothing touch.

She didn't have it in her to compromise right now. "No," Steve said stubbornly, scraping up the energy to add a polite, "Thank you."

Mouth going tight, the nurse crossed his arms and took a deep breath. "Sir, you have to get cleaned off, the sooner the better. You have a multitude of cuts and bite wounds hiding under those field bandages. Who knows what diseases were growing in the mouths of those unicorn creatures? Even a normal animal bite is filthy and can cause tetanus and severe infections if left untreated. Step one is soaping the wounds thoroughly."

Setting her chin, Steve said, "I can clean off on my own."

"Hospital policy won't allow me to leave you alone in your unsteady state. You could fall and injure yourself worse," he said impatiently, the lines on his brow deepening.

"Then I'll wait for a female nurse." Steve primly crossed her arms and sat back into the chair like an immovable rock.

Nostrils flaring, Nurse Pike's ears went red with temper. "I'm completely capable of helping you in a professional manner, Sir. It could take some time for a female nurse to become available since we're operating over patient capacity with the emergency."

"Nevertheless, I'll wait." Steve stared him down. "It would make me more comfortable."

Over the hospital PA, they called out a spate of emergency codes and the arrival of a new flock of patients. Steve sympathized with the overworked nurse, but she would not be swayed. She didn't want him touching her.

Rubbing a hand over his head, Nurse Pike grimaced and sighed in defeat. "Fine, you seem stable enough for now. At least move to the bed while you wait. Let me tape some gauze over where the IV came out and put on a heart monitor on case you crash and can't call for help. If you do need emergency help, press the red button on the bed. One of our staff will come as quickly as possible." Putting words to action, Pike worked efficiently and then left without a backward glance.

Settling in, Steve did her best to blank her mind, ignore the pain, and not obsess over how her team was doing fighting without her. She dozed fitfully.

Some time later, a female nurse finally knocked on the door and came into the room. "Hello, Sir, I'm Nurse Hawkins." She had strawberry blond hair pulled back into a bun and blue scrubs under a white lab coat. Her kind eyes instantly put Steve at ease. "I heard you needed some help cleaning off."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve nodded, getting unsteadily to her feet.

The nurse looked up at Steve and frowned, stepping forward to brace Steve's arm. She was short but sturdy. "It looks from your clothes like you've lost a lot of blood. If you're feeling lightheaded, please don't push yourself." Steve didn't bother answering. Pursing her lips at Steve's expression, the nurse nodded. "One of those, I see. Well, can I have a name to call you?"

"I'm nobody special," Steve demurred, not interested in getting special treatment for being Captain America. She also didn't want her true sex to leak out to the media before she was ready for it, and right after a battle with unicorns seemed possibly like the worst time ever, especially since her team still didn't know. To be honest, she still didn't want her team to know. The thought of their negative reactions was too much to deal with right now.

"Very well," Nurse Hawkins sighed. "Is there anyone we should call for you?"

Steve shook her head. "They're all busy right now."

Nodding skeptically, the nurse walked them into the small room housing a toilet, shower cubicle, and shower chair. With the way Steve's sense of balance was off, she needed the help. "I don't think we'll be able to salvage any of your clothing, but if you want to try, I can put them in a bag for you," the nurse offered.

"No, just toss them," Steve said, knowing her uniform was too damaged. Luckily Tony had made her extras. "I'll keep the boots, but that's it." Steve hated wearing in new boots, as the itch of constantly healing blisters made her want to scratch and scratch. After sitting Steve down in the chair, the Nurse helped remove Steve's boots and put them in a large plastic bag labelled with the same patient number as her hospital wristband.

"I'm going to turn on the shower to start loosening the crust on some of those bandages," Nurse Hawkins said. "Just sit there and try to relax. Please let me know if you start feeling faint, Sir."

Fetching scissors and a large trash bag, Nurse Hawkins started cutting off Steve's trashed clothing and the bandages. Bucky had used so many rolls of gauze, Steve looked like an Egyptian mummy. Where they hadn't glued themselves to bloody scabs, they'd stuck to the armacorn viscera splattered all over Steve's body. The warm water helped loosen some of it, but it still hurt to pull them off partially healed bites and horn punctures. Steve undid what zippers and buckles she could, but mostly just sat there in silence as the nurse worked.

Exhaustion ate at the edges of her mind.

A little more than halfway through the process, Nurse Hawkins fingers paused for several long seconds before resuming their cutting as if nothing had happened. "Luckily most of this blood doesn't seem to be yours," she said. Pink and brown water swirled down the drain, but at least it wasn't black and red like at the start. Peeling off the last of Steve's pants, Nurse Hawkins tossed them in the trash. "What is your preferred mode of address?" she asked calmly.

"What?" Steve asked thickly, rousing herself from her stupor. She'd been on the verge of zoning on the water swirling down the drain. Clearing her throat, she made herself focus on the nurse.

"Would you prefer Sir or Ma'am? Or something else as an address?" Nurse Hawkins sprayed Steve down one more time and then soaped up a washcloth. "People prefer different pronouns sometimes that don't always match their outward appearance. What would make you feel most comfortable?"

"I don't think anyone's ever asked me that," Steve said slowly. "It isn't safe to have preferences."

Carefully scrubbing the wounds on Steve's legs with the soapy washcloth, Nurse Hawkins looked up and met Steve's eyes. "It's just me and you in here. This is a safe space."

Tears pricked Steve's eyes and she had to look away. Voice hushed beneath the sound of falling water, Steve confessed, "I… I think I might prefer Ma'am sometimes, but... to do my job it has to be Sir."

"Are you sure it still has to be that way? The world is changing every day," Nurse Hawkins said compassionately. The water going down the drain finally looked clear.

Shrugging, Steve scraped away a scab on her thigh, the skin underneath already mostly healed. "Sometimes I like being a Sir. It's not too bad."

"I'm may just be a nurse, but I think you deserve to work in a place where you're respected for whoever you want to be. There are a lot of places nowadays that value strong women and nonbinary people. Now, close your eyes for me." After soaping Steve's head wound and hair, the nurse did a last rinse and then turned off the water, fetching several warm, white towels to dry them both off. She discarded her soaked lab coat into a bin.

Getting Steve into a backless white hospital gown, Nurse Hawkins helped Steve settle into the bed. Just sitting in a chair showering had left Steve on the verge of passing out. It was ridiculous and slightly alarming, if she had the energy to be alarmed. Most of her body was focused on healing and recovering from the battle and that strange mental episode.

After bandaging her wounds, the nurse pulled the blanket over Steve and pressed the call button to talk to the nurse's desk. A harried doctor poked her head in for less than two minutes, made sure Steve wasn't on the verge of death, decided Steve didn't need any stitches after all, and ran out again.

Going to insert an IV for the things the doctor had ordered, Nurse Hawkins said, "I know it's none of my business, but if you can't or don't want to leave your job, there are safe spaces both in the city and online to go and be yourself for a time, places you can talk to other people with similar issues. As a jumping off point, you could try googling Transgender or LGBTQ websites. They often have forums, meetings, and helpline phone numbers. You shouldn't have to struggle with this alone."

Uncomfortable, Steve lifted one shoulder and looked away. "I'm used to being alone. I'll be alright, but thank you. Can I leave now?"

"Hah, not even close." Picking up Steve's chart, Nurse Hawkins began writing. "You got really lucky out there today, so don't push it and make yourself worse. You have a lot of wounds, but somehow they don't actually look that bad considering all of the blood on those bandages we cut off. If you're careful, you'll heal well. We're downgrade your urgency level and having you moved to another room on the normal floors. You probably won't see another doctor for several more hours, but the nurses will be around if anything happens."

"That's fine. I'm sure there are people who need a doctor's attention more than me," Steve said. She'd never much liked doctors or hospitals, past or present. As the nurse kept scribbling on the chart, Steve asked, "Could you possibly... not write female down on my paperwork?"

Giving her a sympathetic look, the nurse shook her head. "For the doctors to treat you effectively, we can't lie. We can use a fake name if you're worried about your work finding out, but it will make it harder for any concerned friends or family to find you."

Steve had been trying to keep the Avengers from finding out her gender, but the even worse thought of men like General Ross, who'd have no compunction about starting up a new breeding program, or organizations like Hydra and AIM getting ahold of her in her weakened state and experimenting on her made Steve's stomach turn over queasily. "I'd prefer a fake name. Maybe Peggy?—no, how about just Jane Smith, that's simple enough."

"Yes, Ma'am, Jane Smith it is," Nurse Hawkins said smartly, writing it down. "Good luck with everything. I don't know if I'll have the chance to see you again, but I have a feeling you're going to be alright." Giving Steve a nod and farewell smile, she turned and left.

Several minutes later, an orderly came in and transferred "Jane Smith" down crowded halls to a new room the size of a cereal box. Two other patient beds had already been crammed inside when they slotted Steve against the wall like fitting one last cigarette into the box. A second orderly followed, dropping off food trays to each bed table before leaving.

The young polynesian-looking woman on the far end of the row of beds tugged up her blanket higher and shivered, ignoring the food. On the bed in the middle, a skinny black woman grabbed the saltine crackers and shoved the rest of the tray over onto Steve's table. "I'm Kara and on a diet and refuse to be tempted by sugar and fat, injured or not. Besides, you look like a bodybuilder or something. You probably need the food more than I do."

"Thanks." Steve suddenly felt ravenous. All that healing took a lot of calories. "I'm St—Jane. I'm Jane."

"No problem, Jane," Kara said. Biting her lip, she snatched back the red jello cup off the tray she'd given Steve and then turned resolutely away from the food to face the TV where the news was playing. "Eat the rest of that before I take more," she ordered, shoving a spoonful of gelatin into her mouth and humming quietly in pleasure.

Reporters filled a small box in the corner of the screen while the rest of the screen was taken up by slightly grainy video of the Avengers in downtown Philadelphia. On screen, Iron Man swooshed by, a civilian under each arm as he flew towards safety. The camera shifted down to focus on Hawkeye. He looked exasperated to be fighting hand-to-hand as he jumped over a charging armacorn's head and landed on its back, shoving a large knife into its spinal column before leaping away again with a circus-trained flourish. Hawkeye must be out of both arrows and bullets, if he'd turned to knives.

Before Steve could get too concerned, Widow came skidding around the corner and tossed Hawkeye a pair of guns, drawing two more from holsters on her thighs. A menacing-looking Pegasus appeared over their heads, but jerked a second later and dropped dead to the ground. The camera shifted to the Winter Soldier on the roof of a car nearby, rifle raised.

Steve's heart jerked. It felt like she was bleeding out again, she missed Bucky so badly. Seeing him on TV wasn't enough. She needed to smell him, touch him, hear his voice, and taste his skin. She needed to be with Bucky. All her senses suddenly felt shaky. The once-soft sheets rasped her skin like sandpaper and the sweetness of the jello turned cloying.

On the TV, the Winter Soldier hopped off the car and joined Hawkeye and Black Widow. The three turned as one and trotted off after the green form of the Hulk in the distance. Iron Man zoomed back into frame to cover them from the sky. Steve felt a strange jealousy. Maybe the team didn't need Captain America after all.

The image shifted to show trucks full of national guardsmen disgorging at police barricades to help the Avengers mop up the situation.

Losing interest, Steve suddenly remembered what Hawkeye had said during the her strange episode. The voice sounded in her memory as if heard from underwater, but she could just make out the words, "Steve's gone Feral."

Feral.

Steve didn't want to believe it, but could there really be any other explanation for what had happened? She had gone Feral and lost control. If Natasha hadn't come, that boy could have bled to death without medical attention. Not only that, but she'd attacked Tony and almost attacked Natasha. Deep down, the truth resonated in her soul.

It felt like the end of the world. No one was going to trust Steve in a fight ever again. She was off the Avengers. Her life was effectively over.

What was she going to do now?

Whimpering cut through Steve's dark spiral of misery and self-loathing. The polynesian girl in the corner began sobbing, knocking over her tray as she curled up in a ball. Concerned, Steve felt a mental tug and realized that the girl must be a Guide in distress. The girl's breathing turned harsh and labored. Steve had to help her. Nothing else was more important, especially not Steve's drama. She put it away in a box and closed the lid to focus on the girl in need.

Mind forming a strategy, Steve threw her blankets off and crawled over Kara's skinny legs to the Guide's bed. Bracing herself on all fours around the woman's tightly curled body, Steve put her forearms on either side of the Guide's head and imagined herself as a shield, trying to physically block out the unwanted emotions bombarding the girl's mind. "I'm sorry. Hold on and try to push the emotions away."

"It hurts," the girl breathed. "Please... help me, Sentinel." Tears streamed from her clenched eyes. A Guide without shields could go catatonic.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how," Steve said helplessly.

The Guide twisted. Her forehead landed against Steve's bare arm. At the touch, the girl hiccuped and pressed her face closer, reaching up to tightly wind her fingers around Steve's wrists.

Gulping in a breath, Steve put on a face almost never used, that of Stevie-the-Sentinel. "I've got you," Steve promised, picturing a mental shield around the girl's head to block out unwanted emotions. "I'm here." The girl's breathing gradually slowed.

The dinging of the call button from the middle bed finally stopped as someone answered at the nurses station. "We have an emergency in here!" Kara snapped. "There's a Guide in distress. Get one of the Gifted in here ASAP!"

"Seriously?" the overworked nurse exclaimed before sucking in a quick breath. "No, sorry, I'll find someone somewhere in this madhouse and send them right over. Just try to keep the Guide calm." The line clicked off.

Kara scoffed, her cloud of dark brown curls bouncing at the irate toss of her head. "Keep her calm, what excellent advice. I'm sure we never would've thought of that one on our own." Glancing at Steve, her full lips pursed, "Though you seem to be managing it okay."

The girl reached up and gripped the collar of Steve's hospital gown, keeping her eyes clenched as she whispered, "My shields… are… gone. Hurts."

"We know, help's coming. Just hang on, girl," Kara ordered. Steve shifted to try and loosen the strangling pressure of her hospital gown around her neck. Kara shook her head and sighed.

Levering herself out of bed with a wince, Kara limped over to a huge purse leaning against the wall and pulled out a red cascade of fabric that proved to be a wraparound dress. Slowly she limped back to the bed and sat down with a relieved grimace. "Here, put this on, St—Jane, calmer of Guides," she said with pointed emphasis. "Your pale naked butt is hanging out of that stupid hospital gown and pointing straight at the door. No woman should have to make a first impression like that. It's undignified, no matter how muscular and round that behind may be."

Steve felt her face go bright red with mortification. She tried tugging the hospital gown back up and over her rear, but the it was trapped under the Guide's body and wouldn't come loose easily. "I don't think your clothing will fit me," Steve mumbled.

"That's why you're lucky this dress belongs to my sister, an amazon of a woman who never diets. It should cover the important bits," Kara said, tossing the open dress over Steve's back so it billowed down around her sides. "This red isn't her color, but it flatters your pasty white hospital skintone surprisingly well. You can keep it if you want."

"Thanks," Steve said dryly, shrugging on the dress one arm at a time so she didn't lose contact with the distressed Guide on the bed.

Steve had covered up just in time, as a brisk knock sounded on the door and two men rushed inside. The nurse wore scrubs, but all Steve could see was the other man. He had a sticker on his chest with Visitor - Guide Robert Mitchum. Guide Mitchum thinned his shields and released a soothing cloud of power, barely sparing Kara a glance as he rushed forward to help Steve and the young Guide.

As a Sentinel, Steve felt the sweet rush of the Guide's power bring her headache down several notches. She wanted to blame the rush of attraction on that, but Guide Mitchum was also drop-dead gorgeous, with a dimple in his chin that rivalled Bucky's. Steve had a weakness for dimpled chins. Instinctively, she could feel that he was unbonded. Guide Mitchum felt solid and trustworthy, with lines on his face that hinted at laughter. Steve was desperately grateful that Kara had covered up Steve's behind before he'd entered.

"Which of you is the one in distress?" Guide Mitchum asked, focusing his piercing gaze on Steve crouched on the bed. "I thought it was a Guide and not a Sentinel?" He sounded both concerned and intrigued.

Shifting back to reveal the girl she'd been sheltering, Steve shook off her attraction and recalled herself to duty. "It is a Guide. She's the one in trouble."

As Guide Mitchum moved forward, Steve slid back out of reach, climbing over Kara to reach her own bed. Guide Mitchum looked torn, as if he wanted to reach out after Steve, but then the girl whimpered in distress. Instantly Guide Mitchum focused on soothing the young Guide and bolstering her shields. "I'm Guide Mitchum. I'm here to help you," he said. Cradling the girl's face in his fingers, he began murmuring softly, coaxing her to calm down and start rebuilding her mental shields.

The male nurse cleared his throat, drawing Steve and Kara's attention. "We're going to move you ladies out to give the Guide mental space to recover. We might have to put you in the hall temporarily, but we'll find you new rooms as soon as possible." Placing Steve's boots and Kara's purse on the ends of their beds, he unlocked Kara's bed first and wheeled her out.

"Good luck, Kara, and thanks!" Steve called after her. Kara gave him a thumbs up before rolling out of sight.

On the TV, the Winter Soldier appeared in a closeup. The reporters speculated on the mysterious new Avenger. Steve felt a surge of longing. Her equilibrium wobbled like the jello she'd just consumed. The Guide energy lapping against her mind made her feel restless and hollow. Steve needed to get out of here and find Bucky.

Steve wanted Bucky.

"Alright, Ma'am. Here we go," a young orderly said as he burst into the room, not even looking at Steve's face as he unlocked the wheels on her bed, grabbed her IV pole, and pushed her out into the crowded hallway. Kara and the other nurse were nowhere in sight. "Sorry, I'm going to have to park your bed over in a relatively quiet corner. They're starting to ship people to other hospitals with more open beds, so you shouldn't be stuck out here for too long. Try to sleep if you can." With that, the orderly parked Steve's bed, locked the wheels, and hurried away.

Steve knuckled her eyes, feeling swamped once more with heartache. The artificial lights overhead stabbed into her eyes and the electrical buzzing stung her ears like swarms of bees. She didn't want to be abandoned here, unwanted and alone. Everything about this place made it hard to breath, as if she was a child with pneumonia all over again. Steve hated hospitals. It wasn't like they could really help her get better. She had the serum for that.

In fact, there was no reason for her to stay here at all.

Sitting up, she dropped her legs over the side of the bed and looked around. Her corner of the hallway was relatively quiet, the staff busy in rooms and the other patients sleeping or distracted by their own misery. No one was paying her any attention.

The IV bag looked deflated, so Steve turned off the power on the IV box so it wouldn't beep and removed the needle from her vein, pressing a fold of her blanket against her arm until the bleeding stopped and the serum closed the hole. Next she ripped off the ID bracelet around her wrist. Tugging her chart free of the clipboard on the bed, Steve folded it in half and tossed it the nearest garbage can along with her ID bracelet. There was no need for the hospital to keep them if she was leaving.

Steve's combat boots were still filthy, but at least she knew she could run in them if necessary. Tugging them on over the hospital socks, she laced them up with shaking fingers. She had to get out of here. Find Bucky if she could, and if she couldn't, lay low for a while and just focus on figuring herself out.

Standing up, Steve tied the red dress closed over her white hospital gown. It didn't actually look that bad. Considering Steve hadn't worn a dress since she'd hit puberty, she expected it to feel stranger than it did. Or perhaps everything just felt so strange that the dress was a blip on top of the collapse of her identity.

For a full minute, she stood staring at herself in the reflection of a window, a tall blonde woman in a red dress and combat boots. Exhaustion crashed down on her and the world wavered. Without a Guide to protect, without a focus, Steve's thoughts turned fuzzy.

Get out, find Bucky, she reminded herself, chanting it over and over even as all other thoughts fell over the edge of a waterfall into oblivion.

Turning, she walked slowly but steadily out of the hospital. In the chaos of all the injured people and frantic visitors coming and going, and the rows of ambulances coming to drop off and take away patients to other hospitals, no one tried to stop her. She walked for a very long time.

Injured, disoriented, hungry, and tired, the Sentinel couldn't find her Guide's scent anywhere. She couldn't protect anyone, much less herself like this. The edges of her vision went foggy and her mind to syrup. She needed to stop.

Down the street, a dirty man took a half-eaten sandwich from a trash can, unwrapped it, and scarfed it down in three bites. The Sentinel watched hungrily. Tilting her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes and flared her nostrils. She could smell food in another trashcan across the street.

Crossing over, she found a partially eaten muffin in a paper bag and an empty styrofoam cup with a single sip of juice left. Stuffing the muffin in her mouth before someone could take it, she carried the cup for two more blocks, but couldn't find any clean water to drink, only water with too many chemicals that would make her sick.

Unable to go farther, she stumbled down onto a flattened piece of cardboard in the shade of a building. Dropping her cup, she curled up with her head buried in her arms to block out as much as the sensory noise as possible. Between one breath and the next, she was swept away over the waterfall into the oblivion of sleep.