The sleeping figure scared her.

Whether it was real, true sleep, or the drugged kind, she would never be sure, but she knew it scared her. A lot.

All hooked up to wires and beeping machines, it didn't look quite right. Wrinkled forehead, squeezed shut eyes, and clenched fists were not what usually painted the picture of sleep in her mind. No sound escaped the room except for the beeping noises and whirring of computers that kept it alive. Breaths came in hurried, sharp edges, taunting her with worries that they might not return. In the sunlight, she saw bandages. Everywhere, bandages.

The door burst open and her quiet observations stopped. She looked around and met a surprising sight: Amelie.

She walked awkwardly over to her sister and sat down, staring sadly at the body of Steve laying on the hospital bed. She said nothing, so Juliette didn't either. She continued to glance first at the drawings in her hands; drawings done by hands calloused from years of using charcoal like it was going out of style, hands hardened by years of learning about people. She looked at those hands. Still splattered with red and cuts from getting hit by rocks.

Then her sister surprised her by speaking: "Those are really good drawings. Did he draw them?"

Juliette looked up at her and was even more surprised at a closer study: she wore no makeup and her hair wasn't styled. "Yeah. He drew them. A while ago, actually."

Amelie nodded. "They're beautiful. They're of you, aren't they?"

"I—I guess so," Juliette looked down at the scraps of paper and realized she was right. What she had taken to be someone from inside his head was now certainly her: that little birthmark on her shoulder was there, natural golden highlights…but she looked, somehow…prettier.

"He must've really loved you, huh?" Amelie still watched Juliette as she flipped through the pictures.

As Juliette watched his chest rise irregularly, she felt little tears form in her eyes, but she blinked them back and nodded quickly.

Amelie stood. "I just came to say that I'm sorry."

Juliette looked up. "Sorry about what?"

"Everything. You know…back when you lived at home," Amelie said. "And…I'm sorry about him. I hope he's okay." And she left, as though she didn't know how much she had changed her sister's life in that moment.

Their schedules became entangled with the injured man; Tony's schedule, for instance.

"Hey, does anybody else have visiting Captain Acid-Face on their schedules?" Tony asked loudly, causing Juliette to roll her eyes.

"Captain Acid-Face?" Clint asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Tony said. "His face is covered in acid? Duh."

"Yes, everybody has visit-time on their schedules." Natasha smoothly forced the subject back on track.

"I'm at ten to—two?!" Clint piped.

"I got eleven to three," Bruce said.

"Twelve to four," commented Tony. "So does Pepper, of course."

"I got the same as Clint," said Juliette.

"Me, too," Natasha said.

"I share times with Dr. Banner," Thor thundered.

"Thor, please call me Bruce," muttered the doctor.

Clint glanced at the clock and shouted, "Got to go! See you at two!" Natasha, Clint, and Juliette made their way to the east wing.

Tony stared after them. "Okeydokey. So what are the cool kids gonna do today?"

Bruce face palmed.

They were met with the same sight as last time.

A few beeping machines.

A few empty chairs.

And that same figure, sleeping unnaturally in the hospital bed.

Clint sat for a few minutes, then stood up, sighing. "I think Nat and I are going to go get some food. You can stay here, if you want to."

Juliette took this as Clint's way of excusing himself from the saddened girl's presence, a way so that she could just be alone. "Thanks, Clint." The two left shamelessly.

So that was how she sat. Barely daring to hold his hand, barely daring to sit anywhere close to the lines that kept him alive, she sat and thought about how she could've fixed something. She had been in control at the time, but there was nothing she could've done. Right? Although it was true that she could've told the captain to keep a sharper focus on the giant back leg, but that wasn't anybody's fault, at least not anybody on the team.

Deep in these thoughts, struggling to stay afloat from all these doubts, she heard a noise somewhere in the background. She looked up again and what she saw was so completely elating that she jumped up, gasping.

He was moving.

Not much movement, but enough.

Just enough for her to call down the hall, "NURSE!"

The scrawny little old nurse ran down the hall and said breathlessly, "Yes?" She looked at the man and gasped. His eyes fluttered open. He looked groggily to the side. "Jules?" he said thickly.

"St-Steve!" She jumped up and almost smashed him with a hug. She then sat up and glared at him for a few seconds until he said, "Wait! Wait, don't—!"

She punched him in the shoulder, then collapsed into it. "Don't. Ever. Do that again."