Steve V: Rogers v. Wilson
It wasn't that bad. Steve knew himself well enough to be able to tell when a bug took root versus when a bug really took root, and this was definitely the former. A two-week tune up at Gravesen should be plenty to get him back to health—well, as close to it as he ever got these days. Still, as always, he was reluctant to leave his friends for that long to be stuck in the hospital, especially when he knew all his friends from last time had moved on. The place would feel so different without any of them, he knew, but Steve didn't expect just how different.
Most of the rooms were occupied by people he'd never met. It was rare that the Gravesen pediatric residential ward saw this many new patients at once. Carol had lived here alone for ages, and it only got crowded after she died and remained so for only two and a half months. Steve wasn't used to feeling outnumbered. Hopefully, at least one of these new kids had arrived before the last original patient left so they could be shown the ropes. The first thing Steve did after being admitted and getting his port accessed was check the gauntlet.
He croaked when he saw what had become of it.
Nobody vandalized it; it was exactly where it had always been, but next to it hung something Steve never imagined he'd see in a hospital, especially in an area reserved for children. It looked much like the gauntlet in that it had rows and columns, one of which had been filled with names, but that's where the similarities ended. The second column contained tally marks for votes corresponding to each person. All that seemed innocent enough, but it was the title above the chart that turned Steve's stomach.
Gravesen's Dead Pool.
Steve scanned the names, wondering which kid had created this abomination and dared to place it next to the revered gauntlet. Adam, Monica, Shang-Chi, Marc, America, Kamala, Miles, and Wade. This new world order would not stand as long as Steve still called himself a denizen here. Quickly, he snapped a photo just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating this. Unwilling to even look at it any longer, Steve stormed back to his room and decided to vent to someone to cool off before he ripped the head off some kid.
"Tony, we have a situation," he said when the other boy picked up.
"Are you okay?"
"Health-wise, yes. I'm at Gravesen for a little tune-up, but I'm fine. This is another kind of situation entirely." Instead of attempting to explain it, Steve simply sent Tony the picture of the new poster he'd taken.
"Jesus Christ."
"I know. I don't know which of the little shits is responsible, but if I find out they might have to institute another lockdown."
"Whoa there. Take a breath. Please don't go beating up any sick little kids. I'm sure there's an explanation for this."
"Sure, whatever. No explanation could ever justify such sacrilege."
"Relax, Steve. I'm sure whoever did it didn't intend for it to be a personal affront against you."
"They put it next to the gauntlet," Steve added. "Carol and I made that gauntlet as a reminder—"
"Yes, yes, I've heard the grand mission statement of the gauntlet. I doubt they put it there to purposefully detract from it. Are any of their names up there too?"
"I didn't look. I was too distracted."
"Go look. Maybe they're not stomping all over your tradition, they just added their own."
"Betting on who's going to die first is not a tradition."
"That's…not entirely true, but you are right that it's inappropriate for a hospital. Go look at the gauntlet, Steve."
He did as he was told, trekking back to the common room to look over the gauntlet. Steve scanned the familiar names before he reached Wanda and Pietra, the last people he knew to be admitted. Beneath them were a few names from the Dead Pool chart: Monica and Miles, but the rest hadn't been added. "Only two out of the eight newbies are on the gauntlet."
"That's good news. It means at least there's someone there willing to participate in the old traditions."
"It's barely a year-old tradition," Steve reminded him. "That's hardly old."
"Yeah, whatever. Have you met any of these kids yet to ask them about the dead pool?"
"No. The common room is empty, but a lot of the rooms are occupied. I know they're still here.
"I think you need to calmly ask them who put it up and why."
"Why the emphasis on calmly?"
"Because you're clearly on the warpath about this."
"Rightfully so," Steve insisted.
"Yes, rightfully so. But you'll only make it worse if you attack them for it. They'll probably all switch their votes to you and then murder you in your sleep."
"I don't think they'd go that far."
"You never know. But seriously, Steve, go find some of these kids and get answers."
"Okay."
"Let me know how it goes."
"I will. Thanks. Bye, Tony."
"Bye."
Steve didn't have to go searching for the new residents; one of them found him. A boy and a girl walked into the common room, both several years younger than Steve. The boy looked tired, with a yellow tinge to his eyes, and the girl was almost as skinny as Steve with a PICC line in her right arm. Their eyes widened when they saw him and they froze in their tracks, starstruck.
"You're Steve," the boy said plainly.
"I am. How did you know that?"
"Parker told us all about you," the girl claimed.
"You guys know Parker?"
"Yeah. He was here when we got here."
"And he showed you the gauntlet?"
They both nodded. Steve internally thanked Parker for upholding this tradition. Then, he dared to ask the pressing question, "Who did that?" He pointed to the dead pool.
The two kids exchanged a knowing glance. The boy turned to Steve and said, "That was Wade."
"He still here?"
The boy nodded. Steve restrained himself from charging off down the hall to bust down doors until he found this Wade. "He's in the chemo clinic right now," the girl informed him.
"Okay." Steve knew better than to interrogate him in the middle of an infusion.
"Do we get the 'ol Rogers Razzle Dazzle?" the boy asked all of a sudden.
Steve's brain did a flip. "Where'd you hear about that?"
"Parker," he answered.
"You've been here a while, then. I doubt you need a tour at this point."
"But it's the principle of the thing," the girl insisted. Steve doubted he could muster his usual enthusiasm for showing the new kids around when he knew one of them, this Wade character, had created something so contrary to everything he stood for. But, he also couldn't deny them this when they so clearly wanted it. Steve needed to uphold his reputation, to be there for them as he'd promised Carol he would be for all of the children to set foot here.
"Alright," he acquiesced. "But, how about we wait until everyone's available so I don't have to do it more than once?" He needed to conserve energy where he could.
"Okay."
Before the two kids could turn around and head back wherever they came from, Steve stopped them. "You two already knew me, but I'm afraid I can't say the same about you."
"I'm Miles," the boy said.
"Monica," the girl followed.
"Nice to meet you."
"You too! Parker told us so much about you, and we saw your name in the group chat, but I'm so happy to finally meet you for real," Miles said eagerly. Though Steve never left the conversation, he silenced the Gravesen group chat when he wasn't in the hospital. It helped him focus on his life outside of chronic illness.
"Well, I hope I don't disappoint," he said. This was the largest number of new patients he'd ever encountered at once, if the names on the dead pool were anything to go by. There was no way he'd be able to get to know them all in only two weeks as well as he would if there were only one or two of them. He bid goodbye to Miles and Monica and returned to his room for breathing treatment number three of the day. While the vest ran, he texted Bucky to summarize the situation, beginning with the picture of the dead pool.
"Wow. That's terrifying," came his reply.
"I know, right? What kind of psycho put that up in a hospital?"
"Have you seen the kid who did it?"
"Not yet. But I know his name is Wade. Two of the other kids told me so."
"How many are there?"
"Eight. Nine if you count me."
"That's way more than usual."
"Yeah. Our group of ten was an anomaly."
"I remember when it was just me, Carol, and Parker."
"Me too. I'm giving the whole pack a tour later because Miles and Monica asked me to."
"Who?"
"Two of the new kids. They said they got here before Parker left, so they know him."
"Okay. What are you going to do about the dead pool kid?"
"I don't know. As of now my intended course of action is to pick a fight, but I ought to change that before I come face to face with him."
"Yes. Please do not throw hands with some sick kid."
"I won't. I just really want to right now. It's right next to the gauntlet and just looking at it makes me feel sick."
"Why don't you tell him that and ask him politely to take it down?"
"I could try. But I doubt it'll work."
"You don't even know the kid yet. Give him a chance."
"Okay."
About half an hour after he finished his vest, there came a light knock on his door. Steve opened it to find an entire ward's worth of children waiting for him, Miles at the front. Monica, on the other hand, kept her distance. It was certainly a more diverse group than he'd ever seen. One thing was clear, though; Steve was definitely the oldest among them. None a single one could have been older than twelve or thirteen, which was odd. The last time the ward had been this busy, there'd at least been a balance of different ages.
"Hi," Steve said, feeling sheepish under the scrutiny of so many pairs of eyes. He met Miles's gaze, and he saw there the same unbridled trust that he'd seen in people like Parker and Tony when he'd first shown them around. Just like that, his confidence returned. "How many of you know who I am?" he asked cautiously. Every single hand shot up. That was unexpected.
"You're basically famous," one of the little girls piped up.
"The Gravesen equivalent of a war hero," another added.
Steve's ears turned red. However, he accepted the role and set about initiating this next generation of Gravesen residents. "Well, I'm sure you all can find your way around without any trouble, but I've gotten some requests for a tour anyways. Have any of you seen the anomalous kitchen?" he asked. Most of the kids shook their heads. Steve took off on his usual route for tours, spending less time in the locations they already knew like the common room and the classroom. He did, however, take the time to explain certain traditions including their rules for Catan, initiation in the chemo clinic, and of course the gauntlet.
"Those of you who aren't on the gauntlet, do you know what it is?" Steve asked. He stood before the poster like a museum tour guide showing off a precious artifact.
"It's to keep track of the dead people and the almost-dead people," a voice from the back of the group said. Steve knew without having to ask that this must be Wade. He zeroed in on the source of the comment, a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy with a head as bald as Bucky's had been.
"No," Steve countered, trying not to let any anger seep into his voice. The youngest among the group was maybe four or five and he didn't want to scare her. "The gauntlet serves as a reminder of everything in our lives we still control. As you can see if you look at my name, I still have my mind and soul."
"What if you've lost your mind and have no soul, but you're not dead," Wade argued.
"I sincerely hope that applies to none of you."
"You never know."
Steve suppressed a growl. "I presume you're the one who decided this was a better idea than the gauntlet?" he asked, gesturing to the neighboring dead pool poster.
"Duh."
"Tell me, how does this help anybody?"
Wade shrugged. "It's just for shits, cyster."
"What did you just call me?"
"Cyster with a CY."
Steve decidedly did not approve of his choice of language. "Cysters" and "fibros" were terms sometimes used by the CF community, usually the younger cohorts, to describe fellow fighters, but coming from a non-CFer it felt almost derogatory. Some of the other kids shuffled their feet nervously. Steve decided to give this kid what for later, when he didn't have such a large audience. Instead, he changed the subject. "Does anybody want to add their name?" Everyone except Monica and Miles, whose names were already up, and Wade, nodded. Steve gave a brief explanation of the six aspects and let the kids place theirs one by one. It also gave him an opportunity to learn their names, but there were so many that he doubted he'd remember all of them without more practice.
Once everyone was up, Steve thanked them for their time and sent them away so he could corner Wade. Though the kid was younger, Steve could tell he was perfectly capable of holding his own, so he didn't hold back when he scolded him. "This gauntlet is a sacred tradition here," he began. "And I don't approve of you subverting it by adding your own inappropriate chart."
"Take it easy. It's not like we're actually gambling. On a real dead pool, there'd be bets at stake."
"I don't care that you're within the law. I care that you have the audacity to even suggest something like that. This is a hospital, not a horse race, and it's not funny. I don't know if you've spent time in another hospital where that's usual—though I seriously doubt this is acceptable anywhere—but here at Gravesen we don't guess who's going to die next, we just hope and pray that it's none of us. Because when it does happen—and it does, more often than you ever want it to—it's the worst thing that's ever happened to you."
Wade glared at him for a few seconds before backing down. "Fine. I'll take it down if it gets you off my ass. If it makes you feel any better, I had the most votes by far."
"No, that doesn't make me feel better. Cancer sucks. I've known a lot of people who had it, some of whom didn't survive. I would never wish for more fatalities."
"Any of them have leukemia?" Wade asked. His snarky attitude had toned way down, replaced by something resembling humility.
"Yeah. My friend Natasha. That's her, right there," Steve said, pointing out her name on the gauntlet. She was still in maintenance chemo, so her time and reality Xs remained with Thanatos. She'd promised to send word when she finished so they could transfer the remaining ones back to her. Wade gazed at Natasha's row of the chart with all the intention of a lost traveler scrutinizing a map.
He turned back to Steve. "I'm sorry I upset you with the whole dead pool thing. Making a game out of it made the possibility feel less real."
"I understand the need to find ways to do that. I've been terminal basically since I was born, but things are coming to a head now and it feels so much more real," Steve admitted. "But there are better ways to deal with it than trying to turn it into a game."
"I know. I just…I want to die a natural death at the age of one hundred and two—like the city of Detroit."
Steve decided not to question him about that comparison and asked, "Have you been to Dr. Wilson's yet?"
"No."
"Ask if you can go. He's super helpful with this sort of thing."
"Okay. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Steve commended himself for handling the situation without starting a fight. When Nurse Peggy was replacing his emptied IV bags that night, she asked him, "Did you have anything to do with the removal of that awful poster from the common room?"
"Yeah. Why didn't you guys just take it down?"
"The little bastard made a new one every time we tried," she said with an exasperated shake of her head.
Steve chuckled. "I'm pretty sure I convinced him to leave it be."
"Good for you. I've said it once and I'll say it again, they're lucky to have you."
"I know. I'm going to try to be here for them as long as possible."
"What are you talking about? You're just here for a tune-up."
"I don't mean in the hospital," he clarified. "I just mean, you know…alive."
"Oh, Steve," she sighed. "You handle the cards you were dealt with more grace than anyone I've ever met."
Steve's ears reddened. "I'm sure that's not true."
"No, it is. Promise me you'll fight until the last. That you won't give up."
"Giving up is definitely not on my to-do list."
She smiled. "Good. These kids look up to you."
"I know," he said, remembering little Scott saluting him mere days before he died. If the only thing Steve accomplished was inspiring his fellow warriors to keep fighting, then his truncated life would not have been a waste.
I was actually going to include the Deadpool cameo in the original Gravesen, but I just could not figure out a way to fit it in the storyline. I think that was a good thing because it serves a much better purpose in advancing Steve's character here than it would have if I had him show up while everyone was still around. Also, be honest: how many of you saw the chapter title and thought Wilson meant Dr. Sam Wilson?