Chapter 17 - Getting Better
"Explain what?" Clint leans against the wall.
"Well that would mean that she was married," Bruce answers, "and if she was married, then it would be reasonable to assume she had kids. How old was this Jamie?"
"Well," Steve bites his lip in thought and tries to sit up straighter. Natasha moves one of the extra pillows behind him so he can lean against it. "Thanks, Nat. She looked to be in her early twenties, but looks can be deceiving."
"Says the ninety seven year old," Clint smirks.
"Technically I'm only thirty one, seeing as I was frozen for almost seventy years."
"Well I sleep about ten hours a day does that make me sixteen?" Clint says as he sits down on the arm of Natasha's chair.
"Mentally," Steve says, "yes," he cocks his head to the side and grins, "and how are you able to get ten hours of sleep?"
"Hey!" Clint ignores the question and shoves him in the shoulder, then remembering that he is hurt, apologizes, "sorry."
"No no, it hurt. Do it again."
"Uh, no. Why would I do that?"
"Because I could feel it! Do it one more time then I'm going to see if I can move."
Clint gently shoves Steve's shoulder again and he flinches but then rolls his shoulder. It takes him a minute but he is able to raise his arm. After doing it several times, it comes easily.
"Now for the right one," Steve tries that side and he can still barely lift it, "I guess not," he frowns, "and I still can't move my fingers. The doctor said that I should be able to move again somewhat but may not fully regain my past ability."
"Steve," Bruce says, Steve raises his eyebrows in response, "would you like someone to stay with you tonight? It's not a problem."
"I'll be alright, Bruce. Thanks for offering though. Nurses will be in and out and you probably wouldn't get any sleep," he shrugs, "I can manage on my own."
"I know you can, but you don't have to," Steve sucks in air as he recalls Bucky telling him the same thing after his mother died. "If you change you mind," Bruce pulls his phone from his pocket and waves it, "call me. Do you need my number?"
"If you want, you can write it on the pad of paper there, but really, I'll be fine."
Bruce scribbles his number down on the note pad. "Visiting hours are almost over so I'm afraid we have to go, and we told Bucky that we'd say bye to him. Anything you want us to tell him?"
Steve tries rubbing his head with his left hand and ends up hitting himself on the forehead before actually reaching his hair. He grunts before saying, "Tell him that I'm fine. I should be better soon and that I'm not dying. Also that I'm glad I won't have to hear him snore anymore," he grins, "just the basics, you know."
"Well, we will see you tomorrow," Natasha stands and heads to the door, "get rested."
"I will. And thank you guys for stopping by." He waves clumsily as they head out the door and down the hall.
When they walk into his room, Bucky is standing by the window looking out onto the busy street.
"Good to see you're feeling well," Bruce stands beside Bucky and looks to the sky.
"Oh, hey," Bucky says, slightly startled, "yeah I'm fine. Steve...?"
"Is fine," Natasha answers the unfinished question, "he can move his head, chest, and left arm. He is paralyzed from the waist down, but," she quickly adds, "the doctors, and Steve, say that he'll recover."
"That's a relief," Bucky sighs, "it's not everyday that someone tries to kill your friend."
"I think it's becoming a trend, I'm sure that I'm next!" Clint sighs over dramatically.
"So do you th..." Bucky is interrupted by Tracy walking in.
"Hello," she says with a smile, "visiting hours are over," she turns to Bucky, "Do you need anything, sir?"
"I'm good, thanks. Oh guys," Bucky turns to his friends, "what room is Steve in?"
"403," Clint says and Bucky nods, "bye Bucky!"
"Bye," Bruce, Natasha, and Bucky repeat as they exit the room with the nurse.