The process of delivering a baby is nothing like Steve expected it to be, it's nothing like the movies show it. There's no promises of never touching her again, no screams of desperation for take this fucking baby out of me! No. there's none of that. There are screams, yes, but they are wordless cries of exertion and pain. A birth is messy too; they show that in TV, but not to its fullest and truest extent: blood, sweat, tears and amniotic fluids everywhere. On him, on the doctor, on Natasha, on Bruce and of course all over the floor. He almost panics at the sight of the blood, but they tell him it's normal so he tries to remain calm.

He can do this. For James. For Natasha.

He stays by her side, wiping sweat from her forehead and tucking her damp hair behind her ears. Her eyes are scrunched shut, her breathing is ragged and her entire face is red. The doctor tells her to push again when she feels the need, and she does almost immediately. Her hand tightens around his and he hears something crack. Everybody turns to him, but he just waves them away and offers Natasha his other hand. The broken finger will be healed in a couple of hours at most, and he just lets Bruce enough time to reset it before he's ordering him, as his captain, to return where he's needed the most.

"He's crowning, Natasha! Another push and his head is out!" Bruce's voice is drowned by Natasha's scream. "That's it! Good, good! One last push, Nat, one big push for his shoulders and you'll be able to hold him!"

"C'mon, Nat, you can do this. One last push. Just one more, doll." To his surprise she laughs breathlessly and turns her head towards him, a tired but elated smile stretching her lips upwards.

"I love it when you call me that." Before he can reply, she whimpers before screaming again.

He hears Bruce grunt and a second later a high-pitched cry fills the air. Bruce lays the baby over his mother's chest, still covered in blood and amniotic fluids. He's purplish and pruney and has a sticky white thing all over him; but the first thing that Steve thinks is that James is perfect. He doesn't notice that he's crying until Natasha looks up and wipes the tears from his face. He steps closer and circles an arm around her shoulders. Together, they gaze down at their little James until Bruce take him for weighting, measuring and cleaning. But as soon as her arms are free, Natasha sags to the bed, as if she can't support her weight.

"Nat?" she looks up at him and tries to smile, but it falls. At first he thinks she's just exhausted, but when he looks down, he sees a thin but steady trickle of blood falling from the edge of the bed. She's still bleeding. "Bruce! Bruce, why is she bleeding?" the man returns with a clean James dressed in one of the bodysuits Peter gifted him and promptly swears, hastily passing the baby to Steve.

"That shouldn't be happening! Dave! Dave, what he hell are you doing?! Why haven't you stitched her up yet?!" Bruce sounds enraged and for a second Steve sees his skin turn a light green but he seems to control it as he presses a towel between Natasha's legs. "Dave, for fucks sake, get back here or I swear to God–!" Natasha moans and Steve immediately tunes everything else off. He steps back to her side, cradling baby James carefully to his chest and using his free hand to caress her cheek. She turns to him, but her eyes are unfocused. "ECHO, get the nurses in here!"

"Nat?" his voice trembles and she tries to smiles, but it falls flat once again. And suddenly, the doors burst open and two nurses enter. Bruce immediately starts shouting orders and he's pushed aside so they can do their job. A third nurse appears from nowhere and tries to herd him away. "No, no! I'm not leaving her!" Bruce comes, his hands hidden in the folds of a towel. He knows it's to cover the blood that soaks them.

"Steve, please, there's nothing you can do here. You have to concentrate, take care of your kid. Do you remember if Natasha wants to breastfeed?" his mind is reeling, but he tries to concentrate.

"I don't–" his vision flashes and then he remembers, soft lights, the two of them seated on the couch and there's a laptop in his lap. A webpage with the pros and cons of breastfeeding is open; it has details in pink and blue. She has that little crease between her brows that she gets what she's deep in thought. "She… she wants to. The page said it was better for the baby."

He rearranges James in his arms, bringing him closer to his chest. The purplish tint has subsides and now he's just rosy, but he's still pruney and has little specks of that white thing still clinging to him. Bruce manages to get him out of the room and into the next, where the bag rests. He ruffles through it, taking out a little grey blanket. He wraps it around his son and fishes for the little brown hat with bear ears that Peter had recovered from when he was a baby. The kid had assured them that it would be his honor that his 'Little Bro' would inherit something from him, and both Steve and Natasha had caved. How were they to deny the teen something like that?

"Steve? Steve, are you listening to me?" the man snaps his head towards his friend, noting the worried frown marring his features.

"Sorry…"

"I was saying that James will have to cope with a bottle until Natasha is better. We're probably going to have to medicate her and it will go into her milk too, so James won't be able to drink it." Steve just nods, even though he knows Natasha will have his head when she finds out. He's not happy with it either, he knows that breastfeeding is more that just giving the baby the nutrients and antibodies and whatnot, its about the bonding, the twenty/thirty minutes you spend just watching your baby eat from you. He remembers now, how Natasha had been adamant about breastfeeding once they got all the information.

"When will she be able to breastfeed again?" Bruce pounders the question for a second, before giving Steve a number and the caring requirements he has to meet to take Natasha home. Just as he's giving him advice in what formula to buy that's best for James, a sullen looking nurse exits Natasha's room. It immediately sets Steve on edge. "What happened? Is Natasha ok?"

"She's stable, sir, we have her hooked with a bag of fluids and another of blood, but…" the man fidgets, nervous under the stare of two Avengers.

"But? C'mon, Ronnie, what's wrong?"

"She's in a coma."

The next hours are a total blur to Steve. He sits through the medical briefing for Natasha's condition, changes James' diaper –remembers the day he learned to do that– and stands at Natasha's bedside for a total of an hour and three minutes without moving a muscles with his son in his arms until the baby wakes up and demands food. He reluctantly leaves the room in search of something to give the newborn. When he enters the kitchen, he sees two cans of baby formula waiting on the counter. His eyes water and he mentally thanks whomever has thought ahead and bought his baby something to eat in the hours he's been too shocked to function.

He moves efficiently, cradling James close and reading the instructions before starting to prepare it. He's just starting the give him the bottle when Bucky enters the kitchen, hair mused and an anxious look on his face.

"Steve! ECHO told us Nat went into labor last night! How did it go? How is– What the hell are you doing?! You're giving him a bottle?!" Steve raises his eyes for a second before returning them to his son. He doesn't really feel like doing this right now. "Where's Nat? I am so telling on you!" Steve feels his eyes water, but stubbornly blinks the tears away. He keeps his gaze on James as the babe looks up at him with his baby blues and he strokes the thin mop of vibrant red hair on the top of his little head. "Steve? Steve, did something happen?" Bucky steps forward and puts a hand over his friend's shoulder. Steve looks up, his bloodshot eyes making contact with his best friend's. "Steve…"

"She's in a coma…" his voice is weak and he can feel his lower lip tremble in his effort to suppress his emotions. He won't break down in front of his baby, he'll hold up until James' asleep, and then he'll let the walls down. Bucky curses and Steve doesn't even have the energy to chastise him.

"Shit, Steve, I'm sorry. I… God, man…" Bucky's arms are around him in an instant and he's hugging him, not too strong so they don't crush baby James, but enough for Steve to relax slightly. He's not alone, everything will be fine and Natasha will wake up in no time.

He refuses to believe otherwise.

Hours later, when all the Avengers currently in the Facility have gone through her room to see her and James is fed and changed, Steve is left alone, with only his son and the sound of the machines that keep his wife alive to make him company. James is snoring in his arms, and he caresses his fingers through his thin mop of red hair, his eyes not once straying from Natasha. She's pale and has bruises under her eyes, but thankfully her breathing and heartbeat are strong. Bruce had wanted to intubate her, to make sure that air was going into her lungs, but Steve had refused. There were no signs that she would get worse, so there was no need to shove a hard-plastic tube down her throat. If her vitals dropped, then they would intubate her, but in the meantime the cannula under her nose was more than enough.

His hands itch to reach for her, to grab one of her own and hold on tight, but he's afraid of letting go of James, of their baby getting hurt because he wasn't holding him as he should. He shifts, rearranging his arms so they don't fall asleep from being in the same position for too long and the child protests, whimpering pitifully. Steve shushes and rocks him, trying –quite unsuccessfully– to get him back asleep. But James, in true baby-with-super-soldier-serum fashion, calms down but keeps his eyes open and alert and gazes up at his father with big, blue eyes. Steve's eyes water and he smiles, raising the boy so he can kiss his brow.

"Hey, baby… you gotta stay calm, ok? Mommy needs to rest. She got hurt bringing you here, you know? But don't worry, it wasn't your fault." His voice is low and soft. He pats the boy's bottom as he rocks him. "One of her doctors neglected his duties, so now she's sick. She'll get better in no time, though, and you'll get to meet her and eat something very yummy, so much better than formula." James blinks and Steve chuckles. "Yeah, that stuff I've been giving you isn't milk. No need to look at me like that, little one." The baby's expression doesn't changed. Steve sighs with an amused smile on his lips. "Look at me, Nat. Talking to a newborn as if he could understand me. I'm going crazy without you." He looks up, she looks as ashen as she did ten minutes ago. "I managed to remember a few things: how to change his diaper, and how you told me you were pregnant…" he smiles sadly at the memory. They had been fighting, he'd been too reckless in their last mission and paired with her newly raging hormones, she had just shouted at him that he was a father now, that he had to be more careful. The fight had come to a screeching halt, both looking surprised of what had come out of her mouth. "I remembered our first date too…" right after a mission, she'd told him to prepare them something to eat and to meet her at the rooftop of his building. She'd been waiting there in a blanket, surrounded by pillows he didn't even want to know from where she'd gotten and they'd watched the meteor shower snuggled together and then made out like teenagers. He looks at her, his eyes getting glassy yet again. "Please wake up, Nat…" his voice trembles, a tear escapes before he can suppress it. "Please, I need you…"

He's answered by a little whimper from James as he soils his diaper. Steve sighs and gets up. With a little hesitation, he presses James to his chest as he bends over Natasha to press a kiss to her lips before leaving.

The day passes by slowly, with James waking every few hours to eat and do his business before falling asleep again. At least that left Steve a lot of time to jut sit at Natasha's bedside and be with her. Sam and Bucky had gotten him a portable bassinet for when his arms grew tired and James was currently sleeping in it right next to him. He had one of Natasha's hands between his own and he was just staring at her. She was looking better already, her skin looking more rosy and the blue beneath her eyes fading. Her hair was matted and oily, but the only thing he'd managed to do was braid it and set it over her shoulder to keep it from digging into her back.

He looks at the clock, 16:02. In thirty minutes a couple of nurses would come in to move Natasha. They had explained that they had to move her and change her position from time to time to keep her from getting bedsores and keep her muscles from seizing up. Both things hurt like hell –he'd seen pictures of bedsores, not pretty– so he didn't complain when they kick him out every time. He uses the fifteen minutes to feed and change James and if his baby's still asleep, he just wanders around the facility like a lost soul (Bucky's words, not his).

When the nurses come, Steve thanks them once again for caring for Natasha and leaves them to their work with James asleep in his arms. He wanders around the halls until he reaches the main room, where Tony is seated at the table with a two of his top lawyers. Steve frowns, what are they doing here?

"– I don't care, Fred! That man is going to prison!" exclaims Tony, slamming his palm over the table. Fred jumps, but Miranda is already used to Tony's temper when things don't go the way they should, so she just raises a brow.

"There's nothing we can do, Mr. Stark. We can take everything from him, take away his practice license and all his money, but we can't take him to court for manslaughter. Mrs. Rogers' alive, so all we can do is sue him for negligence."

"She's in a coma, Miranda! She's missing the fist days of life of her firstborn; she's never going to get that back!"

"We're aware of that, but there's nothing we can do. The maximum punishment that the court can give him is a big fee, his license taken away and community service." The billionaire is silent for a moment before continuing.

"Then I want him ruined: everything taken away, he won't be able to practice ever again and I want him in the worst community service that there is, as many hours as possible. Understood?" the attorneys nod and Tony dismisses them. Once their gone, Steve steps forward an sits next to Tony. The man jumps and curses. "Holy– Steve! Stop picking things up from your wife, will you?" the soldier smiles softly.

"What was that about?" Tony glares at him for a second before answering.

"I'm gonna destroy Dave Williams. He won't be a doctor or rich for much longer. We're taking him to court for what he did to Nat, and he's going down."

Steve looks down at James as he stirs, a little fist emerging from beneath the little blanket to tuck itself beside a rosy cheek. Bug, blue eyes blink open and gaze up at him and it's just a second before James is making the face he usually does when he's soiling his diaper. Steve gets up again to take care of his child, but he stops and looks at Tony.

"Thank you, Tony. I hope he gets what he deserves." The man nods, a determined look in his eyes. Steve turns and leaves the room, heart slightly lighter now that he knows that the person that almost killed Natasha will pay for what he's done.

The shrill cry coming both from the monitor at his bedside and from outside his room wakes Steve from his slumber and he's on his feet in a flash, trotting down out and entering the nursery. James is wailing harder now, his face red from the effort and his blanket pooled at his feet from his jerky movements.

"Shh, Jamie, shh. Daddy's here, baby; Daddy's here." He picks the boy up and rocks him. He inhales, but he still smells clean, so he must be hungry.

Softly patting the babe's bottom, Steve exits the nursery and goes to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. He grabs one that already has the amount of formula necessary and adds the water before shaking it and putting it in the microwave. James is quiet now, face pressed to Steve's shoulder and he can already feel the drool seeping through his shirt. He sighs, he forgot the burping cloth again. There's a soft beep-beep and Steve grabs the bottle, tests the temperature and deeming it good, he shifts James and pops the nipple into his little mouth. The little one suckles with gusto and Steve returns to the nursery; he sits in the cocoon chair and rocks it, smiling when James closes his eyes contently. He has one little hand over one of Steve's fingers, and he notes that they're so tinny that they can barely close around it.*

Once the child is done, Steve sets the bottle aside, gets a burping cloth and goes about burping and changing James once the smell appears. Once he's back into his pajamas, Steve settles him against his chest and starts to sing first the lullaby his mother used to sing to him and then the Russian one Natasha had taught him. His vision flashes, and suddenly he remembers the day, how she'd told him that she would like for James to speak Russian from birth, how he'd laid his head in her lap next to the still small baby bump and listened to Natasha sing her favorite Russian lullaby.

He blinks and she's gone and he needs a moment to realize that James' asleep. He sets him in his crib, covers him with his teddy bear's blanket. He leans in to press a kiss over his little head before returning to his bed and collapsing in it. Right before he falls asleep, his eyes catch the time in the digital clock: 02:17.

Huh… two hours and a half. That's a new record.

James wakes up again at three four, five thirty, and seven and it's then when Steve decides it's time to start the day. He drinks about a gallon of coffee before he starts to feel like a normal person and remembers a day when he and Natasha had woken up before dawn and sat in front of the windows to see the sunrise, the smell of coffee saturating the air.

As per Bruce and Bucky's request (order), Steve stays home today. The only thing Natasha needs right now is rest, and having him hovering over her just hinders the staff when they're trying to care for her. Instead, he wanders around the compound with James in his arms, pointing things out to him when he's awake, feeding him and changing him. A few hours later, Bruce tells him that they've taken Natasha off her meds, so if she wakes up tomorrow she'll be able to nurse James.

"You hear that, buddy? No more of that yucky stuff." He whispers to his dozing son. The boy gurgles in his sleep and tightens his little hand around the blanket he's wrapped in.

Bruce watches them and offers a silent prayer for whoever is listening to get Natasha back to these two. He knew Steve would be able to raise the kid on his own, just as well as Natasha if their situations were reversed, but it would take an immense toll on him. These two flourished together; they complemented each other in every possible way and more. Where one flawed, the other thrived and vice versa. The loss of one half would leave the other hollow. It all seemed like a fairy tale, that two people depended so deeply from one another and he wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it right now.

Against his better judgment, he herds Steve into Natasha's room and makes a nurse return the bassinet they had stored back into the room. He reminds Steve once again to be patient, that she just needs rest and leaves him alone once the bassinet is put right next to him. He looks at him one final time before leaving and his eyes fill up with sympathy at the sight of the man cradling the baby close to his chest and leaning over so he can put one of Natasha's hands over their son.

Once he hears the door close, he lets the tears fall. They trail silently down his cheeks and James gurgles, looking around the room. One little droplet lands on his little, chubby cheek and he makes a little surprised noise, but soon forgets about it and starts fussing. Looks like someone's hungry. Steve carefully takes Natasha's hand, presses a kiss over the back of it and gets up to care for their kid. Maybe she'll be mad that he gave him formula, but at least she won't wake up to find a starving baby.

He rocks James all the way to the kitchen and smiles gratefully at Sam when he gets up immediately to take the baby. Steve stays silent as he prepares the bottle; the only sound Sam's little murmurs to the child. Once done, he offers it to him and Sam takes it with wide eyes. Steve hasn't really let anyone help him with Jamie, at least not when it comes to feedings and diaper changes, so Sam is surprised to be popping the nipple in James' mouth and watching him suck greedily. He feels grateful to have this little bonding time with his nephew.

"How is she?" he asks a minute later, looking up from the baby's blue eyes to his father's identical ones.

Steve sighs and bites his lip, carding his fingers through his hair and then scratching at his beard. It's getting rather long, he should really trim it or shave it all together. His vision flashes and he finds himself laid out on a bed, Natasha on top of him and with a murderous face as she tells him that if he shaves he'll sleep on the street. His eyes mist over and he shakes his head, gathering himself enough to answer Sam's question.

"Ok, I guess. Bruce said that she's off her meds, so if she wakes up tomorrow she'll be able to breastfeed Jamie. She's only on blood now, she lost a lot." Sam hums and pat's the boy's bottom.

"Yeah… I heard Stark yelling at his lawyers the other day. The new guy almost crapped himself." An amused grin curves their lips upwards for a few seconds. Almost a minute passes before he speaks again. "She'll pull through, Steve. She's the most badass person I know; she wouldn't let this get to her." James finishes his bottle and Sam sets it aside, getting up and facing Steve. "Ok, now help me do this, never burped a baby before."

Steve smiles once again and spends the next five minutes preparing Sam: telling him how to lean James over his shoulder, how to put the burping cloth and how to encourage his son to burp without hurting him. In the end, Sam gets formula all over his neck but Steve is laughing for the first time since the birth, so it's completely worth it.

James returns to Steve's arms and Sam leaves to change, pointing at the newborn and telling him that he'll have his revenge at the first Christmas he's old enough to ask for something. Steve chuckles and rocks his son, who will probably soil his diaper in–

"Guh…" his little face scrunches up and then relaxes before he starts fussing.

Now.

"Mr. Rogers." ECHO's voice echoes in his room, waking him up from his restless sleep.

"Yeah, wha'?" he mumbles, half asleep, rubbing his eyes lazily as he sits up.

"Mrs. Rogers is waking up, sir. Mr. Banner is checking her over as we speak. I thought it would be a good idea to notify you." Steve's head snaps up and he's off the bed in a flash. He throws on shirt and pulls up a pair of pants before dashing out the room and into the nursery. James' is sleeping in his crib, his little blankets bunched up around his waist. Steve slows down and picks him up carefully, taking a blanket with him so he doesn't get cold and dashes out, trotting to the elevator. The doors open silently and as soon as he's in, it starts its trip towards the medical ward.

They arrive a few minutes later and James protests at the harsh lights, his little face scrunching up in discomfort until ECHO lowers them and he goes back to sleep. Just as he's about to step towards the hallway, Bruce exits Natasha's room. The older man smiles to him and motions into the room with a sweep of his arm. The smile that appears on Steve's face could have lighted up a stadium. He trots like a giddy child to the door and takes a deep breath before entering.

Blue eyes collide with green and Natasha whispers his name; that's all his tear ducts need to start working and it's like they send a message because she starts crying too. He rushes over and bends over her, careful not to crush their son and starts pressing kisses all over her face. She rasps out a little laugh and raises a hand to stop him and kiss him properly. They nuzzle their faces together and Steve smiles, the tightness that has been compressing his chest finally easing. His eyes flash and he's suddenly feeling like shit and Natasha is bent over him, eyes red and glassy and smiling. Looks like their positions had been reversed once.

"Steve…" she coughs and he snaps out of it. He presses a kiss to her brow and smiles softly.

"Here, Nat. Meet Jamie." His voice is soft and his hands tender as he helps her settle their sleeping son into her tired arms. Once he's sure her arms aren't too weak still that she'll drop him, he leaves her a moment to have James to herself and goes to get her some water. He returns a couple of minutes later and finds her humming the Irish lullaby his mother sang to him. It makes him smile once again. "Here, doll, drink some." He points the straw to her and she gulps greedily. "Easy, Tash, take it easy." He murmurs, pushing her hair to the side with his free hand and curling an arm around hers to better support their child.

"What happened?" she murmurs once she's done with the water. He sets the glass aside and arranges himself better around her. She drops her head to his chest as if it weights a ton. She groans and presses further. "My head's killing me. It's like a thousand elephants stomped over me." Steve caresses her hand.

"The doc left without stitching you up, you lost a lot of blood." His voice cracks and he clears his throat before continuing. "You've been in a coma for almost three days, Natasha." She looks up surprised and Steve nods. She lowers her eyes back down to James and takes in a deep breath, letting the information sink in. She caresses his little cheeks with her knuckles.

"I lost his first days…" she whispers brokenly, her voice wet with impending tears. Steve sniffles and holds her tighter, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Tony already has his lawyers on him. He will pay." She hums and adjusts the blanket around James' face.

"That won't give me those days back…"

A day later, Natasha is released with strict orders to not do anything but rest. Steve is given a list of things to do and they're out, Natasha in a wheelchair with James gurgling in her arms and Steve behind her, pushing her into their home and to their room. As he sets her in their bed, James starts fussing.

"I bet he's hungry." Says Steve, fluffing a pillow to put it behind Natasha so she's more comfortable. "You wanna try nursing him? Bruce told me you'd be able to now." She looks up at him and smiles, nodding.

With Steve's help, Natasha takes off her shirt and bra –next time she'll put on a nursing one– and rearranges James so he's facing her nipple. He latches on quickly and his eyes close in contentment. Natasha shudders at the unusual sensation but relaxes quickly, laying back towards Steve and simply admiring their baby, nursing for the first time.

"See, sweetie? This is so much better than formula." Whispers Steve in a conspiratorial way, making Natasha snort and turn to look at him. She had been upset that James had been on formula, but obviously understood that there was no other choice.

"What?" she chuckles and Steve shrugs, plastering on an innocent look on his face.

"Well, it's true! Your milk has to be a thousand times better than formula, and not just in taste! He just never made that face when I gave him a bottle, so I'm right." He nods, a smug look on his face before he dissolves into laughter. Natasha soon follows and they don't stop until James lets go and Natasha moves him to her other breast.

Once James is done, Steve takes him for burping and changing before returning him to Natasha while he goes to prepare dinner. He makes a simple omelet of cheese, ham and just a pinch of cumin to make it tastier. He plates it and makes a little smiley face over the omelet with cumin. He puts both in a tray and goes back to his family. He finds Natasha rocking a dozing James, softly singing the Russian lullaby she'd taught him. She looks up and smiles softly; he returns it ad sets the tray on the bed. He takes James and tucks him in his crib in the nursery. They enjoy of their dinner in silence, exchanging loving looks and tender smiles.

As he cleans the dishes, Steve thanks whoever is listening for returning Natasha to them. And as he settles in, tucking himself as close to her as possible and entwining his legs and fingers with hers, he presses a long kiss to her lips and smiles, happy to be home once again. At last.

*- If any of my readers is an artist, would you draw this little moment for me? I just keep imagining in my head: this little, teeny tinny hand trying to close around one of Steve's fingers and Steve getting all choked up about it. Also, if anybody feels like drawing anything about any of my stories, feel free to do so! The only thing I ask is for you to send me the web link so I can fangirl over it XDXD.

Also, Nat's feeling so down because she's anemic, and that makes you feel shitting. And that, on top of delivering a baby leaves her kinda on the ground. This actually happened to my aunt when she birthed my baby cousin, some douche left without stitching her up and she was in a coma for a week or so, 6 days I think. Anyway, the thing is that I asked if she could tell me about it and this is her description of how she felt. I don't know any more detailed experiences, so I rolled with it.

Anyway, this is the last chapter. I really wasn't expecting to end it so quickly, but the story develops however it wants and I have no control over it whatsoever. However, if at least ten or so people ask, I'll do an epilogue. I would do it without people asking, but I have other things to do and if no one is interested in an epilogue I'll continue with my other stories.

Thank you all for reading and Merry Christmas (I know I'm early, but knowing me I won't post anything for Christmas and better save than sorry). Also, to all students, hope you get good marks, I know I'm nervous for them XD.