The medics looked over Steve as his arms and legs were restrained in a reinforced bed they had brought just for the occasion. His complexion had improved, no doubt due to being given a steady dosage of nutrients and liquids. Claire sat nearby, ready for the moment he would wake.

It had been hours. He hadn't woken up, thanks to a consistent stream of sleeping drugs. She wanted only to speak to him, but knew it was best that he sleep through any tests, lest another transformation trigger.

She wanted to touch him: make sure she wasn't going mad. She saw him die, of that she was sure. All breath had ceased.

His blood stopped flowing. She knew there was only one way that could happen. Any possible reasons he could be here were all she could chew on as she watched the tests.

One of the medics approached her side, alerting her to the current situation.

"None of the patients are cause for immediate danger. Transport is to commence soon, ma'am," a melodic voice cooed.

She looked up at them, weariness apparent in both of their features. Everyone was tired.

"Thanks, Miriam," she sighed, looking back to Steve. "You think we'll get any rest at the hospital?"

Miriam the medic smiled, her excitement at the prospect of rest apparent. "I sure hope so."

They had to be safe. Everyone was to stay the night at a special hospital, while the patients rested and were relocated.

Most were set to go to other facilities. Those with the prospect for rehabilitation would be set on that path, each given a team for support. Others less likely for recovery would still be given options. Some could go on to be soldiers for events just like these, given enough training. And others… Others would break.

It always happens, she had become nearly dulled to it.

Stepping up, she walked to Steve's side. A team was already moving him out of the building. She waved at Miriam, and followed.

In Steve's case… She had pulled a few strings.

She just hoped it would be enough.

—-

Him.

The events replayed in a smoky, murky darkness.

He was dying again, the familiar sensation creeping down his spine. It would tear him away from her. The cruel pain had broken his body past the point of repair.

A nightmare after all, he nearly laughed.

He noted that she held him as his consciousness faded, and smiled.

Steve was happy that she would do such a thing, but, of course she would. She was his dream, after all. The one part of it that had gone almost as he wanted.

Just, I wanted to hold you. He tried to tell her that, even if she wasn't there, but the entity known as himself evaporated into smoke, melting into the rest of everything.

Only the sentiment remained, permeated the entirety of all.

I wanted to hold you.

—-

Her.

She stayed with him in the van. She stayed with him in the hospital.

There was a short window of time she needed tests of her own, but as soon as they ended, she returned back to his room. Back to the chair by his bedside.

The patients from the facility were all given guarded rooms, but Steve's boasted the most. He was the one who had the largest capacity for damage, after all.

He had been asleep the entire time. Soon, the doctor had said, he should wake up. They had a supply of the anti-transformation drug for use at a moment's notice, just in case.

"He's going to be very out of it," the doctor warned. "Don't be expecting much just yet."

Claire nodded and stroked Steve's hair. She wanted to undo the unpleasantness of earlier, and hoped the whole affair hadn't been traumatic.

She looked around the room, noting all of the guards. They were silent, all stoic with their weapons. Her sight ended on the metal keeping his abdomen flat against the bed, incapable of easy escape.

Claire winced. It's not the kind of thing I want him to wake up to. Suddenly, she was glad that he wouldn't be the most lucid.

She would ease him into normalcy.

—-

Several minutes later, he stirred, snapping Claire to attention. Unknowingly, her breath became impossible to regulate as she searched his face.

Slowly, so slowly she thought herself insane, his eyes opened. The orange firecrackers searched the room at a languid pace. His expression remained neutral, groggy. Based on how many drugs he had pumping through his veins, she wasn't surprised.

Still holding her breath, she wanted to wait for him to notice her. When that didn't happen, she remembered the soldiers. Steve had been staring at one, his face unmoving. The soldier stared back.

Oh, no, no, no, she wasn't going to let this happen. "S-Steve," she began. His eyes found hers.

Oh… She suddenly realized, as his unblinking gaze settled on her for what seemed an eternity: she didn't know what to say to him.

She had rehearsed this very scenario, or something similar enough, too many times to count, and was filled to bursting with questions. And yet, as his eyes gazed into hers, every word escaped her.

Slight recognition sparked behind his irises, and his eyebrows formed a crease.

Claire could only hold his gaze. His lips parted, accompanied by an immediate set of rasps.

"Ea—" he began, but then stopped, looking down for several moments before trying again. "Re—" he tried. Looking defeated, he took a deep breath, and faced Claire once more.

"Re… al?" The question punctuated the look of worry weaving its way into his features.

She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming her frustrations at a world where this could happen. He had doubted the feasibility of his own rescue.

"Steve…" She lifted her right hand, deliberately keeping her movements slow, so his delayed reactions could still register them. Placing it on his blanket, she slid the appendage just in front of his left hand. She kept it there.

Claire tried to smile as his eyes flicked from her hand to hers, questioningly. "See for yourself."

Steve looked back down at her hand, his fingers reactivating like rusty cogs long dormant. They didn't reach out to meet hers, but instead flexed closely.

She searched his face. The crease was deeper, as his attention was given only to her hand.

Is he… afraid to find out?

"Steve," she forced her voice into the shape of normalcy. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." She didn't dare move her hand. If he needed time, he was more than welcome to as much as he needed.

His eyes tentatively met hers once more, before stretching one finger quickly against her. A leap of faith. She reflexively encased her fingers around that hand, sad but understanding of his jolted reaction. He didn't remove his hand.

"See?" She rethought her words. "Feel?"

After a while, his hand shifted, allowing his fingers to tentatively curl around her hand. The force he used was more than she expected, but she bit through the momentary pain. He glanced again at her face, features finally unknitting. She watched him as his eyes slowly closed, softening his grip but never taking his gaze from their linked hands.

Steve had fallen asleep like that, and Claire did not dare remove her hand. She didn't want to, but the action proved rather limiting in her range of motion. Smiling to herself about such a wonderful problem, she laid her face on the bed, never breaking their physical connection. Claire fell blissfully asleep, despite the silent army never looking away from the two.

—-

Him.

Dispelling the darkness, Steve's eyes were met with a dim, hazy light. It nonetheless overwhelmed him.

This isn't my cell… Where… His eyes searched through muck and grime, settling on a vaguely human-like mass.

Who… he struggled and strained. Who is that…?

After a few moments, he heard her voice again, immediately moving his face to find its source.

His vision focused, and her features found form. He suddenly felt more uncomfortable.

Steve's dreams used to exist outside of his cell, daring to hope whenever he fell unconscious. They stopped roaming years ago.

And yet, here he was. It was a nondescript place, the walls a pale white and the air thick with a medicinal smell. It made him think of his mother, holding his hand as cruel nurses would inject him.

He hadn't thought of his family in so long, and the associations were too painful to dwell further on. No, he was more interested in who or what was in front of him now.

If this really was a fever dream, then it would be a dream with a dream sequence. Maybe a dying mind gets more creative? That didn't make much sense to him. It should only degrade into less and less than it was before.

Then… maybe… He didn't want to hope. She was silent, timidly existing under his scrutiny.

"Ea—" he began, but then stopped, looking down for several moments before trying again.

The dream had already placated him enough, he told himself. To actually hope was a different matter altogether. He'd given up. To fight again, only for it to be fruitless, would send him crashing down below.

"Re—" he fought, taking a deep breath and solidifying his resolve.

"Re… al?" He finished, terrified.

He heard her call his name, and offer her hand. He was torn between denying how much he wanted her to be real. Even a dream is enough.

Even a… His fingers began to move, but he still couldn't touch her hand.

He couldn't take his eyes off it. He couldn't fool himself this much with physical sensation, could he?

Then… earlier… The events of earlier came back. He barely registered Claire's new reassurances. He could only think of how he had felt her then.

His eyes flicked to hers, burning them into his memory. Best to be safe, right?

Worst case scenario, he realized, he would be just as hopeless as before. Realizing that, he couldn't bear not to try.

He took a leap of faith.

She didn't disappear. Instead, her hand moved and encapsulated his own.

She can't be real, she can't be real, but he knew that she was.

"See?" A pause. "Feel?" He finally accepted it, and couldn't help but grip her hand with more intensity than planned. He looked at her face again, hoping she knew he was sorry.

Transfixed by the tether to reality, his eyes returned to their hands. He wanted to think more about what all of this could mean, but he was too tired. The adrenaline was leaving him.

It isn't so bad… to leave it like this… just for now…

His world drifted into the most pleasant blackness.