I know it's been a while, and it's rather short, but here's the final chapter. Not to worry, however: the story continues in "Enemy of the Nation," which is already up and running.

Hospital beds. Checking with the doctors every hour. Beating up Andrew Forson for the fifth time that night.

Steve Rogers wasn't exactly a happy man.

Sam had tried to calm him, to get him to see that Wanda was going to recover any minute. But he didn't see it. As long as she was unconscious, he felt finished. He felt like he'd failed his job: leading and assisting his teammates.

And he'd fallen short on the second part of the clause.

Now, as he waited outside Wanda's hospital room, ten hours later, he couldn't care less about the lack of sleep he was no doubt experiencing the effects of. He just wanted to make sure that Wanda Maximoff was going to get through this.

Because, damnit, he was in love with her. He didn't intend to, but now he was, and he was going to have to live with the effects of it.

Sam came in the waiting room again, this time accompanied by Darcy. Both of them had very glum looks on their faces.

"I'm sorry," said Darcy. Surprisingly, there was no sarcasm in her voice. And then she said, "She's gonna live, right?"

Sam stared her down. Now wasn't the place for that.

"Sorry," Darcy said again, sheepishly.

Steve just stared into empty space. Not wanting to upset him further, Sam and Darcy left him, hoping it would clear his mind or something. The doctor came in for another update.

"She's stable," the doctor said. "You can see her again if you want, though I doubt she'll wake up soon."

"Thank you." Steve walked in and sat in another chair, this one next to Wanda's hospital bed. She was unconscious, heavily sedated, and still, she looked beautiful. Like an angel at rest, as his mother used to say.

Please wake up, Steve thought to himself as the heartbeat machine recorded the heartbeats in rhythm. Please don't do this to me. I… I love you.

He spent a few more minutes praying. He didn't do it that often, and he knew he should do it more, so he did, silently.

Steve was about to get another glass of water when he heard a faint voice.

"S-Steve? Is that you?"

Wanda was awake. Half-awake, to be precise, but not unconscious all the same. Steve went to her side. "Thank God. How are you feeling?"

"Very woozy… what happened to my wound?" Her hand lazily felt around where Forson's bullets had hit her. The blood and grime had been replaced by some hesitantly done stiches.

"We got you to a hospital. They fixed you up. You're safe now." She smiled and relaxed a little bit more.

"Steve… what about Forson?"

Andrew Forson.

"He's not going to hurt you ever again. Not on my watch." He'd taken steps to reassure himself of that: Forson had been dropped off at Stark's private prison. Project 42, or that was what Stark had called it. It was a convenient place to send those they didn't want but couldn't kill. As much as Steve wanted to kill the bastard, Forson's death would stir a hornet's nest of trouble, especially if Ares International was still keeping tabs on the situation.

As for Charon and Neptune, they were handed off to NATO. Let them settle those two European mercenaries out.

Wanda exhumed and stretched a little bit. Then she thought for a moment, and then said, "Was what Forson said about my biological father true?"

"I don't know," said Steve in reply. "I doubt it. Probably something he thought of to distract you so that he could shoot you. I wouldn't think too much of it."

Unknown to her, he did think if it. A lot, in fact.

After dropping off the mercenaries at a NATO base in Somalia, Steve went into searching old SHIELD files of anyone named Erik Lensherr. He found a few mentions of one in Germany, but didn't get much more other than that he was the son of Holocaust survivors and that he'd been expelled from East Germany for "violent insurrection", along with mentioning of metal manipulation. Steve didn't know what to make of that last part; in this day and age anything was possible.

"Oh, okay then. And Steve…"

"Yes?"

She pulled him in for a sweet and passionate kiss, using the energy she had left in her. She felt it needed to be expressed in the way she felt best. After a few seconds, she broke contact.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Of course," said Steve, blushing. "I love ya."

Damnit. He'd said it, and there was not taking it back.

"I love you too," was the reply.

He was pleasantly surprised that she said it back. One of his biggest fears was rejection: as a child, being small and runty didn't help his confidence levels one bit. Nowadays, with a prime human physique, he still had that lingering fear of being said "no" to.

To hear her repeat his intentions was satisfying.

Outside the hospital, the two men waited for the Captain to leave. They'd been monitoring everything since Wanda had arrived.

"She's safe," said the older of the two men.

"You sure about that?" asked the younger of the two, in what would be described as a cocky attitude. "She's your daughter. You gonna let Captain America fondle with her?"

"I said, she's safe." The older man raised his voice slightly. "The good Captain cares for her, and that's good. But he'll have to make a choice very soon. She will, too. A lot of people will."

"Whatever you say, Eric," said Pyro as the two got back in their vehicle.

And that takes care of that. Remember to follow/favorite "Enemy of the Nation," and maybe a review or two!