"Sure, I don't use that hand all that much anyway," Sebastian whined, trying to pull from your grip, only to make you squeeze tighter with each wave of contraction. "Fuck, (Y/N), are you a super soldier too?"

"I'm...sorry..."

"It's okay," he grimaced, doing his best to look like he wasn't about to cry. When the pain wasn't alleviating, you twisted your grip, forcing him down to the sticky floor of the cab. "Just breathe...just breathe..."

"I am breathing..."

"I was talking to myself, (Y/N)..."

~~~

"No, I need a ticket to New York as fast as I can," Chris groaned into the phone, pacing the length of his living room, running his hand nervously across his beard and into his disheveled hair. "Listen, money is no issue. I'll take a private flight if I have to."

In his other hand was his second phone, typing rapidly back and forth with Seb, getting up-to-the-minute updates on how you were doing. Between texts with him, he was frantically trying to get Steve to answer, but had yet to be successful. He had tried to reach everyone on the team and got absolutely nowhere. "What the fuck," he mumbled, "did they all change their damn phone numbers or something? Yes," he answered, returning to the first call, "okay, great. I'll be there in thirty. No, I won't be late. Thank you!"

~~~

"Woah, holy shit, what just happened?" Sebastian jumped, hitting his head on the roof of the vehicle. "Oh come on! Did your water just break on me? That's soooo gross."

"Fuck off," you panted, leaning back against the seat with your eyes closed, finally with a moment to rest between the waves of pain. You didn't mean to be harsh with him, but with each passing moment and the growing pain that kept assaulting you, your mood was bound to turn sour. "It's not like I did it on purpose, asshole."

"Oh, god, it's in my shoes."

"I'll buy you new ones."

The car jolted to a halt, the bright red light of the emergency room sign illuminating the inside of the cab. You reached for the door handle, but Seb jumped out first, throwing a handful of bills to the driver and reaching inside for you. "Easy, alright? Take it slow."

The shift in position was too much and a new wave hit you fast, buckling your knees and nearly dropping you to the ground. His quick reaction brought his arms under you, lifting you to him tightly so he could break into a run towards the door.

~~~

Chris sprinted through the airport, having barely made it through security fast enough to make it to the gate. He threw his bag in the overhead storage and flopped into his seat, breathless but wound tight, his legs bouncing and his fingers tapping the arm rest from the nerves that were overtaking him.

"Water?"

"Yes," he panted, frantically grabbing the bottle and throwing the cap aside, taking it down in one long drink. "Thank you. Is there any way I could get a beer? Or anything that has any alcohol in it?"

The stewardess nodded politely and left towards the galley, leaving him to return to his frantic attempts at reaching Steve. "I'm gonna kill that son of a-"

"Here you are, sir."

"Thanks," he nodded, taking the beer and making quick work of emptying it. "Wait, could you tell me how long before we take off?"

"We were just waiting for you, Mr. Evans," she smiled politely, but he could see the annoyance in her eyes, though he couldn't really care less what she or any of these people thought. Normally it would be out of the question for a plane to wait for him; he didn't believe that he would be important enough, and nowhere near deserving of the time that the other passengers were trusting him with. But right now, with you on the other side of the country waiting for him, and with Steve Rogers counting on him to get to you, these strangers jammed into this flying sardine can with him meant absolutely zero.

~~~

"Chris is on his way, (Y/N). I'm gonna need you to keep that kid in there until he gets here, okay?"

"Mmm hmm," you moaned quietly, now enjoying the medicated haze that you had been put into. The rapid beeping of the monitors filled the room, reassuring you of the tiny heartbeat that you so desperately needed to hear. "Steve?"

Sebastian dropped his head and rested it on the side rail of your bed with a long exhalation filled with both frustration and fatigue. "We still haven't reached him. But we're trying, I promise." He startled at an alert from his phone that was resting in his lap, the screen alight with a new text from Chris.

Landed. Are we okay?

I think so. Lots of drugs to calm her down.

Good work, man.

Before Seb could continue, your doctor and a few others entered the room, eyeing him curiously with their eyes darting towards the hand he had rested in yours. "I'm sorry," the doctor began, "is Captain Rogers on the way?"

"We're still trying to reach him. He's out on a mission and we can't reach anyone on the team."

"I see. (Y/N), can I talk freely in front of Mr..."

"Sebastian works just fine," he replied.

"Can I talk freely in front of him?"

A pain was building again, but you nodded in agreement, trying your best to focus on both the control of your breathing and the doctor's words. You sucked in a deep breath, signaling Seb to grab your hand as he moved his face close to yours. "Slow down, (Y/N). In...and out...slowly..." he whispered in a calm voice, the opposite of how he had been such a short time ago. "Look at me, honey. There you go, just concentrate on what I'm saying."

"You're really good at this," one of the nurses said with a smile, not doing very well at masking her awe at having Sebastian Stan right in front of her. "You must have done this before."

"No," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours, "I'm just a fast learner."

~~~

When the team finished their work for the day and began to drag their weary bodies back to their makeshift home base, the last thing any of them wanted was something other than a shower and to sleep. Steve had spent every moment away filled with worry, but since he hadn't heard anything, he knew that you were in good hands.

"So, when can we get out of this hellhole, Rogers?" Tony asked, removing his helmet and stepping out of the suit. "You've got to be missing her enough to speed this along for us, right? We could really benefit from a little favoritism on your part."

"Tomorrow," he groaned in reply, removing his own helmet and throwing it haphazardly onto his bunk. "We should be clear by late afternoon." Steve began to dig around in his pack, searching for his phone to see if you had tried to call him. "Hmm, that's really strange," he mumbled to himself. "Hey guys, does anyone have any missed calls or messages on your phones?"

Each teammate rummaged through their own belongings, removing their phones to find the same result. "No, Cap, sorry. I've got nothing," Clint agreed, looking around the room to see everyone nodding with his assessment.

"Here," Tony stepped forward, "maybe we lost our interface. Give me it." He took Steve's phone and walked to his suit, opening a compartment within it and making a few random adjustments. "Hey, FRIDAY. Run a diagnostic for me, check our communications interface and linkage." After only a few seconds, the small room was filled with the echoes of frantic and repetitive alerts from every phone in their hands. "Oh, shit, Steve," Tony gasped, throwing Steve's phone to him.

Each of them opened their phones to find call after call and text after text missed, but none more than Steve. "I have over a hundred texts, and 45 missed calls in the last twelve hours, Tony," he said, frantically beginning to gather his supplies, "how the hell did we get locked out?" As he ran towards the jet with the team in tow, he fought back the fear that was beginning to grip him and making it hard for him to breathe.

"I knew this was going to happen. I knew it."

~~~

"Hey!" Chris called out to Sebastian from across the waiting room, throwing his ID to the nurses at the desk as he ran by. "What's going on? Where is she? Did you get a hold of Steve? Are they gonna be okay?"

"Okay, I'm gonna need you to calm down, because all you're doing is making me nervous again, and only just got my shit together."

Chris reached out and slapped his hand onto Seb's shoulder, trying to slow down from the energy that had been building during his entire flight; it was an anxiety that no amount of alcohol was able to quell. "You're right, man, I'm sorry. You've really held it together. Proud of ya."

"Listen, they're taking her into surgery, something about too much strain on the kid to deliver vag...the, um, normal way..."

Chris smiled for a brief second at his friends' hesitancy and discomfort, but quickly shifted into a state of worry at the realization of what he was actually saying. "So wait, why aren't you in there with her?"

"Are you kidding? I'll pass out. No way," he backed up, his hands in the air. "You've gotta do it. Between getting this finger broken," he lifted his hand into the air before his face, "and my feet getting soaked in that nasty yuck, I've done my time."

~~~

"Alright, Evans, you can do this," he said to his reflection, looking up and down at the blue surgical scrubs they had given him, holding the hair cap in front of him. "Just don't look over the screen and you won't see anything, right? Right," he nodded, slipping the cap on and taking one last look at himself with a firm point at the version of him looking back. "Don't look over the screen." He turned to leave, pausing just as he reached the door at the sound of his phone coming from where they had locked away his belongings.

"Please be Steve, please be Steve..." he whispered, taking his phone in hand with a wide grin.

Please take care of her, Chris. I'm almost there.