A/N: I couldn't find a good gif to go with this chapter and it's a bit of a downer anyway...So, have a happy Chris Evans :)

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It's Steve's second night in my computer class. He's an incredibly fast learner, but it's like he's never even touched a computer before. How would that even be possible? He picks up everything with ease so long as I make sure to explain all the terminology, and I do mean all the terminology. He didn't know what the mouse was. Just, how?

I had just started on the wonders of the mighty Google when my phone starts ringing. I never bother putting it on vibrate when I'm at work because I have no friends who would call me. That sounds pathetic. I mean, I have a friend in California, but with the time difference and her work hours I don't worry about an unexpected call. If someone is calling me now, it can only be bad.

My heart is in my throat as I fumble to snag my phone out of my pocket. A quick glance at the caller ID sends my heart falling to my shoes. "E-excuse me, everyone. I'll be right back." I walk out of the room as fast as I can and shut the door behind me. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Jamie calling from Minter Legacy Hospital. May I speak with Anne Johnson please?"

≈o≈

As soon as I hang up, I go back to my class, opening the door with trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry everyone, but we have to end class early tonight. I-I'll make it up to you next week with some of my homemade snickerdoodles." They look disappointed, but most are kind enough not to say anything. I grab my purse and as I wait for them all to gather their things and shut off their computers so I can lock up behind them, Steve touches my arm. I nearly jump out of my skin. I had no idea he was standing next to me.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes for my reaction. "What happened?"

The last of the cute old ladies has passed out the door, leaving Steve and me alone in the room. His question fills my eyes with tears as I fumble for my keys, unable to find the right one through my blurred vision. Steve gently grabs my hands, stilling my movements.

"I-I- that was the hospital. It- my mom had a-a, I don't even remember what he called it. What did he say? I'm such an idiot. How could I already forget what it was called? I'm so stupid! I-I need to get to the hospital. I need to lock up and leave. Where are m-my keys?"

His grip on my hands tightens. "You're holding your keys, Anne."

"Oh." I try to tug my hands away but he doesn't let go. Instead, Steve unwraps my death grip on my keys and takes them from me. But he leaves his left hand holding my right. He flicks the lights off and after leading me through the door, shuts it behind us.

Somehow, he knows which key locks the door and does so with ease. Pulling me along, he leads me through the library and out the front doors. Jeff, the night guard, will lock the front doors for us. I expect him to let go now that we're outside, but he keeps his hand on mine and doesn't stop until we reach a motorcycle parked at the curb.

"All right, what's the name of the hospital?" He asks, as he looks me carefully in the eyes.

"Uh, it's Minter Legacy." My head is swimming.

"Do you know what street it's on?" His voice is smooth and calm.

"I- it's- I usually just take the bus from the apartment. It- how come I can't remember?" My chest is tight. I feel my tears finally start to fall as my eyes dart around trying desperately to find something I don't know.

"Hey, Anne, look at me." Steve drops my hand to place both of his on either side of my jaw. My eyes flutter, doing what they can to dispel the tears filling my eyes, but I look him in the eye again. "Good," he soothes. "Now, they called you on your cell phone, so I should be able to call that number back, right?"

I nod in his hands.

"Okay. Give me your phone, please."

I quickly fish it out of my pocket and hand it to him without a second thought.

"How do I...?" He trails off.

"Sorry, I-I forgot." I snatch it back and enter my pin before pulling up my recent calls. "It's that first one," I tell him as I hand it back to him. Taking the phone, he calls the hospital and gets directions from the library.

Once he hangs up, he gives me my phone back.

"So h-how do I get there from here? Did they say which bus I need to take? I-I don't really know the routes very well." I immediately start rambling.

"Here," he holds out a helmet from one of the side compartments of the motorcycle. I take it numbly.

"W-what?"

"You're not in any shape to try to get there by yourself. Now put that on and slide on behind me." He moves to get on his Harley. It smoothly growls to life.

I smash the helmet on my head and fumble with the buckle. I should've looked at it before I put it on. I have no idea how to fasten it. Steve tugs my arm to move me closer. He quickly works the buckle and I throw my leg over the seat, sitting behind him.

Turning to look over his shoulder, he asks, "you ever ridden a motorcycle before?"

I shake my head.

"It's just a bike. Just hold on," he takes my hands and puts them on his sides. I grab his thick jacket in a death grip. "I won't let anything happen to you, okay? We'll be there in no time."

I have no idea how we got there. I don't even remember pulling away from the curb. But somehow we did arrive at the hospital. As soon as Steve pulls into a space I jump off the bike and tear at the helmet, trying to take it off. Steve's hands once again cover mine and move them away. He has the helmet off in no time and I jog to the glass doors.

I dodge doctors and nurses as I make my way to the check-in. "Excuse me, someone called earlier about my mom?"

The nurse at the desk turns to the computer and without looking up asks, "Name?"

"My mom's name is Gemma Johnson. I'm Anne Johnson."

He types and clicks and puts in a call to Doctor Tanner, my mother's main physician. She walks over in a few minutes, luckily before I can pull out my hair.

"Ms. Johnson," she greets me with forced kindness.

"Doctor Tanner."

We shake hands but I really just want her to tell me what the heck went wrong. Instead, she looks over my shoulder. "And are you family?"

I turn in confusion.

Steve had followed me in.

"I'm Anne's f-"

"Fiancé, Steve Rogers," I finish, cutting him off rather rudely. I plead with him with my eyes. He seems to understand, as he doesn't say anything else.

"Nice to meet you Steve." She smiles at him.

"Nice to meet you too, ma'am," he replies politely.

"Can you please tell me what happened?" I'm going out of my mind here.

"Your mother was making progress and doing quite well this last month."

"Yes, I know. So what went wrong?"

"About forty-five minutes ago, she started showing the signs of suffering from a ruptured aneurysm. We immediately sent her for a CT scan, where our initial diagnosis was confirmed."

"A-An aneurysm? Isn't, isn't that a bleed in the brain?"

"Yes."

My chest squeezes tightly. "What do we do?"

"We need to operate. They're currently prepping her for surgery, but we need you to sign your consent." She hands me the clipboard she's been holding.

I can't breathe. Brain surgery? They use that as a metric of difficult things for a reason.

Steve wraps an arm around me, pulling me snugly against his side.

I can't understand what's going on. She was fine, just fine, when I visited her two days ago. Her spirits were up, her pain was low. There was nothing wrong. She was getting better. She was going to go home soon. Just another week, they had thought. And now...a bleed in her brain...

"Anne, you need to sign. The sooner you sign, the sooner they can operate, the better the chances are that the damage from the bleed is reduced and the swelling kept at a minimum. Do you understand? You need to sign." Doctor Tanner is calm, but insistent.

I blink stupidly before reaching for her clipboard with shaking hands. "P-pen? I-I don't have a pen," I hear myself whisper pathetically.

The doctor quickly hands me one of her own and I blindly give my signature. The instant the pen leaves the paper Doctor Tanner whips it and the clipboard out of my grasp. With a reflexive 'thank you' she disappears down the hallway.

≈o≈

I return to my senses in the surgery waiting room. I don't know how long I've been here, but the bland clock on the wall shows that it's past midnight now. Steve is sitting right next to me, some car magazine on his lap. "Steve?" My small voice immediately catches his attention; his earnest blue eyes snap to my face. "What are you still doing here? That sounded terrible. I meant, what- why did you stay? You should've gone home."

Steve just gives a small shake of his head. "I wasn't going to leave you alone Anne."

"Oh."

He seems hesitant to ask me something. I raise my eyebrows slightly in encouragement. "Do, do you have any family you need to call?"

I blink and look away to stare at the speckled linoleum beneath my shoes. "No. No, there's no one else," I whisper hoarsely.

Steve moves his left hand, which I only vaguely realize had been holding my right hand, to wrap his arm around me again. I tuck into his shoulder and he rests his head on mine. Not saying anything. Not needing to use words to speak. Just being there. Breathing the same air. Waiting together. Waiting. Together. Not alone.

After a long while, I push out a deep breath. "She was in a car accident about a month ago. It, it was bad. The car was totaled, and so was she I guess. She had broken her back, left arm, three ribs, and collarbone, fractured her skull, crushed her left leg, and punctured a lung. Never mind the sixty-eight stitches she needed for all of her lacerations.

"I-I was in California when I got the call. That's when I moved out here. So she wouldn't be alone.

"She was in so much p-pain...by the time I had made it to the hospital, they had put her in a medically induced coma. They kept her under for a few days. 'Cautiously optimistic', is what they said I should be, but that there wouldn't be any way of knowing just how bad her head injury was until she woke up. If she woke up."

Steve stayed quiet, unmoving except for his breathing. Encouraging my words through his silence.

"But she did, she woke up. That was about a week before you moved in. When she woke up, she was so much better. Her pain was manageable, she remembered everything except the accident itself, and she only got better as the days went on. She was so strong. Always strong for me. Showing that she was without a doubt getting better. That's why I don't- I don't understand how this could have happened...she was fine...she was fine..."

I don't cry. I can't. I can't feel anything.

Well, almost.

I can feel the air move in and out of my lungs. I can feel just how tired I am. I can feel Steve's arm tighten slightly around me. I can feel his hand as he strokes my hair. I can feel his heart beat steadily against my ear.

≈o≈

"Are you sure you want me to be here?"

"Of course." I adjust my grip on his hand. "I think you'd like my mom, and I know she'd love you. A-And I'd appreciate the company."

Steve nods in understanding, giving my hand a small squeeze. I take a breath, holding it as I close my eyes for a moment before opening her door.

She looks so small. So fragile, unmoving and unconscious on her hospital bed. Just like after the accident.

Slowly, I tug Steve to her bedside.

"Steve, this is my mom, Gemma Johnson. Mom, this is Steve. He's my neighbor that I told you about." I feel a bit idiotic, but my mom had told me that she could sometimes hear what was happening around her when they had put her into a coma. I can feel Steve looking at me, probably wondering what I would have to say about him. "I told her about the spider."

He nods in understanding before humoring me by introducing himself. "Hello Ms. Johnson. I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but I look forward to speaking with you when you're feeling better."

Steve stays with me as I sit and talk quietly by my mom's bedside. I hadn't realized how much it can mean to just be there for someone. I wouldn't have said before tonight that Steve and I are even friends. What sort of person would go so far out of his way to help someone he barely knows?