GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON DC

Sheila Donovan stood in the locker room, pulling on her navy scrubs and tied her red hair back in a tight bun, ready to start work at the Emergency Department at George Washington U. Despite that she had very little sleep, suffered from a sore back and feet, she was dedicated to being a nurse. She would do whatever it took to see a patient to live to see another day when they left the hospital. If they died, she always felt she had failed them. While some people praised nurses as heroes, others saw them as villains. It was not an easy life, but it was all in a day's work.

When she heard her name being paged on the overhead, she quickly pulled on her sneakers and began to run down the hallway. She hung her stethoscope around her neck; it bounced on her chest while she jogged.

The paramedics brought in patients that needed immediate treatment. Today was a man whose face was brutally beaten--the paramedic spoke in rapid fire of the patient's injuries and vitals. Male, Caucasian, approximately early 30s, 240 lbs. Suffered from blunt force trauma to the face with contusions to the left eye, stab wound to the left shoulder, bullet wounds to abdomen, ribs, and back of left thigh.

Looking at the man, Sheila was horrified at the sight--his face was a pallid color with bruises and cuts. Someone beat him, shot him, stabbed him and left him for dead. How the hell was he still alive? She wondered if there was internal bleeding or a concussion. So many possibilities and yet no answers just yet--all she had to do was get the assessments done and to the doctors.

He wore a uniform: it was blue with a white star in the center of the chest, red and white stripes going down the abdomen. It looked like antique military armor that resembled the American flag. She saw bullet holes and a stab wound in the armor. Grabbing a pair of scissors, she cut the armor off of him.

Sheila's eyes widened at the sight of the man--his body was equivalent to a Greek god: bronzed, muscular and chiseled to perfection. If she had been a new nurse, she would've blushed--but she was glad that she had the ability to conceal her emotions in order to remain professional. Pushing her thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand, there were purple bruises on his torso along with the wounds from bullets and a knife.

Working quickly with precision, she placed EKG leads on the man's chest. Her heart raced at the sensation of his hard muscles and soft skin. Shit! She had to stay focused and get the vitals for this man. Next she inserted an IV into his vein hopes to keep the man hydrated for now.

Looking through her glasses at the man's admission record, a man named Sam Wilson had identified the patient and gave as much information as he could. Most of it was blank.

Well that was just great! Not much to work with. Plus the man was unconscious and that would be difficult to find out if he were allergic to any medications and draw blood.

Name: Rogers, Steve

At least the man had a name. She had lost count of how many John Does had come through her ER. Next, she took his vitals: blood pressure, pulse, temperature. They were completely normal. After a beating like this, there was no way this man could have normal vitals. She would've expected low blood pressure and pulse from exsanguination. This man should've been bleeding like crazy and dying on her table from these injuries.

But he didn't.

The next step would be to remove the bullets from the wounds. That wasn't her department, but surgery would take care of him. She would check on him once he was released post-op. The doctors arrived to take him for MRI and next to surgery to remove the bullets.

While tending to other patients, she couldn't get past how this man was not dead. He had to have a punctured lung, arteries, concussion or traumatic brain injury.

She went to attend other patients, which usually took a few hours. Her next patient was a man who suffered from third degree burns. Name: Brock Rumlow, age 30s to 40s. He was given oxygen and bandaged and had to be monitored and transferred to the ICU.

She checked on Steve's wounds and saw most of them had healed after only being gone for about an hour. The contusion on his left eye appeared to have healed more than when he was first brought in. She was just about to look at X-rays and MRI scan...

"Nurse Donovan?" said a voice behind her.

Sheila whipped her head around, feeling her heart racing. This voice she didn't recognize. There was a tall, black man with an eye patch standing behind her. He was wearing dark clothes and a hood over his head as if he didn't want to be recognized. She swallowed, reaching for her personal alarm in her pocket with a shaking hand in hopes to get security in here.

"There's no need for that," said the man, holding his hand up. "I just want to talk to you about your patient."

"Sir, I am under obligation to protect the patient's right to privacy under HIPAA," Sheila said in a shaky voice.

"I got it. Let me get to the point. I'm Nick Fury with SHIELD," said the man. "This man--your patient--is one of my men."

"Who told you he was here?"

"Mr. Wilson informed me where Captain Rogers was," Nick said.

The nurse swallowed a bit, not really sure what this man was saying. She had so many questions but didn't know where to begin with this. Why was this patient so important to Nick Fury?

"C-Captain Rogers, sir?"

"Yes. His name is Captain Steve Rogers--also known as Captain America. This man here is under your care and..."

"Sir, I don't care who you are, but HIPAA prevents me from answering that. Now unless you are his...emergency contact or are here to claim him, I suggest you..." Sheila said boldly.

She was going to protect her patient no matter who this person was. They had the right to privacy. She fingered her personal alarm, ready to call security to get this man out of here.

"I am his emergency contact, Nurse Donovan," Nick interrupted.

Sheila felt her stomach flop around, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She was a bit embarrassed for her outburst. Nick had to admit he liked that she was willing to protect her patients.

"Oh..." she said, clearing her throat. "Um...well, I do have some questions regarding Captain Rogers' medical history, any allergies to medications and so forth."

"I have all you need here, Nurse Donovan," Nick said, holding a folder out. "I need it back when you're done."

Sheila took the folder that the man was holding with a trembling hand. She laid it carefully on the table with her laptop. She swallowed as her eyes scanned the documents over her glasses, clacking away at her keyboard to take whatever notes she needed--her eyes fell on Steve's date of birth, her ginger brows furrowed at the date.

July 4th 1918.

It couldn't be! Why...how? She had so many questions as of why this man was born in the early 1900s, but looked very young. He couldn't be any older than his early 30s or so. It was impossible. This had to be a clerical error or something. Just as she was about to ask a question, Nick Fury had cut her off.

"Am I to assume you'll be keeping this confidential?"

"Yes, sir," she assured.

"Good. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else I was here, Nurse Donovan. But please do inform Captain Rogers that I was here...if and when he wakes up."

Sheila nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. She was suspicious as of what was going on and why all the mysteriousness. She picked up the SHIELD documents, handing them back to Nick. She just had to know if anything in those documents were true. She was scared and confused.

"Mr. Fury, sir..." Sheila asked. "One question--regarding Captain Rogers...is his date of birth correct?"

"Indeed it is. You can ask him yourself when he wakes up," Nick said.

Sheila let out a drawn out exhale, watching Nick Fury leave the room. She was scared--she didn't know what was going on. She was trembling so much that she couldn't stop. What was the whole deal with her patient? Perhaps she should take a coffee break. Get some sleep tonight. After this whole ordeal, she needed it.

Resuming her work, she looked at the X-rays from earlier, noting the facial injuries. Upon observing the images, not one bone broken. She had seen injuries like this in victims of domestic violence: facial fractures—nasal bones, zygomatic bones. She found this rather strange. This man took one hell of a beating, yet how could he have not one broken bone? There was not even a single crack. She could see him suffering from a concussion or traumatic brain injury since most of the injuries were all to his face. She would ask the questions when he woke up.

There was a small groan coming from the bed. Sheila turned her head slowly to see the man was stirring. His swollen eye barely opened, but she could see they were clear blue.

"Captain Rogers," Sheila spoke. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Where am I?" he said groggily.

"Washington U Hospital, sir," Sheila said, looking over her glasses. "I'm Sheila. I'm your nurse for today. You just got out of surgery. You suffered from major blunt force trauma and were shot and stabbed. Want to tell me what happened?"

Steve Rogers, the famous Captain America, wondered how he ended up in the hospital. He remembered taking down Project Insight on the helicarrier with Natasha, Sam, Nick Fury and Maria Hill. Then he was fighting Bucky Barnes who he discovered was the Winter Soldier. He tried to help him remember who he was, but ended up getting beaten by his metal arm until he said that one thing he always told Steve when they were alive in the 1940s.

I'm with you til the end of the line.

Now here he was in the hospital with a nurse looking at him with scrutiny. Her fair skin was dotted with some freckles. Her red hair was tied up in a tight bun. Her face was framed by a pair of black rimmed rectangular glasses. Her green eyes looking over them. She wore navy blue scrubs (Steve was used to seeing nurses in white uniforms and white caps), a pair of sneakers, a stethoscope hanging from her neck with her name tag hanging on her breast pocket with a bunch of pens. SHEILA DONOVAN, RN, ER DEPT. How could he explain this? Was she ready to know any of this?

"I got into a fight," he said.

"Right," Sheila said skeptical.

Arching a ginger eyebrow, the nurse read the admission report she had received from the paramedics and glanced over her glasses at Steve.

"When you were brought in, you were beat up, shot, stabbed...and according to your friend, Sam Wilson: 'fell from over 100 feet from a helicarrier into the Potomac River.'" she summarized. "It's one hell of a miracle you're still alive."

"I wouldn't call it a miracle exactly," Steve said, sitting up slightly. "I'm a super soldier."

Sheila's eyebrows raised when Steve said this, blinking a few times. Was this man serious? She wondered if this had anything to do with that weird appearance of Nick Fury.

"A what now?" she asked.

"A super soldier. You probably have heard of me," he said. "I'm Captain America."

Sheila's mind drew a complete blank. She had only heard in passing about some group of heroes who had saved New York from aliens, but she only took it as some crazy conspiracy theory or a fun rumor. She was completely unaware about the Avengers' existence. She had been in self-isolation during her college years as a nurse--she vowed to never to become like her parents for never getting a higher education.

Although there was some crazy events that had happened here in DC while she was working--there was a shit load of car accidents that happened on the highway where patients were claiming a man with a metal arm and his army had caused it all. Then there was news of explosions over the Potomac River earlier today, which sounded strange.

"Who?" she asked furrowing a brow.

"Captain America," he repeated. "Haven't you heard of me?"

"Um...sorry, no," Sheila said.

At first, Steve was stunned to hear that someone had not heard of him. He had a lot of fans would excitedly would greet him and hound him--it was hard to go out in public that he'd have to wear a disguise just to get some peace. Now he had met a woman who had no clue who he was.

"Wow...um...that's a first, Nurse Donovan," he said. "I've never met anyone who hasn't heard of me."

"Well, blame it on my four years of studying at Michigan U," Sheila said with a shrug. "But I did hear some strange things that have occurred earlier this week."

"What'd you hear?"

"There were a multitude of car accidents that happened on the highway--claims about a metal armed man causing all that destruction," Sheila said. "Plus I heard about some kind of explosion over the Potomac River today."

Steve bit his lip as he suppressed his hurt when he realized that the Winter Soldier was none other than his best friend, Bucky Barnes, who he thought had died all those years ago. After waking up 70 years frozen in the ice, he was confused and alone. Now he met a woman who hadn't heard of him nor the Avengers. But how could he explain all of this?

"Yea. That stuff did happen," he confirmed. "It's pretty complicated, Miss Donovan. But if you want, there's a museum about me in the Smithsonian."

Sheila's ginger eyebrows furrowed at this. Was Steve trying to ask her out or something? Sure, Steve was a handsome man and she would've jumped at the chance if they were in a public place. But she had rules to follow.

"No offense, Captain Rogers, but..." she began.

"Steve," said the blond man.

"Steve..." Sheila corrected with a nod. "Look, I appreciate that you want to ask me out, but there's lines I don't cross when it comes to my patients."

Steve's eyes widened, wincing from the bruise on his eye. He was pretty awkward around women despite that many of them had flocked around him like cats to a bowl of cream. Plus with dealing with the 21st century, things were much different. He must've given her the wrong impression.

"No, no!" Steve said quickly. "That's not what I'm saying. I was letting you about the museum, that's all."

It was Sheila's turn to look embarrassed. There were patients that asked her out or flirted with her—but she declined.

"Oh. Um...I guess I'll make a trip there...if I have time," she said.

"Sounds like you don't get out much."

"Nope. I work very long and crazy hours," Sheila said. "I barely sleep. I have a caffeine addiction. Even on my days off, I sometimes get called in. Sometimes I don't sleep at home. I don't think I've slept in my bed for a while now."

"Don't you get vacation time?"

"I do," she said. "But I can't--it's expensive to live here. I have rent, utilities and groceries to pay. All in a day's work." For a beat, Sheila cleared her throat, wanting to finish up Steve's file. "Um...can you answer a couple of questions so I can fill out your forms?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said politely.

"OK, I need you to confirm your date of birth."

"July 4th 1918."

Sheila's clacking fingers froze. While his file had stated this, she thought it was a clerical error. Now the man himself had confirmed it. This had to be wrong. A man this good looking had to be at least in his early 30s. There had to be some mistake. She couldn't understand how someone born in the early 1900s looked young. He would have to be as old as her grandfather.

"W-what?" she asked, lowering her glasses. "Are you serious? How are you still alive? And how are you so young?"

"Like I said...I was injected with super soldier serum back in the 1940s," Steve answered.

"But if you were born in 1918 and were alive during the World War II era...how are you not an old man?"

"I was frozen in ice for 70 years," Steve said. "During the War, I had to bring down a plane that was carrying bombs that were targeting various cities. I crashed the plane in the Arctic."

This all sounded absurd. Sheila just stared. This sounded like something out of one of those science fiction books. This defied logic and science in every way, shape and form.

"If you were frozen in ice for 70 years, how'd you survive?"

"I'm not sure," Steve said shrugging his shoulders. "Some say that it was the serum or the extreme cold. It's hard to explain how I survived."

"So this...serum...put you in a form of suspended animation," Sheila summarized.

Now Sheila was interested in learning more about this serum: how it had transformed this man into some kind of soldier. It was mind blowing. It took her back to the days to when she was studying pre-nursing courses at college--what had this serum done to this man's anatomy and physiology?

"Pretty much, yea," Steve answered.

"So...can you grow old?" she asked.

There was a lot of questions Steve didn't know about the serum since the creator, Dr Abraham Erskine, was assassinated when Project Rebirth was completed. He would never have any of the answers. There were some things about the serum that he learned what it done to his body. After waking up after 70 years, he didn't understand how he remained young, but he didn't know if he would grow old either.

"I...um...I'm not sure," Steve said, rubbing his neck. "We'll have to see."

Clearing her throat, Sheila resumed her work and began to clack away at the keys to her laptop. She wanted to focus on getting the questions for her notes. She wanted to get as much done as soon as possible so this man could go home.

"Are you...um...allergic to anything--up to and including any medications, Steve?" she asked.

"No," he answered.

"Do you have any history of any illnesses? I mean any at all--pre or post serum speaking."

"Not that it really matters, but I had these in the past before I got the serum: asthma, scarlet fever, rheumatoid fever, chronic and frequent colds, high blood pressure, palpitations of heart, contact with someone with tuberculosis, easy fatigability, sinusitis, family history of diabetes, cancer, stroke or heart disease."

Sheila typed in the answers as Steve dictated them. She was pretty amazed that he knew all of these by heart. Most patients couldn't even remember half of them. She knew what most of them were--some were treatable now thanks to modern medicine and advanced science.

"So...you don't have them anymore?" the redhead asked.

"No, ma'am."

Sheila raised her eyebrows. Her mind was still bubbling with questions, but it wasn't a good time to ask all of this.

"Huh. Um...OK. Blood type?"

"Type O."

"OK. What is your occupation?"

"I'm a former Army captain. I currently work for the Avengers as Captain America."

"Right..." Sheila said, nodding as she clacked away.

Sheila continued her questions for Steve. It was too bad that she had something against dating patients, she seemed like a swell dame. The one thing he liked about her was she treated him like a person, not someone that was famous. Sheila moved a loose lock away form her face and removed her glasses.

"Um...the doctor will be here to talk to you shortly, Captain Rogers," she said. "And we'll see about getting you discharged as soon as possible."

"No need to be so formal, ma'am," he said. "You can call me Steve."

"Got it," she said. "You'll likely see me when you're discharged. If you need anything, just push this button."

She handed Steve a call light that was attached to the bed. She would let Sam Wilson know about his friend. She saw the man sitting in the waiting room, looking worried.

"Are you Sam Wilson?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Your friend is going to be alright," she said. "You can go see him now. He's in room 23."

"Thanks."