Disclaimer: I don't own anything. You can thank Marvel/Stan Lee/Disney/etc. for all the source material.

When the stranger came ambling out of the brush, Holly Martin didn't know what to think. Indeed, that entire day had been something so bizarre, so chaotic, that the appearance of the fellow did not make her wonder.

Initially she'd thought he'd been a fellow witness to the events. She probably would've commiserated with him, were it not for the cold, dead look in his eyes.

She could only stand and gape, much like she had for the past several minutes.

It was her day off, and she had wanted to enjoy it. She had been on a walk in the park, one of those tiny little waysides that ran along the Potomac. She'd chosen to follow along Mt. Vernon Trail, one that she'd walked along dozens of times before, which allowed the illusion of woods though one could still easily see the government buildings and the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge along the opposite bank. It was something she'd gotten used to, with nothing very unusual apart from the occasional encounter with another person along the path. Pretty standard, really. When what appeared to be aircraft carriers ascended into the sky this morning, she was transfixed by the hovering machinery.

Those…things…rose up from the river, huge hovering monsters that could've crushed her neighborhood if they'd been dropped down there, and the morning warped into this weird amalgamation of science fiction and fantasy. Perhaps it shouldn't have made so much of an impact; Holly did hear about the attack on New York, after all. But that hadn't happened in her city, it didn't affect her life. The rumors spoke of aliens tearing up much of Manhattan, the Avengers fighting them off, and supposedly a launched nuke that had been thrown through a portal, but those were the basics. It was secondhand information, and it seemed too far away to really touch her.

Now she had seen something of that caliber, that disrupted her worldview and brought the fantastical much closer to home and to herself.

And then things started to go horribly wrong, at least with the machines. When the minor explosions started, she reacted the only way she could think of: she pressed herself behind a tree to watch the mayhem unfold, with the leafy canopy above as her only protection. Crouching low against the trunk, she winced and forced herself to watch, too stunned to move from her hiding spot. Glass shattered and metal pieces jettisoned from the wreckage. The carriers were launching missiles and taking pot shots at each other, malfunctioning harshly. The river was becoming little more than a glorified dump.

'What in God's name is going on?' Holly wondered over and over again, instinctively ducking as another boom ripped through the air and one carrier nosedived.

In the midst of that chaos, though, she thought she spied people moving within the machines. She couldn't be sure, since there was no clear view that she could have of the insides. But there a shadow seemed to move, and something burst through the glass on the other side…it looked like a man with wings, but at that point she shook her head violently and thought the horror of the situation was beginning to get to her brain and make her hallucinate.

It seemed to go on for hours, but it could have only been a matter of minutes. Time had stopped existing, and she felt she had to watch the destruction. It wasn't safe to stay, and it wasn't safe to leave. She watched in terror as one of the metal beasts tore into the Triskelion (the SHIELD building: it was like the CIA, but sneakier, as far as she knew). Her jaw dropped as more debris fell into the river.

Holly silently prayed that anyone who had been in the building would be okay. She hoped that she wasn't watching dead bodies fall into the water as opposed to flaming machinery.

Once the last carrier had crashed and rested on the earth, once the blasts and booms had been silenced, she rose from her spot, blindly slipping down the trail and trying to comprehend what in the world had just occurred.

That was about the moment the man appeared, his lanky hair matting his face and his arm…shining, in the weak sunlight coming through the trees. She made no remark upon it at the time, merely just stared at him in surprise and alarm. His stiff posture intimidated her, made her insides coil in fright.

And his freezing eyes stared back at her, unnervingly. Though his glance was cold, his face was twisted in confusion, unconsciously mirroring her own expression. The stand-off lasted for seconds, but it felt like minutes to her.

Finally, his gruff voice cut the air, jerking a thumb backwards.

"Get help."

Abruptly, he turned on his heel and darted off through the trees, disappearing before she even had a chance to question him. Pursuing him was futile; she understood that even as she took a few steps towards his flight path. He was gone, and had left her to deal with whatever it was that he had discarded. Her feet sunk into the marshy ground as she plowed through the brush, stomach clenching in fear as she obeyed the stranger's order. This wouldn't be good, she knew that much.

When she broke through to the riverbank, she gasped loudly, and nearly swore in shock.

A body was laying there, a man, and he looked like he was barely breathing.

'"Oh my God, oh my God," she muttered, shivering hard at the sight. Tripping over her own feet, she stumbled forward, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she knelt by the man. Her voice failed to wake him as she called out, his face remaining impassive. The numerous cuts and scrapes flitted in and out of her vision as she struggled to maintain composure. Recognition hit her then, and that time she swore under her breath. Numbly her fingers dialed the necessary numbers, and after a short pause, a there was a calm response.

"911, do you have an emergency?"

"Yeah, I'm with this guy, he's unconscious and beaten up really bad…I think it's Captain America."

It had to be; given the media attention surrounding the Avengers over the last two years, it would've been ridiculous to imagine anyone else would willingly wear a star-spangled uniform besides him. Granted, he was banged up and waterlogged, but it was undoubtedly the great American hero.

"What's your name?"

She blinked; what did her name matter? "Holly. Holly Martin."

"Okay, Holly. Where are you and the injured party?"

Trying to wrestle down her fear and irritation, she began to rattle off directions to the dispatcher, glancing around every few seconds in the hopes that an ambulance would just magically appear that moment. In the midst of assuring them that no, she wasn't injured and no, there was nobody else around them, she found herself breathing heavily. Thoughtlessly, she gently prodded the fallen hero on the arm, to make sure he really was unconscious and couldn't answer the questions put forth himself. When the person on the other end of the line finally told her that help would be coming shortly, she felt a surge of relief rip through her body.

"Thank you, thank you. Oh God, oh God..."

"Miss Martin, don't panic. Just remain calm, and stay where you are. An ambulance is coming."

Her thumb swiped the "end call" button, and she laid a hand gingerly over the captain's hand, her fingers curling around his in a (hopefully, she thought) comforting fashion.

"Okay, okay. If you can hear me, help's coming. Help is coming, I'm not going anywhere," she rambled, watching his face to see if he was rousing. Perhaps his eyelids twitched, but at the time she wasn't sure. Nonetheless, he remained unconscious, and she sighed. "It'll be okay. You'll be okay."

She continued holding his hand, too terrified to do anymore than that. She pondered trying to move him, but squashed the idea in case he'd broken his neck or something. The whines of sirens in the distance bolstered her, allowing her to croon every half minute or so that the captain would be alright. She kept her eyes on him, or the riverbank, or on her knees as she knelt beside him, thinking that if she looked out at the actual destruction on the water she would have a full-blown panic attack.

Shouts broke through her mindless mantra, and made her nearly cry in joy.

"They're here, Captain, they're here."

Lights flashed as the ambulance was parked, the EMTs darting swiftly through the thicket to assess the patient. If they were stunned about the patient's identity, they hid their feelings remarkably well. Stabilizing his neck and body, they talked over her head, using medical terms she didn't understand. She was just grateful they were there, and that someone could help the captain.

Only when the finally loaded him onto the gurney and began hauling him away was she aware that his grip had tightened around her fingers. Holly's arm was tugged, and she was dragged to her feet to follow them.

"You'll have to let him go, Miss," the EMT nearest to her, a tall woman with graying hair, commented when they noticed her tagging along.

"I did," she replied, nodding down to indicate how her hand was relaxed, but his was holding on tightly. On some level, he knew someone was there and must not have wanted to lose that brief comfort she'd offered.

The other EMT shook his head. "We really don't have time to debate this. We have to get moving."

His partner agreed, and jerked her head towards the truck. "You're coming with us, then."

Holly didn't protest; there was no point, really. She climbed into the back with her comatose companion, dully noting that she was glad that she at least had her car keys and wallet with her, so no one could steal her car or anything in it while she was gone. Her mind wandered onto another thought, and it took over her concentration while she maneuvered herself along the gurney and the vehicle roared to life. Taking out her phone again, she pulled up the search bar in her internet browser as one the technicians began to tend to some of the minor wounds on his face. She began to feel haggard, the adrenaline of the afternoon draining out of her as she swiped letters with her free hand. After a few moments, the search engine spit out the result she wanted, and she breathed deeply again.

"Okay...Steve Rogers, it's going to be alright," Holly whispered, feeling a bit stupid for not thinking to look up his proper name before that moment. She was aware as anyone else was of the Avengers, but beyond Tony Stark (because, to be honest, everyone and their mother knew who Tony Stark was) she hadn't remembered their names. For the present, though, she brushed aside her feelings of inadequacy and ran her thumb along his gloved knuckles. It had to be better than calling him by his title, she figured. "Almost there, Steve."

The ride to the hospital was a blur, with them arriving at an emergency ward that had descended into anarchy. Several people had been rushed in, rescued from the damaged Triskelion and in varying degrees of injury. She jogged to keep up as they pushed Steve's gurney along the halls, the staff bellowing for other to make room as they passed.

As they brought him into an operating room that was not overrun as of yet, a doctor appeared at her side. He pressed his palm against Holly's shoulder. He had a kind face, laugh lines cutting into his forehead and his dark eyes filling with compassion. He began to draw her away as they began to cut off his clothing and attach apparatus to his body. "Miss, we're going to have to ask you to leave the room, please. We'll take care of him from here."

"Yes, I know, but-" Holly was cut off from the sudden pain ripping into her fingers. Steve's grasp had become incredibly hard, and Holly groaned loudly.

"Heart rate's climbing, doctor," one of the nurses chimed in, reading the meter and twitching up an eyebrow in surprise. The doctor looked at it quizzically, then back to the young woman. Clearly something was going on in the patient's mind that was allowing him to hang on so tightly, but it was imperative to separate the pair so they could treat the man. Mutely, his eyes appealed to Holly, telegraphing the urgency of compliance. Shrugging her shoulders, she moved a little closer to the gurney again, laying her other hand on his elbow and keeping her gaze locked on his face.

"I'll be here, Steve. I'm not going anywhere," she said, thinking that she must have sounded crazy talking to him. She tried to be soothing, but she felt silly as she kept speaking. "Okay? I'll be here. Please let go."

Slowly, hesitantly, he relaxed his clutch on her, the beeping monitor calming down as well. She bit her lip, moving out of the way and giving the doctors room to save his life. And true to her word, Holly left the room, but she did not leave the hospital. She did not leave him. A few policemen detained her in the corridor, getting a statement from her detailing exactly what she had seen and how she'd come to Steve's rescue. She told them the truth, and was shortly thereafter allowed to depart.

She found a waiting area, the couches and chairs littered with concerned family members and friends from all over the city. Unable to find a seat, she sat down on the floor in an adjacent corridor, and waited quietly. She drew up her knees, curling her arms around and resting her forehead against them. The events of the day kept circling in her mind, flitting from the carriers to the strange man and Captain America, and back. Now that she was able to process it, able to really understand what had happened, she felt so confused and afraid.

The fact that she'd been at the scene of the gigantic accident, and that had things gone a little differently she could've been dead from the falling debris, did not escape her notice. Tears seeped out of her eyes, but she did not wail. Her jaw was set as a headache began coming on. What if the stranger came to find her? What if Steve didn't make it? What, in the name of all that was holy, were those things and why were they allowed to exist in the first place? It all baffled her, and she could not come up with a reasonable answer to any of the queries posed.

The leftover dirt smeared on her face, but she didn't care all that much. There was no question of departing to tidy herself up. Her mind was made up; she wouldn't leave until she was told that Captain America...Steve...was going to be alright. He had to be alright. He just had to.

"Weirdest day ever," she muttered to herself, feeling as though truer words had never been spoken.

Author's note: I will let you know right now...this story terrifies me. Why? Because Captain America/Steve Rogers is my absolute favorite superhero. And I am PETRIFIED of screwing around with his character or with the Marvel universe. I mean that, too. I really don't want to wreck this fandom for anyone with my writing this. That being said, this is one of those stories that will not leave me alone until I write it out. When I first watched the movie in theaters, the scene where it cuts from Steve being dragged out of the river by Bucky to Steve being in the hospital jarred me. And left it open for my mind to play around with possibilities. Thus, this puppy was born.

I don't have a clue how long this is going to be, and I will be writing it in tandem with another ongoing story (in a completely different fandom, holy crap), but I wanted to write something. So here we are. Also, this story is UNBETA'ED. This is mostly due to my personal schedule being a little different from others', and therefore harder to coalesce with someone else's. As such, I do proofread, edit, and restructure my own writing. I try my best, but I am not perfect.

Love it, hate it, any pointers you want to give me? Let me know in a review. Thanks.