Baby Barton

Chapter 60 Chloe Barton.

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Another day, another fight, another stolen vehicle.
You grip the steering wheel so hard it strains your forearms, foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor you race the car onto the highway, slowing to the pace of the rest of the traffic so as not to draw attention to yourselves.
Sam is in the back with Nat working to stop the bleeding and keep her stable until you get where you are going...
Where are you going?
Steve sits in the passenger seat next to you, staring out the window into the nothingness, face chalk white, his perfectly chiseled jaw clenched.
You don't know what to say, what to feel.
You need to ask him, but in this moment you are scared, of him? Or for him?
Uncertainty is always something you've struggled with.
The silence in the car is broken by Natasha's pained groans and growls as Sam digs his fingers into her shoulder feeling for the bullet lodged in there. Thank fuck for his military training.
He leans in twisting his hand awkwardly around fishing in the wound, "good thing is, its in one piece. If I could...just get...shit!" He rips part of his tshirt and stuffs it into the hole, "she needs a shit tonne of anti biotics and if I had tweezers or something to grab on I could get it out!" He catches your gaze in the rear view.
Your eyes widen, "don't look at me! Do I look like someone who carries a mani pedi kit where ever I go?" You slam your hands on the steering wheel in frustration.
Steve doesn't flinch, his eyes flit from the side view mirror to the windshield as he continues to stare coldly out of it.
Sam leans forward, "I hate to push you cap, but where can we go? She needs assistance." He tilts his head towards Nat who is dozing wearily in the back seat.
You shrug your shoulders at Sam exasperated with silence.
Steves gone catatonic, Nat's bleeding out and Sam's well... you don't really know Sam. Someone has to take charge.
Fuck.
"I know a place we can lay low, but I need a burner phone." You hands shakily turning the wheel as you take the sharp exit off the interstate.
Sam splutters a sigh of relief, leaning back whilst checking Nat's pulse, you study his expression to see if he looks worried or...
His lips purse but he bobs his head, shes stable for now.
You pull into the parking lot of a quiet little gas station, "Sam...go..." you tilt your head towards the store.
"Uhh...why me?" He looks around surprised.
You chuckle sarcastically, "well because she has a hole in her shoulder and is currently bleeding out all
over the back seat, I'm the sister of an Avenger, and now I am one," you tighten your pony tail in the mirror, "and don't even get me started on him." You throw your thumb in Steves direction as his cold stare permeates around his silence.
"And that leaves me, the nobody?" He sighs.
The corners of your mouth turns up, "if the bird suit fits, now hurry up. We need a burner, and whatever else you can think of. OH get me a hot pocket...no...just a bag of chips and a red bull."
Sam makes his way into the store, trying his best to blend in, he takes his tshirt off and tosses it into the trash can, exposing his rich muscular body.
Wow.

You turn to look at Steve.
Should you take this opportunity to try and get him talking?
No.
Yes!
Damn it!
"Steve?" You touch his hand gently, his knuckles are white as he grips his shield.
"Steve?"
He stares blankly ahead.
You give the top of his arm a little shove.
It barely moves him.
Fucking hell!
"Steven Grant Rogers! That is enough! You talk to me dammit." Hissing, your eyes wide with concern and frustration.
His head snaps round, when his eyes meet yours they begin to fill, "what?"
"What happened back there?" You try to keep your voice soothing, but it begins to tremble.
Steves eyes never falter he continues to look at you, tears slowly falling down his cheeks.
He doesn't speak.
You reach over and wipe his face with your thumb, washing away some of the evidence of the days horrors.
You smooth his blonde hair over to one side exposing a cut on his forehead, licking your thumb you wipe away the blood, its already begun to heal.
He raises his hand taking hold of yours bringing it to his cheek.
"Okay..." you reassure him, "we can talk when you're ready."

***

"I'm so so so sorry to do this Laura, but we need help." You plead down the cell.
"Just get here as soon as you can." The line goes dead.
You snap the phone in half on your knee and toss it out of the window.

Steve still hasn't spoken a single word.