nextgenerationmarvel | Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.

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Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.

Marcelo Alencar da Silva had been in surgery for a few hours. He had been completely unaware of law enforcement locking down the city block his building was on. He had not been aware of much outside of trying to stay awake until some doctor like person told him it was okay to sleep.

The doctors had worked hard. As precisely as the sword had been impaled into their patient, they had to be just as precise to make sure he did not bleed out all over the operating table. Those doctors lived and worked in New York, home of the Avengers and Fantastic Four. Yet, they were never quite prepared for people stabbed with swords.

Even with a very close call, the Brazilian patient was rolled out to recovery. As the nurses and doctors monitored him, the surgeon went out to explain to his fiancee how things went. When the medical personnel were sure he was stable enough, he was sent to his own private room and allowed to have visitors.

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He tried hard to follow along with what she was saying. Her hand felt soft and warm. Which was better than the painful throbbing in his chest. He tried to make his fingers close around her hand. He was almost pleased they obeyed.

"I'm glad to see you, too. Because you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen."

"Even though I'm a complete mess?" Stephanie responded, unable not to laugh. "What if I told you that I'm actually your fiancee? Stephanie, if you can't remember the name." She held up the engagement ring she wore on her other hand, and looked over at his other hand meaningfully.

"I'm silly and non-traditional and we both ended up having one."

"I'm not looking all that great either," he commented with a soft croak. His mouth flopped open in surprise at the announcement of who she was. It totally distracted him from the significant look at his hand.

"No way. My fiancee? What did I do? Get you pregnant?"

"You said yes when I proposed to you." Stephanie replied, matter of factly before smirking. "And well, you look very, very good for a man who just had a sword taken out of him."

It wasn't something she really wanted to linger on, though. "We've been together for well over two years."

His brow furrowed as he took this in. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Then he finally noticed the 'complete mess' she had been referring to. He frowned at the visible bruises.

"Did you stick the sword in me? Because if I did that..." He tried to point with one hand, but it was held by Stephanie. His other hand eventually managed to point at her bruises. Albeit a little shakily.

"...I deserved it."

She shook her head. "No. We were attacked by someone else. That's why you're here." She looked down for a moment and closed her eyes. She wished herself that she could have forgotten.

"Can we not talk about it right now?" Because she didn't feel like crying for anything other than sheer relief right now.

"Uhh, okay." He licked his very dry feeling lips. He was foggy on the details, but he did not want to make the hot babe who was going to marry him for some reason feel bad.

"You're still total eye-candy." He hoped that made her feel better.

"Well, that's good to know, bruises and all." Stephanie couldn't help but laugh slightly, even though she had to almost immediately flick away a few tears. "I'd give you more eye candy, but they probably have video cameras watching everything we do. And I'd rather not give anyone else a show."

"The good news is that you'll be out of here in maybe as little as a week or two, and back to work in maybe a month." She gave his hand a little squeeze.

"Bruises go away. You gotta stay forever. I've been told there's rings and things." He shifted to try to sit up. He winced when it felt like a devil stuck a pitchfork into his sternum.

"Can you help me scoot over a bit? Or do I need one of those beefy nurses with hairy arms?"

"Oh believe me, I fully intend to." She smiled slightly, before she saw him wince from moving.

And then she did something that probably looked strange to him. She stomped the floor, once twice, quite hard.

"I can help you. Do you want to sit up or just move over." She moved to get into position to help him move. While she wasn't beefy or hairy-armed, she felt more than strong enough to get the job done.

He wrinkled his nose in confusion when she stomped on the floor. He tried to peer at the floor as much as his position would allow him.

"Spider or is the floor sticky?" It took him a moment to realize she was waiting for his input. He blinked at her.

"I want to be more toward the edge, and you don't have as much hair on your arms as you should..."

"Something much odder than that, though I would gladly stomp any spider out of existence." Stephanie moved slightly so he could be lifted more or less evenly and moved him over, with little apparent difficulty- and any of that caused by leverage issues rather than weight.

"I'm a lot stronger than I look." Stephanie replied offhandedly.

"Daaaaaamn," was his vocel only comment about that feat of strength. His eyes did widen a little at how easily she shuffled him over.

He fiddled with the tubes and wires on the side of the bed just cleared. All he did for a moment was wiggle them around. He sighed and patted the empty space. "Come over here. You need a cuddle. Or I do. One of us does."

Then he got distracted by the tip of his finger glowing red.

Stephanie probably didn't intend to slink over to the bed with catlike grace, it was just the way she moved naturally. She lay down next to him, draping an arm over him carefully. She noticed him looking at his finger.

"For your pulse. You'll be good friends with all kinds of wonderful medical technology for the forseeable future." Stephanie couldn't help but smile slightly. "And only the best for you, anything money can buy."

He turned his finger so it glowed at Stephanie. "They turned me into E.T."

Then he giggled slightly. He grin was a bit dopey as he settled in to having Stephanie beside him.

"You're a good fiancee. Beautiful, cuddly... waaait. You're not speaking Portuguese." It hadn't dawned on him he was understanding everything she was saying in English. Just that it sounded funny.

"No." Stephanie replied with a faint smile. "I've been speaking English the whole time. I probably should have said something about you actually being in America before.

It's good that I've picked up a fair amount of Portuguese since meeting you." Though it's similiarity to Spanish certainly helped in that regard.

"Probably all the cusswords. We have a lot of those in Brazil." His brow furrowed as he concentrated.

"You make me feel better," he said slowly and deliberately in English. "Ha! I do English good."

"Yes, you do have a great many, very creative cusswords in Brazil." She smirked faintly.

"I'm glad I make you feel better." Stephanie replied, before softly kissing him. And then she couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes! You do English good."

He tried to blink some of the fog in his mind away. Regular blinks weren't helping, so he blinked harder.

"I probably do it gooderer when I'm not doped up. Or dopey." He peered at Stephanie lying beside him. "Is your last name Snow White?"

"Shaw. My last name is Shaw." She would have been tempted to poke him or tickle him for saying something that silly in another time, but he was clearly not in the shape to be manhandled.

"I'm not even really fair." Well, compared to the average American white person, anyway. She certainly did look a lot fairer than he did. "And yes, your English skills are much better when you're being given huge amounts of painkillers and sedatives."

"As in... you Shaw is pretty?" Sometimes they spoke funny in America. Marcelo would freely admit it in his drug-hazed state. He found it funny himself and giggled slightly until that hurt.

"Uhn. Good thing I have a nice, warm Stephanie at my side. That coulda hurt more." He was getting some manual dexterity back. He was managing to stroke her soft, silky hair without getting his fingers tangled in it.

"You're very fortunate I'm not actually Southern, you awful, awful man." She smirked and resisted the urge to nudge or poke him. He wasn't really up to that.

"Mmm, a good thing indeed." That was certainly true enough, she was always nice and warm. Sometimes more than just warm. "You're doing better with your hands."

"I'm terrible. And I'm loopy. And I think I have a tubes in places I don't wanna look." He closed his eyes and enjoyed Stephanie laying with him.

He kept stroking her hair. It made him feel better at least. "Hands are important. It's hard to feel you up later without them."

"You are terribly loopy, yes. And ... I'm quite certain that you do. Hopefully they'll take that out soon." Stephanie snuggled up a little closer to him, enjoying just being with him.

"They're very important. And you had best take good care of those hands." She closed her eyes.

"I'm actually feeling sleepy."

"Being able to pee on my own would be nice. Not being in pain when you excite me would be a very nice bonus." He was too strung out from anesthesia to get excited at the moment. Though he was content to stroke her hair. He liked the feeling of those soft strands across his fingertips.

Though he did try to touch her nose with his glowing red fingertip. "Boop. The magical you can sleep right here touch."

He yawned a little. "I'll join you. Until a nurse chases me out of the bed. My shapely butt hanging in the breeze and all."

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Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.

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