ＢＲＯＫＥＮ

"ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ"

You slept for days. Yet each day you were more tired than the last.

The nurse checked on you when you were awake, which was very little. Still no one had come to visit you, and you hadn't mentioned them to the nurse - you knew they must be busy.

Each day you were getting better, the arm was nearly fully healed, your leg too - though it would take a couple more weeks.

You hadn't left your bed, the most you'd done was sit up. You were weak from lack of food, and just constantly tired. The nurse said it was your brain helping you recover.

                                       ****

It was a Wednesday night, when you were awake, when a new doctor came in to your hospital room.

He was tall, had granite grey hair, and looked old. He wore round glasses that framed his tired and red eyes. You couldn't look at his eyes too long, they made you feel uneasy. A bit sick.

He checked the various monitors around the room, and took some tests. He checked your eyes with a torch that almost blinded you, checked inside your ears. He even assessed your muscle strength, in your broken limbs and also in your normal ones. You spent an hour getting poked and prodded, the only noise from the doctor being grunts and "hm's".

He took your cannula out of your arm, to no explanation.

He then left with what you were assuming as being the results of his testing on a clipboard, and you saw him talk closely with another doctor in the hallway through the blinds on the windows in your room.

You thought doctors were more talkative.
You thought they had to be talkative.

He didn't even tell you what he was doing.

But you wanted to recover, you could only think he was doing his job the best he could and you needed to let them help you, so you could get back to the avengers.
So you could see your family again.
Because god, you wanted to;

you really did miss them.

                                       ****

You didn't really feel like sleeping tonight, oddly. So you thought to test your powers, you hadn't remembered to check after your fall, you'd been so caught up in the emotional aftermath.

You looked down at your right, uncasted hand. And turned it over so your palm was facing up. When you were sure everything was ready you began the all too familiar method of focusing your mind.

You thought of the fire, the water, the wind, and the dust. Thought of them bubbling up inside you. You pictured them in your head, as clear as day: you saw how they moved, what they looked like, what they felt like in your hand. When you were sure your mind was focused you waited. And waited. And....

waited.

Normally it wouldn't take this long.
You opened your eyes and checked your hand. Nothing.

You clenched and unclenched your fist and started again. You cleared your mind and thought of the fire, the water, the wind, and the dust. You pictured them again - saw how they moved, how they felt. You were waiting for the surge of power that usually builded in you before you could unleash it. But weirdly,

nothing came.

You were worried, but what did you expect, you'd had concussion, that must've affected your brain. You sighed and left it alone- for now. You wished Tony or Bruce were here to help you understand what was happening to you. You thought of them coming to visit you, when they weren't busy anymore, but the more you did the more impossible it seemed.