The Mimic

110

Y/n was right. It was hell.

Wanda was long gone. She'd taken out the men that were trying to attack her, and had left to help the rest of the team. Rumlow's men had tried to escape into a busy market nearby, which just caused more risks for the mission. At least one hundred civilians all packed into a small area. What could go wrong? It wasn't like there were guns and bioweapons being actively used. That was why Wanda had to leave y/n on her own. She had to help the team prevent any injury to the public. A whole building had already been taken out, they couldn't risk any further damage. 

So, y/n was left on her own. Alone, in pain, and angry.

She was leant against a pillar, both hands held up in the air as she controlled the cloud of poisonous gas above. Now that she wasn't mimicking super soldier strength, everything hurt. Her body finally had time to react to the crash, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. Her hands felt as if they had been torn to pieces, but the copious amounts of dirt caking her skin seemed to cover up any sign of injury. Her ribs felt as if she'd been hit over and over again with a metal bat, and her throat stung from the heavy intake of dust. Every breath felt as if there were a thousand tiny daggers cutting her up from the inside-out. The red staining on her jeans let y/n know that her knees were in bad shape, and her right ankle felt as if it had been hit with a sledgehammer. There wasn't an area on her body that didn't hurt. Now, if she'd been wearing her mission suit, she'd definitely still be injured, but not as bad as this. Stark's designs were almost always some sort of shock-proof. Civilian clothes weren't. Y/n had taken the full force of that crash. She should've been in an ambulance.

But, y/n had no choice but to deal with it. There were no medical teams around, no ambulances, and no Bruce. She had to deal with the pain until they got back to the compound. They had a mission to do, and stopping a bioweapon was far more important than a few cuts and some possibly broken bones. Or at least that was the Avengers mentality - if you're not dead, walk it off. 

The pillar was the only keeping her on her feet. Y/n had no other choice but to lean all of her weight onto it, if she didn't she'd be on the floor in seconds. She took slow breaths in attempt to fight through the pain, but every breath just seemed to make it worse. All y/n wanted was to sit or lay down somewhere. She'd been out in the city with Bucky for two days straight, there'd been barely any rest time. She had even debated sitting down on the ground, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn't. What would the team say if they saw her sat on the ground? What if they needed her? What if some of Rumlow's team tried to attack her? She'd leave herself even more vulnerable than she already was. 

However, the pain wasn't the only thing causing y/n to struggle.

Her thoughts were destroying her. The anger, the frustration, everything. Y/n's nightmares had already been getting worse and worse, and the resurgence of her nickname just seemed to be the cherry on top. She had failed to kill Rumlow, and yet she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. In one half, all she could hear was the man in suit scolding her for failing a mission, but the other half was praising her. It helped to prove that y/n wasn't a killer anymore. Even though her nightmares told a different story. It was all a mess. A complete turmoil that she couldn't solve on her own. But of course she hadn't told anyone about her nightmares getting worse. Y/n had just opted for the route of ignorance instead. Maybe if she ignored the horrible thoughts in her mind, they'd go away. So she stayed silent over it all, painted a smile and pretended as if everything was fine.

But everything was far from fine. And the thin thread keeping y/n together suddenly seemed to snap.

A horrible, sharp pain suddenly came over y/n's head. Almost as if something had exploded. The pressure forced upon her head was strong and just seemed to be getting worse by the second. A warm, thick liquid dripped over her lips and down her chin at an aggressive rate. Her nose was bleeding. It hadn't bled like that since Wakanda. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

The pain in her head just seemed to be getting worse and worse. It was nothing like anything she'd felt before. Excruciating and unbearable. It made the rest of the pain in her body seem like nothing. 

Y/n cried out at the sudden explosion in her mind, both hands shooting down to hold her head. She'd completely let go of Wanda's powers, but she didn't care. The pain in her head was unbearable. Her vision slowly begun to blur, objects beginning to mix into a single colourful blob, and no amount of blinking seemed to clear it up. Every sound except her breathing begun to fade into the background. Almost every single sense had been destroyed, and didn't even know why. All she knew was that she couldn't handle this pain for much longer.

She had to find the team.

Y/n forced herself off of the pillar, blinking heavily as she struggled to see where she was going. Blood was still steadily dripping from her nose, leaving a nice trail on the ground. She stumbled and tripped over rubble with every step, yet she continued to walk. She had to. Y/n had to keep moving. She had to get help. She'd never felt something as excruciating as this before, and it was terrifying. 

Something was really really wrong.