Piece By Piece

Part 13

My alarm woke me up, and I complied. I dressed myself in workout gear robotically, stripping the emotion out of my body. It was the easiest way to get through the day. My back was aching from my sleep on the floor, but I ignored it. I went to the kitchen, ignoring everyone sitting there at the table and made myself a smoothie. As I added the ingredients I heard their conversations still. I rolled my eyes, but said nothing.

"Did something happen last night?" I recognized Banner's voice. I replied without turning around or making eye contact.

"No, why?"

"Well you've slept pretty quietly this last month and then last night we heard-"

"I thought I saw a spider. Let it go." I was met with silence. Good. I turned the blender and drowned out any sounds coming from the table. I let the blender run much longer than it needed to, just to make it obvious that I was ignoring everyone. When I finally turned it off, I heard nothing. Lovely. I poured it into my bottle and left to the gym. Popping two Tylenols before I got on the treadmill, I started it up and selected my preset controls from months ago. I began moving up to speed until my legs were moving at a running pace.

I must have run for a while, because when I finally stepped off, my bullet wound was screaming, yet I still ignore it. I went to the punching bag and wrapped my hands methodically. They way Pietro used to wrap them for me. Once I finished wrapping, I began to just absolutely lay into the bag, throwing blow after blow, feeding my fists with my pent up anger at my situation. The door behind me opens and someone walks in, but I refuse to turn my head to look. I continue to beat the hell out of the bag, and jump when a large hand reaches out and clamps down on my wrist. I rip my arm away and turn to cuss out whoever touched me, when I'm met by an angry Barnes.

"You're being really immature about this whole situation, Maximoff," he snaps, glaring at me with is blue eyes. I glare right back.

"I'm not being immature, I'm doing what's best for me." He scoffs.

"As usual," he spits at me. My eyebrows jump up at this. I lift my shirt up to show the scar where the bullet hit me.

"Is this doing what's best for me? Fuck you, Barnes," he shakes his head and chuckles.

"God Y/n, you do one thing that's helpful and all of a sudden you think that everyone should be grovelling at your feet for forgiveness. Was letting your brother die because you pussied out best for you? Yea. Was completely bailing on all the missions for the last year best for you? Yup. That scar is the best thing you've ever done for anyone in your life, and knowing you, it's the last decent thing you'll do. Just go back to slutting around and quit making everyone around you feel like shit," he finishes. I look at him blankly. Half way through his little tantrum I shut down. I don't even think I mentally registered half of what he said. I didn't say anything, I just went back to my bag. I couldn't look at him.

The one person who had been kind to me, or so I thought, throwing my biggest mistake in my face. I couldn't believe my ears. I felt his presence remain in the room for an extended period of time while I continued with my workout. After a few minutes of him standing there, I began to feel suffocated in the room, so I grabbed my water bottle and went to my room. I was so done with everyone here.

I shut my door behind me and leaned against it trying to breathe. I went to my closet and pulled out a joint from my top shelf basket. I grabbed the lighter from the drawer and went to my bathroom. I shut the door and turned on the fan before I reached under my sink and pulled out the bottle of vodka I kept there. I sunk down the wall and tilted my head back.

-TW: SH-

Here I was again. Was I proud of myself? No. But I wasn't disappointed in myself either. If this is how I get through the day, so be it. I took another swig from the bottle, cringing at the chemical taste. The even pattern of fresh red rested on top of layers of old scars, from the last months. I grabbed my phone from the counter and played some old music, and eventually the burning sensation on my thighs subsided and I fell asleep sitting on my bathroom floor. What a life.

-Time jump: two weeks later- I sat in the conference room with Steve and Bucky, waiting for someone to speak.

"You two have a mission, together." Steve finally spoke. I ripped my eyes from the wood grain of the table toward his blonde head.

"No." He frowned.

"You can't sit this one out Y/n. We would send Wanda, but she said she won't go. It's one of the bases where you two were-"

"Three, Steve. There were three of them." Barnes cuts him off and I glare at him. Steve looks at me again.

"Where you and your siblings were held and worked on." I shook my head again. I won't go back. I can't.

"Rogers, I said no. It's too much. Wanda didn't go through half of what I went through there, tell her she has no choice. I'm not going."

"I'm telling you. This is an order, Y/n, don't test it." I laugh incredulously, leaning toward him, elbows on the table.

"Let me be clear, Captain. If I go on this mission, I will freeze, like I did in Sokovia, and your little buddy will die. Don't test it." I say lowly, tossing his words back it him."

"Let me be clear, Y/n, if you don't go on this mission, you'll be kicked off the avengers. Fury's on board, most of the team is on board, I'm on board. So either you go on this mission, or you pack your bags," he says, with authority in his tone.

"When we do this mission, and both of us die, or worse, are taken back into Hydra custody, it's on you and the rest of this team. I hope you're prepared for the guilt that comes with letting someone close to you die, Rogers. It's a real bitch."