There's Worse Ways To Go

Six

I follow her into the kitchen, walking stiffly. As I struggle to sit on a stool she goes behind the counter, pulling out bread and cheese and butter. She sets a pan on the stove.

"Ah, a classic," I wince, settling into the chair.

"My favorite to make after whooping someone's ass."

"Ouch, way to kick me while I'm down."

She smiles at me and I smile back as she goes about preparing the sandwiches.

"Sup, ladies," Bucky says, sauntering into the kitchen. He hops up onto the counter, snagging an apple from the fruit basket. "Good sparring session?"

"Always," Nat says.

"Yeah, so much fun."

"Why are you sitting like that?" Buck asks.

I try to smooth myself out from my rigid position but I can't move my body without it screaming at me.

"I cracked a few of her ribs when we were fighting. Oh, that reminds me. Buck can you watch these," Nat asks.

Buck holds the apple in his mouth and gets off the counter. "Only if I can have one," he says around the fruit.

Nat dips into the freezer and pulls out a special ice pack. It's got straps and velcro, and she comes around and secures it to me over my shirt.

"Vic," Buck says, and I look up at him as he tosses me a bottle of ibuprofen.

"Take four," Nat commands, and I do, sipping from the glass of water she sets in front of me.

Buck serves up our grilled cheese and we eat together, talking about future missions and the opponents we'll have to face. The rest of the day I shuffle around the facility checking out more hidden rooms I find every day, the rest of the heroes doing their normal chores. I'm exempt because of Natasha's mistake with me, and when Steve found out he gave her my duties. Cleaning the guns and maintaining the range. She accepted them, smirking at me softly as she was scolded by him.

The sky grows dark and I head to my room, hoping to turn in early. I leave the door open as I try to take off my shirt, not bothering with it because I didn't think I could take it off myself.

I huff and puff, straining against my side as I try to raise the hem but it won't give. I let out my breath, panting, then sit against the edge of the bed slowly.

"Need some help?"

Natasha stands in the hallway, in line with my door. She looks in at me, and I don't know how long she's been watching me struggling.

"Yes, please."

She enters, closing the door behind her. I stay sitting. It takes too much energy to stand. She stands above me, and I like looking up at her. My leg is between her thighs and she reaches down, brushing my hair out of my face. Then she slides her hands down my sides, gentle on the side my wrap is, and grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it up, helping me out of it.

"You have something you want to change into?" she asks.

I shake my head, looking up at her exposed. I shift so I'm lying back, then begin struggling with my pants. She chuckles and I smile. She knows what I'm doing.

"You think you're sly," she says, leaning over the bed and tugging my pants down my legs, freeing them.

"I know I'm sly."

She smiles, folding my clothes and dropping them on a chair. "Anything else?" She pulls the covers over me, concealing my body from her.

And suddenly, I'm overwhelmed with the thoughts of what will come in the night. The dream. My mother. The crash. Cuda. And I don't want to live through it again.