Something Different

12: Calm Before the Storm

"Did you get that?" I innocently smile, all their faces were frozen in shock and disbelief. Fury quickly sent guards in to deal with the scientist, nodding towards me as he scanned the files I handed to him.

"Damn, good thing you're on our side," Tony said, knocking everyone off their stupor. I simply wink, turning my attention back to Fury who finished reading.

"I'll look into these and Strucker's claims," He informs, waving the folders in the air. "Good work. In the meantime, all of you can have a couple days off while I sort this out."

"Yes!" Tony immediately cheered, smiles painting across relieved faces.

Fury extended his finger to everyone present, "No dying." he finished pointedly before heading out.

"Alright! Party. Tomorrow. 10:00," Tony dictated, quickly checking his watch.

"I thought it was this Friday?" I asked confused,

"I'm moving it up on the account of Clint almost dying and you being in a coma for only 3 hours." He shrugged, "No skipping!" warning before finally rushing out the door.

With that, the group dispersed back to their rooms. I washed the bulk of the blood off of the suit, the smell stinking up the restroom as the thin red liquid flowed down the sink. I disposed of the grey shirt I wore under– too many holes in the front putting even fishnet stockings to shame.

After cleaning everything to the best of my ability, I washed my hands and prepared a fresh set of clothes. I carefully removed the bandages wrapped around my stomach, the freshly scabbed skin lightly sticking to the gauze.

"I guess it could be worse," tracing the stitches of the diagonal wound through the mirror.

I continued, sighing at all the other faded lines leading to more stitches and bruises. I quickly turned the shower on, desperate to feel something other than confusion and heaviness.

As the hot water cascaded down my skin, tension withheld from the day's events finally dissipated. Each droplet provided much-needed comfort, my mind slowly drifting off to Strucker's insistent probing of my past.

"Want a drink y/n?" My father asked as he passed me a mug of hot chocolate. My family— mother, father, and brother, all gathered around the roaring fire that was burning in the backyard of our mountain home.

I thanked him and sipped the drink, humming as it warmed my insides against the cool winter air. It was our tradition for the start of the season. We'd head out to the mountains for a vacation and for my parents to visit their work located near there.

"Y/n! Think fast!" I hear my brother shout before immediately being pelted in the face with a cold snowball.

"You asshole!" I screamed as I carefully placed my mug on the log next to me before racing after him.

"Y/n! Michael! Not too far!" My mother yelled as we raced through the trees. "No promises Mother!" We shouted, laughing as we assaulted each other with snowballs.

A sharp shiver that sent down my spine swiftly snapped me back to reality. I quickly dried off and sat at the foot of my bed to replace the bandages. Without the adrenaline and frustration, my body was beginning to feel sore.

I stared at the ceiling for a while; lightly bouncing on the cold, soft linen sheets soaking the remaining moisture that was left on my body. Wearing clothes was mildly cumbersome, the stitches pulling and stretching to conform to the slow, agonizing movements as I rolled around on the bed.

Taking deep breaths when I finished, I grabbed my jacket, my gear, and my notebook, and headed straight to the lab– hopeful that it would keep my mind from drifting too far into the past and distract me enough to ignore the growing pain.