Shattered Edges - Nat (A, F)

200 3 0
                                    

Plot: After a mission went south, you come home and try to hide your injuries from Natasha. Your past has taught you to cope with them on your own instead of asking for help. However, your blood loss has made you forget that Natasha is a trained spy.
Warnings: blood, injury, trauma, angst
Word count: 3,3k
__________________________________

Y/n stumbled through the corridors of Avengers tower, each step an excruciating effort. The mission had been a disaster. One of those kinds of disasters where things went wrong before they even had a chance to go right. But it wasn't the mission that weighed on her. It was the pain that radiated from the deep gash along her side, the broken rib that she could feel grinding against her insides with every breath, and the exhaustion that clung to her limbs like lead.

Her training had kicked in the second she realized she was hurt, long before the others had even noticed. Hydra had conditioned her well, to conceal pain, to suppress vulnerability. In her world, weakness meant death, and there had never been room for mercy, let alone care.

The familiar, sterile walls of the Tower blurred as she made her way down the hall, her vision swimming slightly. But she kept her pace steady, determined. Natasha couldn't see her like this. No one could. The others were still debriefing, but she had slipped away, not trusting herself to stay upright long enough to make it through the meeting. She told herself she just needed to clean up. Get it under control. She would be fine. She was always fine.

The room she shared with Natasha was just ahead, and the door was slightly ajar, light spilling out into the darkened hallway. Y/n felt a small, sharp spike of panic as she saw the light, Natasha was already home. She had hoped to get back before her, patch herself up, and brush it all off as nothing. Now, the plan was ruined.

Her heart raced, and she tried to steady her breathing, ignoring the burning pain that flared with each inhale. Maybe Natasha hadn't seen her yet. Maybe she was still in the bathroom or the kitchen. If she could just make it to the bed without collapsing, maybe she could still hide it.

But as she reached for the door, her vision blurred, the edges of her sight darkening. The pain hit her harder, a fresh wave that nearly knocked her off her feet. She gripped the doorframe, her knuckles white, and for a moment, she thought she might pass out. She couldn't pass out here, not where Natasha would find her.

Get it together, she thought, clenching her jaw. You've been through worse.

With a shaky breath, y/n slipped into the room, careful not to make a sound. She leaned against the wall for support, every nerve in her body screaming in protest. The door closed softly behind her, the faint click somehow deafening in the quiet of the room. Her pulse thrummed loudly in her ears, and she could feel the blood pooling beneath her suit, hot and sticky as it soaked through her side.

She moved toward the bathroom, her only thought to clean up, to hide the evidence. But before she made it halfway across the room, her knees buckled. She gasped, catching herself on the edge of the bed just before she fell completely. Pain shot through her side, so intense it brought tears to her eyes. She bit her lip hard, willing herself not to cry out.

She collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, pressing her back against the mattress, trying to calm the panic that clawed at her chest. She was slipping, and she knew it. The blood loss was more than she had anticipated. Her vision swam, the edges of the room blurring and twisting in ways that made her feel sick. But she couldn't let it show. She couldn't let Natasha see her like this.

Natasha had always been the strong one, the steady one. Y/n had seen the way Natasha handled herself in battle, the way she carried herself through life with an unshakable sense of control. She had never wanted to be a burden to her. Especially not now, when Natasha had so much else to deal with. Y/n didn't want to be one more thing she had to worry about. She had to hold it together, had to clean herself up before Natasha noticed.

One Shots (Scar/Nat x Fem Reader)Where stories live. Discover now