Connected... {A Scarlet Vision Fanfic}

Guilt

Warning this chapter contains very slight gore

(Clint's POV)

I rushed the gurney into the tower, receiving several confused looks from the staff. I knew I couldn't run the gurney up the stairs, so I had to wait for the elevator, and then wait in the elevator as it took us to the floor with the medical bay. As soon as the doors opened, I rushed out pushing the kid into Helen Cho's lab.

She quickly made her way over to us, eager to see what caused such commotion.

"Dr.Cho, do you have the new cradle up-and-running?" I asked desperately.

"We just finished rebuilding it." She assured, focusing her attention on Pietro's wounds, and signaling her nurses over.

"Can you save him?" I practically pleaded.

"I don't know, but I'm going to try." Her voice was soothing, I supposed that's what made her a good doctor. Her was smooth, and unwavering, yet she somehow oozed this sense of  delicate comfort. It was her voice that eased conscience, albeit only slightly, I was still responsible for his death.

She wheeled him away, transferring him to a medical table. She quietly and firmly instructed her nurses. "I need to remove the bullets, someone remove his shirt, and get me gloves, and my tools." They quickly scattered, each doing their designated task.

His shirt was cut and ripped away from his body, the blue spandex fabric wet and tattered from his wounds.
His abdomen was scattered with bullet holes, each mar in his flesh represented a bullet that was meant for me.

Helen slipped on sterile latex gloves, slipped on a surgeon's mask, and a headlamp, tied her hair back, and put on her scrubs, readying herself for the procedure.

[A/N] I'm sorry if this is incorrect, I got this off of google, I am NOT a surgeon

"You," she pointed to a nurse "get a mask, and gloves and grab the forceps" The nurse did as Helen requested. "Open the wound". The nurse pulled the skin back , allowing Helen a better look at the bullet. Helen grabbed the forceps, and retrieved the bullet, pulling it out the way it came. Blush gushed out of the wound. "His increased metabolism should make up for the amount of blood loss". A nurse quickly applied gauze and absorbed the red liquid. Helen stitched the wound shut, and bandaged it.

9 bullets.

19 hours of surgery.

By the end of the surgery all the Avengers were there, minus Bruce. Each one came to grieve Pietro- Quicksilver.

"His BPM is down to 11 beats per minute, get him in the cradle, NOW." Helen said, exhausted and sweating, her hands now shook, and dark circles resided under her eyes. The nurses quickly placed him in the machine, programming it to his needs. Helen clutched the med table, attempting to steady her balance. Steve rushed to her side, picking her up bridal style as she collapsed. He carried her out of the room, presumably to her bedroom in the tower. I thought I noticed a small hint of a smile on his face as he held her in his arms.

I looked over to Wanda, who looked worst of all of us. She hadn't stopped trembling the entirety of the 19 hours, her shoulder heaved as she sobbed, her uneven breaths cut through the silence, her mascara was smeared on her cheeks. Fresh tears slowly rolled down her face, mixing with the dried salty droplets that already resided on her warn-torn face. She had been through too much. She was so young, she didn't deserve this. 

(Wanda's POV)

I had never been so nervous. A gnawing feeling was eating me alive, It felt like the hungry stray dogs that used to feed on scraps in the streets of Sokovia. Vicious, and desperate. Hot tears made trails down my face like lava carving through mountains. My whole body felt like the embodiment of destruction, anguish, and turmoil.

Magic burned inside me, the fuel to my fire. Well, not exactly fuel, it was more like trying to smother flames by pouring gasoline on it. The smolder inside me was growing every second, itching to be released, to be set free. But I pushed the feeling down to the pit of my stomach. I wouldn't allow my rage to destroy all the people Pietro almost died trying to protect.

I could see the Avengers looking at me, I could see the pity in their eyes. That's when it was too much, Pietro's presence in mind always strengthened my telepathic abilities, allowing me to block out the rest of the world. But with our mental connection withering by the second, I couldn't keep their voices out of my head.

The guilt.

They all felt guilty for Pietro, somehow convincing themselves that they were each responsible in their own way.

They were all wrong.

I knew who to blame.

Ultron.

I covered my ears , trying to block it out. They were all consumed with their own thoughts, and it was consuming me.

"ENOUGH!" I bellowed, unable to take anymore of it. "None of you are responsible, so stop blaming yourselves. You Americans always think you're the center of universe, concerning yourself in every matter, blaming yourself for every mishap. Well I know who's responsible. Ultron! And he isn't any of our faults' either. Ultron took the gift we gave him, the gift of life, and ran off with it, consumed with arrogance and vengeance. None of us predicted that, but we all stopped it. Together. That's all Pietro ever wanted; to be a part of something bigger, to help people. I know he wouldn't sit around allowing everyone to wallow in self-pity. So get off your asses and do something... And for God's sake quiet your minds." I finished with an exasperated heave.

They all exchanged unreadable expressions. But, their voices left my mind, allowing some peace to enter my soul.

Suddenly, Clint came up to me, encasing me in a hug. I was confused at first. I could feel his uneven breaths against me and I remembered his voice was the loudest in the chorus of guilty cries.

In the past few days I had known him, Clint became almost a father figure to Pietro and I. I didn't hesitate to return his hug. I wrapped my arms around him, and he brought a hand to cradle my head, a strangely comforting gesture. Almost like cradling a baby. 

I didn't like to read people, but I was curious to know the meaning behind the hug, so I tentatively entered his thoughts.

'Almost like they're my own, I need to pull myself together. Wanda's right, I need to forgive myself. I need to protect them.'

"Thank you" I said through our brief connection.

I retreated back into my own head.

He softly ended the embrace. Looking at me with an indistinguishable expression. I smiled sadly at him before retreating to my corner.

None of the Avengers bothered me the rest of the night, all recognizing I needed space.

I looked over to the cradle, the high-tech beams of light regenerating each bullet hole, albeit slowly. I reprimanded myself for being impatient. I remembered the beautiful Doctor saying there were no shortcuts when creating-or recreating human tissue.

Now I all I had to do was wait, and pray that my brother would make it out of this alive.

Waiting was never my strong point.

***

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