Not what we had expected

19. What goes on inside a Kat's head?

Chapter 19

Kat's POV

Kat woke gasping for breath and clawing at her throat as if trying to pry away invisible hands. Grasping her staff she suddenly realised the huge weight covering over her whole body and with a grunt she shoved it and rolled to the side falling from whatever she was on and hitting the floor loudly and painfully.

The room was dark and it took her a frantic minute to remember she was in Tony's New York tower and what must be a guest bedroom. Her breathing slowed as she calmed down and realised someone had cleaned her and put her in a bed covering her in loads of blankets and duvets. The room had one large bed and various pieces of furniture around the room. There was a chest of drawers which had a few shirts and jeans falling out from the drawers and more than a few electronic devices scattered over most surfaces. Kat felt a little dizzy and like someone had just punched her in the chest with Thor's hammer and it took an effort to stand. As she stood up carefully and she thanked the Wind as he shoved a comforting breeze past her face and she could feel that reassurance that everything was fine and she was safe.

She didn't know what she did to deserve such loyalty from the Wind and she was glad. The Wind was the only friend who had been there since the beginning and she knew that he would always be there for her and her for him. Though she knew the Wind didn't really need anything in return she knew he didn't mind. He always helped her just for the promise of company. Kat didn't really know if the Wind had a gender and she never asked though remembered the first time she had called him a her she had been knocked over into a pile of snow. She never made that mistake again.

In the room she was now in there were several large ceiling to floor windows on one side of the room. The glass was darkened as if it had blinds over them and she could faintly see the lights from the city outside.

"Damn, how long have I been asleep?" She thought out loud thinking back to the fight she had had with that creeper - Victor. That was only at about four or maybe five p.m. that day though it had been still light out but she had no idea how long she had rested for and that worried her. She was surprised to find she he had been changed into a simple tank top and sweat pants and that her other bloody clothes were in a heap on the floor. She dragged herself towards the drawers slowly her bones aching and picked through it until she found a blue hoodie reminding her of the good clothes she had had to get rid of when she had escaped the Hellicarrier all that time ago. There were also countless pairs of skinny jeans and she was happy she found some that actually fit her tiny frame. Putting them on she was thankful they both were her size and that they were so similar to her old reliable clothes.

She watched as the edges of her hoodie took on the familiar layer of frost around her neck and wrists and she felt more relaxed that she didn't have to hold it in like she had for most of the day before. Especially when those clothes weren't even hers she hadn't wanted to ruin them with the frost that covered most of her clothes. Though after being shot at she didn't think they would want them back. That store owner didn't even see me taking it anyways so who will really care? She chuckled remembering the look on the guy's face when he realised someone had shoplifted. She never said he didn't notice. She hardly ever changed what she wore and if she wasn't staying anywhere she would often just steal clothes from washing lines or shops especially when styles were changing. She was glad she could go around in a hoodie and jeans without someone looking at her twice in the resent years. No socks as well, thank god.

The 1800s were the worst, those dresses man; she could have done without them. Sometimes she enjoyed dresses because they made her feel normal and like a woman who could be anyone or as if she was playing dress up. She could be a herself or a spy getting information from the another super-secret agency or even a girl who spent time worrying about what dress was now in fashion and who she was going to marry - a normal person. Sometimes that was all that she needed, a sense of normality. But that was overruled by her hatred for corsets. It was always a last resort and only if she needed something or someone. It wasn't until the very late nineteen thirties that she could wear pants in public or didn't have to pretend to be a boy. If she could avoid shoes and socks she would but sometimes it was unavoidable particularly when she didn't want to be noticed.