battle | b. barnes

"You look like shit."

2 months later

I stare up at the ceiling as I wait for sleep to overcome me.

I don't know how long it's been since I've been laying in bed, but the darkish blue hue in the sky is telling me that it's twilight.

I turn to my side so that my back is facing the window. But now the bright red numbers from my digital clock stare back at me instead.

5:03 AM it reads, giving me another reminder of how I've had yet another sleepless night.

I close my eyes and let out a soft groan. Pushing the covers off of my body, I sit up in bed and look out the large, uncovered window.

The sky is slightly brighter now, but I know the sun hasn't risen yet given that the moon is still shining bright in the sky.

With a sigh, I get out of bed and walk over to my wardrobe to choose my outfit for the day: a black full sleeve top and a pair of black joggers.

Grabbing my towel that's resting on the back of my leather chair, I walk into the bathroom and place my clothes and towel on the rack before turning the light on.

I'm instantly met with my reflection in the mirror.

Exhausted. That's the best to describe what I look like.

Sunken under eyes that are graced with dark circles, drooping eyelids, disheveled hair; my appearance just shows a glimpse of what I'm feeling on the inside.

Leaning closer to the mirror, I stare into my dreary, dark brown eyes as my mind wanders away.

"You were dead for a good three hours before Coulson and May put you in the cryochamber and connected you to a vial of GH-325," Daisy explains. "We didn't know if it was too late, so we told everyone that you died. The only people that actually know your whereabouts is Coulson's team."

"My family? They think I'm dead?" I ask quietly.

Skye nods her head.

"We had a funeral for you. Your mom and sister were there. Some of The Avengers were there too, including Bucky."

I shake my head as I bring myself back to reality, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach.

I turn the shower on and take my shirt off as I wait for the water to heat up.

My eyes immediately go to the scar on my waist. There are three lines altogether, the first two being long, jagged lines. They start at the top near my rib cage, overlapping, before slowly diverging and ending at two different parts on my waist. The third line is smaller and not as uneven. It runs perpendicular to the two long lines, connecting them to form a slim, haphazard triangle.

I slowly bring my index finger to trace the scar, starting at the top of the triangle. The skin is slightly raised but smooth. I stop when I reach the end of the long line that ends right next to my belly button.

"Shut the hell up!" I shriek as I land another punch to Rumlow's bloodied face.

He spits out a mouth full of blood before turning to look at me.

"You-you should've never," he struggles to say between labored breath, "put your blade away."

I ignore him and raise my fist again, but the feeling of a cold, sharp object puncturing my skin stops me.

My eyes widen in shock. I grab Rumlow's hand as a sharp twinge blossoms in my abdomen.

I look down to see that his hand is wrapped around a switchblade that's inside of me.