The Nikki Wolf Chronicles || Avengers

CHAPTER (9) NINE

My eyes flutter open as I sit up, gasping for air. Once I've situated my breathing pattern, I take in where I am.

"A hospital?" I ask aloud.

There are tubes sticking out of my arms and an IV slowly dripping. An oxygen hose is in my nose, and I yank it out. I'm in a very... flattering gown, and my hair feels messy and gross. When I yawn my arms automatically stretch out, and a jolt of pain strikes my right arm. I let it fall like it's made of lead. Horror-struck, I just stare at it.

"Nikki! You're awake!" I hear a familiar voice.

Oh, great.

"Hi, mom," I say, trying to be nonchalant.

She beams at me, like only a mother can. "How are you feeling?"

"Fantastic. Mum, do you think you can give me some time by myself? I don't remember much, and I'd really appreciate the space." Oddly enough, my mother nods her head eagerly, then and walks out. It's so unlike her to not try to take control of every situation. Nice change, for once.

I examine my arm, poking and prodding at certain spots to locate the pain. With a small jab, I nearly scream at the intensity. Looking even closer, I see a tiny hole, made from a shot. Otherwise, I seem to be perfectly fine.

Which hospital am I at?

The room is not like the usual sterile and white ones I'm used to seeing. There are neutral colors and bright, happy curtains, plus lots of paintings. In other words, it doesn't make me feel like I'm in an insane asylum-- not that I ever have been.

I look out the window that's straight ahead, separating this room and the hallway, and see my mother being escorted out by a young man in a purple shirt. She's smiling at me while waving goodbye. I lift my left hand and give her a two finger salute, feeling slightly conflicted by her mood.

Then I see someone I recognize, but I'm not sure from where. He has short, soft brown hair, and he's wearing a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He seems to be conversing with some other woman. Don't I know her, too?

The two of them look at me at precisely the same time, yet I still don't understand why I have an urge to talk to them. A worried look plasters over the woman's facial features, and the man rubs the back of his neck while looking at the floor. I continue to blankly watch them.

Finally, they disappear from the window. In a few seconds, I hear the door to this room open. I slowly look to the noise.

"Hi," I chirp.

"Nikki! How are you feeling?" the redheaded woman asks me.

"My arm hurts. Do I know you two?"

The man and woman look at each other and seem to have a conversation, but no words are spoken. Then, the man says, "Four hours ago, you fell unconscious when you were hit in the head with a baseball."

I don't listen very clearly. His voice sounds so comforting, and it reminds me of a man I met in Boston, at a restaurant. I remember him being very kind, then a beauty storms in and steals him away.

Then I remember the alley. I remember the fight, the fake bullets, the camera, and the secrets. Lastly, I remember the park. Reality throws me a 'Get Well' brick straight in my stomach.

I start coughing, having choked on my own spit. I lift my left arm and wheeze into my elbow, my eyes watering. Natalie hands me a glass of cool water.

"Natalie... and Hawkeye."

"I prefer Clint Barton when I'm not dressed up."

I give him a cold glare. "You said you wouldn't let them hurt me."