Don't be scared you can't hide
So we beg that we have the strength to fight
▁▂▃▅▆▇▉▊▆▃▂▁
(A/n Ugh, it will be sad.)
Cassie's hands slowly slid over my hair, gathering strand by strand a plain braid that began at the back of my head and ended at the shoulder blades. The girl slightly straightens, giving volume, and looks at me inquiringly.
"Yes, I like it," I nod and make a sign that for the time being she can go and manage her own problems.
Cassie is a good girl, but she doesn't do two things very skillfully: she cooks amaretto for me and hides her feelings. If it was somehow possible to put up with the first one, then the second was annoying with the order of magnitude. She mumbled something in response and left, taking the bag.
I look at myself in a tall and long mirror. The skin became much paler. A half-half-gasp escaped from the lips, compressed into a thin line, and the mirror cracked precisely on my face. I watch for a while as the spider webs spread over the fragile glass, but I still drive off to a huge window.
Tonight, one thought kept me awake. I rolled from side to side, but I couldn't close my eyes. Because of the excitement, the stomach still cramped, but this is the least that worried me now. The fact is that yesterday, during the evening feeding of my furry wards, I noticed what made me spend all night thinking and weighing all the pros and cons.
It seemed to me that the risk was justified, but after a minute my hands were cold, and my fingers were trembling with fear. In the end, I decided to talk to Tony. It is better to know for sure the possibility of an event than to sit and wind yourself up.
Tin Can was in our laboratory, where he argued with Friday about something. He immediately diverted from his incredibly interesting occupation and turned to me.
"Wow, our prior finally got out of his cell," I roll my eyes and come closer.
"I have a serious conversation with you, Mr Iron Clown. I want my legs back."
"And how? Oh, I think I understand. Do you want me to make your dentures? So this is not a problem; it will come out no worse than that of the notorious Winter Soldier, I can safely promise you that."
"No, no," I shake my head, but to myself, I think that such an idea never entered my head. "You didn't understand me: I want my legs."
Stark changed his face for a second. Then he smiled indulgently and flopped straight into the bean bag.
"Do you wanna say that you are going to try out the results of our research?" why he speaks about this matter as if we hadn't done this only for the last three years? Looking at me, Tony understood the seriousness of my words. "In the best case, you will grow a second head or a third hand, and I'm not saying that at worst you will die, because you already know that.
"I know," I nod confidently and look straight into his eyes. "And I also know that I will die soon because of this problem is shaking my nerves." I don't have the strength and courage to live as a disabled person.
Tony put his elbows on his knees and buried his hands in his dark hair. I was scared to take such a step, but it was even worse than he would forbid me also to try.
"The investigation is not yet complete," I heard barely audible muttering.
"I know," I barely had enough strength to suppress the tremor in my voice. "But if I die, I die in the struggle for my own happiness."
"Why don't you wait while we experiment on other people?"
"Because it seems to me that more than a month will be crucial for me. I don't have enough strength." the voice breaks into a whisper, and the fingers are nervously fingering the gold chain on the left wrist.
"Fine," finally, Tony gets up.
It is even strange that a person for whom the probability of death in the procedure of restoring the legs is about thirty per cent is so happy.
"Thank you," I so wanted to get up, hug Stark tightly and firmly and inhale the smell of eternal engine oil, which seemed to be tightly ingrained in all his clothes.
But I just went to the exit, after hearing only:
"Next week. And don't die there, please. I can not stand the burden of responsibility for the death of another person."
One stone in my soul was replaced by another, which squeezed my throat no less tightly. The week seemed nervous, so I decided to complete all my affairs quickly and quietly. I paid all the bills, received all the parcels, rechecked the calculation of the dose of serum I needed, and thus went to a personal lawyer after five days.
Mr Adams was waiting for me at noon. At eleven, fully assembled, I asked Steve to take me to the law office of Schiffrin & Barroway, where I had to complete some formalities with my property.
"Why do you need to be here, if it is not a secret?" Rogers drove me to the doors and opened them for my unhindered entry.
"I need to make a testament," I whisper in a calm voice. Steve even asked if he hadn't misheard, but, realising the seriousness of my intentions, he left, promising to come in exactly two hours.
In the office of Mr Adams, there was also a little light, a lot of clerical dust and cups from under the drunk coffee. He hastily removed everything and then helped me take off my coat. Having checked all my documents for authenticity, we proceeded.
I often imagined the feelings that I would have had if I had only a few days or weeks to live.
I just wanted to wrap myself in a warm blanket, listen to my favourite music and drink hot chocolate with marshmallow. I am guided by the idea that you do not breathe before dying, so why somehow have time to finish your work, if, in the end, everything is rotten?
"May I ask one question?" I nod. Mr Adams folds his hands in front of him in the lock and slightly leans forward, squinting his little eyes. "Why does such a young and beautiful girl make a testament so early? Are you sick?"
"Something like that," I reach for my bag and take out a few envelopes from thick rough paper with names written on it. "Could you in case of my death pass these letters to people whose names are written here? I'll give you a little hint on how to find them: they are from Avengers."
Mr Adams was aware of my work, and therefore, without asking any questions, he took the envelopes with his sausage fingers and put it in a folder with my name.
Well, now I can be sure that, in which case, all that I didn't have time to say will be expressed and accepted by the recipients of these same letters.
I have already ten times managed to see the sign of the office up and down. Finally, my patience ran out, and I called Steve. Tightening the scarf tighter, I began to listen to beeps. One, two, then the third...
"Hello?" finally, something was heard from the phone. Then some kind of grinding and mumbling.
"Steve?" I try to distinguish at least something in this clang. It looks like the sounds of battle. "What the hell is going on? Where are you?"
"Y/n? I'm sorry, but I'm a little busy. I was urgently called on a mission. But I asked Pietro to pick you up."
After that, the connection was suddenly broken, and the voice of the robot girl, sounded like Alexa, to be honest, said that Steve was outside the network coverage area.
God, I hope all is well with him. Afterwards, I hurried to pick up Pietro, but this was not needed, because Quicksilver was already coming towards me.
"Hello."
"Hello."
For a second his gaze lingers on the signboard of a law firm, but the guy says nothing. My breath came from the mere thought that I might never see him again. This, it would seem, should encourage me to abandon the procedure, but in fact, this also added to me more courage to survive to be with my dear people.
Pietro takes the chair by the handles and rolls down the ramp. The cold wind mercilessly ruffles my hair, turning my hair just like neatly gathered curls. We drove in silence, and between us, every electrical voltage sparks were jumping.
I had to hold back so as not to seem, obsessive girl, as I then thought, and he only sometimes looked at me with his piercing blue eyes.
It was hard for me to think that now I have to explain the reason for my actions. Wanda was in the kitchen, where she made fresh tea. I had to ask Pietro to stay for a while so that later he would not accuse me of lying.
The story was not straightforward, and my motives and arguments seemed so pathetic in words that it became embarrassing. Emotions were continually changing on their faces, and I felt uncomfortable.
"So you seriously say that you can get your legs back?" Wanda raised her eyebrows, even a shadow of joy flashed on her face, but then she disappeared into clouds of doubt and resentment, mixed with fear. "What is the probability of death?"
"I managed to reduce it to twenty per cent."
Pietro suddenly hit his fist on the table. I even jumped and stared at him in all eyes. "I never thought you were such an egoist, Y/n," Wanda put her hand on her brother's shoulder, soothing him, but I was unable to move. "How can you expose yourself to such danger because of the illusory hope of success? Do you not care what your loved ones will feel if you...die?"
"If hope were really ghostly, then I wouldn't try, you know," my voice suddenly began to acquire steel, coldness. How dare he accuse me of egoism, when I try not only for myself, but also for him? After all, if everything succeeds, we could be together. "If you were in my place, would you not try to regain your lost legs?" I understand that this is not entirely correct, but still.
After my words, Pietro's eyes did not cease to let out thunder and lightning, but at least outwardly he looked calmer. He threw off the hand of his younger sister and headed for the exit.
"Do you also think that he is right?" Wanda raised her eyes to me, in which I could see the answer. But even the arguments of my close friends couldn't knock me out of the rut and temper my determination.
Although every day, every hour melted in front of me.
I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat because of the constant excitement and fear. At times, Cassie asked how I felt, but she always had to be content with the same answer: "Fine."
The girl, of course, had to be fired, since I no longer need her. Yeah, she can hardly find a job with the same pay as here. Stark got permission from the government to conduct such an experiment, and very soon I was transferred to a modern hospital in a suburb of New York, where they would look after me.
Here I am already sitting on the couch and looking at the stumps, as I now call my legs. Now my life will either change for the better or end it.
I shivered from the cold that created the unpleasant white colour of the tiles in the room. And perhaps a strange likeness of a shirt with ties on the back, I don't know. My face was pale, and a hot blush of overt excitement appeared on my cheeks. I am glad that at least there will be no pain either in case of death or in case of success.
My coffin, as everyone called him, was completely ready.
A large metal safety box stood right in the middle of the room.
"Are you ready?" I look up at Tony. I nod slightly, and he takes me in his arms, lifting me into the air and setting me in this box. The whole body becomes wadded with fear, and then the rest of them also bade to say goodbye.
"Good luck," Wanda hugs me and rubs my hair.
"Let everything end well," Steve squeezes me tightly in his arms, which makes Pietro look displeased at us.
"I hope it will bring you happiness," when Pietro's turn comes, then my chills run all over my body. I don't want to leave him, but I am not going to change my mind.
A doctor comes in, greets everyone and explains what actions will be taken. Though I know everything by heart, I still listen eagerly. "We'll introduce Miss Y/l/n into an artificial coma for two months," he puts his hands in the pockets of his white pants and gives a sign to the other two nurses to proceed. "During this time, the serum will be continuously injected intravenously, which will ensure the restoration of lost limbs. The first three days are decisive. If she survives, then the further forecast is favourable, but she not..."
I practically don't feel how a thin needle pierces the skin on my hands. The woman continues and continues to say something, but all the noises merge into one that is entirely incomprehensible to my ears.
A single tear runs down one's cheek, which one of the nurses quickly wipes with a napkin and looks with terrible sadness in her eyes.
Before I was covered with a lid, I felt something light on my lips. Perhaps it just seemed to me. I got nervous.
Darkness takes me into its warm embrace, forcing me to get rid of extraneous thoughts and worldly vanity. Now my life will either change for the better or end it.