I blinked.
Blinking hurt. I winced.
Wincing hurt. My throat hurt. My face hurt. I took it silently this time.
My arm hurt. My real one. An IV was taped to my right elbow.
"Try it again." The scientist adjusting the machine above my head crooned, ignoring my screams of pain.
No. I shook my head and winced again. Grounding. Ground yourself. Where did I learn that? I didn't have the energy to think. Where am I?
Hospital.
A hospital or a lab?
No. A hospital.
I'm in a hospital bed, in a hospital gown, in a hospital room, surrounded by beeping and buzzing hospital equipment that glares down at me, terrifying.
I wheeze. "Steve." His name feels right when I say it, even though it hurts.
"Nope, not Steve. Natasha." A voice says.
Oh. I know that voice. It's that redhead with the blue car and the gun.
Wait. What the hell is she doing here?
I open my mouth to speak and start coughing, trying to form words that won't come. I don't want Natasha here. "Where... is... Steve..." I choke out, although it feels like I'm swallowing razors.
Natasha picks delicately at her nails, seemingly oblivious to my distress. "The room next door," she says flippantly. "Recovering."
From what?
Images of flames and broken glass flicker to mind.
That's why I'm hurting. I got burned.
"Is... he... okay..."
"He's fine. You woke up earlier than the doctors thought you would. That super-soldier serum works wonders, doesn't it?"
I looked up dully at the ceiling. Bright white lights glared down at me. I didn't respond.
"To be honest, I'm surprised you're not freaking out right now," she continues. "I saw your stunt in that hospital in Pennsylvania."
I close my eyes. God, don't remind me. I should've stayed back, but instead, I ran out, leaving destruction and chaos in my wake like always. I'm still responsible, even if I don't remember. The media called me a villain, and they're right. I don't make mistakes. Attacking innocent, defenseless people isn't a mistake. I can't fathom why I'm not sitting in a prison somewhere right now.
Natasha sighed and stood from the flimsy plastic chair against the wall. "Well, get some sleep. There's a button on the side of the bed there to call a nurse, if you need one. I told the doctors not to wake you up at night, just in case." Just in case you wake up, forget who you are, go crazy, and kill them before you even realize what's going on. She opened the door and paused. "Oh, also, the firemen aren't investigating the fire for now, so you're in the clear. Just... don't do anything that would make Steve worry, okay? He has a lot on his mind as it is."
She shut the door. She seemed like she cared. I wondered briefly if we were anything, if were anyone to each other before all of this. Whoever she was, it doesn't matter now. She's still a double agent. She's still on Stark's team. For all I know, she could be driving over to the Avengers compound to spill everything to Tony.
He could still be the one trying to kill me.
That thought overwhelmed me with anxiety. The bomb, the ambush snipers, the tracking device, it was all so different than the hit-and-run attackers in Brooklyn. Stark could easily fund a tech-filled kill team to draw the negative media attention away from himself and back to me. Weird how it always comes back to me.
I tried to stay up, to keep my eyes open and alert for danger. They could attack me here, at my most vulnerable, and complete their mission with ease. They could attack Steve. They weren't hesitant to put him in harm's way at the Jersey safe house, and he suffered on their mission to kill me. Maybe if I let them follow through, they'd leave Steve alone.
I looked at the heart rate monitor beeping behind me. The sharp ups and downs, little blips on the screen. Til the end of the line, Steve and I promised each other. Would our lines end together, or apart?
My eyelids grew heavy and I just couldn't fight it. I gave in to the darkness, the blissful promise of sleep.