Never in a Million Years |N.R|

|29| To new beginnings.

Once the helicarrier was back over American waters, I was taken from the medical wing and transported straight to a New York hospital. My first week in there was spent fighting a stubborn infection, even with the super serum in my veins, whilst the second was spent healing to a point where I was safe to be discharged.

Nat stayed by my side for most of it, only leaving when she had important business to attend to since the goings on in Sokovia demanded for a lot of damage control. Not that I was good company anyway. I barely ever spoke, only offering one worded replies when doctors came by for check ups, or when Nat asked if I was hungry or thirsty. The answer was mostly no, and my body was paying the price. I was weak and pale, a shell of a person.

I could tell that it was eating away at her. My constant silence and emotionless state of being. She tried so hard to hide her grief from me, but I heard her muffled cries at night when she thought I was asleep, or her strained voice when she spoke to Clint or the others outside of my room, desperate to hold back her tears. She hated crying, especially in front of other people. Just one more thing to feed my guilt as she began to lose herself in hopes of finding me.

But I was lost.

By the time it came for me to be discharged, Tony gave Nat the address to something he'd had built. But he refused to elaborate any further. Just telling us to bring our things.

Nat helped me into a wheelchair once all of the paperwork was signed off, pushing me through the hallways as a heavy silence hung between us. A silence that had withstood the previous two weeks. I wanted so desperately to talk to her freely and effortlessly, but my mind just wouldn't allow for it. I couldn't make sense of my feelings. I wanted to protect myself from them, from what would happen if people could see them or come to know them. It was my own kind of damage control it seemed.

I groaned as she lowered me into the passenger seat of her corvette, not daring to make eye contact with her when I could feel her eyeing me with a worried look. Guilt struck me every time I saw her like that, so hopeless, especially when she knew that I wasn't going to comfort her. I wanted to so badly, but I just...I just couldn't.

"This place is upstate. Do you think you'll be okay to be sat up for that long?" She questioned from beside me once she'd dropped into the drivers seat and closed her door.

I gave her a small nod, not exactly feeling like I had a choice. If it did become painful, I'd just have to grit my teeth and bear it.

As we began to drive, my eyes darted in every direction as I took in our ever changing surroundings. I was so on edge constantly, as though I felt someone watching at all times who was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And whenever I had a nightmare, or would merely see a flash of one of those visions in the day, I couldn't escape its grip for the coming hours. It had all consumed me so effortlessly.

  And that was when I saw it. A face in the crowd that stood out from the rest. It was Nat, the one covered in blood from a gunshot wound to the head. A gunshot that I'd inflicted. She was what I saw most often. And thankfully this time I had the real thing beside me to remind me it wasn't real. Although that didn't stop me snapping my head towards the window and then over my shoulder as we drove past. My breaths quickened as I searched the endless crowds for her face, her terrified and disappointed eyes that looked on at me in disbelief. How could I have done that to her?

It was as if my subconscious was still intact enough to know what I needed before I had any idea. Kicking in just before I was reduced to a ball of panic and forced Nat to pull over. Because my left hand reached over to grasp at Nat's upper arm. She clearly hadn't expected it as we jerked to the side a little, although she was quick to correct it.