Wither Wings (An Avengers Crossover)

Phase 4: The Fall

Getting back to normalcy, or whatever constituted normalcy in the hospital, was the hardest part. Max had gotten so used to talking with Steve every day that his absence was stronger than his presence.

Max stood from the hospital bed, the clunky plaster cast on her leg replaced with a slimmer walking cast. The x-rays had proved that there were nothing but a few hairline fractures left and approve the leg to bear weight.

She tried the door handle and pressed her weight against it. Nothing. It wouldn't budge. There was a card scanner to go in, but not out, making it nigh impossible for Max to pull an Escape from Alcatraz unless she suddenly developed to power to tunnel through metal.

Leaning up against the door, Max sighed. This is useless, she thought to herself. She was going stir-crazy being cooped up in solitary confinement all of the time. Lena came to visit to check on her vitals and administer pain pills, but what she needed was some actual human interaction, not someone who is paid to look after her.

My hospital bills are going to be astronomical after this, she thought to herself with a chuckle as she glanced about the room. Even though she barely knew anything about the hospital besides the fact that they're pretty aware of mutants and do routine tests on superheros, it would be the kind of place to mail her an invoice once their done monitoring her for whatever they feel like.

The cast made a scratching sound as she slid to the floor, her feet splayed out in front of her. Max wiggled her toes, a few chips of leftover nail polish from when Nudge decided to paint them in her sleep glinted in the light. The ugly black velcro obscured much of the rest.

She became overwhelmed with longing, something that'd been happening more recently. Nudge would know what to do to make this cast look better. She'd draw swirls with puffy paint and glue on some rhinestones so it was more of a fashion accessory than a show of how much pain she was in. Iggy would create an interesting pair of crutches for her that don't crush her wings and then Gazzy would blow them up a day later. Fang would carry her to bed whilst she was protesting the entire time. They'd get into a fight that would end in bruises and black eyes and ultimately, a very romantic McChicken foraged from a dumpster. And Angel... Angel would just be there, and that makes all the difference.

The love for them, the pain she felt, it was what paralyzed her when they'd first taken her to this place. It's what made her want to waste away into nothing. Now, it's what fuels her. It's what makes her want to get back out and fight. If by some miracle she was allowed to live, she should make it count for something. Max never was one to believe in miracles, but she might just start.

--- 

It was in the fifth week that she began to notice that security wasn't completely airtight. She was surprised that they didn't do more to detain her after her small jailbreak to go see Steve; the only thing that was added were restraints on the wheelchair but even those would be embarrassingly easy to break out of. She was starting to get stronger and eat more and more every day.

The bathroom door swung shut behind her and, like every time she entered it, she felt for a lock underneath the door handle. It was never their. It made a modicum of sense to not put locks so the patient couldn't lock themselves in or out but it still annoyed some small part of Max. Privacy was never an issue, she felt it was more about control.

They controlled everything. From what she ate to when she walked to the type of milk she was allowed to drink (screw 2%). Max hadn't seen the sunlight for weeks because of the lack of windows in her tiny hospital cell and her only source of entertainment has been beating Lena at gin rummy every day and aimlessly drawing swirls in all of the notebooks she keeps filling up. She still hasn't talked to anyone besides Steve; that's one thing she'll keep control of.