SANCTUM | Avengers

9

- NINE -

"Nat did you really have to go for the sternum? You could have killed her," somebody whispers.

Their voices are like echoes. The words are far away, taking their time to reach my ears.

"Yes, says the man that is laying in the bed next to her because she shot him in the chest," says a female voice, painstakingly familiar.

The man lying in the hospital be next to me scoffs.

My body won't move, but the voices become more clear.

"And besides, I didn't aim for the sternum....initially. She turned and practically leaned on the syringe."

Both of their chuckles stop immediately as my hand twitches. From that small movement, I can tell that they've got me chained up, most likely on my ankles too.

The scent of antiseptics burns my nose and unpleasant memories rip through my mind. Flashes of dark hallways, rolling metal tables and-

My stream of memories suddenly stops when a bought of pain screams through my chest. I feel my body convulse and twitch on the medical bed. I can feel the constraints around my ankles and a needle embedded into my arm at the crook in my elbow. The medicine seeps into my veins, drop by drop. What were they trying to do? Heal me?

I laugh. I try to, at least, but my throat is dry and sore, so the sound comes out as more of a wheezing cough.

My eyes stay shut, but the faces of the two other people in the room pop into my mind.  The pain subsides to a dull throb, nothing that I have not handled before.

I try to move again; I will my eyes to open or my neck to crane to the side, but I stay still. My eyeballs move under my lids, shut as tight as a locked safe.

"Go back to sleep, shadow girl," I hear the female voice almost whisper. I know the voice, but my brain is slow and sluggish. My thoughts swim around in my head like they're underwater. Suddenly, I feel the needle in my arm push more of sedative back into my veins. My mind is awake, but my body refuses to move; my brain is trapped inside it's own prison.

Just like I woke, my mind goes straight back into the abyss.

   -------------

When I wake up from a what feels like hours of sleep, the most recent dose of the sedative has worn off. I don't move, even though my body and mind feel alert.

I know somebody is in the room, but they don't stand. I can feel their eyes burning into my still body. I hear their shallow breaths as they sit and wait.

"Thank you for keeping me company," I wheeze, noticing the dryness of my throat again. My voice sounds weak, like a sick child. I  hear her voice chiding me.

"It wasn't my first choice because, well, you tried to kill my friend. But I always seem to draw the short straw. So here we are," the man says, sighing. His voice sounds no younger than 50. He speaks with a slight accent- eastern American. New York. I keep my eyes closed and don't move, listening to the man get out of the chair. When he moves, the seat scrapes against a wall.

"No hard feelings," I say. "It could've been anyone."

"But that's the thing, you little trickster, it wasn't. You almost killed my team mate and that does not fly with me. Ever."

His teeth are gritted as he speaks. I'm tempted to open my eyes, if only to see his simmering anger.

Team mate? So he's an Avenger. This isn't Hawkeye or the Captain, I would recognize their voices. Also this can't be either the widow or the demi-god. This voice is neither female nor does it have an Asgardian accent. So that leaves the green man and the rich man. And I can hear the swagger dripping off his words.