The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 57

Somewhere over the Atlantic
Spring 2015

Well, the pain over her ribs and the ache in her head certainly let her know she was still alive. And though she had no way of realistically knowing, somehow, as her eyes fluttered open, she knew she'd been out for a while.

She didn't recognize where she was at all. It sent a spike of fear through her at the realization, the fear from last week returning with a vengeance. There was a distinct, sterile, medical feel to the room; the walls pale and indistinct, monitors and other such equipment tucked around the room, the cot she lay on more like a gurney than a bed. The last time she'd woken in such an unfamiliar, lab-like room her waking had been followed closely by agony as Strucker had begun his experiments on her. After that, well...waking up in the Twin's apartment had been better, but no less frightening; she hadn't known right in that moment just how precious their company would become to her.

But now, there was no Pietro by her side, and no Wanda.

Not that she was alone, either. No, as she glanced around in panic, her eyes immediately fell to the figure sitting next to her bedside. Someone with fox-red hair and bright green eyes. Her heart was suddenly pounding as the last few hours before she'd blacked out came back in an alarming, adrenaline-fuelled rush. Everything from the pervading fear that something horrible had happened to the Twins to Black Widow—Natasha—being dropped at her side to the revelations about her mother...to the battle in the streets of a flying city...to a Quinjet barrelling down on them, its guns blazing...

A strangled breath caught in her throat, choking her, causing her chest to seize in residual panic. At once Natasha was sitting straighter, leaning forward as she noticed Nina was awake.

"Nadya." No sooner had she spoken than Nina's gaze was snapping over to the other side of her bed where she realized her hand was already caught in a firm, comforting grip. A dry sob of relief tore at her.

"Mom." But neither Nina nor Natasha's breathless exclamations had been necessary. Her mom had already shifted from her seat at Nina's side onto the edge of the bed.

"What were you thinking, you foolish girl," she choked out, her voice thick with relief as she pulled Nina tightly against her. Nina clung back, not even realizing that hoarse, frantic words were spilling from her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry—I—I'm—" She could barely breath between Nadine's tight embrace or the gasping sobs breaking up her voice. But her mom's soothing hums and her hands gently rubbing her back and stroking her hair soon managed to help her calm. As her lingering panic and her overwhelming relief began to fade and Nina fell silent, her last memories before blacking out began to creep back into her thoughts, leaving her trembling in her mom's arms. Memories of the jet coming impossibly fast and the bullets screaming toward them...toward Hawkeye, the boy and... All at once fear and panic was crowding painfully into her chest again. With a jerk she pulled away from her mom, her blue-grey eyes wide and terrified as Nadine's brows creased faintly with worry and confusion. She almost couldn't speak, her voice hoarse as she only managed to force out a single word.

"Pietro—" Even as her mom's face softened another body all but crashed into Nina, a different set of arms wrapping tightly around her.

"He's okay," Wanda's shaking voice spilled out next to Nina's ear. A shudder of relief went through Nina as she hugged the Sokovian girl back. "He's going to be okay because of you." As Wanda pulled away she grabbed up Nina's hands tightly in her own, her overly bright eyes fixed intently on Nina as a smile stretched her lips before she turned to glance over at the cot next to Nina's.

There, propped up and looking barely conscious despite the tired smirk on his face as he watched the two of them, lay Pietro. With a hiccupping gasp Nina was scrambling from her own bed, ignoring her mom's and Natasha's and her own body's protests to all but throw herself at the Sokovian boy. She flinched as a pained breath gusted out of him as she fell against him, immediately pulling away, but his arm had already risen to curl around her, tugging tiredly at her until she was settling onto the bed next to him.