I sat up quickly, my head roaring from the sudden movement. I looked around the room, taking in the monitors (which were off), a table to the left of the bed, a tiny bathroom to right. My heart raced as I tried to understand where I was. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to think. Slowly, I thought sorted through my life; my name: Madeleine Baton, my parents: dead and not missed, their work: my bane. Strucker: kidnapper and enemy, Wanda: the closest thing I had to a friend, Pietro: the only person who had ever... No I refused to finish the thought and moved on. The battle and the Avengers came into focus, Ultron, the stabbing in my leg, then, while my vision slowly filled with spots... Pietro. The sound of machine gun bright blood blooming like sick flowers over his body... I exhaled sharply, and opened my eyes, fear like none other filling my heart. A young woman stood before me, watching me cautiously.
"Are you alright? I'm Dr. Cho. You've been un-conscience for about thirty-six hours because of a serious concussion to your frontal lobe." She came over and removed my blanket, revealing my left leg to be bandaged. The woman gently ran her hand over it saying, "You were shot through your left leg, less than a centimeter from shattering the femur; you wouldn't have been able to walk again. We removed the bullet and you should be okay, but-"
"Pietro?" I had been struggling to talk and I finally could croak out his name.
Dr. Cho watched at me carefully. She looked away and sighed. My throat stuck and could barely breath. But she turned back and stared me straight in the eyes. "He'll live."
I fell back onto my pillows in relief.
"But barely. After Mr. Stark received the cradle and created the Vision, he had the cradle's blueprints downloaded to his personal system. He was able to recreate it on short notice. We were able to remove the bullets from Mr. Maximoff and place him in the cradle. Your Pietro is one strong man. If it weren't for his will to live and Mr. Stark's quick work, we would have lost him."
My eyes were closed and her words barely registered. I didn't care if Stark saved him or not, all that mattered was that Pietro was alive. Despite me blatantly ignoring her, the doctor was still talking.
"But back to you. You have several severe slashes on your abdomen, but we were able to use the cradle and heal you right up. Your leg will need rest, as the cradle could not stitch you up. Also, your head will be bothering you for quite sometime. Director Fury is requesting a physical examination along with some psych sessions. SHIELD may get some odd types, but you're something new."
She gave me an appraising look, like being a freak was something she was jealous of. I met her gaze with one of my own, a look of sullenness: what I had was not a gift but a curse; I didn't appreciate her sugar-coating. She looked away first.
"When can I see Pietro?" I asked, turning away also.
"He hasn't yet woken up. His vitals are steady, but please remember Ms. Baton, he should be dead." I was turned away, but I could feel her watching me. "I'll send in some breakfast and a change of clothes. Director Fury wants to debrief you immediately." She walked to the door, but turned back before leaving. "Ms. Baton?" Her pause made me turn to look. "You're safe here. From what I know about you, that has never been true before. But SHIELD is... You can trust us." She turned and left quietly shutting the door behind her.
Breakfast arrived a few minutes later, long enough for me to have gotten bored and tried to walk around, nearly breaking one of the monitors in my attempt to walk on the crutches that had been leaning against my bedside table.
The nurse delivering the food was a small, petite woman, with auburn hair and a baby face. She set my meal on a table that swung around over my lap. She set a change of clothes on a chair, and noting one of the monitor's shifted position and my crutches (which I had thrown to the floor in anger), asked if I needed a wheelchair. As much as I hated the idea of having to use the infernal crutches, a wheelchair would just be plain embarrassing. I ate my oatmeal and slipped into my clothes, a matching grey shirt and pants with the SHIELD logo printed where a pocket would go on the shirt. I rolled up my sleeves and hobbled over to the bathroom, splashing water on my face. I had just finished drying my face when a knock o the door sounded. "Come in!" I called, hastening out of the tiny room. A pale-looking kid stood nervously in the doorway.
"Um, you're supposed to come with me to see the director." I sighed and grabbed my crutches from the floor, struggling to kneel and stand. I followed him out of my room, down a
hall, to an elevator. After riding it to the lobby, we walked out of the hospital and across a courtyard to a building labeled with a giant "A". Another elevator later, we stood before a frosted door with the word "Director" in black lettering.
The kid knocked and deep voice told him to come in. We walked through the door and I was met by a large, African American guy standing between Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.
"Madeleine Baton. My name is Nick Fury. I know you have met Mr. Stark and Captain
Rogers." Fury gave me the once over, then motioned that I sit. I did as did the three of them,
Fury across from me and Steve and Tony on the couch to the side.
"Do you know why you're here?" He asked piercing me with his gaze.
I nodded, holding my tongue.
"Good, because you have to be debriefed while everything is still fresh in your mind. Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers are here to verify your story." He looked at me steadily, and said, "So tell me about battle at Sokovia."