Mindless chapter 8

Stage 1: Denial

The morning after the phone call, you woke and when to breakfast. As soon as you entered the kitchen, all of the conversation ceased. They looked at you as if you might explode. You have them a small smile and grabbed a bowl for your cereal. They looked at each other, confused.

Tony was the first to ask, "Are you okay?"

You smiled, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Now they were even more confused. Steve was the next to speak, "You know (Name), if you need to talk-"

"What's there to talk about? There's nothing to talk about." You interrupted quickly, gripping the bowl a little too tightly.

"You know it's not good to hide your emotions, (Name)." Clint stated.

"I'm not hiding anything." You responded. Gripping the bowl even tighter, not hearing the audible cracking noises.

"(Name)-" Tony began.

"I said I'm fine!" With that, the bowl broke into pieces, cutting your hands badly, in the process.

They stared at your bleeding hands until you sighed and walked back to your room, slamming the door for emphasis.

Stage 2: Anger

You sat in the room staring at your now profusely bleeding hands, angry. You had nothing to hide you were fine. There was nothing to talk about. Except the fact that your brother just died.

The worst part was there was nothing you could do for him. The person who told you couldn't even tell you in person. This made you angry. Very angry.

A knock on the door startled you. "(Name), can I come in?" You heard a muddled Tony say.

You were to mad to form a real response. So you just said, "Whatever."

Tony came in. He was cautious, as if anything he did would set you off. "Hey." He said softly.

"Hey." You mumbled.

He finished crossing the room to you. He squatted down and grabbed your wrist to look at your bloody hand. He grimaced, "This looks bad (Name). Let's go or and let Bruce look at it."

"No." You said sternly.

"(Name), if we don't clean it, it could get infected or you could bleed out if it keeps going at this rate."

Your hands were pretty bad. In the couple minutes that he held your hand up, a decent amount had dripped down and got all over Tony's pants.

You quickly snatched your hand away, "Leave me alone."

"(Name)-"

"I said, leave me alone!" As soon as those words left your mouth, one of the lamps on one of your two bedside tables flew directly at Tony's head. But, Tony had fast reflexes, so he ducked before the lamp hit him. It shattered against the wall behind him.

"What the hell was that for?" He shouted, incredulous.

You just sat on the floor and stared at him.

He sighed and walked to the door, "You're not going to talk? Fine. But I'm not leaving until-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you mentally picked up your now empty bedside table and threw it directly at Tony's face. Instead of ducking, he ran out the door and shut it just as the table smashed against it.

Now you were alone.

**POV Change**

As Tony quickly slammed the door, he heard the crash of the bedside table. He leaned against the doorframe and sighed.

The team stared at him confused. "What was that?" Natasha asked.

"A bedside table." Tony stated.

"Why did a bedside table crash into the door?" She continued to question him.

"(Name) may have thrown it at me."

"Why did (Name) throw a bedside table at you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Tony-"

"I really don't know! Honest!" He said defensively.

Natasha sighed as Bruce asked, "How are her hands?"

"Look for yourself." He gestured to the large bloodstain on his pants.

"You were in there, what 5 minutes? That's bad." Clint pointed out.

"I better get in there before she bleeds out." Bruce stated.

"I wouldn't. She's throwing tables. Tables, Bruce. I don't think she wants to see anyone right now." Tony told him.

"Well I'm going to anyway." With that, Bruce left to get his medical supplies.

Stage 3: Bargaining

**POV Change**

Why were you so angry? It wasn't their fault he was dead. It was yours. Before you could finish that thought, someone opened the door. Thinking it was Tony again, poised the lamp ready to mentally throw it at him.

The person must have known you would do that because they said, "Hold your fire. It's just me, Bruce. I'm coming in to look at your hands. That's it then I'll leave."

You thought about this for a minute, then decided to let him. "Okay." You sighed.

Bruce came in slowly, avoiding the shattered remains of both the lamp and

the table. He kneeled down in front of you and examined your hands.

He frowned. Then he looked up at you, "I'm going to clean this off to get a better look at the actual cuts okay?"

You nodded. He took out an alcohol swab and dabbed the blood off your hands. You noticed how gentle he was and you filed that away for future use. Then your cuts started to sting. A lot actually, but you didn't react. Not even a twitch.

"It's not as bad as it looks. The cuts are deep but not enough to require stitches and there aren't any pieces of the bowl in your hand so that's a plus. So I'll just finish disinfecting and bandage them."

You two sat in silence for a moment. Then you spoke, "It's my fault."

"What?"

"It's my fault he died." You said without emotion.

"No its not." Bruce said gently.

"Yes it is, Bruce. He was almost done with his tour and he got the opportunity to come home early. I told him to do what he wanted to. Of course, he wanted to finish it out. He asked if I was okay with that. I wasn't, but I told him that it was. I said yes, Bruce. I signed his death sentence!" You said on the verge of tears.

Bruce finished bandaging your hands. You immediately stood up and so did Bruce. "I'm going to lay down for a little while."

"(Name)..." Bruce said gently.

"I don't want to yell at you Bruce. So, please leave." Your voice cracked at the end. You walked over to the bed. As soon as the door to your room closed, you collapsed on the bed and sobbed.

Stage 4: Depression

**POV Change**

Tony was at the end of his rope. You hadn't left your room in a week. The only time you left was to use the bathroom. That was it. You didn't come out of your room to eat, and the food they brought in for you lay untouched, except for the one occasional bite here and there.

You wouldn't talk to anyone. You just lay in bed, staring at the curtained window. Tony would come in to try and talk to you, but to no avail. Steve didn't get any responses either. The only thing he got you do was to start crying again, which seemed to be the only thing you would do. Natasha got no response. Clint got the occasional Turkey sandwich flying at him due to his idiotic comments and also got you to cry as well.

When Bruce went in there to change your bandages every once and a while. He seemed to be the only one who could get you to do things. He got you to shower and eat more than a bite of food. But no talking. Just a lot of crying.

It seemed nothing would get you out of your depression. He didn't know what else to do. True, he was expecting the phone call about (Brother's Name) since the day he enlisted, but this hit you harder. He meant the world to you just as you meant the world to both (Brother's Name) and Tony himself. What could he do to help you?

Stage 5: Acceptance

**POV Change**

You lay there wallowing in the pain and misery your memories caused. You couldn't bring yourself to get up.

There was a knock on your door. Bruce peeked his head, "(Name), there's a package and I think you should come out and open it."

You lay in the bed, unmoving.

"Please?" Bruce asked with sincerity.

You sighed, but stood up slowly. You stood there for a minute, letting yourself adjust to your change in position. Then, for the first time in a week, you truly left your room.

When you left the room, you squinted at the sudden change of light. You walked to the living room where everyone else was sitting. They looked at you. They didn't dare move or even breathe, afraid you would scamper of like a forest animal.

In the middle of the floor, was a large package. You kneeled beside it. You tore it open and in it were various items of clothing, magazines and books, and sitting in top were a pair of dogtags.

This was your brother's stuff.

You picked up the dogtags. That's when it hit you. He was really gone. Tears escaped before you could stop them. You almost gave into them when a voice in your head told you, 'Crying won't bring him back. Stop this. Pull yourself together.'

You did just that. You stood up and went to clean yourself up.

~~~Time Skip~~~

After you showered, got dressed and brushed your hair, you went back to the living room where the group was still sitting.

They stood up when they saw your appearance. You smiled, "Wallowing in misery won't bring him back." Was all you said.

They all smiled, happy to finally have you back.

Suddenly, their phones went off.

"Fury wants us on the helicarrier. Something about a potential terrorist attack." Steve stated.

They hurriedly got ready. And so did you.