You hate hospitals.

You're made to stay for two weeks; lounging in your own bed with Theo sounds much more appealing but Maria won't leave you alone with him while your ribs are healing.

You know she's angry at you; she's grateful you're alive and hoping your child won't learn to be so stubborn.

You're released to the Tower only because of JARVIS and you are met with a round of hooray's and gentle hugs.

You smile politely; May calls you brave, Tony calls you stupid, Bruce is just glad you're alive and Thor is too busy wiggling a finger on Theo's belly.

Your chest stings; Skye calls you friend, Steve calls you family, Coulson calls you daughter, Clint calls you his best friend.

You break down the moment you are alone; Maria calls you the love of her life and Theo's mama and you're in tears and begging for forgiveness.

She holds you while you cry; your ribs sting but they're not on fire.

You spend your first day of unofficial freedom is spent lazying around with your wife in bed; the village downstairs watching your son.

When she drags you into the shower she examines you; your ribs are still coloured darkly and a there are healed scratch marks across your back.

You feel her smirk against your lips under the hot spray.

You end up cuddling on the couch and falling asleep; there's the smell of food in the kitchen that wakes you.

And the hungry baby crying for a bottle.

One is thrust into your hand and you swing yourself from side to side gently outside the kitchen; you smile as he sucks greedily and promptly falls asleep.

You're Natasha Hill and you're not sure where the time has gone; you used to be nervous but now you revel in the normalcy of married life and parenthood.

You mutter something about his sleeping habits; your wife hits you with a tea towel for noting the similarity.

You wink.

She laughs.

You kiss her.

She kisses you back.

You're happy.