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Shattered left radius and broken ulna. Fractured left humerus. Skull fracture. Three cracked ribs. Severe concussion and brain bleed. Ruptured spleen. Internal bleeding in abdomen. First degree burns on 20% of her body. Multiple deep external wounds that all required stitches. Blood loss. Had multiple seizures.
The extent of Wanda's injury's were unimaginable. And she got off lucky….they said. She should've died, they said.
Natasha was pissed to say the least. She wore a constantly angry expression to hide her internal struggle. She was scared, upset, angry and confused all at the same time, and she wasn't used to it. She wan't used to so many…feelings. It didn't take away from the fact that Natasha was angry with Wanda. Angry with herself for not taking care of the girl properly. Angry at herself for her own lack of self-preservation rubbing off on the young witch. Angry about the fact that Wanda was now lying unconscious in the Medical Wing at the Tower.
The ex-assassin watched from the window of Wanda's hospital room. She stared at the girl lying in front of her.
Wanda's face was a lot paler than usual, she looked so much younger and smaller in the big hospital bed. Wires and tubes stuck out from the thin hospital gown she was wearing, and her left arm was encased in a complex, modern looking cast and splint that Tony had created to help heal the multiple breaks faster. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, covering a large amount of her forehead, alongside multiple stitches and dark bruises. A nasal cannula rested at her nose, and a blood pressure cuff was strapped round her uninjured bicep.
Clint was sitting with her in the room, his hand wrapped around her IV-clad one. He didn't like to see her lying alone. Natasha didn't either - but she couldn't face going in there.
It was now that Natasha realised she'd gotten too attached, she'd let her emotions get in the way of a mission, and that resulted in Wanda almost dying. She couldn't shake the sight of the Little Witch, barely conscious and mumbling her name.
Natasha marched away from the hospital wing, and to the shooting range, where she spent most of her time. Gathering up her knives and selected weapons she started throwing them skilfully at the targets.
The knives hit the target with scary precision and a loud thump, slicing through thin air with a slight whistle.
One.
This was all her fault, Wanda almost died.
Two.
She shouldn't have gotten so attached.
Three.
She was weak now. Wanda was her weakness.
Four.
Weak was bad.
Five.
She needs to leave Wanda alone, for the girl's own protection.
Six.
She's a danger to Wanda.
Seven.
This was her fault. She caused this.
Eight.
The image of when she first found Wanda in the rubble plagued her mind, the vibrant red blood covering everything. Natasha walked forward to collect her knives, trying to keep her face stoic.
If only she'd been faster to see what Wanda was doing, if only she'd checked to make sure Wanda had stayed, if only she had stayed and supervised her.
The what ifs increased, Natasha's head was full of things she could've done.
A part of her knew Wanda would heal from this, that she didn't die, that she would be ok. But another part knew it shouldn't have been that close.
Meanwhile, back in the hospital room, Clint was sitting next to Wanda, gripping her hand gently. He saw he girls eyes flutter slightly, revealing blue-green orbs, filled with exhaustion and pain.
"Hey sleepyhead." Clint said, smiling slightly, watching as Wanda adjusted to her surroundings. Everything was still muffled, it felt as though she was just at the surface of water. "You gave us a scare Baby-Venger."
Wanda smiled softly, noticing how the pain was slowly increasing. She looked around and established she was in a hospital room, noticing the various machines she was hooked up to, and the tube at her nose spurting in cool air. She saw her arm encased in a complex, modern looking cast, that looked to be made of some sort of plastic, with hexagonal looking holes - the strangest cast she'd ever seen, she summed up that Tony had made it.
"What…happened?" Wanda said tiredly, her mind was still trying to piece together the events that had resulted in her in a hospital bed, her head and arm was killing, it felt like someone was hammering from the inside of her skull.
"Kid, you contained the bomb at the mall…remember? Blew the place down and you were badly injured. Nasty few breaks and fractures in your arm, pretty bad head injury, burns, internal bleeding - the list goes on kid, we thought we'd lost you for a second, you kept having seizures. We couldn't stop them" Clint said, his eyes saddening for a moment.
Flashes of memories filled her head, the pain. Lying in rubble. A red-haired person telling her to stay awake.
Shit.
Natasha.
Wanda furrowed her brow. "Where's Natasha? Is she alright? Did she get hurt?" the girl said, trying to sit up, but ended up wincing and lying back down.
"Easy kid, easy." Clint said, pushing her gently back on to the bed. "Nat's not hurt. She's at the shooting range. She's not happy with you kiddo. She was really upset when we pulled you out the rubble, and you know Nat - she's guarded with her emotions." Clint said his voice sterner now. "I've never seen her so angry."
Wanda cringed, she'd really fucked up. The very thought of Natasha worrying about her made her embarrassed. Sure, the older woman had been looking out for Wanda the past few weeks, training her, having girls nights, being there when she was having a nightmare and making sure she was eating properly, but she looked up to Natasha, revelled up any praise and hated herself at any criticism.
"Is everyone else alright?" Wanda said, trying to change the subject. Clint chuckled lightly.
"Yeah Wands, everyone's ok. Just worried about you. You were very stupid, but very brave, and you saved a lot of people."
Wanda nodded sleepily, and felt her eyes droop shut.
"Get some rest kid." Clint said quietly, and she let sleep overcome her.