Chapter 19

A few day later, I left the hospital with my left arm in a sling, and my right calf bandaged to protect the now-scarring bite.

"Are you sure you don't need a wheelchair?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, dad, I am sure. Not mortally wounded."

He frowns. "Alright, if you are 100% sure…"

I sigh as he opens the car door for me and helps me in before climbing in the driver's side and starting the car.

The ride home is silent, save for the quiet rock blasting through the radio, giving me time to contemplate on my hospital stay.

When I first came to, I learned that my left shoulder was dislocated and required a sling for the next week and a half and my right leg would have some new scarring from the wolf bite that caused me to go underwater.

One of the first things I learned upon gaining consciousness was that Loki Laufreyson was pronounced dead by Bruce as soon as he de-Hulked.

Thor was hit by the news, and he stayed silent and almost brooding. When he came to visit me, he would often trail off and stare at a wall, his mind somewhere far, far away. When questioned, he put on a straight face and said that it was all for the best, that his brother was too far gone to help.

Steve, Bruce, Natasha, and my dad all just took the news blatantly, not elated that he was dead but not all that disappointed either. Nobody blamed them.

I wish I was that indifferent.

I had killed someone with my own two hands. When someone was struck by a missile or repulsor beam, it felt different. Like, these are bad guys, and it's not like I cared, and it's technically the missiles fault.

With Loki, I struck him down with only my hands. I saw the light fade from his bottle green eyes. I was less than a foot away as his life flashed before his eyes. And I knew that I was directly responsible.

Don't get me wrong, I don't regret ridding the world of his evil.

But he was human – er, god – and my teammate's brother. And I killed him.

I sigh and rub my prosthetic over my face, savoring the feel of the cool metal.

As if that wasn't enough, Clint hadn't been seen since he disappeared during the battle, and I was out of my mind with worry. What if he died? What if he was hurt? What if Loki took him over? What if-

"Taylor, we're here."

I blink at my dad as he opens the car door, my mind lazily absorbing the information that I was looking at the Avengers Tower.

I haul myself out of the car and nod at the doorman as he holds the door.

I take two steps into the lobby and freeze.

My boyfriend was pacing by the elevator, alive and seemingly unharmed.

It takes about two seconds for him to see me before we're running at each other, just like in the movies, and I'm swept off my feet and spun around.

Once I come to a standstill, I promptly smack Clint in the arm with my non-injured hand. Apparently hard too, because he actually winces and goes to rub his arm.

"Um, ow? Taylor-"

"Don't you 'Taylor' me, Clinton Francis Barton! What in the nine realms possessed you to disappear in the middle of a battle, no word to anyone, and not show up for days? Days, Clint. No visits in the hospital, no 'hey! I'm alive!' texts, no calls…" I take a deep breath and try and swallow over the lump that has quickly formed in my throat. "Do you know how worried I was? I didn't know if you were injured, I didn't know where you were. I thought you were dead Clint, and I don't want you dead, Clint…I…I…" at this point I'm gasping and whimpering, barely coherent as tear spill down my face.

And then I'm swept up again as Clint pulls me close, loops his arms around my waist, kisses me, and holds me while I sob my eyes out into his neck, all the while murmuring apologies into my hair.

Eventually the tears subside, and I just stand there, encircled by his arms, as Clint offers his side of the story.

"I know, shhh, I know. I'm sorry, baby, god I'm sorry. Everything moved so fast on the field, and a part of my brain was always on you, but by the time Loki went down I was too far away from the majority of the team and I called a separate jet for extraction, and then I was whisked to the hospital without my opinion being given. As soon as I got out I tried to call, but you didn't answer, so I came straight here. Am I forgiven?"

I nod silently against his chest. He hugs me before stepping back and lacing our fingers together. "The team is waiting upstairs, shall we grace them with our presence?"

"We shall." I loop my arm through his as I glance behind me at my dad, who I had forgotten was still there. He was watching this whole scene with a small smile that he keeps as he enters the elevator after us.

The team is, in fact, waiting excitedly in the living room as we exit the elevator.

I'm smothered by Russian assassin before I can do anything.

"Vorobey, I was so worried! Are you okay? Physically and mentally? What happened to your arm? Are-"

"Tasha!" I lay my right arm firmly on her shoulder. "Breathe. I'm okay. Bruised physically and mentally, but okay, I swear. My shoulder got dislocated during the battle, that's all."

Natasha takes a deep breath and I can see the tension melt out of her shoulders. "Okay. We got cake!"

I look over her shoulder to see Steve, Bruce, and Thor gathered around a cake. Each inch or so of the side was a different color, either blue for Steve, green for Bruce, purple for Clint, silver for Thor, gold for my dad, red for Natasha, or black for me. As I got closer to the cake I could see that the top was adorned with the words 'Avengers are Awesome!' in red.

I laugh as the rest of the team gives me hugs and shows their relief at my well-being.

The cake is eventually cut, and I take my plate, letting my dad ruffle my hair and ducking the icing Clint tries to smear on my nose.

The room is filled with booming laughter and banter, everyone talking to at least one other person, and not a melancholy thought in the room.

Loki said some very barbed things before he died.

He called me a mistake.

The only mistake there was him saying what he did.

Because yeah, I am a genius, but I don't know everything.

And I've realized that I don't need to.

I can take whatever life throws my way because I have the best people in the world backing me.

A/N

Last chapter, guys. Sorry this book was so short, but I didn't have the whole prosthetic/reactor hospital thing to fill like I did last time.

This is not the last you will see of these characters. I'm planning a series of one shots.

Like one focused entirely on both sides of Clint + Taylor.

And one where Natasha, Taylor, and the rest of the girls get drunk.

And one dabbling in PTSD.

So read and review!

P.S: What do you think of Clint calling Taylor 'baby' and Taylor occasionally calling Clint 'sweetie'?