𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 | p.p. x reader | book two.

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟

Clint didn't speak, he didn't really even look up. He just stood there, staring at the ground. I said it again. 

"Clint, where did Nat go?"
Yet again, he didn't say anything. It took me a minute; it took all of us a minute to realize why he wasn't speaking. I involuntarily took a step back, stumbling over myself as I tried to reach out for anything behind me to keep myself steady. 

"I couldn't stop her."

I felt the physical pain before the emotions hit me. It was like a fire had been lit in my stomach, warming up with each moment that passed. It spread in my arms, making my fingertips tingle before heating up so hot it hurt. It spread to my feet, making it hard to stand. It spread to my head, making it hard to even think. I closed my eyes, trying to keep myself standing on two feet, but it only made it worse. I could feel myself shorting out again, unable to control the bursts of energy that would no doubt be sprouting from my body in a matter of minutes. Usually I could find something, someone, to ground myself onto but there's nobody. I had nobody.

"Bullshit." The words came out of my mouth before I meant to say them. My body was working on it's own now, saying anything that came to mind and moving in any way that it wanted. I clenched my fist tighter in an attempt to stop from doing anything too drastic. 
"Y/N-" I don't even know who said it.
"There is always more you could have done. You just didn't fucking try hard enough, and now she's gone."
"She sacrificed herself, there was nothing I could do."
"What are you just saying that to make yourself feel better? Tell yourself that you did everything that you could but it would have happened anyway? That it was such a noble fucking sacrifice it doesn't matter? Huh?"
"Y/N, calm down-"
"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" 

The sound of blown bulbs echoed off the walls of the hangar, sparks flying in every direction. My body shook, vision blurry-maybe from the tears, maybe the electricity shorting out the neurons. My heart beat sped up and it became harder and harder to breathe with every passing minute. The words that came out of my mouth were shaky and broken, and to be honest, they didn't even sound like mine.

"Don't tell me to calm down when I just lost my mom for the second time." My voice was quieter than I expected it to be. "You guys have no idea what my life has been like the past 7 years. I have been shit on by the universe in about a million different ways and I have every damn right to be upset about it. I have lost my brother. I've lost my mom. I lost my dad and my best friend in one fell swoop. I almost fucking died! And now you stand here and tell me not to get upset when one of the only people I have left leaves me?! I don't give a shit if I burn the whole world down because what the fuck has it ever done for me!?"

I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know what I was saying, or the point I was trying to get across. Maybe I was just trying to get the frustration out. 
Nobody said anything to me. Everyone just stayed quiet.

"She...She was there for me. She did everything that she could to make me feel like I had a home, like I had people who cared. She made me lunch, she did my laundry, she held me when I cried. She asked me about my day and she let me cry on her shoulder when I was missing my family. She took me clothes shopping, helped me paint my apartment, hell she even told me bedtime stories when I couldn't sleep. She taught me how to deal with nightmares and she laughed with me and she cried with me and she told me it was okay to feel a little sad sometimes as long as you didn't let it consume you. But now I don't...I don't know how to not let it consume me. So please, please don't tell me to calm down. Because I don't even know if I can."

Nobody really said anything when I left the room, and nobody followed me out. I just walked, walked down hallway after hallway, room after room, until I stood in front of a familiar door. When I opened it, I found it hard to breathe again. 

Her room looked untouched. The sheets were made to perfection, not a wrinkle or crease. A few dirty cups layed around the room, one or two dirty plates laying on the nightstand. The things adorning the top of the dresser made an organized clutter, mementos of a life it seemed she was either trying to forget or desperately hang onto. Pictures layed in frames, most of them turned downwards and lying face down on whatever surface they layed on. All of her clothes were neatly hung up on hangers in the closet, organized meticulously to fit as perfectly as possible. I sat down on the bed, staring off at the wall. 

I caught the reflection of myself in the mirror on the wall in front of me. 

I was still wearing the quantum suit, suddenly feeling uncomfortably tight against my body, like it was suffocating me. I took it off, leaving me in my tight black undersuit. The more I looked in the mirror, the more it looked like something was off. My face was different and my hair was shorter. I pulled out my phone and compared the image in front of me to a picture from 5 years ago, and I sighed. 

Here we were, thinking the paradox wouldn't change anything, and now I'm back to being stuck in my 16 year old body.

For some reason, it brought back a memory.

I buried my face in the pillow, crying into it so loud the fabric didn't seem to really muffle it. The nightmares had been so terrible I had woken up shaking, unable to breathe with my heart racing out of my chest. I wasn't able to catch my bearings, sobbing so hard I had thrown up allover the floor. I was a complete mess, tears streaming down my face in tracks, throat hoarse from screaming and crying. 

I heard the door open behind me, light streaming in through the newfound crack in the door. It closed soon after, footsteps getting closer to the bed. They were soft and quiet, the person making them trying their best not to be too loud. A soft hand touched my back, rubbing up and down my shoulder blade.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Natasha whispered the words, voice soft and caring. She let her hand rest on my upper back, waiting for me to stop sobbing and sit up. After a minute of collecting myself, I finally sat up, wiping the tears from my eyes and trying to catch my breath. "What happened?"

"I-I woke up, and-and I couldn't breathe, and then I started cr-crying but I threw up and, oh god."
"It's alright, just calm down. Why don't you go hop in the shower and then we'll get you some new pajamas and clean all this up okay? You can't run on no sleep."

I just nodded, trying to stand up on unsteady feet and make my way to the bathroom. I stripped off the vomit stained pajamas I had been wearing and got into the shower, keeping the water warm and rinsing off the gunk that seemed to coat every inch of my body. When I got out, a fresh new pair of pajamas layed folded on the counter, as did a new tooth brush and a glass of water.

The pajamas smelled like laundry detergent and were still warm from the dryer, calming me down almost instantly. I brushed my teeth and carried the water out into the bedroom with me, placing it down on the bedside table. When I climbed back into the bed Natasha was scrubbing the carpet, laying down a thick towel and dumping the bucket of dirty water down the shower drain. She left a clean bucket by my bed before sitting down. 

"Try to get some sleep, okay? Trust me, it'll all be okay in the morning."
"What if I wake up again?"
"Trust me, I'll be right down the hall. All you have to do is call out my name and I'll come running."

I laid my head down on the pillow, sinking in to the soft plush comforter that rested on the bed. I let the tears fall down my cheek as I stared up at the ceiling, hands gripping the blanket so hard my knuckles turned white. My heart started to beat too fast, and my stomach turned over in knots. I leaned over the side of the bed and threw up, two, maybe three times before my body finally got too tired to heave anymore. With a shaky voice, I called out.

"Natasha?"

But this time, the door didn't open. This time, nobody came running.