Thread: Human Connection [Avengers -- Sprouts & Virginia]

Theresa had ditched most of her things in several different places on the way back, but kept her black windbreaker. It helped hide the blood that she could feel spreading in several places on the shirt underneath, wet and a little too familiar. Wasn't always hers, but she knew it well. The amount of pain she was in was a warning sign. Not the worst experience of her life, but she knew she needed to get home. One hand was shoved in the pocket of her jacket because otherwise she was in danger of leaving droplets of blood behind as t hey rolled down her fingers from the defensive wounds on her forearm. Her other hand was pressed to her abdomen over the water resistant fabric to keep pressure on the much more pressing injury. She should probably have left the knife in, but there as no way to hide that. A little extra danger was favored over blowing her cover. She'd stumbled the mile back to her apartment building like that, flashing a friendly smile at the two people who'd given her concerned looks. There was always someone out there who cared about other people and was willing to go out of their way even when she was giving off the most serious 'leave me alone' vibes that were probably possible without some kind of superhuman enhancement, so she had started being distantly nice and mastered a friendly but busy sort of expression and posture. It was a mimicry of thing she hadn't really felt in a long time. A mask slapped on while her mind was elsewhere. Even now, when the pain was intense and impossible to ignore, she was running over the fight in her head while she walked and noting all the points where she'd done things wrong. It had been fine at first She'd caught them following Bruce and diverted the three men to a place where she'd be able to handle things without distraction or civilian danger. There were a million excuses she could have given about how things had ended up this way, but none of them were any good. At the end of the day this was because she had made mistakes and nothing before the fight mattered. One of them had gotten away as well, which meant that they'd be back. It meant that they'd know someone was protecting the Hulk. The game was going to change, and she might not have time to heal before she had to deal with it. The apartment's staircase railing was rough and in general she tried to avoid touching it because splinters were kind of the worst even when compared to some of the things she'd been through. Right now though she needed to put more weight on it than she'd like to admit so that she could drag herself up the stairs. Things had been getting a little bleary and occasionally spotted black for the last five minutes or so, but that... wasn't a huge problem. She just needed to make it up into her apartment and she could handle it. The stairs in front of her tilted and warped, but she pushed it back the same way she always did and shook her head sharply. In her apartment were medical supplies appropriate for the job she'd been given, including equipment to stitch herself back together again. It was just a flight of stairs between her and her goal. This was fine. Things would -- Her knees buckled, and by the time she hit the floor the little brown haired woman was unconscious. A small smear of blood traced the trajectory of her fall, left because she'd tried to keep herself upright by putting a hand on the wall until she could no longer fight the demands of her body. She had some ghost of a memory of being picked up, and only knew that it had truly happened because things smelled different. It didn't smell like the hall or her apartment, and it definitely wasn't a hospital. Everything still hurt, which was a pretty good way to tell that she wasn't dead yet, and Theresa forced her eyes open slightly only to shut them immediately afterwards like somehow that would make what she'd seen go away. She was in Bruce's apartment, something she knew only because she had let herself in on one occasion to make sure that she'd be able to protect him in it if things got bad. Fuck. Shit, fuck, and another fuck after that. Her face stayed passive and her breathing stayed slow and calm in mimicry of sleep while the SHIELD agent considered her options. It was far too late for rolling onto the floor and leaping out the window to do any kind of good, so she was going to have to come up with another plan. After a few more seconds of careful fakery the woman opened her eyes again and immediately let out a gasp of distress and started trying to sit up. She could have managed it if she wanted, but a normal person wasn't going to try and truck through that pain so she got a few inches up and then groaned and let herself fall back again. That would get her some worried sympathy and summon the doctor from wherever he was.