#letsgetoutalive

Your latest mission with The Avengers was pretty cut and dry.  Get in, find the Intel – which happened to be a who, a computer hacker from Des Moines – not a what, get out. Engage, disengage, knock out the bad guys that got in your way. That part tended to be Bruce, Tony, Steve, and Bucky’s MO, while you used your ability to stop time and thus freeze what was happening around you to assist in the mayhem that was a standard Shield operation.

What you tended to avoid were the thoughts that Hydra would also be there, maybe two steps ahead, as it was in your best interest to avoid those thoughts.  No one on the team knew, but when you had been captured along with Bucky two months back, your anxiety and panic attacks had come back.  You supposed water boarding, electric shock, and regular beatings would be the prime cause of the resurgence of your attacks.

The Avengers loved having you around; you had a great personality, kick ass powers, honestly, who else could make time stand still with just a single focused thought and the extension of hands?

You had stopped many complications; Tony was nearly decapitated by one of his many “projects” in the lab and if it weren’t for FRIDAY’s alert and your controlled focus on the robotics, Tony would probably still be a pain in the ass even without a head.

Natasha was mid-flight on her motorcycle as a stinger was directed her way, nearly rendering her unconscious. With your powers, you were able to freeze the attempted kill, and by the time you released your hold on her, Steve’s shield was in place to deflect the stinger, causing it to explode mid-air in a plume of smoke. Natasha landed safely, burning rubber to get to the next bad guy.

Today though, in sauntered Hans, one of Hydra’s henchmen; the same man that had relentlessly tortured you months ago.  The same man now looked at you with predatory eyes, approaching the line of Avengers who had your back.  All you had to do was cease his movements, stop him from taking another step as he raised his Luger towards you, but as you raised your own hands in preparation to stop the bullet, you recalled Bucky’s screams from that night. You felt yourself choking on water, unable to move on the table. Reflexively, you felt your body tense and retract into itself, beads of sweat lining your brow. Not from exertion, no, there wasn’t much to exert. You had blinked, and the gun went off, bullet whizzing through the air.

“No!”

You screamed in anguish. This can’t be happening, not here, not now, not when your team needed you the most, but the shaking of your limbs, twitching of your fingers, the numbness creeping down your jaw to your left arm, the detached feeling that you were powerless against the enemy caused you to freeze. Your hands dropped, the bullet mere millimeters from striking your chest plate, and the anguished cry of Bucky as he jumped and tossed you to the side like a rag doll was the last you heard.

All the fear, panic, all the anxiety about losing control of the uncontrollable had finally resurfaced, and had gotten Bucky shot.

Tiny lights flickered over your opened eyes. You blinked, realizing Bruce and his tiny penlight were to blame, checking you over for injuries or concussion.

You had always cared about Bucky, and his strength was something that you had always considered when in the field, like when he tossed you out of the way, but lately you had been stewing on what that strength would do in a less professional relationship. The mere size of Barnes made you wonder if he’d snap you in half like a twig.

Bucky.

“Bucky!” You shot up, rather tried to, but your arms were anchored to the table, straps over your chest.  You kicked your feet in frustration.

“Hey, hey, calm down YNN.” Bruce injected a syringe of something into your neck. “This is going to subdue your attacks for now. Tony’s working on something more stable, more…fashionable.”

“Where. Is. Bucky,” you grit out before the sedative had a chance to kick in. As if on cue, in he walked, non-metal arm in a sling, alive. You squinted up at him. “How are you not in a bed like me?”

“Super strength and healing, Doll,” he reassured you. “Rest, we’ll talk logistics later.”

“I’m so sorry, Buck, it’s all my fault, everything I touch turns to ash,” you mumbled as the sedative took hold. “I…wish…I…had…,” you dozed off, “control.”

Two days later you had woken up in your own room in Stark Tower, redressed in yoga pants, a tank top – sans bra – and when you went to lift your hands to rub the much needed sleep from your eyes, you noticed two slender metal cuffs on both wrists.

“What the f-?” anxious, you fought to tear them off, trying to yank them over your slender wrists. When you did, a tiny shock traversed through your body, and the anxiousness you were feeling slowly ebbing away.

“Hey, there, Panic.” Tony walked into your room, holding something under one arm, carrying a breakfast tray in both hands.  

“Har, har, Metal Head,” you snarked. “So I guess now everyone knows I’m just as much a freak as the ones Shield tries to apprehend.”

“Don’t worry, Coulson has no desire to commandeer you for his team of misfits. You’re stickin’ with us, Panic.” You sighed at the nickname.

“Tony, can you not call me that, please?”

“Why not,” he shrugged with a glimmer in his eyes, “it fits, just like my uniform is made of…,” he silenced himself, because he knew it was not made of Iron.  

“Right, well my panic attacks don’t define me, Tony,” you side-eyed him, annoyed.

“You’re right, but they did almost get you killed,” Tony’s voice was hushed, laced with concern, a rarity for him. He was always there for you, and it was evident in his eyes that he wondered just how long you had kept this secret from him.  He looked to you as the sister he never wanted, but was blessed with anyway.

“I almost got Bucky killed,” you whispered. “What if it was Natasha, or Wanda? They don’t have super strength,” you chided yourself. “There’d be no coming back from that, Tony.” You could feel the anxiety strangling your thoughts, all the what ifs, the endless possibilities of incoming fears and struggles, and suddenly the wrist guards shocked you twice, the second one almost sending you into convulsions.  Tony was quick to your bedside, the breakfast table knocked over, coffee and waffles staining your comforter.  

“Hey, YNN, hey, it’ll be okay,” Tony took you in his arms and rocked you as you sobbed, “I’ll have to reconfigure those cuffs for you, but in the meantime, I have this shirt, it’s like a compression vest they use on children with special needs, pretty much a huge hug in all the right places.”

“It won’t shock the shit outta me will it, Tony?” you sniffed into his t-shirt, “because that really sucked.”

“No, YNN, it’ll just feel like this,” and he held you tight, your chest pressing against his. The feeling of warmth and security quickly pushed the negative thoughts to the nether realm.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky and Steve had been standing outside your bedroom door when they heard your screams. Bucky held his breath as he watched Tony hold you close and Steve noticed the rigidness in his stance.

“She’s in good hands, pal,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “but I’m bettin’ you’d rather her be in yours, huh?”

“Let it go, Rogers,” Bucky snapped and cradled his good arm to his chest, hating that you were going through this mental torture.

Three missions out and you had yet to get back in the field, despite everyone trying to recruit you. Natasha even promised that you could fly the Quinjet, but you could see straight through her. You knew they wanted the best for you, but you were suffocated by the fear that your panic would take over and that next time, your teammates wouldn’t survive.

The compression shirt, or HAC as Tony called it (since Hugs and Cuddles just didn’t sound superheroish enough), was working, you’d give him that.  You still wore the cuffs, now recalibrated to a milder shock level, and coupled with the shirt, you were getting better at stopping time.

Bucky took it upon himself to help you recover. Who better, he thought, than the person you had been tortured with all those months back?

You were both sparring in the training room, when out of the corner of your eye you saw Steve toss his shield towards Bucky. The metal disc whizzed through the air, straight for his head.  You stretched out your hands on instinct, a blue current of light flickered from the cuffs – a new addition to your powers – and you concentrated on the flying saucer.

Everyone and everything around you stilled and as you walked slowly towards the impeding disc. With one hand you flicked it aside, the other keeping Bucky and Steve frozen.  

Once the shield was falling to the mats, you released the two Avengers from your hold.

“Nice work, Doll.” Bucky surprised you with a hug that lifted you off the ground, and before he tossed you over his shoulder you saw a smirk on Steve’s face.

“Why Bucky?” you asked.

“You owed him a save, YNN,” Steve smiled as Bucky put you down. You leaned down and tossed him his shield.  "What better way to see if you could do it than when you were distracted, am I right?“

“As always, Cap,” you were smug, but grateful.

“I see Panic is suited up,” Tony ambled in, his armor glistening.

“Tony, what did I tell you about that nickname?” you felt the anxiousness rising, but with Bucky’s presence and HAC, you breathed in and out and calmed.

“Reclaim it, own it, kid,” he instructed. “It may not be who you are, but it sure makes you one hell of a team player!”

“Just like I’m ‘The Winter Soldier’, ” Bucky chimed in, “but without the brainwashing psycho crap.”

“So what do you say, Doll,” Steve approached you, hand extended, “shall we get this show on the road?”

“I thought it was ‘Avengers Assemble’”, you winked and he grinned broadly.

“Natasha has the Quinjet prepped and fueled. How about we assemble outside, that is, if you’re up to a mission, Panic?” You grinned.

“Let’s do this.” You sprinted towards the exit with the trio of men behind you. “One day at a time, YN,” you said aloud, “One day at a time.”

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A while ago I was scrolling through Tumblr when one post caught my attention. It read, “If you are ever having a bad day, text me.” and it was written by Allie. The post seemed small, but it was cute and kind, and I could see how far it could go. I mean, just the thought that if anyone was down, they always had someone to go to. It helps so much to be able to let go and speak to someone, and most times it’s easier to do that online. What people don’t see, however, is how hard and painful it can be to be the person listening. It hurts to expose yourself to everyone’s pain, especially when there is often times nothing you can do.

But nevertheless, Allie​ was there for me and so many others...

About two weeks after I read that post, stuff - lots of stuff - happened, and it continued to happen. I was depressed, horribly, and very much not-good thoughts filled my head. But I couldn’t speak to anyone in real life because I didn’t want to be a bother, and I couldn’t even bring myself to drop my problems on any of my online friends. Friends I had talked to for years, and I wasn’t comfortable enough to tell them. But one night texting with Allie was enough to prove to me that she really cares about people’s problems, even those of whom she had never once meet in person.

I sent her a message. And, to my surprise, she answered. I told her what was going on, and to my surprise, she cared. I’ll spare everyone reading this the depressed and over-angsty details, but in a few short hours, she helped- no. In a few short hours, she saved me. Heaven knows how many others she saved too. I’d also like to point out two posts: This one, her saying she’s willing to help other win, and this one, her being nominated by another soul (whom of which I’d suggest you read their story as well).

And one more point before I go. This all (my story) happened a good six months ago, and from there, not only have I been more confident and loving in myself, and she inspired me to pay it forward and help others, but I still remember - in detail - how caring, loving, and supportive Allie was to a lost girl who - in truth - had only used her.