A Mistake
You see Steve, Nat, and Clint jump into the mix as well, fighting off the armed people.
You're in the middle of it and you have no idea what to do.
The cases. The cases. The gimmicks.
That's what you do; you go after one of the men holding a case, knocking him to the floor with your foot and snatching the case.
There's about four cases in total, you deduce, looking between all the men fighting your team.
You manage to grab another case from another guy, knocking him out with the butt of your gun.
A loud bang rung in your ear and you grimaced, holding a hand to your ear that pounded. A gunshot had gone off a bit too close to your eardrum.
You maneuvered around the chaos, looking for the last two cases.
Then you feel a major jolt backwards and your arm burning in pain. You let out a hiss, ignoring the bearable pain for now.
And, despite the heat of the battle, you all manage to safely knock out and defeat all of these men.
Steve and Nat tie the hands of them with zip ties.
"What... was that?!" Steve starts, looking at you, angry. "We were supposed to stick to the plan!"
But you hadn't known the plan.
"You could've gotten us all killed," he yells. "What did you think that signal meant?!"
Steve had a right to be angry, you know that, but why was he yelling like that and looking at you like that. Was it hatred? Did he hate you? He hated you for that, didn't he?
Your eyes threatened to burn with tears when he continued to go on about you not following the plan you didn't know.
You feel the urge to cut. Punish yourself for being so incompetent, so stupid. What had happened? You weren't here anymore -- why weren't you here? Why didn't you hear anything, understand it?
"Steve," Natasha snapped, and you back up from the group, trying to hold yourself together. "It was in the heat of the battle, cut them some slack. It's hard to keep your cool under this much pressure, especially when you're going to react like this."
Steve takes a deep breath, looking at you intensely. "I'm sorry, but you realize you could've gotten yourself -- gotten us all -- killed? You have to stick to the plan, y/n."
You nod, blinking rapidly. Would it have been so bad if you had died? Would he really miss you -- would anybody really miss you? If anything, you would've just been out of their hair, safely six feet under and away from the chance to be the cause of dangerous situations.
Clint walked past you and patted your shoulder reassuringly. The rest of the team followed him back to the car.
You stood there a little longer, hearing the police sirens.
Your arm ached painfully. You looked down at it and saw a gunshot through your suit. You grimaced and held a hand over the wound, feeling the blood seep out.
You can't tell anybody about that. If you let anybody look at it, they'd probably put you in a hospital gown, see your other scars.
You sigh.
You walked back to the car eventually, passing by Steve, talking to an officer.