Chapter Text
“Romanoff, Status?” Steve asked, waiting for her confirmation to execute the final stage of the mission.
“Romanoff?” He repeated, glancing warily at his surroundings: in a few minutes the enemy agents would be alerted of their presence and would not hesitate to attack them - no matter how well Natasha could take her way out of things.
“Romanoff?” Steve said urgently, “Natasha?”
Loud, uneven breaths filled his ear before a quiet ‘go-code’ was uttered. Immediately, Steve got into place, calling for backup as he did so and making sure they could finish their mission smoothly.
Natasha was in his sight within the next few minutes, shakily going through the motions of what was expected of her.
It wasn’t easy, but they managed to get out of the base without being caught. Steve watched Natasha clamber onto the quinjet, surveying their surroundings once more.
“Natasha?” Steve questioned, eyeing Natasha. She wasn’t acting in any specific way to alert Steve anything might be wrong, but she seemed jittery and unbalanced. “Yeah?” She replied evenly and sat down on a nearby seat. Steve mirrored her, sitting by her side. “Are you okay?” He questioned.
“Fine,” She said, the confidence in her voice contradicting her current body language. “You didn’t get hit with the-”
“No… I’m fine, Steve. Really.”
He nodded, not sure what else he could do. Even if Natasha was injured, she wouldn’t go to medical, no matter how much he advised her. However, he also knew she wouldn’t risk the mission not going to plan, meaning it was very likely she was in fact hiding an injury. He just had to find it.
His eyes fluttered over her body in a completely clinical way, assessing for any scapes, cuts or stab marks. It was harder to check for breaks and sprains though. The best he could do was ask her to grab something a few metres away - hoping it would reveal her favoriting a certain side, or a limp - which she refused and told him to do it himself.
When they landed twenty minutes later, Steve had given up trying to figure out her injury, though he had still kept an eye on her twitchy movements. “We should head to medical and get checked out before we-”
His voice cut off when he saw Natasha rise from her seat, barely standing for two seconds before her knees suddenly buckled and she was ready to hit the floor. Instantly, he was by her side, intercepting her body's harsh attempt at crashing onto the metal flooring.
“Nat,” he asked, keeping his calm exterior while searching her body for a source of bleeding.
“Nat, I’m going to take you to get looked over by the medical team, okay?” He wasn’t sure if she could hear him or not, her eyes squeezed tight from what he assumed to be pain, though with the way her body was limp in his arms, she could have easily been unconscious.
Still, it felt wrong to not tell her, like he was breaking their unspoken vowel of trust by taking her somewhere she hated, especially while she was vulnerable.
Steve tried to ignore his pounding heart as he carried her through the compound; If Natasha knew how much he was internally freaking out, she would have laughed in his face.
“Is she awake?” The doctor on duty demanded when he came into sight.
“Urm,” he looked down at his partner, her red hair spread wildly across his arms having come undone from its loose braid. The doctor ignored him, directing him to place her on one of the gurneys close by. Steve did as instructed, effortlessly lifting her and placing her on the sterile sheets.
Her eyelids fluttered and she mumbled something incoherent. Steve watched uncertainly as Natasha grew more and more distressed with all the nurses hovering over her. “It’s okay, Nat,” he soothed, unaware how best to comfort her. The doctor asked him a few more questions, which he admittedly didn’t know the answer to, and then wheeled Natasha out of the room.
Clint was the first person he called, telling him everything and anything the man wanted to know. A few minutes later, they were standing face to face.
“Have the doctors said anything yet?” Clint demanded.
“Not yet. She was acting fine.”
“When isn’t she?” Clint retorted.
Steve looked away, “I’m sorry.”
“No… No, it’s not your fault. That’s not what I meant…”
“It’s fine. We’re both just worried… Is there anyone else we should call?”
Clint thought for a moment, thinking about Natasha’s recent interactions with Commander Hill. “Yeah, I’ll call them.” He wasn’t certain exactly when they had become friends - or whatever they were - but he knew that they sparred late at night in the gym and Natasha could occasionally be found in Hill’s office at odd times.
“Commander Hill,” Steve greeted as the woman neared him and Clint. He glanced at Clint questionally. Clint inclined his head slightly, a subtle nod.
“Rogers,” Maria replied, “how is she?”
“We haven’t heard anything yet.”
Maria nodded, wondering if Natasha would even want her here when she woke up. She convinced herself she would, figuring Natasha would overlook their ‘keep our relationship separate from work’ rule since spaces like this triggered Natasha badly, sometimes rendering the woman mute for several hours or igniting the fight in her ‘fight or flight’ response. Maria desperately hoped Natasha wouldn’t fight against the nurses, knowing they were taught to sedate a patient if they showed signs of becoming hostile and a danger to themselves or others.
The doctor appeared an hour forty minutes later, looking somewhat disgruntled. “She’s fine,” they started, looking around at the anxious faces, “it seems that she was injected with something. We’re not sure exactly what, though the effects appear to be short lasting. She’s also fairly dehydrated, so we’ve put her on a drip for now. We’ll keep her here for observation for a few days, but after that she’s good to go.”
They all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“She is acting a bit…”
“She doesn’t like hospital settings,” Maria interjected.
The doctor nodded, “we figured.”
“Is she awake? Can we see her?”
“Yes and Yes. Not all at the same time and be mindful of your volume.”
Maria let Clint and Steve see Natasha first since they were her teammates and most likely witnessed her collapse.
“Hey, Nat,” Clint said, approaching the bed where Natasha was sitting ( no doubt the doctor had told her to stay lying down and she had ignored them).She looked up, blinking a few times until her eyes focused on the two men.
Instinctively, she tried to bring her knees to her chest to her chest, pleased to find she wasn’t restricted in any other ways apart from the wires connecting her to a monitor and drip. Clint saw her gaze shift towards the drip and quickly explained what the doctor had told them.
“You scared me, Nat,” Steve mumbled, locking eyes with the red head. Natasha didn’t offer any words in reply, simply turning her gaze back towards Clint and loosely grabbing for his hand. Clint complied and watched Natasha slowly trace letters onto his palm.
Maria felt like she had been waiting for hours before Clint and Steve walked out the room. “How is she?” Maria pried, trying to gauge what Natasha needed from her. “You can see for yourself; she was asking for you,” Clint replied.
“Tasha,” Maria muttered, taking in the sight of Natasha attached to various wires and tubes. The doctor had promised she was okay, but as Maria looked closer, Natasha seemed to be anything but. Her face was drained of the little colour it usually had and even her hair seemed to be frenzied.
She moved the chair in the corner next to Natasha’s bed and offered her hand. Natasha latched onto it, holding tightly for a few seconds before flipping to Maria’s palm and roughly writing letters. H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L
“We’re with the doctors at Shield. You’re safe here.”
Natasha nodded weakly and wrote another few letters. Y-O-U-C-A-M-E-?
Maria looked at her nervously, “I can leave, if you want me to. I just… wanted to see you were okay.” She chose not to reference the fact she was also there for comfort, knowing Natasha hated people comforting her.
S-T-A-Y-W-I-T-H-M-E-?
“Are you sure you don’t want Clint or Steve to stay with you?”
Natasha nodded again.
“Okay, then.”