Wake up, soldier. Can you do that for me? You owe me, you know. You can't repay a debt if you're just lying there. And it wasn't even that bad a bullet wound. They've got it out, okay? No vital organs hit, no bones broken - well. Not many. So you know what I think? I think you're just taking some time off. That's fine. Really. That's okay. Sleep for a little while.

Just don't leave me Barton.

Don't leave me Clint.

I remember the first time we worked together. You were such a rookie. With those shades on top of your head, and we looked so young. No lines on our foreheads, around our eyes. Young and indestructible, so no. I did not want to work with you, thank you very much.

Don't take it personally, though. I didn't want to work with anyone. They'd already started calling me Black Widow, and to tell the truth I didn't mind. Not at all.

"You're going South." Fury told us, sitting behind that huge metal desk. He looked younger too, the scar so noticeable from where he'd lost his eye. It's faded a lot now. Too bad the same didn't happen to his temper.

"To do what?" I demanded. I thought you were shy, or angry - I thought that was why you weren't saying anything. But no, you just like to watch the world go by, don't you? You watch, bird brain. Watch and listen.

Anyway, Nick glared at me. He's always doing that.

"To take out an illegal operations plant." He retorted, sliding a file across the desk towards me. I flicked it open, and was greeted by a face I'd hoped to never see again. Keep your face cold Tash, they don't know. Breathe in, breathe in breathe out. Good. "Think you can manage that?"

You were leaning in over my shoulder, your quick fingers flipping through the pages. They weren't as calloused as they are now - you still liked guns then, they hadn't given you your exploding arrows yet.

I just looked at Fury. I'd been with him a few years, he knew I was easily capable.

"Good." He muttered. "How bout you Barton?"

Barton. So that was your name.

You just shrugged.

It made Fury sigh.

"One of these Goddamned days I'm gonna hire agents who can talk." He promised himself, and you smiled slightly. It took me by surprise. Your face had seemed so...empty? and there was this flash of a quicksilver personality. It made me wary. Again, don't take it personally Barton.

The mission went off without a hitch. We worked so well together. Infiltration was a breeze, securing the program - I had no idea it could be that easy. I didn't like it though, something had to go wrong.

"Would you stop doing that?" You asked me. I looked at you as if you were nuts. I was always so poised, so utterly still.

"What?" I demanded.

"You're biting your lip." You pointed out, looking up briefly from where you were cleaning your gun's insides. "And from you, that's practically a meltdown."

I narrowed my eyes at you, but you didn't notice, just looked up for a moment and smiled. We were on the jet headed back to base, I did not appreciate you knowing something about me. It's dangerous. Lives could be lost. Security, love - those things had no part in my life. You know what worried me most? The fact that you could make me laugh. I had trained myself so that death didn't scare me, I'd trained myself to be as hard as stone - and in the past few days I'd spent with you, you'd made me laugh. It had surprised me, and you knew it.

Fury was amazed at debriefing.

"All done in two days," He said, looking over the file again with a low whistle. "I don't know how you've done it guys."

We stayed silent, he sighed. "Brilliance in the field, but communication skills are nil."

"We talk." You told him, and he glared at you. I remember feeling a little smug. Don't worry Rookie - his bark's worse than his bite.

"Yeah? Cuz I ain't seein it." he retorted.

You shrugged and again I wanted to laugh.

"Dismissed." Fury said scratching at his patch. "Get out of my motherfucking office."

You chuckled lightly, heaved your gun onto your shoulder and walked out. Fury looked up a while later, and I was still there. Just standing there.

"What?" He sighed.

"I can't work with Barton." I told him, and I knew there was no room for argument in my voice.

"Goddamn it Romanoff - why?! That was the best mission we've run in years!"

"I," I searched for words. You made me feel vulnerable. You made me feel like I should be on my guard. You saw right through me. "He-" I sighed. "He makes me laugh."

"He makes you laugh?" Fury repeated slowly. But he's a sharp guy - we both now that, right? He knew what I meant.

"Jesus Romanoff, I hate to do this but I'm your commanding officer." He drew himself up a little taller, but he didn't need to. That guy is intimidating, all black leather and gun holsters. "I ain't seen a better match than you and Barton, so swallow your goddamn pride a minute - you're to continue working with him."

I sucked in my lips slightly, nodded shortly and turned on my heel, walking out of his office.

You didn't know that, did you? But you do now. When I feel like shooting someone or something, you know what to say to make me smile a little, to make me laugh. When did you work that out? Somewhere along the long, long line?

God, Clint, you're so pale. I touched your cheek just now, and it's cold. You were always so warm. Remember that time in the Alps? Hiding in the snow? You curled me against you when my lips turned blue, you joked it didn't go with my hair. I slapped you, but I was so, so much warmer.

It's not snowing now, it's raining. Someone put flowers on the window sill, but they're not looking so good. I'd get you new ones but seriously? Me buying you flowers?

Don't go Clint.

We've got so much left to do.

So much left to say.

Please don't go.

I kissed you on the way out last night Clint. I don't know why. You just looked so...small. Small and a little vulnerable, lying there surrounded by beeping equipment, white wall, white curtains.

Don't worry Soldier - I'm not going soft on you.

Your lips were cool under mine, rough with stubble. You haven't shaved in a while. There was none of the heat, none of the hopelessness of Budapest. None of the desperation.

We're a strange pair - we aren't lovers, but we're not just friends, are we? We're partners. We have each other's back.

That kiss... It's what we do when we don't have any other option. It's what we do when we run out of ideas.

Budapest was a beautiful city. All towering spires, canals, rivers, small little cafes with chairs laid out on the cobbled streets. It looked like it belonged on a postcard, but we were there on business.

I can imagine you saying that. You would grin wryly, a little sarcastically. Anyway;

It was home to the hub of Hungary's criminal network, overseen by Dread. SHEILD had secured us exactly 20minutes when their cameras would black out, and then we had to make our move. We had no time for mistakes, no time for hesitation and second thoughts.

But that was fine. We'd done plenty of missions together before then - we worked like clockwork.

But every so often, a cog springs loose.

We'd fought the day before. For two individuals who only speak when they have a point to make - our fights are ugly. Our fights are curse words hurled across the room and deadly calm. When we say something, we mean it. When we hurt someone, it cuts deeply, it scars - because we want it to.

It was over something trivial as well. You'd missed some guy who had me in his sights that week previously, you thought I could have got him myself and didn't want to risk hitting me.

"I can't always pick up your loose ends." You'd said, your voice so cold, so dark. I'd laughed shortly.

"I don't need you at all."

We were sitting in the heli storage on the way to Hungary for drop off. Both of us staring out of our windows, mouths pressed in thin, hard lines.

I sighed, and I think you heard. Either way, you looked over and caught my eye. I'm stubborn Clint, you know that. I am never going to be the one who tries to apologise. But by now you know that too.

"Nat, I-" You started, but I turned away, pretending not to hear you. It was ridiculous, it was childish, but still.

"Oh look. That must be Budapest." I said coldly, looking at the ground below.

"God's sake Nat - if we're going into this then we need to go in as people who trust each other."

I looked at you. I understood. I'd say sorry for being a bitch, but I think you know I don't mean it. I hope so. Wake up and I'll prove it?

"True." I said and it came out quietly. "Forget it, let it go."

You shook your head, a grimace there. "Can't do that."

I looked at you as if you were crazy. "Why not?"

You shrugged. "Not my way."

I smiled appreciatively. "What is your way?"

"I earn trust back."

Thinking back, twenty minutes wasn't long at all. We were so close! But we must have just ran over our safe-time.

Footsteps pounding in the hall.

Heavy breathing.

Shouts and yells.

"They're in Dread's office!"

Your face mirroring mine.

A single thought.

"Out."

We were running so fast, feet barely touching the ground. One of us yelled to split up, and you swung high up onto a rooftop - you would do bird brain - I stayed ground level and sprinted down a Budapest street, need cover, too exposed.

"Nat! On your left!" You yelled through my coms link. I turned on my heel and fired short sharp bursts behind me, the recoil making my arms jolt back.

"10 feet ahead of you there's a parked car. I'm on the other side!"

10 feet really wasn't very far when you're running for your life, and I saw the car within seconds. An old battered estate, abandoned I think.

I leapt over the bonnet and landed beside you. You grinned up at me, reloading your bow, crouched on the ground.

"Nice of you to join me."

I chuckled, looking up to assess the situation.

A stream of black clothed guards, all heavily armed, blocked the alley completely. The only way out would be through them.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I muttered, reloading myself.

"Probably not," You admitted. I looked down and you were staring at my ass. I rolled my eyes.

"Head in the game Barton."

A shot whistled nearby, blasting the cars wing-mirror off.

"I think they're playing to win!" You yelled over the cracks and bangs that followed. That alley was a medley of sparks from guns, noise, screams of civilians - it still comes to me at night sometimes. A nightmare in daytime. I wonder if it does the same for you, Soldier.

Minutes later, but it could have been hours or days, we looked over the wreckage that had been our cover.

Nothing.

The street was deserted. The data that we'd fought for safe in my pocket - every safe house for criminals in Hungary.

"We did it." I breathed, and you nodded eyes wide with relief. Blue eyes, behind your shades. I swear, you're emotionally attached to those.

A final shot, deafening in the stillness, and I cried out, heat spreading through my side.

"Nat!" You released an arrow, barely looking where you were aiming, and someone cried out.

"Nice one."

"Hawk to Heli - Widow's been hit. Emergency evac required. Over."

A buzz from your coms. Roger that.

You knelt beside me and clasped my hand in yours, your brow all creased up.

I rolled my eyes painfully. "It's not that bad Barton. Stop being a mother hen."

Your hand was slick with my blood.

"You're nuts." You told me, gazing down. I tried to push the frown away from your forehead, but I couldn't. I blame lack of blood, okay? I was delusional.

"You're going to be okay, Nat." You promised me, and brought your lips down on mine.

I knew that once the pool of blood gets to be a certain size, you give up. And I knew that the one I was lying in was getting close. So I kissed you back with everything I had, hands clawing chests, digging into hair, trying to make it last that bit longer.

Pretty much the opposite of what just happened in Madrid, isn't it?

It has to be said Barton - you were a fantastic kisser. And if you could hear me, I bet you'd blush. But I don't believe the shit about coma patients understanding everything you say.

You're a medical mystery, Clint. No one knows why you aren't awake. But I think I do. I think it's time off from the constant risk that is our lives. And you always were a bit of a mystery.

But I can't help wondering Clint - which part of Budapest do you remember?

I just talked to your doctor. He says your showing "signs of definite improvement" – increased brain activity, occasional movement in your fingers – he says you might wake up soon.

Part of me can't wait to see you again. Not in the way I have been for the past couple of weeks. I mean when your eyes light up when you see something that excites you, or the way your nose wrinkles when I try and get you to drink tea, or when Tony tries to persuade you that "What you really need is a night out with the lads".

I can't wait to see Clint again.

I can't wait to get back into action. Could take a while though – gunshot wounds take a long time to heal, so it'll be a couple of months before I get another assignment with you.

And if you try and sneak out before you get the all-clear, and I know you Barton, you'll be back in hospital before you can blink. Mild concussion should keep you under lock and key for a little while.

We're staying with Stark at the moment, all of us are. It's until SHEILD decides whether to relocate or try and rebuild the base. I think it was Pepper who got Stark to agree to take us all in, he and Banner lock themselves away for hours in "The Lab" – like kids. It's funny, and nice to have some light hearted banter, but it'll be good to have sanity back. And by that I think I mean you. I'm not sure.

You won't remember any of this, the Doc's pretty sure of that. You won't remember the hours I've sat and just talked these past couple of weeks. I'm not going to tell you either. No, I'm going to act all pleased to have you back – but nothing past a partner.

No loose ends, that way.

I turned away for a minute, and now your foot is poking out from under the blanket. You're awake in there, aren't you? Or at least, more conscious than you are unconscious.

I should really bring work in with me when I come. I don't know how long you're planning on taking to wake up Barton, but I bet it's enough time to read one of the reports that Fury has taken to sending out.

He must be getting old if he's getting organised. Kind of a depressing thought but not half as depressing as the fact that he wants me to keep up with my admin.

The sun came out today – it's warming your bed. You can fall sleep anywhere, it's funny.

But I think you might be onto something there. Wake me when you do.

"Nat."

The dreams always start this way, your voice, your rough hands, your surprised smile.

"Nat?"

Not a dream. Threat? I snapped my eyes open, hand reaching for the holster that wasn't there, remembering with a frustrated breath, still half asleep. Eyes opening wide,

"Clint."

You've fallen asleep again, can't say I blame you. You're so dosed up on painkillers I'm amazed you woke up at all. Let me be hypocritical for a moment, here – when you crumpled, I thought I lost you.

You chewed me out about trying to shoot someone in a hospital – I think you were completely woozy, your words were slurred and your eyes weren't focused. Not that it makes much of a difference. But they were open.

"Nat you can't just go shooting people. When you're in jeans, you're a civvie – you have to act it. When you're out of jeans you're-"

"Naked?"

"I was going to say in kick-ass mode."

"Same difference."

I promised I would stick around until you woke up – but the hospital's kicking me out. Again. I left a message. You might see it, you might not. Good to have you back, Soldier.

A week later...

You're drifting off again, but your bags are packed and you'll be back into the chaos that we call home tomorrow.

We haven't had somewhere to call home in what? 4, 5 years?

Ever since that night in Madrid, it feels as if someone has pressed "pause" on our life and now we're just waiting to start again. You don't remember any of it, you don't remember the oppressive heat, or the thumping of feet or the whir of the 'copter's blades. You don't remember the sniper's sneering face. You didn't even look as you shoot him - it the same split second that he got you. At least he's not laughing any more, but you are.

I got your bow back, by the way. That was the first thing you asked about. No messing around, just "How is she?" I swear - that thing's just an extension of your hand. Like Tony's suit, or my guns, or Cap's shield. Or Nick's eye patch. Someday, Barton, you're going to have to tell me about how that happened. I know you know.

You sleep on your stomach. Your arm's draped over your head and you're snoring slightly. Nothing loud, don't worry. It's an occasional snuffle. Like a puppy.

Worry about that instead. I won't call you Bird Brain any more, I'll call you Puppy Nose or something instead. I like this idea.

I have this feeling that as soon as we walk out tomorrow, it'll be as though none of this happened. I know you're eager to leave it all behind, but...

Well. Something has me wondering.

You say you don't remember anything from the past month - but just now - and you were half asleep, but I know from that time in Norway, when you told me about your parents, about your brother, that that's when you're at your most honest - you said something.

"I remember how unfair it was,"

"What?"

"I had to earn back your trust, I was going to prove it, and there you were - dying in my arms."

"When?" I asked, looking over the file on Oliver Newman I'd been given. Your eyes were closed and your words were lazy. I wanted to trace your lips with a finger, just to feel your smile against them.

"Budapest." You said, turning over so your face was in the crook of your elbow. It muffled your voice. "Your hair was just a couple of shades lighter than your, than your..." And you fell asleep.

But the unfinished sentence stayed with me. Your hair was just a couple of shades lighter than your blood.

It floored me. I stared at you, lips parted. What had you heard? What did you know?

I could find out. I'm still not sure what to do. I could find out with some carefully worded questions.

Normally I wouldn't hesitate.

You're an anomaly Clint - you're a danger, and you know how I work. In years to come, this could be used against me. And I could have stopped it all.

But if I were to die tomorrow, or the next day - then no one would know the truth. You wouldn't know the truth. And the thought of that actually hurts.

When did you get inside of my heart? You - with your funny stories that make cold nights feel warm, with your strong arms, with your cheeky, slightly startled smile? Was it when I realised you weren't intimidated by me, or a little while before? Not many people say "no" to me Clint.

Not many people dare.

You did.

"Barton!"

It was a short while after Fury had told me we'd be working together for the foreseeable future. I'd caught you in the training grounds, just leaning your bow down on the ground. I watched you carefully.

"Romanoff."

"We worked well together." I said no preamble. "We should train together sometime."

You took your time replying, pulling the limbs off of your compact and sliding them into it's box, then carefully threading your arrows in beside it.

"No thanks,"

My mouth opened incredulously.

"What?!"

You shrugged and caught my eye as you slung your ruck over your shoulder.

"I play better alone." And you left, leaving me staring at your muscled back.

The same back that's rising and falling now. Does it take a lot out of you, lying in hospital? Or is this the fact that I made you sit up and watch British dramas with me last night when you should have been asleep?

Ah. Payback. I see.

Sleep well Clint. we've got long years ahead of us and I've got a feeling that this won't be the last time one of us is lying in hospital, with the other one mooching around, complaining about the food, being generally supportive. Okay. You were supportive. I was... not.

This file that Fury delivered is on a metalwork's in Slovakia. It's where that Newman guy is based. I reckon it's where we're headed next. Snow and mountains, mainly. We're looking at snowmobiles, this reeks of a cover-up.

Eat your greens, Bird Brain - we're in for a bumpy ride.

Fin.