The frown on Natasha Romanoff's face was enough to make agents scuttle out of her way. She was being messed around and did not like it. It was going to stop, and it was going to stop now. She didn't pause when she reached her destination, just flung the door open and strode in.

"We can't see him"

Maria Hill looked up from the report she was reading. She looked exhausted, bruise like shadows under her eyes and a slight slump to her shoulders. Natasha would normally back off at this point, but her heart was hurting too much, and all her worry was centred on Clint. Even so, she felt a slight twinge of guilt at adding to the deputy's problems that she squashed as firmly as she could. Maria would understand.

"Can't see who?"
"Coulson. Fury has got him locked down somewhere."
Maria blinked a couple of times "Okay..."
Natasha sat down opposite her and picked up a pen, twiddling it in her fingers. She tried not to see the grief that flickered over Maria's face, tried to ignore her own throat tightening. "Clint needs to see him" she said emphatically, "needs to see that there are no arrow marks..." She stopped as Maria covered her hands with one of her own, gently removing the pen. She glanced up at the commander, whose expression was distant, unfocussed in a way that suggested she was running every scenario through her head and considering variables and probabilities. After a few seconds her gaze snapped back to Natasha, eyes unreadable.
"Ok" she said softly, giving her hands a squeeze, "Leave it with me."
Natasha nodded once "Thank you."
Maria's lips quirked in an approximation of a smile and she gestured at the door "Out, Romanoff."

It was usually Clint who roamed the vents. She had, of course, explored them but was not entirely comfortable with the feeling of being closed in on all sides. However, right now they were perfect. She could curl up here without the fear of someone discovering her and have a few moments alone. If she happened to be having a few moments alone as close to Director Fury's office as was possible (following Clint's first week at SHIELD Fury had installed traps in the vents around his office – Clint liked to take them on as a challenge) then that was just a bonus. Some noise carried this far, and though she couldn't pick out words she homed in on the familiar timbre of Maria's voice, the rhythm of her words suggesting frustration. Fury was a low rumble, getting louder and louder before roaring out. To her surprise Maria yelled back. Yes, the commander had been known to question the director and disagree with him, but as far as Natasha knew no one had ever bereted Fury as his second was doing now. She could feel tension settling in her muscles as shouted words and phrases now drifted to her:
"...no right..." "...playing god..." "...Barton needs to know..." "...better ways to create fucking teamwork..." "...not try to stop me..."
Maria's voice dropped again to an intense buzz, before the door to Fury's office slammed violently.

Hurriedly, Natasha set off, dropping into Maria's office just as she opened to door. Maria didn't even flinch at the sight of a master assassin lowering herself from her ceiling.
"Fetch Barton. Meet me on level B4"

Natasha looked at her warily. B4 was off limits to almost everyone. Maria was thrumming with agitation, jaw tense and eyes guarded. Compared to the normally unflappable commander persona she wore at work this was close to an emotional breakdown.

"Now, Tasha" she added in a slightly softer tone, though it was no less of an order. Natasha nodded, and Maria turned and left, striding down the hall.

It took longer than Natasha would have liked to get Clint to B4. She had had to resort to bullying, something she had tried to avoid the past couple of days. Clint almost looked pleased at the return of normalcy as she threatened, teased and physically prodded him through the corridors. Maria was waiting for them as they exited the elevator, arms crossed as she leant against the wall. Some of the agitation was gone, and her expression was more open.

"Took your time, Romanoff"
"Yeah, yeah" Natasha poked Clint forward. "Got him. What's going on?"

Maria stepped forwards to meet them, squeezing Clint's shoulder briefly. Natasha realised this was probably the first time they had seen each other properly since the mutual trying-to-kill-each-other sessions they had had thanks to Loki. "This way" she led them down a long corridor until they reached a door with two guards outside it. Here she paused, raising an eyebrow until one of them keyed a code into the security pad and pressed his thumb to the scanner. Natasha could feel the tension rolling off Maria, could feel Clint twitching beside her. All she could think was that a body didn't need this kind of security. The guard pushed open the door, and she realised that yes, yes it did.

Phil Coulson lay surrounded by tubes and wires, machines crowding around his bed. Off to one side a woman in scrubs started to move towards them but Maria just raised one finger and she stopped. Clint made a strangled noise and pushed past her, stopping just beside the bed, his eyes taking in every detail. Swallowing hard, Natasha took a few steps inside the room and tried to make sense of what was in front of her. He was alive. He was definitely alive, the harsh hiss of the ventilator, the muted beeps from the monitors, the comforting flush to his cheeks all proof that her mind clung to even as the fact that Fury had lied began to sink in. She turned to Maria who had not moved from the doorway and was watching her steadily, carefully, as though she was a wild animal who could run or fight at any moment. Natasha didn't try to hide the emotions that passed over her face, well aware that Maria would know. Whatever Maria was looking for – blame? Disgust? – she didn't see and her posture relaxed slightly.

"I'm going to call Stark" she said.
Natasha just nodded, and walked over to the bed.