This is something that was inspired by Lollypops101 from one of our earlier conversations. This fic can be considered as an extension of "Come Here," or can be read as a stand alone fic as well. Hope you all enjoy it.
This is dedicated to two special angels…Bella and Will.
There were always close calls with escape plans. But, none like this. What the hell happened? He was blindsided to say the very least. All of his training wasn't enough. There were no rulebooks on how to be a father, let alone to an infant girl fighting for survival.
Natasha should be here, she'd know what to do. She was the calm and collected one compared to his temperament despite his years as a sniper. He leaned against the vending machine and slid down onto the cold floor. He was a mess. None of his friends were there at the moment, as they were tied up with the unexpected twist of events. It all happened at the same time. HYDRA was waiting for the opportune time to strike and the group managed to distract everyone in the chaos.
He looked at his bloodied hands as they trembled under the shear weight of stress and adrenaline. What would she do? His mind kept racing over and over again. He couldn't be in two places at once, but he desperately wanted to see his wife. He picked at the invisible ring on his finger. It took him long enough for him to propose to her after countless rejections. Even after her recent stint with the Winter Soldier, it was enough to strain their relationship, but she found her way back to him.
He mustered his strength and walked to the NICU. He washed his hands at the entrance. The area was divided into pods, each one holding several incubators and giraffes. Several parents were at the bedside of their own tiny peanuts, watching their tiny arms reach out. Wires and monitors were carefully tethered at the bedside. He wound his way through the long hallway, encountering former portraits of the NICU babies. It gave him hope that there was a chance. A chance to live.
He pushed aside the door at the furthest pod and found her lying in a similar incubator like her neighbors. Her eyes were covered to keep the blue light out, while she laid expose in the warm cocoon. It broke his heart to see lines already poking into her thin skin, but they were keeping her alive with the medicines and fluids.
"Daddy's here," he whispered. "You are strong just like your momma." He watched the monitor vigilantly, hoping that every passing beat, she was getting stronger. He reached into one of portholes with his cleaned hand. A tiny hand reached up to his finger and latched on for dear life. It was surreal to him that something so tiny can have the biggest impact. He stood there for several minutes comforting his tiny girl. Since the moment, she came into the world, she had him wrapped around his finger.
Clint pulled up the rocker next to the incubator. Natasha would've wanted this. There was no need to fawn over her, while their daughter needed him more.
A nurse stepped in and ruined the simple moment, "Mr. Barton, you need to be examined. Dr. Banner is requesting it."
"He is? I don't give a damn right now. Tell him if needs a medical exam from me, he'll need to find me first. I'm going to stay by my daughter's side."
The door to the pod room closed. He was left with his daughter again.
The dipstick didn't lie. The pink line was clearly visible. They both sat across from each other at their kitchen table. The odds were improbable to say the least, but nothing was ever fool proof.
Natasha had her arm bracing herself against the table, wondering what her husband was thinking about. Already, she was thinking of taking a long hiatus from S.H.I.E.L.D. "Well?"
"Shit…" he whispered under his breath, not knowing how to react. Part of him inside wanted to leap for joy, while the other part wanted to play defensive as soon as possible. "This complicates a lot of things."
"I know."
"It's your call."
"Really?" Her emerald eyes stared at him.
Silence fell upon them as Natasha kept her eyes trained on her husband. After ten minutes, she pushed her chair back and walked over to the window. Raindrops pelted against the clear glass as she looked out.
"I don't know if I'll be the perfect dad. We live crazy lives already." He encircled his arms around her protectively, "What happens if we can't protect him or her?"
"I know it's scary…that's my worst fear as well. I think we'll make great parents."
"You think so?"
She looked up at him, "I know so."
"Promise me one thing, don't make Stark the godfather."
She let out a small smile and kissed him on his cheek.
…
Needless to say when they first contacted Fury, they thought heads would roll in his office. He stood there silently, wondering how he would pull the two master assassins off the grid. "So much for perfect timing," he looked over the video screens. "HYDRA is acting up again."
Clint looked over the scanners as well, "I can still run detail if you want me to, sir. It won't be a problem."
Natasha walked up to the two men. "I'm still cleared for missions, sir." Both men looked at her, "What, this is ridiculous. Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I get to sit on the bench." She eyed Barton.
He swallowed hard as his wife put him on the spot. "I'm not letting you go out on the field."
She clenched her jaw in his shear stubbornness until Fury broke up their feud. "He's right. We can't chance it."
"Finally someone agrees with me." Clint held out his hands.
"It's settled you both will be working locally. Barton, you're going to train the new recruits. Romanoff, you'll be working with Hill on gathering intelligence. Agreed?"
The two assassins nodded before stepping out in the open atrium. "I think I can just murder you sometimes, Barton."
"The hormones are talking."
"Hmm," she continued to walk in her boots. "You'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."
He twisted the kink out of his neck. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found himself in the rocker still. It was another day and another milestone passed. He wished her a good morning before leaving the pod room.
The hospital was eerily quiet in the pre-dawn hours as he walked back to Natasha's room. The skywalk showed the slumbering city coming back to life. He punched the elevator button. The elevator hummed in the background with the periodic ding that signaled the floors he had just passed.
Elevator thoughts. That's the word Banner would use whenever the two were stuck in the elevator at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, despite his disapproval for confined areas. He rarely had time to speak to the other man as they were both running around on the campus, performing their duties. He now hoped that the doctor himself wouldn't catch him here anyhow, since he had more pressing matters at hand.
The archer was getting closer to her floor. He felt his stomach lurch with the change in velocity as it slowed. What was he was going to say to her? He was at a loss for words. The past day, he was running on minimal sleep. Yet alone, the adrenaline was his main energy source at the moment despite his small reprieve with their infant daughter.
His mind ran a mile a minute as it flashed back to the moment that started it all.
They were driving as usual. Something so mundane to civilian life, but it came out of nowhere. The stoplight changed from red to green, he stole a glance over at Natasha, as she looked out her window, before letting his foot hit the gas pedal. The intersection was clear but in the blink of the eye, he lost control of the steering wheel and spun out of control as he another car rear-ended the elusive assassins.
"What the fuck happened?" She grabbed the armrest, as she looked over at Barton.
The smell of gas heightened both of their senses. "We need to get out. Are you hurt?"
"Just cuts and bruises." She unclipped her belt and wobbled out from her seat.
Clint reached over into the glove compartment and pulled out two Glocks he kept as an emergency. The minute his feet hit the ground, he was sprayed with bullets. Natasha immediately dropped to the ground as she pulled out her own weapon.
Eventually the gunfire dimmed until they picked off their targets one by one. Clint immediately ran to the opposite side of the car and picked up Natasha, as they ran as fast as they could away from their car. Not sooner than five seconds, they felt the heat surge towards them as they both fell to the ground.
"That was too close," she yelled at him.
"You can say that again."
They both rolled onto to their sides and surveyed the fiery wreckage. He was the first one off the ground as he pulled up her from the ground. His keen eyes noticed something was off, as he felt her grasp tightened around his hand.
"I think the baby is coming."
The door slid open. Already, the nightshift nurses were giving morning report to their colleagues as Clint quickly walked passed them. He could tell which was Natasha's room already. Two S.H.I.E.L.D. guards stood by the doorway.
Clint wondered where was the security detail in the first place that could've prevented his worst-case scenario. He pushed aside the door and found his wife lying on her back. Her hands were bruised with cuts over her knuckles, while a small laceration was on her right cheekbone.
"She's alive," he whispered into her ear, as he swept some loose curls away from her face. "She doesn't have a name yet." The monitors showed a steady heart rate with adequate vitals.
He leaned against the bedrail, stooping over her with his head bowed down. "You better not quit on me now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. A caked layer of her blood tarnished the silver. He barely remembered who gave him the silver chain back to him as he stood helplessly in the corner, watching his wife be wheeled away to the operating room.
"This is so fucked up." He still leaned over her, adjusting a blanket over her. "You know I can't do this by myself."
A doctor had stepped into the room, but he felt numb to the world. The words were just a mumbled mess that didn't register in his mind. The words hemorrhage, fetal distress, and hysterectomy stuck the most out of the word salad, but the logical connection didn't really dawn in the sniper's mind. He was running on fumes now and he needed a break. "Is she going to be okay?"
"Her vitals are stable now. She sustained a great deal of trauma with that accident. The blood loss was severe. You do realize that she won't be able to have anymore children."
Barton looked at his sleeping wife and rubbed his face to wake himself out of this nightmare. "Thank you," he whispered before collapsing in the chair. He knew they were both lucky to be alive after that incident on the road. How many times did they cheat Death. The odds were stacking up, but sooner or later, something had to give. There was always a balance. He just hoped their numbers wouldn't be up yet. He eyelids began to droop and he found himself asleep again.
"What do you think of this color?" He flipped through several catalogues of color samples until his eyes caught the sunshine yellow.
"You're not a home decorator, Barton." Her green eyes went back into her novel. By now, her belly became swollen and there was no doubt, their pregnancy was progressing.
"It is a neutral color." He said with sure confidence. "Unless, you know the sex of the baby and care to tell me, I can then pick between shades of pink and blue." He paused for a second, "or I can take the sonogram picture and show it to Banner when I get the chance."
"Don't you dare. You and I both wanted it to be a surprise."
"True, but the anticipation is killing me."
"When did Banner last see a sonogram?" She countered her husband's debate, "I just want a healthy baby." She ignored his hint of wanting a girl. "You're not that subtle, Barton." She flipped another page of her book. "It's 50/50, and technically you get to pick the sex."
"No pressure," he muttered before tossing the catalogue aside. He sat next to her on the couch and placed his hand over her abdomen. "Any name ideas yet?"
"No." She looked at him, wondering why he was in his nesting phase already.
"Just don't name the baby Francis," he let out a small laugh.
"That's for sure," she punched him in the shoulder.
Silence filled the room as they both were set on the task at hand. Never in their wildest dreams that they would become parents given with the skillsets they had. And with them being both orphans at a very young age, the concept of family never really sunk in.
"I always liked the names Lena, Sophie or Kennedy."
"Sophie?" He eyed her cautiously.
"Do you have better choices for girl names?"
"Phyllis?"
"I know what you're trying to do but that sounds the worst. I can accept Phil for the boy's name."
"How about Sydney?"
"I can entertain to that…maybe."
"We'll continue this discussion later."
"You can count on that." She kissed him on his lips, while wrapping an arm around his neck, bringing him closer to her.
Green eyes opened to the dimly light room, as she shifted herself on the bed, but every bone in her body protested. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slumped over in the recliner with one leg bent awkwardly. Immediately, her hands went down to her abdomen, but found it wrapped with an abdominal binder. Panic set in as she remembered the inciting incident with the random car wreck.
Her voice was dry from nonuse, "Clint," her voice barely above a whisper. "Clint." He was dead to the world as he was sound asleep. She said his name more time with more force to it.
He was aroused from his REM sleep before rushing to her side, "Thank God, you're all right."
"Where's the baby?" She clutched his shirt.
He was taken a back at how much strength she still had, "She's here...in the NICU."
Her green eyes widened, "Is she okay?"
"She had some breathing difficulty, but she's better. She's a glow worm right now."
"Not cool, Barton," she wheezed. "I want to see her."
"Right, let me get a nurse before you rip your stitches open."
She peeled the abdominal binder off and a saw row of metallic staples running across her lower abdomen. "I'm fine."
"Lay back down before I send someone in to sedate you," he growled. "You have no idea the hell I've been in the for the past 24 hours. Now lay back down."
She propped herself up on adjustable bed and stared at him for a moment. "Fine then, go get a nurse," she muttered in defeat as she watched her husband slip through the door before coming in with a nurse and wheelchair in tow.
"Don't give me that look," he warned her.
The nurse helped Nat out of her bed and carefully situated her in her temporary mode of transportation. Outside the hallways were brightly lit with staff working in their normal routines. The S.H.I.E.L.D. guards stood down and followed the pair in tow in case anything out of the ordinary happened.
She grasped the armrests in anticipation. She pulled all of her senses together. She was getting closer in seeing her daughter. She was mad at herself for not being there even though her life was in danger. Clint placed a hand on shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
The elevator ride felt the longest to her, even though she's been on longer rides that raced up hundreds of floors at one point. The doors opened and she saw the nursery decked out in a jungle theme of plants and wildlife. Butterflies dotted the walls. The wheelchair parked in front of the sink basin, and slowly she went through the motions of washing her hands under the warm water. The fresh liquid on her hands soothed her nerves temporarily, as she counted down the minutes of seeing her newborn.
The entourage entered the hallway as they were lined with former NICU residents. Pictures of smiling two to three years old lined the walls. Eventually, the last set of doors opened and she was in the pod room just where Clint had been earlier several hours ago. The guards stood at the doorway, while leaving Clint and Nat to themselves.
Her green eyes searched the room until she found her little "glow worm." The blue lights surrounded the tiny body. Clint wheeled her up to the incubator, as they both peered through the plastic barrier. Tiny hands were stretched out as she instinctively knew who they were.
"Oh my," Nat whispered. A powerful feeling washed through her at the realization of a dream that was so far away. "I can't believe she is here." She put her hands through one of the portholes and grasped at the tiny fingers. She felt the tiny fingers brush against her index finger. "Thank you, Clint." She craned her neck to kiss him. She could feel a tear trickle down her cheek.
"What are we going to call her?"
She remembered watching one of their favorite crime shows, "How about Kate?"
"That sounds good."
"Kate Felicia Barton."
"Phil would like that," he looked down on his two loves in his life. He was truly blessed to have them.
In serenity of the blue light, Nat and Clint overlooked Kate as she slept. Occasionally, she would sneeze but kept her grasp on her mother's finger. Clint reached in from another porthole and rubbed his daughter's head that was donned with a few locks of brown hair.