She's prepared for the worst. She's prepared for blood. She's prepared for tubes. She's prepared for sunken features, pale skin, and shallow breathing. They've told her to get ready, to prepare. She's prepared.
She's not prepared for this.
He's sitting up and smiling. His face is full of color and his eyes are bright. She watches him throw his head back and laugh and her heart melts a little. Her heart always melts a little when he laughs. "Clint?"
The woman there, a young brunette with short hair, taps him on the arm. "Hon', that's you."
"That's me," he repeats. He turns to Natasha and gives her his best smile. "Why, hello there beautiful."
"Clint," she repeats. It comes out in a breath, hushed almost whispered. She runs over, nearly knocks the poor woman over in her mad dash, and wraps her arms around Clint. "Clint."
"Yeah," he says. "And who are you?"
And just like that, her heart stops. She pulls away suddenly, gasps. "You don't know who I am?"
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry beautiful. I've been told I'm having some memory problems. They keep saying it'll come back to me but, to be honest, sometimes I still have to be reminded of my own name."
"We're, well, we're partners," she says.
"What kind of partners?" he asks.
"Work," she chokes out.
"I work with you? Doing what?" he asks.
"It doesn't matter," she replies. She's not sure she can say since Clint can't remember his own name. "And we….well…"
He smiles. "Don't tell me you're my girl."
Natasha sighs in relief, grateful he could put it into words for her. "Yeah, I'm your girl."
"No," he says. She's worried, for a moment, that's he's horrified. "You're pulling my leg."
"What? No!" she exclaims.
"No, I can't be this lucky," he says.
"I didn't….wait, what?" she asks.
He shakes his head and a half smile tugs at his lips. "I'm not this lucky."
"I don't understand," Natasha says.
"Christ, lady. You're beautiful, gorgeous. Guys like me, we don't get women like you," he says.
Her breath gets caught in her throat and she tries to pretend that her vision isn't blurring, that her eyes aren't welling with tears. "I'm yours, Clint. I'm your girl."
"Oh shit," he says. "I didn't mean to make you sad. It's just….I must have done something really, really good in a past life to earn you."
"You are a wonderful man, Clint," she says. The tear rolls down her cheek. "You are a wonderful man in this life."
He reaches up and wipes the tear from her cheek. "What's your name, beautiful?"
"Natasha," she says.
He grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Well, Natasha, of all the things I've forgotten I miss you the most. I can't wait to remember you."