The room was dark when Clint was dragged in, and he could just make out the muddle shape of someone is the corner. Who ever it was, they were chained with their hands against the wall, their head hanging limp in between. They looked unconscious He couldn't make out much more, because he was still struggling against the guards.

They jabbed a something into his neck, and his attempts to carry on fighting drowned in the drug that was now taking over his body. He could tell he would pass out soon enough, but he was still awake to see the guards walk over to the person in the corner.

"Ah, the Russian bitch." The guard mumbled.

Natasha! Clint's mind was screaming, but the drug blocked it out. He tried to scream, to move, anything to let Natasha know he was here, that he was with her.

"How about a kiss?" The guard hovered over her, and Clint could see, in fractured images, Natasha lift her head up. Her bright hair was just barely visible, and even though it was impossible, Clint could swear he saw her emerald eyes in the dark.

"I'd rather stick needles in my eyes." She said, her voice husky and rough, her accent just there underneath the surface. Whenever she was in distress her accent slid through, ever so slightly that it was un-noticable to anyone who didn't talk to her on a regular basis.

She looked up at him, and spat in his face.

"Be very careful what you say, whore. Those needles can be very easily arranged." He crouched over her in a squat. "Nobody's coming for you this time, the poor little bitch will have to rot in this place." The two other men stood by the door.

That wasn't true though. Clint had managed to put out a distress call to SHIELD before he got caught. He just hoped they got here in time. Right now, it wasn't looking entirely likely.

Natasha looked up at the guard, even through the dark, he could see her trying to lean towards the guard, in a non-threatening way. Her shoulders were being pulled back by the chains holding her wrist to the walls. As the drug was finally making his way to his mind, slowly his breathing and blurring his vision, he saw Natasha swivel from her kneeling position, lashing out with her legs, and using the chains to get height and force. She hit him square in the face with her leather clad leg and boot.

Clint could vaguely hear the snap in his nose, and winced knowing how that felt. He could imagine the blood going everywhere. As his eye lids began to close, he could hear the guard shout "You fucking bitch!"

The guard swung his leg backwards, and with Natasha's hands behind her, keeping her in place, there was nothing else for her to do, apart from take the kick in the gut. She coughed and spluttered, but she did not scream or cry out. The boot came down again, and again, and again. Eventually, Clint's eyes finally closed all the way, but the guards continued.

Shivering and shaking, Natasha tried to rise to a sitting position, but the pain was too much. Instead, she was slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own blood. They had kicked her, and hit her head against the wall, so blood was running down her face. Unable to curl up while they attacked her, she knew some serious damage had been done. And she didn't know if she'd recover if SHIELD didn't get her soon enough.

The pain was unbearable, spreading from her abdomen and causing a numb feeling surrounding it, but excruciating pain in the center. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out, but it just drew blood. Unable to control the pain, she groaned, and tried to scream hoping to release some of the pain, but her throat closed up. She was too weak to even cry out.

A movement in the other side of the room caused her wary eyes to dart over there. Clint was moving slightly, rousing from his unconsciousness. He mumbled something, and then sat up, as straight as he could with the chains against the wall. "Natasha!" He shouted.

The room was lighter than it had been before, because of the barred window near the top of the wall. Natasha could see Clint's head was bruised, but she was guessing she looked a hell of a lot worse. Much worse considering Clint's expression of extreme worry and anger.

"Natasha, I swear to God when we get outta here, I'm gonna kick the crap out those guys..." Clint looked like he was about to carry on his rant, but Natasha shook her head, and said "Sssh." She leaned her head against the wall.

Somehow, Natasha could tell she was on her way out. Whether that meant passing out, or worse, the unthinkable. "I'm not lasting long here, Clint." She whispered, surprised by how vulnerable her voice sounded.

"Don't say things like that Nat. I promise that I'll get you outta here, and we'll both walk away from this." Clint sounded desperate, like he was trying to convince himself, just as well as her. She attempted to shake her head again, but that sent a throbbing pain through her skull, so she just sighed.

"No. I know why you're saying that, I've said it to you enough times." Her breath caught in her throat because of another excruciating pain in her stomach. "Just, just tell me a story." She exhaled. Something peaceful to let her just slip away. She would wake up soon enough.

Clint paused. A story? What kind of story? "You remember Budapest, right?" Natasha smiled meekly and nodded, but only subtly. Clint smiled too. "You almost got killed. I was so mad," He said reminiscing. "And for the life of me, excuse the pun, I couldn't figure out why." He stopped smiling, and looked out to the corner of the room.

"And then I knew. That's when I knew I was in love with you." Natasha already knew this, the were sort of together, but nothing really official. With their jobs, it could never be official. "I imagine losing you and it's like my heart sank into my stomach. I knew if you had ... died, a part of me would die with you. And I wouldn't care anymore. About anything."

"I'm sorry." Natasha whispered, weakly.

"Don't be. It's gone, and we're alive now." Clint didn't want to even acknowledge the fact Natasha might not be alive for much longer. It wasn't even comprehend able. "Besides, we'll be outta here. They're probably fighting off Fury at the door as we speak."

Natasha smiled again. It was a peaceful smile, accepting. She didn't know what would happen if she closed her eyes, but she had been so close to death so many times now that the idea didn't frighten her. But that premise itself was a little scary. "I love you Clint. I don't say it enough."

The first time she had 'I love you' it was one of the hardest things for her to ever do. It was when her walls came down, and she knew she had to be serious about Clint. Otherwise she would lose him. They were nothing official, but love wasn't official. It felt stupid saying love, but it really was the only word she could think to use to describe the way she felt about Clint.

"I love you too." Clint replied, trying to show how much he meant it with his rough jagged voice. After a while, there was still no reply. "Natasha?" He called again.

The only thing Clint missed about Natasha's appearance as it was now, was her eyes. She had bright, shimmering emerald eyes. Now they were closed, with her soft, pale skin coloured eye lid covering them from his view.

Everything else looked like it usually did when she was awake. The blood had been wiped away, and she was clean, with the only marks on her face being bruises, or the rather large cut on her head, that happened to be worrying the doctors.

Her head wasn't where most of the damage was. The guards had killed her stomach with their continuous assault on it. He wanted to rip their heads off. Her stomach had suffered from lots of internal bleeding, and damage that could be irreversible had been sustained.

Clint didn't know how long he had been sitting in the SHIELD hospital wing, by Natasha's side. As soon as the SHIELD team had retracted them successfully, he'd showered, changed and then spent the rest of the time here. All he was sure of is that when he had first gotten there, it was night. Now daylight flooded through the partially open blinds.

She looked peaceful, he'd give her that. Although she wasn't smiling, her face was soft. All the anger and violence in her life flooded from her as she slept, and Clint had always loved that about her. Her pale white cheeks oddly plain, around her fiery red hair. Someone must have brushed it for her, he thought to himself. It was matted when they first got here.

Of course all the Avengers had come to see her, some of them were probably still at SHIELD. But it was all a blur to him. Two things were all he could think about:

One. Natasha. Would she be okay? When would she be up? How bad was the damage? What effects could it have? He needed information, and fast.

Two. What could he of done differently. Surely, somehow, he could have saved her. Gotten there quicker, called for SHIELD earlier. Turn down the mission in the first place? No that she would ever let him do that.

His thoughts were disrupted by a knocking on the door to Natasha's room. He stood as a doctor entered, and gave him a curt nod. "How's it looking Doc'?" He asked, getting straight to the point, the only point. Natasha. "When will she wake up?"

"We don't know." The doctor said, solemnly. "I'm sorry Agent Barton. We just don't know."