I had this idea when I was cleaning a bed yesterday. I know I should really update my other stories but had to write this down :) Enjoy! And don't worry, all will become clear.

Please review!

Charlotte yawned and ran her fingers through her hair. She hated long shifts, 14.5 hours of wiping patient's bums and being ordered around by the staff. Not that she had any false expectations of what nursing would be like when she started her training mind you, she was fully aware that the majority of patients would be elderly and the majority would be unable (or too lazy as the case often was) to wipe their own bums. No, the patients she could cope with, the patients she loved talking to, it was the nursing staff calling her names like 'little one' that really grated on her nerves. She was 19 for crying out loud! Legally an adult! How did that make her little?

Charlotte yawned again and tried to hide it behind her hand. She was stood by the nurses' station, hands behind her back, clearly using her body posture to show that she was available to help out and could someone please give her a job because she was bored. This was ridiculous, they were supposed to encourage her learning not leave her standing there doing nothing. Charlotte glanced at the clock. Four o'clock in the afternoon. She decided to use her initiative and check the obs on the coma patient in B side room, then she'd get the satisfaction of showing off to the staff that she was perfectly capable to mucking in with the rest of them. Which mainly included the health care assistants and nursing axillaries, as it was accepted that once you graduated to a staff nurse, you were 'too posh to wash'. Not Charlotte though, she was determined to show the world that nursing was focused on giving care to a person, not shoving it onto someone else below you, like the student nurses for example.

'Good afternoon!' Charlotte said merrily as she entered side room B. 'The weather is rubbish and there are no birds singing, however I have just submitted my last essay for this year so fingers crossed.'

Charlotte liked talking to the coma patient, who they'd nicknamed 'Florence' after Florence and the Machine on account of her flaming red hair. Normally the unidentified patients were referred to as 'Jane Doe,' but this lady was so obviously not the kind of person you'd call 'Jane,' the hair being an example of this.

Charlotte picked up the hairbrush someone had left there and brushed back Florence's short hair. 'There, much better,' she said. 'I'm just going to check your blood pressure and heart rate, you know the drill.'

Charlotte Velcro-ed the blood pressure cuff round the patient's arm and turned the machine on, popping the sats probe onto her finger and checking her temperature while the cuff inflated. Charlotte took Florence's folder from the end of her bed and started documenting in the results, talking to Florence as she did so. 'Heart rate 67, that's a bit low,' she told her. 'Though I guess you haven't been doing any exercise since you came in so I'm not expecting it to be racing.'

Florence had been admitted to the ward a month previously with a severe head injury, comatose on arrival. She'd had no identification on her and her clothes (a jacket, top, jeans and a pair of boots) had been removed and neatly folded up by Charlotte and placed in her locker. She'd then been dressed in a hospital gown and had been left in the side room till she woke up, with instructions for regular obs to be done on her.

'Blood pressure 109 over 80, also low,' Charlotte said frowning. 'But that's normal for you, you haven't been doing anything to get the blood pumping I guess.'

The door opened and Charlotte, head bent over the obs chart, called out 'I've already done it!'

'Done what?'

Charlotte looked up, surprised at the male voice, the majority of the staff were female apart from the one male HCA who did not have a voice like that.

The man stood in the doorway was wearing a suit and a doctor's coat, he was clean shaven and his hair was slicked back. He was also ridiculously attractive and looked kind of familiar. He raised an eyebrow at her, obviously expecting an answer.

'Oh, sorry,' Charlotte said. 'I thought you were one of the staff come to check her obs.'

The doctor (she guessed he was a doctor from the coat) nodded and turned his attention to Florence, and his entire face relaxed. He smiled softly and Charlotte frowned. She was very good at reading facial expressions and it was obvious the doctor was trying to conceal the fact that he was incredibly happy. Then he turned his attention back to her.

'I'm Dr Rogers, one of the F1's,' he said.

Charlotte nodded, F1 meaning he was a Foundation year 1 doctor, newly qualified which explained why she hadn't seen him around.

'It's nice to meet you Nurse…?'

'Fay, Charlotte Fay. And I'm one of the student nurses,' she explained, feeling pleased. Normally the doctors didn't give a flying monkeys as to who she was and just ignored her or barked instructions at her.

'Nice to meet you,' he said, nodding at her in acknowledgement. 'And in my experience, sometimes the student nurses' are better than the staff nurses, more empathy.'

Charlotte smiled, she thought exactly the same thing.

'I've been sent to check up on Miss Doe,' he said. 'Would you mind explaining her condition to me?'

Charlotte nodded and drew herself to her fall height, proud to be have been tasked with such an important job by a senior member of staff. She pulled her handover sheet from her pocket and placed it on Florence's folder, lifting it up to appear official.

'Of course, Doctor,' she said. 'This is Jane Doe, or 'Florence' as we refer to her because of the hair.'

Dr Rogers nodded understandingly.

'We were unable to track down identity or any family members but we have estimated her age to be around 25-30. She was admitted to the ward with a head injury and substantial blood loss, comatose on arrival. She had 3 units of blood via a blood transfusion since she's been here and her condition hasn't improved at all. I've just done her obs and her blood pressure and heart rate is both low, which has been continuous since she was admitted. She is on nasal specs and 3 litres of oxygen which has also been since arrival as her oxygen dropped below 80 when she was admitted,' Charlotte finished, feeling proud of herself and feeling like a proper nurse.

'Very informative,' Dr Rogers said, smiling at her. 'I'll make sure I tell the staff how professional you are.'

Charlotte beamed with pride and Dr Rogers crossed over to Florence, picking up her hand and consulting his watch, obviously trying to take her pulse, although Charlotte couldn't help noticing that his fingers weren't close enough to the radial artery to be able to find anything. But there wasn't a reason for him to pretend to take her pulse, surely?

'Hell on asha,' the doctor mumbled, so quietly that Charlotte almost didn't catch it. Charlotte frowned, what on earth did 'hell on asha' mean?

The doctor straightened up. 'I concur,' he informed her. 'Low pulse rate consistent with previous readings. Thank you for your time,' and he quickly left the room.

Charlotte stared after him, confused. How the hell did her know her pulse? He hadn't even taken it properly! Charlotte put her fingers where his had been, nope, couldn't feel anything. Even the doctors couldn't take pulses through sheer power of will. He must have been faking.

Then, as these things happen when the brain catches up with itself, Charlotte realised that he hadn't been saying 'hell on asha,' he had in fact been saying Hello Natasha.

Charlotte started at the patient. Did Doctor Rogers know her? Was he even a real doctor?

'… Natasha?' she said softly.

She wasn't sure if it was her imagination or the light in the room playing tricks in the early afternoon glow, but she could have sworn the patient's eyes flickered slightly.

Outside the hospital, the doctor pulled his coat off and shoved it into his car, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

'Clint? It's me,' Tony Stark said. 'I've found her.'