Here it is second chapter. Let's hope I got to keep up with what was the first one. I've got the story all lined up so let's hope I don't mess it up!
Clint sat on a chair beside her bed. His elbows were propped on his thighs and his hands were rested in his lap. Every once in a while he rocked his body back and forward, changing the body's weight from the tip of his feet to the heels in an attempt to entertain himself as he patiently waited. The nurses had properly healed her wounds and injected a cocktail of drugs on her. The doctor told Clint that her physical health was frail. Her wounds created an infection; she showed signs of malnourishment and sleep deprivation.
Natasha awoke up and she immediately started flicking through the whole room. Rays of blood were visible in the sclera of her eye and her chest was expanding and compressing with long and troubled breaths.
Clint grabbed her hand as she hadn't notice he was sitting next to her. Natasha's first rational movement was to squeeze his hand hard enough to make him groan.
"It's me, Tasha. It's alright."
She settled down for a while. "Hospital?"
"Yeah… You passed out. Who healed those wounds of yours?"
"Me. I healed myself." Coming to a sudden realization she gasped and asked him. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Uhm, some five or six hours."
"No, damn it. That's too long…" She whispered, rubbing her forehead. "Have the doctors administrate me anything?"
"A whole bunch of stuff. You're malnourished, sleep deprived and with a severe infection. When was the last time you ate?"
Natasha wasn't concerned about that at the moment but she answered him. "Three days ago or so. I got to eat before returning to New York."
"And how long don't you sleep?"
"I don't sleep since Christmas day, 2012."
Clint frowned. "You're telling me you don't sleep in over a year?"
"I slept about two to three hours a day. Couldn't take the risk of sleeping more than that."
"They messed with your brain again?"
She didn't answer that one and pointed to the clipboard hanging at the footboard. "Read what they've injected me."
Clint sighed and stretched his arm grabbing the clipboard. He flipped through the pages and read to her. "Iron, calcium, potassium, magnesium, many vitamins, painkillers, antibiotics-"
There wasn't anything else to read but still he stopped because Natasha started pulling out the needles of her arm. "Get these from me, Clint. Please." She whimpered.
"Are you crazy?" He said as he tried to stop her. "You're really sick-"
She grasped his arm very tightly. The two stopped and looked into each other's eyes. "The antibiotics will make my immunity system start working and you don't want to be around when I start working properly again… My brain was played with again."
"Yes, but pulling these out won't make you any better. Will you feel better if you are transferred to SHIELD's infirmary?"
"That's the worst thing you can you ever think of, Clint. I'll try to kill you and everyone that shows up in my away. And I'll want to take down SHIELD and it will happen very fast if you don't let me pulled these out!"
"I rather have to deal with you psychotic than not having to deal with you at all."
"This is no time for sentimentalism. If I have to die then at least let me die without having to kill anyone along with me."
Clint let go of her and she thought he had given up on her. It saddened her somehow to think that he had given up so easily, but he hadn't. He walked out the room and brought a nurse who strapped Natasha to the bed and again put the needles on her.
She tugged at her raw wrists in an attempt to get free but soon gave up, feeling weak.
"You've got no idea of the mistake you have just done, Clint." She murmured as a tear rushed down her face.
"I'll take you home soon and you'll be alright." He got up and planted a kiss on her hair, stroking her cheek slightly with his thumb. "You should get some sleep now."
"Set me free, Clint." She pleaded but he pretended not to hear, leaving the room.
When he found himself in the middle of the hall he saw Agent Duncan waiting to talk with him. "Brief me in about Agent Romanoff's condition."
"Has an infection, is sleep deprived, malnourished, had her brain used as a toy again… I'd say she had had better days." He snorted that last sentence sarcastically. He was feeling miserable enough to have to answer to an Agent who was there to report to Director Fury.
"I'll have it arranged for her to be transferred to SHIELD and then we can wipe clean her brain-"
"What?" He yelled, making those that were walking by stare him for a while. "You're not doing that. Enough playing with her brain!"
"God knows what experiments they've done on her. We have to react before it's far too late."
"She has memories, you know? She's just confused! I've been her partner for seven years-"
"It's no time to be sentimentalist. We have to be rational about this and Agent Romanoff is a ticking bomb about to explode any day."
Clint swallowed in dry; if he couldn't appeal to sentiment, then he'd try to strike him down with rational arguments. "Will you completely throw away seven years she dedicated to this Agency? Are you willing to lose a year in training and another one until she trusts another Agent to be her partner?"
"Agent Romanoff has a very specific set of skills. She's… gifted… It will be no loss in wasting time on training her again. However, it'll be disastrous if she turns against us. She'll get her brain wiped clean again and there's nothing you can do about it." Duncan spoke as he was making his way out.
Clint strolled after him. "I can talk to Fury."
"It won't make a change."
"Then let's see." He grasped his hand on his shoulder and made him turn around and face him. "Call him now."
Duncan sighed and brushed off Clint's hand from his shoulder. He grabbed the phone to call SHIELD's Director. After a while waiting the phone came to Clint's hands.
"I believe you're not going to tell anything good, Agent Barton."
"I leave all the news for Duncan to tell you. I just want to remind you of something. Remember what I've told you when I brought Natasha into SHIELD?"
"That you were going to turn her into our finest Agent and that you were to take responsibility for anything she might do during the adaptation process. You said you knew how to handle her."
"Have I ever disappointed you so far about that?" Getting no answer he continued. "I ask you, Sir, trust me on this."
"I've got no idea of the current situation."
Clint firmed his voice. "Just trust me, Sir."
After a while Fury spoke. "Whatever repercussions your actions might take will be charged directly and only over you."
"Didn't expect it any other way, Sir." Clint put the phone against Duncan's chest and spat. "She's not going anywhere, understand?"
"Yes, Agent Barton." The other answered in the same tone.
Clint returned to Natasha's side again. She was almost sleeping again, her eyes trembling, heavy due to the medication effect. When he held her hand on his, she recognized his touch and slightly turned her head to look at him.
"I'm not giving up, at least for now…" She whispered and he smiled. "But if I try to kill you or do anything wrong, you have my brain being wiped clean again."
Reviews are always nice and I very much need something nice/improving now. School exams aren't the best thing in the world...!