The wastebasket overflowed with crushed coffee cups. Stark had switched from his usual brew to a stronger blend…some coffee beans that Pepper had picked up from the local market. Eight hours into his project and he was no closer than to Banner's work.
"Anything yet?" Bruce walked into the lab with cowlicks sticking on ends. Even with the extra hours of sleep, his mind still raced.
"Nope. Just one overworked JARVIS." The billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist looked at the random permutations on the screen.
"I'm going to make rounds."
"You know where to find me." He spun around in his chair, devising a new strategy.
"Yeah," he waved him off and walked through the hallways before coming across her room. It was the same as every other day. The three-second whistles came and went with each breath she took.
He grabbed her chart and overlooked her progress from the night prior. There were only 17 hours left. Legally, he was bound to her promise. He jotted his notes and left the wing, only to follow a hallway that was hardly used. The echoes from footfalls and random chatter dwindled until he stumbled upon the stained glass windows. He pushed aside the door and stood in the silence, taking in the serenity of the room. Over in the corner, a prayer book was opened and he saw the writings of those that came before him. The pen hovered above the parchment, as he gazed about. He couldn't bring himself to write into the book. Instead, he walked towards an empty pew. In that one moment, he began to whisper, hoping there would be an answer soon.
The interrogation light shone straight at his face. The tables were turned as he fell for the trap. He found himself strapped to a chair. The last thing he remembered was crossing through the city's narrow alleyways.
"Clever, Agent Barton. Where's your better half?" The voice in the darkness mused.
He struggled against metal chains, "Let me go and I'll tell you personally."
The laugh echoed against the walls, "I have eyes and ears back in S.H.I.E.L.D. To be precise, Agent Romanoff has only 15 hours left to live." Clint narrowed his eyes against the blinding light, and tried to break away from one of the wooden posts. "It's a shame that you won't be there when she draws her last breath."
That sent him over the edge. He was already compromised from the first day he glazed over the mission specs to kill her. And when he came eye to eye with her, it was downhill from there when he decided to let her live. Since then, it had been a turbulent partnership with baby steps in between. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath.
"It's pointless." The voice mocked him for his stupidity. "Consider this payback for your constant meddling. S.H.I.E.L.D. is an annoyance." The Iowan paused in his attempt to escape. Over the years, Natasha and him had acquired a list of mob bosses, assassins, and one Asgardian wannabe god. "And to think, the cure is just steps away."
By now, sweat dotted his brow and he resumed struggling against his imprisonment. The light blinded his keen eyesight, but he heard heavy footsteps make his way towards him. The Red Guardian had emerged from his hiding spot. He sent his right hook and connected with Barton's jaw. "That's for screwing my wife."
"You mean your ex-wife," he spat the blood right back at him, which earned him another punch to his face and abdomen. "If you loved her, you wouldn't be doing this," he wheezed.
"She made her choice. I'm making mine." His eyes filled with hatred, while at the same time, he took hold of the archer's right arm. The sickening sound of bone cracking erupted in the room. Barton held back from giving the man any satisfaction of the pain he was enduring. He felt a pair of forceps digging deeper into his flesh. The tracker was useless at this point. The thin rod was tossed aside.
Cold air ran through the sterile lab. Out of reflex, Tony started sneezing in triplet counts. Another cold coffee cup sat idle, and there still was no progress. The deviation he had hoped for was useless. He reached over to grab his tablet to play a round of Candy Crush, but caught his hand against a sharp corner of the sink. A trail of blood ran down the metal basin and towards the used test tubes. He didn't think much of it at first and ignored the stockpiles of the glass vials. JARVIS still performed system scans, but the AI was running out of options.
"Any luck?" Banner entered the lab.
"No." He spun in his chair to grab a makeshift Band-Aid. "Are you ever going to fix that sink?"
"You mean that?" He pointed to the sharp corner, "I've put in a work order about a week ago."
"It can probably kill someone one of these days," he tried to lighten the tension.
"Quit your whining." Banner looked at the sharp corner through his glasses. "Sorry about my mess," he looked into the basin of test tubes. "I'm going to clean this up." Slowly, he lifted each vial carefully, but something caught his eye. There was one test tube that was used as the control. Something was going on.
Tony saw a change in the scientist and wondered if he should duck for cover, but Banner raced towards the microscope. He prepped a slide and shoved it above the light source. The cells were reacting to the foreign agent. "What did you put in the sink?"
"Nothing, except maybe a few droplets of my blood." Tony backed away from his desk, "Don't you dare poke me for my blood. I'm no lab rat."
"Was it this simple?" Banner muttered himself, as he felt a surge of newfound energy. "How could I been so stupid…"
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Blood bank…no time to explain."
The helicarrier was devoid of officers at this time of day. She ran her hands against the metal railing, overlooking the command center. The computers were off, but she remembered, running her hands across the screen in trying to find Barton when he was compromised.
"You don't belong here, Agent Romanoff."
"Excuse me?" She glanced behind her shoulder, realizing the voice it belonged to.
"You can't stay here," Phil walked up besides her, wearing his classic black suit and tie.
"What is this place?"
"I don't know…call it in-between or purgatory…it's all the same." He looked out through the glass windows. "Seriously, you should go back."
"What if I don't want to?"
Phil gave her a stern look, "It's an order." He leaned on the railing, "It's not your time."
"He's right."
Footsteps came from behind her, as she felt her breath hitched in her throat. She didn't want to believe what she was hearing. Her green eyes widened, hoping she wouldn't see him there.
"You just can't." He wrapped his arms around her petite frame.
"This can't be happening." She leaned into him, clenching his gray t-shirt. She breathed him in, as she felt her body mold into his.
"It'll be alright," he whispered into her ear.
"It's not going to be alright."
"They're calling for you."
"Wait," she screamed to the both of them.
Banner looked at the monitors, as he performed the rapid sequence that set the chain of events into motion. The deadline was at hand, and the clock mocked him for cheating death. He tossed the empty syringe in the sharps container, while maintaining his vigil of his friend. The waveforms stabilized with a regular breathing pattern along with an increasing heart rate.
"What the hell did you just do?" Stark stood in the doorway.
"Hopefully a miracle."
The color started to return to her pale cheeks. A hand absentmindedly began to yank at the plastic tubing around her mouth. The medical staff ran to her side, and tried to unclench her death grip on the tubing, but she wouldn't yield.
"Just pull the damn tube out before she does it herself!"
In seconds, the tube was out and she took her first gasp of air without any aid from the ventilator. Her body shook in response to the serum. Green eyes opened to the room of strangers except for two.
"Welcome back, Romanoff."
Thanks again for reading, reviewing, and to those who added this story to their fave and story alerts! Reviews will be wonderful. I'm going on conference soon, I'm planning to update From Where You Are before I leave.