He stares down at her seemingly lifeless body, and a sob escapes from his throat. "No," he whispers.

He kneels down beside her, scooping her up in his arms. He ignores the blood. "Tasha, wake up!"

She's nonresponsive. He barely notices as the rest of the team fly to the ground, their faces solemn. He faintly hears Steve talking to someone, but doesn't notice. He only holds her body tighter.

A hand is placed on his shoulder. He immediately stiffens. "Get your hand off of me," he growls.

The hand doesn't move. "Clint," Tony says softly. "I'm sorry."

He ignores the billionaire, only holding her tighter. Suddenly the noise of a helicopter fills the air and a team of medical surrounds him and her.

They try and pull her away from him, but he doesn't move. Doesn't loosen his grip.

He feels someone try and pull her away from him. He snarls, and they lean back. A moment later Steve's face appears in front of him. "Clint, you need to let her go. The medical team is here."

He allows her to be removed gently form his arms, watching her body being transferred to a stretcher. His hawk eyes watch her, never wavering.

He feels himself being pulled off the ground and catches a glimpse of a red, white, and blue shield. He walks slowly on to the craft, not caring that he was bleeding. Badly.

A hand forced him down. He was pushed, not gently, into a chair while the medical team examined him. He watched as they studied Natasha, occasionally shaking their heads. With each nod, he was hopeful. With each murmur of doubt, his heart pounded.

Please God, let her not be dead. Don't take her away from me. Not here. Not now.

Tony stands before him, his helmet off. His face is sympathetic. "How you holding up?" His voice is surprisingly soft, an unusual thing.

Clint finally looks around, ignoring the sympathetic looks on his team's faces.

Thor and Bruce are leaned up against the helicopter wall, staring at the floor. Steve is sitting in the co-pilot's seat, with Fury in the pilot's. Natasha . . . he stares at her lifeless body, unable to move.

She looks so peaceful, so innocent. Her red curls are spread across the makeshift bed, her eyes closed. He wishes they would open, to reassure him she was all right.

His breathing becomes uneven as a pain shoots up his arm. His vision turns red, and the last thing he hears is Bruce's voice, yelling for help.


His eyes fly open and he shoots up, unable to understand where he is.

Then it rushes back to him. The mission. Pain. Natasha.

He glances over at the bed beside him and a pain of worry comes through him. "Where is she," he growls. This isn't a question that he's going to be refused of.

Tony glances around. "Who?"

His fist clench and he punches Tony in the face. The billionaire fall back in pain as Clint gets out of bed, desperate to see his partner.

When he reaches the door, he is stopped by a doctor. "Agent Barton, get back-" His voice is cut off as Clint pinches a nerve on his neck, causing him to fall to the ground.

He storms out the door, walking. He's not sure where he's going, but he doesn't care. He's going to find her.

Suddenly her room looms before him. Pausing, and ignoring the loud alarms going off, he punches in a password. It opens, much to his relief, and he storms in.

Relief comes over him as he sees her; she is lying on her bed, sleeping peacefully. She's all cleaned up and there is no blood, at least that he can see.

He gulps and walks towards her bed. He sits down gently, his hand finding hers. "Hey," he says softly.

Immediately her eyes fly open. "Clint?"

His hand grips hers tighter. "You're alive."

She sits up slowly. "You're supposed to be in the infirmary."

Their eyes meet, and he can barely stand it. "You're alive."

Her eyes fill with confusion. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"I held you in my arms . . . and you were dead."

She bites her lip. "That was three weeks ago. You've been unconscious. It was only a bullet wound."

He doesn't care. "You're alive," he says as he grips her hand tighter.

Her green eyes flicker over him. "You need to get back to the infirmary, and-"

He brings his lips to hers.

There is a moment of shock before she kisses back, making hope spread through him.

She pulls away after . . . he doesn't know. "Why did you do that?" she asks, breathless.

Their eyes meet, once more. "I thought you were dead," he whispers.

She smiles and brings his face close to his. "I'm right here," she says quietly. "I'm not leaving."

Their lips come together, once again.