Hi guys! Just a short one to get some things that need addressing out of the way. Sorry in advance for all the angst. Once again, a big thank you to VioletK for her feedback.

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After that, there was only an overpowering need to get to her. Turns out a surge of adrenaline and panic can work wonders- the guards, which had been formidable enemies only seconds before, began dropping like flies. He was by her side as soon as humanly possible, gently turning her over despite how internally frantic he was. He took a microsecond to look her over. If he could ignore the soot and dust streaked across her face and the pebbles in her hair, he might have thought she was sleeping. Praying to a god he had given up on more than a decade ago, he lowered his hand, pressing his thumb firmly to the underside of her wrist. There was no movement. Refusing to give up, Clint rocked back and forth on his heels, wiping at his eyes rigorously with the hand that wasn't gripping hers. "No, no, no, come on Tash…" he babbled, slapping the fingers of his other hand down on the side of her neck. For a few terrifying seconds, he felt nothing.

Then, fluttering beneath his fingertips was the weak and erratic hammering of a pulse.

Coulson sat ramrod strait aboard a SHIELD cargo plane (it was the best that he could muster in the time he had), trying to keep a calm and stoic expression fixed on his face. After he landed in the carnage of what used to be a drug cartel's secondary facility, Barton had come running up, his incapacitated partner in his arms. After boarding, he had refused to let her go for even a second, clutching her hand like a lifeline even when the medic was running his tests. In fact, he had taken his eyes off her face only to calmly tell the medic, rather explicitly, what fate would befall him if he let her die. Needless to say the kid worked a little more diligently after that.

They had been told there appeared to be no internal damage, but at the very best she would have a massive concussion when she came to. However, this all needed to be checked again as soon as they got to a hospital. When the young doctor had tried informing them gently that she might not regain consciousness, Coulson had had to physically restrain Barton, who had let loose such a string of vicious profanity it was a miracle the man didn't pass out himself. Coulson had to shake his head wryly at that- although the general consensus on base was that Romanoff was by far the more vicious of the two, Barton could certainly have given her a run for her money at that point.

But there was something very curious and decidedly odd about the whole situation. Coulson had worked with many, many agents during his time as handler. He had seen more of them injured or killed than he would like to count, but none of them had reacted quite like Barton had. Even now, he had a hand entwined with one of hers, thumb rubbing gentle circles over her knuckles, her name a silent prayer falling from his lips.

There was definitely something else there, and Coulson kicked himself for not noticing it sooner and nipping it in the bud.

He was not looking forward to the conversation he was going to have with Barton when they got back to HQ.

Clint slouched in the hard plastic chair, looking over at his partner. Lying in a hospital bed under the florescent lights, she looked pale and small- weak was the word that came to mind, Clint thought bitterly, clenching his fists. Natasha Romanoff was anything but weak, as she was fond of reminding everyone. But in this instance, she was completely helpless.

A doctor came in then, throwing a reproving glance his way. Clint glared back and he scurried away, pretending to be busy with rearranging antiseptics. Normally such a reaction would be funny, but right now Clint was anything but amused. He had been sitting in there for almost two days, dozing off for a few hours at a time only to be wrenched awake screaming by reliving every single incident in the last three years that had brought her close to death. He probably looked like a caveman as well, but he didn't care. All that mattered was her, and he'd be damned if he left for even a second before she woke up.

Settling down for another weary night, he caught one of her small hands between his, reveling in the warmth of it, solid proof that she was still hanging in there. Bringing it to his lips, he dropped a soft kiss to her palm. "Come back to me Tash," he mumbled before twining his fingers with hers, letting the warmth and steady beep of the heart monitor lull him off to sleep.

To the writers of all of the frantic reviews I got this week: you didn't really think I would kill off Natasha, did you? I'm not big on character deaths in general, and Natasha is too awesome to die.

Anyway, please review!