Death was predictable, eventually coming to everyone, and every single agent at SHIELD had walked its shadow at some point during their career. One step in another direction, one seconds delay in ducking behind cover and almost any of them could have had their name added to the list of fallen agents that adorned the foyer of their headquarters. Death was messy and it was usually painful, both for the victim and for the people they left behind.
Once again a section of the medical wing had been closed off to prevent others from trying to find out what was happening within. The rumours had started to circulate the moment that they had been brought in and staff had caught a glimpse of Barton's ravaged face as he limped alongside the gurney carrying his partner.
Though nobody knew the whole truth of where they had been or what they had done, it didn't take long for some of the truth to seep out. Details leaked from the extraction team, stories of bodies found within the halls of a compound in the deserts of New Mexico, rumours that others associated with the same group had been executed in other locations around the country. The fact that Fury and Hill slapped those who had went to collect them with silence orders only added fuel to the fire.
When Natasha Romanoff finally opened her eyes, almost seventy-two hours after being air lifted out of the deserts of New Mexico, she did so with the certainty that the whiteness of her surroundings signified some sort of limbo between life and death. It took a few seconds before she realised that she was in a clinic and that the light that surrounded her came from the lamps around her bed rather than a conjured image of the afterlife. She felt like hell, pain and nausea competing for airtime as she tried to remember what had happened.
Somewhere nearby monitors beeped and chirped, and to the left she heard the familiar snapping sound of surgical gloves but exhaustion prevented her from being overly concerned about it. Experimentally, she tried to shift her position but found that she couldn't. Pain and dizziness assaulted her and a pair of familiar, steady brown eyes appeared in her line of vision. On the surface Carter's expression was calm, unflappable, but Natasha saw through it to the relief that lay beneath. She'd had the doctor worried. Memory returned as pain flared in her abdomen, making it difficult to draw a good breath. She had been stabbed during her fight with William Brady, she remembered the burning agony of the wound and the blood that had stained her hands. It felt like someone had parked a car in her stomach, a rusty car with sharp edges.
"Try not to move," Carter advised, voice calm. "You have no idea how hard I had to work to find that bleeder in your gut and fix it, I'm not about to let you tear it open again."
There was genuine warmth in the doctor's voice and Natasha found herself relieved to find herself under her care rather than the care of one of the others who frequented SHIELD's infirmary. They had reached a stage in their doctor patient relationship where should could admit that she trusted the woman's judgement and almost considered her a friend. Carter was also the only one who knew the full story of Natasha's recent medical history. "Barton?" she asked, voice emerging as a breathless whisper. She didn't need to elaborate, Carter knew exactly what she wanted to know.
With an inclination of her head she drew Natasha's gaze to the left where another bed had been set up. Clint was asleep, or possibly unconscious, amid the blankets, his injured leg protruding from the covers and elevated by a sling. His face was turned toward hers as if he had fallen asleep watching her and though his eyes were closed he looked far from restful, if anything he looked like he had lived beyond the limits of his endurance for some time. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes and a slight frown possessed his features. She didn't like the pallor of his skin, which made his bruises stand out sharply, and she was concerned by the slight sheen of perspiration that clung to his brow, but the sight of him made her the pain in her chest ease a little. The monitors around the bed chirped, alerting the room to a spike in her heart rate, her emotions broadcast to the room. She might have cut her treacherous heart out of her chest if only she'd had the means to do it within reach. If the doctor understood the real meaning of the reaction, she wasn't saying anything which further proved to Natasha that Dr Carter was a wise woman indeed.
"He's okay," Carter assured her, "though you've both been in the wars."
Natasha tried to remember that night in the compound but there were gaps in the memory, details that she couldn't remember. She frowned, searching for the memories that were missing but coming up blank. Images danced on the edge of her memory, vague and elusive, before slipping away again. How had they gotten out of the building? "I don't remember," she admitted, hearing the slight edge of fear in her voice. She'd always hated having gaps in her memory, it made her feel vulnerable and too like the half feral woman who had escaped from the Red Room.
"Barton carried you out," Carter explained, "he's been right here the whole time you've been out, a real pain in my ass, refused to let us treat him until he knew that you'd made it through the surgery..." The good-natured exasperation in the doctor's eyes would have drawn a smile to Natasha's lips if she could have summoned the strength to form one. "As for what happened before the team arrived to pick you up, you'll have to ask him."
"His leg?" she asked, worried that accompanying her while injured might have caused him long-term damage.
Carter chuckled, checking the dosage on the IV that was attached to Natasha's arm. "She codes twice on the table and she's worried about her partner..." With a shake of her head, she looked back to her patient. "He'll be fine, no long-term damage. He would have been fine if he hadn't taken a screwdriver hit, we had to operate to remove the tip of the blade from the muscle. He's been under light sedation to make sure that he stays in bed. Putting you both in the same room was the only way I could get him to stay put long enough for the muscle to heal, couple of days and he'll be back on his feet."
While the doctor worked, Natasha listened to the chirping of the machines that were monitoring her vitals and breathed around the pain that hovered on the edges of her awareness. Other doctors would have insisted on separating them but Carter had known that the only thing that had kept Natasha going in recent months was the support of the man in the next bed, she alone would appreciate the strength of the ties that bound them. She had seen and commented on their connection to one another and had utilised it to make sure that she gave them both the best chance of healing. Giving them Carter as their medic had been a stroke of genius, she wondered who she had to thank for it.
Eyelids fluttering, Natasha realised that she couldn't stay awake much longer. There were answers that she needed before she lost consciousness again. "How long was I out?" she asked, feeling the tide of sleep beginning to pull her under. Idly she wondered whether it was a natural pull or whether the doctor had given her something that was helping her along. She didn't fight it, sleep was a powerful tool for the regeneration of the human body and she wanted to be up and out of the infirmary as soon as humanly possible.
"It's been three days," Carter replied, "but part of that was medically induced. Any movement could have potentially torn the sutures I put in place, we couldn't risk another bleed. I've been close by the entire time, seems Hill has assigned me to the pair of you. All of your medical needs are mine to deal with from this point forward, something about the pair of you traumatising the other doctors..."
Carter's hand came to rest on Natasha's shoulder, her expression one of mild amusement. Natasha found her eyes growing heavier. She got the distinct impression that the doctor didn't consider handling two of SHIELD's most reluctant patients to be a hardship. She was certain that having someone like Carter as their physician would make her trips to medical a lot more tolerable. "Don't fight it Natasha, your body needs time to recuperate," Carter told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "Sleep, I'll be keeping watch over you both."