Author's Note: Special shoutout to Katie MacAlpine for reviewing every chapter so far! I very much appreciate it!

Trigger Warning: Vomit; Near death; Heat torture

Day Five
Every Whumpee's Needs
Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

"I found the holding cells," Natasha reported into her comm. after she took out the guards.

"Good," Steve said, the noise from the battle upstairs as he and Tony took down the organization in the background. "Let us know if you find him."

When I find him, Natasha corrected silently as she rushed to the first cell. They had been searching for Clint for days now and this was their only real lead. If he wasn't here… they would be right back to square one with nothing to go on.

Natasha yanked open the door to the first cell, which was unlocked. She was surprised to find that the metal door was much heavier than she had anticipated, finding that it was about three inches thick when she swung it open. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the door – completely solid with one small clear square at eye level so that a person could look into the cell. Inside, the cell was also completely solid without any windows. Natasha wasn't sure why, but something about the setup bothered her. There was no time to dwell on that though. After a quick scan of the small, empty space Natasha was rushing to the next cell.

Three cells opened without incident. Then she got to the fourth, which held fast. She had to strain up onto her tiptoes to see in the window… and immediately spotted a figure slumped at the back of the cell.

"I found him!" Natasha gasped, hardly able to believe her eyes.

"Thank God," Steve sighed. "We're almost done up here, we'll meet at your location."

Natasha was already going to work pulling explosives from a compartment at her belt and attaching them around the locking mechanism in the cell door. She set a timing and then quickly retreated. The explosion was small, just enough to break the lock and just a few moments later she was wrenching the door open.

"Clint!" she called as she rushed into the cell.

The first thing she noticed was the wave of heat that hit her like a wall of gelatin. The air inside the cell was thick and heavy around her, almost immediately stealing her breath away. The second thing she noticed was that Clint was slumped over on the floor – as if he were sitting and then just tipped over – and he wasn't moving.

"Clint?" Natasha gasped as she went to drop to her knees next to her partner, only to catch herself at the last moment from kneeling in the small puddle of bile that was next to Clint's head. "Shit," she hissed as she sidestepped the puddle and crouched down next to Clint.

Clint was shirtless and shoeless with sweat clinging to his flushed skin. Natasha reached out to feel his pulse, so shocked at how hot his skin was that she almost pulled back. But as her fingers found the pulse point in his neck, she felt a thready, but fast heartbeat. It wasn't a great sign… but he was still alive.

"Clint, Clint can you hear me?" Natasha tried, patting Clint's cheek firmly. It might have been her desperate imagination, but she could have sworn she saw his eyes flutter slightly.

"Okay, we're on our way to you," Steve said, causing Natasha to jump slightly as she had completely forgotten anything outside this cell had existed. "How's Clint?"

"Not good," Natasha said honestly, her voice grim. "It looks like they were using heat torture, the inside of his cell is hotter than hell. I think it's a safe bet he probably has heatstroke."

"Is he conscious?" Bruce asked. He had stayed back at the Quinjet as backup and for medical help if needed.

"No," Natasha said even as she continued to pat his cheek in an attempt to get him to come around. "I checked his pulse, it's fast and thready but it's there. He's also breathing but it sounds shallow."

"Is he sweating?" Bruce asked.

Natasha took a closer look, her stomach twisting at what she saw. "His skin is moist, but it seems to be drying up. So he was sweating recently but I don't think he is anymore. He also threw up at some point."

"See if you can get him out of the cell while you wait for Steve and Tony," Bruce said.

"On it," Natasha said, jumping to her feet.

She grabbed Clint's arms and pulled him up, carefully shifting him away from the puddle of vomit on the floor. As she did so, Clint's head moved as he moaned lowly. That was a good sign.

"C'mon, Clint, let's get you the hell out of here," Natasha murmured as she pulled him across the floor by his arms and out into the hallway. The hallway was significantly cooler than that damned cell, and for good measure Natasha kicked the door closed before settling Clint onto the cool stone floor. As she did, Clint's eyes fluttered. Natasha leaned closer, placing her hands on either side of Clint's face. "Clint? Can you hear me?" Clint's head drifted in her general direction and Natasha took that as a good sign. "It's okay, Clint, we've got you. You're going to be okay."

I hope… she added silently. Natasha knew how dangerous heatstroke was. She knew that the fact that he was no longer sweating was a very bad sign. But they couldn't have come this far to have it be too late to save him. They just couldn't have…

"'Tsha…"

For a moment, Natasha was convinced that she had imagined it. But then Clint's head shifted and his eyes squinted open, searching the space above him though he didn't seem to focus on anything.

"'Tasha…" Clint murmured again.

Relief washed over Natasha as she gripped his face even more firmly between her fingers. "I'm here," she assured him. "Steve and Tony are coming and then we're going to get you out of here. You're going to be okay, Clint."

"Natasha!" Natasha turned to see Steve and Tony hurrying down the hallway.

"He's starting to come around," she told them, unable to help the small, hopeful smile that pulled at her lips.

"Jesus, what did they try to cook him?" Tony demanded as his Iron Man suit scanned Clint. "Body temperature is 105.1"

"Get him back here as quick as you can," Bruce said. "We need to start cooling him down as fast as possible in order for him to have a chance."

"Here, I got him," Steve said, stepping forward and kneeling down next to Clint.

Natasha reluctantly moved away in order to give Steve room so thread one arm under Clint's shoulders and the other under his knees. As Steve lifted him, Clint gasped and moaned in pain, and Natasha could see his muscles clenching and spasming.

And then they were moving. The compound was frustratingly complex as they had to wind through an inordinate amount of hallways and several different sets of stairs, but finally they made it outside. Bruce had moved the Quinjet closer since the danger from the hostiles had passed, and he was waiting for them as they hurried up the ramp.

"Here, put him here," Bruce said, immediately taking control of the situation. "Tony, we need the closest SHIELD base."

"Already on it," Tony called back from the cockpit.

Steve carefully laid Clint out on the cot that Bruce had set up. But as he did, Clint's muscles continued to spasm strangely and he gasped and yelped with each unnatural movement.

"He's in pain," Natasha said unnecessarily.

"Muscle cramps," Bruce said shortly as he was already arranging ice packs around Clint's body. "It's a symptom of hyperthermia. Here, help me."

Natasha grabbed several of the ice packs and they worked together to surround Clint's body, putting extra around his neck, armpits and groin in order to cool his body down as quickly as they could. Clint protested the suddenly cold that he needed so desperately, his arms swatting weakly as some of the nearest ones.

"Clint, you're burning up," Natasha said as she readjusted the one that he had managed to knock out of place. Clint's head lolled in her general direction. "We need to cool you down before your organs start shutting down."

Clint blinked blankly up at her but thankfully didn't try to fight them any more.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Steve asked anxiously as he watched Bruce place an IV.

Bruce nodded. "I think we got to him just in time. Any longer and he may have been beyond bringing back."

Natasha let out a shaky but relieved breath. They had gotten so very lucky. She placed a comforting hand on Clint's bare shoulder. "We got you, Clint," she said with a smile. "We always got you."