Chapter 27


We got a ride to the Teberda District Hospital with one of the ambulance crews.

Upon our arrival, the doctors insisted on making sure neither Natasha nor I would suffer complications from the dust we'd inhaled. I explained that that wouldn't be an issue for me, and Natasha checked out alright after a careful examination.

While waiting for her to finish with the doctors, I went to the front desk to ask about Clint. The receptionist excused herself for a minute and returned with the news that he was in surgery, and would be for some time yet.

I related this information to Natasha when she rejoined me a couple of minutes later. She acknowledged the news with a tight nod and together we sat down in the hospital waiting room. There was a coffee table with a few out-of-date magazines and a TV turned down so low I couldn't hear the weather reporter.

I leaned my head back against the wall behind my chair and closed my eyes, taking in the smell of disinfectant with each breath. This part of the hospital was blissfully quiet.

Something bumped against my shoulder and I opened my eyes to find Natasha's head resting there. Her eyes were shut and her breathing was deep and even.

I carefully shifted into a position that was better for both of us and closed my eyes again, drifting asleep to the gentle murmur of the TV.


The clock on the wall read 12:11pm when I eventually woke up. My neck ached from spending too long at a bad angle and it twinged in annoyance as I raised my head.

Natasha stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled self-consciously as she sat up. "I didn't mean to use you as a pillow."

I shrugged, rubbing my neck. "It's fine."

The receptionist from earlier appeared in the doorway. "Your friend's out of surgery now," she said. "You can see him if you want."

Natasha was out of her seat before I'd formed a reply. We followed the girl to a third-floor ward and entered Room 6.

Clint lay sleeping in the room's single bed, hooked up to a bunch of IVs, monitors, and an NC for extra oxygen. His skin was very pale and all the stitches, bandages, and plaster casts left him looking like a half-wrapped Egyptian mummy, but the most important things were the steady beep of the heart monitor and the smile on the face of the middle-aged doctor standing on the other side of the bed.

Natasha hurried forward and took Clint's mostly uninjured right hand in hers. "How is he?" she asked the doctor anxiously.

The doctor counted on his fingers as he replied in accented English, "Nine broken or fractured bones, multiple cuts and contusions, second-degree burns, and a concussion. Your friend was very, very lucky."

"Will he be alright?" Natasha pressed.

The doctor nodded. "Barring complications, yes. He survived the shock of the injuries, which is the crucial thing. We've given him a blood transfusion, as well as pain relief. His vital signs are steady, so the most important thing now is plenty of rest."

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief.

I felt a huge weight vanish from my chest, allowing me to breathe freely for the first time in hours.

Part of me felt a stab of guilt for feeling so relieved when none of the other men who'd been in the hotel had survived. Most of them would have families whose lives were changed forever now, while Natasha and I had been incredibly fortunate. For once the unfairness of life had swung in my favor.

The doctor moved to excuse himself and Natasha stood to give him a brief hug, her eyes teary once more. "Thank you," she said huskily.

He patted her shoulder and gave me a smile as I nodded my gratitude. Hugs and handshakes weren't really my thing.

The doctor left and there was a moment of silence as Natasha sat in the chair beside Clint's bed and I watched the moving lines of the cardiogram.

"We have to keep moving," I said at last.

Natasha looked up, her expression serious. "Rogan," she said with a nod.

"Yeah." I'd forgotten about him and my clone these last few hectic hours, but they were still on the loose and someone had to do something about it.

"What is he doing in Berlin?" Natasha wondered out loud.

"He's got my clone with him, so he either wants protection or he wants to kill someone," I said.

"Or he wants to trick someone," Natasha added. She stood and moved to the doorway, calling over a young doctor who was crossing the hall. "Do you have a phone I can borrow?" she asked in Russian.

The doctor pulled a cellphone from her pocket and Natasha offered a word of thanks as she took it and opened a search browser.

"What are you looking for?" I asked as she tapped away at the screen.

"A lead," she replied in a voice that clearly said don't interrupt me.

I smiled quietly. That was the Natasha I knew.

There was a slight sound from the hospital bed, and the two of us turned to see Clint stirring slightly. His eyes blinked open and he stared up at us owlishly. "Hey."

A wide, relieved smile spread across Natasha's face, and she darted back to Clint's bedside. "Clint!"

The doctor whose phone Natasha was still holding hurried into the room, glancing at Clint's medicine chart and vitals monitor as she moved to the bed. "The anesthetic from surgery is wearing off," she told us. "I'll give him something so he can sleep some more."

Clint frowned at that, trying to turn his head to look at the doctor. "Wait a mo," he said, voice slightly slurred from the drugs.

"Please lie still, Mr. Barton," the doctor said, speaking English.

"Can I speak with him for a minute?" Natasha asked.

The doctor frowned. "Are you in any pain?" she asked Clint.

He shook his head. "Can't feel much of anything."

The doctor considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Just a couple of minutes." She moved back to the doorway to give Natasha and Clint some privacy to talk.

Clint reached out and took Natasha's hand in his own. "Gotta say," he said weakly, "not how I planned today going."

Natasha grinned.

"At least you made it out alright," Clint continued.

"That's all on Bucky," Natasha told him.

"Yeah?" Clint's gaze found mine and he said sincerely, "Thank you for that."

I nodded.

"So," Clint said with a sigh, "looks like you two are gonna have to finish this thing without me."

"Looks like it," Natasha agreed.

"I'll try not to be too upset," Clint joked. He shifted position slightly, then grimaced in pain. "Ow."

The doctor stepped forward once more. "He needs rest now."

Natasha nodded reluctantly, and Clint gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You've got this," he said. "You too, Barnes," he added to me. "Nice haircut, by the way. Suits you."

I shook my head at him, smiling despite myself.

He grinned back, then settled back against his pillows and let the new dose of meds pull him under.

Natasha watched her friend's sleeping face for a moment, then gently released his hand and turned back to searching the doctor's phone.

A minute later she said, "Gotcha," and looked up at me. "Tony's speaking at an international tech conference in Berlin this evening."

"You think Rogan's going after Stark?"

"I don't think his being there is a coincidence," she replied. "Think about it. If Rogan gets Tony under his control or cloned, he'll have access to the world's best weapons technology."

The implications of what she was saying weren't lost on me. Stark was the most powerful Avenger by right of his tech. If we lost him to Rogan, we'd lose the fight, possibly even the planet.

"We need to warn Stark," I said.

"On it." Natasha dialed a number on the borrowed cell and put it on speaker mode. It rang for a bit and then we heard Stark's voice.

"You've reached Tony Stark's phone. I'm currently too busy to speak to you, but you're welcome to leave a message after the tone or call back next month. Bye."

The phone beeped.

Natasha sighed. "Tony, it's Nat. Barnes and I think someone's after you. Don't go to the conference and stay alert. We'll explain everything soon." She hung up and gave me a worried look before ringing another number.

"Hello?" said Hendricks' voice.

"This is Romanoff," Natasha answered. "How fast can you get us to Berlin?"