"She told me how you were separated as kids. She was flying that plane. I asked her if she was scared. All she could think about was that you were safe."
They barely escaped with their lives. Now, awaiting extraction that was at least 24 hours away, Clint focused on trying to stem the blood that was gushing from Natasha's leg wound. His eyes were on the wound, and not on her face, because he didn't want her to see how furious he was.
She took a gunshot wound to the leg early on in the fight, having launched herself in front of an eight-year-old boy. It was all for naught, however, because the boy was shot in the head not 30 seconds later, while Natasha still lay on the ground, fighting unconsciousness.
They were near the exit, but not near enough. The building was set to detonate in less than a minute. Clint unleashed arrow after arrow, fighting to clear a path to the door, but he was hindered by his partner, who was trying to go back in.
"There are children in there!" Natasha had yelled.
Her eyes were shockingly wild, and Clint knew she was in no state to listen to reason. Normally, he'd have had no hope of dragging her anywhere against her will, but she couldn't walk and was rapidly growing weak from blood loss. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her bodily out of the building. No sooner were they clear did the world explode into flames, and then he was stumbling over the uneven ground, half-carrying, half-dragging his partner with him. She fought him all the way, deaf to reason, until they finally made it into the safe house. Both of them were covered in her blood.
"You're angry."
Clint still refused to look her in the eye. But he couldn't hide the way his hands stilled for a moment, shocked by how weak she sounded.
"You need fluids, Nat." He grabbed a bottle of water, his hand smearing blood all over it, and opened it for her with one hand. Her hand shook too much for her to hold it steady, so he lifted it to her lips for her with one hand, while the other continued to apply pressure to her wound. Lucky he was so coordinated.
She drank steadily, deliberately. She was beyond feeling thirst, but she knew she needed to hydrate. When half the bottle was gone, she waved it away. "Thank you," she said, her voice still weak. "And I'm sorry. I nearly got us both killed."
Clint's anger evaporated in an instant, and he finally looked up at her. There was pain in her eyes, pain that wasn't all from the leg wound.
"Nat, we couldn't have saved them."
A single tear ran down her cheek, and he felt an irrational twinge of annoyance. She was already hypovolemic. She couldn't waste any fluid on tears.
"I know," she choked out, and looked away.
They were silent for a long time. Clint finally felt that the bleeding was sufficiently under control to release his hands in favour of a compression bandage. His hands sufficient free, he hunted down some saline and an IV and set it up for Natasha, who was on the brink of unconsciousness once more.
"Stay with me, Nat," he commanded, though it came out as more of a plea.
"I'm tired."
This was bad. Natasha never admitted she was tired.
"I know, Nat," Clint said, trying to sound calm. "But just stay awake a little longer, okay? Tell me a story." As soon as the words left his mouth, he kicked himself. It was the textbook trick for keeping an injured person awake. But Natasha probably didn't have any good memories before he met her, and now he'd just made her think through the horrors for a story.
But to Clint's surprise, a fond smile appeared on Natasha's face. "There were fireflies in Ohio. My little sister loved them. Her name is Yelena."
Clint froze. He'd known she'd had a sister - she'd told him as much in the vents in Budapest. He knew about her undercover family too. But this was the first she'd spoken of them since, and he felt a strange warm glow about him. She really trusted him now.
"We had this secret whistle." Natasha hesitated. No one knew it but her and Yelena. Well, probably Melina. But it was secret for a reason. Yet this was Clint - strange, kind Clint who'd trusted her with his own very real, very vulnerable family. And in this life she lived, she could die at any time - today was solid proof of that. Someone should know. And that someone should be Clint.
Natasha whistled two notes, surprisingly crisp and clear for someone who'd lost about a litre of blood. "I'd whistle that. Then Yelena would-" Two more notes, this time a high note followed by a lower one. "That was ours. No one could take that whistle from us."
Clint nodded slowly, drinking in every word. He understood the significance of what she was telling him. "What happened?"
Natasha glanced away for a moment, a wave of sadness sweeping through her body. "The Red Room took her when Ohio was over." The words were laced with hatred and regret. "SHIELD came after us. We had this little getaway plane. Melina - our mother - she was shot. She called me to climb into the front. They were still shooting at us, but Melina talked me through flying the plane. We just made it out."
"Nat, I don't-." Clint's voice was as soft as a whisper. "Were - were you scared?"
Natasha thought about this for a moment. "I think I must have been. But Yelena was in the back of the plane. I knew I had to protect her, so I focused on that. Not that it did any good," she added bitterly. "They took us away when we landed in Cuba. They dragged us apart and I never saw her again. She was only six."
"I'm sorry, Nat."
Natasha looked at him, eyes wet with unshed tears. "Thank you."
"Do you know where she is now?"
Natasha shook her head. "No. It's better that way. This life we live is just so dangerous. And I don't know if I-" She caught herself before she said something that would make Clint even more concerned about her. "But sometimes I imagine her living a normal life, working in an office, going out with friends on the weekend. It's like a little video I play in my mind sometimes." The fond smile had returned to Natasha's lips, and Clint began to smile too.
"Maybe one day it will be safe to find her again," Clint suggested.
"Yes," Natasha agreed. "I hope so."