When Clint opens his eyes, it feels like he's been hit with Mjolnir. A cold, wet cloth is on his face. He lets out a groan, which is a mistake. The vibration of the groan hurts. He hears his partner's throaty laugh.

"You passed out. I came in and found you on the floor of our patient's room. Don't worry though. Our incredibly dangerous assassin didn't escape."

She moves the cloth off his face and smirks at him.

She is practically glowing.

"Tasha," He breathes.

She frowns at his tone.

"Hey, gorgeous." He grins at her and tries to touch her face.

With a speed that makes him dizzy, his hands are suddenly strapped to the bed rails.

Her frown deepens.

She produces a pen light from her pocket. She tells him sternly not to blink as she shines the light in his eyes. It hurts.

"это пиздец, Что случилось с вашим мозгом?"

She mutters, walking away from him.

She pulls out her phone, swearing when it goes to voicemail. "Мудак! ... Hi Bruce, this is Tasha again. I think Clint is really hurt. I called you earlier about this concussion and you said you could come help with the scans or whatever- He just- it seems like it is getting worse. What is your ETA? Just- call me back, okay?"

She hangs up and just stares down at the phone. That is how Natasha panics. She freezes and stares. She doesn't breathe. It had taken Clint two missions to notice when they first became partners. A live grenade had been thrown into a bunker with them. She had frozen and stared at it. Clint had thrown her across the room and slammed himself on top of her. After the explosion, he noticed she wasn't breathing. She stared up at him, unblinking. She could somehow panic herself out of existence.

"Nat?" He asks. His head hurts, he feels like he might throw up, and his partner is panicking for some reason.

She gasped and squared her shoulders.

"Right. I need help."

She throws one last look at Clint and is gone.