As it turns out, Natasha will be fine. The blood loss made it touch and go for awhile, but she's out of the woods. Some broken ribs and lots of bruises, but nothing she can't easily handle.
It's Clint who is in danger.
Bruce takes off his glasses, automatically cleaning them on the hem of his shirt. Instead of replacing them immediately, he massages his eyes with his other hand, trying to soothe The Other Guy by telling him Clint will be fine. For some reason the other guy has taken a liking to Hawkeye, more so than any of the other Avengers, though Bruce can feel his affection for them.
Truth is, though, he doesn't know for sure that Clint won't die. He can't believe the archer made it to safety, carrying Natasha to boot. Besides the fractured wrist, he's suffering a dangerous concussion; a punctured lung; and four destroyed ribs. His face looks like ground hamburger.
Bruce sighs. It breaks his heart to see them like this. Natasha is carefully, so carefully curled around him, her hand in his good one. They look so peaceful. But Bruce knows better; it's restful sleep for Natasha, but for Clint…it's a blanket of death.
They're going to lose him. He hasn't told any of the others, and especially not Nat…but Clint can't possibly hold on through the night.
A deep, inhuman growl rattles his head, and he blinks away the green he knows must be showing in his eyes. For once he completely agrees with the other guy.
Not without a fight.