Everyone has fallen asleep; faint moonlight spills through a crack in the curtains. Natasha alone is awake, keeping her silent vigil. Waiting.
Over the past few hours, Jarvis has reported that his vitals are dropping slowly. Natasha knows this, had expected this, but hope is still cruelly present in her heart.
She shifts a little, adjusting her grip on his hand, when the impossible happens.
He stirs, moaning, and falls silent again. As she watches, frozen, his eyes flicker open suddenly.
Jarvis starts speaking at an impossible rate, but she tunes him out. The rest of the team is jerking awake, each of them talking over each other, but she has eyes only for him.
Tears of pain force their way past scrunched eyelids, his face is twisted as he fights to control the reaction of agony and shock, but she can only feel overwhelming relief.
He's alive. They can deal with everything – and anything – else.