Ugh, sorry it took so long. I had to work all weekend and had no time to write, which was super frustrating because I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

On another note, this story has hit 100 reviews! I may have sealed a little bit…okay a lot.

You guys are so wonderful, without you I would have given up a loooon g time ago. So thank you!

Clint couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. She was awake!

The second night had been the worst. Her fever climbed dangerously high, and she went into convulsions. It had looked more and more like she might not last till morning. A doctor arrived from the states in the middle of the night, some expert in something; Clint hadn't really paid much attention to her. Coulson brought her in and she wasn't the friendliest of people and tried to kick him and Weiss out, but neither one of them would budge.

She was the kind of scientist that was more interested in solving the puzzle rather than helping the person. Well, whatever she did, it had helped and Clint could kiss the grouchy old lady. Natasha made it past the two day mark, her vitals steadily rising.

Weiss would come in for a couple of hours at a time to read for a while and force Clint to get out for a little bit. Clint would grab some food and be back within a couple of minutes. Weiss wrinkled him nose in disgust whenever he returned, "Go take a damn shower boy!"

But now her eyes were open and he had to laugh because he's never been so damn happy in his life to see a pair of pretty lube eyes.

"Never had a doubt." He said smugly, giving her a smile he knew she hated. But it was a wasted effort because she wasn't paying any attention to him.

The heart monitor began to beep furiously as she realized she was tied down to the bed, a precaution to keep her from harming herself or others, and panicked. Without thinking, Clint was by her side in an instant, attempting to calm her down while he worked to free her from the restraints. Coulson and Dr. what's-her-name would berate him for it later, but he figured he kind of owed it to her since he'd already knocked her out and tied her up twice now.

As soon as he got one of her hands free, he received a sound thwack to the nose that sent him reeling backwards. A couple of orderlies arrived just in time to see Natasha free herself completely and chuck the nearest object, a lamp from the side table, at them. It hit one square on the head, putting him on the ground.

Shit.

"Natasha!" Clint drew her attention toward briefly him earning him a coffeepot aimed at his head. He ducked out of the way and moved to pull the other guy away from her. She looked confused and absolutely furious. Never a good combination when it came to an agent with her particular skill set.

"Tasha," he spoke softly and took a step toward her. "Tasha, hey, it's-" Running out of things to throw, she chucked her pillow at him and scrambled off the side of the bed opposite of him, the monitor flat-lineing as she pulled away from the cords. Her feet touched ground and her legs gave out under her.

The idiot orderly was now closer to her and had produced syringe with a sedative. Natasha's eyes widen at the sight of it and then her face contorted in anger and she snarled at him as he approached.

Clint managed to reach the guy and haul him back by the collar of his shirt before he was able to lunge at her with that needle and sign his own death warrant. Clint shoved him toward the door, "Get your pal and get out of here! Let me deal with this." The guy gave a frightened nod and moved to drag out the other orderly who was unconscious in the ground.

Clint returned his attention to Natasha. She'd backed herself into a corner and looked like a frightened, caged animal, eyes wild and ready to fight. Clint walked slowly toward her, hands up a nonthreatening manner. He carefully reached out and switched off the annoying heart monitor, his eyes never leaving hers.

He got as close as he dared and crouched in front of her. She pulled back as far as she could manage.

"Tasha, do you know where you are?"

Her brow furled as she searched for an answer and came up with nothing. Her brain was all muddled, and she couldn't sort out the tangled mess that was her thoughts.

"You know who I am?"

No. Nothing. She needed a minute. Just leave her alone, let her catch her breath, reorder her thoughts.

"Clint, my name is Clint. You always call me Barton though, all formal and shit." he quirked a smile at her. "Sao Paulo? Our little side trip to the Ukraine? We're in Budapest now." He continued on, detailing her time at SHIELD, speaking gently and inching closer and closer.

She shouldn't be letting him get so close…but, it was helping, the talking. Slowly he painted a picture for her and bit by bit coaxed her back to her senses, providing her a roadmap for her thoughts.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump. "It's just me," his arm wound around her shoulders and pulled her to him and she didn't have the strength to fight it. He was solid and warm, and everything she felt she wasn't in that moment; so she let him hold her while she caught her breath and waited for the world right itself.

She couldn't remember the last time, if ever, someone held her like this, rocking gently, rubbing circles on her back, and murmuring in a low comforting voice. Surely there must have been a time. Everyone should be held like this. No objective to fulfill, no demands, no sexual advances, just a peaceful moment of rest from the cruel world. She relaxed into him, closing her eyes and focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Reluctantly, when she finally felt like herself again, she pulled away to look up at him. He met her gaze with a warm smile, and she reached up unconsciously to touch his face, drawing back at the last second. His nose was bleeding a bit, and dimly she remembered slamming the heel of her hand into his face.

"sorry," she said, barely audible.

He swiped his hand across his nose, pulling it back to examine the blood thoughtfully. Unexpectedly, he snorted in laughter, "No you're not," he shook his head a little. She wrinkled her nose at him and barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue.

"Let's get you back to bed," he moved to scoop her up into his arm.

"I'm fine," and to prove her point she used the wall and pulled herself to her feet, but her legs wouldn't hold her and she wound up in his arms when they collapsed under her. He cocked an eyebrow and gave her an I-told-you-so grin, so she flicked him on the nose.

"ow! Jeez." He whined, covering his nose and cursing excessively, an overreaction in her book.

"Well?" she gave him an expectant look.

"What?"

"Are you going to help me up or what?"

He grumbled under his breath, but dutifully pulled her to her feet and let her lean on him while they walked over to the bed because she refused to let him pick her up. Once she was settled on the bed, she sagged in exhaustion, her frantic outburst taking its toll.

"Hand me my pillow," she commanded wearily.

"Oh, you mean the one you chucked at my face?" he complained, scooping up the pillow and placing it behind her with a huff.

"Good, now go get me some water."

"I'm not your maid."

She swatted at him and managed to lightly cuff his ear as he tried to dodge.

"You're such a bully," he threw over his shoulder, on his way to do her bidding.

"Wouldn't do it if it didn't work so well," she mumbled.

Clint returned a moment later with a pitcher to find her fast asleep. Setting the pitcher on the side table, he pulled the blanket over her. Lightly brushing back her hair, something he was certain she would never allow were she awake, he took a moment to revel in the fact that she was going to be alright.