Let the plot move along! Also, if you haven't taken a look at "Hope Rising," you're going to want to within the next few chapters. I'll try to keep everyone up to speed, but it's just easier if you've read it.
Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. I do try to do the appropriate research for my writing, but the fact remains that I simply don't have the inclination/talent/sheer guts to go to medical school, so there will probably be mistakes. Just go with it
Asa thought maybe she was awake. It was hard to tell, because it was warm and she was very comfortable, and there seemed to be a conversation going on somewhere over her head. She was quite sure that it was just her and Clint in the cell, though, and she'd been sleeping on the floor. So maybe she was still sleeping?
"Miss? Can you hear me?"
Asa groaned. She could. She just didn't want to. She wanted to go back to sleep.
"Very good. Can you talk?"
She groaned again. Maybe if she pretended she was incoherent, the voice would leave her alone. There was a pause, then the voice- a man's, she thought- started talking again, but not to her this time.
"She should be lucid by now. Set up the TBI, we need more information."
TBI? That wasn't an acronym she was familiar with. Curious, she opened one eye.
She was definitely in a hospital. A real one, this time, though far more comfortable than any hospital she'd ever been in. A man in a lab coat, a doctor, she assumed, stood next to her bed. Another man, probably a nurse, scribbled notes on her chart. The walls were tastefully wallpapered, and the lights were too warm for a standard sterile hospital. She even had real sheets and blankets on her bed, not the cheap plastic-wrapped kind.
She opened and closed her mouth a few times, working out how to use it again. Finally, she croaked, "TBI?"
The men turned startled. The doctor smiled warmly.
"Excellent. I'm glad to see you awake. TBI stands for Total Body Imager. Rather a simplistic name, but it's Stark's technology, so he gets to name it. It uses a combination of scanning and resonance technologies to create a virtual reproduction of the body. Lets us see everything from the brain to the toes."
"Oh." Asa's eyebrows furrowed. "Where… where am I?"
"Ah." The doctor looked away. "I'm not sure that I'm supposed to tell you that."
She wanted to argue, but she felt dizzy and neither her mouth nor her brain were working terribly well, so she refrained.
"You're safe, though. I promise."
"And Clint?" She didn't look up.
"He's going to be fine."
Asa let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. And with that, she promptly fell back to sleep.
This time, when she woke up, the doctor was nowhere to be found. She felt a little better, so she cautiously propped herself up on the headboard. Looking around, she started when she realized that she had company.
The man sat in the corner, looking menacing and watching her closely with his one good eye. She returned his stare with a surprising lack of fear. She was too tired to spend energy being afraid of someone who hadn't done anything except watch her.
"Asalynn Liretto."
Asa winced. She wondered if she would ever get used to using her last name again?
"Asa."
The man nodded.
"You're a talented individual, Asa. Are you aware of that?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Asa blinked in surprise.
"Wait, what?" Talented? At what? Dancing? Getting kidnapped?
"The world has never seen a healer of your potential."
The words were not what she had been expecting, and she let out a whumph of breath, as if she'd been hit in the stomach.
"What on earth? I'm just an intern! I'm not even the best intern in my program," she protested, almost more to herself than to him. The man pulled out a manila folder and held it in his lap.
"You're not the top intern. But you are undoubtedly the best."
This man, with his folder and his eye patch and his calm know-it-all attitude, was getting on her nerves. But she refused to show even as much weakness as a deep breath, and kept her voice level.
"And what makes you think that?"
The man considered her silently for a long moment. Asa had the feeling she was being weighed, measured, and tested. When he spoke, she thought that she had not been found wanting.
"Are you aware of Agent Barton's medical condition?"
Asa sat straight up.
"Wait, the doctor told me he was okay? Has his condition changed?"
The man held out a hand reassuringly.
"No. He's fine. That's what's incredible. After what that man has been through, he should be comatose at best. He should not be fully lucid and impatient for a complete recovery. He absolutely should not be able to use his left hand. So what I want to know, is what did you do?"
Asa relaxed back into her pillows.
"Um, not much. There wasn't a lot I could do. Tried to keep things clean, mostly, and stop the bleeding. Tried to immobilize a few sprains and keep him hydrated. His hand, though… what's the prognosis?"
The man stood.
"Why don't you come see?"
Slowly, carefully, Asa pushed back her covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. They dangled off the edge, of course, but she could tell that the smooth cream tile would be cold underfoot. Thankfully, she was wearing something resembling white scrubs, and not one of those flimsy hospital gowns. She sighed, and slipped off the edge of the bed. She took a few cautious steps, and pleased with her body's response, returned her attention to the man.
"Wow. How long was I out?"
"At least a week. You were seriously malnourished, and-"
"My body defended itself by going into starvation mode until I'd gotten enough nutrients. Yeah, I know. I was probably suffering from pretty severe exhaustion, too."
The man nodded, then held out a hand.
"Agent Nick Fury."
She didn't pause to eye the hand before she shook it.
"Pleased to meet you. I guess."
"Shall we?"
Thankfully, Clint's room wasn't far. The hallways were clean and well-lit, but lacked the glaring sterility of hospitals. More like a military base, she thought. Clint had said something about a headquarters. There'd been an acronym, too, but she could not at this moment remember what it was. The door that Agent Fury led her to was the automatic slide-y kind, and Asa shied away from it, then made a face and forced herself through it. It helped if she held her breath, like she was driving under a bridge.
Clint's room was just as comfortable as hers. She wondered if this was standard medical procedure here, or if it was just for people who were expected to sleep for a week straight?
Clint himself was asleep. She had crossed to his bed in two steps, and it suddenly hit her how truly awful he looked. The whole time with Liretto, she'd been calm, clinical. It was the only way she could help him.
Now she saw, with perfect clarity, exactly what had been done to him.
He looked exhausted. His cheeks were hollow, and there was deep bruising under his eyes. The cuts on his face had been neatly sutured and bandaged, but splashes of red, blue and purple stretched from behind his right eye all the way down to his jaw line. His hand, where it sat on top of his blankets, was wrapped in thick layers of white plaster all the way up past his elbow. She knew that the rest of him, not visible at this moment, was one massive patchwork of abuse. His breathing was shallow, and he slept lightly, feverishly.
Asa fought back the urge to vomit, and had to sit quickly on the edge of the bed as the world tilted around her. She closed her eyes and focused on not hyperventilating. When she felt a little calmer, she made herself stand, and in order to avoid looking at Agent Fury, crossed to the chart hanging on the end of his bed. She flipped through it with quick efficiency, then set it back with a sigh.
"He's going to be fine. I think he's probably going to need more PT- sorry, physical therapy- than they have scheduled, but his tendons are healing remarkably fast."
She knew that Agent Fury knew all of this, but saying it out loud made her feel more in control.
"Yes, they are. What I want to know is how you knew they would."
Asa looked up and blinked in genuine surprise.
"I didn't."
"Any other doctor would've just set the bones and hoped for the best. You saved the hand. Agent Barton has been the subject of some… alterations, designed to aid his marksmanship. Including improved resilience in the muscles and tendons of the hand. So I repeat, how did you know?"
Asa shook her head slowly, and took her time before answering, trying to work through the tangle of her thoughts.
Fury interrupted her again.
"I should make it clear, Asa, that I'm not accusing you of anything. Our sources are quite sure that you're not a spy or an enemy agent. But the fact remains that you knew, without medical equipment or having to ask, that this was the best procedure for Agent Barton."
"I didn't know. I… suspected, I guess. It just felt right."
"Hardly an acceptable justification for performing surgery, Dr. Liretto."
Asa winced again.
"Asa, please."
Agent Fury just watched her silently.
"Okay, fine. I know it's not. I know better, I swear I do. It was just… there was nothing I could do! And she knew it! That goddam bitch knew there was nothing I could do!" At some point during this, Asa had ended up on the floor, back to the wall. And for the first time, she cried.
She didn't care that she was on the floor in the hospital room, that Agent Fury was watching her, that she was going to be fine. She sobbed like a child, great heaving gasps of breath and runny nose and probably splotchy skin. She cried until she ran out of tears, and felt a little better after. She wiped her face with her hands and stood shakily. She couldn't look at Fury.
"Um, sorry. About that. I… sorry."
She thought she'd never been more embarrassed in her life.
"Are you finished?"
A little bit of anger hardened in her stomach, and she was grateful for it.
"Leave her alone." Asa turned to Clint in surprise. His eyes were closed, but he was obviously awake. The monitors that tracked all of his stats had shifted slightly. She crossed to the sink and washed her hands quickly, then pulled a flashlight out of a cupboard. She walked briskly to his bedside, but when she tried to pull one of his eyelids opened, he turned his head and made a noise of protest. So instead, so took his pulse the old fashioned way, and felt his forehead.
"You're awake! How do you feel?"
"Like hell. Like you. What are you doing here?" It took Asa a second to realize that he was talking to Agent Fury and not to her.
"Asa was concerned about you. I brought her here."
"And made her cry. God, Fury, what is it with you?"
Fury ignored him, and addressed Asa.
"You should get back to bed, and I'd like to talk to you a bit more. Privately. If you don't mind?" He held the door open for her.
Clint cracked one eye open.
"Don't let him get to you. The crying… Well, it's good that you can feel it. Means you're healing."
"And you? How do you feel?"
"Told you. Like hell."
"Good. Let me know when you start itching. That means the bandages are ready to come off." She smiled and winked at him before she walked out.
She settled back into her bed, and Fury returned to his chair in the corner. She would've taken the other chair, but she didn't think she was up to it. Besides, this was her room, and she was going to act in it however she pleased.
"You said you wanted to talk to me."
"Yes. Asa, do you know what S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for?"
Ah! That was the acronym she'd forgotten.
"No. But I do remember Clint mentioning it."
"Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. Do you know what we do?"
Asa shrugged. "Protecting, I would guess. You know, from the name. Top secret, save the world kind of stuff."
"You're right, more or less. S.H.I.E.L.D. has any number of projects, most of which are… delicate in nature. One of these is the Avengers Initiative."
Asa nodded. "Yeah, I've heard of them. They were all over the T.V. Clint's one, yeah? Hawkeye?"
Fury inclined his head once.
"They're a… unique group of people. You might not even call them people. But they're the best protection this world has against things it can't possibly understand."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Okay… and why are you telling me this?"
"I want you to join them."
Asa choked on her own breath, coughed for a few minutes, then spluttered, "What?"
Fury stood and paced slowly.
"We've always known that the Avengers were… volatile. The longer they work together, the more reckless they become. Injuries are becoming more and more common. Frankly, Asa, they need someone to keep them alive." As he said this, he stopped, and just looked at her.
The silence stretched, and Asa finally ducked her head.
"And what makes you think I could possibly be that person?"
Fury started pacing again.
"What you did with Agent Barton was incredible. There was no way you could have known about his improved hands, but you did. I've checked the rest of your work history; when doctors follow your suggestions, people get better faster. We took the liberty of some scans while you were unconscious." He crossed back to the folder on the chair. Asa wasn't sure whether to be offended about the invasion of privacy, but finally decided that a few brain scans were the least of her problems. "This is your brain." He held out a print of the scan. Asa took it curiously.
"But, that's not possible." She'd never seen a scan like it before. "This is not my brain."
"Yes, it is. You are what laymen call a mutant."
Asa gasped. "Excuse me?"
"A mutant is a person who is born somehow different than the average person. Sometimes, the difference is physical and very obvious. Other times, the differences are much subtler. Very occasionally, the mutations are entirely mental, as in your case. As far as we can tell, you have an extra sense."
"Explain."
"This section of the brain?" He tapped the anomaly. "It controls perception and interpretation of the senses." Asa nodded. She wasn't a brain surgeon, but she could correctly identify the areas of the brain. "Thankfully, this doesn't affect all of your senses all the time. It appears only to allow you to perceive details about people that others do not. Because you have no frame of reference for this knowledge, it translates as an instinct, or an impulse."
Asa scowled, then her training caught up with her, and she considered it. She nodded slowly.
"That would make sense… but what kind of details?"
"Well, Agent Barton's hand, for one. In another instance, you seemed to realize that a woman's veins were particularly weak, and favored a much milder drug about a more standard one. You regularly give left-handed people shots in the right arm, without needing to ask which their dominant. Your career is littered with cases like these."
"But…" Asa trailed off. Her instincts were not to be trusted. Not ever. Not when they told her the exact opposite of what she knew she ought to do. For a second, she could feel an arrow shaft in her hand.
"No two human beings are exactly the same, and you seem uniquely suited to find these differences. We think that this ability will prove most useful when the differences are the most extreme."
"Like the Avengers."
"Like the Avengers."
Asa swallowed hard, and made herself look up and meet his gaze.
"And if I say no?"
There was another of those long silences.
"Then S.H.I.E.L.D. will return you to your former life, including helping you find another internship."
Asa looked down at her hands and plucked at her blankets.
"I'll have to think about it."
Fury nodded once.
"Of course. Feel free to visit Agent Barton, though both of you still need rest."
"Thank you."
Fury turned off the lights when he left, and Asa was left in the dark, full of the greatest tangle of thoughts and emotions she'd ever known. After chasing herself around in circles for the better part of an hour, she finally fell asleep.
Asa felt better the next day. That week of sleep had done her a world of good, and of course, she'd never suffered the same abuse that Clint had. Upon further exploration, her room proved to have an attached bathroom. When she approached the mirror, she was surprised at her own reflection.
She'd never been skinnier, she thought with an attempt at good humor. Too skinny. Her cheekbones stuck out oddly, and her eyes sat a little deeper than she was used to. She had a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing too out of the ordinary for someone with her level of clumsiness. They were healing nicely, and would probably be gone by the end of the week. Mostly, she looked tired. Some good sleep, and a few solid meals, and she would be back to more or less normal.
She told herself the haunted look would fade, too.
The biggest change, though, was her hair. She hadn't had hair longer than her chin since before she'd graduated high school. Now, dark curls tickled her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it, pulled it up off of her neck and piled it on top of her head. She turned her head one way, then the other. It was going to be a right pain, which is why she'd cut it off in the first place, but she had to admit that it was kind of pretty.
As she stared at herself in the mirror, she wondered about Fury's job offer. It was true that really, she wouldn't be leaving much behind. Her only family was her dad, and she was attached neither to her internship nor her roommates. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, personal physician to the world's mightiest heroes. She snorted, laughing. That was a thought.
So what was holding her back?
She tried to tell herself that it was all just too much, too fast. She'd get used to the idea. They couldn't expect her to change her entire life in one day! But the honest part of her knew that even despite all that, she should be excited, if not ecstatic. No, the reason she was so reluctant had much less to do with what she would be leaving behind and much more to do with what she'd be getting into. She sighed, then let down her hair, braided it quickly, and set out in search of Clint.
The door was easy to find, and she had to hold her breath to get through again. He was awake when she got there, and the doctor from the other day was there, examining him.
"Ah, Miss Liretto."
"Asa, please." She was glad that she was already used to going by Asa.
"Asa. Good to see you up and about. Officially, you can be released at any time. Just make sure that you get plenty of sleep and water, and don't strain yourself. But I don't have to tell you that."
Asa shook her head with a smile.
"No. And how's our patient doing?" She reached out with the force of habit for the chart in the doctor's hand. He pulled it away gently.
"He's doing fine. Right, Agent Barton?"
Clint nodded. He still looked tired, but he was definitely fully lucid and he didn't seem to be hooked up to any pain medications. Asa glanced up at the doctor.
"No drip?"
He shook his head. "Agent Barton prefers to do without medication."
"What about nutrition?"
"He's been eating reg-"
"Three meals a day," Clint interrupted. "And Doctor Jones says I can be up and about tomorrow, if I don't push it."
"I agree. And how's your hand?"
He shrugged, and wouldn't look at her.
"I can't move it yet."
Asa smiled. "Of course not. After all that trouble I went through to make sure the bones set right? You'd better let that heal itself, young man."
This time he did look at her, and held her gaze.
"Thank you." He glanced down at a mottling bruise on her arm, and she knew he wasn't just thanking her for the surgery. He knew what she'd had to do for the tools, or been told. Her smile lost its humor, but not its sincerity.
"You're welcome."
They had a briefing that afternoon, in Clint's room. Fury was there, and two women. The dark-haired one, who looked like she was serious about getting stuff done, was Agent Hill. The other, who was beautiful and sat next to Clint and Asa had to tell herself not to be jealous of, was Agent Natasha Romanoff. Asa's heart gave a little pang when Fury introduced her.
Asa wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it mostly just consisted of both of them telling Fury and the other agents what had happened. Asa had stumbled a little, but she sat in a chair facing Clint, and he nodded encouragingly at her whenever she struggled. Natasha just stared at her, not a glare, but hostile nonetheless. Clint never stuttered, but spoke in a flat, calm voice that set Asa on edge.
After they spoke, it was Fury's turn. He told them how they'd finally managed to track the quinjet, back to Liretto's lair, but it was far too heavily guarded to break them out. So they'd decided to come up with a plan. Two months later, all of the guards had simply disappeared. Deciding this was a chance too good to pass up, S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent a team in to break them out.
It had required little to no breaking. The entire base had been deserted. They had no explanations at this time.
Asa didn't really care. She was safe, and Clint was safe, and now all she had to worry about was whether to go home or stay here and join the Avengers.
She sighed. Responsibility for the lives of some of the most important, dangerous people alive? This wasn't going to be an easy decision.
After the briefing, Agent Hill took her to her new quarters, then left her with directions to the cafeteria. A bit of exploring revealed a Spartan, if sleek, arrangement. The tiny bathroom was nothing more than a shower, toilet, sink and mirror, with a single cupboard containing a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a box of tampons. She closed the cupboard hurriedly. The shower was no better, with nothing more than shampoo, conditioner, and body wash- the dollar store kinds. Asa wondered idly who did the shopping for super-secret intelligences headquarters?
The room was small, and all of the furniture was part of the walls, including the bed, the desk with its transparent computer screen, and the closet. Asa couldn't bring herself to touch the drawers set into the wall next to the closet. The only freestanding object was the roll-y office chair, which she amused herself with for a while before inspecting the closet. It was small, but still looked empty. There were a few sets of scrubs in various shades of white and blue, a couple of sets of casual wear, a single black jacket, two pairs of sneakers- one white, one black- and a lab coat. This last Asa yanked off the hanger and shoved her arms through. In her opinion, there was nothing in this world more delightful than a good lab coat, and this one was excellent. It hung close to her body in the most flattering way and had an over-abundance of pockets. There was even little ID card clipped on the breast pocket, with her picture and name.
After she was sure she'd found everything in the room except pajamas and underthings, which she was quite sure would be in the drawers. So she just crawled into bed, and when she couldn't reach the light switch, she fell asleep with the lights on.
Over the next week, Asa gradually reset her internal clock. She slept at least ten hours every night, and ate copious amounts of surprisingly good food in the cafeteria. Dr. Jones was kind enough to let her make rounds with him, and she gained a solid respect for him, both as a talented physician, and a remarkable man. It felt good to be working again, and she loved wearing the lab coat. Dr. Jones had a way with the agents, who tended to be surly and refuse pain medication, which Asa did her best to emulate. She learned more about wound & trauma care than she had working in the E.R.
She thought about dancing, but told herself she was still recovering and shouldn't push it.
She visited Clint every day, and always checked his chart and his vitals in spite of her confidence in Dr. Jones's abilities. Sometimes, they sat together in silence, and sometimes they talked, usually about silly trivial things. When anything came up that reminded Asa of Liretto, like the sliding doors or dull suture needles or dancing, Clint would watch her silently, until she reluctantly opened up and talked it through. It felt like pulling out a splinter, except on a much larger, more painful scale. She was grateful for his unspoken kindness, and was anxious to return it. But Clint seemed to have no need to discuss anything, and he finally told her that he'd done this before, would likely do it again, and he was fine. It took her awhile to finally realize that mostly, he was telling the truth. He hadn't broken under the pressure, and so the abuse hadn't scarred him the way it had her. She wondered what his life had been like, that this would really bother him so little. It made her heart hurt.
The more time they spent together, the more her heart hurt. She knew that one of a doctor's greatest tools could be their compassion, but she also knew how important it was to not become attached. It wasn't until they'd been there a full week before she realized that she was attached, and there was no use fighting it. They had been through hell together, and she loved him.
He was sitting propped up in his bed, his good hand behind his head, when she realized this. The feeling was so unexpected and so strong that she froze in panic. She loved him. The thought of anything happening to him made her stomach twist. She shifted slightly, and his eyes flicked to her. He opened his mouth to say something, but before she could chicken out, she leaned forward and kissed him.
Haha! So... what do you think is going to happen? ;)
I didn't make up the stuff about Clint's enhancements; I did research! Apparently, in some versions of his reality, he's had modifications in the muscles around his eyes, etc. It wasn't that much of a stretch to think that he would have modified hands.
Also, I know some of you wanted more general painfulness happening, and I want you to know that I'm not ignoring you! But there is a reason that it's not there. Asa's a doctor, and a very good one. Her detachment is second nature to her, so from her point of view, there could be no real emotional impact from the damage that Liretto did to Clint. So that's why that section got skimmed a little.