Barton woke suddenly, all of his defences coming online as adrenaline flooded his system. Natasha tossed in her sleep, her eyes rolling beneath her eyelids and she flailed beneath the covers. Without thinking, he rolled over, moving to stop her from injuring herself further he grasped her wrists gently and pinned them loosely to the mattress. It was a move they'd done for one another a hundred times, maybe a thousand, but it was exactly the wrong thing to do given her current state of mind. Predictably, she reacted with panic and confusion, self-defence training rushing to the surface as she lurched to one side, lashing out with a well placed blow to his face, her body twisting from his grip and moving over his until she pinned his arms beneath her knees and her forearm was across his throat.

He could have fought her, was fairly sure that he was strong enough to throw her off him but any response now would only incite violence in her. If she considered herself under threat, she would fight him to the death and he wanted to defuse the situation without further violence if possible.

"Nat," he ground out, knowing that he only had a limited time to get through to her before she cut off his oxygen supply and he passed out. He had trained with her often enough so he knew just how lethal she could be when provoked. "Tasha... it's me, Barton."

Her eyes were open but there was no recognition in her face, no sense that she knew where she was or who she had trapped beneath her in the dark. Instead, something primitive and ferocious burned behind her eyes.

"Tasha..." he tried again, vision fading as his lungs screamed for oxygen. He saw a flicker of hesitation and capitalised on it. He moved quickly, rolling and pinning her body beneath his own, taking care not to bring his lower body into contact with hers in case he incited further panic. She struggled violently, forcing him to use his superior strength to prevent her from injuring him or further injuring herself.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she stilled, her chest heaving. With wild eyes she stared up at him, panic overriding her sense of self-awareness and then slowly he saw something shift in her features. There was a long pause and then an emotion that he didn't recognise flickered across her face. Her body shifted beneath his. "Clint?" she whimpered, fear lacing her voice. He reached out one hand to switch on the bedside lamp. Her eyes widened as she took in his features. "Oh God, what did I do to you?"

Reassuring her with calm words, Barton maintained eye contact and attempted to calm her. He released his grip on her and eased back onto his knees, raking hands through his hair. Natasha followed him, pulling her knees up on either side of his body on account of his proximity. With effort he hid his reaction when he noticed the bruising on her thighs, hand shaped and livid. It was neither the time or place for his anger. With shaking fingers she reached out and traced across his nose and cheekbone, he was surprised by the gentleness of her touch but not by the pain that it caused. "You got me a good one," he exclaimed, wiping away the blood that trickled from his nose.

"I'm sorry," she exclaimed reaching for the towel that he had wrapped her in when he brought her from the shower. She pressed the cool, still damp, fabric to his face to stem the bleeding and reduce any swelling that might accompany it. Although he knew that it would be more efficient for him to treat the injury himself, he surrendered to her ministrations and let her fuss over him a little because he knew that she needed to be a caregiver in this moment and not to think of what had caused her to lash out.

"I'm okay," he reassured her, silently assessing the ache that seemed to radiate from his nose to his left cheekbone and thud in time with his pulse. There would be some bruising but he didn't think that anything was broken. "How about you, do you want to talk about it?"

Natasha's hand stilled in its movement, resting momentarily against his cheek as she met his gaze directly, weighing his words. There was a moment of silence, pulsing with an intensity that he couldn't explain, and then she shook her head. "Not now," she replied. "Right now all I really want to do is try to get some sleep. "

He accepted her decision, understood it and made the decision not to push. She would talk when she was ready and he would be there when the time came. She waited until he had stretched out beside her on the mattress and then dimmed the light. The fact that she didn't extinguish it spoke volumes.