Okay, after all the suffering we needed a little bit of fluff - just to give them a break from the angst of previous chapters. Lots of feelings involved here and quite draining for me to write, I must have redrafted this five or six times so if there are mistakes I apologise unreservedly.
Sandy-wmd: I'm not sure whether the staff get hazard pay but I'm pretty sure that they should, treating one of these two would be difficult enough. Points to Carter for figuring out how to do it with minimal destruction to her infirmary...
As always, I'd love to know what you think.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, aware that time was passing her by but unable to make any sense of it, Natasha focussed all the energy she could muster on her recovery. Though her eyelids were sometimes just too heavy to lift, she grew accustomed to the sounds and smells of the medical wing. Once or twice she thought she heard Clint's voice but she couldn't find her voice to reply when he spoke to her or the strength to open her eyes . When she did manage to open her eyelids briefly, he was almost always asleep. She knew that he was okay, trusted that Carter was looking after him, and that was the one and only reason that she allowed herself the rest that her body so badly needed.
When she finally opened her eyes again, she found that it was day, bright sunlight streaming in through the window to pool on her bed. After the dark places in which she had spent the months since her captivity, the warmth was welcome, bringing back memories of the days spent in the Iowa sunshine when Clint had taken her out to his cabin. Clint. Turning her head to look for him, she found his bed empty, freshly made, corners perfectly folded and pillows plumped. Panic flared within her, her brain searching desperately for some indication that her conversation with the doctor had been real and not merely a drug induced hallucination or figment of her scattered mind.
Adrenaline pumping, she forced herself upright, pausing on the edge of the mattress to catch her breath and give the room a chance to stop spinning around her. She clutched her side with one hand, trying to ease the sudden pain that bloomed there and finding the bulk of a surgical dressing beneath her hospital gown. The needle in the back of her hand was attached to a bag of something that hung from a rail above her bed, much as she would have liked to remove it from her vein, she knew that whatever it was her body probably needed it. With shaking fingers she removed the blood pressure monitor from her finger and disconnected the electrodes that monitored her heart rate. Machines shrieked with high-pitched alarms as their readings disappeared.
Taking a moment to gather her strength, she slipped off the edge of the bed and let her legs absorb her own body weight, thankful that her knees didn't give way beneath her. It was the work of a moment to silence the alarms, a sharp yank on the power cord working more quickly than figuring out the controls. While she waited for her heart rate to return to something approaching normal, she gripped the metal bed frame hard enough to bruise her palms. She was reaching up to unhook the bag of fluids from the rail, intending to carry it until she found a walker pole that she could hang it from or a member of staff, whichever she encountered first, when the door behind her opened and she became aware of another presence in the room.
"Going somewhere?"
Her head turned so quickly that she momentarily lost her balance, hands shooting out to grab the bed until her legs would take her weight again. Clint stood just inside the doorway, barefoot and casually dressed in track pants and a black wife beater. He had a pair of crutches balanced beneath his arms and an expression of slight amusement on his face. It felt like forever since she had last laid eyes on him and she drank in the sight of him unashamedly. Without stopping to consider whether it was a smart move or not, she headed toward him. Her legs promptly gave way beneath her. His quick movement across the space between them was the only thing that stopped her from hitting the floor, one arm wrapping around her waist and absorbing her weight by pulling her against him until she regained her balance.
"How are you feeling?" she asked him, breathless again. The pain in her side throbbed in time with her heartbeat and she started to appreciate that it probably would have been better to take it more slowly after who knew how many days flat on her back in bed.
"Really, that's what you're going with?" he asked, throwing aside one of his crutches and walking slowly back to the bed with her held tightly to his side. His body heat seeped into her, easing the aches that shimmered in her muscles, giving her the strength to stay on her feet long enough to cooperate as he led her back where she needed to go.
"Carter said that you needed surgery on your leg..."
"I'm healing fine," he told her, "the crutches are just a precaution, Doc would have discharged me a couple of days ago if she thought for a second that I'd leave. She's ... well I can see why you like her, she's our kind of medic, knows when to pick her battles."
Searching his face, she saw concern and determination but found no hint that he was hiding anything. As his gaze met her own she realised that she knew the man before her down to his bones and blood, that they could touch the very foundations of one another when they did nothing more than stand in the same place. He helped her up onto the mattress and helped her to lie down, staying close while the world wavered around her once more. Perching on the edge of her bed with only the slightest sign of discomfort when he settled at her side. His palm found hers and the weight and warmth of his touch soothed her, the connection between them easing her in a way that all of the drugs in the infirmary could not. "How are you?"
"Sore," she admitted, "I guess its been a day or so since my conversation with the doctor?"
"Two," he replied automatically. "Gave us all a scare Nat, I was there when your heart stopped during surgery, you'd lost over half of your blood volume... thought you were going to up and die on me, scariest moment of my life."
She hadn't realised that he'd been present during her surgery, that he'd heard the monitors announce that her heart had stopped. She saw the haunted look in his eyes and realised that she couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to see her on the table during that kind of emergency. She couldn't even get close to thinking about him in that position, her brain wouldn't even let her go there in the hypothetical.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, looking up at him, determined to get the words out before she lost her nerve. "I'm sorry that you saw that and for everything else that I put you through during the last three months. I'm sorry that you had to save me, that I invaded your home and your bed, that you had to see and hear all that you did. You put your life on hold, put me first every step of the way. You gave me Brady, helped me to finish it because you knew that it was what I needed. You've always done right by me, never stopped once to count the cost of what you were giving me, there's no way that I can ever repay you for what you've done but ..."
It was probably the longest speech she had ever made in one of the quiet moments that they so often shared. She saw the momentary flash of surprise, caught a hint of something deeper that flickered through his eyes and was promptly shut away. His finger landed over her lips, cutting off her words. His eyes burned into her own. "No apologies Nat," he told her, "I gave what I gave without reservation and without regret and if I had to I'd do it all over again, every minute of it."
Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes as she absorbed the full meaning of his words. In those moments when she had been separated from him in the compound, moments when she had believed however briefly that he was dead, she had been shattered apart and remade in an instant but she had been incomplete. Hearing that whistle in the dark, she had found the strength that she needed to fight on, knowing that he was still alive had given her the strength that all of her anger could not. Their lives had always been connected by duty and friendship but after all they had been through they were now so entwined with one another that Natasha realised she no longer knew where she ended and he began. It perturbed her only slightly to realise that she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Clint," she whispered, struggling, drowning. Feeling like she'd taken a blow to the chest, she let out a shaky breath. Sometimes she realised, in spite of the sense of suffocation and the terror that they induced, words had to be said aloud if they were to count for anything. "I don't believe in fairy tales, not the good kind anyway, but I do believe that this thing we have, whatever it is or may be, is a once in a lifetime kind of deal." She paused, exhaled and forced the rest of it out before she couldn't. "I love you Clint. You're my partner and my best friend and my only solace and I'd give my life in a heartbeat to keep you safe, I just wanted you to know that."
She dropped her head, another tear rolling down her face to drip onto the bedding, terrified of what she'd said and how he would react, waiting for a response. All that she could do was continue to breathe and at that moment even that was easier said than done when her lungs seemed to be filling up with concrete as the seconds dragged on in silence.
Just when she thought that she couldn't stand it any longer, when she was sure that she was going to have to apologise and find some way to take back the words, he responded. With a gentle nudge he moved her across the mattress to make room for himself at her side, using his hands to support his injured leg as he lifted it. Settling beside her, he stretched out an arm above her head and when she raised off the pillow he slipped it beneath her so that his upper arm and shoulder became her pillow. As he rolled onto his side, she turned her face towards his and felt the tension ease out of his muscles. Letting go of the breath that she hadn't realised she was holding, she breathed him in, the scent of him taking her back to all the nights they had spent side by side, close enough to share every breath.
"Never thought I'd hear you say that out loud," he admitted, gathering her to his chest and holding her gently, breath skating across her skin with every word and breath, "but I know exactly what you mean."