"You can go and have a shower or whatever," Claire said, thoroughly washing her hands in the kitchen sink. Natasha lent against the bench and watched as Matt's blood ran from Claire's hands down the sink, diluted by tap water and soap. "I'll wait with him."
"Yeah," Natasha said. She wasn't tired, but a shower and a change of clothes probably wasn't a bad idea, especially since she was still in her Widow suit. Matt lay sleeping on the couch. Claire had patched him up, and Natasha had assisted where she could. Pulling the bullet from his shoulder had been the worst part. Claire had been excellent, so calm and collected as she stitched and bandaged Matt up. The gunshot had cracked Matt's collar bone, but his suit appeared to have acted almost as a bullet proof vest, diluting the force of the shot, and saving Matt from a much more serious injury. Natasha made a mental note to ask Matt about the suit, as it was something the Avengers would likely be very interested in. Apart from gun wound, Matt had concussion, a cracked rib, and would have some very bright bruising on his shin and arm where he'd been kicked. "Thanks, I won't be long."
"Take your time," Claire said, "I don't think I'll be getting any more sleep tonight."
"No," Natasha said and stretched. "But I still won't be long."
Claire dried her hands. "Up to you."
Natasha nodded and walked to Matt's bathroom. She shut the door and stripped off, and then turned on the shower and waited for it to warm up. As the shower began to steam, Natasha climbed in. She sighed in relief as the hot water washed over her body, and felt as her muscles relaxed. Maybe she was tired after all.
Twenty minutes later, with wet hair and dressed in her compression pants, sport socks, and one of Matt's hoodies, Natasha came back into the living room. Claire sat on one of the armchairs watching Matt sleep. Natasha sat down in the other.
"How many times have you done this before?" Natasha asked.
Claire shrugged. While Claire had been operating on Matt, they hadn't really spoken. Words had been kept to a minimum and to the strictly necessary. "More times than I'd really have liked to."
"Well, thank-you," Natasha said, pulling her legs up to her chest. "We need more people like you."
"If you and Matt are teaming up, does that make him an Avenger?" Claire asked.
"Ha," Natasha said, "I don't think he'd like that idea." When Claire had arrived, Natasha had decided that if Matt trusted this lady with his identity, she might as well explain to Claire who she was, and the censored reason as to why Matt was hurt this time.
"I don't know," Claire said, "It might be just what he needs. He shouldn't be doing this alone. Every time I get a call - I'm terrified it's going to be someone saying they don't need my med kit, they need a body bag. But maybe, with the Avengers," Claire shrugged. "It's not my business. I just stitch him up." Claire stood up. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Call me if he gets worse."
"Yeah, of course," Natasha said.
"Give him these for the pain," Claire said, taking a box of medication out of her bag, "But only have for the next 48 hours, two at a time, minimum four hours apart, no more than six a day. After that, it's normal painkillers or nothing."
"Ok," Natasha said, not sure if she should stand up or just stay seated. "Has he had any yet?"
"No," Claire said, "But he can next time he wakes up."
"Ok," Natasha said again.
"If he was anyone else, I'd say he needs oxygen and morphine and proper medical care, but hell. He meditates or some such crap. I don't know. I guess I'm just glad he's not dead yet."
"Yeah," Natasha said, "Same here."
"And Natasha," Claire said, collecting her things, "You better call Foggy. He needs to know. Matt's in too bad a shape to let this slide."
"Ok, yeah."
"Ok. Well, nice meeting you."
"You too. Thanks a lot, Claire."
"Yeah, well, you know. Bye."
"Bye." Natasha watched as Claire left Matt's apartment, then turned her attention back to Matt lying in front of her. Natasha got up and got a drink of water, before returning to the armchair. She sighed, picked up Matt's phone, and found Foggy in the contacts list. His phone rang, and rang, and rang, and,
"Matt, I know you can't see, but it's like three thirty in the morning," Foggy croaked, "And it's Saturday, unless you're like,"
"Foggy, it's Natasha," Natasha said, cutting Foggy off. "Matt's been shot. We're at his place, and Claire's just left, but Matt's - not so great."
There was silence.
"Foggy?"
A long, low sigh followed. "Yeah, alright," Foggy said, "D'you need me to come now?"
"No, I…" Natasha wasn't sure what she wanted to say. She wasn't used to being in the position where so many people cared.
"Well you just told me Matt's been shot, so I sure as hell aren't going back to sleep."
Foggy sounded cross. Natasha felt tears welling in her eyes. She wasn't just tired, she was exhausted. "Maybe?" she said.
Foggy groaned. "What the hell were you and Matt doing?"
"I'll explain when you get here," Natasha said.
"Yeah, well you've got a heck of a lot of explaining to do," Foggy said, "You got Matt shot. I can't believe this. Can you put him on?"
"He's asleep."
"Fine. Whatever. I'm - I'm sitting up wide awake at three thirty on a Saturday morning. You owe me a sleep-in, Natasha."
"Thank-you," Natasha said, and hung up. She put Matt's phone down on the table, and pulled her legs up to her chest again. Natasha rested her head on her knees and looked at Matt. "What went wrong?" she asked Matt's sleeping body. "You had that. Did you get your answer? Shit, Matt, what went wrong?"