Scars and Origins

Chapter 5: Relief

Chapter 5: Relief

Sleep washed over Clint once he had accepted Natasha was well taken care of. Luckily, their beds were just a curtain away from each other, but he had requested the nurses leave the curtain open for his own peace of mind. Clint only briefly woke when staff would enter the room every couple hours, checking their blood pressure and Natasha's IV. Natasha was enthralled in deep, all encompassing sleep all night thanks to the pain medication she was steadily receiving. It seemed like she was floating in nothingness, her senses dulled and inconsequential. 

She was pulled from her utopia with a call of her name and a light shake of her forearm. A man was sitting on a stool next to her, with dark hair and tanned skin. Something was pinned to his navy blue shirt, but Natasha's eyes wouldn't focus to read the letters.

"Miss Romanoff," he beckoned, "how are you feeling today?" She squinted and shielded her eyes from the overhead fluorescent lights. Sitting up on her elbows gingerly, she scooted up in the bed.

"I feel… kind of out of it," Natasha replied sincerely. The world around her felt unsteady and confusing. The man next to her chuckled lightly.

"That is to be expected with Morphine, it's a very common side effect," he stated, reading her last few sets of vitals on the clipboard in his hand. "My name is Dr. Carrion, and I'll be monitoring your progress. Are you feeling any pain right now?"

She cocked her head, then gently moved her shoulders to see if pain would come, but it never did. Natasha laid back down and began, "No. I feel fine. Where's Clint?" Concern hit her like a wave as she realized she couldn't remember where Barton had ended up after reaching headquarters.

The doctor gently kicked backward and allowed his chair to roll toward the end of Romanoff's bed. Clint was asleep on his left side, facing her. Strings of bruises had slightly yellowed through the night along his forehead and arms. He was still wearing his gear, minus the deadly weapons. His bow, gun, and quiver were perched on the loveseat behind Dr. Carrion. Curiously, she could see a burgundy cloth slightly poking out of his loose fist.

"He's doing just fine, most of his injuries were minimal. Our only concern is to replace his electrolytes, as they were off balance when you two came in. A few days of rest, extra Gatorade, and some wound care is all he'll need," the doctor reassured. He stood but avoided cutting off her line of sight, as she was fixated on her partner. "Do you have any questions for me, Ms. Romanoff? I will be back in an hour or so to do a full exam, we're just waiting on your IV to finish up so we can remove it."

Natasha began to sit up and paused once she swung her legs over the side of the bed. A thick ankle brace was now concealing her right foot and she realized she probably shouldn't stand on it. "Can someone help me to the bathroom please," she requested, and the doctor waved a nurse over.

Her nurse, Alexandra, proceeded to catch her up on the extent of her injuries, but Natasha wasn't really listening. All she could focus on was keeping her balance, and getting back to Clint. Mastering her crutches proved to be a challenge since she was having a hard time comprehending any multi-step task.

Once she had hobbled back to the space between the two hospital beds, Natasha politely asked Alexandra to slide a chair over so she could sit next to Clint. They quietly did so to avoid waking him. As soon as Natasha was seated and her IV bag was rolled up next to her, the nurse thought it best to slip out of the room. Being eye level with Barton sparked the warmth and comfort that Natasha always felt around him. The thought of the outside world and its problems grew smaller in Romanoff's eyes as she watched Barton's chest rise and fall. She needed to talk to him, to understand what he was thinking.

Natasha reached out a shaky hand, and unfurled the burgundy cloth she caught sight of earlier in Clint's grasp. It was the scarf she had found in the cabin. Touched and emotional, Natasha hung the scarf around her neck, and squeezed Clint's palm, ever-so-lightly. Fingers brushed against his calloused hands admiringly.

"Tash… you're awake," Clint cooed, as Natasha scanned her eyes up to meet his. He clasped her unsteady hand in between his. Silently, they gazed at each other, taking in the fervor passing between them. Tears fell from Natasha; Clint stood and pulled her up into his arms, supporting her weight. Sobs escaped her as suppressed emotions bubbled to the surface. Stroking her hair, he sat on the bed as she clung to him like a lottery winner seizing their ticket.

"I've got you, it's alright now. You're safe," Clint whispered into her ear between a couple tears of his own. He drew her onto the bed with him, making sure to be gentle with her ankle and back. 

Natasha settled into the warm embrace and wept, "I'm so glad you're okay. Everything feels fuzzy and unfamiliar, except you. I have no idea what day it is." She slowed her speech and further confided, "I don't even know what I'm feeling, I just..." Her sentence trailed off as she tilted her head back up toward Clint. She could feel his hands tracing along the backs of her arms. For a better angle, Natasha leaned up on her elbow and hovered mere inches above Clint's face.

"Are you in pain," Barton quizzed, deadly serious with a soft undertone. She shook her head in response.

"No pain, I'm really drugged up right now," Natasha smirked briefly. Clint reached up and caressed her cheek while he brushed a strand of hair from her face. Placing her own hand over top of his, she leaned forward and kissed him. It was gentle at first, slightly hesitative, but deepened as Clint pulled her closer. They grew comfortable as their make out session extended from seconds to minutes. Sensual and delicate, they relished in the tenderness of each other. Clint pulled back to swipe away any remaining tears from her face. Happiness and relief filled them both up as they took in the gravity of their kiss.

"Natasha," he started, looking deep into her eyes, "I will always protect you." She kissed him on the cheek and laid on his chest again, just like in the cabin. With a big smile, Natasha hummed, "I know." 

For the next 20 minutes, Clint told her about the helicopter ride back and how they ended up in the infirmary. Short quips about how beautiful he thought she was when they first met snuck their way in. Natasha sat idly with her eyes closed, and enjoyed the sound of the words echoing through his body. The drugs sent another wave of tiredness through her, and Clint skimming her side with his fingertips relaxed her even more. Barton knew she was asleep when the digits that had been fondling his abs stilled. 

Clint noted that it was 0630, and he had his meeting at 0900. Plenty of time to get his partner settled before he had to rehash everything to a bunch of suits, many of whom had never been on a mission before. For now though, he would savor the moment and wait to speak to Natasha's doctor. He flipped on the TV perched in the corner of the room, finding an old 1950's movie to mindlessly watch. As long as Natasha was okay, he was okay, too.