Agent Alex

Chapter 3//In which we return to HQ

It takes me 2 hours to finish cleaning, stitching, bandaging, and getting as much blood off Natasha as I can. I sigh, looking down at her. I carefully pick her up, trying to avoid the bandages as much as possible. I carry her over to the bed, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. I look at her for a second, seeing how pale she still was. I sigh again, crawling in next to her and spooning her, trying to keep her warm and alive. I hear Natasha's breathing slowly even out, and feel her slowly start to warm up.
A few hours later, I feel Natasha stir next to me, but I don't move. "Get off me." I hear Natasha groan, and watch her try to get up. I carefully put my arm around her, pulling her back down to the bed.
"You need to stay still. I don't know if your stitches will hold. We don't want you bleeding all over the bed." I say quietly, and see Natasha clutch her head.
"Ugh." I blink at Natasha, carefully detangling myself from her. "Just get off me." Natasha says, and I carefully get out of the bed.
"I'll go call Fury, tell him what happened. I'll leave out the part where you almost died, though, if that would make you feel better." I say, and Natasha nods slowly.
    I grab my phone from where I had dropped it, typing in Fury's number. I tap my fingers on my arm as I wait, hearing the dial tone. It takes almost a full minute before Fury picks up the phone.
    "Who is this?" Fury says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
    "Fury, you have no idea what kind of shit's happened in the last few hours." I say, and hear Fury sigh.
    "Then you better start talking, Alex." Fury says, and I slowly explain what had happened after I hung up earlier, leaving out the part where Natasha almost died.
    "I think it would be best for us to come back. They obviously know our faces now, and I don't want to know what would happen if they saw us again." I say quietly, as Natasha had fallen back asleep.
    "Are you sure? I don't think Natasha would want to do that." I snort at Fury's words, and take a deep breath.
    "I don't give a damn, she's injured and needs proper medical attention. I can only do so much. We're all field surgeons out of necessity, but I don't want to think about what might happen if we don't get her the medicine and treatments she needs soon." I say, stealing a look at Natasha, who had a grimace of pain on her face. "Fury, I don't want to lose her. I can't lose her." I whisper, a tear sliding down my face. I quickly wipe the tear away, sniffling. Why am I going crazy? Natasha only likes me as a friend, nothing more.
    "Alright. Do you think she could handle the flight though?" I laugh quietly, amused.
    "If you know anything about Natasha, it is that she is one stubborn bitch." I say, and hear a laugh on the other end.
    "Alright. Tell Natasha that you are being pulled from the mission, and that you're heading back to HQ tomorrow." Fury tells me, then hangs up. I sigh for probably the fifth time in an hour, walking into the bathroom.
    I go to the sink, seeing dried up blood under my nails. I frown, grabbing my nail brush and scrubbing until I couldn't see anything under my nails, until I felt like my fingertips were so raw that they would start bleeding at any given moment.
    I hear a groan in the bedroom, and I quickly make my way in there, leaning over Natasha in seconds. "Hey." I say quietly, not moving.
"Ugh." Natasha moans, and I smile for a second before wiping it from my face.
"You're gonna want to hear this." I whisper, and Natasha turns her head towards me. "I talked to Fury, and he's decided to pull us out. He doesn't want his best agent getting hurt again." I stretch the truth a little, hoping Natasha wouldn't notice.
    "We're flying back in tomorrow." Natasha glares at me, and I try to not let it affect me. Natasha nods slowly after a minute, and apparently decides trying to get out of bed was a good idea. I watch Natasha swing her legs out of the bed, huffing.
    Do I interfere? No. I didn't have a death wish. Better to let Natasha realize that rest was what was best for her. Does she come to that conclusion? No.
    The next day, I carefully drive Natasha to where we'd be getting picked up, and sure enough, there was the helicopter. I hop out, grabbing both my bag and Natasha's. I go around to the passenger side, helping Natasha out. I let her lean on me, one of my arms around her waist to support her. For once she didn't protest, and I count myself lucky.
    The flight back was uneventful, except for when Natasha almost pulled one of her stitches. "Natasha, stop moving around. I don't want to have to give you new stitches while we're in the air." I say, and Natasha reluctantly obeys