Her Hidden Past

- Chapter Nine -

"Maria, could you bring some gauze and antiseptic," Clint called quietly. "And if one of you could clean up the broken glass."

Maria slowly pushed the door open, pausing in shock. Natasha, the normally reserved young agent, was shaking silently in Clint's arms.

"Here," Maria stacked the gauze and antiseptic next to him.

Steve carefully picked all the glass up from the floor, trying to ignore the pool of blood beside Clint before quickly retreating from the room.

"Do you need some help?" Maria offered.

"I've got her, if you could take those away for now," He gestured to Natasha's discarded knives.

"Where do you want them?" Maria asked softly, cleaning the bloody knife on a spare towel.

"My go bag, please," Clint replied. "Then check on Steve, he looked shaken. I've got Natasha, I'll call you if I need a hand."

Maria nodded, retreating with the weapons and pulling the bathroom door ajar behind her.

"Tasha, sweetheart," He whispered, tightening his arms around her gently. He let go after a moment. It would be an awkward angle to clean the wound with the way she had curled into him, but he wasn't going to ask her to move. "It's going to sting," He warned softly as he poured antiseptic onto the gauze before removing the now bloody towel. As he cleaned the blood away, the four deep cuts wrapped around her hip became visible. The bleeding had slowed significantly so he could see they would need stitching.

"Maria?" He called.

"Clint?" Maria asked from near the bathroom door a minute later.

"Can you lay some towels on the bed," He called softly. "And get the suture kit ready."

"Done," Maria called back a few moments later. "Do you need anything else?"

"No. Thank you," Clint called back. "Tasha, do you still have any knives on you?" Her reaction was enough to confirm his suspicions. "Give it to me, Natasha." He demanded gently. She struggled trying to pull away from him. "Don't you trust me Tasha?" She reluctantly pressed the knife into his hand. "Thank you sweetheart," He whispered, slipping the knife away into his back pocket and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He pulled the blanket closer around Natasha before carefully lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Laying her down he readied the suture kit and more gauze and antiseptic. Quickly cleaning the wounds again he carefully began the long task of stitching the wounds closed.

"Tasha, do you want to tell me why?" He asked putting the final stitches into the last of the long cuts.

"No," She finally answered, head buried in the pillow.

"I'm here when you change your mind," He cleaned the fresh blood off the neat rows of stitches. "I need you to sit up so I can bandage over the stitches," Clint kept his voice soft.

"I'm sorry," She whispered as she moved gingerly. "Clint, I'm so sorry."

"I know, sweetheart," He brushed the hair out of her face. Sighing as she refused to meet his eyes. "Tasha, look at me."

Her eyes filled with tears, immediately spilling over as she read the fear and concern in his eyes where she had expected to find condemnation. "You should hate me right now."

"I'll never hate you," Clint shook his head vehemently. "Never." He helped her stand before placing gauze over the stitches "Go clean up and change," Clint told her. "I'll be right out here if you need anything."

Natasha nodded, taking her go bag into the bathroom and cleaning up the blood streaked across her stomach. She washed her face trying to hide the tear tracks, but the tears kept falling. She cleaned up her blood off the tiles, scrubbing until it was all gone, unable to stand the sight of it.