Untangling a Memory

Was there anything else?

Shuri and the doctors spent the almost the whole day with Natasha. Now that she was awake, they could update her test results and create a treatment plan. The vision tests showed there was minor damage as a result of the blow to her orbital bone, but that it should resolve on it's own with rest and low light. Her other test results were positive, though they did struggle to get honest pain levels from Natasha. She wasn't the most compliant patient and it wasn't until Shuri asked the doctors to leave that she was able to push Natasha a bit more on the subject.

Natasha had grown up ignoring pain and treating her injuries herself. If she had admitted her injuries or sought treatment from someone in the Red Room, she risked being "removed from the program" or, maybe worse to Natasha, being viewed as weak. She taught her body that pain was survivable, just as the Red Room was, and it was necessary. So, even now, admitting she was in pain felt like she was complaining, like she couldn't take care of herself.

But Natasha liked Shuri and appreciated that she hadn't just left her in the care of doctors she didn't know. Shuri was by no means a medical professional, but she was, for all intents and purposes, a genius. She learned what she needed to when she needed to and the technology she developed was unmatched.

In Natasha's case, Shuri had been working while Natasha was under sedation to develop a way to repair her achilles that would weave vibranium into the tendon. It would be flexible, shock absorbent, and, once healed, provide additional strength that a blown achilles might never normally recover. Natasha was blown away by this gesture, creating a solution especially for her, knowing how important it would be to her to be able to return to her full capacity in the field. So, when Shuri pushed her on admitting her pain, she finally acquiesced.

Natasha also begrudgingly agreed to follow a rest and recuperation plan that Shuri had laid out for her. Shuri had told Natasha that she would be able to get back to work significantly faster and in much better condition if she would actually rest her body rather than trying to push herself now. With the kinds of injuries she had incurred this time, if she were to start walking around, working out, or attempting to go back into the field too soon, she could cause permanent damage that would limit her performance going forward. Natasha absolutely hated the idea of sitting around all day and did everything to talk her way around it, but ultimately agreed. Returning to work was most important, and if when she went back she couldn't perform as well as she had before, she would feel deflated.

Natasha's achilles surgery had been scheduled for the following day, so she decided to stay in the make-shift hospital room set up in Shuri's lab for another night. Natasha was just about to tell Shuri that Bucky could come down to visit once she'd had a chance to call Steve, when she remembered something.

"Hey Shuri, do you still have the clothes that I came in with?"

Shuri pulled out a bin from beneath the hospital bed and handed it to Natasha.

"There isn't much left that's wearable. The sweatshirt was already cut off when you arrived, one leg of your leggings as well. Given your injuries, we decided to cut off your shirt and the leggings to fully be able to treat you."

Natasha pulled out the pieces of Steve's sweatshirt. "Steve's going to kill me..." She looked concerned as she felt through the material.

"Well, he did elbow you in the face, so I'd say you are square." Shuri smirked at Natasha.

Natasha was moving her hands a bit more franticly now, handling each piece of cloth until she got to the waistband of her leggings. Then her face turned white, her expression was a mix of alarm and sadness.

She spoke quietly, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Did you um..." Natasha swallowed hard as she struggled to find the words. She was trying desperately to keep tears out of her eyes. "Was there anything else?" Her words now were barely a whisper.