Past the Mission - locked to nolongeracarny

[kick_ass_curls]

She couldn't help wondering how much more blood a living person could lose before they weren't so living anymore. She'd been though this before so many times she'd lost count. No, that was a lie she never forgot when someone died on her watch. She got on with her life and eventually they faded away. The job always came first. Always.

This was different. This was...him.

Natasha used every ounce of energy she had to get Barton out of the line of fire. Everything became such a clusterfuck so fast she hardly had time to think. No exit strategy. No back up. Clint may as well have been dead weight the way she had to carry him to the nearest shelter.

Natasha Romanoff stopped believing in God decades ago, but that didn't stop her from pulling Clint into the one place she knew wouldn't sell them out to get slaughtered. She looked up at the cross on the mission house door, pauses half a second before she kicked the door open and dragged them both inside.

It was a good thing she didn't care about God, because the next thought in her head would have pissed Him off. 

Fuck you, Budapest. Fuck you forever.

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[nolongeracarny]

Everyone was afraid of what was going to happen. Of what might happen to them. The fear radiated off of everyone in the room. Off of everyone outside of it.

"You'll what, Tasha?"

It's asked in a hoarse tone before he jumps slightly. That medical bag havin' broke into his thought patterns. Of what in the hell he'd do if... Except Natasha seemed to be wanting to keep him alive. Wanted to make him live through the pain. "...What?"

He would've asked what in the hell the good doc was doing except that he felt his eyes growing heavy. Whatever had been in that needle had been strong. Something to take away the pain... to keep him under... He wasn't sure. Or maybe it was to kill him.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

Natasha waited as the surgeon the old woman had brought to them worked. She didn't dare leave anyone alone with Clint she didn't trust with his life. Eventually the task was done and another dose of sedative kept Clint asleep. Tasha sat herself next to the cot, both of her guns at the ready in case anything happened.

But it was a long day, and eventually the exhaustion got the better of her. Tasha lost the battle to keep her eyes open.

And she hates herself for it.

[nolongeracarny]

Clint doesn't feel a thing as he's operated on. Then again he was starting to lose feeling to begin with. That hadn't been good but it hadn't mattered. So it's a good hour or two after he's been sedated that he wakes. And unfortunately wakes with a start.

It hurts like hell when he sits up like he's been shot or worse. The movement, unfortunately, drags a cry of pain out of him. Okay... moving... it hurt.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

That's all it takes to wake her up, too. Natasha sits bolt upright, both guns drawn until she realizes they're alone. "Clint?" She gets to her feet, holstering both weapons before she puts a hand on his chest.

Tasha looks over the bandages, trying not to wince at the fact Clint may have torn over some stitching. "Lay down. You're not supposed to move." She keeps her tone steady and even, trying to mask how completely terrified she is.

[nolongeracarny]

Her hand feels cool against his bare chest and he lays back down, eyes half closed as he watches her. "How long?" He wants to know how long he was out. Hell, he doesn't even realize that he's pretty much naked under the sheet covering him. That's the furthest thing from his mind.

"Tasha?" His voice is laced with pain and just... almost panic. Almost.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

She looks out a nearby window to see where the sun is. "Most of the night, part of today." Tasha looks around for the list of instructions the less than talkative doctor left with her. She can't find it.

"You need time to heal. There wasn't any major organ damage but you could still, um..." She tries to remember what she was told. Natasha's soon not looking at his face but her hand and where she's rested it on his chest. There was so much blood his clothes were ruined and she can't go back to get their things. That location isn't a secret anymore.

"You could aggravate the wounds if you move. Plus you're supposed to keep your heart rate down." The sound of his voice breaks her heart, and, as always, Natasha blames herself for this. She slides her hand up to the side of Clint's face, carefully avoiding anyplace that might be too tender to touch. "We're stuck here for a while, you and me."

[nolongeracarny]

That doesn't really sit all that well with him. "I'll heal once we get home." Though that look on her face, in her eyes... he knew otherwise. Eyes closing he leans his cheek into her hand a bit, body still protesting any real type of movement.

"Can't stay here forever." Then out of nowhere. "He's going to be so pissed."

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

"He's busy. We're not the only one he has to worry about." Tasha assumes Clint's worried about Coulson's reaction. "Besides, he doesn't get pissed. He gets that wrinkly crease in his eyebrows and that's it." Which means Phil's pissed, but whatever.

"I can't move you, and all the communication equipment was lost when we lost the safe house." This whole mess really is a clusterfuck. What Natasha doesn't want to admit is how afraid she is to leave him alone. "Just a few days." She promises as she looks him in the eyes. Natasha knows that's not true. Clint can't heal that fast. No one can but maybe it will calm him down.

She gently runs her thumb over his cheek, smiling slightly. "Are you that opposed to the idea of being stuck with me for that long?" Natasha's trying to break the tension.

[nolongeracarny]

"He worries about us more," he murmurs. Or at least Coulson had a bad habit of worrying about him. Then again the man had been his handler for so damn long. "You've never really seen him pissed off."

Couldn't move him... of course she could. Though he closes his eyes at those words. They'd lost everything... "My bow?" Because he doesn't remember it being gone. Then again there's quite a bit he doesn't remember. It's just not something he'd ever admit to.

"Of course not," he murmurs with a pained smile. "I'd never be opposed to being stuck with you."

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

"He's not supposed to." Natasha would give anything for a working phone or to not be hidden in a building. They're very much off the grid at the moment without meaning to be. "Maybe I haven't. I've been a good girl since you brought me in." It's true, Natasha is almost a yes woman, and it's something that doesn't sit too well with her at times.

Shouldn't move him would be a better assessment. She'd need help and Natasha doesn't know who she can trust. That surgeon had a gun on him the whole time. Well, except when he needed her to play nurse, which was often.

Natasha smiles, stepping aside to show him his gear. Her hand doesn't move, though. Everything he had on his person is there, perfectly intact. "They didn't destroy the base but they have it. I'm not that good to get in there." She admits guiltily. "They know my face, I'd be dead in a second if I tried."

"Careful. I'll start thinking you like me." Tasha realizes her fingertips are absently stroking his face. She considers stopping, but doing that solidifies that he's still here. Still alive. Natasha needs to be 100% sure of that right now.

[nolongeracarny]

"He's always done that," he murmurs. "At least around me." It's said with a groan as if he's running out of breath or something. He wasn't but he was still in pain. "Glad we took a chance on you," he says with a small smile. "Like you being around." Not that he'd normally admit that but between the pain and whatever the man had given him...

"That's good," he tells her quietly. Good that his stuff was still there. Especially considering where that bow had come from. To be honest he was wanting to go back to sleep. It wasn't advisable though. Leaning into her fingertips, he chuckles despite the pain.

"Maybe I do like you."

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

Tasha smiles, blushes even, at the compliments. In truth she wonders why Clint and Phil stood up for her when no one else would, even to this day. She doesn't know if she's worth it but she's going to do her damnedest to make sure both of them didn't make a mistake on her.

Natasha reaches her other hand up slowly, covering Clint's lips with her fingers. "Shhhh." She doesn't pull her fingers away, unable to stop herself from almost mindlessly tracing the outline of his lips with her fingertips. After a moment she realizes what she's doing. "You should sleep." Tasha pulls her hands away from him, folding them in front of her.

[nolongeracarny]

When those fingers press against his lips he shakes his head. Though that really wasn't the smartest of ideas. Moving around wasn't the best of ideas in any shape or form.

"Don't want to sleep," he murmurs. "Been asleep for too long." Not really. Sedated just not actually sleeping.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

Her eyes narrow when he protests. Tasha considers telling him she wants him to sleep so she can go get supplies. Food, more bandages and things but she worries he might freak out about it.

"If you don't sleep what will you do?" She smiles gently, looking around the room. It's essentially bare save a bible on the nightstand and a jug of water that isn't even cold anymore.

[nolongeracarny]

"I don't know..." It's true. He didn't know what he'd do if he didn't sleep. Only way he was sleeping, more than likely, was if he was sedated again. Something he wouldn't allow to happen.

"Grab me my bow, please."

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

Her first thought is protest, that he thinks he's getting out of that bed...cot...and going out there. "Clint?" Tasha asks cautiously. She does what he asks fetching the bow she made sure to keep an eye one. That weapon is like one of his limbs and she knows it.

"What are you going to do?" She asks as she hands them over.

[nolongeracarny]

He wasn't getting up out of the bed. All he wanted was his bow at the moment. Taking the quiver he sets it aside and then taking the bow, he smiles. "Thank you." His fingers run lightly over the bow before he lays back.

Grabbing the bow string he pulls it as taunt as he can which isn't much thanks to his injuries and he growls. It was going to piss him off.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

"Clint." Again she tries to get his attention with his name. Natasha watches him try and it breaks her heart when it doesn't work.

So much of who he is is wrapped up around that weapon, his job and he doesn't have that now. "Don't push yourself, please?" She moves closer, sliding her hand over the one he's holding the bow with. "You need time to heal." Natasha whispers as she considers if she should try and take the bow from him. "You can't force it."

[nolongeracarny]

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, "Stop telling me I need time to heal." She doesn't have that hold over him that his handler does. However, Coulson wasn't there. Nor did he have the man talking to him in his ear.

So he just tries again because he's determined to pull it as taunt as possible, As far as it'll go.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

Natasha considers snapping back at him but bites her tongue. She knows damn well she'd be just as stubborn as he's being. She doesn't have a hold over him. She doesn't want to control him she just wants him to be alright. Tasha has no idea how to make that happen.

She folds her arms and turns to walk away, unable to watch him struggle like that. It hurts, more than it should.

[nolongeracarny]

Unfortunately he keeps trying until his arm tires out and the pain gets the better of him. There's agitation in every fiber of his being even as he takes the bow and throws it across the room, not giving a damn where the thing landed.

To an extent not even caring if it broke.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

If Clint's hardware is anything like Natasha's it won't break from being thrown. She considers hiding out, leaving him brood but through it all she can't help remembering a time he didn't leave her when she was in his position. Hell, they weren't even partners then. She would have sooner killed him that look at him but...she didn't. Because Clint didn't kill her when he was ordered to.

Natasha picks his bow up and sets it on the bedside table. She pauses next to the cot, looking him over before she lays down next to him. It's not exactly roomy but she doesn't want him to freak out again. Maybe her being there will keep him calm. "What are you thinking?"

[nolongeracarny]

Perhaps it won't but it might be nicked a bit. Or it might not be hurt at all. There was really no telling where Clint's hardware was concerned. He's annoyed at how weak he feels. How... Then she's laying beside him despite how small the cot is.

"That I don't want to be laid up here. Annoyed that I can't even use my bow properly. There's only one good thing here." Her.

[kick-ass-curls.livejournal.com]

"I know." She slowly reaches her hand up to his wrist, subtly checking his pulse. The doctor told her not to let him get agitated or accelerate his heartrate. Tasha seems satisfied with the fact his frustration seems mostly mental.

"Oh?" She pulls her hand away and looks at him. "What's the one good thing?"

[nolongeracarny]

His pulse was racing a bit with his annoyance at the bow. The fact that they couldn't go anywhere. Or rather the fact that he was injured and couldn't do a damn thing for himself. Then her question comes and he gives a small smile.

"You."