Natasha winced when Clint moved her, the press of his hand against her wound making her whimper. She tried to focus on him, on his face, his touch, his voice, but it was a chore even keeping her eyes open... hell, it was a feat just trying to breathe. She was no doctor but she suspected one of her lungs had been pierced. Coughing up blood certainly wasn’t a good sign.

Groping weakly at Clint’s arm when he knocked Stevenson out, she shook her head minutely, the movement barely perceptible.

“Don’t... kill him,” she choked out, wheezing. Her entire chest ached, inside and out. “If anyone does... should be... me.” She tried to smile, but another wave of pain washed over her and she grimaced instead, closing her eyes tightly.