Natasha passed those same twelve hours in oblivion. She woke once, confused and incoherent, unable to process the sounds and voices around her and feeling nothing but pain. She was given anesthetic on her way to surgery and everything was darkness again.

When she finally awoke again the first thing she noticed was the constant beeping noise of the heart monitor; secondly was the tube in her nose that was assisting her breathing; and third was the warm pressure in her right hand. She didn’t panic, this had not been the first time after all, but it had certainly been the worst. Her memory was fuzzy yet but she knew where she was, recognized the sounds of the hospital equipment; she could fill in the rest later.

Her eyes felt heavy, the lids weighed down, but she slowly cracked them open and peered out through her lashes. Clint sat in a chair beside her bed, slumped forward with his head resting on the mattress and her hand in his, and he appeared to be asleep. Natasha said nothing and did very little; she just gave his hand a firm squeeze.