Whumptober 2023 ~ Marvel Edition

'Not Much Longer...' - Natasha

Day 30:

"It's okay to just say 'I'm not okay'."
Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | "Not much longer...."

~~~

"I think you're getting a little rusty there, Barton," Natasha said, smiling through a wince as she gently clutched her side and the two of them jogged down the assumed empty halls of the building.

"Me?" Clint asked, with half-fake offense. He gestured to her side. "Look who's talking. You're the one who just got shot in the side."

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully, but by the end of it, her face had contorted into one of fatigue and pain.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Clint asked her. He knew, from what he'd seen anyway, that the bullet hadn't hit her in an area that would be overly concerning, and he also knew that Natasha had acquired enough injuries in her time to know when it was too much for her to handle herself, but he couldn't help but be concerned. He was her best friend; it was his job to be concerned. But also, at the same time, to mock her for it if she truly was okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Nat responded, trying to convince herself of that fact more than she was Clint. "Let's just hurry up and get to the jet before someone else catches up to us."

Mere seconds after the words left her mouth, three guards rounded the corner about thirty feet ahead of them, and Natasha inwardly cursed. The pain by itself wasn't all that bad, and she felt fairly confident that she could have defended herself as is, but the fatigue that was rapidly plaguing her body sure as hell wasn't going to allow that kind of physical exertion.

Seemingly reading her mind, Clint shouted, "Go!" as he gestured to the room adjacent to them. With a single nod, Natasha dove into the room and sat her back up against the wall next to the door, in order to keep as much of herself out of the line of fire as possible. Normally she might have felt bad leaving Clint on his own, but it was only three guys; if anything, the other guards were going to need to bring a couple more people for it to be a fair fight.

The sounds of fighting were brief, and given just how brief they were, Natasha knew that Clint had won. With a small, prideful smirk, Natasha adjusted herself to be able to push herself up, but found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. The more she exerted herself, the dizzier and more fatigued she became, until finally, she gave up and let her head rest back against the wall.

"Clint," she called out to her partner with less volume behind her voice than she'd intended and her eyes squinted so much that they were practically closed. In the brief next moment of silence, Nat wondered if she'd spoken loud enough for Clint to have heard her, but when she finally heard movement in the door frame next to her, she didn't have to look up to know that he'd arrived.

"Nat," he said, his voice full of worry as he knelt down in front of her. "Hey, hey, hey- wake up; we've gotta go, okay?"

What? She wasn't sleeping. She was barely even closing her eyes. Maybe it looked that way on the outside, and she sure felt like it on the inside, but she was doing her best to stay awake. Either way, Natasha didn't have the strength to care to protest. She knew that they needed to leave as quickly as possible, so despite her body's painful protests, she willed herself to stay awake, though she didn't know how long that would last for.

"Do you think you can stand?" Clint asked.

Natasha honestly didn't know, but she figured that she had a better chance at it with his help, so she opted to try again. Instead of responding, she held her hands out for Clint to take. Seeing this gesture, Clint grabbed a hold of her hands and helped lift Natasha to her feet. She had barely even straightened her knees for a millisecond when she felt her weight collapse underneath her. Quick to act, Clint reached out and caught her, then tried to steady her in his arms.

Their window of opportunity to leave was swiftly closing, and Clint knew that as much as he wanted to give Natasha the time to recover, they didn't have that luxury. Without having much time to think of an alternative plan, Clint quickly slipped one arm behind her back, then let her weight fall back until he was able to slip his other arm underneath her knees and lift her up into the air.

Clint reentered the hall with Natasha in hand, her head lolling back against Clint's chest as he made his way towards the exit. Clint just hoped to God that no one else showed up in the two or three hundred feet left until they reached the door to the quinjet. Glancing down at Natasha, he noticed that her eyes were fluttering in a fight to stay open and awake. She was fading fast, and she needed help as soon as possible.

"Come on, stay awake for me, Nat; you can do it," Clint encouraged her with a slight nudge of the shoulder that had her head resting against it. "Not much longer..."

As the distance between him and the door closed, his nerves shot up higher and higher in anticipation of someone else interrupting them, but much to his relief, no one came. Using his elbow, Clint pushed the bar on the door in and then used his shoulder blade to push the door the rest of the way open.

Upon making contact with the fresh air, Clint's whole system flooded with relief and he carried Natasha onto the quinjet. The moment they were on board, he placed her down gently on one of the benches and set the autopilot to take them the hell out of there. Once everything was set into place, Clint immediately returned to Natasha's side and knelt down in front of her.

"Hey," he said softly, and with a gentle smile. "How're you holding up?"

Natasha only hummed in response, but that was enough for Clint. Even if it was just the humming, it was an indicator that she was still with him.

"It's alright," he reassured her, taking the hand that wasn't clutching her side in his own. "We're not too far out from one of SHIELD's bases. You just hang tight. And stay with me, okay?"