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Part 4

Natasha opens her eyes slowly.

Wherever she is, it smells of disinfectant. Sterile. There's a faint beeping of a machine which gives Natasha the sneaking suspicion that she's in a hospital. Her entire body aches and to put it bluntly, she feels like shit. Her eyelids feel heavy but she refuses to close them now she's awake. Her lungs feel wheezy and bruised, so she keeps to shallow breaths. Not to mention the fact that her head feels like it's being slowly squeezed in a vice.

Trying to remember how she got here, she winces as she moves and feels an IV drip in the crook of her elbow, keeping her hydrated. She thinks she remembers finishing the mission, infiltrating and shutting down a lab doing questionable and illegal experiments, then a burning sensation in her lungs and Steve's panicked voice over the comms, but not much else.

The room is dimly lit with a lamp so thankfully the light isn't too dazzling but it's more than bright enough for her to see the rest of her surroundings. There's a clock to her left and she sees it's early morning. Her gaze is drawn to something at the foot of the bed, sat on a table.

A giant, fuzzy black bear with small, beady eyes, surrounded by an abundance of flower bouquets and clutching a squishy heart shaped pink pillow emblazoned with the words "Get Well Soon".

She's never seen such a thing in her life. Nor does she expect to see it at the foot of her bed.

Looking around the room, she hopes to see some sort of explanation for the bear. She doesn't find one, but what she does see is Steve, head propped up on one fist and looking very uncomfortable as he sleeps in a chair that looks too small for him, a dusting of stubble on his jaw and his hair dishevelled. She feels infinitely better just seeing him.

Natasha thinks if anyone else had been here instead of Steve, she'd be mad. She hates anyone thinking of her as less than capable and waking up in a hospital bed is the last thing she wants to do after a mission. She has to be strong, she has to be unbreakable, and she'll never admit it but she doesn't want people to see her in a different light if she is anything less than polished perfection. She's always prided herself on being the best, on getting in, getting the mission done and getting out with practised efficiency. But this is Steve, he never thinks less of anyone for getting hurt and his presence has this dreadful habit of putting her at ease. She knows he won't look at her differently. He never has.

Clearing her throat, she tries to say his name but it just comes out as a croaky jumble and makes her cough. The sound jolts Steve awake and it's almost comical the way he looks around, startled and wide eyed. He sees that she's awake and he's on his feet in a second. He returns to her side a moment later holding a cup of water, and his touch is gentle but warm as he pushes hair back from her face and holds the cup to her dry lips. She gasps as the water hits her empty stomach, but at least her throat feels better. Steve's looking at her with concerned eyes, anxious and hesitant.

"How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do?" he asks, and she can't help that the corner of her mouth twitches up. They're stupid questions really, considering the state she's in. She knows he just wants to help. But it triggers a stupid and somewhat unexpected longing.

She wants him to hold her like he does when they're behind his shield, close and protected, but she doesn't know how to say it. She doesn't even know how to process the thought of him doing so without an explosion or spray of bullets forcing her into his arms. So instead she pushes the thought aside and says the only thing that comes to mind because he's clearly waiting for her to answer.

"That bear is hideous," she croaks, her voice weak from disuse. Relief floods his face and the sight of it makes her chest ache for reasons entirely separate from her current medical condition. "I hope you're not the one who bought it."