Taken

Chapter 12

Natasha's POV:

"Clint!" I screamed as I watched my best friend and partner fall to the ground. It was unprofessional, I know, but emotion got the best of me in that moment. He collapsed like a puppet that had its strings cut. I scanned the room quickly to ensure no others were lurking before I ran to the still body of my partner. I shook his shoulder gently, "Clint?" I asked tentatively as I rolled him over so he was facing up. He groaned softly and I swear I nearly jumped in joy.

"Tasha?" he whispered weakly. Blood trickled slowly as it parted his lips and dripped down his chin. I felt bile rise in my throat but I pushed it back down. I was a professional; I needed to remain that way. Besides- Clint and I had been through far worse; Germany, for example. I shuddered involuntarily at the mere thought of what had happened up there. I shoved my thoughts to the side and turned my focus back to the task at hand, Clint was what mattered most right now, and anything else could wait.

As I looked back at his ever paling face his eyes began to slip shut. I raised the hand that wasn't supporting him and slapped him across the face- now wasn't the time for niceties. I knew that due to the fact that we had no extraction team we needed both of us to make it out alive, I wouldn't be able to carry Clint out as well as fight my way through a few dozen agents with the intent to kill us.

He groaned as my hand met his face, "Great bedside manner, Nat." he murmured. I rolled my eyes and suppressed a groan of my own, typical Clint. Although, really I should be happy he was even awake, not to mention alive, to joke. Based off the amount of blood that was making its way through his lips and pooling underneath him the bullet had struck one of his lungs- the left one, most likely.

"Keep your damn eyes open, got it?" I demanded in a harsh voice.

"Yeah, yeah. You're the boss, woman." He groaned. His voice sounded a little stronger, thankfully.

"I need to wrap it," I told Clint curtly, "so you need to sit up."

He muttered something quietly under his breath, my guess was that he was cursing me, but he sat up nonetheless. I heard his breath catch in his throat in pain as he moved but he for the most part, stayed silent. I reached into the pouch at my hip and withdrew a long strip of cloth to use for a bandage. Moving slowly so that I wouldn't jostle the pained man I shifted my body around and positioned myself so that I could wrap up his back. Gently, I wrapped the length of cloth around his torso and under and over his arms to secure it. When I was absolutely certain that it would not slip or shift and that it was tight enough to stop the flow of blood I moved back to my position in front of him.

"Come on," I said, reaching out a hand for him to grab, "we have to go."

He reached up and grasped my arm, trying to pull himself up. He managed to hoist his upper body up but seemed unable to get his legs under him. His face contorted into an expression of exertion and then into pain. He collapsed back to the ground, sweat popping off his brow. He hung his head down but I could see his forehead wrinkle in concentration.

After a moment he lifted his head to look at me and the most disturbing look I had ever seen crossed his face. For the first time in the section of my life with him in it, he looked scared; scared and hopeless.

He locked eyes with me and for a split second it was like I could feel his pain. "Tash," he said in a quiet voice laced with fear, "I can't move my legs."

~At the hospital~

Third person POV:

Steve sighed, thinking back to when he had walked in to see Tony awake.

"Tony?" Steve gasped. He hurried to his friend's bed as Tony's eyes followed his path.

Tony groaned, his voice laced with pain, "Yep, that'd be me." Steve felt a large smile break across his face, he was sure he looked ridiculous but at this point he didn't care. "You look like crap." Tony continued, "When's the last time you slept?"