Poisoned Freedom

#12

One Week Later

"Barton?"

"Hm?"

"Laura's calling again," with a sigh, Clint takes his mobile from Steve and presses it to his ear. Regretfully the Archer tears himself away from the hospital bed he's barely moved from the side of this last week, stepping outside and leaving the Captain alone with the patient.

"I don't know, Laur... She hasn't woken up yet. I just want to be here when she does, I gotta make sure she's okay. I'm sorry-" Clint finds himself cut off as someone comes up behind him, grabbing the mobile from his hand.

"Hi, Mrs Barton. Yes it's me: Tony Stark," Tony smiles too-sweetly at Clint as the Archer glares, knowing exactly what the other's going to do. "He'll be home later today. Yes, I promise. Alright. Thanks. You too, Mrs Barton. Bye," Tony hangs up with one of his infamous, trademark smirks, chucking Clint his phone back. Luckily, he catches it perfectly.

"I'm still not going," Clint shakes his head adamantly, glancing past Tony's head to the infirmary where he can see Steve, sitting beside the bed and staring at the patient. He wants to be back in there, desperately, but Iron Man would never let him past without a fight.

"Yes, you are," Tony replies in the exact same tone. "You need to be with your family, just as much as they need you."

"She needs me!" Clint gestures exasperatedly to the hospital room.

"She would want you to go home and you know that. If she were awake-"

"But she's not awake. And that's the damn problem, Stark. That's why I can't leave."

"Let me finish, Barton; if she were awake, she'd be telling you to stop being so stupid and obstinate, and you know better than anyone that she would hate herself for keeping you here."

Clint stops in his tracks, trying to formulate an appropriate argument- he gives up when he realises no one beats Anthony Edward Stark in an argument. No one is as stupidly, annoyingly... Argumentative, as Anthony Edward Stark, it's just not possible. The Archer throws up his arms in defeat, spitting out a "I am so glad you're an only child. But fine," before pushing past Tony back into the infirmary. "Cap? I'm going home, if that's okay with you..."

"Of course it is," Steve smiles. "Who did you think asked Stark to persuade you?"

"Romanoff."

"That would make sense, actually," with a slight chuckle, Steve stands up, patting Clint on the shoulder as he leaves the infirmary. "I'll leave you two alone to say goodbye." The Archer mumbles his thanks, gaze landing on the bed. He takes the seat beside it, entwining his hand with the patient's lifeless, dull grey fingers on the edge of the hospital bed.

"Hey, Kat," he whispers; then all he does it stare at the girl. Her grey skin, cleaned now of the oily blood that plagued it, looks deathly against the pure white room, as does her jet black hair in one of Natasha's makeshift buns atop her head. Underneath the snowy gown, Clint can just make out the faint ridge where the bandages wrapped around her chest and stomach start and end, encasing the too many broken ribs however his eyes can't help but be drawn to the tubes emerging from the girl's arms and the others entering her nasal passage; there was an oxygen mask there too, for the first couple of days before someone- Clint can't remember who, as Bruce is still completely off the radar- decided it was needlessly unimportant.