Changes (A Prequel to "Through, Together")

Wake-Up Call

Natasha opened her eyes to cream-colored curtains and yellow walls. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her head felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton. There was a buzzing in her ears, and a soreness on her left side. Her shoulder, arm, and fingers felt stiff, and her ribs felt tight. She took a slow, cautious breath to inflate her lungs and test their durability as her mind struggled to recap the events that had brought her here. Wherever "here" was." She remembered the BASRAC unit, finding Coulson, chasing Garrett; then the explosion. God... the explosion.

A quiet groan escaped her lips.

"Nat?"

Steve perked up from the chair he was sitting in. It was positioned off to the side of the bed, tucked slightly away in the corner. It was small for his large body, stiff and uncomfortable, but he'd hardly left it. He'd been too worried to even sleep, let alone get up and roam about the strange, small house they'd found themselves in. Now, he was pushing himself to a stand and pulling the chair closer to the bed. Natasha watched him, some groggy confusion on her face.

"Hey," he said quietly as he settled back down into the chair. "How are you feeling?"

Natasha touched the side of her head, where a bandage was in place. She winced a little, closing her eyes for a second. Another groan left her.

"That good, huh?" Steve chuckled, though it did little to lighten his expression. Worry knitted his brows together and pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Nat forced herself to sit up. It took some effort, but she managed to slide up and lean her back against the wall. Someone had dressed her in a loose fitting t-shirt and some sweatpants. "Where are we?" She asked, turning her eyes to Steve. "Coulson... is he?"

"Coulson is going to be just fine," Steve assured her. "It's you we were worried about. Natasha," he fixed her with a serious look.

Here it comes, she thought.

"You could've gotten yourself killed."

Defensiveness bubbled up inside of her, chasing away the rest of her grogginess and replacing it with anger. She was not in the mood for this. Grabbing a fistful of blankets, Natasha flipped them off of her so she could swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She placed her feet on the ground and sat facing Steve for a moment.

"I didn't think letting that psycho get away seemed like a particularly good idea," she said coolly.

"The mission was to get Coulson." Steve said.

Heat rose up the back of Natasha's neck and coiled around it like a snake. "There was no mission!" She exclaimed. "We aren't S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore, Steve. We aren't Avengers anymore!"

Steve felt the bite of her words. He knew what they insinuated. They weren't Avengers anymore, and part of that was his fault. He couldn't help but to feel like Natasha blamed him for that. He didn't fault her. How could he? It was his fault that she'd been put in that position, after all, forced to choose between sides. He looked down for a second, keeping his expression calm despite the feelings swirling around in his chest.

"You're right," he finally said, "but that doesn't give you an excuse to almost get yourself killed."

"Because you're the guy to give lessons on recklessness." Natasha growled. She pushed herself to a stand, perhaps a bit too quickly. Pain stabbed into her side and made her head swim. Before she knew it, the world was spinning around her.

Steve was there in an instant. He shot up from his chair and grabbed her, wrapping an arm around her waist and securing her against him.

"Natasha-"