Chapter 17

"He lives!" Clint teased, throwing his hands up in the air as he and the others entered the hospital room to see a very battered, but breathing, Steve.

They crowded around the end of his bed, eagerly waiting to hear him talk for the first time since being shot at the prison. His lips curved upward in a sarcastic smile and forced out a small laugh, "Surprise."

His voice was raspy. His tiny breaths shook with every inhale and exhale; the faint pain that came with every breath gnawed at his lungs – causing him to cough unwillingly and wince as he swallowed. He was uncomfortable; the surrounding of his teammates made it far worse than he imagined. Though they had seen him beaten pretty badly before, this was different. It was like he could sense the pity in their stares – the way they hovered above him with sorry looks; the way they exchanged looks with one another after eyeing him up and down. He didn't like that feeling... not even from them.

But he also didn't want them to leave. It was weird. It was two completely contrasting wants. He wanted them at his side in the exact same way he didn't even want them to look at him. He wasn't sure why this was, but he didn't enjoy not being able to see things clearly. All he knew for certain was one thing.

He wanted to go home.

"That's a relief," Scott broke the silence with a nervous laugh, "Not gonna lie, I already had your funeral planned out."

Wanda, who was standing next to Scott, shot him an icy glare and dug her elbow hard into his side. He winced at the contact and folded over in pain, "It was a joke!" He moaned through his teeth.

"Funny; jokes are supposed to be funny." She pulled gently on his shoulder to straighten him up.

Steve laughed, with his voice still raspy, "It's alright, Wanda." He adjusted himself in his bed but grunted at the sudden movement. The nurse in the corner rushed over to his side to steady him as he sat up straight, exhaling as the pain went faded from his muscles.

Wanda rubbed the side of her arm and lowered her eyes. "We were worried about you."

"You took a bad hit, man." Sam emphasized.

"Did I? I almost forgot in the ten minutes I've been awake." Steve said sarcastically.

"I'll be honest, I did not think you were gonna make it." Scott laughed, receiving another threatening look from Wanda. He shielded his face with his hands "Please don't hit me!"

Bucky shook his head in agreement with Scott, "None of us did."

Steve rolled his eyes teasingly, trying to avoid the negative. "Well thanks for the positivity, you guys."

There was a short silence. Everyone in the room exchanged a look, unknowing of what to say. Wanda rocked back and forth on her heels with her lips pursed – a sign that she was uncomfortable. Then again, everyone in the room was. Clint blew an air bubble in his mouth and popped it slowly, looking nervously around the room as he waited for someone to say something. Steve sighed and lowered his eyes. So this is what it's come to. Nobody knows how to talk to nobody anymore.

Then Sam turned to the back of the room. "Natasha, you're being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal." He mocked, hoping to get a lighthearted, or at least slightly sarcastic reaction from her, as she had said the same thing to Tony the last time they were all together peacefully in a group setting.

But he got nothing. Nothing except an alarmed glance from her – a sign that he had just interrupted her thoughts – and then a slow shift of her eyes to Steve in his bed.

Steve met her gaze, and suddenly, that half-feeling of not wanting to see any of them vanished completely.

He searched for something, some sort of visible emotion in her eyes, but he couldn't find one. She looked like she was in some form of shock – which was most likely true, but he just wanted her to say something – something other than the other rephrased ways of saying "I can't believe you're not dead!"

But he got the same thing from her. "You're alive..." she muttered, her voice soft and her eyes now thick with relief and sorry.

"I'll be damned, right?" He remarked. His lips quivered into a soft smile. Hers did not.

At this point, Clint had gestured the others quietly out of the room so that Natasha could have her moment to talk with Steve in the privacy of an empty room. She hadn't told him directly how she felt for Steve, but he could guess. It was quite obvious to Clint, actually, and had been for a while. He knew that anything she could possibly want to say to Steve wasn't anything she'd want to share whole group.

The nurse began to follow them out, and stopped at the door to look at the two left alone in the room. "I'll be right outside the door – holler if you need me." She half smiled. Steve nodded. Then the door closed.

Natasha looked at him, smiled lightly, and whispered "Hey," as she walked to meet the edge of his bed from the side.

"How long was I out?" He asked.

"A few hours..." She lowered her eyes and twiddled with her hands, "Your heart stopped."

"Sorry."

Natasha looked back up at him and rolled her eyes, "Only you would apologize for dying."

"Did everyone make it out safely?" He swallowed, hoping the answer would be yes.

Natasha quirked her brow and stepped closer to the bed, lowering herself into the nurse's chair beside him. "You tell me. You just saw them, didn't you?"

"I don't know... they were a little blurry from far away..." he said, only half teasing.

Natasha smirked, sitting forward in her chair and answering his question, "Everyone was fine, thanks to Wanda." With the exception of you.

"Wanda saved us?"

"You'd be dead if she hadn't."

Steve sat back, "Then I guess I'll have to thank her when I get out of here."

"The doctors say you should be able to walk again between now and tomorrow – maybe even within the next couple hours. Until then they said it's best that you get some rest." Natasha mentioned, changing the subject.

"I just woke up."

"Yes, but I'd hardly call what you just went through "resting.""

"I don't want to rest." He paused, "I can't close my eyes, Nat. I'm afraid I'll never open them again."

She sighed, "I know the feeling."

"I know you do."

There was silence.

"I gotta know," he started, "While I was being... rose from the dead, per say – what were you doing?"

Natasha laughed, knowing that he would have asked that question one way or another. "Clint was on the phone with Laura and you were being cut open. I was forced to talk with somebody else. He had some very interesting pre-serum-you stories, which by the way – very impressive people skills for a guy who tried to murder us a couple years ago."

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes, realizing she meant Bucky. "He's not so bad."

"No he isn't." She admitted, "But I would've much rather sat and talked with you."

"Well, seeing as I'm awake now..."

"Awake now..." she trailed off.

"Natasha,"

"'Natasha,' what? 'Natasha, I'm fine?'" She shook her head, making a mockery of what he could've said to help stop herself from losing it.

"I am fine." He objected.

"Is that right?" She asked coldly. "Do me a favor, please: just try to sit up on your own right now."

Steve looked at her and sighed. He turned his head away from her, knowing she was right in terms of physical health.

She shook her head, "I think you and I have very different ideas of 'fine'."

"Don't do this."

"Do what? Lay it out the way it is? You were DEAD, Steve! You died!" She raised her voice, shaking as she said the word "dead".

"Stop it, Natasha!" He matched her volume, causing her to lean back slightly in her chair. "Please! Okay? I know it was scary but it's over, alright? I'm breathing now."

Natasha raised her eyebrows, "So now 'breathing' is the equivalent to 'fine'?"

"You know it always has been for me."

She shook her head and looked away, "Jesus, Steve..." she wined; pleading, "that's not good. I know how low the bar falls for your standards of 'okay', but you've got to understand that this... this wasn't okay. I mean just imagine what could've happened; what would've happened, if Wanda wasn't able to save us in time-"

"So now you're doubting Wanda's abilities?"

"I've doubted everything since they shot you." She admitted; her brows furrowed in sorrow and frustration. "Picture it, Steve. Picture yourself dead on the operating table. Picture the surgeon walking into the waiting room with his cap in his hand. Visualize our faces when he tells us that they couldn't save you."

"Stop."

"That very well could have been the case."

"But it wasn't."

"But it could've been." She shook her head, "And I'm not sure how I would've lived with myself if that happened."

Steve looked at her, "Natasha, this had nothing to do with you."

"It did, though." She bit her lip and closed her eyes, inching her fingers towards his and taking his hand in her own. "I made a promise to you... to protect you..." Her eyes watered, "That's a promise I don't think I can keep anymore."

Steve looked down at his hand being covered by hers, and placed his free hand on top. He sighed, "I know you think it's your job to take care of me, just like I think it's mine to take care of you... but you'll never be able to guarantee my safety. You never could. And that's gonna have to be okay with you." He took a moment to study her face, watching her features twist into relaxation slowly, "You don't owe me anything, Nat."

"I owe you everything." She corrected; her voice frail as one had ever heard. Steve lowered his eyes.

"You don't." He insisted.

"Then why do I feel like I do?"

He almost chuckled, "The same reason I feel like I owe it to you, I guess... When you spend your whole life saving the world..." his eyes wandered back to hers, "We just come by it naturally. The feeling's normal."

Normal, she thought. Normal?

He felt as if he owed her as well? How could that be possible?

He'd saved for life many more times than she had saved his – that was a debt she'd never be able to repay. But he wasn't the only friend she had that risked their life to save hers – Thor had, when the Hulk was preparing to attack her on the helicarrier; T'Challa had, when The Winter Soldier had her in a chokehold at the Compound; Tony had multiple times, Wanda had, pretty much everyone she knew had – but she didn't feel any kind of weight pressing for her to repay them. That weight only came with Steve.

Maybe a big part of that was because she felt something for him that she didn't feel for any of the others; some strange combination of appreciation and admiration that she hadn't felt with anybody she'd ever known before, quite honestly. Say the word, she thought... love.

It was a new concept for her. And she hated and loved it at the same time. It was a feeling that she couldn't seem to shake – the feeling of letting him know that she understood the debt she had left to be repaid, and him refusing to accept any of it. He trusted her, she trusted him – and it was as simple as that.

Her face warmed. She grinded her teeth together as she felt her lips quivering, preparing to give way as she would let go any moment. Her vision was clouded by a glossy sheen of tears as they filled her eyes. She whispered tenuously, "I thought you were gonna die."

Steve's features sank as he watched a tear trickle down the side of her face and down her neck. This was Natasha. This was the side of Natasha that nobody else got to see – her weak side; her most vulnerable state – the Natasha that rarely surfaced.

This was his Natasha.

And at that moment – he saw how she truly felt for him, beneath the rock-solid shell that kept it hidden. He saw her love for him... the love that he returned for her.

He flashed a broken smile at her. His eyes rolled as he chuckled, "You thought."

Natasha laughed through her soft flow of tears, "I did..." she bit her lip, "But I guess I was wro..." her voice trailed off as she stopped herself; looking away.

Steve's eyes widened, "Say it..."

"No."

"I need to hear you say it. Go on: 'I was...'"

She rolled her eyes, "I was not right."

He looked at her. "Wrong is the word I believe you're looking for. But I'll take it."

They both smiled. There was a moment of pause as she looked at him with still watery eyes, and she got up from her seat. In a swift movement, her arms were locked around his upper body as she hugged him. He was caught off guard, but it was only a split second before he wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Her head rested on his shoulder as she tried hard not to hurt him, but for the moment he felt no pain. For the moment – they both felt safe.

When she broke the hug, she sat back on the edge of the bed and took a moment to recollect everything they'd been through up until that point. In summary, they had been through hell and high water but it always managed to come full circle, one way or the other. She knew this would too. And so did he.

"We'll get to go back home." She promised, wiping away all fear that she couldn't keep it as she knew she would do everything in her power this time to ensure that it would stay true.

He looked at her, and saw so much of what he'd already known: selflessness, honesty, compassion... and he murmured, "I'm already home."

Before she had even the slightest sliver of time to take in his words, the peacefulness of their empty room was interrupted by a thunderous clash of panicked cries and voices from behind the door. Both their heads whipped around to face it in alarm.

"What is that?" Steve asked; his eyes wandering in apprehension and beginning to steady himself upright, despite the sharp pain he felt when doing so.

Natasha's eyes remained locked on the door, "I don't know – stay here. I'll be right back."

She got up from her chair and raced outside. She was almost swept by a crowd of patients and alarmed hospital workers fleeing from the direction of the waiting room. Her eyes followed where they were heading and she caught sight of an exit door, just before it was trampled open. She walked the opposite direction as everybody else and peered around the corner to see just what they were running from.

As if she even needed to. As if she didn't already know what awaited her on the other side. As if she needed to see the swarm of Ross' men in black hurdling at the rest of the team to know that that was what was happening.

Her breath was taken from her lungs as she didn't even bother to help them; as she flung herself back around the corner to get to Steve's room.

"Get up!" She ordered him as she raced to help him out of the bed, "Get up! We have to go!"

He winced in pain as she stood him up on his feet before collapsing over her to study himself, "Go where!? What's wrong!?"

Out of breath, she warned, "It's Ross. They found us. Again."