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How long had she been working at SHIELD? Too long to not have this information by now. The time does not matter; what matters is that she has the location.
Not even Natasha knows where she's gone, only that she left the base last night and will return tomorrow morning. Malka had spent the night in a hotel in New York before renting a car and driving upstate to a remote hospital that sends shivers down her spine.
As she walks in, no one notices her, even with the lack of bustling injuries. She pulls her hood tighter over her head and continues down the hall. Though she knows which room she wants to get to, she continues to check the note on her hand as she walks through the halls, keeping her head down.
The floor is quieter than she expects, only a few nurses, maybe two doctors. They ignore her as she follows the raspy breathing she can feel in her bones. She can feel the two others sitting in the room, so instead of walking in, she passes by.
A man lies in a hospital bed. Someone in a wheelchair sits at his side as a woman who appears to be middle-aged leans against the windowsill, twisting the wedding ring on her finger. Malka settles in a chair in the hallway two rooms over and waits.
She hadn't caught a glimpse of anyone's face, but the man she hopes to see wouldn't be in a hospital bed if he could help it. His spirit wouldn't allow it. Would he even tolerate seeing her again? Would he recognize her?
Or would he hate her for failing him?
Pursing her lips, Malka slumps in her seat and glances back at the right doorway. She'll wait all night if she has to for the others to leave if only to get a few moments alone with him. A few moments is all she'll need, she's sure of it.
The woman in the room pokes her head out, long raven hair flowing over her shoulder as she looks around. Malka forces herself to look forward, gripping her wrist tightly when she feels breath pointed at her.
She relaxes when the air returns to normal, as the woman walks back into the room.
Malka waits an hour. Then two. Even as lunch dawns, they do not leave his side.
It is not until mid-afternoon that she feels their breathing stop. Glancing at the room, she frowns. Had they left? She would have seen them, but they no longer breathe the same air. She purses her lips as she stands and slowly approaches the room, glancing in to see only the man on the bed.
Malka closes the door behind her, wincing at its soft click before she turns back to the man. Each step is slow and careful as she approaches, her thumb pressed so tightly against her wrist, she can feel her pulse begging to break free.
He's old now with wrinkles all over his face, but she still recognizes him. Even bedridden, he holds the same swagger and pain he had back then. Her fingers make contact with the cushion as she stares at his face, the oxygen flowing in and out of the tube in his nose.
