bulletproof

4

A soft jazzy piece of music was playing through hidden speakers in the ceiling as they stood waiting. Clint broke the awkward silence between them with a cautious question, "What are we going to do once we find out where she is?"

Steve's thoughts stopped whizzing through his head as he paused to think. He wet his lips before replying, timidly, "Maybe...I'll..." and then he took a deep breath and retreated into his 'Captain America' persona, "We'll wait outside her room till the nurses say we can enter and then..." he took another deep breath, "We'll talk to her...like we always do" he voice cracked on the last word and Clint fought back his instincts as a father to comfort his friend.

Steve wasn't really a ninety-seven-year-old. And right now, it was clearer than ever that he was just a young man from Brooklyn.

The doors pinged open again and they stepped out, hurrying to the front desk and immediately firing questions of the same meaning at the receptionist.

He raised a hand to command silence and they quietened, waiting for him to start talking.

"Calm down. Now, what is the matter? How can I help you?" He removed the thick-rimmed glasses from his nose and placed his hands on the desk, clasped.

Clint spoke up first, shooting Steve down, "We're looking for a patient of yours...Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N...she was brought in here about...I think, half an hour ago, approximately."

The receptionist turned to his computer and typed in her name, "She was brought in on a jet?" He sounded surprised and looked at them before doing a double-take, suddenly seeing that Captain America and Hawkeye were standing right there.

"Yeah" affirmed Clint, before telling Steve, "I'm going to be the one who's doing the talking...You need to breathe."

Steve hadn't been told that he 'needed to breathe' since before the serum when he still suffered from asthma and got overexcited and lost control over his breathing. But he obeyed, inhaling and exhaling while Clint gave the receptionist all the details and got Y/N's location.

"Yeah...she's in Room 19B in this ward here," The receptionist had swivelled his computer screen around so that he could show him the map of the hospital, "They're in the middle of surgery right now...you'll have to wait outside until it's over but..." He turned the screen back around and went back to the information, "If you say that she was as fatally wounded as that then..." he looked regretfully at the two, "It might last for twenty-four hours...fifteen at the minimum if I guessed correctly...I'm sorry."

Steve's shoulders slumped, he hadn't comprehended a single word the man had said but he heard the tone and it was enough. Clint thanked him and shook his head, despondently.

As they got back into the elevator, and the doors closed, he hit the side of it, not too hard that it might tamper with the functions but enough so that he could release some of his frustration.

"Fuck!" he cried out, wringing his hands and Steve watched him, frigid in place.

Clint wiped his face with his hands and bit into his fist, starting to scream as pain and anger and sadness took over his senses. Tears gushed over his cheeks and he repeated the same word over and over, having them get quieter and quieter as it went on, "Fuck, fuck, fuck"

The doors opened and thankfully no one was waiting outside. Clint rubbed at his eyes, trying to hide any evidence of tears but he only made his eyes appear redder and more irritated. His hand had teeth-marks from how hard he'd bitten into it and it was starting to throb from punching the wall too.

They meandered through the hospital till they found the others exactly where they'd left them. They looked up with hopeful expressions that were cast away once they saw the despair on them.

"What happened?" Natasha asked, approaching them, her hands were clean, and she looked closed off and emotionless, "Did you manage to find where she is?"

Clint sighed, "Yeah, she's in room 19B in this ward for people with bullet or stab wounds but she's in surgery right now." He sat beside Sam and rested his face in his hands.

They all looked haggard.

"And?" Tony demanded, "Do you know when she'll be out?"

"Around twenty-four hours... estimated."

He collapsed back into his seat, exasperated. And then he said, "We can't just wait here. Some of us need to get back and do a mission report and then the others will stay outside her room and tell us when she's finished. And then we'll switch, wait for her to recuperate and let you know when she's awake, so we can all see her." He looked around for any arguments but found none.

"Sam, Bruce, and I will stay here," Nat told him, "Steve needs rest, so do you two but especially Steve."

They all looked at the super soldier, who looked like he was hanging on by just a thread. He opened his mouth to protest but it was like he'd lost his voice. Wordlessly, he reluctantly nodded and with that, he, Tony, and Clint headed back to the jet to go back home.