Natasha's POV:
"Clint!" I screamed as I watched my best friend and partner fall to the ground. It was unprofessional, I know, but emotion got the best of me in that moment. He collapsed like a puppet that had its strings cut. I scanned the room quickly to ensure no others were lurking before I ran to the still body of my partner. I shook his shoulder gently, "Clint?" I asked tentatively as I rolled him over so he was facing up. He groaned softly and I swear I nearly jumped in joy.
"Tasha?" he whispered weakly. Blood trickled slowly as it parted his lips and dripped down his chin. I felt bile rise in my throat but I pushed it back down. I was a professional; I needed to remain that way. Besides- Clint and I had been through far worse; Germany, for example. I shuddered involuntarily at the mere thought of what had happened up there. I shoved my thoughts to the side and turned my focus back to the task at hand, Clint was what mattered most right now, and anything else could wait.
As I looked back at his ever paling face his eyes began to slip shut. I raised the hand that wasn't supporting him and slapped him across the face- now wasn't the time for niceties. I knew that due to the fact that we had no extraction team we needed both of us to make it out alive, I wouldn't be able to carry Clint out as well as fight my way through a few dozen agents with the intent to kill us.
He groaned as my hand met his face, "Great bedside manner, Nat." he murmured. I rolled my eyes and suppressed a groan of my own, typical Clint. Although, really I should be happy he was even awake, not to mention alive, to joke. Based off the amount of blood that was making its way through his lips and pooling underneath him the bullet had struck one of his lungs- the left one, most likely.
"Keep your damn eyes open, got it?" I demanded in a harsh voice.
"Yeah, yeah. You're the boss, woman." He groaned. His voice sounded a little stronger, thankfully.
"I need to wrap it," I told Clint curtly, "so you need to sit up."
He muttered something quietly under his breath, my guess was that he was cursing me, but he sat up nonetheless. I heard his breath catch in his throat in pain as he moved but he for the most part, stayed silent. I reached into the pouch at my hip and withdrew a long strip of cloth to use for a bandage. Moving slowly so that I wouldn't jostle the pained man I shifted my body around and positioned myself so that I could wrap up his back. Gently, I wrapped the length of cloth around his torso and under and over his arms to secure it. When I was absolutely certain that it would not slip or shift and that it was tight enough to stop the flow of blood I moved back to my position in front of him.
"Come on," I said, reaching out a hand for him to grab, "we have to go."
He reached up and grasped my arm, trying to pull himself up. He managed to hoist his upper body up but seemed unable to get his legs under him. His face contorted into an expression of exertion and then into pain. He collapsed back to the ground, sweat popping off his brow. He hung his head down but I could see his forehead wrinkle in concentration.
After a moment he lifted his head to look at me and the most disturbing look I had ever seen crossed his face. For the first time in the section of my life with him in it, he looked scared; scared and hopeless.
He locked eyes with me and for a split second it was like I could feel his pain. "Tash," he said in a quiet voice laced with fear, "I can't move my legs."
~At the hospital~
Third person POV:
Steve sighed, thinking back to when he had walked in to see Tony awake.
"Tony?" Steve gasped. He hurried to his friend's bed as Tony's eyes followed his path.
Tony groaned, his voice laced with pain, "Yep, that'd be me." Steve felt a large smile break across his face, he was sure he looked ridiculous but at this point he didn't care. "You look like crap." Tony continued, "When's the last time you slept?"
Steve shrugged, "A few days, I don't need as much as normal people." He added the last part as he saw Tony open his mouth to say something.
Tony looked around to take in his surroundings before speaking again. "How long have I been out?" he asked,
"About two weeks." Steve answered honestly, "You haven't missed anything, don't worry." Tony drew his eyebrows and motioned for Steve to continue. "We've all been here." Steve admitted, "Well except for Natasha and Clint, they were called off on mission by Fury."
Tony nodded in understanding, "And, um, how much do you...know?" he trailed off on the last part, his voice growing quieter.
Steve sighed deeply, he knew this was eventually going to rise as a topic of conversation, but he still felt unprepared. After all, what do you say to someone who was abused and neglected because of you? As if Tony knew the self-loathing thoughts crossing Steve's mind he said, "It wasn't anyone's fault, anyone other than dear old pops at least." He said the last part bitterly and without humor. Something in his tone made Steve wince, that type of tone didn't belong in the joking, childish, genius inventor.
Steve opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything he was cut off by a harsh groan emitted by the older man. Tony closed his eyes tightly as a wave of pain wracked his body, and by the time he opened them Steve's worried face was leaning over him.
Tony waved a hand in front of his face to drive Steve away, "I'm fine." He muttered.
Steve raised his eyebrows, "Right and I'm the president." He replied skeptically.
Tony rolled his eyes, "Seriously, Rogers, leave it."
Steve sighed again, "I'm going to go get a doctor." He stood and walked to the door.
"Not going to help." Tony muttered to Steve's retreating back. He could tell that Steve heard him; as he paused for just a second after Tony said it, but he continued walking anyway. Steve walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving Tony alone with his pain. Five long minutes later the doctor returned to give him more pain medication, and ten minutes later he had fallen back into a deep sleep.
~End Flashback~
That had been a few days ago, and since then Tony had done nothing but wake up for a few minutes at a time; never fully lucid. When Steve had, once again, brought his concerns up to Tony's doctor he had said that perhaps Tony hadn't woken up because he didn't WANT to wake up.
This thought had stuck with Steve, and was continuously running through his brain; could Tony really choose to keep himself under? And more than that; did he want to?
Steve sighed and leaned his head further into his hand, he was tired. As his drifted off, his hand loosely lain over Tony's, he felt it twitch. He was instantly awake, "Tony?"
He received only a soft groan in response, but it was enough. He whipped out his phone, an odd touchscreen model Tony had configured for him, and sent a text to Bruce. Bruce had given Steve a stern talking down for not telling him that Tony had woken up as soon as he did. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.
Tony slowly opened his eyes and blinked rapidly to open them. "Hey." Steve said quietly.
Tony groaned again in response, "Ugh." He said finally. Steve's phone buzzed from in his pocket- a text from Bruce. "Coming down now." It read.
Steve exhaled lightly, now if only he knew where Natasha and Clint had been sent to. "Here." Steve said gently as he noticed Tony struggling to sit up. He placed a gentle hand on his friend's back and helped to guide him up into a sitting position.
"Thanks." Tony mumbled.
"So," Steve started, trying to drum up a conversation, "the doctor said that when you woke up again you could be sent back home. He thinks that you've recovered enough to be released into our care."
Tony raised his eyebrows, "Your care? No thanks, I don't particularly want to be babied."
Steve sighed deeply, "Well too bad, you're going to be."
"Seriously? I think I can survive on my own." Tony snapped as her rolled his eyes.
"And I don't doubt that," Steve stated calmly, "but you're not going to."
Tony closed his eyes and sighed, "Oh my God."
"Do you know how many times we almost lost you?" Steve snapped, now growing angry. He took a deep breath to visibly calm himself before continuing, "You almost died. You actually flat lined multiple times, so yeah- you're going to be with us. Deal with it; you should be happy that people are actually caring about you for once in your life!" He took another breath, the first one not having done him any good. When he met Tony's eyes again he realized he had struck a nerve, "T-Tony-"he stammered. "Great going Rogers!" he cursed himself mentally, "Why don't you just bring all that stuff back up? It's not as if he wasn't just forced to relive every painful detail of it!" He tried to continue out loud, "I didn't mean that, I-"
"Yes you did." Tony stated coldly.
"Tony, I swear," Steve tried.
Tony cut him off again, "Just get out." He murmured, shaking his head. He turned to the side and shut his eyes so he wouldn't see Steve.
Steve slowly rose to his feet, hating every inch of his being, "Goddamn it Rogers." He thought angrily. He walked out of the room silently, gently closing the door behind him.
Bruce chose that moment to come running down through the halls towards him. "Steve!" he gasped breathlessly. Noticing the dejected look on his friends face he asked, "What is it, what's wrong?"
Steve shook his head silently. After a moment of silence he finally spoke, "I screwed things up, Banner."
"What do you mean, what happened?" Bruce questioned rapidly.
Steve simply shook his head mutely again. "Just, please...talk to him?" he begged.
Bruce nodded, "Yeah sure, of course." Taking in Steve's appearance he softly added, "Why don't you go back home and rest? No offence, but you look like crap."
"Funny," Steve murmured quietly, "that's what he said."
~At the warehouse~
Clint POV:
A burning pain spread across my back and radiated from my spine, but that wasn't even remotely what I was worried about.
Despite the aching cold that seemed to seep from every pore on my body, my legs felt complete numb. I dimly registered Natasha stretching out her arm to help me get to my feet. I took her hand in my own and pulled, every muscle in my body straining to stand. Out of all the things that I had been through I never thought standing would be one of the hardest ones. I groaned as my arm muscles gave out and I collapsed back to the floor. The impact sent spikes of pain through my back and I groaned again.
I looked down intently at my legs; it shouldn't be this hard to move them. I felt my forehead wrinkle up as I strained to do something, anything- even just move my pinky toe. My face began to hurt due to how hard I was scrunching it in concentration.
Finally I looked up, my scared eyes meeting Natasha's worried ones. My voice betrayed how I felt, "Tash, I can't move my legs."