After a minute, Steve stood up abruptly, grabbing their attention. His face was full of anguish and he had to clear his throat before he could speak, "I'm going to the front desk, ask where Y/N is..."
Clint nodded, shuddering as he added, "Me too, I can't just sit here..." and he looked over to Steve, supportively.
The super-soldier swallowed back a lump in his throat and blinked back tears, his body was so tired, and he just wanted rest. But he could manage a few more hours before passing out.
He spoke up again, "Tony?" the billionaire stared up at him from the table, rubbing his arm, "Did you register her name into the hospital when you called them?"
He got a nod back and he sighed with relief.
"We'll meet you guys once we find out where she is..." He commented, taking off his gloves and throwing them on the table, carelessly, "Don't move till we come back."
The rest of the Avengers nodded. They couldn't think. Sure, each of them had been injured, seriously sometimes, but none of them had come so close to death as Y/N. And none of them had had a strong relationship with anyone except her.
When she had been recruited onto the team, she had made it her mission to befriend each and every one of them. She developed a close bond with them all and, though they had not realised it at the time, they treasured that friendship. Y/N saw them all without faults and looked up to them as they looked up to her. She was the glue to the team and if she died, there probably wouldn't be a team left.
Nat suddenly got up as well and announced she was going to the bathroom, her voice was thick with emotion as memories of the times they had fooled around on a mission undercover and escaped by the skin of their teeth while laughing, or when they'd just sit on the sofa and binge-watched Netflix soap operas until the sun rose, or when they'd talk...or cry. She trusted Y/N with her secrets and she only cried around her when things got too much for her.
The bathroom door flew open as she burst in, startling two old women who had been gossiping by the hand-towels. The crones hurried out, muttering old-timey insults as Nat turned on the tap, rubbing ferociously at her hands. Disgust overwhelmed her as she saw the water turn a red colour as it ran off her hands. It looked like what water looked like when you washed your hands of red paint and all that did was remind her of when she and Y/N decided to enter a painting class and got covered, head to toe, in red and yellow paint. Nat felt nauseous but quashed it down, paying close attention at removing the paint-no- blood from her hands, careful to scrub away at the corners and under her fingernails. She frantically squirted a dollop of soap into the centre of her palm and continued washing.
She gasped as the smell of blood overpowered her nostrils and got more soap, praying the smell of mangos would be stronger than the horrifying metallic scent.
"Please, please, please" she chanted in a low tone, her hands were clearing of the substance and were turning pink and raw from the harsh rubbing.
She looked away from her hands and stared into her reflection in the mirror. What glared back was a grimy, messy woman, who looked like she'd topple by being hit with a feather. She took a step back in shock. The last time Nat had seen the fragile, broken version of herself, it had been when she was taken in by SHIELD and the kindness of strangers broke her.
She exhaled softly, her breath shaky as it passed through her lips.
Steve and Clint sped through the hallways and corridors until they found an elevator. Steve's mind finally took control again and it was racing faster than his heartbeat. Clint pressed the button and they waited, Steve agitated and impatient, and Clint nervous. The doors slid open and they waited for the people to exit before getting in themselves and pressing the button for the ground floor.
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.