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He took it for me.

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Natasha POV.

 

There aren't that many situations I can't handle. I can kill someone with my hands bound behind my back while I'm blind folded. I can seduce someone without even trying. Before I met him, I thought I was unbreakable. Nothing could bring me down. I was Russia's best assassin and I believed it. The red room trains you for situations you can’t handle so that, in the end of the program, you can handle them.

That was until Agent Barton was send to kill me. He made a different call. I owe him a depth, I keep telling myself. He took me to America and introduced me to SHIELD. They weren't enthusiastic about the idea of me being his partner. Thank god, well is there one? Well you know what I mean. I really appreciate it, thanks to him I'm still alive. He took me in and showed me a respect I never had experienced before meeting this strange man with the bow and arrow. I saw men cowering at the sight of me but no one looked me right in the eye and showed me respect. That later turned into mutual respect.

But now here it is. The one situation I really can't handle. That stupid man got himself shot. The gun was pointed at me, and only me. I know, nice job Natasha. You got yourself into a room with people who want to kill you. But that's not important right now. Clint pushed me aside and took the bullet himself. I really don't know what the hell he was thinking but he saved my life once again. I was so sure I was done, that the bullet would make an end to the oh so great Black Widow. But no Hawkeye still comes in to save the day. When he wakes up we’ll have to talk about this behavior of saving me. Yeah, we need to. When he wakes up. He always wakes up. Always.

I would never doubt his ability to be stubborn to die. But the longer I wait here in this SHIELD hospital with nurses running around, I begin to wonder. Worry is slowly seeping its ways into the cracks of my tough demeanor.

So now here I am, sitting in a chair in a hospital. I'm waiting, waiting to hear the news that he's gone. The news that I'm never going to see him smile again or the news that he’ll be smiling for a long, long time. The news that he won't comfort me anymore when I can't sleep because all of the nightmares of my past who keep haunting me. Or the news that I can always cuddle up to him with fear present in my eyes.

If I wasn't Natasha Romanoff, if I wasn't The Black Widow, I think I would be crumbling to the ground like a child. Crying and broken on the floor. But I am Natasha Romanoff, I am the Black Widow. So I'm sitting in a hospital chair waiting for my Hawkeye to wake up.

Softly stroking his hand, I'm just telling stories about Budapest, Rome and Russia. All of the missions we went on as partners. People once told me it worked, if you talked to people who were in a coma. I do not really believe that but I want it too. Again the bastard is too stubborn to follow any rules so he might as well hear me. But here I am ,being Natasha Romanoff and all, still waiting for the news that I won't be an actual widow.