A/N: I'm extremely happy that you guys enjoyed the story. I tried to reply to some of the reviews but for some reason it isn't allowing me to so just know that I read each one and thank you all for the support! As promised, here is the follow up to when Clint wakes up.

Natasha doesn't jump, but looks up in surprise as an apple lands in her lap. Steve stands in the doorway, clearly having tossed it to her. He takes a bite out of his own granny apple as he leans against the doorframe. "Figured you could use some food, since you're so keen to forget to take care of yourself," he states around the bite he took.

She rolls her eyes and picks up the apple, placing it on Clint's bedside table. "I haven't eaten because I'm not hungry. I merely decided that I want to be here when Agent Barton wakes up," she replies with a brisk tone.

"You want to be the first thing he sees, is that it?" Steve gets the wrong idea and mistakenly asks her with a smile.

Natasha turns with a stern expression and crosses her arms over her chest. "It has nothing to do with wanting to be the first person he sees Captain, it has to do with me smacking some sense in to him the minute his eyes open," she corrects.

Steve looks at Clint in the bed, still unconscious but taking on a healthier skin colour. "Don't you think the poor guy has suffered enough?" he asks, tossing out the apple core in the small trash bin by his foot.

"He's been the one under heavy sedation while I've sat here waiting for him to wake up. I think the past few days have been more dreary for me than for him," she retorts, her head turning to resume watch over her partner.

"You're worried about him," Steve muses, noting the flicker of concern that she doesn't realize slips in to her gaze.

"Worry is an emotion I haven't felt in years Captain. If anyone is going to kill Clint Barton, it will be me, not some freak accident. And I want to make that perfectly clear to him. My debt has yet to be paid," her voice is calm but Steve still fights back a shiver at the menacing tone.

"Debt?" his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"That is a story for another day. Now, aside from telling me what you think is going on with me, was there something else you needed?" she asks, really just wanting to be left alone to monitor Clint in peace.

"No Ma'am just thought you'd be hungry. And, we do need our marksman so please don't hurt him too bad. I'll be in the training room if anyone needs me," he gives her a quick two finger salute and walks out the door, hands clasped behind his back.

Natasha watches him for a brief moment before her stomach rumbles uncontrollably. Now that he was out of sight, her hand shoots out and picks up the apple, biting a gaping piece off the side. "Stupid soldier," she mutters, annoyed that he could tell she needed nourishment.

She wasn't about to admit that a sickly feeling had been eating away at her since she discovered Clint's condition. Something about seeing him lying useless in a bed hurt her more than she would care to say. Clint was the one that had always appeared as an unstoppable force in a way. He could kill a man with an arrow from a distance that shouldn't be possible. He had always offered her backup, even when she fought against it, because he wanted to make sure that his partner made it back to base after every mission. She had done everything in her power to try and wipe the red from her ledger but nothing she did felt good enough to consider themselves even. Clint had told her numerous occasions that they were beyond even and that if anything, he was now indebted to her, but she remained stubborn on the matter. The least she could do now is keep a close watch on him to ensure that the doctors don't disturb him with their poking and prodding.

A few hours later, the noise from the heart monitor begins speeding up, forcing her eyes to dart to him instead of the book in her lap. She feels her own heart begin to race as she sees his eyes wide open in panic, peering around the room. The feeding tube down his throat prevents him from being able to breathe comfortably and he begins to choke. "Doctor!" Natasha yells, getting to her feet. The book falls to the floor with a thud, which startles him even more.

"Clint, calm down! It's Tasha, I need you to relax okay?" she presses her hands on his arms to hold him to the bed. In his frightened state, she completely forgets the anger that she was planning on scolding him with.

She can tell that he doesn't understand where he is. She figures that the disorientation from the sedatives probably reminds him of what it was like to come to his senses after Loki's mind control. Seconds later, she is joined by two of the medical staff members that try to soothe their anxious patient. "Agent Barton, you are in the medical wing on base. We're going to need you to calm down or you're going to cause the feeding tube to agitate your throat. I don't want to sedate you again now that you've just woken up. Do you understand?" the doctor tries to flash a penlight in Clint's eyes but he can't get him to look straight ahead.

The wounded agent's gaze locks on his partner and she is instantly reminded of the dazed look of confusion he gave her after she jostled him back to reality during their fight. His hand locates her and grips tightly, practically cutting off the circulation. "Clint, you're going to be okay," she repeats the words she had told him what seems like so long ago.

"Agent Romanoff if you can just stay by him while I remove the feeding tube that would be a great help. I need someone to keep his attention," the doctor puts on a pair of gloves and steps forward while the nurse holds Barton's legs down so he doesn't kick out.

Clint shows his discomfort as the feeding tube is slowly pulled from his mouth, gagging and sputtering until the doctor completely dislodges it. "T-tash…a..." his voice is croaky and hoarse, so unlike his usual sound.

"Clint don't speak, you'll make it worse. I'll get you water, just stay still and be quiet," she orders him.

Once she's positive that he'll behave while the doctor inspects him, she steps away to the table by the door, pouring a glass of water for him. She waits there until the doctor approaches, then she puts her arm out to stop him from leaving. "What's the verdict?" she asks, her voice taking on her professional tone.

The man casts a look back at his patient, whose eyes are screwed shut as the dull throb of the pain becomes more intense as the medication wears off. "He's worked himself in to a panic but he should be alright. Just keep him calm and try your best to stop him from talking. The vocal cords took a little bit of damage from the bullet and the feeding tube will have agitated his throat so I want to keep him quiet in order for the damage to heal quickly. Can you make sure he's silent?" he asks her, knowing that after the amount of days she's been there, she isn't likely to leave now.

Natasha gives him a brief nod and then smirks lightly as the doctor leaves with the nurse. "No talking huh? That'll make this much easier," she mutters under her breath.

She approaches the bed with a blank face. Her hands go to her hips. Her eyes get a flicker of something that Clint doesn't want to see right now. Even with the distraction of pain, he recognizes that flicker and he holds his hands up in surrender. "Tash-" he tries to croak out before she holds up a finger to silence him.

"Doctor's orders Barton, no talking. Which means I want you to sit there, shut up and listen closely. Understood?" she asks, lowering her hand and stepping closer.

Clint shuts his mouth and breathes deeply, awaiting the storm he knows is about to wash over him. "Do you know what I've been doing for the past few days Clint? I've been sitting here. Right in this chair next to your bed, waiting for you to wake up. Why have I been sitting here Clint?" she asks.

He opens his mouth to speak. "It was rhetorical, I said shut up and don't speak," she interrupts him before he can make a sound.

"I've been sitting here because you went and nearly got yourself killed because you and Rogers got cocky and were being careless. You were the one who trained me to always keep my eyes open and then you go and neglect your own rule. How could you be so stupid, Clint?" she hisses, marching up to his bed so she's staring down at him intensely.

"I thought you said you'd be careful? You-you promised me you would be after what Loki did to you!" she hates that she chokes during the sentence. She doesn't know when tears began to sting at her eyes but she straightens up and looks away from him.

She feels his hand tentatively reach for hers and she growls, yanking her hand out of reach. The two rarely resorted to physical contact as a form of comfort and in her rage with him, she certainly didn't want it now. Particularly because it would make her anger disappear. "No! You can't expect me to calm down Clint! Remember what happened in Georgia? When I got stabbed and you thought I was going to die? Remember how we promised each other that we wouldn't ever leave each other because we're all we have? You almost broke that promise, Clint. And I'm not ready to just let that go. I've already spoken to Fury. You're on desk work until I'm sure that you won't be an idiot in the field again. I refuse to lose my partner. I'll die first," she doesn't realize that her fists have balled up at her sides.

"Natasha?" a new voice enters the room.

She whips around and Steve is standing there, looking like a bull fighter trying to calm the animal. "Maybe you should take a break. I'll stay with him. Just get some sleep or something. It's okay," he tries to reason with her.

He grabs a tissue from the Kleenex box on the bedside table and hands it across to her. She takes it unwillingly, confused as to why he's giving it to her. Without a word, he mimes dabbing at his eyes and it's then she realizes that she had begun to cry during her rant. Paling at the fact she had shown emotion in front of not only Clint, but Steve as well, she storms from the room after delivering a swift kick angrily to Clint's bed, jostling him uncomfortably and making him groan.

Going to the only place she knows she can calm down, she retreats to the training room with her eyes to the floor. In the women's change rooms, she pulls on S.H.I.E.L.D. standard training clothes- which are essentially just a tank top and jogging pants- and sets up a dummy to work with.

Her fighting is all over the place. Punches she'd normally land hard enough to break a bone were glancing off the dummy. She grits her teeth and tries to focus, kicking it hard enough to knock it over. The only sounds in the room are her fists and feet hitting leather, and the growls and grunts she makes while she's fighting.

She doesn't notice that Steve followed her and is watching from the shadows by the corner. His arms are folded across his chest and he feels sympathy for both assassins. Clint had pointed after Natasha when she fled the room, ordering Steve to go and check on her. Both are more concerned for the other, but they've been trained to be emotionless.

"He's going to be alright, you know," Captain America's deep voice stops her in her tracks.

She pants and stops fighting, peering in his direction. "I don't believe I asked for company, Captain," she hisses in response, furious at being spied on in her frazzled, distracted mood.

"You know it isn't bad to show feelings every now and then. Even soldiers cry," he walks a few more steps forward but keeps distance between them.

"I'm not a soldier, Rogers! I've spent most of my life killing people that I'm told to. Spies aren't supposed to cry. And I don't know if you've noticed but up until recently, I've been very good at keeping myself in check!" she snaps.

"Then maybe it's time that you stop being a spy and start being a human being. You're a smart woman Natasha; you know why you're upset. Agent Barton is a close friend to you; it's understandable that you're upset over this. But you can't it out on him for something that he couldn't prevent," Steve tucks his hands in his pockets.

"You have no idea about the history Clint and I have together!" she yells, her voice echoing off of the walls.

"You're right, I don't but right now my teammate is lying in a hospital bed needing his best friend right now, while she walked out on him because she can't handle emotions!" the Captain yells in return, not backing down anymore.

She gives him a shove but he doesn't fight back. "This isn't going to be a repeat of the other day Natasha," he says, dodging another blow with a quick turn of his body.

She backs him into a corner, throwing punches as quickly as she can. "You can fight me all day but it isn't going to change the fact that he got shot," he says, grabbing her arms to stop her.

She tries to wiggle her arms free but the soldier is strong and holds her in place. "You said that you two were partners and you swore to protect each other. Why aren't you protecting him now?" he asks her as she breathes heavily.

"Protect him from what?" she snaps in his face.

"From being alone right now!" he pushes her away from him.

Steve shakes his head as he walks away. "You're not alone anymore Agent Romanoff, maybe it's time you realize that," he calls back to her.

The door slams shut behind him and she presses her back against the wall, sliding down so she's sitting. She doesn't want to listen to him. She squeezes her eyes shut and grabs fistfuls of hair. Flashes of her time with Clint pass in her head. Budapest. Georgia. London. Spain. The final battle with Loki. All of her memories of them consisted of the two protecting each other. The damn soldier was right, as much as she hated to admit it.

"Son of a bitch," she mutters, pushing herself to her feet to head to the shower so she can wash the sweat and salty tears from her skin.

She can tell that Clint is still wary of her when she re-enters his room. His eyes lock on hers from the moment she appears outside of his door until she comes to stand next to his bed. The two have a stare down, one quiet because he can't speak, and the other quiet because she doesn't know what to say. "You know why I'm upset Clint," she says bluntly, her voice no longer angry.

He tries to nod but it only aggravates the wound and he winces. "Don't move. If you have a yes or no response, just blink. Once for yes, twice for no. So, you know why I'm upset?" she repeats.

He blinks once. Not wanting to be overheard for the rest of the conversation, she goes over to the door and shuts it. "Then you know why I acted the way I did," she turns to look at him, seeing him blink once more.

She takes a seat on one side of his bed, fighting with herself over what to do. Steve made it sound so easy to let go but she just didn't know how to. She settles for awkwardly holding Clint's hand but she lets go when she feels something against his palm. The folded slip of paper drops to the bed and he nudges it closer to her hand. She glances at him before picking up the note and opening it. In his familiar messy scrawl, the words on the page make a small smile appear on her face.

They can't make me leave you that easily, Tasha.

She looks away for a moment, pocketing the piece of paper. She should have known that he wouldn't take her ranting personally. He had always let her vent her anger and then act like she hadn't yelled. "That's good Agent Barton, because I'm not ready to give up my partner just yet."

Clint cracks a thin smile, trying not to stretch any skin too much. He grabs her hand again and feels his eyes getting droopy, the new bag of morphine beginning to take effect. She stays there while he sleeps, holding his hand and finally feeling herself relaxing slightly for the first time in days. Although, she does shoot a glare and her middle finger in Steve's direction when he appears in the window by the door with a smug expression.

For the duration of the week, the Black Widow and Captain America take turns watching over the fallen Hawk, helping him eat and drink, and just keeping him company so he doesn't get too stir crazy. By the time he is released, he is able to talk in small durations, still exercising caution so he doesn't completely ruin his vocal cords. However, by the tenth day out of the infirmary Clint finds himself getting anxious when Natasha still refuses to allow him to train or do anything she deems too strenuous for his neck.

"Getting bored," his voice is hoarse as he speaks in an exasperated tone.

"Are you? Good, then you can work on these for me," she drops another stack of files on his desk on her way past him.

"Not what I meant," he frowns, poking at the stack of manila folders.

"No complaints Barton, you heard the doctor," she falls in to her own chair, overviewing a new case.

"Doctor cleared me for archery practice two days ago," he argues, fingers itching at the bandage on his neck.

"Sorry but I haven't given you the okay yet, which is the more important medical clearance," she retorts dryly.

He rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, pushing his chair back and leaving the room. "Work isn't done!" she calls after him without looking up.

"Get Wonder Boy to do it!" he yells back, keeping his face forward as he walks away.

Steve looks around the room, noting that it was only the three of them occupying the space. "Wonder Boy? What the hell did I do?" he asks, frowning at Natasha.

"Ignore him, I'll deal with it," she sighs, dropping her pen and getting to her feet.

She finds him two floors up, staring out of a large bay window. "What's the problem Clint?" she asks, crossing her arms as she joins him.

"I'm not a child Natasha; in fact I've been at this a lot longer than you. I don't appreciate being treated like a child," he frowns, clearing his throat slightly.

"I'm not treating you like a child, I'm making you suffer the consequences of being shot. If I remember correctly, you were the one that refused to even let me train a month after I had been released from the med bay," she retaliates. "I had to sneak in training sessions while you were asleep."

He huffs and turns away from her, leaning against the glass. "It's not like we're keeping you here forever you know. It's just until we're positive that your actions won't be harmful to yourself while you're fighting," she tries to reason with him, nudging his elbow as she comes up next to him.

"How am I supposed to work on my aim?" he asks, looking at her with an un-amused face.

"I suggest flicking small paper triangles through Rogers' fingers while he pretends to be football goal posts," she replies sarcastically with a small smirk.

"Very funny. I'm going crazy being cooped up," he stops speaking for a second to cough. "At least let me do something other than paperwork Tasha," it isn't often that Hawkeye pleads with the Black Widow, but being confined to desk work was driving him crazy.

Her expression changes and she moves a bit closer. "I have something for you that'll keep you busy," she says, her voice much softer.

Clint looks down at her, his thoughts changing. "Tasha?" he asks, watching as she retracts a key from her pocket.

She dangles it at eye level for him before dropping it in his hand. "I think you'll find that this will lead to hours of being occupied," she pats his cheek tauntingly.

He raises an eyebrow and a confused look flashes across his face. "Tasha, I'm flattered but don't you think we should discuss something like that first? I mean, we do work together and it may complicate things," he's unsure of the sudden change in where the conversation was going.

She snorts and turns away, walking back towards the door. "If you aren't fit for combat, you sure as hell aren't fit enough to handle that with me. That's a key to my gun locker, not my room. My pistols and rifles need to be cleaned so make good use of your time and get to that. I have work to do on my next case and you're my bitch until Fury and I decide you're okay to train again," she throws a grin over her shoulder at him, stalking out of the room.

He glares at her as she retreats and he slumps down on one of the nearby couches. Clint drops the key on the coffee table and props his feet up, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans his head back against the couch. "She's so getting her ass kicked when I'm cleared to fight," he mutters, closing his eyes to rest.

A/N: End of this story folks! Thanks again for the support! I'll be writing more Avengers fics when I think of some good plot ideas. I'll mainly be focusing on Black Widow and/or Hawkeye because those two are my favourites.

I do take prompts so if anyone has any ideas about what they would like to see, feel free to leave it in a review and I will do my best to make a story to fit what you want.