Natasha walked into the tower's common room stiffly and dropped her duffle bag by the door. Her eyes were a dull green without their usual mischievous glimmer and her exhaustion showed on her face. She had a cut on her cheek, she was fairly certain she had at least 3 cracked ribs, and she'd already had to pop her left shoulder back into its socket. She expected to be the only one awake in the tower considering it was late and she had essentially dropped off the grid for the duration of the time it took for them to complete their mission, opting to not call or check in with anyone, which meant no one knew when she would be home. She knew that was a dick move on her part, especially considering how worried Clint had been and the fact that she'd promised she would talk to him, but she'd had to bury any emotions she might have felt in favor of remaining effective as an agent. Talking to Clint, or any of the others for that matter, would have just brought too much to the surface that would have risked compromising her.

Clint hadn't been sleeping well in the 2 and a half weeks since Nat had left and started ignoring any calls and texts from the team. His sleep schedule consisted of puttering around the tower until about 2am and then drinking enough scotch to get him feeling drowsy so he could sleep for a couple hours before getting up for the day. He'd reached the scotch portion of his nighttime routine and was standing in the kitchen, his back against the counter, the glass in his hand, when the door opened and Nat slipped in. He relaxed almost immediately at the sight of her alive and breathing. She jumped a little when she finally noticed him, pushing her right hand through her curls and sighing softly.

"Don't lurk like that, Clint. You know I hate it," she spoke in a flat monotone.

Clint frowned as he took a moment to really look at her. She was holding herself stiffly, she hadn't noticed him the second she walked in, and he hadn't seen her move her left arm from its position cradled against her side once since she'd walked in. She wore a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt that was much too big for her, and her eyes were dull with dark circles underneath them. In short, she looked like hell. He had expected nothing less.

"I'm hardly lurking, Nat. The lights are on and I have no reason to hide from you," he responded in a frank tone as she made her way slowly around the counter into the kitchen. She reached to take a glass down from the shelf, wincing slightly at the extension, he assumed as a result of an injury he couldn't see. He moved behind her silently and got the glass down for her, setting it on the counter in silence.

She nodded once in silent gratitude as she took the bottle of scotch and splashed a small amount into her glass. Clint watched her intently. Natasha Romanoff was not one for scotch. She usually opted for just about anything else when that was what he was drinking. But, nonetheless, she took the glass and drank from it with no reaction.

Clint had promised himself that he would stay silent until she chose to initiate a conversation, but the longer he watched her, the more concerned he was. "Nat," he said gently, "have you had a medical check yet?" He knew she hadn't, but asking was always safer than trying to tell her that she needed to go to the med bay.

She let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. "I'm just going to sleep it off," she said, looking at the liquid in her glass rather than at him.

That was a load of bullshit if Clint had ever heard one. They both knew damn well that she wouldn't be sleeping at all for a couple of days and she wouldn't be sleeping normally again for several months.

"Tasha, you'll feel better if you let them fix you up. Come on. I'll go with you. Let's just get it over with." He was careful to keep his tone from sounding too patronizing. That would just piss her off and then she would never get checked out.

Nat finished off her scotch as she weighed the annoyance and inconvenience of letting a doctor check her out versus the guilt and irritation of arguing with Clint before finally nodding and setting her empty glass in the sink. He looked relieved almost immediately as he pulled out his phone and texted Dr. Cho to let her know they were coming. She didn't protest when he shouldered her duffle bag for her or even when he led her over to the elevator and hit the button to go down instead of taking the stairs like she always opted to. They waited for the elevator in tense silence, neither of them sure what to say to the other. They were both relieved when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. They stepped in and rode down to the medical facility. Nat was relieved when Dr. Cho was the one waiting for her.

Helen smiled politely. "Make yourself comfortable on that bed right over there. I'll be with you in just a minute, Agent Romanoff."

Natasha nodded and followed instructions, sitting on the edge of the bed apprehensively. Clint sat in the chair next to the bed, taking in her tense posture and knowing he was about to become a lot more concerned than he already was.