bulletproof

4

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.