bulletproof

5

The trio stared at one another before getting up from the table and going to look for a map of the hospital, so they could find Y/N's room. Not a word was shared between them as they walked down the white hallways, looking out of place with their grit and blood covered suits. Bruce would have been okay had it not been for the knees of his pants, his hands, and cuffs of his shirt to be stained with Y/N's blood. Nat's stomach convulsed as she eyed the stains and she directed her gaze back to straight ahead.

Sam caught her look, and the quickening of her breath, and gritting of her teeth. He had been through those symptoms when he went to see Riley and found out that he didn't make it.

Bruce chewed the inside of his cheek as they turned the corner then stopped. They found a map, mounted up on the wall for all to see, along with a plaque with Stark's name engraved on it, thanking him for the generous donations to the ward. Nat's sharp eyes caught the name of the ward and her eyebrows shot up.

They found it.

She shared a look with the two men, her heart leaping almost out of her chest as she thought of the possibility of seeing Y/N again, not bleeding her life out on the floor of the base or jet.

As she stepped forward, a nurse walked passed, wheeling a tray with surgical utensils instruments laying in order, and Nat looked at them, her eyes widening with terror as flashbacks from the Red Room came to the forefront of her brain, moving in and out of focus like a slideshow. She grasped onto Sam's arm, her grip tight, eliciting a wince from her friend and she began breathing shallowly, her eyes moving up and down, side to side, in their sockets, showing the start of a panic attack.

She began murmuring in Russian, fear coursing through her veins. Bruce jumped in front of her and placed both hands on her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes and repeating her name until she came around, calm and soothing.

As she broke out of her trance, she stumbled forward into Bruce's arms and let slip a tear, her arms wrapped around his waist. Visitors of other patients stared curiously at the three, some scowling at the disruption of solemn silence and some giving them looks of pity and sympathy.

Nat untangled herself from Bruce and moved past, briskly. She counted the doors until they reached 19B. Outside the room was a row of chairs placed by and facing the door. Sam sat just by the door and Bruce went beside him. The ex-assassin went to a seat facing it, glaring at the other visitors who kept staring, daring them to continue.

And they sat there, waiting for the others to return or for Y/N to come out of surgery.

Tony sat at the cockpit, manning the jet and flying it straight to the compound with a concentration that couldn't be broken. Steve sat on one of the benches lined across the wall of one of the sides of the jet, staring at the spot where Y/N had been only an hour before. The pool of blood that had been damp when they'd left had dried in a sticky patch and his stomach turned like a washing machine as he thought back to when he was holding her in his arms as she bled out on him and the floor.

As he recalled her admittance to her feelings, his lips tingled, he could still feel the kiss they had shared.

He was angry that it took her almost dying for him to admit his feelings for her and he had the feeling of wanting to hit something again.

Clint looked across the jet to his captain, sympathy flooding through him as he watched Steve wrestle with himself on the inside.

"She's going to live..." he said, not to anyone in particular...maybe to console himself, or maybe to console Steve, "It's Y/N! She always finds a way..." he swallowed back an onslaught of fresh sadness at the end and then, as tears sprang from his eyes, he let out a low chuckle, "Remember when she insisted we made dinner one night?"

Steve looked up at Clint and his face broke into a smile as he looked back onto that day, "When we burnt the chicken and she screamed at us?"

"And then apologised and made us all cookies, cards and dinner because she felt so bad?"

Steve laughed, "I still have that card somewhere...she put the cheesiest pickup line she could find for that."

Clint stopped for a moment and rushed to where they had left some spare clothes in case they needed to abort the mission and meld into society. He rummaged through a pack and pulled out a small notebook with triumph.

"She always made sure she had a notebook of photos and memories in case we had to hide and one of us somehow lost our memories in the process." Clint grinned as he handed Steve the notebook, "Especially you...she'd always say that one day you'd jump from the jet without a parachute and land on your head."

Steve wiped at his eyes and took the notebook, opening it and snorting immediately at the miniature snarky writing from her to him. He flipped through a couple more pages, finding she'd written a message for each member of the team and then pages upon pages of photographs, all dated and organized in some sort of timeline.

Tony turned over and signified that they were landing, just before the jet rattled and juggled them inside.

Steve hastily shoved the notebook back into the pack and zipped it back up as Clint opened the door and brought sunlight into the jet.

They marched out, into the compound and headed to their separate rooms to change into some cleaner and more comfortable clothing, before meeting back up in the main conference room to report back to Fury.