Chapter 11
Natasha smoothed her hair into a ponytail and watched Dr. Smint reinsert the teen’s IV. The room looked nearly identical to the first makeshift one. Tony's people had somehow transformed a spare office into a state of the art hospital in minutes.
"How are his stitches?" Bruce entered the newly minted hospital room and glanced over the prone teen with a critical eye and frown. The deep lines of pain around the kid’s mouth slowly smoothed out with the reintroduction of painkillers.
She remembered the kid clinging to his kidnapper like a koala, unconsciously clutching at the man even in the middle of a battle. It spoke of a familiarity she knew well. Even when Natasha couldn't think straight she knew who she could rely on to stay safe.
And he trusted those two men with his life.
Nightwing leaned against the far wall with relaxed muscles and a friendly look on his face; the total antithesis of the man in the leather jacket. The blue splash of color on his chest stood out starkly against an ocean of black.
Bruce’s gaze caught and stumbled over the intruding figure and he froze before glancing at Natasha. She raised her eyebrows and gave a tight smile. "Oh."
"His stitches are fine,” she said shortly as the doctor carefully un-wrapped neatly tied bandages. Natasha's fingers dug painfully into her arms at the sight of the bleeding wound in the center of his palm.
The doctor winced and Bruce blanched at the sight.
"What-"
She cut her friend off with a look and studied the fourth person in the room. He watched them all with unabashed curiosity and held the teen's medical chart. He'd flipped through it twice since they'd arrived.
Nightwing looked like he could be a frat boy dressing up for Halloween, but she knew better.
He paused, cocked his head, and grunted as if listening to someone. From where she stood, Natasha couldn't see the earpiece he wore. He made another noise, something between assent and confusion, before shaking his head and studying the chart once more.
Her fist flexed and she itched to punch someone, anyone.
"Hey," Bruce interrupted quietly. He moved close enough for her to see the wrinkles in his shirt and the beginning of stubble on his chin. Natasha split her attention between the Avenger and Nightwing. "This is good. Right? He’s going to be fine. It's good."
The former assassin glanced over the prone teen and swallowed. Trust Bruce to find the silver lining. She purposefully uncurled her fingers.
The masked man meandered closer to the bed and she vaguely wondered how he managed to slip into such a form fitting suit. It appeared tighter than even her own.
"Jesus, kid." Nightwing dumped the clipboard on a chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. Besides dark hair and pale skin, all three of their guests bore the same strangely flat accent.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off the kid's face; his other hand discreetly took the teen’s pulse. The man’s back bowed and he squeezed the patient’s wrist. Whether the comfort was for him or the unconscious teen, she was unsure.
"Family?" Bruce asked with a clear voice. He moved close to the bed and stuck his hands into his rumpled jean pockets. Of course he picked up on it immediately; Bruce understood people.
"It's better if I say nothing." The man chuckled self depreciatingly. "I'm already going to be in enough trouble as it is."
Bruce scratched at his chin and picked up the recently discarded chart; he glanced at it before observing the stranger with knowing eyes. "And why is that?"
Nightwing smiled painfully. "Oh, you know, the usual."
The usual? She grinned disarmingly back at him. “Don’t worry about it. I have that effect on a lot of people. We don’t have to tell Bruce.”
She stepped closer.
"Tell me what?" Bruce inquired.
"No, not you." Natasha cocked a hip. "I'm talking about a different Bruce, I'm sure you must know him?"
"Er..." Nightwing’s body language remained suspiciously relaxed and he shook his head with a smile. She would bet her life his eyes widened comically behind his mask. "Nope, no Bruces. I do know a couple of Brendas? And a Bert? Does that help?"
Liar.
"Right," Natasha responded dryly.
"Excuse me," Doctor Smint interrupted from the corner. He frowned at them disapprovingly. "I'm going to need some space to work on his hand.”
“Of course,” Bruce readily agreed. “I’ll send in the nurse.”
“Right," Nightwing added with a sigh. “Can I stay?”
Over her dead body. She would rather do Clint’s laundry for a year then let him stay with the teen unsupervised.
“How about we go grab a quick coffee,” Bruce interjected carefully. “This room is going to be cramped with nurses and equipment. I’m going to guess you did a fair bit of traveling and worrying in the last twenty four hours?”
“You could say that.” He leaned in, tucked the blanket more firmly around the kid, and clicked on the bedside light. “I won’t be far, Red. You just concentrate on feeling better.”
First Replacement, now Red? Code names? Nick names? Either way, she could work with it.
“C’mon Nat,” Bruce cajoled when she made no move to follow them out. “Smint needs space and we should check in with Tony to see what’s happening outside.”
Dr. Smint huffed in annoyance at their slow departure.
No part of her wanted to leave the teen alone; not with two unknowns in the building and a mess outside. She pulled out her phone and texted Tony for additional security.
“Sounds like the assassins have withdrawn for now.” Nightwing stated as the door shut behind them. He eyed the solid wood with a frown. “Captain America is keeping Red Hood company, which I'm sorry if he says something awkward? He can be ..." He didn't finish the sentence. "And your crew...” He made a hand motion, “I guess they're doing whatever it is they do.”
“Thanks," Bruce responded before the words sunk in. “Assassins?”
“But coffee sounds great.” He reached up to clap Bruce on the shoulder and ignored the question. “We won’t be too far?”
“Er…” Bruce stumbled at the wheedling tone. “Nat?”
“Take him for coffee on floor five.” No way could he meander around the Avengers’ main level. Let him lounge in the building's cafeteria for an hour while her team reassembled. “Then the two of you can come back up and wait in Maxine’s office for Smint to finish. I'll let him know. We'll have Steve bring your friend up."
“Awesome.” Nightwing raised his hand to give her a high five. She stepped back and he changed it to a thumb’s up instead.
“I’ve got to check on a few things." She needed to touch base with everyone. In the last hour everything had changed, again.
“Alright.” Bruce nodded his head at the ‘hand off’. Natasha trusted him to keep an eye on their friendly guest. Nightwing bounced next to him after giving the shut door one more look.
“You’re Hulk, right?” She heard him ask as they walked away. “How exactly do you keep your pants on after you’ve transformed?”
Right. Not her problem.
She pulled out her phone.
“Yo.” Clint answered in a clipped tone.
“Meet me upstairs?”
“Righto.”