Injury
It had been going fine. A simple recovery mission. At first Natasha couldn't see why they needed half the avengers for it. But it wasn't her call, so she bit her tongue and took her place besides Tony. The hum of the plane was low enough they could talk and Steve wasn't going to waste a minute of planning time.
"Is everyone clear?" He asked. She nodded silently, fingers lacing and unpacking her bootstraps. It was a habit she'd picked up a while back and harmless enough she didn't bother trying to shake it. Clint had opened his mouth to reassure Steve they all understood the plan when a flying plastic water bottle smacked Steve in the side of the face.
"Hey-! Tony what was that for!" The supersoldier cried indignantly. Tony laughed, an infectious joy that had Clint and Natasha also chuckling. "We all know the plan half to death cap. Give it a rest for a bit yeah?"
Steve rolled his eyes. "You can never be too prepared-"
"I'll be of no use to anyone if you bore me to death before we even land."
Steve sighed but smiled. "Your attention span is worrying Stark."
Tony mimicked him mockingly before stretching out in his chair. "Anyone got any interesting plans for after this?" He asked.
Clint eyed Natasha, knowing they had a movie marathon planned and knowing just as well that she wouldn't want Tony joining them for the entirety of Pitch Perfect. "I'm planning on going out for dinner with a friend. Anything to escape Thor's cooking." Clint replied, grinning. She shot him a grateful look before angling herself to face Tony.
"I might get my nails redone, or see if I can find a good cocktail night somewhere."
"Let me rephrase my question, who's doing something interesting that I can join in on?" Tony asked, amusement clear on his face. "Pepper has officially kicked me out of the lab for a night. I'm practically homeless."
"That's not how I'd phrase it. You're not homeless, you're just dramatic." Clint teased.
"I've got no plans." Steve said. "I'm sure we could work something out to do." He continued.
Tony dramatically groaned, mouthing a plea for help to Natasha. She promptly ignored him, forcing him to turn back to Steve.
They did this semi-regularly. They'd agree to hang out and then bicker about what to do for the better part of an hour. Natasha tuned them out for the most part, and in between chatting with Barton and her own thoughts the time flew by.
And that took her to now. Half way through the mission and half way through the fight. The building had taken some damage and the left wing was collapsing on itself. Unfortunately that also meant collapsing on to her. Clints voice came through tinnily, the ear piece damaged or losing connection fast. "Natasha? Where are you?"
She didn't waste time with a reply. She'd see him soon enough. She managed to take out a few guards as she dashed through the rubble and cracks spreading through the floor. For a moment everything went silent before the shockwave sent her reeling backwards. Whatever had just blown up had left her with ringing ears and a bleeding head injury. Her fingers gripped the rough concrete of the wall. In the distance she watched Steve stumble upright and yank his shield from where it was buried in the floor.
He continued moving. She was standing there trying to force her head to clear and stomach to settle. For a split second the redhead was grateful he hadn't seen her like this. With a deep breath she kept moving, she'd secured everything she needed. All the necessary information from this buried in a USB in her pocket. The dust was clearing a little and she quickened her pace. The man that jumped out at her slowed her only barely, the time it took to tase him was just long enough for her to be buried under a fallen beam.
Now she cried out, holding down her ear piece to explain the situation to the others. Instead she made a garbled sound and fought to remain conscious. The sharp pain from her back radiated along her. Pressed to the floor and unable to move if she tried Natasha attempted to focus on anything. Anything to stay awake. The last thing she felt was the tingling in her fingers and toes, a static that felt like a warning.
The light was bright and hurting her eyes. She blinked, screwing up her face. Whispered voices surrounded her, a woman talking to a familiar man about her. Another familiar voice speaking with a stranger, agreeing. As she blinked her eyes open again she could see Clint, talking to a Doctor in pink glasses. Ignoring the warning aches from her neck she turned to see Steve sitting on a hospital bed as he was checked over by a nurse.
"Morning sleepy." Clint smiled. He seemed calm enough but she could read the dark circles of worry under his eyes. Breathing was harder than she'd like but she forced herself to calm down, to open her mouth and speak. "What happened? Is everyone okay?"
Clint nodded. "You were the unlucky one. Steve and you both got trapped under the rubble as it collapsed, but he's come off mostly scot free."
"I don't know what they put into the serum but it sure does work." The blonde man said.
"You however- I'm sorry Tasha, I should've been with you. Made sure you got out safe." Clint continued.
"Apologise later Barton, I just want to know what happened." She asked, smiling as best her tired face could manage.
And so Clint explained, with the help of the Doctor. It was bad. Spinal surgery kind of bad. Months off healing kind of bad. Even with the insane level of medical care SHIELD and Stark could provide it would be at least three months until she was near back to normal. The doctor kept talking about how lucky she was, how she should make a full recovery. How it's a miracle she only was injured here and not there, how it was so lucky they got to her when they did.
Outwardly she replied in all the ways she was supposed to. She was shocked, she was grateful and horrified and asking all the right questions. Carefully avoiding Barton's gaze lest he see through her mask. Lest he saw how all she could see and hear was Steve's attempt at a joke - how wonderful the serum was. How she was now useless, for months. He could go back to work tomorrow, he was entirely fine and she was laying here barely able to move from the pain meds flowing through.
The thoughts that had been humming quietly were dragged to the forefront of her mind. Half loopy on pain meds and not in front of cameras she didn't need to bury them. She couldn't bury them in a bottle of wine right now. Instead she could wonder if maybe she was out of her depth, dragging her team down. How she'd be off work for months and couldn't decide whether them struggling without her or doing fine without her was worse. Would she rather be needed and put them in danger with not being there? Or would she rather not matter, have them do fine without her?
She let the thoughts bury her, filling her lungs and mouth and ears like being buried in sand. The talk of treatment plans and physio washing over her. All she could see was Steve, sitting perfectly fine. How a building could crush him and he only needed a week. How fucking jealous she was of how valuable he was.