Chapter 1
There are a handful of days Natasha can confidently say are the worst of her life. When she was a kid and she watched her parents die. When she'd been forced to flee her home in Russia, terrified and alone on a long journey to the US. And more recently, the day she'd woken up at 2 in the morning, overcome with pain throbbing in her abdomen. She'd been 18 weeks pregnant with her and James’ first child then. Of all her bad days, this may be the one she remembers most vividly. It still plays out in her mind sometimes, as fresh as the day it happened.
She'd woken up screaming and James had shot up beside her, flicking on the light and asking her what was wrong. She couldn't even tell him, was in too much pain to formulate a coherent sentence. He’d called a cab then, and when it arrived, he'd had to pick her up and carry her there. She'd chanced a glance back at the spot she'd been laying in the bed, and saw a pool of blood staining the fabric. James hadn't let go of her the whole way to the ER, just held her in his arms, whispering soothing words to her. She remembers when he'd laid her down on the gurney in the hospital, pressed a kiss to her forehead and promised her everything would be alright. She doesn't remember everything after that, though, because the doctors had pumped her full of painkillers. She came back to her senses hours later, and that was when the doctors had explained everything. There were complications with the pregnancy, things no one could've foreseen. Natasha would recover, but there'd been damages. She'd sat there stoically while being told it was unlikely she'd ever be able to have children again.
She'd fallen into a haze after that, laid around in bed for days on end. James had gone back to work by then, as much as he didn't want to leave her. He'd come home every night, find her there just the way he'd left her, wrap his arms around her and beg her to come back to him. Sometimes he'd run her a hot bath, sit her down and clean her off, whispering reassurances in her ear.
She hardly ate back in those days. He'd had to sit with her and not leave her be until she took a few bites of her dinner. She felt empty, hollow, like she was drifting alone through a vast ocean. James was the only thing that kept her tethered to some semblance of reality. Were it not for him, she'd have lost herself completely. Eventually things had started to improve, she'd gone back to work, life went on. It still haunted her, but it no longer took over her life.
Those are the bad days in Natasha’s past. Today, though, today she thinks just might be a new one. She'd gotten the call less than an hour ago, and had made it to the hospital in record time. She'd circumvented the women at the front desk, went straight back to where Steve is standing.
“Where is he?” she demands.
“Surgery”, he tells her.
She nods and swallows thickly. Her heart is pounding so loudly she can hear it. Why now? Why him?
Her and James’ wedding day had been simple, the two of them at the courthouse, Steve and Clint as witnesses. Bucky had offered her a real ceremony, in a church with a white dress and a priest and a reception with dancing and cake. She'd refused, because she didn't need it. At the end of the day, she'd gotten to go home and lay in their bed beside him, and that was enough.
They'd already moved apartments twice since then. The first, when they'd both gotten serious about having kids, figuring they'd need more room when the time came. The second was after Natasha lost the baby, because she couldn't stand being in the place where it’d happened anymore.
Minutes stretch into hours as she waits for news about James. At one point Steve’s phone rings and he steps out to answer it. When he returns, he gives Natasha a heavy sigh.
“They think they might have a lead on the bomber”, he informs her, “they wanted me to go, but I can stay…”
“No”, Natasha shakes her head, “go. Find whoever did this. I'll call you when I know more.”
Steve hesitates, but eventually nods and runs off, leaving Natasha all alone.
It feels like forever until a doctor appears in the hallway.
“You're Detective Barnes’ wife?”
Natasha nods.
“He's out of surgery”, the doctor informs her, “you can see him, if you'd like.”
Natasha nods and lets the doctor lead her down the hallway. She stops when they reach one of the doors, turns to Natasha and sighs.
“I know this is going to look bad”, the doctor says, “but just know that we are doing everything we can for him, alright?”
Natasha wants to go off on the woman and her condescending warning. She'd seen bad, she could handle it. Instead, she just nods.
When she steps into the room and sees James lying on the bed, suddenly the warning doesn't seem so stupid after all. The doctor has to sit her down in the chair beside the bed, because she's started swaying on her feet. For a minute, it seems like a mistake, like the person on the bed isn't her husband. He's so obscured by bandages and tubes and wires, she thinks it could be anyone lying in the bed.
She opens her mouth to say his name, but it dies in her throat, comes out as a choked squeak. It has her clasping her hands over her mouth, tears blurring her vision as the doctor gives her a run down of Bucky's injuries. His left side took the brunt of the damage. His left arm had been blown clean off, all that remains is a gauze covered stump barely peeking out from the sleeve of the hospital gown. Then there was the burns. Deep, scarring patches that mar his side, neck and even begin creeping up onto his cheek. Of course, Natasha can't see them at the moment, they're hidden under a layer of sterile bandaging, a high risk for infection, according to the doctors. Internally there’s damages too. Two broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung. Bruising around the kidneys, they'd had to remove his gallbladder altogether because of the damages. According to the doctors, he'd been lucky to survive that surgery, considering how much stress his other injuries are putting on his body.
Natasha holds out a shaky hand, strokes the side of his face gently.
The doctor informs her that things have been pretty touch and go for a while, he's stable for the time being, but they don't know how it'll go from here on out. If he gets through the night, the doctor says, there’s reason to be optimistic for his recovery. If not…
Natasha doesn't leave her husband’s side all night, and mercifully, no one asks her to. If they had, she wouldn't. She's not going to risk walking out of that room and it being the last time she ever sees him again. She's so distracted by the day’s events she forgets to update Steve. He'd left the hospital at three, and at nine he calls her for an update. It's a struggle to keep her voice steady as she relays everything the doctor had told her. He tells her he'll be by in the morning. She agrees, internally just hoping James will live that long.
At midnight, Natasha somehow drifts off to sleep. At 1:23 am, she's awoken by the harsh whine of a heart monitor flat-lining. She jumps to her feet and then her body freezes, a sob trying and failing to escape her throat. Hospital staff flood the room then, shouting words between them she doesn't understand. She doesn't need to understand. She knows what's happening. James is dying.
A nurse pushes Natasha out into the hallway, instructs her to stay there before he’s running back into the room with the others. She struggles to take in a breath, peering through the doorway at the chaos going on inside. It's all over in no more than a few minutes, but it feels like hours. The doctors scurry about with their equipment, shouting to one another.
1-2-3
“Clear”
She watches as a defibrillator discharges into Bucky’s chest. His body spasms and the doctors all freeze, but the shrill cry of the heart monitor wails on.
Again
1-2-3
“Clear”
Another jolt of electricity, another spasm, but this time, the monitor's whine melts off into a series of pings, and Natasha’s finally able to exhale.
James is whisked away for examination, and Natasha ends up back in the waiting room. She calls Steve then, and he shows up soon after, puts a hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. They wait for hours, and Natasha doesn't cry the entire time, too shocked to process everything that's happening.
Eventually the Doctor returns, explaining that James was suffering from an undetected pulmonary hemorrhage. They'd quickly put him back under the knife to repair it, and he'd actually managed to hold on through the procedure.
“He's a fighter”, she offers with a small smiles.
“He is”, Steve says and Natasha just nods because yes, of course her James is a fighter.
The tears finally come when she gets to see him again. Her sobs are silent, but persistent, continuing on for hours.
She remains with James all the next day, only leaving that night when Steve offers to stay with him while she gets some rest. She reluctantly agrees, because the doctors say he's stable now and things are improving. Natasha goes back to the apartment, eats, showers, climbs into their bed. She falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. The day's events have left her completely exhausted. The last waking thought she has is a plea to the universe to let James be alive when she wakes up again.