study_in_scarlet | Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

It was too early after too little of rest. Clint's mind was dull and slow and it took him a moment to even realize that Natasha had moved, and then he had to force his eyes open with all willpower. After more long, confused seconds, when the already far too familiar noise started, he finally remembered that they weren't on some mission, that he wasn't out on too much painkillers. That this unfortunately wasn't quite a holiday anymore either.

He was still trying hard to blink away his dizziness when he scooted behind her to help her out, his movements aimless, but somehow he made it anyway to keep her hair away from her face. It was even more tangled than yesterday. His other arm rested against her back, hardly touching her, just a support to lean into when the worst was over. There was a bitter taste on his tongue, his stomach hurt and he felt a little like joining Natasha in her morning exercise but at least he was awake now. More or less. Pre-coffee awake.

And as if his head didn't feel heavy enough already, at this very moment a quiet but very persistent whining sounded from outside the door started. Well, at least that had worked, Liho was back and obviously hungry. That made at least one of them.

Clint was there, just as always, though it had taken a little longer than expected. He was clearly exhausted and needed more sleep, and she wished she wouldn’t have bothered with the bucket and had gone to the washroom instead. Maybe then she wouldn’t have woken him at all.

When she had stopped retching she stayed still, hugging the bucket and trying to even her breathing. It was here, the morning was here, but it was still early. She had hoped to sleep through as late as possible so there would be less time to fret.

Grabbing the bottle of water she took a mouthful and swished it around before spitting it into the bucket. “It’s still early. Go back to sleep,” she said, her voice strained and scratchy.

Clint hesitated. Usually he wouldn't even have considered it, but truth was, he felt like a train had hit him. Another half an hour of rest and then two gallons of coffee sounded not that bad, especially since he had to drive soon.

But he just couldn't stand the thought of Natasha strolling through the house on her own. He couldn't leave her alone with this horrible wait.

"What about you?", he asked, his voice not sounding much better than hers. "Think you can fall asleep again? I can just go take care of the kitten and come back..."

Of course he wouldn’t even attempt to sleep more unless she did too, though she could tell from that hesitation that he wanted to. Honestly she wasn’t sure if she could or not, or how long her stomach would give her a break, but she didn’t exactly want to get up yet either.

“I can try,” she said, setting the bucket on the floor. “I can at least get a little more rest.”

She was glad that Liho seemed to have returned, especially since she knew Clint had worried she wouldn’t, but Natasha could have done without the crying so early in the morning. So early on this morning.

"Back in a minute."

Clint ran his hand shortly up and down her back, more unnerved than anything when he realized that it trembled. Yeah, lots of coffee and some orange juice later.

He took it slower with standing up than usual and managed to stay clear in the head. Since they had gone to bed only with towels yesterday, he picked a pair of short pants on the way. There was a plate with cut meat in the fridge that he had prepared for a meal, actually, but obviously not needed yesterday, and Liho's bowls were still in the house from yesterday. So it was a matter of seconds getting her food and milk ready. And he even had a second to drown that disgusting taste in his mouth with a sip of juice.

Little one was still visibly wary when he left the house and walked around it to the box he had sat up for her there. But just like yesterday, her hunger got the better of her and she followed him. He didn't bother trying to making friends this morning, for once because he still felt like someone had smoked a joint in his head. And because there were other, bigger worries on his mind. Also, an autumn morning in Sicily was as cool as everywhere else and he was freezing miserably when he came back to the bedroom.

Yeah, at least half an hour under the covers sounded really nice.

While Clint took care of the kitten Natasha managed to make it to the bathroom with the bucket despite how weak her legs felt. Dumping the contents of the bucket in the toilet, she threw up a little more before rinsing everything and flushing it all away. She had just made it back to the bed when Clint came back inside, this time curled up facing the edge where she’d replaced the bucket in case she needed it again.

“Told you she’d come around,” she said, giving him a weak smile. He looked about as awful as she felt, and she hated that he was going through this because of her, while at the same time she was grateful that he was with her.

"Hm-hm. Should believe your predictions more often."

Clint still had a dry mouth and was glad to find an old, half full water bottle next to his bed. It tasted warm and stale but it helped his throat until the inevitable coffee shower.

He rolled on his side too but didn't come too close to Natasha, not when she was still feeling sick and every touch to her stomach could upset her. He was still thinking about something witty or even remotely comforting to say, when he felt himself dozing off again. Well, maybe one pill less tonight.

"'m sorry", he mumbled drowsily. "Just wake me..."

It was surprising how quickly Clint fell back asleep until she remembered something he had said last night, that he would “down a pill or too” if he needed to. She didn’t know when he had taken a moment to do so but she was pretty certain that must have been what he’d done.

While he slept Natasha watched the minutes ticking by, her hand rubbing soft circles over her stomach. Just the heat of her hand seemed to help and she made a mental note about checking into a hot water bottle or something else warm that she could hold against her stomach in times like this.

She thought about getting up and trying to do something to pass the time, but if Clint awoke alone she knew he would feel guilty for having slept while she couldn’t. Eventually she closed her eyes and just listened to him breathing, though no matter how much it helped she couldn’t keep from checking the clock every few minutes.

Clint woke up still feeling half hungover but physically more rested. That was as good as it would get today.

He took a minute of letting himself getting orientated this time, just feel Natasha's soothing presence near, the light weight of her form next to his on the mattress. Her light breathing that let him know she was far from being asleep. Well, at least one of them had kept track of the time then...

"Guh."

He murmured something unintelligible and cracked one lip open but quickly closed it again. Too bright. Coffee. Now. Then... well, getting ready. For... for something he didn't want to think about yet, not when he was feeling like after sucking on a bottle of whiskey half of the night.

"'ow late? Ya' sleep any at all?"

Clint’s sleepy voice and disorientation was kind of cute, and on any other day Natasha would have found it amusing, but while he had been sleeping she had done little more but think about what was to come. Needless to say she was not feeling easily amused this morning.

“A little,” she said, slowly pushing herself to sit up now that she knew her movements wouldn’t wake him. She had drifted in and out a few times, which probably didn’t really count as sleeping but it would have to do. “We have about an hour.”

Drawing one leg up on the bed so she could turn partially toward him, she did smile a little at the picture he presented. Brushing a hand through his sleep mussed hair and down over his cheek and jaw, she traced his lips with her thumb before retracting her hand. “We should get ready.”

"Hm-hm."

Clint pressed a quick kiss to her thumb and forces himself to sit up, just as slowly as last time. It helped, the world stayed in shape, and the coffee lifesaver was as good as in reach now. Of course getting really awake would also mean dealing with what they had to get ready for but he was determined to shove this away from him as long and far as possible. Early enough to fall apart when they were at that doctor's.

"You can have the shower, I'm just getting a caffeine injection. I'll come to wash your hair then."

It was a good sign that his brain wasn't too fogged to forget that, right?

He was groggy and off balance but he still remembered his promise from last night and that earned him another smile, no matter how faint. “Okay,” Natasha agreed, watching him wander out to the kitchen before making her way to the washroom again. A shower sounded pretty good, but not as good as brushing her teeth and getting rid of the lingering taste of sickness in her mouth, so she did that first and gargled with mouthwash – it wasn’t like she planned on breakfast this morning anyway – before mixing the water for a warm shower and stepping under the spray.

She could do this. Another couple of hours and the appointment would be over. The worst wouldn’t be, not by a long shot, but one step at a time.

Clint gave himself a quick wash-over in the kitchen and got dressed with the next best shirt and pants just like yesterday, while the coffee brewed. He downed the much too hot drink with grim determination and had the second mug already in his hand when he joined Natasha in the bathroom. Ice cold water on certain body parts had helped clear his head and the rest of drowsiness slowly had to surrender to his live safer. He actually thought of shortly reaching behind the shower curtain to let Natasha know he was there, suspecting she would be just as lost in her own thoughts as yesterday.

"You hanging in there, red?", he asked quietly, shoving the curtain aside just enough to sit down on the tub edge, and wait for her to sit down so he could take care of her hair.

She wouldn't be okay so he didn't ask her, if she was. And she obviously didn't feel good. He just needed to know if she was feeling stable enough for this difficult appointment today, for even getting there, with all the people around, the waiting, the heat. There was still also a possibility of letting a doctor come here even if that would prolong proceedings.

She cleaned herself methodically, more habitual than anything, and by the time Clint joined her she was just standing under the spray, letting it wash over her as if it could wash away all her worries.

Nodding in answer, she looked him over and smiled weakly. “You look much more awake,” she said. “I’ll try not to get you wet.”

Grabbing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, she set them beside Clint before seating herself in the tub and finding the best position so he could wash her hair.

"Hey, I can do with a little more refreshment before we leave."

Clint got the shower head from the pole with just the same, faint smile, not dishonest, just not as enthusiastic as it used to be. It was true, he doubted he would get really awake until they had to face that appointment today, and touching her was never a punishment. Also, if she needed more help than just a pair of hands, he would climb into the tub with her immediately, clothes be damned.

They were running a little short on time so he couldn't treat her as much as he liked. But he made very sure, he didn't hurt her, keeping his hand out of her curls completely when he got them wet and trying not to pull on even the most tangled strands when he worked the shampoo in. It wasn't much better after the first go of conditioner so he did that one again. After rinsing it out for a second time, he finally could brush his fingers through her hair mostly without getting stopped.

"Better."

He bent down for a gentle kiss on her forehead and then her lips and frowned a little when he felt them too dry, too sensitive.

"You not hydrated enough, red. Want some tea? Or just water?"

Natasha loved it when Clint washed her hair. The feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp was relaxing, and while he didn’t take the time he normally would, his gentle touch was still exactly what she needed.

Closing her eyes while he worked, she concentrated on his touch, on the warm water cascading over her, on the gentle scent of the shampoo. By the time he had finished she was decidedly more relaxed than she had been.

Looking up at him once he’d wiped the water from her eyes, part of her wanted to point out that that coffee wasn’t a substitute for breakfast, so perhaps he wasn’t fed enough either, but she held her tongue. “Do you have any travel mugs?” She didn’t have time to nurse a cup of tea, but the hot liquid was always a comfort. Taking it with might be nice. A mug of tea and her bucket and she would be ready to go.

"I'll come up with something."

Clint handed her a towel before he left and quickly set up that tea, then he started searching his kitchen. He didn't exactly remember the content of every cupboard, but finally he found a big flask that should keep the stuff warm at least for a few hours. And the lid served perfectly as a mug. Some leftover from his sea trips, he was pretty sure.

Until the tea was ready, it was well time to go. In his sudden hurry he realized damn well that his hands weren't as steady as they should be, but his stomach still felt like a sealed vacuum. He couldn't remember the last time he had been hungry. He drank the last bit of coffee straight from the mug instead to save time, and left the kitchen with the flask and a new bottle of water under his arm, in case the tea wouldn't do the trick.

"Come on, red, let's get this done."

Drying herself off while Clint searched the kitchen, Natasha combed out her hair and left it down, figuring the warm air would dry it. She put on a little make-up, more out of routine and the desire for normalcy than anything, and dressed in a pair of linen trousers and a blouse. It was likely to be another hot day, but somehow shorts or a skirt just weren’t appealing today. She wanted to feel less exposed for as long as she could before the potentially invasive appointment.

At Clint’s call she tried to ignore how her stomach churned anew but grabbed the bucket and headed back out to the kitchen. “Just in case,” she said with a smile that did nothing to hide her nerves. Let’s get this done, she repeated in her head. She really hoped the wouldn’t have to wait long once they made it to the office.

The drive was another welcome distraction. Unfortunately it didn't last very long.

It was only on the short way from the parking lot to the door that this heavy emptiness in Clint's stomach suddenly turned into a sharp pain. This was it, from here on they couldn't run anymore. They would get their judgment, unbiased, professional and thorough, and then they would have to confirm their decision from yesterday and... He wasn't ready to think about that just yet.

Once it was their turn in the row, it went quickly, he just had to tell the woman the doctor's name and she seemed to know. Natasha and him were sent to the woman's hospital track with some kind of formal paper, and once there they were straight advised to a examination room. The nurse let them know that the doctor would be with them shortly, which was at least better than sitting out there with all these other people, more than one pregnant woman among them. But it also meant, they had no idea, how long they would be waiting.

Clint sat down on the only chair with a sigh since he figured, Natasha would be taking the stretcher anyway, and stared at his hands, more uncomfortable than ever.

"So, um... Do you want me to wait outside?"

Everything seemed to happen in a blur, and by the time they were secluded in their own examining room Natasha felt sick and dizzy and jittery as hell. She wanted to bolt, to run out of this place and never look back, but she made herself sit on the white paper covered table and tucked her hands between her knees to keep them from shaking.

She considered Clint’s question, really considered it. She had wanted to be alone yesterday, had needed the time to process everything without him, or so she had thought. She hadn’t really processed anything, though, and of what gain had it really been? Looking at him now, she could see how completely miserable he was, and shutting him out now would only drive a wedge between them, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“No,” she answered after a long moment. “I want you to stay.” It would be easier if he was here to hear everything for himself instead of her having to relay any information, and even during the examination it would be a comfort to have him standing by for support. Besides, this was affecting him just as much as her, and it would be cruel and unfair to treat him as if he didn’t matter. It was her body, but this wasn’t all about her. “Please.”

The way she said this one last word made his heart clench and brought the tightness in his throat back. This quiet, vulnerable tone... She was feeling just as bad as he was, of course she was. She was the one who would have to go through all this. He could merely watch and pretend to know how horrible it was for her, when really he probably couldn't even imagine it.

He wasn't sure, he would be even able to stand seeing her in all that pain, both physically and mentally. He had hated it in the past when a mission went downhill, and this time it was so much worse. He was responsible for this situation by a big part. And no matter how often he tried to hold on to that mindset, this still wasn't a fucking mission. This thing they had loaded onto their shoulder all by themselves. His partner, his strong beautiful untouchable Natasha was suddenly put in such an ordinary, compromised, weak position. Just seeing her sit in this sterile, cold room filled with sharp instruments and smelling of meds and desperation, broke his heart.

But instead of sending him away, try to get everything alone as it was her way, she didn't take his offer of some more privacy. Even while that pain of seeing her like this still choked him, there was also a small, comforting flame of warmth spreading in his chest. She trusted him with this, though without him she wouldn't even be here... That was how close they had become. And he certainly wouldn't let that go to waste.

Without thinking about it, he got up to sit down next to Natasha instead. Now at least she didn't look that lost and alone on that damn stretcher anymore. She would never be alone as long as he could help it. His arm slipped around her waist, his hand resting on her thigh instead of her belly to not irritate her stomach again, and his lips touched her temple just fleetingly.

"Not going anywhere, red."

All of her instincts told her to do this alone, to send him away and deal with it by herself. If he was here for it he would know everything, and there would be no massaging the information to fit what she wanted. If he wasn’t there she could tell him anything afterwards and he would believe her. The fact that she didn’t take that option even when he offered it spoke of how important he had become to her and how much she trusted him.

Leaning into him she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes a moment. She wanted him to know the whole truth, and to be there for her through it all with eyes wide open. Their relationship was built on honesty, and over the years they had developed such a strong trust and she would never do anything to break that.

In the end he was her lover, her partner and her best friend, and whatever happened today they would deal with it as they dealt best with things: together.

Just as she was starting to relax against him the door opened and the doctor entered. It was time.

Clint was still trying to come up with something to say when the door opened, without success, but maybe that wasn't necessary right now. Natasha knew, he was there for her and accepted it, that was all he had to offer right now.

And maybe help her through that difficult first conversation. Or send that doctor back where he came from if he turned out to be a moron after all. He had seemed okay on the phone, but Clint didn't exactly trust his instincts right now.

His first impression was looking behind the guy who entered to see if there was someone else behind him. Maybe the real doctor had just his intern to collect some date? That scrawny guy with the coke bottle glasses didn't look older than 18 and definitely couldn't be older than 25. But there were two or three titles on his badge and the name was the right one as Clint could see when the man neared.

Confused, he looked up to meet the guy's gaze and promptly he was welcomed with a knowing grin. He had to fight not to blush immediately. Obviously he wasn't the first one to be surprised at the unusual sight of someone so young that successful in such a prestigious sector.

"Tomasini. Thank you two for calling me."

The guy didn't bother with all these titles when he introduced himself and offered a quick but honest, warm handshake. Clint's reservations quickly faded as he returned the favor and gave the man Natasha's and his names for good measure.

Still he felt the already familiar cold grip on his throat again when the guy took his seat, astraddle against the low back rest, and fidgeted with the file he had brought, doubtlessly Natasha's data from yesterday. He didn't want to hear, didn't want to talk about it. Though he knew it was perfectly stupid and childish to procrastinate this shit, he couldn't stop his mouth from talking, as it happened so often.

"You don't look very Italian."

It was true, though. The guy was unusually pale, a hint of sunburn vanished under the collar of his perfectly neat and white but crooked worn coat. Not exactly the bare chested, bronze skinned gigolo you expected to meet on an Island like this.

He had that typical amused, friendly and slightly condescending grin though Clint had gotten so used to while living here.
"Well, neither do you."
For a moment they glared at each other with that very wry grin. Then the guy chuckled, short enough to keep the very serious situation just that but not make it any more dramatic than necessary either. It wasn't, not yet, no reason to make it even harder for themselves.
"You're right though, my family's roots are in South Tyrol. Probably more German and Austrian blood than anything in here."
He shortly knocked against his chest and went beck to read the file then, or at least pretend to.
"That a problem?"

"Of course not."
Great, now Clint was blushing. God, he should just keep his mouth shut.
"I just was..."

"You're nervous and uncomfortable. Understandable but uncalled-for. We're only here to scribble down the facts today."
The doctor gave him a last, rather fleeting smile but turned his attention to Natasha then.
"I should start by saying that you're further along than my colleague told you yesterday. There's still time", he added quickly before even a spark of worry could bloom in Clint's heart. "But we still should get moving. If you're ready..."

He nodded shortly at the room-divider in the corner, right next to the waiting examination chair, where she could undress discreetly.

Natasha didn’t often get nervous but when she was she tended to go silent, the exact opposite of Clint’s reaction. He tried to fill the silence, tried to make conversation, and as usual just ended up putting his foot in his mouth. She would have laughed had she the ability to do so right now.

While Clint conversed with the doctor Natasha took that moment to study him. The young age didn’t bother her considering how young she had been when she had started her own training. Age really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things; it was all about skill, knowledge, practice and, in the case of doctors, beside manners. So far it seemed like Tomasini had that last one, at least.

When his attention turned to her Natasha met his eyes unflinchingly until he stated that she was further along than originally diagnosed. He quickly amended, further but not too far, but she could already feel her stomach tightening, could already feel that fear settling.

Giving Clint’s knee a gentle squeeze she got to her feet again and disappeared behind the partition. Why had she chosen a shirt with buttons? Her fingers shook as she struggled with the offending fasteners until she was finally free; thankfully the pants were drawstrings and much easier. breathe. Just breathe, she reminded herself as she pulled on the hospital gown . Taking another moment to compose herself she stepped back out to join the two men.

They started with the 'uncomfortable' part as the guy liked to call it when Natasha returned, more vulnerable than ever looking in that thin white gown. Part of Clint wanted to join her when the doc moved over to that chair, hold her hand or something, but that would have been really awkward. The situation was shitty as it was. So he stayed on that stretcher and mostly stared at his hands while the doc did his work and scribbled down a few things from time to time.

Only when Tomasini sent Natasha back, telling her, she could put on her pants and bra, he looked up, hesitating. Not sure if he was ready to see what was on the man's face after that first check.

The guy looked one shade even paler than before, and a frown had settled on his face, but Clint very well knew that didn't have to mean anything. He knew Natasha's file better than some S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors, the scars that were left from years of torture... The scars that were the reason why she had been told, she couldn't conceive again. The guy should at least understand part of that story now. Natasha obviously wouldn't have told that other doctor yesterday.

Part of him wanted to ask right away, but that wouldn't have been fair as long as Natasha wasn't in the room. Also, they weren't done yet.

And most importantly, he still wasn't sure, he even wanted to hear the answer. He had thought, the wait yesterday had been bad, but sitting around here now, not being able to do anything, not even hold Natasha close, while their fate was written down on these damn pages over there... It was probably only thanks to decades of archery patience and focus that he hadn't started running through the room yet. On his lower arms, there were faint red marks from his own nails though, and a few times he had to keep himself from tearing that damn paper cover on the stretcher to pieces.

He was relieved and even more terrified when the doc politely told him to move his ass so they could do the ultrasound next. That part he had been even more afraid of. He didn't know if he could bring himself to look at that damn monitor. And he didn't know if he could make himself look away. Watching that damn thing, seeing... seeing this was definitely the most stupid idea of the century, but he didn't trust his self control even the slightest bit.

Which was why he was very glad when the doctor made sure to turn the monitor away from both of them, after Natasha had laid down. After a moment of stupid standing around, not knowing where to put his hands, Clint just knelt down on the front end of the stretcher and reached for Natasha's hand.

"Nearly done", he murmured and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. He wasn't surprised at all to find it tremble and too cold and made it his job to warm it softly between his gently caressing hands while his gaze was sternly fixed on her face.

Dancing in the Dark (for farmboyhawk)

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