It All Comes Down to Love
It had been just over a month since the car bomb exploded. Natasha had been up and about for three weeks now and almost all of that time had been spent keeping a vigil over her husband. In the past weeks Tony’s condition had slowly improved, but it was still serious. The nanites that had been injected into him were doing their job, but even with them it would still take time to heal all the injuries he had sustained.

The burns covering his body were healing, albeit slowly. The doctors removed what they could of the black charred skin and it was up to the nanites and Tony to heal the rest. His skin was still red and very tender, but it was healing. That was the important thing. She still wasn’t allowed in the room much to her dismay. She wanted nothing more than to be in there next to her husband’s bedside. She wanted to hold his hand and let him know she was there.

Since the moment she had been allowed out of bed, Natasha had been at the observation window. She had taken up a position in a chair and only occasionally left that spot to get coffee and grab a shower. Nothing short of the end of the world would make her leave for any real length of time. Anya and the kids brought changes of clothes during their frequent visits. Natasha only left when one of them was watching over Tony because she didn’t want him waking up and not having a family member there.

Natasha yawned and rubbed her eyes. The lack of sleep was catching up to her. She could go in the room that had been set aside for the family, but she wouldn’t leave Tony. Not even if her life depended on it.

She hated this more than almost anything in the world. She hated seeing Tony like this and she hated not being able to do something about it. Natasha climbed out of the chair and started pacing back and forth in front of the window. The doctors had said it was a matter of time and Natasha wished she had the ability to make time go faster. She wanted Tony awake, better and out of here. Then life could go back to what passed for normal for them.

The urge to go hit something, or better yet shoot someone, was great. A few hours in the training room would do wonders and she had been greatly tempted. There was the possibility of going out and doing some urban gymnastics and beating up some thugs. It was something she always loved doing. The little voice in her head urged her to go and do something, but Russian stubbornness won in the end and she didn’t leave.

She stopped pacing in front of the window. She turned and put a hand to the glass. “Please Tony,” she whispered. “I need you.” She bowed her head and said a silent prayer.