They've just about cleared the abandoned factory (it looks like their tip that hostile technology from the latest alien invasion was being stored here was false, after all) when an explosion rips through the previously quiet night.

It takes Steve a moment to recover enough to think, but when he does, his first thought is for his team.

"Everyone ok?" He holds his breath as he waits for their replies.

Bruce is the first to answer, "I'm ok."

"My ears are still ringing, but I appear to be in one piece." That's Tony accounted for.

"I am unhurt, although I think it would be wise to remove ourselves from harm's way as soon as possible." And Thor.

Next comes Clint's clipped reply, "I'm here."

Steve waits for Natasha's answer to round out the group.

And waits.

A cold fear grips Steve's heart. Not again. He's not losing someone again.

"Romanoff, report." He says sternly into his comm at the same time Clint chokes out, "Natasha?"

Deafening silence is their only reply.

"Does anyone have eyes on her?" Steve barks.

There is a chorus of replies in the negative.

Steve can barely breathe for a minute as he hears himself say, "Fan out. I've got the third floor. Thor and Clint, you clear the second one. Banner, Stark, ground floor."

There are tight-lipped replies and then everything falls silent. Steve moves from his position on the stairwell by the third floor to pull open the door. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath until his body reflexively fought for air. The door handle groans beneath the pressure of his fingers. He releases it and steels himself for what he might see. This was where Natasha was supposed to be. It's also where he guesses the explosion originated.

A quick glance at the barren room reveals no sign of Natasha, which only intensifies the feeling of anxiety in Steve's stomach. Debris litters the floor and smoke still swirls in the air. Steve's heart tightens. He calls her name and holds his breath again, waiting for an answer. All he hears is the echo of his voice, coming back to him. He crosses the room quickly, his breath coming shorter than normal. He kicks aside the debris. Nothing.

He feels his heart quicken as he spies a small door at the other end of the room. It leads to a closet, big enough to hold a person. He runs across the floor.

He opens the door and there's the smallest of sounds coming from near his feet: the slight hitch in someone's breathing, the soft scuffing of shoes moving across a dusty wooden floor. He looks down. His eyes blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness. He can see red hair and a slim figure braced against the wall.

"Natasha!"

She does not respond. It's too dark, he thinks with frustration; he can't see. He has to get her out of there, out into the light where he can see if she's injured. He takes hold of her shoulders and begins to gently tug her toward him. She pushes back against him. The sign of life is a relief, but that is quickly replaced by confusion as he gets a knee to the chest. Something's wrong.

It's a struggle to pull Natasha out of her hiding place without hurting or further frightening her. She continues to push and kick against him, landing several good hits to his ribs, abdomen, and shins.

"Natasha. Natasha! It's me. It's ok. It's Steve." He tries to calm her, but it has no effect.

When he does get her out, she pulls away again, careful to put herself far enough away from him to avoid all physical contact. She's looking just past his right shoulder and her body's tightly wound into a defensive posture. Her fists are clenched and the expression on her face dares anyone to attack her. He says her name again and there's no change, not in the defensive posture or the wary look on her face.

He takes a sharp breath as the pieces click together. She can't hear him. The explosion—so loud Tony's ears were ringing from three floors down. She can't see him. The bright flash that must have accompanied the blast. He's seen this in soldiers before.

He needs to let her know she's safe. Then he needs to get her out of here.

Sight is out, sound is out...he mentally reviews the five senses, trying to think of a way to get through to her.

Touch.

He gently takes her hand, holding it in his, and draws it to his chest. She's tense and wary, but does not resist. He touches her hand to the embossed star decorating the front of his suit. He releases her hand and she traces the star for a moment. Her body posture relaxes. She lets her hand fall down to rest gently on his lap. Now that she knows who he is, she seems reluctant to lose physical contact.

Good. That means she know she's safe. Speaking of which...

"I've got her," Steve states over his comm, "Clint, I need you up on the third floor. Everyone else, rendezvous at the helicopter."

There are interlapping crackles of static over the comm in response, the sound of four people shouting over each other to ask if Natasha's ok. Clint's voice comes out strongest: "Steve. Is she ok?" Steve notes the slightest of jagged edges to the question.

"She's not hurt," Steve answers honestly, "Just get here."

A few minutes later, he hears the sound of pounding footsteps and Clint bursts into the room. Steve holds up his free hand to slow him down.

"Come over here. Don't startle her."

Clint frowns.

"The explosion seems to have taken her sight and hearing, at least temporarily."

Clint crouches down beside Steve and studies Natasha for a minute. He reaches out and gently touches her hand. She seizes it and runs her fingertips over his palm. In a sudden blur of movement, her hands fly up to touch Clint's face. She rests against him, seeming to struggle to gain her composure. Watching the raw emotions do battle in her face, Steve finds he suddenly has to swallow around a lump in his throat. After a minute, Natasha lets Clint help her to her feet and together they sling her arm over his shoulders for support. He holds her in place for a moment, then she takes a breath and a step forward. She's unsteady on her feet, but Clint's steady arm around her keeps her from losing her footing completely.

It's a slow process.

Steve's relieved when they find a freight elevator to take them back down to the ground floor. He hadn't been looking forward to taking the scaffolding-like stairs. They'd be a veritable death-trap for someone who couldn't see and who had also lost equilibrium, judging from the way Natasha's been stumbling since they got her to her feet.

Once they finally cross out of the factory, they find Tony, Bruce, and Thor arguing amongst themselves. Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes; really, he'd never met a group less able to follow orders!

There are matching relieved expressions on their face when they catch sight of Natasha, which quickly turn to bewilderment and concern when they realize there is something wrong with her. Thor and Banner rush forward, and Tony stands back, looking lost. While Banner looks to Steve to explain what's wrong, Thor moves to help Clint support Natasha, but he stops him.

"She can't see or hear you. Let her figure out who you are before you get near her." Thor stands still, intensely studying both of them. Clint takes Natasha's hand in his left hand and gently touches both of their hands to Thor's armor. She lets her hand fall away and seizes Thor's forearm tightly. Natasha lets Clint and Thor help her aboard the helicopter. While Banner digs out the first aid kit, Steve fills the rest of the Avengers in on what had happened to her. Clint sits next to her as Banner examines her, their shoulders and arms touching, hands entwined.

"The blindness shouldn't last much longer," Bruce says quietly when he has finished, "The deafness..." He shrugs.

Natasha fastens her safety harness without assistance and Steve can see the relief that she's back in a familiar environment on her face. Even so, Clint does not leave her side for the whole flight.

They're met on the helipad by medical staff and a stretcher. And Steve can't help smirking because he knows Natasha won't go for that, hearing and sight gone, or not. Clint and Steve make eye contact, but before they can work out a plan, Tony jumps from the helicopter and makes a beeline for the medical personnel.

"Oh, you're here for me." Tony flops down on the stretcher. "I have...this ringing...in my ears." He waves his hand in a vague circle by his right ear. And because it's Tony, he neither takes no for an answer, nor shuts up long enough for them to get an argument in, so Steve and Clint get Natasha inside without interference and the aides end up wheeling Tony into the examination room.

By the time they get Natasha settled into a hospital bed, her vision has begun to return. Her pupils are far more reactive and she responds to visual cues. Struck by sudden inspiration, Steve squeezes Natasha's hand in a way that he hopes conveys I'll be back soon and goes in search of a pad of paper.

He writes, Your sight?, and holds it out to her.

Back. She writes and it's not her usually concise hand-writing. Blurry.

Are you ok? Steve hands her back the pad of paper and watches her carefully as she pens her reply.

Her hand hovers above the paper for a minute, then she writes, Better when my hearing comes back.

The doctor enters at that moment and Clint taps Natasha gently to draw her attention to him. The doctor runs a few tests and confirms what Steve and Bruce have already said: the hearing loss is trauma-related, it should wear off soon, but who knows exactly when. Oh, and he wants to keep Natasha overnight for observation.

This goes over about as well as expected.

Steve suspects that if Natasha had proper use of her voice, she might have had more of an effective argument. As it is, scribbled Russian expletives (and probably death threats) don't have the same effect as verbal ones do.

When her hand finally stills—although the scowl on her face remains—Steve reaches for the pad of paper. I'll stay.

Natasha reaches for it back. You don't have to.

He smiles, shrugs. I want to.

She shrugs back, as if to say, well, if you insist, but there's a small smile on her lips.

Clint just settles himself back in the chair to the left of Natasha's bed, like he belongs there. Which he does. All three of them had known he would stay without having to ask. Steve and Clint take turns staying by her side for the rest of the afternoon.

Clint returns from mission debriefing that evening looking rather grumpy (which, actually, Steve has noticed, is a normal state of being for him, post-mission-debriefing). But he brings food, which cheers Steve up, and judging by the look on her face, Natasha, too. Clint hands Natasha the bag of food and the two of them work quickly to set the bedside table. The quiet efficiency makes Steve realize they have done this before. Steve wonders if he should leave, but when neither make a move to dismiss him, he stays.

Steve has eaten plenty of meals in quiet before, usually alone in his apartment after waking up, before he met the Avengers. It should bother him now—it always did then, but it doesn't.

It's odd to find silence so comforting.

The night wears on and they decide to settle in and try for some sleep. Clint and Steve settle down in chairs by Natasha's bedside, one on each side. By unspoken agreement, the light stays on.

Natasha wakes several times during the night. The first time, Steve is wakened by a sharp kick to his thigh from a flailing limb and the soft thwap of heavy blankets hitting his lap. He opens his eyes to see Natasha doing battle with the bedsheets and Clint trying to calm her down. It takes a moment, but her breathing settles and her body relaxes. She lays back against Clint and lies still. Though she's calmer now, Steve notices the faintest of tremors.

Steve rescues the pad of paper from the floor and tries to think of something to comfort Natasha. It'll come back soon, he finally writes. It's a hollow comfort, he supposes, and he squeezes her hand.

He rests his hand gently on her knee, mirroring the comforting posture from the day before. He keeps it there for the rest of the night, an early warning system for Natasha waking in confused terror again.

Which she does. Over and over again through the night. Once the disorientation passes, Natasha becomes frustrated, her frustration increasing with each episode. The third time it happens, Clint crawls into bed with her and pulls her into his arms. It helps a little; the second she begins to tremble, he wakes her up.

It's still a long night, but morning comes at last.

"Well, aren't we a pretty picture?" There's the tell-tale click of a shutter. "Ah, saving photographic evidence that Captain America drools in his sleep for posterity. You're welcome, future anthropologists."

"Shut up, Stark," Clint growls, without opening his eyes. Steve, on the other hand, self-consciously wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

"We brought food!" Thor boasts, but then, reflexively lowers his voice as he sees Natasha still stretched out in sleep on the bed, "Is there no change?"

"She's been asleep for," Clint glances up at the clock, "Three? Hours now. It was a rough night." He glances down at the woman in his arms with an expression close to tenderness.

Thor's eyes turn sad. "I wish I could do something to help. I have no familiarity with such ailments."

Clint slides carefully out of bed, stretches, and pats Thor's shoulder as he walks by. Steve takes a minute to gently adjust the blankets around Natasha before joining the others in the doorway.

"What if her hearing doesn't come back?" Tony asks, which earns him dirty looks from his companions. "I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." He's still getting dark looks from the others, so he continues earnestly, "I'm being serious. We need a plan. Just in case."

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it." Steve argues, "For now, we just need to hope for the best and be supp-"

A pillow flies over Steve's shoulder and smacks Tony in the face.

"I can hear you, you know."

Six heads swivel to Natasha.

She smirks.

They all beam back. There's a chorus of voices as the Avengers all chatter over each other—as they are rather wont to do—trying to get Natasha's attention.

"I made something," Tony interjects nonchalantly as the chaos reaches fever-pitch levels (super-strength and high-pitched voices go hand in hand, it seems). "It's a distress beacon. It relies entirely on touch." The voices quiet and Natasha makes eye contact with him. He holds the small gadget in his hands out to Natasha. "This button, here. See? It will send out an automated warning over the coms and also broadcast to S.H.I.E.L.D and mission headquarters. It has GPS, too, so we can track the owner, if necessary."

"A most successful project!" Thor beams, patting the device on his own belt.

Natasha runs her fingers over it and then looks up at Tony. "Thank you," she says softly. Tony gives her a soft smile in return and then turns with a large grin to hand one each to Steve and Clint.

"You made all of these last night?" Steve asks in surprise, turning his over in his fingers.

"Yep." Tony shrugs. "Mission high, and all that. And Bruce and Thor helped."

Thor looks affronted at the incredulous looks on his friends' faces. "I did!"

"Mostly we gave him things to do so he wouldn't break anything," Banner half-whispers with a wink as he approaches Natasha. "How are you?"

"I'm..." She pauses, then finishes firmly, "Good. Thank you."

Natasha sends everyone but Steve and Clint away after a while. "I've met my hovering quota for today," she says, but there's a fond smile on her face that belies the words.

Mid-morning, Steve steps out to stretch his legs and get them coffee. There is a spring in his step as he walks in the sunshine. They are still seven, Natasha has her hearing back, and all feels right with the world.

Steve is still feeling warm and happy as he approaches Natasha's room and the quiet timbre of her voice stops him in his tracks. He stands in the doorway and listens, and he almost wishes he hadn't.

"I was scared," She says softly, and Steve thinks it's the most vulnerable he's ever heard her.

"I know," Clint says back just as softly.

"Scared of the vast darkness and silence. Scared of being alone." There's a raw edge to her voice.

"You're not alone, Natasha." He reaches a hand up to trace her cheek, the same intimate motion she had done to him the day before. She lays her hand on top of his.

"I know," she whispers back.

Sensing he's intruding on a private moment, Steve turns to leave. The sudden movement catches Natasha's eye and she looks up at him. "You can come in, Steve."

He holds out the coffee he brought her with a smile. She takes it and smiles at him in return. He hands the third coffee to Clint and takes his seat at her bedside again.

"He's right, you know. You're not alone. You have me. And Bruce and Thor and Tony. You're part of a team now."

"I know."

He reaches out and gently squeezes her knee. Touch between the two of them seems like an old habit now.

The three of them drink their coffee in silence for a few minutes, perhaps all lost in their thoughts about actually having someone—someones—to belong to after all this time, as Steve was.

Natasha breaks it suddenly, doing a quick visual sweep of Steve. "I didn't hurt you yesterday, did I?"

He laughs. "No, not at all. Supersoldier, remember?" he adds wryly.

"Of course." She replies with a quirk of her lips. "All the same, I am sorry."

He tips his coffee her direction. "Apology accepted."

Natasha's deemed well enough to leave the medical quarters by the doctor later that day (and just in time, too, because Steve had caught Thor helping Clint and Natasha plan an elaborate escape just beforehand). The whole team spends the night together in Stark Tower. They could say it was by unanimous consent, but it is more that when Natasha's discharged, Tony has a driver and a car waiting, and they just roll with it.

They wouldn't have it any other way, really.

A/N: Fun Fact: This was my big 5-0 story. Wow. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Side Note, because I feel strongly on the subject, the bit with Thor being kept occupied so as not to break things was not maligning his intelligence, so much as it is that he is very intelligent, but not really an inventor, and Banner was mostly just teasing him about that. ;)