Heart Beat

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I own nothing


"Natasha!"

Steve listened to his frantic tone carry over the roaring flames surrounding him, his deep blue eyes filled with water as he inhaled the choking smoke, feeling it clog over his lungs. It felt like he was back in the trenches, crawling on his belly, and gripping pieces of twirled metal cable sticking out of heaps of debris. His dark navy stealth uniform was tattered, revealing exposed skin, deep gashes with oozing blood. His bones jostled with every movement, but he refused to give up his search for her. He coughed out a heaving breath, feeling his ribs constrict against the thin material of his uniform. The chiseled lines of his face gleamed with feverish sweat, and streak of blood trickled over his strong jaw line and down his Adam's apple. He felt paralyzed with dread, frozen in time as he scanned his eyes over the firelight, and desperately called out the name of his partner again, "Natasha! His voice began to strain against his throat, and heart sped a few notches, and it made his chest ache with dull pain.

"Nat?" He started to shake as he fumbled his fingers over the ground, and hoisted his weight up, unsteady to his feet. He managed to grasp a wooden joist for support, and regained his balance. He narrowed his foggy eyes down, and found her resting over rumble, her scarlet locks fanned out, and beautiful ivory skin covered with splotches of ash and mild bruising.

"Hold on," he whispered out a ragged breath, climbing over heaps of debris. He jumped gracefully down from a rafter, and landed at her side. His body crashed to the ground, and his shaky hand caressed her cheek. "Natasha can you hear me?" he asked, his voice almost a faint breath. He extended out his other large hand, and stroked his fingers gently through the curled strands of red hair, and he tenderly placed two fingers on her jugular and relief swelled as he got a relative steady pulse beat, feeling the vein thump against the pads of his rough fingers. 'Natasha, wake up." She didn't stir, didn't moan, and didn't do anything. He swallowed down a lump of fear.

Carefully, Steve unzipped her jacket, pulling the metal teeth down to her navel. His heart sank to the floor when his eyes looked on the opened wound on the right side of her hip, a single shard of steel from when of the joist was embedded in the embellished skin. "Nat!" he cried out in a hoarse whisper, rubbing his palms flat on her curves. He kept his crystal blue eyes steady on her leaded form, focused the clarity of his vision on her pale rose lips, staring at the small lines of blood streaming from the corners of her mouth, and down the sharp curve over her chin. He eased the pressure of the wound with a soothing touch of warmth, and efficiently pulled the shard out of her. He knew how to handle situations on the front lines that involved medical assistance when a soldier's life with hanging on the thread. He knew how to stay calm and fight against the dire desperation when he left to comfort a fallen soldier-a good man.

"No," he rasped, feeling a rough tug on his heart strings as he listened to the faint breath escape from her slightly parted chalk colored lips. "I'm sorry." He caressed his gloved hand on her pale cheek. She was struggled for breath and instantly he lowered himself against her, disregarding the cowl, tossing aside. His handsome and battered face became visible in the shadows outlining over his curvatures as a faint glow of light from the roaring inferno shining over them.

"Hold on, Natasha." he said, resting his ear against her left breast. Her heart beat was growing faint. "No, I'm not going to lose you." His voice was grinding against his raw throat; bones were throbbing behind the layers of his uniform as he felt the sickly blood from the gash on his forehead seep down his sweat-slacked cheek. "I'm not going to lose you, Nat." He yelled, unzipping her jacket until the zipper touched her breast bone and gently applied pressed to her chest and counted to five. He parted her blue tinged lips and enveloped his mouth over hers as he breathed his warm breath into her and felt her chest lift against him. Her lungs started to fill with air.

Only her green eyes fluttered opened to bare slits, and coughed of a gush of water as he pulled away, watching her show him little indication of the pain that was coursing through her veins from the pressure of her gunshot wound below her rib cage.

Natasha blinked trying to adjust to the darkness surrounding her, as he listened to her swallowing breathing that should have been fanatic and forceful but instead it was mostly still and compressed, barely pushing through her nose when he pressed his lips back onto her mouth and released a rush of air down her throat. When he pulled away a second him, he applied gentle pressure on her shoulders with his gloved palms, stroking his fingers in soothing motion. He stared down at her, merely inches away from her face, his smudged crystal eyes scanned over her pale and clammy skin as his mind churned with dreaded thoughts as he looked at the line of blood dripping over her bottom lip.

"You're going to be okay," he said bringing his lips to the damp brow. "I'm not going to let you die." His voice was raging. "You're going to live, Natasha." He placed his hand over her cheek as she opened her eyes again, and stared up into the softness of his eyes.

"Steve," she strangled with a hoarse voice.

He nodded, framing his hand over her face. "I can't believe I almost lost you…" his voice trailed, to the wails of sirens in the background. She wheezed out a breath and clenched her jaw feeling the numbness in her side as he threaded his fingers softly through her dampened hair, pulling out the pieces of glass tangled in the long red strands draped over her chest. He covered her upper lip with desperate wet heat as she kept her eyes focused on him with a questionable gaze as she felt the blood roll down to her neck. She struggled against him, feeling the blast of pain explode in her rib cage.

He held her gently and said, "Listen to me…you've been wounded. You need medical attention."

"I'm not going to any hospital," she hissed, defiant.

"No. If Rumlow finds out you're still alive." He pursed his lips for a few seconds. " I know place where it's safe."

"I can't believe you actually care for me," she replied, a ping of guilt rattled in her chest. "Not after what I did to you."

Steve shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I want you safe."

"I don't think I can make it." She gritted her teeth, feeling weaker as she tried to lift herself off the rubble.

"You'll make it." He spoke with determination burning in his eyes. "You're in my hands now, Natasha." His detached his leather off his plated shoulders and wrapped it over her body. She inhaled the scent of him, comforted by the linger warmth of his body as he grabbed the cowl off the ground and eased it over his face and then enclosed his arms softly around her slender form, lifting her gently out of the murky stench of gasoline spilled across the floor and positioned her comfortably against his, hard armored chest.

Her hand found a resting place on his shoulder as he cradled his arms tighter over her back carried her into the darkness.

"Don't give up on me, Nat." he said, trying to contain his fragile emotions as he snapped his eyes down to her still body. "Stay with me." He pressed his plush lips softly on her forehead as he started trudging toward the direction of the alley nearby.

She closed her eyes and drifted into an unconscious state, feeling the heat of his body enter through her chilled bones. She listened to the soft pounding of his strong heart and she knew he was her shield against the red storms.