He's running in slow motion, time has all but stopped. She's fast, but she just wasn't fast enough. He sees Clint leaping from ledge to ledge in hopes of getting to her faster, but Coulson will be there first. "Nataaaashhha!" Coulson screams over the gunfire and explosions. He has a gun in his hand, forgotten. Thank god that Barton had reminded him to put on his vest because he was being buffeted from all sides. The bullets stung, but stopped by the vest. He didn't care. He had to reach her. "Coulson!" Both Natasha and Clint are screaming at him. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Barton stop and rapid fire four arrows. Time is still so very slow. Like he's running through water. He gets so very close and his knee locks, going down on his knees, he slides the last few feet and smashes into the wall beside Natasha. She's coughing, he can hear her labored breath above everything else. "Natasha, where- where are you hit?!" He's searching as he asks, her hands grasp at his coat, his neck and then his hands. They're covered in blood. Time speeds back up as she coughs again and there's small blood bubbles on her lips. "WHERE?!" He yells, panicking at the fear in her eyes. Finally he sees it. Pushing her high black collar aside he finds the wound. She's been shot in the neck- no, through and through. Two holes, two places to leak all this blood. He shrugs out of his jacket, wading it up and pressing it against her neck. "You're going to be alright. You're going to be fine." He didn't believe his own lies, neither did she. Her lips are moving, more blood trickles out but not words. He leans closer, ear almost touching her lips, there's still air, but no words. His face is wet, when had he started crying? When had he pulled her into his arms? When had he started rocking her? "You're going to be alright. You're going to be fine.." He just repeats the words until they no longer make sense. She shakes her head against his hands and he stops. His vision, his world narrows to just her. Her face, her lips, the barely audible words. "I'm sorry Ph- Phil.." He loses it. He screams. He lets the jacket fall, his blood drenched hands on the sides of her face, her hands on top of his. He rests his forehead against hers. Fear no longer in her eyes and that scares him more. "No- no don't- Natasha don't! Natasha!" He watches her, watches her lips lift up in that small teasing smirk she does and then he watches the light fade from her eyes. He loses it. Not even Clint can separate him from her when he finally reaches them.