Bruce Banner has been afraid many times in his life. Fear has been a regular occurrence, something he could never escape. He can deal with fear, he's learned to not let it control him. So when a sniper hits Natasha and she collapses beside him, he's able to take control of the situation. But as she bleeds out before him, he realizes he has never been more afraid.
They're walking, nothing unusual. They tend to do that when life in the Tower gets too hectic. It's late fall and they're enjoying the air. Bruce casts glances at Natasha, for some odd reason that day he's especially in awe of her. It might be the way the sun hits her hair, or the way her maroon sweater seems to accentuate every curve. It could also be the fact that she has her hand wrapped around his, and is casually swinging their arms like they're school children. But for some reason, she's especially awe-inspiring that day.
"Is there something on my face?" She suddenly asks, turning to face his with a grin like she knows exactly what's running through his mind. She probably does. He stares at her for a moment, just soaking in how perfect she is, before he answers her.
"No. You're just especially beautiful today." And he finishes off his words with a grin, one that makes Natasha smile with him. She shrugs her shoulders and turns back towards their route. They're heading out to a small cafe for lunch. He watches her turn, and then he's watching her fall backwards, like something had slammed into her. He catches her before she hits the ground, hot blood already soaking her sweater. The crowd around them disperses, some people screaming. He can't be bothered, he looks around, trying to find where it came from. He doesn't even know what it is, but he knows he needs to get her to safety. As carefully as he can, he scoops her up and darts under an awning. The shot had to have come from a building, a sniper, something, so he hopes the awning will give them enough protection. He fumbles in his pocket for a brief moment before he finds his panic button, and he swears he almost breaks it with the force he uses. And then he turns to what is most important. Natasha.
"Natasha." He calls her name, her eyes are open but there's blood on her lips and he doesn't like the look in her eyes. He's fighting against the Hulk inside, but he needs to focus, he needs to help her. His hands are probably a little green when he rips open her sweater to see the damage. There's blood pooling around them, faster than it to be just an entry wound. He reaches around her back as gently as he can and he swears, because there's definitely an exit wound, and it looks like the bullet or whatever it was went right through the left side of her chest. He has his own jacket off in seconds and he's pressing to her chest. She needs a hospital and she needs it now, he knows that. She's bleeding out far too fast and he's scared. Terrified. She's dying, and she hasn't responded to him.
"Natasha, stay with me." He begs, he can't spare a hand to touch her cheek, he's too busy trying to keep her blood in her body, and failing. "Please." He begs, because it can't end like this. He can't lose her like this, not like this. He hears sirens in the distance and he tries to hope, but he's slowly growing covered in her blood and he's starting to lose hope. Natasha jerks slightly against his grip and starts choking and oh god no. He quickly rolls her onto her side, this is what he was afraid of. It went right through her lung. He keeps her on her side as she coughs up more blood, she's losing too much of it, from too many places. And that's when he hears it. His name. It's barely audible, and stuttered, but she's with him. She's aware. That means something, right?" He moves so that he's in front of her, so that she can see him. Because he's trying to be hopeful, but he's afraid and that's making him a realist. He knows how bad this is, he can see it. Feel it.
"Help's coming, just stay with me." He says to her, still trying to keep her from bleeding out. He's kneeling in a puddle of her blood, it's soaking his pants and socks and shoes. The sirens are getting closer, and maybe he can hope. Maybe a little. That's when he hears the familiar sound of repulsors landing nearby, and he spares a glance behind him to see Tony. Wonderful, glorious Tony. The faceplate on the sit flips up and Bruce can see Tony's expression mirror his own.
"Son of a bitch." He says, and Bruce only has a slight idea of how bad this looks. "Steve, get the medics over here, now!" Tony snarls into what Bruce can only assume is a comm. And then Tony is kneeling down beside him, turning to Bruce.
"What can I do to help?" He's asking, and Bruce looks down. If Tony can take her back, he'd be able to try and keep her awake by touch.
"Pressure on her back, don't worry about hurting her." Bruce says, and he switches off his hand for Tony's two. She's running out of time, and he knows it. He doesn't even bother to wipe the blood from his hand when he reaches to cup the side of her face in his hand.
"'Tasha, come on, stay awake." He can tell just by looking at her that she's struggling to keep her eyes open, and he's terrified she's already going into shock. She looks at him with tired eyes and he forces a smile for her.
"L-love … you." She whispers, and it takes him a moment to translate the Russian, but she's already closing her eyes and going limp and no. No.
"Natasha!" He shouts at her, he taps her cheek. There's no response. But he can hear her wheezing breaths, the fluid gurgling as it fills her lung. She's still breathing, that's what matters. This is getting bad, it's getting worse than bad, but finally. Finally paramedics show up, and he can hand her over to people who know their job better than he can do. He backs away and watches them work, trying to save her, to keep her alive. She codes the moment they have the EKG hooked up, and Bruce, he didn't even realize he was standing, falls back to his knees. He's losing her, she's dying, and he can't do anything. He's so afraid, so terrified. This isn't the kind of fear he ever thought he'd experience. He hears it when her heart picks back up again, and Steve is there, helping him to his feet. He lets Steve and Tony guide him to a car, he can only hope they're heading to wherever Natasha is going. He's still so afraid, her blood is cooling on his hands, his clothes. Everything is coated, soaked, with her blood. He wants to be rid of these clothes, they're reminding him. Making him relive, and remember. Tony, minus the suit, eventually gets in the driver's seat, and tosses him a bundle of cloth. Clothes, he realizes. His back up clothes for post-Hulking. It's awkward to change in the back of a car while its driving, but he doesn't care. He gets some blood on the new clothes, but they're not soaked with it. There are even spare shoes and socks and he's so grateful when he pulls them on. By the time he's finished changing, the car is stopping. Bruce climbs out to find Steve already there, clasping him on the shoulder. He's terrified, but he realizes, so is the rest of the team. He doesn't know what they'll all do if they lose her, Bruce doesn't know what he'll do without her.
He tries not to look up as Steve and Tony lead him into the hospital, he doesn't care where they're going, as long as he'll hear word of her condition. He's led to a small room, and he sits down, letting his head fall into his hands. He doesn't know how long he sits there before Thor and Clint enter the room.
"We've got the bastard." Clint says to Steve, and Bruce half wants to ask Clint where, so he can make whoever did this extremely sorry for even touching Natasha. But he knows he's needed here. His mind is roiling, everything seems hazy. He's probably in shock himself, but he doesn't care. He fades out again. This time he swims back to awareness when Steve is addressing a doctor. Bruce tries to pay attention, but when he hears that she will live. That she's going to survive, the warm rush of relief is too much. He fades out, but not in a green tinged way. Just a general overwhelmed faint.