Hey everyone welcomes to day 12! Now, bear with me if this doesn't seem wholly true to life, I have done a lot of research and I'm trying my best. Enjoy! Warnings for general violence, blood and panic attacks.
Kotyonok - kitten
SACRIFICE
Clint and Natasha stood next to each other, either guns or knives in their hands as they took down the large group coming towards them.
They fought fast and efficiently, both dangerous in their own ways. They took down person after person, men and women alike, and never broke a sweat.
When the first wave of marks were down, the assassins were rounding the corner and onto the next fight.
The agents fighting them had their own weapons which always made fighting in closer quarters a little more difficult.
They had to avoid bullets, fists and the pointy end of knives. They often came out of fights covered in bruises, shallow cuts and bullet grazes.
With only two men left to fight, Clint backed up across the bodies to fill in Phil and get their next orders.
That was how Clint saw one of the downed agents rise to his feet and come at Natasha from behind, a bloodied knife in his grip.
"Widow!" He shouted, cutting off whatever Phil had been saying in his ear.
His voice didn't carry and Natasha hadn't seen the man. He was advancing on her and he had the knife pointed at her back. She was busy with her hands around a man's neck and she wouldn't see it time. He reach her and the knife would hit her-
In seconds, he was across the room and shoving into Natasha. She caught herself in time to avoid sprawling across the floor.
"Clint! What the hell?!" She growled, whipping around.
Clint had a hand clamped over his neck and blood bubbled under his fingers.
With a soft groan, he tipped and landed on his knees, his eyes wide and verging on panicked.
The man he'd pushed her away from had already collapsed, bleeding out from his shoulder.
She fell besides Clint just has he tilted backwards and onto the floor.
"Clint-" She gasped, prying his fingers from his neck.
Her eyes widened as she realised what had happened. By pushing her out of the way, he'd caught the knife and it had slashed across his throat.
She clamped her hand around his throat, tight enough to try and stop the blood but not enough to cut off his breathing.
"You shouldn't have done that." She whispered, alarmed as the blood escaped through her fingertips and down his chest.
"I..." he gurgled, coughing as blood bubbled over his lips.
"Hush. Don't speak, I've got you-" She breathed, pressing a little tighter.
"Sir, Hawkeye is down-" She kept her voice came for Clint's benefit.
"What happened? Evac is ten minutes away."
"The idiot pushed me out the way of one of them. His throat is cut. It…it's bad but he's breathing, his trachea seems to be intact." She murmured, gently brushing back strands of his sandy hair from his forehead.
"Dammit-" Phil cursed. "You know what to do, I'll try to get evac there quicker."
"Yes Sir." She murmured and turned her attention back to her partner.
Clint's brows were furrowed, thin lines of pain evident on his face. His skin was all but drained of colour as the blood continued to pulse up under her hands.
"I've got you." She repeated firmly, hating the sound of his gurgling breaths.
"Just keep breathing, Clint, you're not leaving me." She murmured, stroking a thumb over his forehead.
He was going to bleed out in a matter of minutes and her hand wasn't cutting it.
She cursed their use of leather outfits, having no shirt to wrap around his throat.
She slid her knife free with one hand and expertly cut through the shoulder of her catsuit, tearing the material from her arm.
Once the material was free, she briefly pulled her hand away and replaced it with the black leather.
His limbs jerked at the pain as his breaths came harsh and wet sounding.
"Stay still. You're gonna be okay." She whispered.
Clint's eyelids were already beginning to flutter and she cursed, hand on his cheek.
"Clint, look at me. Look at me!" She demanded, watching his glazed over eyes struggling to find her face.
He opened his mouth like he was trying to speak and she shook her head, wiping a reassuring thumb very his cheekbone.
"Just keep looking at me, Kotyonok, you're gonna be okay." She murmured, watching with her heart in her throat as he struggled to keep his eyes open.
"Don't ever do that again, my life is not worth yours." She hummed, shaking her head.
His gaze told her that he would willingly do it again.
"You don't sacrifice yourself for me, Barton, okay?"
A soft, bloody smile appeared on his face. His hand came up to touch her cheek and she could imagine his words.
"I don't think I'm making it out of this one, Natasha. Don't blame yourself, I chose this."
The next moment his hand was dropping limply to the side of his body and his head was tilting to the side.
"Clint-" She whispered, tapping his face and gripping his shoulder. "Clint!"
His eyes were closed, his skin so pale her heart raced.
Her fingers scrambled for his wrist, her fingers pressing to his pulse point.
There was a soft flutter under her fingers, his pulse weak, fast and erratic as his heart struggled to beat what little blood was left in his body.
"Sir, Hawkeye hasn't got long, his heart is barely beating, he's gonna code soon-" She gasped, her hands shaking.
"On their way, Natasha. I promise."
"I don't think he's going to make it." She whispered, her agony clear in his voice.
"They're on the roof, I'm sending them to your location." Phil said softly. "You're doing great, not long now."
That was when the agents walked into the room to find a frantic Black Widow, screaming over her partner as his heart shuddered to a stop.
Phil met her at the quinjet as the medics swarmed Clint, shouting vitals across t each other.
"Call a code, get the defib over here and get me some goddamn blood!"
Natasha could faintly hear gasping as she slid to her knees in the jet.
Phil was kneeling beside her then, not touching her.
Natasha's breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as she struggled to get air.
"Natasha?" Phil's voice was laced with panic as he reached and took her hands.
"Agent, breathe." He demanded, squeezing her hands.
Natasha heard him through the roaring of her ears and she shakily drew in a breath.
"That's it, Natasha, deep breaths. In and out." Phil murmured.
Her glazed eyes followed the sound of the defibrillator and what little composure she'd gotten back crumbled.
Her vision was beginning to blur as she struggled to get air.
"Natasha?!" Phil shouted, his hands sliding to her shoulders.
There was a soft pinch in the side of her neck and she was slumping forward into Phil's arms, her supervising officer holding her firmly as his eyes found his fallen agent.
Later that day, Natasha came round.
Instead of who was usually beside her when she woke, Phil was sitting there.
Blinking, Natasha pushed herself up, her limbs shaking.
"Phil?" Natasha's soft voice asked him, her tone sounding younger than her years. She was still just a kid, really, her and Clint.
"I'm sorry for sedating you." He said quietly. "You were about to pass out, I had to make a decision."
Had it been anyone else who had dared sedate her, she would've been angry. Furious even.
But she understood his reasoning and she simply nodded, rubbing at the ache in her temples.
"Clint..." She whispered, her big eyes finding his, unshed tears there, waiting to drop at his next words.
"He's alive. You did it, Natasha. If you had been hurt too..." the implications were left unsaid.
Natasha exhaled shakily. "He is?" She whispered.
"Yes. I wouldn't lie to you, Natasha, come on." He said softly.
"I thought for sure...he was gone."
"I know. He...he almost was. You kept him alive until we got there, don't doubt what you did for him, Natasha."
"I need to see him. Can...can I see him?"
"Of course. You're going to be a little shaky from the sedative but yes, absolutely." He murmured.
Natasha nodded and pushed back the blanket covering her.
When Phil next saw Natasha, he was unsurprised to find Natasha curled over Clint. Her cheek was pillowed on his thigh and his hand was encased with hers.
Phil watched from the doorway for a moment, leaning tiredly against the frame. Rules be damned, he decided, those two were made for each other.