"There are worse ways to go…"
Prologue
It happened in a blink of an eye. Her face relaxed for a moment, her brow no longer furled, her hands rebounding into something more natural than the elongated way she had held them since they found her. He didn't dare to breathe because he was so absurdly grateful in that moment that she was her that he was scared to risk even moving and shattering the illusion.
"Steve?"
And that did it. Not Rogers or Cap but Steve. Her green eyes locked on to his before darting about the space, fearfully scanning the area and he couldn't help but wish Barton would put down his bow and that Stark would take off the suit and let her breathe. She was Nat. "Hey, it's ok. We've got you. I've got you. You're safe, " he reminded her again.
"Safe," she repeated.
Steve let a whoosh of a held breath pass through his lips, exhaling some of the fear that had been compounding in his stomach since that arrow came through his window. She was safe. It hadn't been too late. This wasn't going to be like the battle over the Potomac. No matter what lies he had been self medicating with deep down his heart knew couldn't take losing her as well. The corners of his lips began to draw up. 'It was going to be okay,' and yet before he could even smile at her all hell broke lose.
It all happened so fast, too fast and too surreal for his mind to fully comprehend what he was seeing. Natasha was there one moment and gone the next, a unseen wave jolting through her and her eyes turning hollow and deadly.
"Shit!" Clint reacted before Steve could even fully digest that she was gone again. The temporarily relief and the sudden loss battling in his brain, crashing against each other and refusing to fit into any kind of sense. Her elbow jutted out sharply, catching Clint off guard and snapping his head back with a sickening wet crunch to his nose. It was mere seconds until he recovered but it was enough for her to have position herself away from the barre, giving her more space to maneuver. Clint's arm drew back instinctively, the arrow still notched and aimed at Natasha, blood pouring from his nose and over his lips.
"Don't!" Steve wasn't sure if the word actually made a sound or if it died in his throat. It was so loud in his head, so wrong.
Natasha grabbed madly for the arrow that Clint held still resting against the bowstring, aimed at her. She was a wild animal, scrambling teeth and claws with no trace of the grace Steve had known her to exhibit in every mission, every training session, every movement. Clint levered his weight back hard, his nose spattering blood as he yanked the arrow away breaking any tentative grip she had. His bow clamoured to the floor as Steve threw himself between the two of them, bracing for an assault from either side.
"Nat, no!" The cry was not his own and Steve turned and saw the anguish on Clint's face, like someone had managed to shatter his world. He could relate. 'Not again. Not again! Not like with Bucky... '
Steve was the closest to her and he reflexively prepared for her assault, knees bending ever so slightly, weight placed on the balls of his feet, but the attack never came. Instead, she turned and ran. He followed, closing the space quickly, mentally calculating how many steps to the door and how with the least amount of force he could intercept her but she veered sharply to the left, catching him off guard. He could only watch helplessly as she dove head first through the pane glass window, wood splintering and glass shattering as she plummeted out of the seven story window with nothing but the pavement below to break her fall.
To Be Continued...