Chapter 1: Sacrifice

Things were not looking pretty. The town was a mess, half destroyed, and it was a lucky thing they had managed to evacuate all the civilians before the fight got too bad. This band of Hydra goons were ruthless, and their little alien sidekicks weren't helping matters. How these agents had made friends with aliens was beyond Pietro, and he didn't really want to know. Honestly, he rather wished he could go back to the blissful ignorance of the day before when Vision was still the weirdest being Pietro was aware of. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. These aliens existed and the Avengers had to fight them.

Pietro knocked a pair of Hydra agents off their feet and rounded a corner, stopping a moment to catch his breath. This was a mistake. An explosion went off behind him and the remains of the building he was leaning against began to fall. Pietro swore under his breath and started to run, dodging huge chunks of brick that fell like rain around him. Suddenly, a huge metal beam crashed down in front of him, blocking his path. He scrambled to a halt, loosing his footing in his haste and falling to the ground. He looked up at the falling building – even he couldn't get out of there fast enough now. Covering his head with his arms, he curled himself into a ball, hoping to protect as much of his body as possible from being crushed. Then the building crashed down around him.

The dust began to settle and Pietro lifted his head, finally daring to try and escape. He seemed to be unscathed except for a few cuts and bruises that would probably heal in a few hours. He slowly started to crawl through the wreckage and suddenly gasped in pain. A raw burning ache seared through his thigh and he looked down to inspect the damage. There was a deep, ugly wound there, dark with blood. Okay, that one would take a little longer to heal. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he started crawling again.

"Maximoff? Maximoff, are you okay?" Sam's voice crackled through the comm.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Pietro panted. "I'm alive."

Several excruciating minutes alter, Pietro finally emerged from the ruins. He tried to stand, but his injured leg wouldn't hold his weight. Frustrated, he fell back to his knees and looked up to see three Hydra agents, all aiming their guns at him. And he couldn't run away. As if in slow motion, he saw their fingers inch toward the triggers. This was it? This was how he was going to die, wounded and trapped like a hunted animal? Pietro's mind flew to Wanda, to Clint... he wouldn't get to say goodbye, they'd just find him lying there with three bullets in his head. His heart beat wildly as if in defiance of its quickly approaching end and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to watch the bullets as they came for him.

"No!" a familiar voice screamed.

Then the guns went off. Pietro flinched, waiting for the impact, but it never came. He opened his eyes and a pain worse than bullets tore through him. Standing between Pietro and the gunmen was Clint. Pietro's heart dropped like a stone and everything around him went numb as Clint staggered slightly and fell to the ground. The Hydra men were still there, guns still aiming at Pietro, but he didn't care. He crawled to Clint's side, hands shaking as he tried foolishly to cover up the bullet holes, to stop the bleeding.

"You didn't see that coming?" Clint whispered weakly, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No, don't you dare," Pietro said. "Don't you pull that on me."

Like he needed reminding of what this looked like, of that day in Sokovia...

"Please, Clint, don't do this to me," he begged, but it was no use.

Clint had gone still, his eyes staring blankly at the cloudless sky.

"No," Pietro said, his voice choked with tears. "No no no, please, wake up, you can't do this, please..."

"Pietro?"

He looked up and found Steve and Tony standing over him. The three Hydra agents were dead on the ground. He hadn't even heard it happen. Steve stepped forward and laid a hand on Pietro's shoulder.

"Come on," he said. "We're done here. It's time to go."

"No, I can't leave him," Pietro said.

"I never said we were leaving him. But we need to go," said Steve.

He tightened his grip on Pietro's shoulder, but Pietro roughly shrugged his hand away.

"Pietro, please..."

"No," Pietro sobbed. "He can't be dead, he can't be. You have to bring him back, please."

"I can't," said Steve; he had never sounded so small and defeated.

Pietro collapsed onto Clint's chest, too overcome with sobs to plead anymore.

"Wanda, we need you on sixth," Tony said into the comms.

"On my way," she replied.

A minute later, Pietro felt a comfortingly familiar hand on his back.

"Pietro, it's me," Wanda murmured gently. "We need to leave. The quinjet is on its way. You can't stay here. I know how much it hurts, brother, I can feel your pain inside my head. But you have to get up."

Pietro took a few deep, trembling breaths. Having his sister there calmed him, gave him comfort in a way no one else could. Slowly, he pushed himself up, blinking the lingering tears from his eyelashes. Wanda took his arm and helped him to his feet. Pietro gasped as the pain in his injured pain came rushing back, clinging to her shoulder to keep from falling. Wanda caught him and let him lean his weight against her. Steve leaned down and lifted Clint's body into his arms, then they slowly boarded the quinjet. Wanda helped Pietro into a seat, then knelt at his side to inspect his wound. Tony took over the pilot's chair and they began the ride home.