Her moment on the ground did not last long. Natasha scooted forward, hands reaching for him. For them. For the bodies of her boys.
"Sh...sher…" Natasha couldn't get his name out as she felt for a pulse along his neck. Nothing. Why was there nothing? There was no familiar pounding, not even a faint tremor she could feel there. Though she tried to deny the fact that Sherlock Holmes' huge heart could ever stop, the facts were there. He was gone. She pressed herself closer, as if she could curl up like a wolf around her dead mate and pup, and linger until her spirit faded too.
Tears fell and she made no move to stop them. Sherlock's head lulled when she tried moving him in search of their child. It was then caught sight of another mop of curly dark hair. Wrapped there in the facade of safety, was their little boy, tucked safe where his father had tried so hard to protect him. Natasha felt down in her very soul this was Sherlock's last attempt to save Sterling, doing whatever he could to fulfill his very last vow.
And yet she couldn't bear to check to see if their five-year-old still drew breath. Deep down she knew it had to be the faintest of hopes that Sterling hadn't succumbed to the fumes too. She would never recover.
However, even in his last conscious action, her beautiful man surprised her. The little bundle shifted. His voice was so very soft, muffled behind something. "Mummy?"
"Sterling." It came like a prayer, a confession, a gasp of relief. Natasha unwrapped her husband from around their son with as much gentleness as she could. His skin was clammy, his hair slightly wet, clothes wrinkled. And on his face was a breathing mask. Oh Sherlock, you amazing man, always prepared, always ahead of the game. How can I do this without you?
She held herself together by nothing but tattered ribbons and the fierce motherly need to hold her little boy. Sherlock's body fell backwards with a quiet thud as Natasha pulled Sterling into her arms. She pinched her eyes closed against the view of Sherlock's lifeless form and drew a deep breath. The air inside the room was stiff, damp with lingering fog, and smelled of chemical death. She couldn't keep Sterling there with Sherlock's body. She couldn't stay either. Time to get out.
About a dozen meters outside the door, she sunk to the ground, cradled Sterling close. The fear that she'd lost both of them had consumed her soul like a wildfire in the last few minutes. Sterling was alive. His heart beat because his father had been there. His stupid beautiful self-sacrificing father had saved him against all odds, and in the process had lost his own life. Nothing Natasha could do or think would take the mingled and utterly agonizing relief away. She would break completely. Later. When she didn't have to worry about the Russian hitmen who'd murdered her husband. Instead, tears trailed down her cheeks while she went over Sterling with wolfish caring. Rough and gentle all at once. Her hands smoothed over his back, she cupped his face, she scanned for wounds, she checked his pulse and his respiratory rate. He seemed fine. Eventually she pulled the mask off his face and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. "It's okay to breathe, no more gas."
"Can I open my eyes now?" Sterling asked quietly. "Daddy said I had to keep them closed whatever happened."
Natasha's throat caught, her words would come out hoarsely. "Yes, baby, you can open your eyes now."
Sterling peeked his green eyes open, only focused on her. He sniffed, gently reaching out to touch her face. "I didn't mean to get taken away. I'm sorry, Mummy."
"We know you didn't mean to, milaya," she whispered, cupping his head and pressing their foreheads together. Totally unknowing that her husband had done the same in the terrifying minutes before he stopped breathing. "But it's not your fault. None of this is your fault, okay?"
Sterling's renewed tears flowed freely now, but he pushed through to get the words out, summoning a strength he'd learned from his parents. "Daddy…said he loves you. And he was…s-sorry. He said…" Sterling hiccuped. "He said it wasn't your fault either. He loves you and loves me, and…and…and that's why he isn't here."
"Baby, I…" Natasha could not hold herself together were simply no more words. She held Sterling close and just cried. Hours could have gone by, there was nothing else she could do. She wanted Sherlock here. She needed him. She needed him to wrap them up and hold them close. She needed him to make a sassy quip about how there was work to do, no time for tears. She needed him to ask if he was doing everything right, and she needed to tell him he'd done everything exactly right and that she'd spend the rest of her life reminding Sterling and herself how much Sherlock meant to them. And how much he'd done for them. Sherlock Holmes had saved so many people in so many ways.
"Natasha!" A new and familiar voice echoed through the metal corridor.
Before she'd even registered the newcomer's identity, she'd pulled out her gun and brought Sterling to her chest forcefully. The intruder couldn't be the only person she wanted to see. That man was dead. Wide teary green eyes, rimmed with red, fixed where she'd leveled the barrel of the gun.
Dressed in his uniform, with his shield on his back, Steve Rogers put both hands in the air, speaking gently to his old partner. "Just me. I promise. We got them, trying to escape the ship, they're not going anywhere. Bucky's covering."
Natasha lowered the gun but did not release Sterling, tucked where he was. He'd gone very silent and still. "Good, because I'm going to put a bullet in their heads."
"You can't-"
"I can, I will," she interrupted, so softly it took Steve off-guard. Like a growl. She glanced down the hall she'd come. "I…I need you to get him. Carry him out. I can't leave him…his body here another minute. He needs to come home now."
Steve didn't need the details. "Okay, I promise. We'll get them out first, before anything else."
Natasha closed her eyed and pressed her lips to Sterling's temple again. She found the strength to stand, gathered from the strands of her broken heart. Sterling couldn't stay here in this damp hellhole forever. She cradled him to her chest, glanced up at Steve, and then disappeared down the hall without a word. Headed for fresh air, bound for the ocean sky overhead and the dark looming future of a world without Sherlock Holmes. Natasha tucked her nose into the crook of Sterling's neck and breathed him in. Her words came next in a rush of air, like a quiet prayer to her angel. I'll never forgive you for leaving me. But thank you for saving him.
Steve Rogers had been called by the now infamous Romanov-Holmes team earlier that day. Emergency situation, child in danger. He and Bucky had been working in Eastern Europe and it hadn't been more than an hour in the quinjet to where Natasha needed them. He didn't even think about hesitating.
There'd been so little information, and by the time they'd gotten there, Sherlock and Natasha were already hot on the trail of the group that had taken Sterling. In the meantime, he had adhered to Sherlock's orders, taking Bucky to track down the hitmen while they went to get their son, in case the men had taken the boy rather than leave him behind. They had been supposed meet again once Sterling was safe or when the kidnappers were found.
Steve hadn't expected to walk into the shaking woman he called a friend. A broken mess, mourning like her world had fallen apart. The boy was alive. That left only one other option as far as mission casualties. Sherlock.
He stepped quietly into the small chamber, coughing out the lingering chemical smell. Sherlock lay on his back with his arms at his sides and legs still crossed. His face was turned away from the door, outlining the sharpness of his cheekbone and nose in the dull white light. Steve took only a single moment of quiet respect before crouching down next to him. The clock still ticked. No time to linger.
Steve's heart hurt, however, in the full knowledge that Natasha had found her 'right partner' against all odds in the slimmest of chances. The right partner was a bit of an ass, but shone like a star. A man on fire. And through the struggles of the last decade of her joining SHIELD, they'd made a life together. He drew a deep breath. Without further hesitation, carefully scooped up Sherlock's lifeless body and carried him out of the airless hell.