Steve climbed over the rubble into the medical room. He glanced over his shoulder at Bucky and Natasha.
"You'd better stay here." He whispered and scrambled over the rocks into the room.
Glancing around he noticed Wanda and Clint, huddled together, facing the wall. Steve ran over to them. As he neared, he saw they were crouched next to Pietro's broken body. The young man looked pale and deathly, unnaturally still as if he was carved of stone, his eyes closed.
"Wanda… Clint?" Steve murmured, kneeling in between them. "I-Is he dead?" He stuttered, fearing the answer.
Wanda shook her head, saying nothing.
As Wanda had appeared to lose her voice, Clint spoke for her. "He's alive… but only just." He added, causing Steve's stomach to do a backflip.
"We had better get him to a recovery room." Steve said; his voice soft.
"Be careful. I think he's broken some ribs." Wanda warned him.
Steve nodded and shuffled forwards, tucking one arm under Pietro legs and another on his back. He picked up Pietro, gently, in his arms. It went without saying that he would be careful. Wanda jumped up, Clint following more slowly as they clambered out of the room. Pietro's right arm dangled limply in the air, free from Steve's hold.
Leaving the room, Clint locked eyes with Bucky. Frozen, memories overwhelming him, Clint stared at the man, his eyes wide. Bucky frowned, confused. Wanda delicately tugged Clint's arm, sensing the fear vibrating off of him in waves.
"Come on." She said, carefully. "Pietro needs us."
Clint shut his eyes, briefly, for no longer than a heartbeat, before opening them again and following Wanda, keeping as far away from Bucky as possible. Natasha, hesitantly, laid her hand on Bucky's shoulder and drew him away.
"I'll find you a room." She murmured.
Bucky glanced at her and smiled, a little sadly. "Without being strapped to a chair?"
The corner of Natasha's mouth twitched in a smile. "I think that can be arranged."
Steve laid Pietro, carefully, on a bed. Wanda and Clint entered the small, square room; grey and windowless. A bed against the left wall, a desk, chairs tucked under it, against the right. Ducking his head to the others, Steve left the room, casting a final glance at them over his shoulder. Clint arranged two chairs beside the bed, sitting in the one closest to Pietro's head. He rested his head in his hand, his eyes fixed on the young man. Wanda sat on the other chair with a sigh.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" She murmured, half to herself.
Clint looked at her, his face expressionless. "Yes."
Wanda opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a quiet moan from Pietro. She leapt up, sitting on the edge of her brother's bed. As she stroked a strand of hair out of his face, he reached up and took hold of her hand. He rested it on his chest, where his heart was and put his hand on his sister's. The steady beat of it calmed Wanda. Pietro blinked open his eyes, drowsily, looking up at his sister.
"Hey." She greeted him, quietly.
"Hey." He whispered.
Wanda smiled and lifted her brother's hand, pressing it against her cheek. She closed her eyes and Pietro stroked his hand down her cheek.
"Where's Clint?" He asked.
"I'm here." Clint murmured, leaning forwards.
Pietro turned his head to the side, so he was facing him, and smiled, weakly. "Second time." He whispered.
Clint grinned. "I know. You'd better let me catch up."
"No chance." Pietro replied, quietly.
Clint frowned, unsure if Pietro was being competitive or if he was saying Clint would not get a chance. "Pietro…"
"Am I going to die?" Pietro asked bluntly. "Please just answer me truthfully."
"No. Of course you're not going to die." Wanda whispered, barely stopping her voice from shaking.
Pietro kept his eyes on Clint. The archer decided it would be best not to lie.
"There's still a chance you could." He began, ignoring Wanda hissing his name in a warning. "But you won't, because we won't let you."
Pietro let out a tiny exhale of laughter. "I-if its time then there's nothing you can do." He stuttered in a hushed voice.
Clint started to assure him that he would be alright but stopped himself as Pietro's eyes began to close. He sighed quietly as his eyelids fluttered shut. His body relaxed, his hand falling limp in Wanda's. Turning his face to Wanda, Clint cast her a worried glance.
He had never heard someone so acceptant to death, so ready. But Pietro's not going to die, he told himself stubbornly. If he can live through a billion bullets, then he can survive being crushed by a couple of rocks. Memories he tried so hard to forget, but never could, blossomed in his mind. A familiar feeling spread through Clint's heart. A kind of tugging that always appeared when he thought of the battle in Sokovia.
It was grief.
Pure sorrow at the memory of seeing Pietro, lying on the ground, dark blood gushing from his wounds.
His, white, pale face cut and dirty.
The young child, staring in shock at the man who had died to save him.
His eyes had been open, but glassy, unblinking.
He was dead. He had died.
"Clint?"
Clint opened his eyes at the sound of Wanda's voice. Taking several deep, gulping breaths, he tried to calm himself. Realising he was shaking, he hugged himself around the waist, rocking back and forwards slightly on the chair. He had never experienced anything like this before.
"Clint, are you ok?" Wanda said his name again, slightly raising her voice. She sounded worried.
Clint suddenly froze, his eyes fixed on Pietro.
It was too easy to imagine his body littered with bullet wounds. Too easy to picture him, dying in Clint's arms.
Clint leapt off the chair, making Wanda squeal in shock.
"I-I can't…" He began, stuttering. "I'm sorry."
He sprinted out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
