Author's note: I'm posting the next chapter in honour of 1 YEAR of the fic! HAve you been here since the start? Please leave a review letting me know what you think, where you imagine this story going, or any constructive criticism at all!
WARNING: some kind of graphic descriptions below, and also please note, I am NOT a doctor or a medical professional, so I apologies in advance for any mistakes! Here's the very, very long awaited angst. I hope I did this scene justice, I've been planning it was a WHILE!
Three hours ago.
"Steve, are you okay? Clint? Stark?"
Static. Wanda felt her nerves creeping back. This was a little too spooky for her.
"Argh, curse this rain! It must be messing with the comms!" said Natasha, but she didn't sound too bothered. She shot Wanda a glance, "Guess we're doing this the analogue way - also known as the fun way."
"Romanoff...the...is...clear...in this...I...roof go." Wanda heard Steve's disembodied voice in her ear. Weird.
"Did you hear Steve?" she asked.
"Hear, yes. Understand, no. Let's go."
Wanda tried to shake the uneasiness off and followed the redhead into the dark…
The warehouse was a large open space, broken up with haphazardly built shelving stretching from the floor to the ceiling, with large wooden crates stacked randomly on these shelves and on the ground. One end of the warehouse was split into a second, loft-like floor, with a rickety ladder leading up to the raised balcony section.
Natasha padded across the dusty floor on silent, practised feet, and Wanda slinked behind her, direction this ladder. Natasha paused suddenly, and ducked behind a larger crate. Wanda crouched down too, holding her breath. She could hear her heart thumping in her ears, and it was so quiet she was afraid Natasha could hear it too.
Natasha whispered, "all clear?"
Wanda used her powers to sweep the warehouse, and sensed someone, or something else close by.
"We're not alone." she said quietly, nervously.
"Let's hope Steve deals with that." said Natasha, tilting her head direction up. "They're up here. Let's do it quick."
Wanda followed, anxiety flooding her senses, as they climbed up the ladder, quick and quiet. Natasha swung herself up the last rung with ease, her motions fluid and easy. She glanced back at Wanda and smiled, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.
"It's these ones." said Natasha, gesturing to three large crates, their sides stamped with HYDRA's insignia. A shiver ran Wanda's spine, memories threatening to overwhelm her. Memories of experimentation, and pain, and then power.
Natasha understood what she was thinking, and gently placed a hand on Wanda's.
"Look, we did it. A lot of stress over nothing huh? Now that we have these, we can make sure they're not abused. We might have to keep them away from Stark though," she smirked.
Wanda felt herself smiling back, relief bubbling in her chest.
"Since the comms aren't working, I could probably, um, levitate these back to the quinjet?" she asked hesitantly.
Natasha's eyebrow quirked upwards, and she nodded, impressed.
"Good idea."
And then, everything happened so fast.
There was a loud THUMP from outside, and everything shook. Natasha pushed Wanda over harshly, and Wanda fell over onto the flimsy balcony floor.
"Natasha!?" she complained, annoyed, getting to her feet.
But Natasha was just standing. Still. Looking upwards at the rafters with a weird look on her face.
"Natasha..?"
Natasha turned slowly, her hand snaking up to her side. Her hand came away red. She gasped and looked at Wanda, and Wanda saw it on her face. Fear.
"Wanda." she whispered.
And then Natasha was stumbling, her legs giving away, and she was arching, falling backwards, and the loft's railing was weak and rotten, and Natasha fell on it, and then through it and Wanda was rushing forwards, and her hand was missing Natasha's outstretched one, and Wanda's powers weren't working because DAMN IT YES IT'S NATASHA BUT COME ON LEVITATE LEVITATE LEVITATE!
And Natasha's body flew through the air and landed with a sickening crash on the ground down below.
"NATASHA" she screamed, scrambling manically down the ladder, falling down the last few rungs, tripping over her feet in the haste to see, to check, and she was crashing down on her knees next to Natasha's completely still form. The breath caught in her throat, as she frantically searched for a pulse.
"Natasha, come on. Oh Nat, stay with me. Stay calm." Was she taking to Natasha or herself?
Natasha's eyes were closed. She had landed awkwardly, trapping one hand under her slight frame in an unnatural angle. Wanda fumbled to find a pulse on her other hand. There was no pulse. Wanda couldn't breathe, it couldn't be that she was… Natasha was… Wanda couldn't even THINK it.
Hands shaking, she desperately pressed her fingers against her neck, under her pointed chin, and thank GOD, it was there, but oh god it was weak and feeble, very pulse flickering like a candle about to extinguish. Wanda didn't know what to do, all her hours of first aid training in the field with Steve flown out of her mind, because there was so much blood, pooling underneath Natasha, a beautiful, glistening ruby red, mocking Wanda, staining her hands, her clothes, Natasha's black catsuit, Natasha's hair, and Natasha wasn't conscious, and was even even breathing, oh was she even breathing?!
Wanda carefully, gently, with trembling fingers, pushed Natasha hair out her face, just as Natasha began to retch. It was an awful, ugly grating sound as she coughed and coughed, her back arching, blood and phlegm trickling out as she fought to draw another breath, and Wanda was thumping her back, rolling her over to her side, was this the recovery position?, and Natasha was still wheezing, her eyelids flickering, her face contorting in a horrible grimace of pain.
"Wake up Natasha! Just open your eyes and WAKE UP! Tell me what to do! Please! I don't know what to DO!" Wanda was crying, panicked.
She tried to apply some pressure to the wound on Natasha's ribcage, and she pressed down hard and Natasha hissed, her eyes flickering, her breaths now short and fast, and she was shaking uncontrollably. They were both shaking uncontrollably.
"Oh Nat, please, come on, stay with me."
She didn't know what else to do. Natasha was so pale, and there was so so so much blood, so red on the floor, on her clothes, and the tears were blurring her vision, and she was clutching Natasha carefully like a child clutching a doll, except Natasha was very very real, and she was dying in Wanda's arms, and it was Pietro all over again, except it was slower, and this was Natasha, strong, magnificent, infallible Natasha who had given Wanda so much in a time when she had so little.
Wanda bowed her head, gripping tighter, tears dripping off her nose, and she thought this was it. This was how the Black Widow died. Because Wanda was unable to save her. Curse HYDRA for giving her powers to hurt, to maim, to torture, to kill, but how to use her powers to heal, to help, to save life? She yelled in sorrow and frustration, as an awful roaring started outside of the warehouse.
Natasha's pain-filled, delusional POV
"Natasha, stay calm." She heard Wanda's accented tones from somewhere to her side.
Natasha was in the dark.
Backstage, she thought to herself.
She smiled at Wanda, why was she worrying? She had done this before. It was just another ballet recital. This is what the Red Room had prepared her for after all.
She shot one of her lazy grins in her direction, and glided into the middle of the stage, just as the music started and she began to dance. The haunting trills of Tchaikovsky filled the air as she leaped and
THUD
Landed hard.
And the stage was cracking, because it wasn't polished wood, it was ice.
Ice.
Crack. Crack.
Crack.
And it broke, exposing water underneath.
No longer was Natasha in the Royal Opera Hall, but on a lake, and she was falling
D
O
W
N
Underwater.
She felt her mouth opening and screaming and bubbling as a momentous pain ripped through her every muscle.
Hands were reaching for her, but it was too late, she was hurtling through the air, with no parachute , and next to her were the Avengers.
"Steve? Wanda? Tony? Bruce?! Clint?"
They turned to face her, eyes blank and unseeing, blood dripping from their temples as they fell into coffins, neatly arranged in a row. Natasha could do nothing but watch as the lids were slammed shut.
"NO! NO! PLEASE, I"m SORRY! I'm SO SORRY!"
"Nat, come on," said a red-haired woman, appearing in another coffin, beckoning to the last, empty, casket.
"Mama?" Whispered Natasha.
"Come on sweetheart, me and Daddy are waiting."
"Mama?" She cried out, "Tata?!"
She woman smiled. "You killed us all. Now it's your turn."
"NOOO, PLEASE, NO! Don't go, don't die, not the Avengers, please. Take me instead! ONLY ME!
Clint! CLINT?"
He had opened his coffin and had a gun in his hand, in place of his bow. His pale face that she knew so well started to melt, exposing the metal carcass of Ultron underneath.
"Ultron?"
BANG.
He shot her right in the heart.
Wanda's POV
Natasha began to stir suddenly, and then she was groaning and whimpering and a scream escaped her lips, and she was screaming and screaming and it was echoing and echoing in the cavernous space, a guttural sound that ripped at Wanda's heart, and she could feel the pain oozing out of Natasha like smoke. No, it was smoke. Smoke?
"What!? NO! Nonononononononono! Please?! What?! Natasha!?" shrieked Wanda, because the smoke was putrid and tinged red and it was escaping slowly from Natasha's rib cage, where the bullet had entered, and from her blood-soaked back, where it had left, and it smelt like burning flesh, and Wanda was gagging and it was stinging her face and her hands, but she couldn't let go of Natasha, she wouldn't and Natasha was still crying out, a low, helpless moan trickling like the blood from Natasha's lips.
"Shhh, please Natasha, please stop. It's okay. It'll be okay."
But Natasha didn't answer her, she was thrashing and Wanda was holding her and rocking her slowly, the desperate, weakening body of her friend.
"Natasha. Natasha." She was muttering under her breath. "You will be okay. You must be okay," she sniffed, "you can't not be okay Nat, you can't."
Natasha was still squirming in agony, and now she began to cry, tears leaving tracks in her blood smudged face. And then she was yelling.
"Mama! Tata!" the words were being ripped from her, her voice stripped down to a little girl's begging for her parents.
"Mama! NO! Please! пожалуйста!"
"Shh, please Natasha, " pleaded Wanda, she couldn't hear this any more.
"CLINT!" Natasha screamed, her head lolling back, and her breathing was pained and raspy and loud, coming in quick, rapid pants, and then Natasha murmed "Wanda," and was silent.
"Natasha?"
"Natasha? NATASHA?!" hollered Wanda, her self control ripped away, and she felt her powers rising up, and out of her, and out and OUT and everything was red and there was a great groaning outside getting LOUDER.
And then she felt a sharp smack on the back of her head, and she slumped backwards, letting the black consume her.
пожалуйста - Please in Russian
Phew, well, that chapter was a bit of a mess. Natasha getting seriously injured is never a good thing...