Chapter 26


"No!"

Natasha's anguished scream was almost drowned out by the roar of hundreds of tons of concrete and steel crashing to the ground like an avalanche.

A vice-like, crushing grip tightened around my chest, preventing me from uttering a sound.

A wave of dust and debris moved towards us from the collapsing building, but Natasha didn't seem to notice it. Shock had frozen her in place.

I pulled her into my arms and crouched down with my back to the coming danger, trying to cover her body and my own head as best I could. There was nothing close enough to shelter behind in time.

Within seconds the shockwave hit us, a wall of heat and choking concrete dust. Bits of stone pelted my back and shoulders, and what little light there had been before vanished.

Almost instantly I felt Natasha begin to cough, and after a time my own lungs refused to take no for an answer and I was forced to breathe in the polluted air. My throat burned like I'd inhaled fire and I coughed too. Fine grit stung my eyes, causing tears to run down my face.

After a while – I wasn't sure how long – the rain of debris lessened enough that I judged it safe to move. Emergency vehicle lights flickered faintly through the murky haze to the right, so I pulled Natasha to her feet and we headed in that direction, stumbling on rubble and coughing dryly. My back ached from the pounding it had taken.

A torch's beam found us as we emerged into clearer air, and then we were being crowded by police and EMTs.

I raised a hand to forestall their questions, speaking in Russian. My words came out weakly, interspersed with more coughing. "The hotel was bombed. The man who did it is dead. There were eight other people inside. We got out on time."

Rescue workers raced off towards the destroyed hotel while Natasha and I were led to one of the newly-arrived ambulances further down the street and told to sit still while we were assessed for injuries. Both of us were given oxygen masks and I held mine over my mouth and nose, taking deep breaths of the clean air. It did nothing to relieve the pressure within my chest.

Beside me, Natasha sat motionless as a medic fixed two Steri-Strips over a cut above her eyebrow. She seemed dazed. Tears slid silently down her cheeks, leaving clean streaks through the grime on her skin.

I tried not to think about the cause of her grief. I wasn't ready to face reality. I took another breath. In and out, slow and steady. Then do it again.

Natasha let out a sob and something seemed to tear apart inside me, leaving a hollow cavity where my heart should have been. I couldn't pretend this was okay. I was so tired of losing people, so sick of death. My eyes burned but the tears wouldn't come.

"They've found a body."

I don't know who delivered the message, but several of the EMTs immediately headed towards the ruins of the hotel and I knew I had to follow. If I didn't face the truth, I'd never be able to move on.

And if I didn't move on, I'd break.

The remaining medic didn't try to stop me as I got up and moved back towards the mountain of rubble. Natasha didn't seem to notice my departure.

The breeze had mostly dispersed the dust cloud by now and floodlights had been set up to illuminate the area until the sun rose.

As I neared the collapsed building, I saw a couple of rescue workers pick up a stretcher bearing the body of an ISID agent. I looked away quickly, stomach churning. Did I really want to be here? What if the next body to be found was Clint's, lifeless and crushed beyond recognition? The thought made me want to throw up.

But if there was one thing I'd learnt from Steve, it was that if you knew what the right thing to do was, you did it – regardless of the cost. And right now that meant helping in any way I could.

So I took a steadying breath and started forward again.


We found four more bodies over the course of the hour. The second ISID agent to be pulled from the rubble was unconscious but still breathing. His hold on life was already too weak though, and he died only a few minutes after being found.

Any slight hope I had that Clint might still be alive slipped away, but I continued to work with the rescue team, clearing away any of the rubble that was too heavy for anyone else so they could search beneath it. It was tiring work, and my bruised back only got more painful as the search stretched on, but I didn't stop. Being busy kept the thoughts and emotions at bay.

Part of the ISID team from Rogan's base arrived with the dawn. I filled them in on what had happened. They told me that they'd found one of their men dead and missing his uniform back at the base. The man who had set off the bomb had been one of Rogan's in disguise.

The agents joined in with the recovery mission, and I went in search of Natasha.

I found her sitting on the footpath beside an ambulance, her back pressed against a hotel's brick wall. She looked lost and small, so different from her usual self. She'd stopped crying, but her eyes were red-rimmed.

I sat down beside her, aware of the tourists with their phones out just beyond the barriers set up by the police. People loved tragedy, I thought bitterly. Those who'd never faced it got a kick out of watching others go through it.

Natasha sniffed, wiping her nose with the cuff of her sleeve. "Have they found him yet?"

"Not when I left. There's two others still missing as well."

She nodded. "I saw ISID arrive." She didn't look up as she spoke.

"They say the bomber was one of Rogan's men."

"Figures."

There was a long silence.

"I should have gotten to him long before the bomb was set," I said at last. It was a thought that had been weighing on me ever since the explosion. "I could have been fast enough."

Natasha turned her head to look at me. "You didn't know he was an enemy. And besides, I'm the one who shot the only person who could turn off the bomb."

I gave a slight shake of my head. "There wouldn't have been time."

"Maybe." She looked away again. I stared at her profile as fresh tears trickled down her face, sparkling in the light of the rising sun. It was a beautiful morning.

I wished it wasn't.

"I don't blame you," Natasha said huskily. "For pulling me out. You saved my life. I just wish–" She broke off, stifling a sob. Her shoulders shook.

I didn't know what to do. Right now, I almost wished I could retreat into the Winter Soldier, with no memories or emotions to deal with.

"They've found a survivor!"

The cry went up from near the disaster site, and both Natasha and I turned to look in that direction as the message to the watching crowd continued. "It's the Avenger!"

My heart skipped a beat as I met Natasha's wide-eyed gaze. Together we surged to our feet and ran toward the rubble, where a group of searchers and medics were gathering.

The group parted to let us through and I caught sight of the unconscious figure on a stretcher, surrounded by EMTs. It was Clint, but he looked a mess.

Natasha staggered to a stop when she saw him, putting a hand over her mouth to stop from crying out. I put my normal arm around her shoulders. After seeing the others, I'd been somewhat prepared for this sight. I could only imagine what Natasha felt seeing her best friend like this.

I could tell at a glance that Clint's legs and left arm were broken, and his nose didn't look in much better shape. Cuts and burns covered most of his exposed skin and his clothes were stained with blood.

The faint feeling of hope I'd felt at seeing him alive was tempered by the knowledge that he could slip away at any moment. Silently, I willed him to hang on as the medics put an oxygen mask over his face and checked his pulse.

"We found him in a clear pocket under a steel beam," one of the rescue workers behind me said to his partner. "Heaven only knows if he'll make it."

I gave Natasha's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as the medics lifted the stretcher and carried Clint towards the nearest ambulance. I could tell Natasha wanted to follow as the ambulance started off down the street with a wail of its sirens, but the police had decided it was time to get some answers out of us.

Natasha forestalled their questions by holding up her ISID badge. "I know you want answers," she said in a surprisingly strong voice, "but you'll have to talk to my superiors if you want them." She gave them a phone number I assumed was for Hendricks or one of his people and we moved away from the rubble as the last of the lifeless bodies were recovered.