It happened too quickly for anyone to react. A single moment stretched out before them, frozen. A point in time and space plucked out by the hand of a god and held aloft for inspection. Infinity held in the palm of a hand, yet neither eternity nor an hour could bring the moment back. Ultimately, the chain of events was unpredictable, the sequence seemingly so random there was just no preparation which would have been in any way adequate. When the realisation finally came they had simply arrived a moment too late. A beat of a butterfly's wing in Brazil ripped through a kindergarten in Texas. It was only later, much later, when the wings had stilled that the extent of the chaos was exposed. There had been a web, so tangled and so far-reaching that each strand appeared barely connected. The combination of players involved and choices they could make was almost limitless. Many of those choices would have resulted in actions so harmless or subtle they may well have gone unnoticed and no pattern would ever have been revealed. It just so happened that on this occasion, this particular combination of people and choices had sparked a reaction so refined it boiled down to the wiping of a single family out of existence, the youngest member being a kindergartener.
When the god let go, the moment fell and the world shuddered back into life. The previous slice of silence which had pervaded as time was held immobile was replaced by the single and sudden thump of a bomb being detonated.
Several hours later, when the penetrating din had faded to an intangible buzz of shock two members of the team staggered back to the epicentre, regrouping in a classroom, standing face to face, their bodies too large amongst the child-sized furniture.
"You with Natasha?" Steve asked casually, looking to his partner for confirmation.
"I thought she was with you." Clint responded, his demeanour changing from wrecked to alert in an instant.
Steve straightened, reaching for his earpiece. "Romanoff? Do you copy?"
Nothing. He tried a few more times but got no response.
They had both unconsciously tensed during the exchange, or lack thereof. She was probably safe, probably fine. Maybe just a dodgy comms unit. She'd handled worse. She'd be fine though. Might be trapped. She'd walk it off. They shared a look. A kindergarten. Drakov's daughter. The Children's Ward.
"I'll go." Clint said tightly.
He eventually found her in a nursery. He had almost completed his search of the damaged room and moved off – it was so far beyond repair there weren't many places a person, not even their spider, could have been hiding. Or buried. It was only a flash of blue amongst the dusty grey which made him take a closer look. It was a neon pulse from her tac suit which had given him the lifeline. No, he had that wrong, it wasn't a pulse, it was a shake. The closer he got to her the clearer her outline became, though she had yet to register his arrival despite facing in his direction. He found her crouching beneath two sections of wall which had collapsed inwards against each other, settling in a 'V' just over her head. Her body was hunched in protection, one arm wrapped in front of her and the other above her, pushing up against the concrete, steel rebar and drywall. When he finally registered what she was doing he lurched into action, stumbling across the strewn furniture and rubble, racing forwards to take the weight of the masonry she was somehow managing to keep propped up with a single hand. As he went to grab she flinched, curling in on herself even more. There was no expression on her face to signify any distress though he knew her current position must be putting her through excruciating agony. It was then that he realised the reason for her defensive posture. Protected beneath her body, cradled in her other hand was a child. A small, unmoving, redheaded little girl.
"Oh Nat." He whispered, stepping quietly towards her and kneeling down. "It's okay." He coaxed. "We'll get her out I promise."
She still hadn't acknowledged him, though at his words a heart-rending sob burst out of her, causing her to shake.
Worried, he cast his eyes to the precariously balanced rubble above the pair as her shaking caused another fall of dust and debris. He pivoted away from her slightly, speaking quietly into his comms "Cap, I need you in the nursery. At the back. Bring a blanket."
Rocking back towards her he slowly held his hands out beside him so she could see he meant no harm. Her grip on the child was unwavering. He didn't know whether she had found the girl this way, or had been there to comfort her at the end. It didn't matter. He knew she would feel guilty either way. The guilt of her own survival weighed heavily on her every day – had she not been a coward, had she not been too scared to give up and die when they broke her apart, hundreds, maybe thousands of innocents would have lived to see another day. Instead she had lived to be responsible for decades of blood and was still too weak to even save one little girl who looked so much like her long ago. She was here, and they were not.
To his credit, Steve tiptoed into the room, eliciting a small smile from Clint who was still crouched in front of his partner, soothing her into allowing him to help take the weight of rubble which was pressing ever closer to her with every shudder of her body. Regardless of her own sheer determination, her enhancements could not hold the walls up indefinitely. She would have to make a choice – either let Clint in, or let them fall. Based on the amount of effort it had taken to get Natasha to work as part of a team when she first joined SHIELD and the rocky first months of his own experiences as one half of Strike Team Delta Clint wouldn't put it past her, especially in her current state, to attempt to independently recover the child and clear the rubble.
"Hi Tash." Steve offered, stopping slightly further away so as not to crowd her. He passed the blanket to Clint and slipped to one side, moving his focus to the girder shifting ominously under Natasha's trembling hand.
"Can we help Natasha? Please?" Clint asked, but this only brought another sob and shake of the head.
"She's safe now. You've kept her safe and looked after her, but we need to move her now."
She was at war. He could see it on her face. The tears were falling. Her body was shaking. She knew she would have to let go. But her mouth was set to a thin line and her eyes were hard and blazing. She could not let go. She would not fail another child again.
"Please Natasha?" He was becoming desperate, constantly flitting between her and the rubble, assessing how long they had left before himself and Steve would be forced to make the decision for her. "We know you are going to keep her safe, we just want to get you both somewhere nicer. Would that be okay? She deserves to be somewhere nice Tasha." His voice cracked as he practically begged her to let him in.
Whatever battle was raging internally must have reached some sort of climax because she stiffened and went completely still. Time stopped again and Clint felt his heart stop alongside it. Mercifully only a few seconds passed before she exhaled slowly and blinked vaguely in his direction.
"Blanket." She whispered hoarsely.
"It's right here." Clint answered, shifting forwards on his knees to lay the fleecey square on the floor beneath Natasha's arm.
With a final choking sob she moved down to place the child on the blanket. As her arm relaxed she let out a low keening cry and shut her eyes. Fearing what would happen next Steve used the moment to move forwards and brace the rubble, grunting as he rearranged the structure into something more stable. With the child wrapped and laid delicately to one side Clint looked up at Steve and at his nod, reached out to Natasha to let go. Slowly, he watched as she brought her raised arm down and held it to her chest. It must have been cramping, it must have been agony, but there was again no reaction. Pulling her close, Clint stood them both up, one hand on her hair as she tucked her head into his shoulder.
"I know." He reassured. "She is safe now. You did a good job."
Steve found her by their pond. She looked small and dishevelled in the twilight, bundled into a set of Clint's sweats which covered her hands and feet completely. There were patches of damp over the light grey sweatshirt and her hair was dripping down her back. He sat down beside her, simply offering the comfort of his presence. She smiled weakly into the silence, pleased he hadn't tried to bring forth any asinine advice or platitudes. No matter how well-meaning she knew he was being, the words were not welcome right now.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore." She whispered eventually, bringing her knees up to her chest.
There was something so child-like and innocent about the gesture, the long sleeves hanging down off her arms that made Steve forget what she had been through over the decades.
"You did the right thing today you know?"
"She died Steve." She responded flatly, not believing him.
"You kept her safe Natasha. Because of you she is back with her parents. She will be loved and she will be remembered because you didn't leave her behind."
Her next words came flatter still. "I was left behind."
"She will always be loved. As will you."
"I'm meant to be one of the good guys now, but it never feels that way."
He turned to face her. "You are. I know you're tired and it doesn't feel that way right now, but I promise you, you are a good guy. We need you. Her parents needed you."
She acknowledged his words by gently laying her head on his shoulder. "She had the whole world ahead of her."
He knew she wasn't just referring to the little girl.
"I know." He replied softly.