We'll Fight Together (Romanogers / Steve X Natasha)

Sifting Through The Rubble

Natasha came to, her ears ringing like fire alarms in her skull and her head spinning like a top. Dazed, she struggled to regain her bearings. When they returned, however, she couldn't believe the sight before her: the brick walls crumbled where the explosion ran through, half of the floor had collapsed, Natasha falling with it, and the door was now blocked by debris. Glancing at what was left of the floor above, she spotted Clea. Lying on the edge, the teen shuddered as electrical surges continued to infiltrate her nerves. Though, they seemed significantly weaker now as Clea began to telekinetically pull the bullet from her body. Sam was up now too; he ran to Clea's aid before looking down at Natasha. Then, his eyes darting around the room, he questioned, "Where's Steve?"

Whirling around to face the mountain of debris behind her, Natasha's chest tightened. Immediately, she scuttled towards the detritus, bending forth and clawing at the wreckage with her bare hands. The stones cut into her flesh, but she didn't care. Sam flew down beside her and began to do the same. Above them, a half-conscious Clea tore at the concrete slabs, removing them one by one.

While it was only a matter of minutes, it felt like eternity to Natasha. She couldn't shake the image of the crushed, comatose Steve that lay beneath her. Trying to calm herself, she remembered his sleepy face at the Crossvile Motel and how happy he looked beside her. But the memory quickly twisted and his peaceful face morphed into a bruised, bloodied version of itself that resembled how the he looked after his fight with Bucky on the last helicarrier. She recalled how broken he looked back then, and how she had stayed in his hospital room countless nights before she had to leave and testify before the press regarding S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets. Her only regret is that she wasn't there when he woke up...

"Natasha-" Sam barely got the word out before she bounded over to inspect whatever he had found. She spotted a hand and immediately dove into the wreckage, uncovering the man lying beneath. Mere moments later, she was face-to-face with Steve once more.

His shield was lying next to him, meaning he did the best he could to protect himself from the explosion. His face and neck were, as expected, littered with cuts and bruises– a result of the falling concrete. He looked horrible, but not as bad as Natasha had feared. Her heart hammering like a drum, she quickly checked his pulse. It was steady, but that didn't stop her from breaking into tears.

Ever since Bruce vanished, Natasha had decided to put love on the farthest back-burner she could reach, no matter how badly she longed for it. She spent an entire year trying to get over him, and the moment she finally succeeded just so happened to be when the Accords were being discussed. She had Steve to thank for that, honestly. The way he looked at her, the phone call they shared after the bombing in Vienna, how sweet and caring he was, his inability to abandon his best friend, everything. Yeah, he was stubborn and impulsive at times, but his intentions were always pure. Perhaps that's the reason she deviated from the rest of her team to help Steve and Bucky escape.

Yet, as everyone went into hiding and Natasha received a warrant for her arrest, she decided against looking for Steve. She wanted to find him more than anything, but she couldn't stop imagining him and Sharon. God, Natasha loathed Sharon. A day never went by where Natasha didn't scold herself over setting Steve up with that woman, no matter how nice Sharon was. Natasha felt that she had let Steve slip form her grasp and yet again attempted to numb her wasted emotions as a result.

She spent so much time pushing Steve away that she had almost forgotten how much she cared about him. And now, crouched over his limp body in the center of a Dutch HYDRA facility, Natasha realized that's exactly where she went wrong. Thus, tears streaming down her face, she bit her lip and vowed to never push him away again.

"S-Steve, can you hear me?" Natasha heard yelling from somewhere above, followed by the thumping of footsteps. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Steve, I need you to wake up. We need to leave."

"What about the plan?" Sam asked softy from above. The Falcon had returned to Clea's side and was in the process of helping the teen to her feet.

"Forget about the plan." Natasha shook her head as her body trembled. "He needs medical attention." Her grip on Steve's shoulders tightened. "Steve, please. You have to wake up. We need to- I... I'm so sorry." She was really crying now, teardrops falling from her face and soaking into the lining of Steve's suit. "I should've told you I loved you instead of pushing you away. I should've looked for you after the Accords. I should've been there for you. You deserve better. So much better..."

Sam and Clea landed behind Natasha, the teen's arm hooked over Sam's shoulder as she struggled to stand. Clea's voice breaking, she muttered, "This is all my fault."

"No, it's not," Sam interjected immediately. "We did all we could. No one could have predicted this."

All was silent for a moment before Steve inhaled sharply. His body shifted like that of someone waking up after 8 hours of sleep. Unbeknownst to all of them, he had heard everything. His blue eyes opening slightly, he spoke. "If better exists, I don't want it." Reaching up, he pressed his giant hand against Natasha's face. Then, his dreamy simper drooping, he asked, "Nat, what happened?"

Trembling, Natasha clasped her hand over Steve's and leaned into his touch. The tears had ceased, but her tone still shook. "There was an explosion and the floor caved in. You got buried under the rubble and-"

Steve let out a slight chuckle that quickly morphed into a cough. "I was frozen in a block of ice for almost 70 years. Do you really believe I'm going to let a building get the best of me?"

Sniffling, Natasha couldn't help but smile. "C'mon, let's get out of here." She rose slowly, clutching Steve's hand and gradually bringing him to his feet. He was unsteady at first, using Natasha as a crutch until he regained his balance. Even then, however, never once did he let go of his blonde-haired angel with a shotgun.

"Nat..." Steve's lip bled as he murmured her name. "What about Hale? We've already come this far."

Biting her lip, Natasha realized he was right. There was no sense in quitting now, especially since Steve was well enough to walk.

Sam turned to Clea. "That story you told us in the prison block. You can level building a, right?"

Clea looked up groggily. "I could, but I won't. I won't murder a building full of people, no matter how evil they are. That's why I didn't kill any of the operatives we ran into." She looked at the crumbling ceiling and winced in response to the destruction she caused. "I was only willing to eliminate Ward because I knew that if HYDRA captured me again, I'd be forced to hurt others."

"What are we going to do then?" Sam set his gaze on Natasha, one lens of his red goggles cracked.

"I'll tell you what you're gonna do," a voice called from the broken floor above. They heard slow, steady footsteps; Natasha cocked her pistol. A figure approached, emerging from the dust and staring down at them with a menacing twinkle in his jet-black eyes. His round head was absent of hair and his broad body was clothed in a black long-sleeve shirt and black stretchy pants. Sporting a busted lip, he held a stout handgun with two vertical, elongated barrels. "You're going to hand over the kid."