I Can Take You Home (A Romanogers Fanfic) COMPLETED

Natasha

Natasha's shoulder hurt, and she managed to scramble up to her feet once the gunshots had stopped, one hand clasping her injured shoulder.

  She saw Steve struggling to get up a few feet away from her, and quickly limped over to help him. She knelt beside him and brought his body close to hers with her good arm. "Are you okay?" she whispered, her breath coming in bursts. She checked him all over for any injuries. "Are you okay, are you okay?" She repeated the question like a broken record until Steve finally found his voice to answer her.

  "Yeah, I'm okay." Steve got up to his feet and helped Natasha up. His eyes widened at her torn shoulder. "We need to get you a medic."

  "No, no need." Natasha went over to the wardrobe where she had hidden her guns and Widow Bites (Fury had given her these electroshock weapons a few years ago) under a pile of clothes. She slid the bracelet-like weapons onto her wrists and tossed Steve his shield. Now that the shock had gone away, her mind screamed at her to hurry. Yelena, Yelena, Yelena, it blared like a siren. Sam, Sam, Sam.

  As though her mind had summoned him, Sam stumbled into their room with his gear hastily strapped on. His goggles laid askew on his head, which he pulled them down to shield his eyes. His mechanical wings snapped open in a swish. "You okay?" he said to Steve and Natasha.

  "Yeah, as fine as I can be," Natasha answered.

  Sam casted a worried look at her shoulder but said nothing. He then swooped out the broken window. Below it, a pool of shattered glass laid on the bed.

  "This is why I told you to not put beds beside windows, Sam!" Steve shouted at his friend, and off he ran down the stairs, with Natasha following him from behind.

  Yelena, Yelena, Yelena. Where are you? Natasha searched the living room as she ran past, but saw no signs of her grumpy sister. Only the bag of clothes Yelena owned sat in the front of the television, with the clothes strewn all over the red carpet.

  The fear and anxiety inside Natasha intensified to a shrieking fever pitch as she went outside. The screeching mess of emotions inside her stopped all at once when she saw a body with familiar blonde hair lying half-out from a bush.

  No no no no no no no no. Please don't be her, please please please.

  Her pleas were useless, for when she dropped down beside the body, it was indeed her sister. For a moment, she heard nothing but a sharp ringing in her ear. Yelena's horrified, dead face merged into a girl she knew. A girl who she had befriended back in the Red Room, who she had brutally broken the neck of. She had no other choice. Nobody wanted to die. Not her.

  But oh, how she wanted to right now. 

  Now, Natasha was no stranger to blood and death and murder, no matter how small or severe, she was no foreign to the topic. But seeing Yelena lying in a pool of her own blood, blood running out of her mouth and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, Natasha's stomach churned.

  "Yelena, no. Little one, I love you so much. Speak to me, speak to me." Natasha grabbed Yelena's limped body and shook. Yelena's body flopped slightly around like a doll's. She kissed Yelena's forehead all the way down to her cheek. "You're so cold, my baby sister. You're so cold."

  Who did this to you?

  "I will make them pay for what they did to you, sestra." Natasha smiled down at her sister and stroked Yelena's sunken, blood-splattered cheek, wishing, praying, hoping against all hope, that her sister would open her eyes and smile that crooked grin of hers. But she never did. The grief paved way for more emotion to fill it in, and rage was the one to leap into the empty space. "I'll tear apart their face," she growled. "Cut open their chest and take out their heart. Skin them alive." An image of the girl resurfaced in her mind, her neck twisted in an unnatural way and her face contorted in pain. She shook it away.