The Irony of it All

44

I ended up splitting chapter 44 into 2 chapters  so this one is extra short. When you get the bottom, you'll understand why.

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Russia
  Novorossiysk Bay
January 2017

    "Natasha! No! Nat!" His scream died in his throat as he halted. The sound of a bow string pulling tight caused the man in front of him to turn before he could release the arrow. Normally he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill or at least maim the person who had just shot his best friend, but the familiar, weathered face stopped him.

“Coulson?”

    “Barton?” The man questioned, his gun still trained on him.

    Clint breathed in, his lungs quivering. Whether that was caused by the freezing air he was inhaling or the ghost in front of him, he wasn’t sure. “You’re dead,” he gasped.

    “No, I was dead. Past tense.” Clint glanced at him once more before moving his eyes to his primary concern: The pool of blood forming around Natasha’s body as she laid face down on the floor. His questions about Coulson’s apparent resurrection could wait. He relaxed his bow string, returning the arrow to his quiver as he ran to her side, quickly getting to his knees.

    “Nat,” he called to her, hurriedly turning her over. Her eyes were closed and more blood was dripping from the cut on her forehead where she’d come in brutal contact with the hard floor.

    “I didn’t realize…” Phil whispered behind him. Clint didn’t bother to respond. Had he not known in his gut that it was Nat, the blonde hair might have thrown him off as well.

    Her breath was labored as he put pressure on the wound in her shoulder.

    “Please tell me that’s fake,” Phil said. Clint glanced down the spherical bulge in her abdominal region. He cursed under his breath. More people ran into the room then and he reached for his bow.

    “It’s just my team,” Coulson assured.
   
    “What the hell happened?!” The woman, whom Clint recognised as the woman codenamed The Calvary. Agent Melinda May. He’d met her once in passing, a very long time ago.

    “We need a secure hospital!” He yelled, his voice hoarse with worry as continued to push down on the wound.

    “We’ve got a jet with a biochemist/ surgeon on board,” Coulson offered.

    “Come on,” he whispered to her so quietly so that no one else could hear. “You survived two whole months on your own, on the run. You can’t die now. You gotta live for your kid.”

    Another, younger, woman walked around to examine the man that he assumed Natasha had shot in self defense. He hadn’t been worried about him, hadn’t even given him one good look besides the initial, foggy assessment that he was a large man, filthy from head to toe, covered in both old and fresh blood, and although he hadn’t felt for a pulse, assumed dead.

    “Oh God.” The young woman murmured.

    “Daisy?” May asked, concern filling her voice.

    “I-is that Captain America?”

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Dun Dun Duuuun.
And now..if you didn't know before, you know that I'm addicted to drama, theatrical moments, and freaking cliffhangers. If you want to strangle me I totally get it...but you have to admit...the wait makes it so much more satisfying. Or am I the only one?