⤷ march 27, 2014
━━━━━━━━━━━
She didn't know what was keeping her sane.
Her pacing,
Or the steady beeping of Nick Fury's heart as he lies unconscious on the surgical table.
Because as long as his heart was beating, he's still alive. He still has a chance. And as long as she's pacing, she can distract herself.
Distracting herself. Right she should do that.
Steve was watching the operation intently through the window, with her pacing back and forth behind him, back to chewing at her finger nails in anxious wait. It hasn't been this bad since she was first recruited to the Avengers. God, had it already been two years since then?
The door slams open, and she casts her gaze quickly over to Romanoff, whose eyes are immediately stuck to Fury as she comes up beside Steve, silent as she looks at the man in surgery.
"Is he going to make it?" She asks.
"I don't know," mutters Steve gravely.
"Tell me about the shooter," Romanoff demands. Irina glances at Steve, expression grave as she waits for his answer, curious as well.
What shooter could outrun Captain America?
Not a regular one, that's for sure.
"He's fast. Strong," Steve answers. He dips his head down. "Had a metal arm."
And everything comes to a screeching halt.
Metal arm.
Metal arm.
He had a metal arm?
She knew who had a metal arm.
"Ангел."
Grunts of pain.
She's pinned to the ground.
Cold metal pressing against her throat.
"Не достаточно хорош. Снова."
Again.
Again and again.
Overandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverand —
"He's in V-tach."
"Crash cart coming in."
As soon as she snaps away, she's back just as quickly. Irina darts her gaze over Romanoff's shoulders, hears the rapid beeps of warning. Nurses rushing, surgeons panicking.
"Nurse, help me with the drape."
"BP's dropping."
"Defibrillator!"
No.
Oh, no.
"I want you to charge him at 100."
"Don't do this to me, Nick."
No.
"Stand back."
"Three, two, one. Clear."
Please.
No.
"Pulse?"
"No pulse."
Please don't.
"Okay, 200, please. Stand back!"
Come on, Fury.
YOU ARE READING
𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes
Fanfiction❝ ironic, really. a name meaning peace given to someone who only fuels violence. ❞ ❝ i don't think you fuel violence. ❞ ❝ you'd probably be the only one. ❞...
