Her Hidden Past

- Chapter Thirty Two -

"Hill?" Coulson asked.

"In position," She replied.

"Wait for us to engage," Coulson reminded them.

"Yes Sir," May answered.

"I'll take point, Captain," Coulson put a hand on Steve's arm.

"No Sir," Steve stopped him. "I'm the one with the shield, you stay behind me."

"Cap," Coulson protested. "We need to get in there, clear the room and get our agents back."

"Then let's get in there," Steve replied.

"After you, Captain," Coulson gestured reluctantly to the door. Steve slammed the door open, leading the charge into the hangar. Coulson hot on his heels, gun in hand.

"Ah, Captain, and you must be the famous Agent Coulson," Medvedev greeted them. "Have you both come to join the party?"

"I've come to ruin your- whatever this is," Coulson snapped. He clenched his free hand as his eyes were drawn to his two agents. They were hanging side by side from the wing of one of the quinjets by their wrists. He couldn't judge the severity of their injuries, but he could see they were both unconscious and covered in blood from various injuries.

"We need to get them down," Steve turned a horrified glance to Coulson. "Barton is barely breathing. We'll have to push our way through. I'll cover you."

"Right behind you," Coulson agreed.

"Capture them alive," Medvedev ordered his men.

Engaging the first of Medvedev's men, Steve used his shield as a battering ram. Coulson covered his six, targeting the men one by one, taking them down with prejudice. Soon they could hear the gunshots as Hill, May and Skye engaged the men from behind. Targeted sniper shops took down anyone headed for the two injured agents, before switching to anyone targeting Coulson and the Captain.

"Get them down, Coulson," Steve called as they got closer, taking on five men at once so Coulson could focus on his two young agents.

"Clint," Coulson called, assessing his injuries. "Clint, I'm going to need your help." He paused, carefully reaching for his agent. "Clint?"

"P-il," Clint managed to force half an eye open.

"I've got you, Clint," Phil assured him, seeing most of his injuries were less serious than they had seemed from a distance. "Lean on me once I get you down." He steadied his agent while he picked the lock on the handcuffs. Clint stumbled almost falling as he landed back on his feet.

"Phil," Clint gripped his handler's shoulder as he caught sight of his partner.

"I know, Clint. She's in worse shape than you," Phil sighed. "I need your help with her."

Clint nodded, using Phil for balance as they moved the few steps to Natasha's side. "Natasha?" He called her name as he reached for her.

"Don't touch me," Natasha spat venomously as she withdrew from his touch.

"Tasha," Clint reached out again.

"Don't touch me," Natasha pulled away again, her voice cracking more than before. She attempted to kick out at them.

"Tasha?" Clint whispered. "Let me help you."

"Don't," Her voice turned to almost begging as she tried to pull away.

"Tasha, Phil's here, he's going to undo the cuffs," Clint told her gently. "We're going to get you down."

"Clint?" Natasha asked, forcing her eyes to focus.