A Sorta Fairytale

I Could Not Erase It

The labyrinthine facility took a while to leave, and someone must have gone into the office they'd used, because alarms started going off after twenty minutes. Barnes swore under his breath, which made Natasha smile slightly. Garnering a reaction from him was a nice change from what she'd seen of him before. Their previously clandestine movements through the building were adapted wordlessly to favor speed over being undetected. The alarms caused all the regular workers and scientists to disappear, and men with guns to chase them instead.

Natasha wasn't overly concerned, but she pressed a distress signal on her phone that would alert Fury or Maria to her last known location. Their assailants were not ready to deal with intruders, so running had worked thus far to evade them. She had little attention to spare, but noticed that the softness she'd noted in Barnes earlier had disappeared – the look he wore she had seen before, and she was very grateful he was on her side this time.

Escaping the place did not go without a hitch, though they got pretty close to the door before running into a real obstacle. Rounding the corner ahead of Barnes, she saw the corridor was full of about a dozen men, waiting for them. Reacting without thinking, she grabbed Barnes and dragged them both back behind the wall. Bullets struck the concrete behind which they were taking cover, and he gave her a nod of thanks as she considered how to proceed. Without a word, Barnes pulled something from his belt and tossed it forward. A grenade, she supposed, though she had no idea he'd brought any.

"Any other exits?" he asked after the device went off and her hearing returned.

Debris had rained down, but it was now silent ahead. "I'm sure we could fine one," she offered.

Nodding, he turned and strode purposely around the corner. The grenade must not have been as effective as hoped because she could hear a shot ricochet off of his metal arm before she ducked after him. Some of the ceiling had fallen down, and the men were at least unconscious. The one who had fired on Barnes was dealt with before he could get off another shot when Barnes drew his pistol and took him out.

Glancing back to make sure she was following, Barnes took point and Natasha didn't stop him. She had no doubt that she could have made it out on her own, but it was certainly interesting to see how Barnes dealt with threats. Very effectively, she had to say. Well enough that she had nothing to do but walk a few paces behind him, checking regularly for anyone attempting to follow. Three such circumstances arose, but she took care of them quickly with her pistols. Finally, they reached the door through which they'd gotten into the building.

Barnes paused by the entrance, listening. "Ready?" he asked.

Once they left the relative safety of the corridor, there would not be any cover until they reached the vans. Anyone outside might be prepared to shoot at them, and she didn't have anything to deflect the bullets. Hence his question. But she'd been shot at plenty of times, and Barnes himself was the only one who'd ever managed to make contact. She smiled grimly at the thought and nodded to him, figuring now was not the best time to bring up that particular fact.

Using his shoulder to shove the door open, Barnes kept low and had his guns ready. Natasha did the same, both firing indiscriminately in the direction of any movement to keep anyone from getting a good shot in as they ran. It wasn't enough – Natasha felt a sharp pain just above her right knee and dropped to the ground with a hiss. Before she could make much assessment of what had happened, Barnes was putting his arm, the real one, under hers to give her the support she needed to keep running.

Each step was agony; the vans were not far and she managed to get into one after what seemed like an eternity but was only a few minutes. To her relief, Barnes got in the driver's seat. She was suppressing the pain as she'd been taught very effectively, but it was important to wrap a wound as soon as possible, before she lost too much blood. They continued to fire at their assailants – the glass was not bulletproof. But Barnes drove them out of the compound and, eventually, things quieted down. Natasha tore the leg of her suit to press against the bullet wound. It must not have hit anything but flesh, or it would hurt more. Still, it hurt abominably and was bleeding profusely, so the vein might have severed.