His Beauty, My Beast

Love

//AN//

This chapter is dedicated to lizkeen2003 for figuring out the identity of the mystery sniper in the previous chapter. There were a few others who also guessed the sniper but lizkeen2003 was the first to comment :) Also thank you to  azzie89, ItalianLover_xox, Silver_Sweets, harp2227, and CrownJewell for commenting and contributing to the growth of this fanfic <3

Love

3rd Person

Bruce held a bleeding Nora in his arms. Her midnight hair fell over his arm as he shook her. Trying to wake her. He was screaming the Avenger's names, trying to get them to understand what had happened. Naveen got the jet running, Tony swore his way through his vocabulary. Clint and Steve went running up towards the building across the street in pursuit of the sniper. Natasha was by Bruce's side. Pressing her hand into the gaping, black wound in Nora's chest Natasha attempted to still the blood flood. But it was no use.

Bruce was ropable. Inconsolable. He howled and the veins in his throat began to thicken and pulse green. Nora's eyes had remained in the state of confessing that she loved him.
"Wake up Nora! WAKE UP! I love you! I love you—don't you leave me! NO!" Bruce held her so tightly. Blood poured onto him. His arms, chest and lap were sloshed with it.

Natasha felt her throat close up as she held onto Nora's limp hand. What had just happened?

***

The Avengers had rushed Nora back onto the jet and back to America. She had been shoved into the best intensive care. The best any human being could ever ask for. But Nora didn't need it. They were too late. The sniper had killed her. Clean and undetected. Clint and Steve had found nothing in the building they inspected top to bottom, in and out. No signs of life. JARVIS and Tony attempted to track down the bullet but it was pointless. Nothing—nothing would bring Eleanor Salvadore back to them.

Time was irrelevant and yet it never seemed to stop moving. Despite the fact that none of the Avengers could remember anything the next few days. Natasha should have been glad that she was out of Paris and finally back in New York. Away from danger. But she could not find it in her heart to even be a little bit happy. Nora was gone. The young girl whom she saved all those months ago . . . was gone. The young, lost broken girl who had given her own life to save Natasha. And now she was dead.

Naveen promised herself she would not mourn over the loss of something that maybe perchance was inevitable. Just like her father she isolated herself all emotions and distanced herself from everyone—including Steve. Tony was the mirror image of his daughter. Even though the tiger was not his closest friend, team member or even acquaintance, his mind still could not fathom it. The white tiger was gone.

Clint was wordless and he and Romanoff were sent on a clean-up mission in Paris. Director Nick Fury informed them it was something to keep their mind off things. However Paris was the place where it all happened. Neither the bird nor the spider wished to visit that place again.

Steve would never admit out loud that maybe he didn't mind that the kid was gone. But then he would see Naveen's expression, her body language, Bruce and the others as they moved like zombies. He then reminded himself that she was gone forever. Forever. Like a candle on the window sill. He thought he wouldn't mind not having Nora around. Until he realised that he had no one to fight over the TV remote with, no one to argue whether the breakfast was burnt or not. No one for Naveen to hang out with. And that made him sad.

Bruce was—gone—just like Nora. He was a ghost. Remaining by her body for longer than he should have. Clutching her cold hand in his warm one. She looked so peaceful, calm . . . safe. But the gaping wound at her chest and the way her skin took on a waxy colour—she was gone. Not all the kind and loving words in the world could bring her back. Not all the kisses and hugs and promises in the world could. And yet, he refused to believe she would not wake up. Her hair was an inky halo about her head, her mouth set in that way that matured her. Her uniform had been replaced with a white dress that Naveen had picked out. The funeral was soon but her body had not left the hospital yet.