(no subject)
the hill
rating: pg
characters: Natasha Romanoff/Maria Hill
warnings: chose not to use
summary: She remembers the first time she heard someone say, "That is not the hill I want to die on." At the time she thought of high ground and tactics and an abiding scorn for accepting one's death as a given.
author's note: Day 7 of 12DoW.
She remembers the first time she heard someone say, "That is not the hill I want to die on." At the time she thought of high ground and tactics and an abiding scorn for accepting one's death as a given. Now, curled over Maria's unconscious body, gunfire and glass raining down like God's own fury, Natasha thinks of synonyms and antonyms and places that are not so terrible to die in.
People who are worth it to die for.
The floor bucks under her hands in the dim light, a frightened beast that shivers as the foundations shake and rumble. Natasha closes her eyes and holds on, holds on, keeps her body between the world and the woman beneath her. She is not Steve, to resist the fall of concrete and the fire of explosives; she has no shield to save them both, no S.H.I.E.L.D. to bring them home. They have no homes to speak of now, just plastered bolthouses and thread-bare sheets, beds tucked into closets and silent glances through open doorways. This pact they have built between them has become a thing living in her breastbone, in the ribs that rise and fall against her own to say Maria is alive, alive, alive, and for that she will keep them both breathing for as long as she is able.
For as long as she still can.
The assault continues above them, a cacophony of sirens and shrieking metal, and against the deafening roar Natasha bows her head to make a shelter of her bones. Beneath her Maria breathes, and breathes, and breathes, and it is enough.
This is not the day she wants to die on, but this is the Hill she will die for.
And that is not such a terrible thing.
rating: pg
characters: Natasha Romanoff/Maria Hill
warnings: chose not to use
summary: She remembers the first time she heard someone say, "That is not the hill I want to die on." At the time she thought of high ground and tactics and an abiding scorn for accepting one's death as a given.
author's note: Day 7 of 12DoW.
She remembers the first time she heard someone say, "That is not the hill I want to die on." At the time she thought of high ground and tactics and an abiding scorn for accepting one's death as a given. Now, curled over Maria's unconscious body, gunfire and glass raining down like God's own fury, Natasha thinks of synonyms and antonyms and places that are not so terrible to die in.
People who are worth it to die for.
The floor bucks under her hands in the dim light, a frightened beast that shivers as the foundations shake and rumble. Natasha closes her eyes and holds on, holds on, keeps her body between the world and the woman beneath her. She is not Steve, to resist the fall of concrete and the fire of explosives; she has no shield to save them both, no S.H.I.E.L.D. to bring them home. They have no homes to speak of now, just plastered bolthouses and thread-bare sheets, beds tucked into closets and silent glances through open doorways. This pact they have built between them has become a thing living in her breastbone, in the ribs that rise and fall against her own to say Maria is alive, alive, alive, and for that she will keep them both breathing for as long as she is able.
For as long as she still can.
The assault continues above them, a cacophony of sirens and shrieking metal, and against the deafening roar Natasha bows her head to make a shelter of her bones. Beneath her Maria breathes, and breathes, and breathes, and it is enough.
This is not the day she wants to die on, but this is the Hill she will die for.
And that is not such a terrible thing.