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The blast hit her like a freight train. One second, Ava was sprinting down the corridor after Walker, comms filled with Yelena’s smartass commentary and Bucky’s short, clipped orders. The next, the ceiling cracked wide open, the world lurched, and gravity did what gravity does best: dropped the whole damn floor on her head.
She didn’t remember hitting the ground. Immediately, it was just dust, pressure, and the ringing inside her ears as everything descended into black and gray.
Her lungs screamed for air. Her body refused to move. Panic gnawed at her ribs.
And then, somewhere through the haze, a groan. A very human, very irritating groan.
“Walker?” she rasped.
“Still alive,” came his voice, muffled and gravelly. And too close. Way, way too close.
Ava blinked grit out of her eyes. When her vision swam into focus, she realized she wasn’t just under rubble; she was unfortunately pinned beneath a slab of hefty concrete, with Walker practically plastered on top of her. His arm braced over her chest, his leg tangled with hers, his shield half-buried at their side like a useless dinner plate.
“Oh my god,” she croaked. Then, “This is your fault,” she added, because if she didn’t blame him, she’d scream.
“My fault?” His head shifted, dust falling from his hair onto her face. “You’re the one who set off the tripwire, genius.”
“I didn’t set it off, it—” Ava intentionally cut herself off with a bitter laugh. “Great. Crushed to death in a collapsed death trap, and I’m spending my last moments arguing with you.”
Over comms, a voice crackled, amused and far too clear. “Arguing, hm? Good. You’re both alive, then.”
“Yelena?” Ava wheezed.
“Of course it is me. Who else sounds this beautiful on comms?”
“Focus,” Bucky’s voice cut in, flat but carrying a thread of relief Ava didn’t miss. “We're both fine. Ceiling missed us by inches. You two. Status.”
“Buried,” Walker grunted, shifting just enough to make the slab above them creak alarmingly. He froze. “…mostly intact.”
“Define mostly,” Bucky said.
“Nothing broken. Maybe cuts, bruises. Hell of a headache. Ava?”
Her throat was raw, but she forced her voice steady. “Pinned under--" Nope. She couldn't share that. Wouldn't, no matter how dire their situation was. "Can’t move my legs.”
Yelena’s sigh was dramatic enough to carry through static. “Aw. Two of you stuck together under rubble. What did I say, Buck? They are magnet for disaster.”
“Less talking, more digging,” Bucky replied tersely. "John, can you hold?"
"Yeah," Walker answered quickly. "Yeah, I can hold. Have to, at any rate."
Ava closed her eyes. She could feel Walker’s chest rise and fall against hers, far too steady for someone trapped under a building. The bastard probably thought this was just another Tuesday.
“You’re heavy,” she complained.
“Excuse me? In case you didn't notice, I’m the only one here keeping the ceiling from crushing your head.”
“Yeah? You’re still crushing me, though.”
“You’re welcome.”
Yelena made a delighted noise. “Oh, this is good. I record this for Bob.”
“Don’t you dare—” Ava started.
“Shh,” Walker interrupted, tilting his head. Dust shifted, another groan from the fractured beams above them. He lowered his voice. “Save your air.”
Right. Air. The word pressed sharply against her ribs. The pocket they were in was small, too small, and every breath they took made it smaller.
“Ava. Can you phase?” That was Bucky again.
And the answer was always, she could. Except: “I- I need to know where I’m going. If I don’t–”
“She’ll die,” Walker finished for her. "Not an option."
Bucky said, “Hold position, then.”
Her chest tightened. Panic rose again, uninvited. It always happened when she knew she was stuck. She clenched her fists to keep it from showing.
But of course, Walker noticed. He always noticed the things she wanted to keep buried; what more in a situation like this?
“Hey,” he said, softer now. "Hey. You’re okay. Breathe slow.”
She wanted to snap back, something about shoving his orders where the sun won’t shine, but her throat locked. So she focused instead on his breathing: steady, measured, obnoxiously calm. She matched it: shallow inhale, longer exhale.
Better. Not good. Just… better.
Silence stretched, thick with dust and the occasional crack of settling rubble.
Ava’s eyes burned. “If this place comes down, Yelena’s going to kill us before the debris does.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Yelena chimed. “If you die, I never forgive you. You owe me drinks. And new boots.”
Bucky again, cutting through: “We’re almost to your location. Hold tight.”
“Not like we’re going anywhere,” Ava muttered.
Walker huffed out a quiet laugh that shook his chest against hers. “Silver lining: this is the quietest you’ve been since I met you.”
She turned her head just enough to glare at him. “Keep talking, Walker, and I’ll bite your ear right off.”
He smirked. Actually smirked. “Sure you will.”
Yelena practically choked on her laughter. “Bucky, tell me I’m not the only one hearing this.”
Bucky didn’t answer. But Ava swore she caught the faintest snort before the line went quiet.
Then her ears burned hotter than the dust should’ve allowed.
She hated Walker. She hated being trapped. She hated the weight pressing her into the ground and the ache in her legs and the fact that, in all the ways this shit could’ve gone, being pinned with him on top of her wasn’t exactly the worst outcome - which would be death.
And she really hated that she didn’t hate the steady warmth of his body that kept the rubble off her chest.
Time bled strange when you’re stuck in the dark.
Not that Ava appreciated learning the fact firsthand.
She had no clue how long she’d been lying under the slab. A minute? Ten? An hour? Every heartbeat sounded like it echoed inside her skull. The dust made the air heavy, gritting down her throat every time she swallowed.
Her legs throbbed with a dull, steady pain that promised bruises at best, fractures at worst. She tested her right ankle with a cautious wiggle. Nothing. Numb. Her stomach sank.
Walker’s weight shifted above her, careful, controlled. He angled his arm against the slab overhead, bracing it with his shoulder. Even in the gloom, she could see the vein standing out in his neck.
He wore effort well, that’s for sure.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
Ava blinked, confused, until she glanced down and saw it: dark patches soaking through the sleeve of her suit. A cut along her forearm, sluggish but steady. She hadn’t even felt it over the pins and needles in her legs.
“It’s nothing,” she dismissed immediately.
“That’s more than nothing.”
“Quit it. It doesn’t matter, okay?”
He gave her a look that told her exactly what he thought about that statement. “Just keep pressure on it.”
“I would, if I could move.”
“--Right.” He adjusted, trying to reach her arm, but the movement made the rubble creak ominously above them. Immediately, he stopped moving.
The sound vibrated through her chest. Ava shut her eyes, expecting the ceiling to finally cave down on them. Save her from this misery.
Over comms, Yelena’s voice floated in, low but teasing. “Aw, he is worried. Like knight in cheap, shiny armor.”
“Shut up,” Walker replied.
“Don’t snap at me! I am outside, breathing clean air. You are in hole.”
Bucky’s voice broke through, steady. “We’re cutting through from the east. Debris is heavy. Gonna take us time, though. You two stable meantime?”
“Yes,” Walker answered immediately.
“No,” Ava said at the same time.
He twisted to glare at her. “We are,” he insisted. "I'm making sure of it."
“No, I–” She winced, as if admitting the truth pained her. “I can’t feel my leg.”
Silence. Not just in the rubble, but across comms.
Then Bucky’s voice, quieter: “Which leg?”
“Right.”
“Pins and needles?”
“No. Dead weight.”
“Shit,” said Yelena, serious sounding for once.
Walker swore under his breath. His hand found her wrist, squeezed it. Maybe for her, maybe for him, she couldn’t tell. “She’ll be fine,” he told the comm, but Ava heard the wobble under it.
Bucky didn’t argue. Just said, “We’ll dig faster.”
Dust rained down somewhere overhead. The structure above them groaned.
Ava’s chest tightened. The air tasted thinner, now.
Her throat locked again. Not now, please. Not panic. Not here.
“Hey,” Walker said again, voice cutting through sharp. His eyes locked on hers, steady and maddening. “Look at me.”
She did. She hated that she had to, but she did.
“Talk,” he ordered.
“About what?”
“Anything. Just keep talking.”
Her mouth went dry. Words scrambled in her head like rats, useless. “You’re… heavy.”
His brow ticked. “We’re back to that?”
“You smell like dust and bad coffee.”
“At least I drink mine hot.”
“And yet hot coffee doesn’t make you less of a jerk.”
His lips quirked. “Good. Anger’s better than panic.”
She scowled. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“Not analyzing. Observing.”
“Same thing.”
“Then maybe I’m good at it.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
Yelena’s laugh burst through the comm like static. “Oh, this is good. Keep going. Entertain me while I dig to save your asses.”
Ava groaned. “Mute me, please.”
“No. I live for this. You should have seen Bucky’s face when you said you cannot feel your leg. He went all—” She exaggerated a gasp. “Silent panic.”
“Yelena,” Bucky’s voice rumbled, sharp enough to silence her for half a second.
Ava tried to tune them all out.
Except...
Walker’s hand was still around her wrist. She stared at it. Calloused, steady, absurdly warm.
Her throat ached. She wanted to say something. Something biting, something that would put distance back between them. But all that came out was: “I hate this.”
“Yeah?” Walker murmured, his gaze flicking briefly to her mouth before dragging away. “Join the club.”
And yet, he didn’t let go.
The worst part wasn’t the weight on her legs. It wasn’t even the grit in her teeth, the sting in her lungs, or the hard weight of Walker on top of her.
It was the waiting.
Waiting while the walls creaked like they were tired of holding still. Waiting while the dust settled, then rose again with every groan of shifting stone. Waiting while his arm stayed braced above her like some overgrown load-bearing pillar.
She absolutely abhorred waiting.
“How’s the arm?” Walker asked, voice low, steady.
“Still attached,” Ava muttered.
“Bleeding stopped?”
“You want to take a closer look?”
“Can’t move that far without pancaking us.”
“Then shut the hell up.”
He actually smiled at that. She could feel it, even in the gloom.
The fact that he could smile here was infuriating.
The comm crackled. “Update,” Bucky’s voice, clipped.
“Still trapped,” Walker said.
“Still annoyed,” Ava added in clipped tones.
“Good,” Yelena chirped. “If you are annoyed, you are not yet dead. Means we can probably slow down digging.”
"No," said Bucky. "We're not slowing down. Keep at it."
"It was a joke, Jesus."
There was clanging in the distance—metal on stone, deliberate. The sound carried through the rubble like faint thunder. It was their rescue, slow, brutal, but steady.
Ava’s chest tightened. It felt like listening to her own clock tick down.
She wondered if that was how Walker saw this situation, too.
Then a sharp crack above them. Dust rained. A chunk of concrete shifted somewhere close.
“Don’t move,” Walker muttered, like she had options. His arm pressed harder against the slab. Their tiny world held its breath.
Silence. Then stillness again.
Ava’s pulse finally unfurled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Being the big damn hero. Holding up the ceiling. Saving the day.”
He gave her a flat look. “If I was enjoying this shit, I think you’d know.”
“No. You’re terrible at hiding smug.”
“And you’re terrible at hiding scared.”
Her glare could’ve cut steel. “I’m not scared.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Yelena let out a whistle over comms. “Ooooh. He got you there, Ava.”
“Mute her,” Ava snapped. "For the love of god, Bucky--"
“No,” Yelena said cheerfully. “This is highlight of mission. Forget stolen intel, this is worth it.”
“You’ve got a twisted sense of humor, you know that?” Walker said.
“So I’ve been told.”
Bucky finally cut in, voice like a blade. “Ava, John. Both of you, save your air.”
Ava clamped her jaw shut. She couldn’t tell if the flush in her chest was from dust or fury. Or both.
Minutes crawled again. The air was warmer now, or maybe just stale. Her head buzzed with too little oxygen. Walker shifted once, careful and slow, to ease the weight on his shoulder. His breath hitched, but he didn’t let the slab drop even an inch.
“God, you’re heavy,” she muttered.
“Better than useless.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
She shoved weakly at his chest, though her arm barely had the strength. “If I could move, I’d—”
“You’d what?”
“Kick your arse.”
“You’re welcome to try once we’re out.”
“Once we’re out? That’s cute. You’re actually sounding optimistic.”
Yelena made an exaggerated gasp. “Did he smile when he said it? Ava, did he? Tell me. Tell me every detail.”
“Yelena,” Ava ground out, “I swear I will unplug your comm when I get out of here. And maybe take out your ear, too.”
“Promises, promises,” Yelena sang back at her.
“Yelena,” Bucky snapped again. He sounded more irritated this time. Or maybe just tighter.
Something in Ava loosened at that. It wasn’t comfort or warmth, just… steadiness. If Barnes was snapping, it meant he was working. It meant they weren’t forgotten under here.
Still, the waiting gnawed. Her eyelids felt heavy. Her head throbbed. She bit her lip hard enough to taste iron.
Maybe if she could just--
“Stay awake,” Walker said suddenly.
“I am awake.”
“You were nodding off.”
“I was blinking.”
“For thirty seconds?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Shut the hell up. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Yeah? You got one for now anyway.”
She wanted to hit him. She wanted to scream in his face. But mostly, she just wanted to breathe air that didn’t taste like fucking concrete.
Another groan above. The world trembled, then stilled.
“Barnes,” Walker barked sharply into comms, “how much longer?”
A pause. Then Bucky, flat as stone, said, “Soon. Hold your position.”
Yelena, softer this time, added, “We are very close. Just do not break yet, okay?”
Ava shut her eyes. The weight pressed harder, but the voices tethered her, sharp edges and all.
And under all of it, Walker didn’t let the ceiling fall over them.
The next time the rubble shifted, it wasn’t random. It was deliberate. Metal screeched, stone scraped, and light stabbed through a jagged gap above them.
“Barnes?” Walker said, voice hoarse.
“Visual,” Bucky answered. “Stay down.”
Ava almost laughed. “Where else would we go?”
Chunks of debris shifted overhead. Dust rained down, thicker now, choking the air. Walker tucked his head against hers, angling as best he could to protect her face in the cramped space. His weight pressed heavier, but the ceiling didn’t cave. Not yet.
Then, a crash, louder than all the rest - and blessed air surged in.
The tiny light they had widened into a hole. And then a shape loomed: dark jacket, metal arm gleaming under a layer of dust.
Bucky.
He didn’t say anything, merely wedged his metal arm under the slab and heaved. The stone groaned, shifted, and finally lifted just enough for Walker to shove Ava’s shoulder free.
Her body screamed in protest. Blood rushed where it hadn’t in too long, pins and needles spiking sharply through her right leg. She bit down on a cry, teeth grinding against the taste of grit.
“Easy,” Walker muttered, half-carrying her as he dragged her clear of the gap, Bucky on the other side easily receiving her weight.
The air outside was colder, cleaner. It burned her lungs in the best way. She coughed hard, doubled over, her arm screaming as dust-coated blood smeared fresh.
Yelena’s voice was immediate, too loud in her ear. “Well, well, look who crawled out of grave. Little mole people.”
Ava spat dust onto the cracked concrete floor and shot a glare at nothing. “Mute button, Yelena. Find it.”
Soon, a dirty-looking Russian swooped into view, eyes gleaming like she’d been watching a soap opera instead of digging a tunnel. She grinned widely. “So. You look terrible. Both of you.”
Walker exhaled like he’d been holding the world up for hours. “Next time, you get trapped in there. See how that’ll work for you.”
Bucky ignored them both as he crouched beside Ava. His gaze swept quickly, almost clinical in action: arm, chest, legs. His jaw ticked when he noticed the bloody gash on her arm. It went worse when she flinched at his touch on her ankle.
“Broken?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“Not clean,” Bucky muttered. “You’ll walk, but not tonight.”
“Great,” she said through clenched teeth. “Always loved a good limp.”
Walker hovered on her other side, dust streaked, sweat dripping. He looked like hell but was still standing tall, shield slung against his back again as if nothing had happened.
Of course.
She got to bleed and break while he looked ready for more action.
It was bloody unfair.
Yelena planted her hands on her hips, surveying the mess. “Trapped under rubble together. Breathing same dirty air. Sharing… closeness.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Tell me: was it as romantic as Bob’s books say it would be?”
Ava groaned loud enough to echo. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Seconded,” Walker muttered.
Bucky didn’t rise to Yelena’s bait. He slipped his arm under Ava’s shoulder and lifted her, slow, careful. She tried not to wince, tried not to show the weight of her leg dragging wrong.
“You guys should’ve dug faster,” she told him anyway.
“Maybe next time, don’t get trapped in a building,” he deadpanned.
Yelena laughed as she made her way down the corridor, skipping ahead like the whole world wasn’t still half-collapsed.
Walker stayed close, matching Bucky’s pace, as if he didn’t trust either of them not to fall.
Ava hated it. She hated the sting in her leg, the ache in her chest, the dust in her throat. She hated Yelena’s knowing smirk, Bucky’s steady silence, and Walker’s looming presence right at her elbow.
But most of all, she hated that, buried under all the noise and pain, there was one undeniable fact:
They’d gone under together.
And came out of it alive.