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Bruce is Hulked out when it happens. They are fighting side by side, and when she falls it is immediate and instant and she is gone before she hits the tiles. There is no cry of pain, very little blood and gore, at least not enough for Hulk to smell. He is aware of her falling but the tide of creatures is to thick and they have his attention.
When the square is clear, Hulk glances about for the Spider Lady. He wants to hear her voice, the sharp snark dedicated to Shiny Man, the respect for Hairy Thunder Man, the light hearted ribbing for Blue in Charge, the inside jokes she shared with Puny Prick Man, and the soft praise she saved just for him. He always liked her voice, is was raspy and soft and hummed lower than most female voices.
But a quick glance about the rubble turned up nothing. He lumbered around in a small circle looking for the bright red of her hair. It wasn't her hair the caught his attention, it was the faint buzz of frantic voices that brought him ducking into a smashed widow of a store.
There she was, sprawled up against a rack of junk food, her comm lighting up with the concerned tinny voices of their teammates. Dust had settled into her hair, dimming the ruby red of it. Her eyes where closed, an ugly bruise had started to form on her temple the nucleus a hideous breaking of skin. She was pale, much more than usual, the small dribble of blood leaking from her nose, stood stark against the pallor of her skin. Her arm looks to be broken twisted oddly beneath her body, but most worriedly was how still she was.
He crouched low, bringing his face close. He sniffed gently, her fine hair fluttered in his breath. He reached out with a giant green finger and brushed her cheek. Her head tilted lifelessly with his touch. A low worried whine worked its way out of his throat, his hand unfurled ready to clutch her close and run. But a frantic voice in the back of his mind stalled him.
"She could have an injury to her head and neck, you'll only make it worse moving her!”
It was one of the few times he listened to Puny Banner. Instead he turned and faced the incoming creatures ready to protect his Spider Lady. He bellows long and loud, pouring all his rage and fear into his voice and fists.
Soon again the tide lessons until they were gone for longer and longer periods. He keeps an eye on Spider Lady, but there is no movement from her corner. He settles down next to her, curling himself around her.
It takes far longer than he would have liked before Shiny Man lands in the square. He spots Hulk immediately and rushes over, using a short pulse of his blaster to clear the windowsill. Hulk moans deep and falls back, letting Puny Banner take back control. Before he fades into the black he catches a glimpse of Shiny Man kneeling next to Spider Lady, his face plate up, one hand pressed to his comm roaring for back up, the other frantically pressing into Spider Lady's neck.
~*~
When Bruce finally came to he was secured safely in the Quinn Jet. For a moment he thought he had woken from a terrible terrible dream, and he sucked in a sigh of relief. She was ok.
Then the silence hit him. No loud music, no arguments, no chatter what so ever. Just the quiet humm of the engines and the low somber tones of someone singing.
He rolled over on his cot, Tony was in the cock pit, his back painfully straight, Bruce could see the straining tendons in his neck. Steve was crouched in an alcove, fingers flying over a tablet eyes oddly red. Clint sat next to a second cot, glasses set firmly on his nose. He was pale and his hand were clenched tight in his lap. Thor was seated next to Clint one giant hand a comfort on his shoulder, the other heavy on the brow of the prone figure on the second cot. It was Thor's voice that he had heard. Bruce couldn't understand what he was saying, but the song was deep and low and mournful.
He felt the fear and realization rise into his throat as he focused on the dusty ruby hair of the second cots occupant. A strangled cry ripped from his throat as he tumbled to the floor of the jet. He scrambled to her side, knocking Thor's gargantuan hand from her forehead.
He searched her face, pressing back her blood red hair, looking for some life hidden in her features. His fingers pressed into her neck, ghosting over her mouth and nose. There was nothing.
"Nat!?" He called to her, his voice raw and his vision blurring with tears. "Oh God, Nat, no!"
"Shit, Stark set the jet down! Banner’s going green!"
Bruce could feel the green creep up his neck and his shoulders swell, but he didn't care. He just held Natasha's cold body close to his chest and sobbed into her hair.
He felt the jet settle on solid ground, and someone come up behind him.
"Hey buddy." Tony's voice was low and strained. He stood sentinel behind Bruce, a comforting presence for his friend.
Bruce was unsure how long he clung to Natasha and wept, but he stayed pink and small. Just a flush of green to the back of his neck and an uncomfortable tightness in his shoulders. He was startled when he felt the comforting weight of Thor's warm hand on the back of his neck. He started singing once again, and even if the words were still foreign to Bruce he understood them. Thor was singing for her soul. The song was to send her home, it was about her brave spirit, her kind and giving nature, her beauty, her love, her great deeds. It was a song of mourning, of how much she would be missed. It was a song for her friends who were her family, it was for the irreplaceable hole that had formed in the pit of Bruce's heart. He reached back and griped at Thor's hand in a white buckled hold. Gently and tentatively he felt two more hands land heavily on his shoulders, Clint's other hand finding Natasha's cold one, then the heavy press of Tony wrapping his arms about his best friend.
And Bruce cried.