Chapter 3

"Come on, Frankie," Rory whined. "I've been studying all weekend. Let's at least go out and get some of Wang's dumplings."

She looked over at the clock, it was only five. They should have enough time to go have dinner and still get back home for him to study a bit more before bedtime. It shouldn't hurt anything. Besides, he really didn't need to study anymore. Rory had turned into a voracious learner once she had convinced him that it was worth his effort. He absorbed everything he read or heard like a sponge. He was easily the smartest kid in his school.

"Okay, grab your coat," she conceded.

"Thanks, Frankie!" the sixteen-year-old yelled over his shoulder as he ran to his room. "You rock!"

"Just don't make me regret this!" She yelled after him, even though she knew he wouldn't. He had been studying hard for the last two months. One more hour wasn't really going to make a difference. He was going to blow the SAT exam out of the water tomorrow. Then, next year, instead of starting his senior year at the public school he attended, he could start taking college courses at the local community college.

She was so proud. He would be able to make something of himself and not have to spend the rest of his life hustling to make rent like she did. He had come a long way from the little street rat that had tried to steal her purse three years ago.

Rory came out of his room with a big goofy grin on his face as he pulled on his worn, thrift store coat she had bought him for his birthday. It was his favorite shade of green and even though it was a little big on him still, he had been thrilled when he opened it.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's go."

Before they could reach the door to the apartment, the floor started shaking. Alarmed, she looked back at Rory, but he was just standing there staring at her blankly. His coat was torn and bloody.

"Rory!" Frankie screamed.

The floor shuddered under her and it felt like she was falling.

"Rory!" she screamed again, reaching for him.

"Hold her still for Christ's sake!" a rough voice snapped.

"I'm trying, but the sedative is wearing off. She's coming to," came a calm voice that she almost recognized.

"Then get your ass up in the cockpit and get us out of this turbulence!" the first voice directed. "I can't dig glass out of a moving target!"

Frankie became aware of her surroundings slowly. She was lying on a hard surface and there were straps across her chest, abdomen, and upper thighs. Both of her wrists were similarly restrained. Somebody had a tight grip on her foot and was hurting her. She tried to kick.

"Ouch! Stop it!"

Hawkeye looked up from what he was doing and met her eyes. The bridge of his nose was turning black from her blow and she could see a trace of blood still lingering around one of his nostrils. He held up a pair of forceps grasping a bloody piece of glass.

"I'm trying to dig all the glass out of your feet," he told her and tossed the shard into a metal bowl. "But if you want to keep walking around like this," he shrugged, "that's your call."

She let her head fall back. "Fine," she huffed.

This time she held still as he went back to extracting the glass pieces. As he worked, she surveyed her surroundings. Fan-fucking-tastic, she thought. She was in some kind of tricked out aircraft. Probably one of those fancy Quinn jets she was always seeing on the news in association with Shield and the Avengers. She wasn't going to be able to escape while they were in the air, so she might as well cooperate and let them fix her up. The shuddering and vibrations she had felt eased up somewhat as the other guy, Vision, piloted the jet into a more stable part of the atmosphere.

The clank of the forceps being dropped into the bowl drew her attention back to Hawkeye. He was wrapping gauze around her foot. The other foot was already similarly bandaged. When he was done with his ministrations, he wiped his hands on a cloth and turned his attention back to her.

He held her gaze for several seconds before he asked, "so, are you going to tell me what I did to make you hate me so much?"

She frowned and looked away from him. He stood and moved to the side of the aircraft and sat in one of the seats mounted to the wall.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with this Rory you keep mentioning."

She nodded slightly.

He sighed heavily, "and he is probably dead. Right?"

Tears burned her eyes as she nodded again.

"When did it happen?" he asked gently.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Almost five years ago. Right after the Blip started."

"Fuck," he muttered. "What happened?"

Frankie was too tired to work up any anger, so she opened her mouth to tell him how he was responsible for Rory's death.

There was a bright flash and the aircraft bucked under her. The cot she was strapped to slid across the floor and crashed into a console. Hawkeye was thrown out of his seat and onto the floor. The lights inside the craft turned read and alarms started shrieking for attention.

"What the hell, Vision?" Hawkeye yelled, pushing himself up off the floor.

"We've been hit by some kind of energy weapon," came the response from the cockpit area.

"What kind of energy weapon?"

"Unknown," Vision replied calmly, "but it came from a rooftop in the city."

Hawkeye turned to Frankie, "you okay?"

"Unstrap me!" she demanded as she twisted in the restraints.

"Not on your life," he told her as he went forward to the cockpit. "Stay put!"

"Like I have a choice," Frankie complained, but he had already turned his attention to the controls of the jet and was no longer paying attention to her.

"That's okay, I'll just hang out here and hope not to die!" she yelled at the back of his head. Of course, he ignored her.

The jet lurched again, and the cot slid towards the back of the craft. Frankie frantically worked her wrists, trying to get one free. The one that she had ripped out of the cuff earlier that night was bandaged and hurt like a son of a bitch, but that didn't stop her from twisting it in the strap. Once again, in his efforts not to case her any harm, Hawkeye hadn't tightened the strap on that wrist as much as he should have. She was able to pull that wrist free and reached up to unbuckle the strap across her chest. From there she was able to get free of all the straps.

She sat up in the cot just in time for it to fall out from under her as the jet suddenly lost altitude. The feeling of weightlessness only lasted a few seconds before the cot rose back up to meet her. A yelp of surprise escaped before she could stop it, causing Hawkeye to look over his shoulder.

"Shit! Hold on!" he yelled as Vision turned the craft hard to the left.

"They're still shooting at us," Vision told him.

"No shit. Shoot back at them!"

"That would be unwise. We would cause more collateral damage and we do not need the negative publicity."

"So, you're going to let them shoot us out of the sky? That makes sense," Hawkeye threw his hands in the air in defeat.

While they were arguing, Frankie smelled something burning and looked around for its source. In the back of the jet, an electrical panel had smoke coming out of it. On the front of the panel was a red sticker with "DANGER" written on it.

"Um, guys?" she called out.

"I am trying to get out of range and find a place to safely land. But if you feel you can do a better job, then I will turn over the controls to you," Vision replied to Hawkeye.

"How long before we're out of range?"

"Ninety-three seconds."

Now, not only was smoke coming from the panel, but she could see flames coming out of some of the seams.

"Guys!" Frankie yelled.

"Not now!" Hawkeye yelled without looking back. "There's a heliport on the west side in the medical district. Can we make it?"

"I do not think the damage is too severe. If we can get out of range before we get hit again."

"Okay, asshole, I'll take care of it myself," Frankie muttered to herself, looking around for a fire extinguisher. There was one near the back of the jet opposite the burning electrical panel. She got up and used the wall to stay upright since the jet was still lurching from side to side. When she reached the canister, she pulled it free of its hanger and looked at the picture directions on its side. She had never used on before, but the pictures made it seem simple.

She pulled the pin and walked across to the panel, pointed the nozzle at it and depressed the handle. A fog came out of the nozzle and she directed it onto the panel, but nothing was happening. The smoke and flames were still there.

"Now what?" she asked herself. She remembered something a guy she had dated once told her. He was a licensed electrician and like to tell her stories about his job and he had once told her about an electrical fire. She remembered him telling her that the best way to put out an electrical fire was to shut off the power. After that, it was just a regular fire and could be put out easily.

"Okay, all I have to do it turn off the power." she looked around. "If I was the switch for this bitch, where would I be?"

Her eyes fell on a big red button on the wall next to the panel that was labeled "Emergency Shut Off".

"Hello." But that seemed just a bit too obvious. Surely it wasn't that easy.

"Hey?" she tried to get Hawkeye's attention again to ask him, but he was still arguing with Vision about shooting back at the people that were shooting at them.

She sighed and turned back to the panel. The smoke coming out of it was turning black and the flames looked worst. It was also giving off an acrid smell that burned her nose.

"Well, here goes nothing." She reached around the panel, careful not to get too close and pushed the red button.

Immediately, the red light went out and the alarms shut off. The entire back end of the jet went dark and quiet.

"Oh, that's not good." She started looking for the "ON" switch.

The Quinn jet was heaving under her feet like a bad amusement park ride. Not that Frankie had ever been to an amusement park, but this was how she imagined it. Alone in the darkened back of the jet while Hawkeye and Vision argued and tried to keep it in the air, she looked around for something to undo whatever she had just done. Pushing the red button again did nothing, so she looked for a master ON switch.

Not seeing one on her side of the jet, she turned to search the other side and ran into a solid chest that was beginning to become very familiar.

"I told you to stay put," Hawkeye told her, grabbing her arm firmly.

Frankie tried without success to pull away from him. "I was trying to keep your jet from going up in flames," she snapped and pointed to the still smoking electric panel with her free hand. "Without any help from you!" she added. "Now let me go, you overbearing jackass!"

Hawkeye looked at the panel and sighed before turning his attention back to her. "We've got to make an emergency landing. You need to sit down and strap in." He let go of her arm and pointed to a jump seat just behind the cockpit.

"You could have started with that instead of man-handling me," she huffed and pushed past him.

Unfortunately, the jet chose that moment to drop out from under her feet again flinging her forward back into Hawkeye's chest. He was able to maintain his balance, and caught her tightly, holding her in place as the jet dove again.

"Damn it, Vision!"

"Incoming!" came the answer from the cockpit.

The arms around her tensed as a roar filled the jet around them. Over his shoulder, Frankie saw with shock that a whole section of the craft just vanished into the night sky. Through the hole, she could see the neo-gothic outline of the Tribune Tower as her breath was sucked away along with the rest of the air in the jet.

The craft tilted wildly and, still locked together, the two of them fell towards the hole. Frankie let loose an involuntarily scream as they were almost sucked out of the cabin. At the last moment, though, Hawkeye released her and grabbed the sides of the opening to stop them. Frankie also grabbed the edges and wrapped her legs around his torso adding her strength to his to keep them in the jet.

Another shudder wracked the jet and they were sucked further out the hole. Frankie groaned with the effort to hang on to the jagged edges. Then the jet righted itself and tilted away from the opening, giving them some relief. She unlocked her legs and pushed away from him to step back and give him room as he pulled himself back into the jet.

Grudgingly, she held out a hand to help. He had, after all saved her life. It was the least she could do.

"Thanks," she sighed. "That was...,"

The jet banked hard and smashed into the Tribune Tower knocking Frankie back onto the deck. While she scrambled to find a handhold to brace herself, she looked over at Hawkeye. But he was gone. Nothing but the hole remained as the jet dipped and plummeted towards the ground.