So, it's been quite a while since I managed to update any of my stories - apologies for that! This chapter took a slightly different turn to what I originally intended - I hope it turned out okay!
Thank you to anyone who takes the time to continue reading this. Reviews are always welcome and appreciated.
Hope you're all taking care of yourselves.
Enjoy :)
The quinjet was a buzz of activity after Tony had finished briefing the other Avengers on their plan of action. He left them excitedly gearing up and went to join Natasha who was, once again, expertly manning the aircraft.
"You gonna fill me in yet on where exactly we're going?" They were currently flying over a vast expanse of ocean and Tony could see nothing else but the choppy water and steely grey sky. "Is this like Azkaban or something?"
Natasha threw him a quick smirk of appreciation.
"I didn't know you could read." She ducked deftly as Tony took a playful swipe at her head.
"Don't give cheek to your elders."
"The Raft is completely submerged in the Atlantic Ocean. In order to be granted access to it you have to be able to, firstly, approach from the correct direction and send out your approach signal from exactly 365 metres away. Then you have to provide a password."
"Okaaaay…and we know the password, yeah?"
"Not exactly," Natasha tapped the headset she was wearing, "I hacked into their radio system as soon as we left; unfortunately no one has entered just yet but if my calculations are correct, which they usually are, this flying bus or whatever it is should be arriving about an hour before us."
"And we're sure the password won't change within that time? Or they won't want us to state specific expected business before they let us land?"
"The password only changes every six months and they assume everyone who finds the place and passes that test has a right to be there; I guess when you're near impossible to find and unknown to 99% of the world's population you get a little lax with security measures."
"And what happens, oh wise one, if we get there before this bus does?"
Natasha's nonchalant shrug was typical of the redhead's approach to missions, as far as Tony had witnessed; her and Barton had been left stranded many times when missions had gone south, but they had always managed to claw together a victory and successful escape plan.
"We'll loop round a few times; we've got enough fuel to last us, but I'd rather not be flagged on their radar before we intend to approach. If there is no sign of the bus by 14:00 then we'll call it a day and try again when we have further intel."
"You know, you're pretty smart for a kid; how would you feel if I recruited you into my Stark Industries Academy for Bright Young Minds?"
"Do I get to shoot people?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then I'm not interested."
"Noted." Tony left the young assassin with a friendly pat on the shoulder, before heading back to join their other comrades.
Whilst Thor, Clint and Steve were exchanging tactics on the best way to take down an enhanced individual whose speed made them almost invisible, Bruce had removed himself from the group and was sitting morosely in the far corner of the jet. Tony approached him cautiously, not wanting to disturb the young scientist if he wanted some time alone. When Bruce glanced up and offered him a small, watery smile Tony took that as an indication that it was okay to approach.
"You okay, big guy?"
Bruce gave a half-hearted shrug but offered Tony a small smile, which he took as a good sign that it was safe to sit down with his young friend.
Tony nudged the young scientist with his shoulder.
"I'm going to say something now that is so insanely profound and astounding that you'll probably want to write it down for posterity's sake…"
Bruce glanced up at the dark-haired billionaire curiously, wondering what could possibly be about to come out of Tony's mouth.
"…what happened back there, was not your fault."
Bruce rolled his eyes and turned his face away, but not before Tony saw the youngster trying to fight off a smile.
"Listen, bud," Tony continued, wrapping his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Remember how I told you guys that your transformation had somehow caused a slight regression in your ability to control your emotions and how you expressed them?" Tony waited for Bruce's nod of affirmation before continuing. "And do you remember the remarkable discovery you had many moons ago that the Hulk's appearance was directly linked to your outbursts of anger?" Again, he waited for Bruce's confirmation before he went on to his next point. "Well, if your transformation into a pre-teen causes you to lose control of your emotions and causes you to react more impulsively than as an adult, it's really quite miraculous that we've only had two minor incidents, don't you think?"
Bruce did not look as happy or relieved by Tony's revelation as the philanthropist would like: tough crowd.
"I'd hardly call trying to kill you a 'minor incident', Tony." Tony was about to issue a witty rebuttal but was brought up short when he noticed silent tears rolling down Bruce's face. The boy did not try to hide his face or move away from his friend as he was pulled into a strong-armed hug.
"That was not you, do you hear me?"
"B-but it i-is," Bruce sobbed against Tony's chest, "they're b-both m-me, c-can't you s-s-see that?"
Tony was at a loss for words, yes, I know; miracles do happen. He was unsure how he could reassure his friend when the boy was actually speaking the truth. Both Bruce and the Hulk, no matter how the former tried to fight against it, were one and the same; two sides of a coin. Tony knew that trying to convince Bruce otherwise would be futile, but he also knew that he could not allow him to blame himself for something so far outside of his own control.
As Tony cast about for the right words to soothe the boy beside him he was relieved to note that the other guys had had the sensitivity and good sense to subtly move themselves to the front of the aircraft to give Bruce and Tony some privacy.
"Listen, bud, everyone has their demons. For some, it's an addiction they can't kick, for others it's daddy issues that manifest into some questionable behaviour. For you – well, for you it's a literal green rage-monster who sometimes gets the better of you. But the fact that you have a handle on that and can, for the most part, control it is beyond amazing to me."
"It's not good enough though, is it?" Bruce sounded defeated as he rebutted Tony's praise. "It's my own stupid fault the Hulk exists in the first place, so every 'minor incident', every injury or death that happens because of him, is really because of me. That's a debt I can never repay."
Tony sighed heavily, knowing there was little he could say to argue against that logic. He knew, if the roles were reversed, he'd feel exactly the same. His own guilt over the weapons that had been made in his name, and the damage they had ultimately caused, was something he knew he would never be able to escape. For Bruce to live with the weapon that he had inadvertently created, literally waiting every second of the day for it to burst out and wreak havoc once more, must be completely soul-destroying.
Before he could say anything further, the craft banked sharply to the left causing both Bruce and Tony to jar into one another painfully. Just as they managed to get their balance back, the jet then banked just as sharply to the right.
"Hey Red, do we need to revoke your licence?" Tony called out as he struggled to his feet. Only then, however, did he realise the reason for Natasha's erratic flying or, rather, non-Natasha's erratic flying: the young redhead was not manning the craft at all, instead Thor had taken charge of the quinjet and, for all his godly powers and brilliance in battle, it turned out that piloting a human aircraft was not one of his many skills.
As Tony struggled to reach the front of the jet, he was glad to see Clint scramble to the pilot's seat and shove the small god out of the way. Thor seemed only too happy to give up the reins to someone else and Tony breathed a sigh of relief as the jet levelled out and continued on a smoother course.
His relief, however, was short-lived as Thor's anxious stare alerted him to a more pressing problem. He followed the gaze of the young god and his eyes lighted on the prone form of Natasha stretched out on the floor. Steve was crouched over her tiny body, with both of his hands pressed against her stomach. Blood was starting to seep through his fingers, and he threw a helpless look to Tony, silently begging for his help.
The billionaire finally managed to get his limbs moving and joined Steve at Natasha's side, adding the pressure of his own hands on top of the captain's.
"What in the hell happened?" he questioned hoarsely, amidst shouting orders to Jarvis to ready the small medi-lab that was on board.
Steve shook his head mutely, his pale lips trying to mouth words that he couldn't seem to speak out loud. Instead he jerked his head in the direction of the cockpit and Tony frantically searched the area with his eyes until they alighted on a clear problem.
Near the top of the glass was a small hole, about the size of a bullet.
"Who?" was all Tony could say.
"Shield," came Clint's angry, clipped retort. "Fighter jet. They knew we were coming."
Tony felt the air expel painfully from his lungs. Shield had done this. Shield had wilfully shot one of their best and most loyal agents just to stop them reaching the Raft and interfering with their experiments.
Tony had mistrusted the agency for some time, basically forever, but he had not thought them capable of this. The Shield they knew had been disbanded in the wake of Steve and Natasha's discovery of the Hydra agents working in their midst. Those that were left, who had started to rebuild the organisation, were supposed to be the good guys. Clearly, this lot have not got the memo.
"Can we outfly them?" Tony directed the question to Clint, who seemed to be the only one capable of any form of speech at the moment.
"If not," he huffed, "we can certainly outgun them."
Tony hoped that course of action would not be necessary; he knew in reality that, if pushed, Shield would have more than enough ammo and resources on their side to overpower the Avengers in their current state. What worried Tony more at the moment was that Natasha's small body was completely limp in his arms as he picked her up. He rushed quickly to the medi-lab and lay her out on the table. He cut quickly at her plain, dark top which was soaked with blood, exposing her pale, skin beneath. He tried to ignore the other scars that frequented her stomach and focused his attention solely on the fresh wound that was still bleeding profusely. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he instructed Jarvis to bring up any videos that would help him perform minor surgery on the youngster.
Steve had joined him in the lab and, despite his pale, stricken face, he proved himself to be a capable surgeon. Tony knew from past conversations that Steve's skills had developed during his time in the army. Tony thanked whatever deity might be listening that the super soldier had not lost any of his abilities after his more recent transformation.
Getting the bullet out proved a tricky business and Tony was sweating profusely by the time they managed to extract the copper-coloured pellet. He had no time to marvel over how much damage such a small object could do, as the heart monitor hooked up to Natasha started bleeping ominously. At the sound, Bruce came running into the lab and started completing compressions on the redhead's chest trying to restart her heart.
Tony could feel his own heart pounding painfully against his ribcage as he silently begged and pleaded with Natasha to fight for them. He needed her to get through this; the team needed her. After what seemed like an age Bruce finally stepped away from the table, a small, thankful smile on his face. It took Tony another minute to understand why he had stopped the compressions. The steady beep beep of the heart monitor filling his whole body with relief. His feelings were clearly mirrored in the faces of the two boys standing on either side of the small assassin.
When they had finished stitching up Natasha's newest bullet wound Tony finally left the lab, trusting Steve and Bruce to keep an eye on the still-unconscious girl. He joined Thor and Clint at the front of the craft and Clint's pinched face, he knew, had nothing to do with his difficult task of avoiding Shield agents and everything to do with the fate of his best friend.
"She's gonna be okay, bud," Tony reassured him, clasping him gently on the shoulder. He felt a slight reduction of the tension in Clint's small frame, but he knew the archer would not relax completely until he had assessed Natasha's condition for himself.
"How're we looking?" he asked the boy.
"We lost 'em about a half hour ago," was Clint's reply. "They seemed to pull back once we were a few miles out."
"Great; good work, Clint," Tony patted his shoulder a few times before he issued his next instruction. "Scoot – go see Nat."
"You sure you can handle this, Gramps?"
Tony swatted the archer away playfully before sinking into his vacated seat. He felt all the tension and adrenaline seep out of his body and it took all of his concentration to make sense of the dials and levers in front of his tired eyes. Thor, who had taken up position in the co-pilot seat, tried to provide advice and support but Tony found things went more smoothly when he ignored the god completely.
He gratefully realised that Natasha had installed a very handy GPS system into the quinjet's controls, and he was able to bring up directions back to the beach house after only three failed attempts. His mind and body felt heavy with the events of the past hour and he tried desperately to make sense of what had just happened as they flew home.
His theorising was interrupted suddenly as a loud ringing echoed through the quinjet. A monitor to his right was flashing up 'Incoming Call'. Tony glanced over to Thor who looked just as mystified as the billionaire felt. He reached over to accept the call and the screen filled with the face of one Nicholas J. Fury. Tony felt all of his hatred and revulsion at Shields' actions level themselves at the man looking out at him from the monitor.
"Oh, you have got to be shitting me."
"I shit you not, Mr Stark," came Fury's deadpan response. "You and I have a lot to discuss when you return." Tony could just make out the background of the videocall and realised, with mounting unease, that Fury was standing in his beach house. He did not know whether Fury was aware that Natasha was injured, or even if he would care at this point, but he could certainly tell that the former director was pissed.
Before Tony could alert him to Natasha's condition, Fury had terminated the call. After a few minutes, Thor retreated to the medi-lab to inform the others of what had just transpired, leaving Tony to stew in his worry and anger. He had no idea what would happen to them once they landed; could Fury have them arrested for trying to invade the Raft? Would they be put in the Raft themselves? Although he knew it was futile to speculate on things that he would never be able to guess the answer to, he found himself doing little else for the remainder of the journey.