Most of the flight was in darkness, but no one was worried. Natasha preferred flying in the dark. Bucky had a nap, and Steve filled up on muesli bars and jerky. One time, when she got up for a stretch and to use the bathroom, Natasha caught Bucky's eye. He gave her a small half-smile and she smiled in return, but could read on his face that he was still in a lot of pain. Natasha returned to the pilot's seat, and made no remark. She didn't have to.
It was raining heavily when they landed on the deck of the offshore prison, and their landing had been bumpy to say the least. Second-in-command at the prison was one of Hill's men, and he had re-arranged the roster to make things as easy as possible for them, though the prison was still heavily guarded.
"If anything goes wrong," Steve said, waiting at the door, "Any sign of trouble, you're not to wait." They had considered Natasha going in with him, but that would leave Bucky alone in the Quinjet, and in no fit state to fly it. So Steve would be going in alone. They had hoped that there would be a set of comms in the Quinjet, but none had been found. All the could do now was hope for a miracle.
"Steve…"
"I'm serious Natasha," Steve said, waiting for her to open the door, "Any trouble, anything, and you and Bucky get out of here."
Bucky looked down.
"Nat?" Steve asked again, needing to hear an answer.
"Ok," Natasha said.
"Ok," Steve said, forcing himself to believe her. "Let's see if Hill is as amazing as she thinks she is."
"She is," Natasha said.
Steve looked back at Natasha and Bucky. "Open sesame."
Natasha opened the door and Steve stepped out into the darkness. Cold air filled the cabin, and Natasha closed the door again. Rain pelted the windows, obscuring their view of the outside world.
After a few minutes of silence, Bucky said, "How long do we wait?"
"As long as we can. Don't worry, I can live with having to leave a man behind," Natasha said. She fiddled with the dashboard, making sure everything was ready for a quick get away. At the first sign of trouble, they were out of there.
"Natasha?"
"Yeah?"
"We wouldn't really leave them behind."
Natasha bit her lip to hide a smile. "No. Not unless I had no other choice. But we might not have to. Heads up." She opened the door to the Quinjet, just as two shadows in the darkness reached it.
"Oh, man, I am pumped with adrenaline. This is so exciting. Hey, look, it's that guy! And that lady. Pretty sure you were fighting us last time we saw you. Are we friends now? That's the super cool. Wow, this plane is amazing. Is there food somewhere. Can I sit shot-gun? Wow. This rescue mission is going great."
"Where are the others?" Natasha asked.
"Shut the door," said Clint, as he climbed into the Quinjet behind Scott, wiping his face dry with his shirt.
"Where are they, Clint?" Natasha repeated, feeling her stomach drop.
"They're coming," Clint said, slipping into the co-pilot seat. "Wanda was more tightly secured than the rest of us. Steve and Sam are getting her out. Steve told us to go. I wasn't gunna argue."
"Oh, man, why does he get to fly shot-gun?"
"Can you fly these things?" Clint asked, at the end of his tether with Scott.
"No. Can you?"
"Yes," Clint said.
"Wow. That's great. I wish I could fly planes. I thought about studying aeronautical engineering, but they were all like, super-nerds. I'll sit back here, opposite this guy. Woah. What the hell happened to your arm?"
"Stark," Bucky muttered, wishing he could disappear into the seat. These people had been imprisoned because of him. It was one thing knowing it, but something else to actually see them.
"Oh, shit. Sorry man," Clint said. "So, we're on our own and have no friends?" he asked Natasha.
"We've got some friends," she said. "But I'm gunna need Steve to hurry up."
"That's what I said," Scott said, "And Cap was all, 'Nat's waiting. You guys get out of here. Go.' And Sam was all 'No, not without you.' And Cap didn't say anything, but Clint and I got the heck out of there, because that place sucked. I mean, it was prison. And I've been to prison before, and that prison sucked even more than the normal ones."
Bucky felt his stomach tighten, and for a moment, he was in a burning factory, with only moments to spare. He closed his eyes, but that only made the image clearer. He knew how that ended, but it didn't make it any less frightening. They get out. They have to get out.
"The food was rubbish," Scott continued, "And I've had some pretty bad prison food in my time. Also, what's with this uniform? Bright blue? What's wrong with orange? And now I'm all wet. Gee, Steve sure is taking his time."
"There's food in that bag," Bucky said, gesturing towards the two bags, "And dry clothes."
"Oh, thanks man. I am famished. Wow, look at all this stuff," Scott opened the bags.
"Chuck me some fresh clothes," Clint said, pulling off his prison tops and throwing them at Scott.
"Grey t-shirt. Navy hoodie," Scott said, chucking the tops to Clint. Natasha kept her eye on the opening for Steve, Sam and Wanda. She found herself tapping her foot with impatience. With Scott and Clint on board, she'd leave if she had to. And they were getting very close to having to. Alarms would have been raised by now. Clint pulled on the fresh clothes and strapped himself in.
"Chuck us something to eat if you find it," Clint said, while Scott changed his shirts.
"Just a moment, I'm looking. This bag is huge. It's like the TARDIS. Or that bag in Mary Poppins. My kid loved Mary Poppins. Now she wants dancing penguins. I loved that film when I was a kid too, but I wanted the flying tea-party. How cool would that be!" Scott said.
Natasha interrupted as Scott paused for breath, "Once you're dressed, sit down and strap in. It's going to be a bumpy departure."
Scott opened the food bag, and threw Clint an energy bar, a chocolate, and a bottle of water, then sat on the bench opposite Bucky with his own supplies and fiddled with the straps. "It's so nice to be wearing a hoodie. Damn, I just love hoods. Aren't they the greatest? No ties or shoe-laces for prisoners. Or hoodie strings. Where are we going? Is this how the seatbelt works? Does this plane have stealth mode? That would be so cool. These energy bars taste funny. Not like, bad funny or anything, just funny. Maybe I'm just not used to decent food. What is in these?"
"Hey, Lang?" Clint said with his mouth full of his own energy bar, "Eat and don't talk for a minute, ok?"
"Yeah, sure, ok. No worries. I can do that. Hey look! Is that - "
"Strap in," Natasha said, opening the door as Steve and Sam hurried towards the Quinjet, supporting Wanda.
"Go, Nat!" Steve called as they stumbled in, "Go! Go!"
Natasha closed the door and together, she and Clint prepared for emergency take-off.
"Tic-Tac, strap in," Sam said, sliding in beside, Scott. Wanda sat on the bench beside the bags, and Steve strapped her. Wanda was pale and look terrified.
"You're ok now," Steve said to her, and pushed back her hair, "You're going to be ok. Close your eyes, go to sleep. You're gunna be ok."
Wanda gripped the seatbelt, and Steve sat beside her.
"You ok?" Steve asked, leaning over to Bucky.
Bucky gave as much of a shrug as he could manage.
The Quinjet jolted and lurched as they took off. "Good evening everyone, this is your captain speaking," Natasha said, forcing the plane higher, "Welcome on board, and let this be proof that with good planning and a tonne of luck, miracles do happen. We're currently experiencing a lot of turbulence, which will continue until we get to altitude, and away from this weather system, so don't expect the first hour to be particularly enjoyable. There are motion sickness tablets in the food bag, but if you think it's too late, there are sick bags behind the front seat. It's 14 hours to our destination of Wakanda. In-flight entertainment is limited to none. Maybe try get some sleep. It's been a long day."
Clint looked between the screens in front of them and the darkness ahead, "And so this becomes another 'Aunty Nat Saves The Day' story."
"The kids love those," Natasha said.
"I know," said Clint, "But the occasional 'Daddy Saves The Day' story would be kinda nice."
"Then stop getting captured, mind-washed or running out of arrows, and you might one," Natasha said, and glanced across at Clint. He pulled a face and she smirked.