Chapter 46.
"Shit."
"Yeah, I know." Natasha checked her guns again. It was only the twentieth time since takeoff. Being helpless was driving her insane.
"No, no, not that." Clint gestured to his earpiece, where JARVIS was communicating with him. "On speaker, JARVIS – cockpit only. Repeat that, please."
"Sir, the National Earthquake Information Centre in Colorado is receiving early reports and seismic readings of a series of small quakes centred on San Juan, Puerto Rico. I am currently in the process of logging into all nearby seismographic monitoring centres to analyse the data."
Clint and Natasha shared a wondering look. "Hope Darcy gets through to Heimdall," Clint said after a moment, "because this really does sound like it might be beyond us Earthlings."
"Just get us there as fast as you can manage, Clint." Natasha rose from her seat. "And keep me updated, JARVIS." She picked up a spare earbug and put it in. "Just me and Clint for now."
"Give me an open circuit to the others," Clint said crisply, "we need to make some planning decisions."
Natasha pulled up maps on screen, overlaid with the data May had sent her once she'd finally convinced her stubborn girlfriend to talk. A quick conversation about the limits they would be operating under, and they had a plan.
Sam would take over piloting the jet, and he would drop Steve and Natasha at the Ponce de Leon. Natasha would stay topside, find May, Bobbi and Hunter and make damned sure there was no more HYDRA resistance to impede their exit, while Steve went down into the tunnels. Of them all, he was best equipped to operate at peak capacity without needing technology anyway.
Barnes and Clint would be dropped at the watchtower, and Barnes would secure the area and look after Fitz and Jemma while Clint went into the tunnels from the other end to try and find Trip – and perhaps Mack. He could use his quiver selector before he went below to arm arrowheads that would be most use, conventional contact chemical explosives and standard sharp tips. Barnes' arm was partly mechanical and partly electronic and would almost certainly be more hindrance than help underground.
Once he'd dropped them off, Sam would then co-ordinate above-ground operations from the air, stay in touch with Tony and JARVIS, and generally try to keep the whole world from falling on their heads.
"The NEIC is reporting repeating quakes averaging around Richter 2.6, sir," JARVIS reported, in Clint and Natasha's ears only. "No major structural damage has been reported as yet. The quakes are unusual in that they are occurring at regular intervals of around every 3 minutes."
"Four minutes to first drop," was all Clint said over the open com, but he and Natasha shared very concerned looks. Who knew what quakes like that could be doing to an ancient city buried underground, and partly under the sea? One crack and the whole place would be underwater.
Sam came to take over piloting, and Clint moved into the back and grabbed Boudicca and his quiver, cycling quickly through options to preload all his arrowheads. The selector itself likely wouldn't work underground, and neither would his laser sight, not that he needed it. He snapped on his arm guards and a pair of rappelling gloves.
"Sixty seconds," Sam said, and Natasha came to stand by Steve as they felt the Avenjet dropping lower. Steve was almost vibrating with tension as he slipped his shield onto his back.
"I'll see you underground," Clint handed Steve a paper printout of the map JARVIS had produced and a handful of chemlights – at least they'd work. "Don't be reckless."
"Not with Skye down there." Steve's eyes were focussed, intent.
Clint exchanged a glance with Natasha. She gave him one of her half-smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and then it was time to drop. Clint and James grabbed onto straps as Steve and Natasha jumped, only Nat bothering with a parachute.
Steve landed ahead of Natasha, dropping onto the roof of the building, throwing his shield up and waiting for the gunfire. When none came, he lowered it cautiously. The building tremored under his feet suddenly, shockingly, a few roof tiles sliding down to smash on the pavement far below.
"Rogers?" a feminine voice said in astonishment. He whirled.
"Oh. Agent Morse." He'd worked with her briefly – very briefly – back when S.H.I.E.L.D. was still a proper organisation, under Director Fury. Before the Avengers even, come to think of it. Beautiful and clever, she'd asked a lot of probing questions before he'd wearied of it and asked Fury to take her off his case. She stood staring at him now, her long blonde hair falling around her shoulders, dressed in combat gear, her favoured stun batons in her hands.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
He considered and discarded a number of options. In the end, he settled for the simple truth. "I'm here for Skye."
Morse looked surprised, and Steve wondered at the lack of trust within Coulson's team, that she apparently didn't know about him and Skye.
A slightly shorter man stepped out of the doorway behind Morse, running a comprehensive glance over Steve. In the hard eyes and short-shaven hair, Steve recognised a professional soldier. This must be Lance Hunter, Morse's ex-husband and Clint's former friend, confirmed a moment later when the man spoke in a distinct English accent.
"Then you'd better come this way, Uncle Sam."
"Wait," he jerked a thumb upwards and they both looked up. Natasha landed beside Steve less than fifteen seconds later, cutting neatly free from her parachute and striding forward.
"Area clear?" she addressed Hunter, not bothering with Morse, who gave her a venomous glare.
"Yes, ma'am."
Well, apparently Hunter was no fool. He showed Natasha the respect she deserved.
"Let's go, then."
"Where's Barton?" Morse asked, and Natasha tensed.
"Not that it's any of your fucking business, Bobbi, but he went to secure the other end of the tunnels, and to go in after his friends."
Hunter was glaring at Morse. And then Natasha seemed to lose her temper with both of them. She strode up to Bobbi and gave her a slap across the face hard enough to send the taller woman reeling.
"This isn't the time or the place, you silly bitch. But stop using Clint to take out your fucking insecurities on. If you'd paid attention to your own fucking marriage in the first place none of your so-called problems would even exist. I'm tired of your bullshit, and if you do one more thing to risk Clint's relationship with Jemma – I will kill you." And she stormed past Morse into the building, checking her phone for May's location, not looking back.
Stunned, Steve went after Natasha. She had her priorities straight, at least. Behind him, he could hear Hunter and Morse talking, almost shouting at each other as they followed.
"What the fuck, Bob? What did she mean?"
"Not now, Lance!"
"Yes the fuck now. What have you been doing with Jemma?"
"Nothing! You flirted with her."
"I was only interested in finding out how serious she is about Clint. She's clearly crazy in love with him. What's going on?"
"I was jealous of you flirting with her," Bobbi confessed.
"What? You're not serious."
"Of course I'm fucking serious, Lance, you never put me first."
"Bob, I fucking always put you first! I left the SAS when you asked me to, I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. for you… you were the one who took that undercover assignment and left without a fucking word; next thing I heard Coulson was calling to tell me you'd taken a hit of sex pollen and fucked my best friend!"
Ouch. Steve winced.
"You didn't want me afterwards," Bobbi sounded like she was crying. "I didn't even remember doing it and you didn't want me."
"I thought you wanted him," Hunter's voice was low and hard.
"I didn't, and he didn't want me anyway…"
Natasha stopped in her jog down a flight of stairs, and Steve caught up with her. He gave her a quizzical look, but she looked past him, at Hunter and Morse following them. Tears were indeed running down Bobbi Morse's beautiful face.
"The only thing Clint ever told me about it is that you cried and begged for Lance all night," Natasha said quietly. "Which he would have told either or both of you stupid idiots if you'd ever have fucking let him. He blindfolded you and mimicked Lance's accent because he couldn't save you otherwise, Bobbi. You couldn't come until he did."
Both of them looked shocked. Natasha shook her head and started running down the stairs again.
"Fucking idiots and their bad timing," she muttered.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Bobbi sobbed at Hunter.
"Later," was all he could say, stunned and unable to deal right now.
"I thought Jemma said Clint couldn't do an English accent?" Steve caught up with Natasha.
"Won't. Not can't." They reached the basement at last, and Natasha saw May, standing over a hole with a petrified look on her face.
"Nat, oh thank God you're here," Melinda didn't leave her post, but the look she gave Natasha said it all.
"You fucking idiot," Natasha enfolded her girlfriend in her arms. "Why didn't you call?"
"I'm deputy director," May hung her head. "It wasn't my place to defy Coulson's orders."
"Down there?" Steve grabbed hold of the two women, perilously close to the hole, as the ground started shaking again.
"Yes. It's been too long." There were tears on May's face, Steve saw with surprise. But then he had the impression that Skye was like a daughter to her, her team were her family. "I think – I don't know. I think they're all dead."
"Not if I can help it." And Steve jumped into the hole.
"Jesus!" And then Hunter strode forward, picking up the cable. "Let me down, May."
"Lance, no!" Bobbi ran towards him, grabbing his arm. "Don't go down there!"
He took her face firmly in his rough hands and gave her one long, hard kiss. "Clint's down there. And from the sounds of things, I owe him your life. So I'm gonna go get him and our team and we're all going home. Now pull yourself the fuck together and let me down."
"I love you," she sobbed, grabbing the winch.
"I love you too."
"Don't die down there."
The last thing she saw was his face, looking up at her out of the darkness, and then he gave her his twisty grin. "I'm too fucking stubborn to die, darlin'. Back soon."
So – maybe Bobbi's not so bad after all, hmm? Now let's find out what's happening at Clint's end of the tunnels…
… well, in a couple of hours, when I plan to post the next chapter, anyway.