AN: Long time no see! This post marks the beginning of my SaD May 2015 posts. Yes, I am woefully behind, as per usual. Still, here is the first of the Avenger related one-shots. Hope you enjoy.
Prompt: 40 minute limit. "Mayday, Mayday."
The cabin shook violently, the controls rattling apart in his hands as the water rushed up to meet them. His teammates yelled and clutched at anything they could reach, life vests already fastened and inflated.
"Mayday, mayday, we are going down! Do you copy? I repeat, we are going down!"
"Copy that, Captain! We've marked your location with a beacon. Agents are in route; stay as close to the wreckage as possible."
"Roger."
Heart in his throat, Steve dropped the controls and yanked at his harness.
Stuck.
His blood ran cold. He scrabbled at the contraption, pulling against it with all his strength, panic whiting out all other thought. He thought Tony was screaming his name, but G-d, the ocean—
They hit the water dead on.
Steve had forgotten how deafening the slam of water against metal and glass was. His eardrums popped and he blacked out for an instant as the ocean forced its way into the cabin, slapping the air from his chest. All the lights in the cockpit shone an eerie red and J-sus, it was even worse the second time.
But it was different this time, wasn't it? He was in the Pacific, too far south to freeze solid. There would be no waking up from this. His lungs ached; his air was gone. He twisted in his seat far enough to see the others, praying that they, at least, could get out.
He caught sight of Natasha, just as she was pushing through the emergency hatch, dragging Tony behind her like a broken doll. Clint was forcing his way to the front of the plane, just a few feet away now.
Clint was coming. Clint could help.
Steve clenched his eyes shut and twisted forward again, still pulling at the harness. Another hand slapped his away and he opened his eyes to see Clint brandishing a pocketknife. Steve grimaced and moved his hands, watching Clint saw at the thick harness with rapidly dimming vision. Unable to stand it anymore, he swallowed a lungful of saltwater just as the first strap popped free. He convulsed, choking and sputtering as Clint sawed at the remaining strap. Clint jerked him out of the pilot's chair, but he was too far gone to help, vision blurring. He revived for a moment when Clint shook him, his limbs flailing for purchase, but his strength drained away as quickly as it had come. His vision went dark and he could only think—
I've got no plans tomorrow night.