Chapter Thirty-Seven
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Agent Everett Ross thought he was doing a pretty good job so far.
All things considered, it could've been much worse. What with his spine basically in pieces only a few days before, Everett thought himself a very lucky man indeed. He shouldn't even be walking, much less flying the super high tech Wakandan stealth fighter.
By far state of the art — or, perhaps, ahead of its time, at the forefront of technology, verging on future possibilities he couldn't even imagine yet. Even by SHIELD standards. Everett had always wanted to fly a repulsor-powered craft — and this was way better.
The Wakandan pilot controls were unlike any equipment he's used before, standard or non-standard. It was in its own class entirely, using some strange touch-control orbs, reminding him of not unlike the roller balls in computer mice of days gone by. It was so smooth, so intuitive, so unreal, that Everett felt as though he were playing a video game rather than experiencing real life.
They glided over the Wakandan mountaintops, North Africa in the distance, the faint haze of the Sahara on the edge of the horizon line.
Princess Shuri had given him a basic rundown of flight controls and procedures; how to activate radar, how to use stealth features, how to contact various ATC stations in order to guarantee safe passage to Switzerland.
Considering what happened in Geneva, Everett was surprised they had opened their airports again so soon.
Everett's biggest worry was if they would let him land given his current passenger on board.
He glanced nervously to his right. Ever since take-off, Mia (that is the only name he was given) hadn't said a word. Hours passed in total silence — aside from Everett speaking into the radio to establish contact and schedule a landing.
It went seamlessly, which just made Everett more nervous, wondering what this Mia was thinking. Everett did his best to make some light conversation. With a giant super soldier, the teenaged daughter of the Winter Soldier.
They probably shared some common ground, right?
"So," Everett started as the Mediterranean appeared before them, feeling its appearance lent itself to a sort of safety. "Looking forward to going home?"
Technically, he already knew the answer to that. He'd witnessed the argument she had with her father, and the King of Wakanda. But still. Small talk.
The girl sat in the copilot's seat, one knee up and slouched back in disinterest — just shrugged. "I guess."
"You guess?" Everett couldn't help but chuckle, thought it sounded a little anxious. "What, you don't miss sleeping in your own bed again? I know I do. Miss my Starbucks like nobody's business."
Mia did not answer.
Everett glanced at her and swallowed. His throat felt dry — he didn't know why. He's been in worse situations than this. Far more dire, immediately life-threatening. He's flown more dangerous and complicated missions than this. He's been shot at, ambushed, blown up on multiple occasions.
And still, this girl put him on edge.
Everett had to chalk it up to some old instinct — very old. Some ancient animal sense that he was in the presence of a predator. Just one that wasn't interested in him. Yet.
He was starting to get why people like Thunderbolt Ross (is that why she was so cold to him? They had no relation!) wanted her captured so badly.
Still, Everett was not beyond believing that she was probably still just a kid. Just a scared kid who wanted to go home and have a normal life. Isn't that what most teens wanted? To be normal?
"So," he started again, finding a second wind of confidence. "You're American."
Mia sighed. "Yeah."
See? Common ground.
"Oh yeah?" Everett cast her a quick smile. "Where from?"
She threw him a flat look, and said nothing.
Too late, he remembered who he was talking to. Who she was talking to. "Oh, right, right. Can't trust the CIA. Fair enough, won't hold it against you. Just here to get you home."
Everett didn't want to think about if he failed somehow. He still remembered the way the Winter Soldier pinned him down with that cold gaze, crushing Everett's hand in his grip. Nope. Failure was not an option.
The CIA would involve a lot of paperwork, a review, probably a suspension depending on the severity.
But the Winter Soldier?
He'd never see it coming.
"Well, I'm from Missouri," he offered. No point in lying when her father could discover the truth on his own. "The good ol' Ozarks. Actually, you know that movie Gone Girl? I grew up not too far from that place. Very interesting locale… well, not really, I suppose. You don't join the military and fly all over the world if you find home interesting…"
Everett was babbling. He knew it. A nervous tic from his youth that he'd since utilize effectively as an intelligence officer in the field — but that's not what was happening now. He wasn't purposefully trying to bamboozle and distract Mia.
He didn't expect it to get much of a response.
"Missouri, huh?" she seemed faintly intrigued. "Heard there are some cool caves there."
"Oh, yeah, they're fantastic! Terrifying, actually," Everett was relieved to have something to talk about. He'd hoped she'd speak more, so he could zero in on her accent. East Coast, definitely, he was sure of that. Northern half, probably from a city.
So that's what he did, talking the rest of the ride, with the occasional interjection from Mia. Everett wasn't sure he'd won her over until he got her to laugh at the story of his getting beat up in high school by Nancy McPhail. The worst defeat of his life. "High school's probably changed a lot since my day, huh?"
"It's different, you know, regionally," Mia shrugged, picking at her fingers. "But yeah, I mean, I don't know what it would've been like without the Internet. Without wondering what… what people might be saying about me that I might never see."
"Oh, right, that's gotta be rough," Everett nodded emphatically. His experience was bad enough, he didn't want to think about how it might've been worse. Adult Facebook was bad enough. "Of course, I don't have social media, you know, my job and all."
"Neither do I," She laughed softly. "For obvious reasons. But the less I know what everyone else is thinking, the better."
"So your friends don't know you're coming back?"
"My family does, I think," She replied. "I don't know about school. Guess I'll find out when I get there."
"You must be pretty close to graduating," Everett said, guessing her age. She looked older than she was, he thought, but the way she spoke hinted at her real age.
"Must be." she repeated softly, looking at the floor.
"Well, I'm sure you'll do great," Everett offered. WHat else is he going to say, tell this international fugitive she's screwed? But she definitely didn't come across as stupid, either. "Got college plans?"
"In theory."
"Well, you'll have one hell of a resume."
Mia snorted. "That's one way to put it." Then after a pause. "Thanks."
Everett flashed her a smile. "You got this."
There was little conversation after that, as Everett had to begin landing procedures — surrounded by sunlight and mountains on all sides, dropping down to the Swiss landing strip below. It was a military airstrip and there was already a welcoming committee waiting for them.
He was nervous there would be hostilities, that Mia might try to run or that they would try to arrest her. Everett wasn't sure what he was going to do, what he was going to say, as he stepped off the gangplank first.
There were seven people there. Three in suits and four in military garb and rifles. One of suits, he recognized as Agent Sharon Carter, her blonde hair fluttering in the wind. They all looked serious and unhappy, and everyone's eyes were on each other as Mia appeared at his side.
"How was the trip?" Carter asked, after introducing the American attaché and Swiss representative that was with her.
"Uneventful."
"Good," She didn't smile. "We'll have an hour to debrief, then we'll get you home, Mia."
Everett was surprised by the address, glancing at the tall girl beside him. But she only gave Agent Carter a short nod. He couldn't figure out how they knew each other, or the state of that relationship. It didn't look especially warm.
They headed towards the nearest building, which seemed to be an office structure in the military complex. Mia kept to Everett's side, looking up and seeming to admire the mountain vista around them before it disappeared behind the cold walls. Carter diverted briefly to fetch her supervisor for the conference, leaving the rest of them to be escorted to the conference room. "I'll be right back with Commander Willis. Stuck on another call again…"
As they passed through the door, she told him, "I need to use the restroom. Can't wait another hour."
"Oh, right," Everett said, remembering the lack of bathrooms on the airship. Then paused and added, "I'll go with you."
Mia stared at him.
"N-not inside," He stammered, shaking his head. "Just outside. You know."
He certainly wasn't stupid enough to just let her walk off on her own. The American and the Swiss gave their nods of approval, and two of the soldiers followed, keeping slight distance. They gestured to the nearby bathrooms, and Mia ducked into the women's.
Everett thought rather well of himself, as he stood sentry outside that door, trying to look more alert and sharp than he actually felt. He was exhausted. He could really use a cup of coffee. Or a nap.
He counted two minutes, then rapped on the door. "Mia? You alright in there?"
He didn't want to question the needs of a woman in the bathroom, but couldn't be too safe.
No response.
"Mia?" He frowned, just about to push the door open when Carter came around the corner.
She looked baffled to see him standing in front of the women's restroom. "What are you doing?"
"Just uh, just waiting, she's —"
"She's in there?" Carter demanded, cutting him off. "Who's in there with her?"
"Uh, no one —" Everett hadn't seen anyone else enter or leave.
Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, Carter slammed into the restroom with such a force the door cracked against the other wall. What followed came the booms as she checked each stall, a short silence, and then she flew out back into the hall. Her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed.
"She's gone," Carter said.
~ o ~
Norway was nice this time of year.
The fjords, the northern lights, the quiet air. No one for miles. Nothing but her little camper, parked in the middle of a river valley, running on its little generator. No internet, her laptop full of downloaded movies and shows. A stockpile of TV dinners and canned soup.
It wasn't heaven, but it was one of her better vacations.
Natasha was content.
Not happy, but content.
She didn't hear the approach. If she had, Natasha wouldn't have been spooked by the soft knocking at her door.
Natasha froze.
No one should know where she was. No one besides Mason, at least, but he would've communicated first before coming back. And he wasn't so good as to sneak up on her like this. Not capable of it.
This was someone else.
Very slowly, letting her laptop play on, she pulled the pistol from beneath the couch cushions. Leaning over gently enough not to make the springs squeak, she peeked out past the curtains of the window next to her head.
One person stood outside, at the door.
Not military. Not intelligence.
Not anyone who would want to be here.
Natasha sucked in a breath. She dropped the gun to her side as she launched to her feet and whipped open the door.
She stared.
There stood a girl, wearing second hand clothes that didn't quite fit, a backpack strapped to her back and what was clearly her shield covered in canvas hanging over it. She looked disheveled, her boots and knees covered in mud, as if she'd walked all the way here from Wakanda.
Mia lifted a hand. "Hi."