In Their Hands ✧･ BARNES ✔

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   CLINT AND NATASHA FRANTICALLY continued to shout at each other. Zola could hear it through her headphones and it was starting to anger her. She pulled them off of her head and frowned at the new clarity of her parent's yelling.

  Zola heard her mother shout something along the lines of, "It's there". Zola didn't know too much English, but she understood those words. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, curious to find out what made her say it. Zola scanned the space around her slowly. She didn't see anything.

   She leaned to the right when she saw her mom looking through a mirror on her own right side. She tried to get a better look into the mirror, but it was impossible from the distance. She decided to push herself up in her seat by gripping the arm rests.

   Zola turned around and tried to look out of a small window in the back of the jet. It was kind of far back so she couldn't see too much, but when she really focused, the black and red wasn't hard to make out. She narrowed her eyes as if it would help her see a little better. Before she was able to identify the figure that was engraved into the side of the jet, Clint stopped her.

   "Hey, hey. Audrey, sit down!" He shouts, struggling to maintain calm control of the wheel. Zola dropped down into her seat because of how stern he'd managed to say the words. She didn't want to frustrate him so she willingly listened the first time.

   "What was it?" Zola asks, turning her head to face her parents. She had a strong feeling that they wouldn't tell her. She wasn't prepared to see those people again, and not knowing that they were a few yards away wouldn't prepare her any better. 

   Neither of them answered and they instead stared at each other with lost but intense expressions. They knew that there was absolutely no way to run from them, but there had to be some way to get away. At least one, right? They just had to figure out what that one possibility was. 

   Depending on how many of them there were, maybe the three of them could take them out? But Zola was very small, and even if she could fight, she wasn't strong. She was only eight, after all. Clint was selling  and holding his punches when he fought her back in Budapest. She was small and kind of frail. She might have been a killing machine, but he still didn't want to hurt her that night.

   He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to fail at the one job he had. He just had to protect them. He didn't know how, though. His head darted all over the corners of jet as if he were going to get an idea somehow. They were right there, behind him. There was no way he could come up with something. They were only yards away.

   "I'm gonna land," he says suddenly and hesitantly. He swallows fearfully because his plan could go well or horribly. It wasn't really a plan because it wasn't thought out too well. 

   Natasha's eyes darken but widen at once. She nearly choked on air at the words that he had the audacity to speak. She turned her head abruptly to face him, even if he purposely didn't look back at her.

  "I'm gonna go and distract them. I'll find you after I take them all," he says, driving the jet to the ground. "Oh, and when I said land, I meant crash. Hopefully they'll think we're dead and they'll leave us alone." He finishes hesitantly. He swallows again just because he was kind of afraid of Natasha right now.

   "Clint!"   Natasha growled in reprimand. He had to be joking. 

   "Fine, you come up with something!" He suggests angrily. There was nothing else that he could think of, and she had a lot to say about it.