Bed of Roses [N. Romanoff]

Chapter 2.19

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Natasha listened along to each thump of pumping blood. Black cased headphones covered her ears, leaving the echo that proved how well-alive she still was. The world around her became silent, not even a whisper reaching her thoughts, and she faced towards the clouds moving below them.

From behind her, Steve watched the Red-Head concentrate on flying the quinjet as he readied their gear for the landing. The Man out of Time was given the job of figuring out new ways to hide undetectable handguns in their outfits, for they never knew when they would be made and need the extra help, especially now.

His eyes looked up to the pictures pinned above her, pictures that implied that this was about to become their home and day-to-day life now. Life in the quinjet, and rendezvousing around the globe to continue doing what's right, and taking out what's bad.

The couple of ex-avengers had priorities to attend to, and problems to acknowledge. First and foremost, if they want their friends to survive the next few weeks, they have to go out and get them.

He adjusted the sleeve of his jacket to cover up a strapped knife, and allowed his eyes to travel away from Natasha's scene, to the box sitting on the small chair in front of him. He knew perfectly well what was inside, and the second he had his team, he would mail the contents to Tony Stark.

"Tony, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself."

A bright green light flashed, and then flashed again, catching both Cap and Nat's attention. The dashboard blinked to life, and the stealth navigation began. A grin formed and Natasha's lips once realising this, and she began to click and flip untouched switches and typed in co-ordinates. Someone, somewhere, had sent them the information needed to find a secret jail facility in the middle of the ocean that they were flying above.

"We all need family. The Avengers are yours. Maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army."

Steve's mood perked up at the thought, and he slowly sauntered to the co-pilot seat, and shifted his weight down. His hands rested on top of the dashboard, and his hopeful eyes widened at Nat for confirmation that they were in the right place.

Without a nod, she flicked down her microphone and pressed a darkened-black button next to the navigation panel.

"This is SHIELD-1-80 requesting landing permission," she spoke into the mic.

Steve didn't hear the reply, but when the water below them started to get sucked away by an imaginary vacuum, he assumed Nat had said something right. They circled the platform, and a round landing pit rose from the ocean waves and opened its hydraulic roof to allow them to land.

"My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't."