Shattered Souls | 18+

8. The Return

It's a bittersweet thing saying goodbye to T'Challa. Toni knows she'll see him again. One day. She just doesn't know when One Day will be. They both have responsibilities now. Still, she thanks him for everything and gives him a tight hug that doesn't last as long as she wishes it would. She hugs Shuri too, and Sam, who pulls her into his chest before she has the chance to object. It's nice, she thinks, to have friends again. To feel like she's part of a team. Though, now, she's leaving them behind. Again.

At least this time she's the one walking away. And, she supposes, she doesn't have a broken chest. That's a plus.

Bucky and Steve hug, and Steve mutters something too quiet for Toni to hear. Maximoff nods solemnly in Toni's general direction. She nods back, then boards the quinjet.

"Toni, wait." It's Steve. Toni only half-turns. "Be careful. Try not to get yourself killed."

She only gives the captain a dagger-edged smile over her shoulder. "I make no promises, Rogers."

It must kill him to watch her leave with Bucky. The thought fills Toni with sick satisfaction, and she immediately hates herself for it.

"Hello, dear," she says upon entering the aircraft, running a finger along a leather seat. She built the thing, after all. And she loves everything she creates—they are all pieces of her. "They got you all fixed up, huh?" The quintet smells tangy—like pennies—and Steve's cologne (he'd deny it, but once Toni found a bottle of Axe body spray in his underwear drawer). Toni briefly wonders why he was in here, why long enough to leave his scent behind.

Toni flops into the pilot's chair. She runs her hands along the control panels lovingly—God, she's missed this. Toni loves flying. Loves being in the air—even if it is in a steel coffin.

Bucky's hovering at the back of the quinjet like a shadow. Toni swivels the seat next to her so that it's facing him.

"I like having a co-pilot," is all she says.

Bucky hesitantly lowers himself into the seat. "I'm not sure I'm ready to fly this thing."

"You don't actually have to. I just like pretending I'm Han Solo flying the Millennium Falcon, and he never flies without Chewy."

"Han Solo?"

Toni lifts a groomed brow. "You mean to tell me you never saw Star Wars—the originals, not the prequels—while you were doing time as a Soviet Slut?"

The blank expression on Bucky's face is answer enough.

"We're gonna have to amend that." Toni pulls a few switches, lifting the landing gear. "Now, let's get this thing in the air, shall we?"

Bucky almost smiles.

. . .

It takes them two hours to get to Upstate New York, and by then, Bucky is snoring like an old man. Which, Toni supposes, he is. He and Steve share that in common.

Toni lands as gracefully as possible. She doesn't want to wake the soldier up. Doesn't know when the last time he's slept was. From the purple rings around his eyes that look like bruises, it seems as though it's been a while. He shouldn't have come along. She shouldn't have let him.

Toni can't bring herself to wake him up now, so she leaves him with a semi-automatic in his lap—safety on, so he doesn't shift during sleep and accidentally shoot himself in the dick—and slips out into the night.

She breathes in through her nose. Ah, New York. Nothing quite like the distinct scent of piss and beer and hot garbage. It's no wonder the city birthed someone like her.