The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 49

Over Eastern Europe

Spring 2016

With Bucky's help, not long after Steve had engaged the Quinjet's stealth mode and he was sure they weren't being followed, Steve had finally been able to program a more precise destination into the navigation system. Meaning all he had left to do was stay the course it set.

Unfortunately, that also meant he suddenly had far less to occupy his thoughts.

Thoughts that were far too conflicted for comfort. But then—to quote Lang—what else was new.

They had made it past Tony and his team and were well on their way to Siberia.

Yet it felt a small victory. A hollow victory.

And it was why the Quinjet felt so quiet.

Neither he, Bucky nor Nadine felt anything but the weight of what they'd flown away from in Leipzig. Both because of everything that had happened, and because of who they'd left behind.

Sam. Clint. Both the Twins. Scott. More than half their Team.

Left behind, no doubt to be imprisoned for standing with Steve. For defying the Accords.

Steve's gut churned with guilt.

Even the small victory that had been Nina and Natasha's defections to their side couldn't quite off-set just how badly things had gone. Steve didn't even know how each lost member of his Team was.

As the Quinjet had drawn free from the hangar, the fate of the Twins had been as clear as their prone forms where they'd lain barely a few metres apart on the tarmac, as was what had happened. Steve had made it to the cockpit just in time to see Rhodes disengaging his sonic canon as Pietro collapsed, falling back onto the pavement not far away from where Wanda had slumped, both likely unconscious. And judging by what little he could read from Nadine's drawn, pale face? If he was to guess, Steve would hazard Rhodes was responsible for the way Wanda had lost hold on the collapsing tower, likely hitting her with the sonic canon, which then explained why Pietro had been so desperate to get to her, to try and help her even at the risk of getting caught himself.

Lang had—presumably—shrunk back down to his natural height, hopefully without any adverse effects like he'd described immediately before going large.

Clint, Steve honestly had little idea, though from what snippet of conversation he'd caught through the earpieces as he and Bucky had been running for the Quinjet, he suspected Clint had tried to hold off T'Challa.

Obviously, he'd had limited success.

Sam, he knew, had been trailing the Quinjet for a short time, doing what he could to break Tony and Rhodes from their pursuit. But Steve wasn't entirely sure what had happened there, either, even free as he'd been to look behind them thanks to Nadine's place in the pilot's seat. All three had broken off at once almost immediately after Vision had shot a burst of energy toward them and the Quinjet from the Mind Stone.

To Steve's mind, that did not bode well in the slightest.

Not when he was fairly certain he'd seen one form plummeting from the sky before the hull of the Quinjet had hidden the three pursuers from view.

Then there was Natasha. If the way she'd turned on T'Challa hadn't been indication enough?

As they'd left the Leipzig Airport behind, Nadine had finally felt confident enough that it was safe to engage the Quinjet's stealth mode and let Steve take over the pilot's seat. Safe enough that Steve had taken a moment to edge closer, to squeeze her arm gently in a silent gesture of solidarity—and affection, he could readily admit—and ask if she'd had any trouble accessing the Quinjet.