The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 55

Over Siberia

Spring 2016

While truthfully Nadine had little doubt in T'Challa's sincerity—it had been far too plain to see to even try and discount—she knew full well that she wasn't going to be able to relax in the slightest until the Quinjet was once more in the air and racing away from the god-forsaken HYDRA base in the middle of the Siberian wilderness.

And even then...

She was far too unsettled in that moment. Too worried. Too on edge.

Steve and Barnes both looked awful. Barnes especially.

While she'd noticed Steve first—the blood trickling down the right side of his jaw from beneath his helmet and from the corner of his mouth and the nasty scrape on his left cheek were rather hard to miss—thanks to the way he'd been crouched right next to her as she'd revived, there had been no missing Barnes either, even with Steve positioned between them.

God, she'd felt sick as she'd looked over to the former HYDRA assassin. Barnes was easily the worse off of the pair of them. He looked like he'd been kicked in the face, with cuts and abrasions littering his features while blood painted the lower half of his face, originating from both his nose and a deep gash over his left cheekbone. It had physically ached seeing just how...beaten he looked. He looked like he was barely conscious, his vibrant eyes dulled—though encouragingly aware and focused as he looked almost as anxiously to her as Steve was—and his body sagging and hitching with pain when he moved. It was bad enough that, without Steve's support, she very much doubted he'd be in any shape to walk on his own.

And that wasn't even mentioning the ragged stump of what used to be his cybernetic arm.

It looked like it had been blasted clean off.

He was very clearly in shock.

And Steve didn't look far behind.

They looked like they'd been through hell, and not just because they were both covered in blood.

But as they'd stepped outside, the icy air had seemed to revive them both, if only slightly. As had T'Challa's appearance.

That had been a surprise. An admittedly welcome one. A very welcome one. So much had been going wrong the last few days that she very nearly gaped in surprise when the Wakandan king had started apologising. She still felt a little bewildered over that particular turn of events.

But she wasn't going to question it. She could consider and dissect to her heart's content later.

For now, the priority was getting on the Quinjet and getting far, far away. They needed to get somewhere safe. While she didn't doubt T'Challa's word that he'd let them go, hopefully giving them some time to disappear in the process while he handled the JCTTF, she didn't have a whole lot of confidence that Ross would let them go. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if he just brushed off any interest in Zemo in favour of pouring resources into going after her, Steve and Barnes.

So they needed to disappear.

But first, they needed to get somewhere secure and tend to their wounds. While Steve wasn't in great shape and Barnes was undoubtedly worse off still, Nadine wasn't in top form, herself. Her ribs still ached from Leipzig and now her head was pounding as well, both thanks to T'Challa, really. If she was being truly honest, her whole body ached a just then from a combination of exhaustion, trauma and sheer emotional strain. Not that she was about to admit it. Not with her two companions in the shape they were in.

So she pushed it all aside—the pain wracking her body and the goose egg forming on the side of her head, the uneasy thrum in the back of her mind from her memories of Seoul trying to surface and toy with her, her worry for Steve and Barnes. With a final wary look to T'Challa as the three of them passed him, she headed directly for the panel next to the boarding ramp, intent on entering in the code to lower it.