verb.
To fall back under pressure. To shrink back physically or emotionally.
noun.
The kickback of a gun upon firing.
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It takes a stubborn mind to cling to their humanity when the world seeks to strip it away.
It takes a desperate soul to reach f...
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Steve pushed himself to sit upright in the pilot's chair with a weary sigh, once he was confident that the coordinates were set and their altitude was comfortably below radar detection. A brief check over the cloaking systems reassured him that they were concealed from anyone that might be attempting to follow. The autopilot system could take it from here.
Now all they had to do was wait. Wait and prepare.
No one had spoken, not since they had left behind the devastation in Leipzig. He couldn't bring himself to feel that what they had done in the airport had been any sort of success - not when it left such a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't call it a victory. They had turned on their friends and left team members behind to face the consequences of their combined actions.
No, it wasn't a victory, but it had been necessary.
Glancing over to the co-pilot's chair, he laid a hand on Kat's shoulder, watching as she paused the methodical, light touches she had been placing over the console. Familiarising herself with the controls, silently questioning, exploring, learning. Desperately trying to occupy her mind. She hadn't quite been able to hide the fact that her hands were shaking slightly.
He wondered if he had placed too much on her shoulders today.
"You good?" He murmured, watching as a pair of tired, grey eyes lifted to meet his, before flicking over his shoulder to check in on the man seated silently behind them.
"I... Uh, I'm getting there." She breathed out, looking back to him as her lips pulled into a weak grimace, as if she were trying to smile but couldn't quite find the will. "You?"
Steve felt his own expression tug at her murmur of concern, granting the young woman a small nod; "Getting there." He echoed honestly, drawing his hand back before following her gaze to watch the rural landscape of Eastern Europe whip away beneath them. It would be hours before they made any considerable headway across the continent, they had time to recover. He just had to hope the increased speed of the Quinjet would be enough to catch them up to the doctor.
"What's gonna happen to your friends?" The low question came from behind him, the despondent tone of his friend encapsulating the grim outlook that their team members faced. It was enough to draw a small sigh from Steve as he shook his head at that thought. Arrest, trial, imprisonment... But it would be more complicated than that. The world was already terrified enough of Wanda, there was no telling what they'd do to restrain her. Clint wouldn't be able to make it back to his family - Scott had a kid too, and a criminal record. They wouldn't go easy on him after this.
Hell, Natasha had defected for them. She'd turned on her own team and attacked the King of Wakanda to let them escape. The UN would be out for her blood, never mind the fact that Tony would - well, he wasn't sure what Tony would do. Snap and snarl and sass like he usually did, covering up just how deeply all this had cut him.
