Chapter Text
The quinjet was falling fast, and Clint couldn’t get it to level out. Natasha had stopped responding to him, and Clint didn’t dare take his eyes from the sky to check her over. The rocket had hit on her side, and he was terrified that she’d been ripped by some shrapnel.
“Mayday, mayday!” he called into the mic. “Quinjet 1529 hit, portside engine failing.” He didn’t know if his message was getting through; the radio and receiver had been on the right as well. “Some sort of rocket hit our wing, and we’re headed for the ground, fast. Does anybody copy?”
Clint thought he heard some static in his ear, but it was gone before he could register if it made any sense.
“Last heading was-”
He broke off as Natasha moaned.
“Nat? Nat can you hear me?”
She groaned again, then coughed.
“Loud and clear, Barton. I may be losing a bit of blood though.”
When Clint couldn’t make out the sky, he could see water. It was the best he could do; his other option had been the cliff they’d been following the last three hours.
“Nat, can you reach your emergency ejection handle?”
There was a quiet scuffling noise, then-
“Yes, but it’s bent.”
Clint bit his lip on a curse.
“If anyone can hear me,” he spoke again into the mic. “We’re going down in the water off the coast of Brazil, about fifty clicks from our last check in. Black Widow has unknown injuries at this time.” He spared a thought for the gash in his own thigh that was burning pretty badly now. “Hawkeye has a long wound in his right thigh. Ejection handles jammed. Both agents going down with the ‘jet.”
He finally managed to get the quinjet on a steady trajectory, even if it was straight down. As Clint fought to keep it that way, he felt Natasha’s hand come to rest on his arm.
The water loomed ever closer.
Clint swore he heard that static as their ‘jet hit the waves.