Work Text:
Natasha hated traveling on commercial flights, but it was sometimes the best way to travel incognito. No one expected the Black Widow, and especially not in the last row of economy class. From there, she could view everyone's comings and goings.
"Do you mind?" someone asked just when she had settled in.
Natasha put on her best smile, then did her best not to let it slip when she saw who would be sharing her row. The woman was huge. Tall and muscular judging by the way the fabric stretched across her biceps. Hell, even her forearms were muscled. Clint would be jealous.
"No, of course not," Natasha said as she stood, feeling smaller than ever next to her.
Natasha glanced at the cramped window seat, then at her own.
"But maybe you'd prefer the aisle seat? You'll have a bit more leg room."
And boy were her thighs impressive. The woman's shoulders sagged in relief, her long black braid falling out of view, and she smiled tentatively.
"I would, thank you. I had not realized these airflyers were so small."
Airflyers? Natasha's lips twitched as she moved her bag and herself to the window. She had never heard anyone call airplanes as such, and her seat-neighbor had a distinctively British accent.
"I'm Natasha," she said, offering her hand as she decided to be nosy, just in case.
"Millicent," the lady replied, carefully shaking her hand once after only a moment's hesitation, but it had been there nonetheless.
"What a lovely name," she beamed. "I don't believe I've ever heard it before. Where are you from?"
Millicent frowned a little, her grey eyes darkening.
"It's a family name. My great-great-grandmother's."
Avoiding answering where she was from? Decidedly suspicious. Natasha's spy instincts were on full alert, but Millicent had picked up the security leaflet from the pouch in front of her and was reading it diligently judging by how her eyes moved. After a while, she lifted her head and looked at her, eyes wide with fear.
"Can it really catch on fire? Or fall in the water? I was told this was the safest mode of transportation there was…" she asked, a bit too loudly judging by how the people nearby turned around to look at her.
It was evident her fear was genuine.
"It is. Really," Natasha replied with her most soothing tone of voice. "It's just in case. As a matter of fact, the odds of a plane crashing are one in ten million."
Well, if you discounted those an Avenger happened to be piloting. The odds usually dropped to one in ten in that case, especially if Clint had the commands, although he claimed he was never at fault. Still, she was quite happy to be riding in the tail of the plane, as far away from the cockpit as possible.
"One in ten million," Millicent repeated under her breath. "That sounds good."
She breathed in and out slowly, managing to calm herself in just a few minutes. Bruce could take lessons from her. Maybe she was a fitness coach, or something along those lines. Natasha was rarely so curious about a stranger and she chucked it up to boredom.
Soon, the plane was full, the captain made his announcement, and the steward explained the security protocols. Millicent struggled a bit with her seatbelt, but got it just before the plane started gathering speed.
Millicent gasped as they were gently pushed into their chairs the faster they went, then even more so as the nose of the plane began pointing up. Natasha was so used to it she could have napped during takeoff, but Millicent's hand held on the armrest with white knuckled strength. She took pity on the woman and patted her hand.
"This is normal, don't worry. We'll soon reach cruising altitude, and then you won't even feel we're in the air."
Millicent relaxed a fraction, probably more distracted by her talking than anything specific she had said. And then, as soon as it had begun, the pressure lessened and the signal they could take off their seat belts was given.
"All clear," Natasha said with a smile. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"I guess not… But… How does it land if it's going so fast?"
Natasha laughed, not at her, but genuinely amused by how she saw the world. It seemed so evident for someone who had been on planes for as long as she remembered, and even piloted them more often than not.
"It will slow down gradually as we approach the ground, but mostly it touches down and then brakes to a stop as it rolls on the landing strip."
It was actually the most difficult and dangerous part of flying since half the accidents happened during landing, not that she was going to share that tidbit of information.
"Don't worry, the captain must have done it hundreds of times before."
Millicent nodded, and Natasha had turned to look out the window when she heard the quiet thank you that followed.
Natasha startled awake, confused from the cries around her, the smoke and flickering lights. For a moment, she thought she was back in New York fighting the Chitauris, until she remembered she was just on a plane.
Oxygen must have been quite low already for her brain not to compute she was not "just on a plane", but a plane in peril. Fortunately, someone smacked the yellow mask on her face and she gulped in much needed air.
She assessed the situation quickly: something had hit the front right side of the plane where the crew was doing their best to move passengers to safer seats while blocking the holes sucking out the air and making all communication impossible. She could hardly even hear the passengers' cries anymore.
She needed to land this plane. The fact it was still steadily moving at the same altitude, speed and in the same direction seemed to indicate the plane was still fully on autopilot, so what had happened to the pilots?
Natasha unbuckled, realizing Millicent must have been the one to do it for her as well. She owed her. Natasha took off her mask then shouted at Millicent she needed to get to the cockpit, but her words were swallowed out of the cabin as soon as they were uttered. She didn't have the time to be polite about it, so she climbed over the strong woman instead, then sprinted up the aisle, over luggage that had fallen out of the overhead bins, or even people who had vacated their seats and had nowhere else to go.
Finally she was at the cockpit's door, locked of course. She pulled the steward from earlier towards it, showing off her SHIELD credentials and motioning for him to open it. Not that he or anyone else had a key, she knew, but it was the only way she had to communicate this close to the main hole in the fuselage.
The steward shook his head, grabbing the phone nearby then shaking his head. No one in the cockpit was answering then. Natasha kicked the security door in frustration, despairing that she had nothing on her that could get through it.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and Natasha looked up behind her to meet Millicent's wide eyes, full of fear, yes, but determination too. Her strong companion pointed at the door and how Natasha wished all her muscles could break through it, but it was no use. Maybe if they could find an axe?
The steward abandoned them to help his colleagues stack luggage and drink carts against the hole that actually seemed to be widening as pieces of fuselage were ripped away.
By the time Natasha looked back at the cockpit door again, it was wide open. She had no doubt her mouth had dropped to the floor in shock.
How?
She looked suspiciously at Millicent who was patting her long, thick braid, but lucky for her, Natasha had more pressing matters to attend to. She entered the cockpit, only to be met with a scene of horror and the scent of blood thick in the air.
The cockpit had not sustained the brunt of the debris that had apparently hit their plane, but it had been enough. The debris came from a satellite if she had to wager a guess at the charred wicked shafts of metal that had impaled both pilots. A one in a hundred million chances of that happening if she had to wager a guess. This was bad. Like Loki-level bad, which was saying a lot.
Natasha hurried forward and pulled the pilot's oxygen mask over her face. Poor guy never even had time to reach for it. She immediately snatched his helmet to reach the closest ATC, but with the holes in the fuselage, she knew it was no use. She then tried pulling the pilot off his seat to land the damn mammoth of a plane herself, but it was no use. He was pinned down like a butterfly in a case.
Suddenly, Millicent pulled her back, then waved her braid at the shaft of metal and it… cut in two. Natasha was torn between disbelief, amazement and pure relief. Between the two of them, and a few more magical cuts, they managed to get the pilots out of the way near the door, which Natasha belatedly noticed was closed.
She knew there had been something strange about Millicent, and she wondered if maybe she was a distant cousin of Thor's.
Natasha sat, doing her best to ignore the sticky quality of the seat and gestured at Millicent to do the same next to her. She did try raising the control tower and thought she might have heard something, but the rush of air was too loud around her. She might as well be in the middle of a tornado.
Glancing at her companion, Natasha pointed at the holes in the fuselage, much smaller than in the cabin but enough to cause the disturbance. Millicent looked towards where she was pointing, grabbed her braid and said words which were snatched away by the wind. Slowly the hole grew smaller and silence fell upon them.
"Amazing," Natasha breathed out, having quite forgotten she would be heard now, which, judging by Millicent's blush, she did.
Snapping out of her daze, Natasha finally raised the tower and explained the situation, getting coordinates where she could land safely after she assured them she was quite capable, thank you very much.
"You really know how to fly?" Millicent asked after she had switched off the autopilot and dipped a few hundred feet, unused to such a heavy aircraft.
"I'm the best," she scoffed, but it didn't hurt to be safe, so she repeatedly hit the seat belt button hoping passengers would notice the flashing light.
The air controller followed her progress, giving her information on visibility and wind strength on ground level, as well as how far out first responders were. The landing strip she had been directed to was unsurprisingly far from civilization as they did not want to risk more casualties upon landing. Natasha only hoped there were not too many passengers injured, but to be honest, she had not even noticed as she made her way to the cockpit.
"This is it," Natasha said as she began descending.
"Urgh, this is worse than going up," Millicent muttered.
"It's because you're in the front row this time," Natasha teased. "More leg room though."
A reluctant chuckle escaped Millicent, but then Natasha would have sworn she could hear her grinding her teeth. The landing was rougher than she would have liked, but the landing strip appeared to have been abandoned for some time now, an old military base by the looks of it.
She let go of the commands, her fingers feeling stiff from having gripped them so hard.
"Well done," the ATC congratulated her, sounding far too surprised for her taste.
She wished this was the end of their misadventure, but there was still the whole crew and passengers to take care of.
"First responders are still fifteen minutes out. Please evacuate in an orderly fashion and set up some kind of triage for the injured so the most severe cases can be treated first."
She closed her eyes and sat back. She would give herself a minute. Just a minute to calm her beating heart. A warm hand patting her own did far more, taking her mind off the madness of what had just happened.
"Thank you," she said to Millicent. "You're a good person to have in a crisis."
The other woman gave her a crooked smile, pink coloring her cheeks once more. Was she not used to receiving praise? Someone as extraordinary as she was?
"So you have magic hair?" she asked next when her gaze landed on the pretty braid Millicent was fiddling with.
Her gray eyes widened, looking like a wild animal caught in a trap.
"It's fine, don't worry. It's kind of neat actually." Natasha soothed her, but Millicent still looked frightened. "I won't tell if you'd rather not?"
"No," Millicent breathed out, as if fearing someone would hear. "Please."
Maybe she really was a cousin of Thor's who had sneaked out of Asgard to visit Midgard like the mighty and magical tourist she seemed to be. Natasha would demand and nag Thor for her to join the Avengers though. It was unfair she was the only woman on the team.
"You might want to put the hole back there in that case," Natasha said, indicating the part of the fuselage that was slightly different from the rest. "Or it's going to be difficult explaining why we have two dead pilots."
Millicent nodded, pointed her braid at it, then whispered something, and what she had made was unmade.
"What about…" Millicent began with a backwards glance at the dead pilots and the cut metal spikes.
Natasha grimaced, not wanting to disturb them more than necessary.
"I'll explain that away. Do you want to mix in with the crowd before authorities get here?"
Millicent nodded and they left the cockpit to slide down the emergency chute that had been set out, everyone having left already. In fact no one noticed them and since everything seemed to be taken care of by the capable crew, they sat next to one another at the edge of the gathered crowd as if they were just two random passengers. The cabin crew had been smart to settle some distance away from the plane, although Natasha doubted there was any risk of explosion.
She laid her head against Millicent's muscled arm, the best pillow for miles around.
"Do you know Thor?" Natasha asked, curiosity eating at her.
"The God of Thunder?"
"Yeah, I work with him sometimes. You remind me a bit of him."
"Of the God of Thunder?"
Natasha chuckled at the disbelief coating her voice.
"I'll introduce you to him, you two will get along like a house on fire."
"To the God of Thunder?"
Natasha laughed again, then slipped her arm around Millicent's impressive biceps. She wasn't letting go of her any time soon.