Chapter Text
No matter how early of a warning he had to attempt to brace himself, nothing could’ve prepared Bob for the feeling of being ejected from his plane.
It all happened so suddenly. So sudden he could barely recall what was the last thing he said before the canopy opened and then the only noise that filled his head was the whistle of rushing air. He couldn’t think, barely even breathe with how tightly the harness strangled his body.
Somehow he landed unscathed. But the world spun as he attempted to gain his footing and work against the force of his still open parachute blowing in the wind. With shaky hands he released himself from his harness, finally feeling like he could take in a breath.
But then it hit him. His hands couldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t stop thinking about Phoenix. Her voice, usually confident, still confident, but laced with a fear he had never known she could posses as she yelled, “Eject! Eject!”
There was the sound of an explosion and Bob could feel the ground shake beneath him. He flinched, his heart dropping into his gut, a newfound panic he had never felt before suddenly realized. He didn’t see her eject. There’s no parachutes in the air. What if… what if…
Bob had only known Phoenix little more than a week, if even that, yet the woman had somehow become the center of his universe. Of course Bob wouldn’t admit it, and he forced himself not to think about it, but the plain truth of the matter was that Bob was helplessly falling for his pilot, since the moment she first handed him that pool cue.
Thus, this feeling of both terror and heartbreak resulted in a pain that stilled his soul, and apparently paralyzed his body, because he couldn’t move.
Then out of nowhere, the breath is knocked out of him again. He doesn’t even have time to process the voice calling out his name until, there she is, in his arms, holding onto him with pure desperation.
Phoenix.
“Bob!” She’s clinging to him, her head buried within his chest, her helmet most definitely leaving a mark on his collar bone, but he couldn’t care less.
“Nix,” he breathes out, softer than a whisper, wrapping his arms around her, now that the shock of her being alive has finally worn off.
She takes a step back, and he barely lets her, still keeping his hands on her arms, still needing to keep contact, even if its through her flight suit, just to know that she’s alive.
“Are you okay?” She asks, her eyes flitting over his body, her hands following, tracing his outline, trying to find something wrong. She reaches out to take off his helmet and he lets her. On her tip toes, she runs her hands through his hair, over his skull, trying to find a cut, a bump, something that could indicate he isn’t alright.
“Phoenix…”
She doesn’t hear him but continues her search.
“Nix…”
Her eyes are still frantic.
“Natasha.”
Her eyes are on him. Beautiful brown eyes, clouded with emotions he can’t decipher, yet one stands out. That same terror he felt mere seconds ago.
“I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” he confirms, taking her hands into his. They’re shaking. And only now does he realizes his aren’t. They’re still, calm.
“I’m okay,” Bob repeats, hoping it comforts her. Hoping it cures that terror still present in her eyes.
She nods, but doesn’t seem to relax.
Her leg buckles, and she practically falls into him. Like a reflex, he catches her, supporting all her weight.
“Nat?! What’s wrong?” He asks, alarmed, not even noticing the use of a nickname she didn’t give him permission to use.
Phoenix hisses at the pain. Looking down at her leg, Bob notes how her pant-leg is soaked through with red.
As if sensing his panic, Phoenix explains, “It’s just a cut.”
Bob shakes his head, unable to tame his worry, “This isn’t just a cut. You’re bleeding!”
“Leg caught on something during the ejection. A piece of metal I think,” She closes her eyes tightly as Bob leans down, trying to get a better look. The fabric is clinging onto her skin.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers and rolls up the cuff, he winces when she tenses, and muffles a cry into his shoulder. He reveals a long gash along her calf. It’s deep, not horribly, but enough that it’s bleeding profusely.
Completely helpless, and unable to do anything but stare at the wound, Bob lets go of the fabric, letting the cuff fall back into place.
The sound of helicopter blades nearing closer and closer distracts him, causing Bob to look up.
Somewhere between the EVAC team pulling them into the chopper, and the medics speaking amongst themselves, Bob swears he hears Phoenix whisper, “All that matters is you’re okay. You’re okay.” But maybe it was just the wind.
All he knows is she doesn’t let go of his hand until they’re pulled into separate examination rooms. His hand had never felt so empty until then.