In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

26

Stationed miles apart, each Avenger ushered people on a path out to a bridge at the edge of the city, where I was throwing open multiple massive portals to transport the civilians somewhere safe.

Steve directed cars and people to the bridge, where I stood on a bench, directing from the center.

A jolt on the bench caused the portal to close on accident.

My attention shifted to grabbing the ledge behind me for balance. I leaned my body to the side, thinking my moment of panic was due to my weight crushing the old park bench. My assumption was wrong.

Another jolt occured, continuous, the second time around. A crack was spreading under the bench, tearing the bridge in half.

"Move!" I shouted, "Move! The bridge is about to split!"

As if by the snap of a finger, the bridge cracked in half, the jaggedly split right side falling miles into the river below.

For mere seconds, the bench stayed straight, allowing me to leap from it before the falling cement dragged the bench down with it.
The cement bridge was feet tall. My fingers latched on to a ledge near the middle. My arm wasn't long enough to reach the top.

"Steve!" I yelled, "I could use a hand!"

His hand wrapped around my wrist. In a swift movement, he yanked me from the split bridge, straight into his arms.

"I'm not losing anyone else like that," he mumbled under his breath.

Breathlessly, I said, "What was that?"

"Nothing," said Steve, "Stark, can we get a visual?"

"Circle," said Tony through the earpiece. He flew above the city. "Sokovia's breaking apart in the shape of a circle."

"Did the team make it within the circle?" I asked.

"Uh, yes," said Tony, after a moment, "I'm not sure you should be happy about that."

"Our priority is the civilians. I'm not leaving until the circle is clear," I said.

Followed by a grunt, Barton called, "Incoming!"

"Incoming what?" asked Steve.

"Incoming robots, what else?" said Barton sarcastically.

I wiggled my hand from Steve's, running down the bridge. In the middle of the intersection, I threw open a portal to France, ushering the remaining civilians into it.

"Barton's right!" called Steve, his voice far from me.

Ignoring Barton's gleeful, "When am I ever wrong?" I turned my head to find Steve, only to have my jaw drop.

The continuous shaking under my feet wasn't Sokovia still splitting, as I'd presumed. Sokovia, or, rather, the chunk ripped out, was being levitated into the air.

A child and his mother ran though my portal, the last civilians.

Steve joined me in the middle of the intersection.

Taking the words from his mouth, I asked, "You gonna be okay?"

Steve paused, his face going from surprise and back to determination after the initial surprise.

"It's predictable, coming from such a worried Boy Scout like yourself," I teased.

Steve rolled his eyes. Unhooking his shield from the magnets on his back, he held it steady in front of his chest.

"Just stay alive, Clara," he pleaded.

"As long as you do the same."