In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

44

Away from the blast zone, I opened a portal to the opposite side of the building. Natasha and I ushered the injured people through first.

I searched the charred room for stragglers. What I found were dead bodies. Twelve. Twelve I was too slow to save. And the worst death of all, I saw with my own eyes.

T'Challa, his back towards us, rocked a body back and forth on the floor. His father.

Natasha grabbed my arm roughly. "You've done enough," she said.

Having to walk away from them tore my heart in half. Clutching my chest, I limped through a portal to Steve's location. I closed the portal as soon as my bare feet hit the tile of the hotel room. I didn't meet their eyes, though I knew they were staring. Steve engulfed me in a hug. I didn't have the energy to wrap my arms around him.

It tore my stomach in half having to walk away.

I didn't wait any longer. I limped through a portal, into the location Steve said he and Sam were at. I closed the portal as soon as my bare feet hit the tile of the hotel room. I didn't meet their eyes, though I knew they were looking at me. Steve rushed to me.

"Get her on the couch," said Sharon. She disappeared into the bathroom.

Of my own accord, I waddled to the couch and collapsed. I stared at the television.

"...more than seventy people are injured. At least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King, T'Chaka," reported the woman.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears still managed to fall.

Damp, warm towels brushed against my skin. I opened my teary eyes. Steve and Sam each held towels in their hands, dabbing away the ash and blood from the parts of my body not covered by my dress.

I took a deep breath.

Steve shook his head at me. "Don't say it," he pleaded.

"How can I not?" I whispered. "I vowed to use my abilities to save people. And how many times have I been too slow to do it? Twelve people. Twelve. Including the King of Wakanda. And it's because I wasn't fast enough to save them."

"Clara, it's not your fault," promised Steve.

My hard, angry eyes met his. "Then whose is it?" I challenged.

Steve looked away.

I turned back to the television, where the answer to my question came at a rather imperfect time.

"...suspect in the bombing, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier..."

Utter silence flowed through the room. I briefly saw Sam's mouth open and close a few times, attempting to speak. In the end, he stayed quiet. After all, what was there to say? Sam and I hadn't put bombing Vienna past Barnes, despite Steve's beliefs that Bucky was back in control. If I had thought rationally, I suppose I would have known then what I know now. But I had been drowning in grief from the lives I failed to save, and the only person I blamed was Barnes.

"Well," I said flatly. "He won't be in hiding for much longer. They'll have seven million people looking for him."

"We have to find him first," said Steve. Awkwardly, he added, "Clara, you... You don't have to help."

He was right to tell me so. Trusting me to save him, in that specific time, wasn't something Steve thought I would do. I was rightfully hurting. That anger was pointed at the single suspect I was given, who also happened to be the one person we needed to save. Although my judgement over the bombing was askew, it wasn't entirely gone. I had a duty to the people of the world to restrain threats. Helping Barnes meant saving civilians from harm. It needed to be executed as soon as possible, and done by a group of people less likely to die trying.

"Clara?" asked Sam.

I raised my brow as I exhaled, filtering out any emotions from the mission at hand. Dealing with my grief and frustration needed to be put on pause.

"I'd rather help find him than leave him to harm more people," I said.

"I have to check in with Natasha first," said Steve.

"Where does that take us?" asked Sam.

"You two wait at the bar down the street. Dress conspicuously. Eat up. You might want a full stomach before we start," he warned.

With time, Sam and I were sitting at a bar, three seats from one another. Baseball caps and sunglasses covered our faces. I drowned three shots as soon as I arrived. Sam watched me through the reflection in the shot glasses.

"Rough day?" asked the bartender.

"Just drinking away my sorrows," I said.

"Holler if you'd like more," said the bartender, then moved down the line to take orders.

"It isn't your fault," said Sam.

"Do you believe he did it?"

He paused. "I wouldn't put it past him."

"You know, for a second, I thought Bucky might have actually come back. He did save Steve from the Potomac. He has stayed entirely low profile for the past two years. Why come out now, out of all times? Why bomb Vienna?" I asked. I shook my head. "Why do I feel like I'm the one who set off the bomb?"

"It's like you said, Smiles. We try to save everyone we can. And the ones we don't, stick with us forever. But we continue for them. To avenge them."

I heard Sam. I didn't bother comprehending. "If I was just faster," I sighed.

"If we find him..." he trailed off.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," I admitted.

Steve, matching our disguises in his own sunglasses and hat, joined us at the bar stool. He stood between Sam and I.

Sam stabbed his fork into his food. "She tell you to stay out of it?"

"Yes."

"Might have a point."

"He'd do it for me."

I glanced at him. "In 1945, maybe."

"I just want to make sure we consider all of our options," cut in Sam, silencing me. "The people that shoot at you, usually wind up shooting at us."

A blonde woman with a file folder in her hand approached the seat beside me. Sharon.

"Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it's noise. Except for this," she paused to slide a folder to me. "My boss expects a briefing now. That's all the story you're going to get."

"Thank you," said Steve.

She walked behind the stools to reach the exit. By Steve, she slowed her pace.

"You're going to have to hurry," she warned. "We have orders to shoot on sight."