𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗.
Charlie Stark-Rogers has grown up in the shadow of the world's greatest heroes. But spending your entire life in the face of danger takes its toll on anyone. She has secrets, thi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 what happened next, but the parts she did remember would haunt her for the rest of her life.
She felt hands lift the dead weight off of her body as she stared into the unseeing eyes of the man who had just saved her life.
Her thin sweatshirt was covered in blood, turned from teal to crimson in a matter of minutes. Her hands shook at her sides, her mouth parted slightly as her chest tried to suck air into lungs that wouldn't cooperate.
Voices swam around her, but her mind had floated away. She watched through a foggy lens as Clint hovered over her, tears staining his cheeks and his eyes red. He cupped her face in his cheeks, giving them a harsh tap, waiting for her to respond.
She couldn't.
Clint understood. Instead, he gently brushed her hair out of her eyes and shouted to someone farther away.
Charlie stared at the setting sun above, orange dancing over the top of the helicarriers. Distantly, she realized she needed to move- they needed to get off this floating country and back to safety.
To New York, or-
No, not New York. Charlie wanted to go home, back to her bedroom in Malibu, where it was just her and her dads. Where no one could hurt them; where she could finally rest.
She was so tired.
Suddenly Charlie was being lifted by strong, familiar arms. The fingers beneath her knees and across her back were impossibly gentle and warm, cradling her softly to a broad chest.
Charlie vaguely registered the bright blue eyes and grime-streaked face of her Pops, his shield slung over his back as he looked down at her. A deep, indescribable kind of sorrow was etched into his features.
She could hear Steve whispering brokenly in her ear and he sat down on the helicarrier, keeping her in his arms. Her body still refusing to move on its own, her brain moving slowly from shock, she ended up sitting on his lap, curled up against his chest like a small child. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, doll."
Clint sat down across from them, horror in his eyes and a haunted, hollow look on his face as he looked down at the body of Pietro Maximoff. Pietro lay at his feet, eyes still wide open, but he wasn't breathing, or smiling, or laughing anymore. He was just... gone. Just like that.
Steve's hand was running over her hair, but she still stared into nothingness, the numb feeling spread across her whole body. She barely registered the stinging pain on her side before Steve accidentally brushed his hand against it.
