In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

17

My own personal alarm clock shook me awake the next morning. Steve Rogers was lightly tapping my arm, his face scrunched with a grimace.

"Good morning, Clara. Hi. I'm really sorry to wake you up, but Maria has news she wants us to rendezvous about. I didn't want to leave out a teammate," he whispered.

I stretched. My hands patted along the awfully flat pillows. "Who's bed am I in?" I yawned.

"Uh, that would be my own," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, you fell asleep with Helen, so I brought you here and--"

"It's fine, it's fine. I don't mind," I assured.

"Should we get going?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Walk with you might not happen, since I'm a little afraid to walk. I'd need you to spot me, unfortunately. If that's too much, I can just portal--"

"No," disagreed Steve, "No, allow me."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Steve helped me to stand on my right foot first. One hand on my back and the other grasping my own, Steve told me to take a step. I took the first hobble forward, and we were off, Steve leading the way to the rendezvous point.

"For the record, I'm sorry I walked off without coming back to you last night," apologized Steve.

"Oh, you were fine," I insisted, "Barton and Helen kept me company."

"There are the lovebirds," sang Tony as Steve helped me take the last few steps up the stairs.

"Enough, Stark," said Steve bluntly, clearly not in the mood.

"How are you feeling, Smiles?" asked Barton.

"Just fine, thank you," I muttered, "Maria, the floor is yours."

She took no longer to explain. In her hands, she held a tablet with a picture of a deceased man on the screen. "Ultron killed Strucker," she announced.

"And he did a Banksy at the crime scene," joked Tony once he caught sight of the picture.

"But why send a message when you've just given a speech?" asked Natasha.

"Maybe Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss?" suggested Steve.

Natasha tilted her head, taking a seat the computer desk. She started to type S-T-R, but stopped, the bold words, NO RESULTS giving her the answer she needed.

"Yeah, everything we've had on Strucker has been erased," she told the rest of the group.

"Not everything," disagreed Steve.

I followed his eye to the dozens of boxes filled with files.

"Great. Just what I wanted to do on a Saturday: read," grumbled Tony.

"And whose fault is that?" shot Bruce.

"Okay, okay. Everyone pick a box. If there's anything about Strucker, shout out," suggested Steve.

"Or HYDRA," I added.

I hopped to the middle table, stealing a seat from Steve. I grinned up at him from a lower position, content in my seat. He shook his head. He handed me a box, took one for himself, then pulled a chair across from me.

Within the first ten minutes of thoroughly reading files, Tony narrowed the search down to people Strucker had been involved with, which was information that would be clearly written on the first page in the spot that classified on allies. The search wasn't as broad, however, it still left many hours of reading ahead of us.