In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

19

In the depths of a person's mind exists a numerous amount of almost forgotten memories. Some who are aware of this fact tend to distract themselves from remembering those thoughts. Some don't know those thoughts are able to return.

Either situation, whether one is avoiding those thoughts or not, they are accessible. A trigger can make them whole again.

The Maximoff girl was able to access the memory by simple noises. She found the trigger, she yanked it, succeeding in reminding me of my own nightmare.

Still, my shakes weren't as bad as the others. Steve hadn't moved his eyes from the ground since he sat; Natasha sat with her head in her hands; Thor stood, jaw clenched.

Bruce was by far the worst. The witch had forced him to destroy the nearest city. His arrest was being discussed. He sat on the floor, wrapped in a purple blanket, eyes slammed shut. By the slight flinching every couple minutes, I assumed he was reliving his experience.

Everyone was, I suppose.

Maria Hill told us it was a great idea to stay out of the public eye for as long as we could, since at the time, we were hated.

Barton piloted for hours, bringing us to somewhere that no one knew existed: a farm in the middle of nowhere; his farm.

In a line, the team followed Barton through the path to his home.

The house was a simple double floor, large, with a barn to the left. The entire farm had a homey feeling to it. It brought peace to our tense team mates.

To help with that, I nudged Steve and quietly sung, "Old man Barton had a farm.. Ei-ei-ay-oh.."

When I looked up at him, he was trying to smile at me, which was the best I could get at the time.

"Honey!" called Barton, pushing open the front door, "I'm home!"

He led the team through the house and into the living room. Just as the last person, Bruce, shuffled in, a pregnant woman stepped around the corner. Her unsure eyes met Barton's. A grin spread across her face.

The two met in the middle, sharing a kiss.

"Sorry I didn't call ahead," he joked when they broke away.

Tony watched the interaction skeptically. "This is an agent of some kind," he mused.

Barton slipped his arm around her waist, his free hand extended to the team. "Guys, this is Laura."

"I know all of your names," she said.
Her eyes scanned the men, until she landed on me and her warm smile faltered.

"Clara Blake," I introduced, taking a step forward to shake her hand, "I'm awfully sorry to barge in on you."

Laura's predictable assurance was cut off, by a rumbling coming from the stairs. Two children skidded into the kitchen, their eyes wide with excitement when they saw their father.

Steve's face tilted, his brow scrunched, mouth opened. After a quick nudge from me, he closed his mouth and nodded a single time, accepting the news.

"These are smaller agents," mumbled Tony, eyes squinted suspiciously.

Barton's daughter leaned away from her father, her big eyes filled with hope as she asked, "Did you bring Auntie Nat?"

Natasha peaked out from behind Thor's giant frame. She crept past the team. For once, a genuine smile was on her lips.

"Why don't you hug her and find out?" asked Natasha, scooping up the girl from the ground and squeezing her lovingly.

"Once again," said Steve, directed at Laura, "We're sorry to intrude."