A Place In This World (Beginnings and Goodbyes, #1) {Completed}

sun's gone

At first, I don't know what to do. It's pandemonium as people scream and run, dragging away the ones who are as shell-shocked as I am. Some slam into me as they pass to reach the main road, and it sends a shock through my system, a memory resurfacing of fists bludgeoning me in the pitch dark. Twelve years old, tasked with defending myself on instinct alone.

Fury had a way of sneaking into our house late at night, to keep my training interesting. I just think he enjoyed freaking me out and trying to get me to hate him. But I knew he wanted me prepared for any kind of situation, and for that, I could never resent him. Although, I did come close a couple of times. One night, he had managed to carry me from the house and out into the woods, a blindfold over my eyes upon waking when I sensed I was no longer in my bed.

"Keep it on," he said, his voice to my right, and my hand drifted back to my side. I was barefoot, in one of my mom's old t-shirts and my fuzzy pajama pants that I feared I'd destroy by the end of this, which was horrible because they were my favorite. The ground beneath a heavy boot crunched and hissed at Fury's approach. I resisted the chill that pricked at me, attempting to coax a shiver out of me, but I centered myself, listening to every swish of fabric, ripple of leather, every exhale of breath.

"You've been blinded, with one exit to safety. There are three assailants zoning in on your location, and your objective is to incapacitate them and escape. Romanoff tells me your combat skills have improved so consider this a test. You fail, and you go back to the basics. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." I swallowed any question or concern I had because it wouldn't have served any purpose. He expected me to follow through, to focus and commit to the exercise. I suffered a cut lip and a few bruises down my back and arms, my face besides my lip left untouched. But I had dislocated my father's shoulder by accident.

I return to the present to fire raining down around me, the stone archway I have stopped beneath the only cover I have. I succeeded in that exercise only when I cut out all other distractions, from the breeze rattling the leaves above to the sweat of fear and exertion dripping off of my skin. I recognized Natasha's footfalls before she had reached to grab me from behind; I had known my father's breath, the inhale, before he landed a soft punch to my shoulder, causing me to stumble. I had taken a deep breath, felt the push of air from the both of them as they fought in tandem to take me down. It became a dance after that, where each step of theirs was met by one of mine, until I had memorized the clearing I was cornered in, until I had a mental map of where they were, where every root and rock was known by the touch of my foot.

The matter of focus, of stretching my awareness outwards still applies here. I snap into action, stepping from the cover of the archway, even as I feel hands grab for me, but I dash forward, bow at the ready as the flying robots overhead spot me, no longer taking notice of the civilians they've been attacking. I motion for them all to run behind me.

"Get to the bridge," I yell to them. "Go, hurry. There's not much time!"

I send an arrow through a bot's eye, another through the center of another one's chest, both colliding and exploding as they fall from the sky. The last one lands, the clap of metal against stone resonating through my ears, and it stalks towards me, its eyes blazing red and sinister. It raises its hand, a blaster heating up in the middle of its palm, but a zig zag of blue streaks past, the robot dismantled in a matter of seconds, its head rolling to my feet. I turn to look behind me, and my shoulders are caught up in Pietro's hands, his electric eyes searching my face.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with the captain," he says.

"Pietro!" I shrug off his hands. "It's okay. Cap wanted me to help civilians to get to the bridge."

"That's my job," he says.
"Well, sorry for stepping on your toes. I'll just continue on by myself," I say, mocking a salute and stepping around him.

"No," he says and grabs my wrist.

I look up at him, shock widening my eyes. "It's fine, really. I can manage."

"It isn't. You are just a kid running around these streets without a clue where it is she's going. I can't allow that. We continue together."

I pull my wrist from his grasp, his fingers trailing across my skin, my heartbeat skittering. "We don't have time for this."

"Cara," Pietro calls after me. I stop and look at him over my shoulder. "It's okay. I'll get you to him."

For a moment, I think he's referring to Steve, but his eyes swim with understanding, with a gentleness I never thought he'd be capable of, not when he's been a sarcastic, charming asshole. He walks up to me, his knuckles brushing at a smudge on my cheek, and I blink, a sudden tightness in my throat.

"Thanks," I say, my voice hoarse.

I'm graced with a rare smile, one that is full of warmth and sincerity, nothing like the cavalier grin I've seen too many times from him. We share a moment's quiet, our eyes captured in each other.

He ruins it, cuts it short by ruffling my hair, pulling some strands free from my braid. "Keep up, brat. I won't be carrying you the whole way."

"Pietro," I exclaim, quickly fixing my hair. "Asshole."

This earns me a chuckle from him, but he's already walking away, and I jog to catch up to him.