Cornelia Street - Avengers

Civil War vol. 2

"For you, I would cross the line. I would waste my time. I would lose my mind."

Berlin, Germany

(Don't Blame Me, Taylor Swift)

...

As Lucia jogged off, she noticed that Natasha and Clint were still wrestling one another beside her on the tarmac. "We're still friends, right?" Natasha asked him, and she noticed the matching smiles on their faces like this was just friendly play.

"Depends on how hard you hit me," Clint joked back, the smile wiped off her face as he slammed her to the floor. Just as he raised his foot to kick her shoulder, her red mist suddenly wrapped around it in tendrils, and with a jerk, she sent him flying through the air.

"You're getting old Tasha," Lucia chuckled, watching as her sister sent her a glare, still finding the little moments of contentment amidst heartache. "You were pulling your punches." Lucia then charged at the person directly running to fight her, Clint, and she quickly sent a bolt of smaller energy at him as he shot an arrow back at her. After they both dodged the other's attacks, she threw a fist at him, only to be blocked.

They stared at each other as they held their fists up in defence. "Long time no see Stark," Clint smirked. "How's it feel being able to legally drink?"

"Overrated. How's Laura and the kids?" She threw a punch at him again, but he caught it in his fist, wrapping an arm around her neck, not choking her but instead trying to get her back down to the ground.

"They're good. Kids are in school," he grunted, and she fought under his grasp. She stomped her foot down onto his which caused him to let go and stumble back. She raised a fist to fire another bolt of energy before the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Her hand felt heavy, tingles running up her arm, and she suddenly had no control over it. A strange tingle crept up her arm, like static under her skin, and a tightness coiled around her neck, making it harder to breathe.

It wasn't physical—not yet—but the weight of it pressed against her chest as if an invisible tether pulled at her.

Her heart stuttered in panic. Bucky.

Whipping her head around, her breath hitched at the sight in front of her. Across the chaos, Bucky was locked in a vicious struggle with T'Challa, but it wasn't just a fight. It was raw, emotional, and visceral. She couldn't tear her eyes away from T'Challa's hand, which was clasped tightly around Bucky's throat, squeezing with rage, his claws inches away from drawing blood.

T'Challa and the soldier fought brutally, with their fight spurring from a deeper place rather than just a name on paper.

For a moment, it felt like that grip was on her too. The pressure in her throat mirrored the desperate gasp Bucky made, and the pounding of her pulse synced with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She wasn't just watching this fight—she was connected to him

"I didn't kill your father," Bucky choked out, his voice breaking as he struggled for breath. Tears welled in his eyes, a deep, agonised sorrow spilling out.

T'Challa's rage flared hotter, tightening his grip at the mention of the man whom he failed to protect. "Then why did you run?" he growled, his voice a deadly whisper. The man pried the soldier's hands off his neck, spinning him and fly-kicking him backwards.

T'Challa sprouted his claws, aiming for Bucky's neck. Ducking low Lucia took off beneath the shadow of a jetway- just in time to almost be knocked off her feet by his body being flung across her path to crash into a stack of wooden crates.