Clara Lewis: S.H.I.E.L.D agent, New Yorker, accidental time traveller- wait what?!
Clara thought being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent made her life as crazy as it would get. Ever since her accident in the field, she'd become a desk agent but working as Phil C...
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Clara's life returned to normal once the Welcome Committee was disbanded. She had gone back to working for Phil and was finally about to finish filing the pile of files that cluttered her office and haunted her dreams. It was boring times like these that she missed when Phil had taken her to identify the 084 that turned out to be a hammer that belonged to an Asgardian prince. She had even accompanied Phil to talk with Stark after the Iron Man fiasco and had somehow managed to convince Stark to cooperate as part of the avengers initiative. Her mission with Stark mainly consisted of her talking with Pepper who managed to convince Stark to cooperate. Since her incident in the field, Clara had had no desire to go back in the field, but she did miss getting all the inside gossip.
Clara had slipped into a state of imperviousness to the world around her. All she saw was the letters appearing on the screen as the hand she didn't even know she was moving typed the words sluggishly.
The shrill sound of her vibrating phone on the desk snapped her out of her trance with a start. Phil's number flashed up on her phone and she eagerly answered it. He could have a mission for her that would get her out of doing paperwork.
"Phil!" Clara sung down the phone.
"You sound like your in a good mood. Paperwork must be agreeing with you."
"You know right well that it's not. Why are you calling?"
"I have some news for you." Phil said suspiciously.
"What is it, what news?"
"I need you to do something for me. And you should feel very honoured that I have bestowed this task upon you. If I wasn't so very important, I would have gone myself."
"Yes, get to the point." Clara prompted, eager to get out of the office.
"I've texted you some coordinates, I need your powers of persuasion. Steve Rogers needs to report to helicarrier base 3. It's your job to get him there."
The coordinates Phil had sent her, lead Clara to a desolate and run down street. With each street she went down, the buildings got progressively smaller and the buildings looked more and more desolate. The street she ended up on looked like no one had been there since the 60s. The buildings were all brown where, Clara hoped, they were once white. Every window was either blacked out with dirt of shattered beyond any hope of repair. Even the air felt old. It hugged her as she passed through it. She got out of the cab and came face to face with grimy looking boxing gym. Clara felt sorry for the person she would find inside it.
Clara remembered those eyes. Those saddened, pale eyes. The ones that flickered with recognition when she had attempted to tackle him as part of the Welcome Committee. He was an enigma to her. She would have to go back in time, she thought, to figure him out.
The dinghy, fluorescent lights flickered as Clara's heels clacked against the concrete floor. She was expecting the super soldier's head to snap round as soon as she took a step but he was lost in his thoughts, punching away at a punch bag that looked like it had seen better days. Those mournful eyes were glazed over as he stared into the punching bag. Even when she was a matter of feet away from him, he never looked up. He was in a world of his own and, judging by the beating he was giving the punch bag, it was not a good world. Hit after hit after hit, Steve Roger's face became more and more contorted, strained into a face of sheer anger. The punch bag was flung back and forth, the chain that was holding it up clinked and clacked with each rage filled whack until it could take no more. With one finally smash, the punch back flew off and slammed into the floor. Clara had to restrain herself from clapping. Rogers exhaled forcefully through his nose and began unwinding his bandaged hands.
"That was quite a punch. Rough night?" Clara asked sensitively. Rogers' snapped his head up and his eyes flew wide open. "Do you have time to talk?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D sends an agent my way and all they want is a talk." He said, still unspooling his bandages.
"Who said I was here as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent? Can't a girl come to punch things?" Clara said defensively. Rogers' smiled, it was small and barely there, but a smile nonetheless.
"What is it they want?"
"Help."
"I'm done with being Captain America. It's in the past. A long way in the past."
"Have you heard of the tesseract?" Clara continued, now convinced she had his attention. Rogers nodded. "Then you know why we need your help. It was stolen by a powerful force who intents to use it for evil. You, quite possibly, know more about this than anyone and if we're in for a chance of getting it back safely, then we need your help."
Steve stopped unspooling his bandages and thought for a second before packing up his bag and walking to the door. Awkwardly, Clara followed him out.
