Third in the Timeline series |
After being told she was the infamous Agent 4, that every S.H.I.E.L.D agent thought was a rumour, Clara decides to get back in the field. Her old boss, and presumed dead, Phil Coulson guides her as she reunites with ol...
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They weren't safe for long. It didn't take long at all for the German police force to start shooting at them. Steve grabbed Clara around the waist, holding the shield to protect her.
"What the fuck were you thinking coming up here?" He shouted, kicking an officer in the chest, they tumbled out the window.
"Steve!" Clara protested, "Language."
"Oh not you too."
Clara had taken out the police force outside the door but enough time had passed for them to have sent up their back up squad. They'd gotten past the door and were flooding the apartment. Bucky advanced towards them, holding his metal hand up to deflect the bullets firing towards him.
"Clara!" Steve yelled at her and in the split second Clara looked away, Bucky had gone. "Get out" She didn't need to be told twice. Clara bolted for the door. A path had been cleared when Bucky came through. All Clara had to do was follow it. She lingered in the doorway, Steve's voice echoing through to her- "get out."
Clara took the stairs two at a time, flying up the stairs and barrelling out of the emergence exit and onto the roof.
"Sam! Catch!"
"Catch what?" He yelled back.
"Me!"
"Oh for God's sake woman!" Sam shouted as he dove to reach Clara.
"Thank you." Clara thanked, her voice sing-songy to earn her some forgiveness. Sam just mumbled jibes at her.
"Heather, you copy?" Clara asked and was met with a deafening series of static from Heather's earpiece.
"Oh, er, yes. I copy." Was her eventual response.
"I need you to get the jet up in the air."
"You what?!" Heather snapped.
"I need a lift. Get ready to catch. There's a button on the dash, by the joystick. Press it, it opens the doors."
"Oh god..." Heather whined.
Somehow, even with Clara's poor guidance, Heather managed to shakily lift the quinjet off the ground.
"You can drop me off here, Sam." Clara jested.
"Suit yourself." Sam mumbled as he dropped her over the open doors of the quinjet. She fell at a faster pace than she would have liked. Ideally, Heather would have flown the jet a little higher. Clara fell through the doors of the jet and landed awkwardly on her side. She swore she heard something snap.
"Clara, you have to get over here and take over from me. This is really hard!" Heather complained, her voice dripping with panic. Clara stumbled to her feet and hobbled over to the controls, nursing a probably dislocated shoulder. But she could fly with one hand...right?
"What the hell is that?!" Heather added. Clara looked to where she was pointing. The was Bucky, he was sprinting across the roof of the adjacent building, pursued by someone in a catsuit. Surprisingly, not the weirdest thing Clara had ever seen.
"Clara, we've got company." Sam announced over the earpieces.
"I've got the chopper, you have to deal with catwoman." Clara ordered. She worked better from a distance and wasn't prepared to find out why this guy likes cats so much.
Clara aimed the quinjets weapons system at the helicopter's blades and didn't hesitate once in pulling the trigger. But nothing happened.
"Heather. I left you alone for twenty minutes." Clara quipped and unfastened herself from the chair and opened the doors.
"Where are you going? What are you doing? What's happening?!" Heather rambled.
"Woah, calm. It's all going fine." Clara reassured, her voice getting higher and higher with every syllable.
"I know that voice, you're bluffing. I'm just choosing to believe you."
Clara rolled her eyes at her friend as she walked along the quinjet to the open door. She raised her pistol at the helicopter that was getting closer and closer by the second.
"Um, Clara...you'd better get back here quickly because I can't fly this and we're about to crash into the side of a building."
"Not yet." Clara murmured, closing one eye, waiting for the perfect shot. She was so close to the helicopter now that she could reach across and punch them- if she'd wanted. "Now." she said to herself as she pulled the trigger.
The blades clunked and groaned as they stopped spinning and the helicopter began to fall. Clara raced back to the controls and pulled the jet up, the wing scraping against the concrete of the building's walls.
She looked across her shoulder as she steered the jet back up to the same level as the roof. Bucky looked back up at her and for a moment, no one else mattered.
Suddenly a wave of doubt flooded over Clara. Who was she kidding? She wasn't fit to be back in the field. Six years of attending grief support groups had helped her drag herself out of bed every morning but it hadn't prepared her for how normal Bucky looked.
He looked just like any other man living alone in a cheap apartment. He had done fine without her. Clara had been completely erased from his life and he was okay.
