Mirror, Mirror ↠ Steve Rogers

Chapter Three

It doesn't take long to get to Stuttgart, and the flight is spent mostly in silence, the hum of the engines serving as white noise. Steve toys with the idea of striking up a conversation, but decides against it. This decision is made in part because if he says something, he's not sure which version of Leila is going to answer him-if he's going to get the funny, enigmatic woman he met at the gym, or the unsettlingly cold one from the jet. Steve is adaptable, but as it is, he's got a tenuous grasp on interacting with people in general. Leila seems to working with a different set of rules, and he hasn't learned them yet.

(He hopes that Leila was telling the truth, that she's just "prickly." That it's just a quirk of hers, and not a 21st century thing.)

Ultimately it's a moot point, because Leila's the one who ends up addressing him first, although an argument can be made for Romanoff starting it; she's the one who calls "We're four minutes out. You gonna fill him in, Princess?" from the front seat. That's when Leila shifts to face him. He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"So you saw my file, right? On the way to the helicarrier?"

"Right," he replies. Leila can duplicate the other people's superpowers. Because other people have superpowers, apparently--enough of them that Leila has run into them enough times to establish such a pattern. The prevalence of superpowered people was news to him, but, again--he's adaptable.

"Okay. Good," she says, and the corners of her lips turn up in a faint smirk. "Then don't freak out."

She closes her eyes. When she opens them, the whites of her eyes have overtaken everything else, her iris and pupil disappeared. It lasts a split second, and then her eyes fade back to normal.

He takes that split second to take on a more neutral expression, trying not to look as surprised as he is. He's gotten good at covering up surprise over the past few weeks. Or 84 years. Or whatever. Most times it doesn't even show, he's pretty sure. He hopes.

He's not sure if it works; he doesn't know if the white had impaired her vision or not. If she saw that moment of open astonishment, she doesn't address it. Just studies him. Maybe waiting for the reaction he's so carefully tried to suppress.

Finally, he says "So...that's one of your powers? Glowing eyes?"

She laughs. "No. That's what happens when I let go of dead weight. Too many abilities I'm not using can slow me down in the field. Make it hard to focus"

"Wait, you're on the ground? With me?"

She raises a brow. "Yes? Where else would I be."

"I thought you were on comms with Romanoff." He pauses, realizing how he sounds. "I mean-I didn't think-just because you recruited me, not because you're..."

Leila glances around in mock suspicion, and then leans forward. "A woman?" she whispers conspiratorially. She smirks and sits up. "At ease, soldier. It's a fair assumption to have made. But no. I'm on the ground with you."

He relaxes. "Good. Didn't wanna make you mad at me twice in one day."

She almost grins. "Oh, yeah. I was lenient the first time, but cross me again, Rogers..." She takes on a faux-menacing tone.

He nods, ducking his head to hide his grin. "Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. You seem like the martyr type, so look: if you see me get hurt, no matter how bad, don't worry. Don't do anything. I can't die. Or get hurt."

He ignores the martyr comment for now. "Yeah, a lotta guys think that."

"Sorry, was that skepticism, Soldier Boy?" She smirks again, and pulls out one of what he is assuming is multiple knives she has on her, this one strapped to her thigh. Before he can stop her, she slices her own palm open, and then holds it out for him to see.

His instinct is to reach out for it and inspect the wound, but before he can, he sees it start to heal on it's own. It's like watching a laceration in reverse-the blood that's still within the cut recedes, the skin knits itself back together, leaving only the blood that had spilled out onto her palm. She wipes it clean on her leg.

He just stares at her. "Helpful," he says finally.

She smirks.

Romanoff's voice feels very sudden when she calls out "We're here. You're up, guys."

********

Leila's feeling confident as she stands-not that she isn't always, but you know. Moreso than usual. More than she thought she'd be, going into the field with a semi-stranger.

As much as she prefers to stay distant in her personal life, having a rapport with someone when you're in the field is helpful. It's easier to trust someone--inasmuch as Leila trusts anyone--to watch your back. Too much doubt, too much suspicion is a distraction. If you can't take your eyes off your partner lest they stab you in the back, you end up getting stabbed in the front by someone else.

(Of course, getting too comfortable has it's downsides, too. It's a hard line to walk. As of yet, Steve is likeable, but not too intimate--a good person to work with.)

And knowing someone lets you communicate more easily, somehow. Sometimes with Natasha and Clint, all it takes is a glance to tell them what she's about to do, a nod in return to let her know they understand. The more you talk to someone, the more things can go unsaid. Even now, she and Steve stand in unison, a rhythm already established. Not too close. Not too far.

(Besides which, talking about her powers always puts her in a lighter mood. She doesn't talk about them much-for some reason, it doesn't come up much in casual conversation-but she likes demonstrating them. It might be one of the few things she likes about herself. There's other things she's proud of, but "escaped a cult" and "single-handedly took over a crime ring" aren't really things you brag about.)

The quinjet's ramp begins its descent. Leila tucks her knife back into its pocket.

What happens next happens very fast. Leila starts to turn, and glances down at the street just in time to see what Steve's seeing: Loki, standing amidst a crowd on their knees, pointing a scepter at an elderly man, who among the kneeling crowd is very literally the only one standing up to Loki. It's the same scepter from the fight at the research facility, if she's remembering right, and she probably is; she went through those pictures, looking for any clue as to Clint's well-being or lack thereof, more times than she'd like to admit.

She feels an arm around her waist at the same time she hears Steve say "Need a lift?" And she doesn't, not really, but it's easier to adapt, so she leans into him anyway as he pulls her towards him and then out of the quinjet, his shield lowered to cover their faces.

They land, and the fact that Steve is intentionally trying to take the brunt of the impact does not escape her notice. And she doesn't know if it's instinct that makes him do what he does, or if he's just still not sold on the idea that she requires no special handling. Either way, the effect is the same: the rhythm between them breaks.