Mirror, Mirror ↠ Steve Rogers

Chapter Thirteen

Things are quiet, until they aren't.

There's a soft beep from the dashboard, and Nat glances down. "Stark took off the suit," she says, and the jet is quiet for a moment.

"That's either a good sign or a real fucking bad one," Clint says, putting a voice to their shared thought.

"Given the day we've had, I'm not erring on the side of optimism," Leila replies.

"I forgot what a constant joykill you are," Clint says back, presumably to lighten the mood. It doesn't, like, not help.

"Sorry. I'm sure Stark took off the suit for a completely innocuous reason. Like he just wanted some fresh air to celebrate his victory or something."

"See? That's the spirit."

Still, the tension starts to build up the longer they go without word from Stark. She makes a mental note to snap at him for not giving them a fair warning before he went radio silent when she gets the chance. She's not like, an expert in teamwork, but she knows that communication is an important part of it.

The other shoe finally drops when they reach New York.

"Jesus Christ," she says softly.

Leila's only read about portals in theory, and for some reason she thought it would look less...literal, in real life. It doesn't. It looks, very simply, like a hole has opened up in the sky, and what has to be the chitauri are pouring out. From far away, they almost look normal, humanoid creatures riding what look like black jet-skis. As they descend, she sees a sort of scaly, armored, beetle-esque quality to the riders, and she thinks that whatever it is they're riding might be alive, too. Behind them, she can see flashes of outer space--the night sky, but darker, littered with a cluttered array of white spots that must be stars.

Before anyone can agree with her, something lights up on the dashboard, and Natasha says, with barely contained relief, "Stark's back online." Then, after hitting a comms button, she adds, "Stark, we're heading Northeast."

"What, did you stop for drive-thru? Swing up park, I'm gonna lay 'em out for you."

With that, Leila sees Stark swooping around his tower and towards them, a white jetstream in his wake and a hoard of chitauri on his tail.

Clint and Nat maneuver the jet over a city street, weaving between the skyscrapers and shooting down some of the larger chitauri before pulling up around to Stark tower. Leila stands, gripping the railing above to keep her balance. Partly to get a better view of what's going on, and partly because it makes her feel prepared. Steve follows suit, leaning in to look through the glass windshield.

Loki and Thor are fighting on the balcony overseeing the landing pad of Stark tower.

"Nat?" Clint asks.

"I see 'em."

Clint hits a few buttons as Nat tilts the yoke, and a spray of weapon fire rains down on the Asgardians. Loki glances over, throws his brother to the ground, then turns his full attention to the jet, aiming his scepter. He shoots at the left engine and the blow lands, upsetting the jet and sending Leila colliding into Steve.

He wraps an arm around her waist, cushioning her from the blow as his back slams against his side of the jet, his other hand still gripping the rail. She can't bother to be angry about it this time; she can't even remember why she was angry about it before. God, it seems so trivial now.

She can smell smoke as Clint and Nat start to land the jet, Clint pulling frantically on different levers and buttons as Nat holds the yoke with white knuckles and chemical precision. They're relying on their good engine to slow the inevitable crash, leaving the jet still careening to the side. Steve waits for her to grab onto the railing, locking eyes with her for just a moment as she does, before he lets her go. They share a quick nod, and then the two of them spend what feels like the next fifteen minutes--what is probably only one or two at most--dangling wildly from the railing while the jet finds the ground.

Leila tries to find some stability by pulling herself up and hitting the soles of her boots against the hull of the jet, throwing her weight against it for balance. It works for a moment, until they hit another building with their good wing, sending them hurtling to the ground. Her delicate balance is thrown off, her boots losing their fragile traction with the smooth interior of the jet, and she finds herself crashing against the opposite side of the jet. Oh, hubris.

She sits up, feeling her spine start to bruise and then unbruise as she grips the edge of the seat for balance. She doesn't bother getting up yet, not when she can see they're about to crash anyway.

The jet is at enough of a tilt that she can see directly out the front windows. They're close enough to the ground already that their crash won't be fatal. Still, even Clint and Nat are bracing themselves now, as the nose of the jet meets the ground, digging into the concrete and sending chunks of sidewalk spraying up over the cockpit like reverse hail, with loud thunking sounds that shake the windshields so hard, Leila thinks even SHIELD's military-grade glass might shatter.

Finally she lets go of the seats as the jet grinds to a stop. Steve extends a hand as the back of the jet slides open and she takes it, hopping to her feet quickly. He lets go as soon as she does and makes himself the first one on the ground, his shield at the ready. Leila follows shortly behind, pulling her ring daggers out; Natasha and Clint hop over the cockpit seats and ready their own weapons as they follow.

"We gotta get back up there," Steve calls as he leads them into a wide city street, and the battle seems so much bigger from down here. Debris from damaged buildings and upturned cars litter the street, some on fire, sending up sparks and clouding the air with faint smoke. Parts of the concrete are torn up, although it's hard to know what's the chitauri and what's just Manhattan. People are sprinting in the opposite direction as them--she sees a teenage boy glance at them incredulously as they head into trouble instead of away from it--

They stop when they find themselves under the portal. It's getting bigger now, more and more chitauri pouring out, until--

"Oh my God."