A/N: I haven't written any avenger fic before (only jane eyre and pride and prejudice), but i wanted something lighter to bounce into for fun, so here goes! Hope you enjoy.

Oh, this'll probably be pretty short, adventure/romance/fluff, and unfortunately I can't promise to upload super-regularly, but I'll do my best. Thanks for reading!

Steve wore a knit cap for anonymity, a leather coat for warmth, and a concealed weapon for threats. He wove his way down the sidewalk through the campus crowd, wondering what kind of target Hydra might have at MIT. Possibly a fledgling superhero, another spider-kid? Or maybe nothing that unusual. There were plenty of geniuses at MIT who might be the target on their own merit, or perhaps someone had stumbled into research that Hydra wanted.
Either way, Fury had asked Steve to look into it when a contact told them a known Hydra agent had gone undercover as a student.
Steve watched the agent's black puffy coat and green backpack, but trailed him from a discrete distance. Today was for observing the agent's chosen schedule and identifying possible targets.
The heavy January sky looked like it could spit snow any moment and a fierce wind blew between the brick buildings. Students hunched over and clutched their backpacks a little tighter.
An old oak groaned against the wind, and with a crack, a large branch broke away. For a moment it caught in another branch, the twigs and few remaining leaves holding it like Velcro. Slowly it ripped away.
Steve watched in consternation as a woman under the tree paused. She looked up at the noise and stepped back, but then uncertainly stepped forward right under the dangling limb.
"Watch out!" Steve called.
She turned her face towards him blankly. Steve took three giant strides and jerked her out of the way.
He prevented the eight inch limb from clocking her in the head, but she still got raked by the smaller sticks and pulled to her knees.
"Ouch," she shook her head as if to clear away mist. "That sounded heavy."
Steve tightened his grip on her arm and helped her to her feet. Only now did he see the white stick with a red tip at her feet.
She gingerly touched a set of scratches on her neck. They were brilliant red, but not bleeding. "Are you alright?" Steve asked.
"Yes. I guess it's a good thing I'm wearing a thick coat or I would have lost more skin."
Steve glanced around, not pleased to see that Puffy Coat had stopped along with a dozen other students, watching the spectacle. The last thing Steve needed was to get on his radar. Thankfully, the agent only glanced their way before continuing toward the nearby academic building. Steve would give him a minute or two. He knew what classroom he was headed towards.
The woman touched Steve's arm with shaky fingers and smiled at his chin. "Thanks for the assist," she said. "I got confused by the creaking. I couldn't tell where the branch would fall."
Steve couldn't help but realize that he'd found someone who would never recognize him. He didn't have to worry about her seeing past his cap, sunglasses and scruffy beard. Interesting.
And how did she deal with the isolation of this handicap? The smile on her face—kind and thankful—but also a bit disconnected, was eerily familiar. It was how he smiled at most people. Not meeting their eyes, not connecting for real, with no expectation of real understanding.
She was Korean, with shiny black hair and eyes. Very pretty. "Could you grab my cane?" She added, moving her foot cautiously. "It should be right here."
Steve bent down and picked up the pieces. "It's..."
Her face fell. "Broken?"
"I'm sorry." He put the light fiberglass pieces in her hand.
Her fingers closed around them with a convulsive grab, and she released a long sigh.
The wind whipped around her, blowing strands of her long black hair out of the tidy bun.
Steve shifted his weight uneasily. His instincts said to be a gentleman and walk her to where she needed to go, but his job was to tail the agent.
Another girl picked up the messenger bag the woman had dropped. "Professor Kim, it's Micah. I've got your bag here. Are you alright to do class today? I can go on in and cancel if you need to..."
The woman smiled again, and shivered. "Nice try, Micah. I think I can manage. Let's get inside."
Steve faded back as the rest of the students groaned. Apparently they were part of the class and had gotten their hopes up. The professor put her hand on the student's shoulder. "I heard that," she said loudly. "Now Micah, just lead me around this branch and into the building, and I'll be set."
Steve quietly got in front of them and held the glass door as they entered. The professor turned her face towards him for a second, as though questioning who was holding the door, and Steve instinctively turned his head away.
He needed to get a grip. If he felt vulnerable to a blind woman's glance, what next?

To top it off, as he casually drank from a water fountain ten minutes later, and eyed the large lecture hall the Hydra agent had entered, the blind professor came out of an office door and made her way past him.
Her lips were moving slightly, counting her steps. When she put her hand out and felt the door handle on the first try, a pleased smile crossed her face.
Steve waited for her to get in before entering. Thankfully it was a lecture class, freshman level, and there were over a eighty students to blend into.
Steve sank into a chair near the back. He folded his legs up uncomfortably to fit under the tiny writing table attached to the arm rest.
The class was molecular biology, something Steve was interested in anyway, and he found himself mesmerized by the young professor.
Not only was she explaining a complicated subject—complicated to him, anyway—she was doing it without notes. Without visual reference to the plastic models she referred to. She handled the class expertly, even getting them involved in audible class 'votes' as she introduced new information.
It was a kind of power that impressed him. She couldn't see any of them. They could see her. It seemed a clear imbalance of power, but she still held clear command of the situation.
How often did Steve feel that way? That everyone could google his life story and inspect the things that marked his soul, while he looked on modern people and could barely see through the exterior. And yet he still had to lead. Blindly.
He was exaggerating, he chided himself, his problem wasn't like being blind.
But there were definite similarities. Could she be the target of the Hydra agent? His gut said yes.