Chapter Three
"By the way, did they have gifteds in the '40s? Or am I your first?"
It doesn't take long to get to Stuttgart, and the flight is mostly spent in silence, with the hum of the engine serving as white noise. Leila manages to sit still for most of the ride. It's not that her thing with planes is fear, necessarily; just a sort of uncomfortable edginess, an energy with nowhere to put it.
Still, she's relieved when Natasha gives her something else to think about. "We're four minutes out. You gonna fill him in, Princess?"
Leila lifts her head from the wall behind her and looks over at Steve, who looks back, an eyebrow raised. He's curious.
"So you saw my file, right?" Leila asks, just to establish how much information he's missing vs how much he has. "On the helicarrier?"
"Right. The superpower…duplication thing."
"That's the one. By the way, did they have gifteds in the 40s? Or am I your first?"
He ignores the double entendre. "That's classified," he says dryly, and she grins.
"Sorry to pry, then," she says, and then, abruptly, adds. "I'm gonna show you something. Don't freak out."
She closes her eyes.
Letting go of powers is difficult to explain. To Leila, she always pictures it as making a wish on a dandelion, blowing all the seeds off the stem, sending them into ether, leaving her empty but just a little bit lighter, a tiny bit of pressure taken off of her. It's the closest she can come to putting it into words, and prior experience has taught her that people don't really speak the language her mind does on this. So she usually just doesn't explain, or if someone asks, she lies.
She knows, though, what it looks like to other people; it's been described to her, and she's even seen video footage once. So she knows what he sees when she opens her eyes: the whites of them have overtaken everything else, her iris and pupil disappeared. It lasts a split second, and then her eyes fade back to normal, her vision with it.
When she focuses on Steve, he's wearing a neutral expression. "So that's one of your powers? Glowing eyes?"
She laughs. She can't tell if he's joking or not, which kind of makes it funnier. "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?"
Leila raises an eyebrow, surprised. "Yes? Where else would I be."
"I thought you were on comms with Romanoff." He pauses. "I mean–I didn't think–just because you recruited me, not because you're…"
It actually takes Leila a moment to figure out what he thinks he's said. It's a kind of adorable side to him, in a tripping-over-his-own-legs Bambi kind of way.
She glances around in mock suspicion, and then leans forward conspiratorially. "A woman?" she asks, but she's smiling, and she sees Steve relax. She smirks and sits up.
"At ease, soldier," she continues. "It's a fair assumption to have made. But no. I'm on the ground with you."
"Good. Didn't wanna make you mad at me twice in one day."
She almost grins at that. "Oh, yeah. I was lenient the first time, but cross me again, Rogers…"
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."
"Yeah, a lotta guys think that," he says, almost reflexively, but she can tell he knows there's more to what she's saying; he's got that intrigued raised eyebrow look again.
"Sorry, was that skepticism, Soldier Boy?" She pulls out one of the many knives she has on her, this one strapped to her thigh, and slices her own palm open before holding it out for him to see.
He reaches for her hand before apparently thinking better of it, letting it fall to his side as he watches her heal. Leila never gets tired of watching her rapid healing at work. It's like a laceration in reverse–the blood that's still within the cut recedes, and 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, then falters when he adds "Does it hurt?"
She hesitates at this, mostly because nobody has ever asked her this in conversation. The SHIELD techs did, just to get comprehensive data on it, but nobody since then has seen it as anything other than a field advantage.
"No," she says, more quietly than she intends. "No, it–it used to. But I've had for a few years now, and I think it's kind of changed how I experience pain."
He nods, and it's like some part of him understands what she's saying. She wonders if he does, if the serum changed his tolerance for pain, she opens her mouth to ask–
Romanoff's voice feels very sudden when she calls out "We're here. You're up, guys."
It's just as well, she supposes.
She shakes their conversation off as she stands. She's not sure why, but going into the field with Steve now feels dangerous. Maybe because she's just used to working with STRIKE.
As much as Leila 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 trust your partner lest they stab you in the back, you end up getting stabbed in the front by someone else.
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.
Leila has known Steve for about a day. She's never fought with him before. No integration training. It's not that she's scared. It's that she's trying to figure out what she and Steve fighting together looks like, how she's going to keep posted on what he's doing while doing her own thing.
Fury had implied that her mission, separate from Steve's, was need-to-know, but she finds herself thinking now that Steve knowing might have been a better idea.
Or maybe it's just, like, the whole "alien God" thing. That is also a new element in her field work.
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, but something inside her snaps.