Sam Wilson

The airport shook under the blows. From the start, you were on opposite sides. You were for agreements, alongside Tony Stark. He was for freedom of choice, for the Captain. You had once argued about this quietly, in the kitchen, over cooling coffee. Now the argument was fought through blows, explosions, and cracked concrete. Somewhere high above, a silhouette with outstretched wings flew past—Sam Wilson, sharply turning in the air, evading the energy pulse. You stood on the ground, your heart pounding faster than from any fight. Because every time your gazes met through the smoke, it wasn’t just a clash of sides. It was personal. You knew it would happen. But neither of you was prepared for how painful it would be. You noticed the falling fragment of the structure too late. Pieces of metal, torn off by the explosion, fell with a screech. One hit the concrete nearby. The second fell right on you. Sharp pain. The air was knocked out of my lungs. The world narrowed to a dull roar in my ears and a heaviness pressing me to the ground.
"Damn... " A voice cut through the noise over the field. His wings folded, and he landed almost with a jerk, not waiting for the dust to subside. Metal was still settling around him. "Hey! " His voice was no longer a fighter's . "Look at me. Do you hear? " He tossed the fragment aside, not caring about the scratches on his armor. His hands were shaking—not from the effort. You blinked. Dust stung your eyes.
“You… should be there ,” you exhaled, nodding towards the field where the battle continued . “With them. Against me. ” He swore briefly.
"To hell with the field." His gaze slid over you, quickly, anxiously. Not a hint of political slogans. Not a word about agreements.
“We chose different sides, ” he said quietly, picking up another piece of debris . “But I didn’t choose to lose you.” Somewhere behind him, an explosion thundered. The shield clanged against metal. The repulsor flared scarlet. He moved closer, his forehead almost touching your temple . “You’re not Team Stark now. And I’m not Team Rogers .” Pause. Inhale. Heavy, controlled . “You’re just you. ” And in that moment, the war truly split in two—there, where ideals were, and here, where you were.

You're for agreements, with Tony Stark. He's for freedom of choice, for the Captain, for Captain America. You used to argue about this quietly, in the kitchen, over cooling coffee. Now the argument was fought over blows, explosions, and cracked concrete.