Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve pressed himself against the border wall of the base, quickly looked around the corner, and when he saw that the guard was nowhere to be seen, beckoned the others forward. They all rushed across the open space between the border wall and the closest building, weapons at the ready in case they were spotted. It was surprising that there weren’t any guards or any sort of electronic security systems, but they didn’t have time to dwell on it. At a gesture from Steve, Wanda used her powers to yank open the heavy steel door and they all slipped inside.

They’d been leaving Wakanda on a regular basis for the last several months, hitting HYDRA bases, trying to continue the work they had done as Avengers. Many of the bases were inactive, but they’d left behind equipment and the potential to reactivate. A few of them, like this one, were active, and those were the more dangerous missions, but Steve took them on, because they needed to be done.

They were still technically fugitives, but Steve wouldn’t let that—or Tony’s refusal to see reason—stop them from doing what was right. T’Challa was kind enough to supply them with a place to stay between jobs and the use of one of his stealth jets to get back and forth to their missions, as well as general maintenance of their equipment. Steve had seen a few of the things Shuri had made for T’Challa and wished they could have tech like that for their own missions, but so far T’Challa hadn’t offered and Steve hadn’t asked. He thought it might seem ungrateful to the man who’d taken them in to also expect new tech from him for missions he wasn’t even a part of.

It was irritating to have to dodge the authorities while they worked and on their travels, but they managed. Natasha, who’d joined them in Wakanda just a week and a half after they’d arrived, helped them a lot with that. Wanda did as well—she’d been working on a new, very helpful ability that allowed her to cast a sort of shield around them, which kept people from noticing them. Steve wasn’t entirely sure of all the details of it, just that it helped their stealth when they couldn’t avoid moving through more crowded areas. It wasn’t perfect—going to up to someone and waving their arms would certainly be noticed—but it seemed to make people not want to look in their direction, and it was useful.

It was also annoying to watch the news. Everywhere he looked, officials were condemning them and their actions. Despite the fact that, since their exile, they’d successfully dismantled four old HYDRA bases and even destroyed a couple active operations, they were still called criminals and “dangerous vigilantes.” The same newscasters, politicians, and police who badmouthed Steve and his team consistently praised Tony, who was back home and still playing along with Ross and the stupid Accords, claiming in press conferences that they were “revamping the Avengers” and restructuring everything to work with the Accords. Steve shook his head whenever he saw it, knowing that it was going to blow up in Tony’s face. He was surprised the fact that most of the team was gone hadn’t already proven to the public how ineffective the Accords were, but they’d figure it out sooner or later. Steve just hoped Tony wouldn’t get hurt too badly when that happened. Whatever Tony now thought of him, Steve still cared about him.

They moved silently through the base, weapons up and at the ready, but they didn’t encounter anyone, which was odd. Steve was sure this base was active. The concern that they could be walking into a trap was growing, but this was necessary work and he was confident they could deal with whatever was thrown at them.

They all had to stop in shock, however, when they turned a corner and found the guards on the floor. Some of them were bleeding from bullet wounds to the legs, others were unconscious from something unseen, maybe gas or a hit to the head. One of the few still conscious aimed a gun at Steve as they approached, but the hand holding it shook and it was almost no effort at all to move forward and kick it out of the agent’s hand.

“Someone got here before us,” Sam said, and Steve nodded. That much was obvious, but who?

Natasha moved forward and knelt next to the agent Steve had just disarmed. “Who did this to you?” she asked, but the agent just gave her a smile and then spit at her feet. She struck quickly, living up to her codename, with a few jabs to the shoulder and chest that had the agent slumping to the floor.

“Whoever it was may still be here. This is recent work,” she observed as she stood once more. “This is dangerous; we should go. Whoever they are, if they’re after HYDRA, they’re either worse than them or they consider themselves on the side of the law. Either option isn’t good for us.”

Steve shook his head at that. The statement was true, but he hated hearing it. Hated that they would need to hide from someone who considered themselves just and was doing this because it was right. “We came here to destroy this operation and to gather any info we can,” he said, “we should make sure we finish the mission.”

“We can always come back and do that,” Natasha said, and there was a warning in her voice. “This is a big risk.”

Steve looked around at his team. All of them were there except Bucky, who was still in cryo in Wakanda while T’Challa’s people figured out a solution for the trigger words, and Scott, whose suit had had some sort of malfunction on their last mission. He was back in Wakanda too, trying to figure out how to fix it and acting as their tech support in the meantime—he wasn’t as good as T’Challa’s people, but he had more time to devote exclusively to them. If they stayed and finished this, Steve was risking Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Wanda. But that was a risk they took every time they went out.

He shook his head. “You said yourself it might not be someone good. What if it’s someone who’s trying to take HYDRA’s info to do something even worse with it? We can’t just leave and let them do it because we’re afraid of getting caught. We need to finish the mission.”

Natasha stared him down for a few more seconds, but she relented and nodded. She was usually in charge of keeping them out of trouble with the law, with her experience having to evade officials and criminals alike. It was natural that she would be careful and want to avoid unnecessary risks, but it irked Steve that she would try to pull them away from something as important as this.

“Come on,” he said, pulling them all back into the mission and moving forward toward the center of the compound. “Wanda, are your shields still up? If whoever got here before us is still here, I don’t want them knowing we’re coming.”

“They’re up,” Wanda said from behind him. “I’ll put a little more juice into them just to be sure.”

Steve nodded his appreciation as they moved forward. They still needed to be stealthy—Wanda’s shields wouldn’t keep someone from physically seeing them or hearing them, particularly in the now empty base—but hopefully she could create interference with electronics and any security systems that might detect their presence.

As they snuck closer to the command center, they found more downed agents and no more answers. There didn’t seem to be many signs of a struggle, as though the HYDRA agents had gone down quickly with minimal fighting. Even if an entire team of highly trained officers had come in and ravaged them, it seemed like there should have been signs of a bigger firefight, at least some bodies down from the other side. This was the cleanest operation Steve had seen in a long time.

He understood why when they finally snuck around a corner and got a view of the control room. It was a large space, full of computers and other equipment, a maze which allowed them to look inside while mostly remaining hidden from view. It also gave them a good view of the Iron Man armor pacing the floor in sentry mode while Tony Stark stood at one of the computers alone, out of the armor, muttering to himself while he typed away.

The others quickly pulled back when they saw what they were up against. Steve stared for a few more seconds, overcome with a rush of unidentifiable emotions at seeing Tony for the first time in months, but he was forced to pull back as well when the armor turned. He didn’t want to risk it noticing them.

Steve looked to Wanda with wide eyes, and she nodded to tell him that her shields were fully in place. He knew they must be, otherwise Tony would have known they were coming. It was hard not to feel fear about the possibility when Tony was standing in the next room, but he had faith in Wanda. When he exchanged glances with the others, though, he could see that they didn’t feel the same way. Nat shook her head, features tight, Sam had backed away another two steps, and Clint shook his head violently, jerking his thumb back the way they came, the message clear: let’s get the hell out of here before he sees us.

Steve hesitated again, this time for an entirely different reason. Clearly Tony wasn’t there to do anything dangerous with the HYDRA data, but… this was the first time Steve had been so close to him since Siberia. He’d sent his letter, but had never gotten a response. Tony had been in interviews and press conferences plenty of time since then, many times asked about Steve and his team, and he’d never said much beyond generic statements like “The Council is debating next steps” and “I have nothing more to say at this time.” Steve wanted so badly to be able to talk to Tony and while he knew, logically, that Tony would probably just try to arrest them if he caught them there, another part of him wished to reveal himself just for the opportunity to finally have a conversation.

But then there was a shift, suddenly, in Tony’s tone from the next room, and Steve froze in place when he tuned in to what was being said.

“—ference? What kind of interference? Get a lock on it. –No, try… what do you mean, a block? Made of what? There’s not a firewall on the planet you can’t break through, what are…” There was a brief, tense silence, and then Steve heard a hissed, “shit.”

Steve’s eyes widened—Tony knew they were there. He risked another peek around the corner at the same time as Clint, just in time to see Tony, entire body tense and posture defensive, reach back to motion to the armor still standing sentry.

The armor turned and took one step towards Tony, but before it could reach him, a familiar red mist shot past where Steve and Clint were peering around the corner and enveloped Tony. Tony stiffened, then went still and dropped his hands. Steve whirled around to see Wanda with her hands out, glaring into the room as she took Tony over with her powers.

Just as Steve opened his mouth to say something to Wanda, however—what exactly he was going to tell her, he wasn’t sure—he heard a series of mechanical noises from the control room and then the sound of Clint’s bowstring accompanied his cursing.

By the time Steve turned back, the armor was falling, an arrow piercing its chest just to the side of the main reactor and electric charges sparking across it. It went dark as it fell with an almighty crash. Steve couldn’t help the wince at the sound, but Tony, who was standing much closer to it, didn’t so much as blink, red-tinted eyes still staring blankly ahead.

How had so much gone wrong so quickly?

Steve looked at the fallen armor and back at Clint. “What did you do?” he asked incredulously.

Clint threw his hands up, slinging his bow back over his shoulder. “EMP arrow, powered down the suit, at least temporarily. Still had it back from the old days—Stark gave it to me years ago.” When Steve just stared at him, Clint scowled. “What was I supposed to do? The armor’s job is to protect him, it knew when he was taken over. I couldn’t let it get to him, it would have sent out a distress signal and we’d have a SWAT team, or whatever the hell this country has, on our asses before we could get out of the damn base. Why are you asking me anyway?” He turned to aim an unusually sour look at Wanda. “What did you have to do that to him for? We could have just turned around and gotten the hell out. Now look!” He gestured into the room behind him where Tony stood still and blank, but contrary to his own words, he didn’t seem able to look at Tony.

Wanda crossed her arms with a resentful look at Clint. “You heard him, he knew we were here. He would have found us before we could get out, or called backup.” Her face softened as she sent an imploring look up at Steve. “He was—pushing against my shields. I can’t hold them up when someone’s looking for us. He would have found us and arrested us. What was I supposed to do?”

Steve wanted to reprimand her for taking Tony over like that, but looking at her, he was reminded how painfully young she was. How new to this. She’d seen a potential threat and done what she thought was necessary to protect her team, and after all… no one was hurt. Tony’s armor took some damage, but Steve knew he had more.

“It’s okay,” Steve said, trying to sound reassuring, “we’ll figure it out.”

Natasha was gazing into the room where Tony stood, eyes roaming over the fallen armor and the computers Tony had been working at. “He knew something was going on; it’s possible the armor would have sent some kind of a signal before we got to it. Either way, once contact was lost, whoever’s back home is sure to know something’s wrong. We need to get out of here.”

Steve nodded and made a movement like he was going to turn to leave, which spurred the others into action. They turned back toward the hallway, but then Wanda made a motion with her hand and Tony walked through the control room to come and stand beside them.

“Woah, wait,” Sam said suddenly, eyes flicking between Wanda, Tony, and Steve. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Wanda said.

“He’s not coming with us,” Sam said, and this time he was looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, glancing back into the control room at the abandoned armor. The arrow sticking out of its chest and the darkened reactor nodules were a disturbing sight and Steve found himself looking away quickly. “We can’t leave him here with no working armor.”

Again, a voice in his head said, and he thoroughly quashed the thought just as Nat spoke up. “I’m sure he could fix the armor. Probably with what he’s got in that room.”

Steve shook his head again, more firmly this time. “What if there’s more guards around? We’re not leaving him.”

It was Sam’s turn to cross his arms. “So what, we’re kidnapping him instead?”

“We’re not kidnapping him,” Steve said, scowling at the dramatics. He was just trying to look out for Tony. He looked to Nat. “Didn’t you say we have to leave fast? Let’s get moving.”

He turned to stride down the hall; Wanda waved a hand and Tony followed him. The others trailed behind, Sam shaking his head. “Steve, you understand how much trouble we’re about to be in, right? Do you have any idea what his people are going to do, to say, when they find out we took him? If you thought the world was against us before…”

That irritated Steve, the thought of Rhodes and the others back home turning this into some kind of spectacle or ordeal. Steve wouldn’t hurt Tony and the others should know that, but with the way they’d been ignoring the media’s attacks on Steve and his team, Steve wouldn’t put it past them to turn this little incident into something big. It also bothered him that Sam’s mind was immediately jumping to that. “He’s not hurt. We’ll figure out what to do about this as soon as we’re somewhere safe. He’ll be fine—we’re his friends,” Steve said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“Speak for yourself,” Wanda muttered behind him, and when Steve turned to glance back at her, he saw a flash of something almost like fear cross Clint’s face. He put it out of his mind in order to focus on getting out of the compound as fast as possible, but promised himself he’d address it later, both Wanda’s comment and whatever was going on with Clint.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally out, but one stress replaced another when they reached the concealed Wakandan jet and Natasha moved to block his way onto the ramp. “Steve, we can’t bring him on board.”

Wanda sneered. “He won’t remember anything he sees on it,” she announced, and Steve saw both Sam and Clint glance at her uneasily.

Natasha just shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. T’Challa’s already sticking his neck out letting us borrow a jet when we go out. I know he approves of our missions,” she added, seeing Steve open his mouth to say something, “but you know very well the Dora and a lot of his people don’t like him giving Wakandan resources out to us so easily. If we bring Tony back there, even if he weren’t…” she glanced over at Tony’s blank, red eyes, “compromised, T’Challa wouldn’t let it go so easily. You don’t want to risk him throwing us out.”

She was right, Steve realized despairingly, they couldn’t take the jet back. He knew very well that T’Challa was facing more and more pushback from the rest of Wakanda for letting Steve’s team have free run of the buildings where they were housed, keeping Bucky there and searching for a cure for him, and even lending the jet to them. T’Challa had pulled Steve aside more than once to caution that if they used the jet or any other Wakandan resources for anything more than their HYDRA-busting missions, the King might not be able to continue letting them use it.

Steve glanced once more at Tony. He couldn’t just leave him behind, even if it meant leaving the jet until they could figure this out. A few more days before he could get back to Bucky… but the tradeoff was the chance to talk to Tony, to potentially even sort all of this out and take steps toward bringing them all home. Steve couldn’t pass that up.

“Okay,” he announced, “you’re right, we can’t bring more trouble to T’Challa. We can head out from here, into the next town over, find a… motel or something, lie low for a bit while we figure this out. And we will figure it out,” he said firmly to the less than confident look on Sam’s face. “Let’s go.”

Clint grumbled and Sam still looked unconvinced, but they followed him when he took the lead again. Wanda waved a few fingers once more and Tony followed them silently, obediently, walking practically in step with Wanda. Steve couldn’t help but think that this was the easiest travel he’d ever had with Tony—no constant quips or jokes or questioning of his choices. A twinge of guilt followed that thought, but he quickly suppressed it.

Despite his complete faith in Wanda’s control, it was a tense few hours before they found themselves far enough away from the base that they felt comfortable finding a cheap, dirty motel that seemed just sketchy enough not to ask questions or care who they were. Clint volunteered to go and get them a room, claiming he was the least recognizable, particularly since he’d grown a beard in the last few weeks that wasn’t present in any of his wanted photos.

He came back out with keys to two adjoining rooms with a door between them. When Steve frowned at the idea—booking more than one room not only cost more, but drew more attention to them as well—Clint rolled his eyes. “Look at this place, it’s tiny. Who knows how long we’re going to be here. I’m not sharing a single room with five of you, thanks.”

Steve frowned again at the implication that this situation might take a long time to resolve, but after a glance at Tony, he kept his mouth shut and just nodded, entering the room. As expected, it was simple and not very clean, but it would get the job done. Clint opened the door between the rooms to reveal an identical one next door. At least they had two bathrooms between the six of them.

Unfortunately, busying themselves with locking the doors, glancing out the windows for potential tails, and removing what gear they could only took up a few minutes. When Steve had done everything he could think of, he was forced to sit heavily on the bed in the first room and just look at Tony, who was standing in a corner out of the way, still staring straight ahead. Steve spent a moment just looking him over, trying to catalogue the physical changes since the last time he’d seen him, but Sam and Nat, who were also in the room, kept giving him sideways looks and it was distracting him.

Clint came back from the other room just as Steve finally made a decision. He’d wanted to put the girls in one room and the guys in another, for chivalry’s sake, but he really wanted Tony on his own if possible. “Why don’t we stay here if we can,” he gestured to the first room at large, “and the other one can be Tony’s. For now.”

Wanda, who’d been brushing her hands through her hair in front of the chipped mirror outside the bathroom, scoffed without turning around. “What, Stark gets his own room and we all have to share?” Steve tried to give her a stern look when she met his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “Fine, whatever.” She flicked a finger again and Tony started forward, walking himself stiffly into the next room.

He walked right past Clint, who was standing just inside the doorway between rooms, arms crossed and a dangerous scowl on his face. He was wound tighter than Steve had seen in a long time. Steve saw his eyes track Tony’s movements, and just as Tony passed him, he snapped, “Stop.”

Steve frowned, confused, wondering what his problem was with Tony, but then Clint looked up to Wanda, and Steve was shocked to see the utter absence of his usual fondness for her. “Can you just… stop making him walk around like a fucking zombie?” Steve was taken aback at the anger in his voice, but then it changed, became something more fearful as Clint looked at him. “It’s just… too much like Loki.”

Steve took in a breath and it felt sharp in his chest. Of course. He hadn’t thought about the implications for someone who’d been controlled before. He hadn’t thought about the memories it was certain to bring back for Clint, and that was unfair. Wanda’s control wasn’t the same, she wasn’t hurting Tony or forcing him to hurt anyone else, but Steve could still see how it would bother Clint.

He got up off the bed and looked into the other room, seeing Tony now standing next to the bed. Tony was a handful, but Steve figured with the five of them, they could keep him under control. They were as settled in the rooms as they were going to get, and at some point, Steve needed the opportunity to talk to Tony. That’s what all of this was about. They wouldn’t be able to go anywhere or do anything until Steve could talk sense into Tony.

“Let him go,” he instructed Wanda, but she crossed her arms, turning around to face him.

“He’ll try to run. Or hurt one of us,” she countered, but Steve shook his head. He saw Clint stiffen even more out of the corner of his eye, clearly uncomfortable with her reluctance to release Tony.

“Out of the suit, he can’t hurt us. We can keep an eye on him, keep him under control. It won’t be too hard.” He prayed that he was telling the truth. He needed to get through to Tony to make this work, and he was sure he could do it, but Tony could be incredibly stubborn and contrary, and who knew how hard he would make this in the meantime.

Wanda glared between him and Clint for a minute before rolling her eyes. “Fine. Whatever you want, Steve.” There was something in her tone that Steve didn’t like, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. She waved a hand one more time and Steve stepped into the other room to watch Tony.

There was a moment of stillness, then Tony’s whole body jerked like he was coming out of a dream. He looked around, eyes wide, taking in the room. When he turned and saw Steve standing there, Steve tried to hitch a smile onto his face, but the look on Tony’s stopped him. There was confusion in his eyes, yes, but also fear, and something terrible that Steve couldn’t put a finger on.

Tony took him in for half a second before opening his mouth like he was going to say something, but then his entire body abruptly stiffened and he snapped it closed again. His eyes flicked away from Steve, first to the doorway of the room and then to the wall. Steve was surprised that he had nothing to say, but maybe he was just taking a moment to think up the worst things to say. Steve could admit he was glad for the delay, even if Tony was coming up with more insults and anger to spit at him later. Tony was breathing heavily, but he didn’t move except to twitch a hand when Steve stepped toward him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he said, trying to sound soothing. Tony barely reacted, but Steve heard a soft sound from the doorway and glanced over to see Clint and Wanda both standing there, arms crossed. Wanda was looking at Tony, but Clint was watching Steve.

“Why don’t you sit down, huh?” Steve suggested. Tony glanced over at him, then shuffled over a few tentative steps before sitting slowly on the edge of the bed. Steve wondered if his muscles were sore from all the standing around before Wanda released him.

Steve looked to the doorway again. Clint and Wanda were still there, and behind them, Steve could see Nat and Sam peering into the room. “Hey, can you guys… give us a minute?” Steve asked. “We really need to talk.”

Clint gave him a hard look, but retreated. Wanda moved back as well after a lingering look at Tony, and they closed the door between rooms. Steve had no doubt the walls were thin and the others would probably be trying to listen in, but at least they had the illusion of privacy.

Steve approached the bed. Tony had wrapped his arms around himself and was hunched slightly where he sat, clearly unhappy with the situation. Steve couldn’t exactly blame him, waking up here so suddenly had to be a little disorienting. Still, he was among friends, and he ought to know he was safe. “Hey,” Steve said, trying to be friendly, moving to stand in front of where Tony was sitting.

Tony didn’t look up at him, however. He turned his head when Steve moved into his view, and when Steve tried again to say something to him, he was ignored.

Steve felt himself tensing, irritated, but forced himself to take a deep breath and step back. He’d known Tony would probably be difficult about it, knew it was going to take some time to calm him down. For now, it would probably be better to give him a minute alone—or as close to alone as they could reasonably leave him—before Steve really tried to get through to him.

“I’ll give you a few minutes, okay?” Steve said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when Tony once again didn’t respond. He was trying to be patient, but it was hard not to be annoyed at the childish display. Refusing to talk to them wasn’t going to help the situation and Tony knew it.

The others gave him skeptical looks when he opened the door between rooms so soon. “Give him a minute,” he said softly.

Wanda crossed her arms. “What, to escape? Sabotage us?”

Steve glanced back into the room. Tony could no doubt hear them, but he still hadn’t moved from his position on the bed. “Leave the door open. We can keep an eye on him from in here. But just… give him space. I’ll talk to him in a bit, okay?”

Wanda rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary, but acquiesced. Steve saw that Sam and Clint were watching him and tried to smile reassuringly, moving to the tiny bathroom to splash some water on his face—and to seek some privacy for a moment while he gathered his thoughts.

Steve was neither stupid nor naïve, no matter how often Tony had tried to accuse him of either in the past. He knew this wasn’t going to end with all of them going home hand in hand tomorrow. One conversation with Tony wasn’t going to convince him to bring them back in an instant, but it would be an important start. Steve knew that if he could just give Tony enough to think about, it would take root and might lead somewhere good.

But in the meantime, he would need to make sure Tony didn’t immediately come after them. Steve wouldn’t put it past him to try to hunt them down immediately as revenge for his wounded pride, hurt at being caught by them so easily and annoyed because Steve made him sit down and actually talk like an adult. They would need enough time to get away, back to their concealed jet and to Wakanda, preferably before Tony’s friends even found him. Steve’s mind was rapidly forming plans involving leaving Tony temporarily incapacitated—not injured, of course, perhaps just tied up, something Steve was sure he could get himself out of but that would surely take some time—to give them enough time to get out. He nodded to his reflection in the mirror, trying to dispel the doubts clouding his thoughts.

This would work.

Chapter Text

Tony wasn’t entirely sure where it all went wrong.

He’d known, somewhere deep down, that there was always a possibility of running into the rogue Avengers if he was going to go out and try to hit HYDRA bases. They were clearly out there, obviously thinking of themselves as “heroes” who were being unfairly persecuted by the Evil Government—and, of course, Evil Tony Stark—but so long as their “work” was limited to HYDRA bases, most of which were abandoned, Tony really didn’t care what they thought or where they were.

There was some push, of course, for him to try to track them down and apprehend them whenever they appeared again. He shared the majority of what he knew with the Council and the US government and whoever else wanted to know, because after all, if anyone was going to apprehend the Rogues, it would more likely be a highly qualified and well-trained military group than a few individuals, enhanced though they may be.

Whenever the officials started down that path, however—and they did every single time the Rogues showed up again, constantly repeating the same process like some kind of hellish, headache-inducing time loop—it inevitably fizzled out. Before issues like the logistics of tracking them or catching them or who exactly would be in charge of the operation could even come up, the more obvious problems reminded everyone why they hadn’t yet done anything about the Rogues.

Reminders like injuries and deaths and a collapsed tunnel and a destroyed airport. Reminders like the condition Tony had been in when Vision had brought him back from Siberia. No one ever said it outright, but the fear was clear: if Rogers and his gang were willing to kill innocents and do that kind of damage to a friend, how could anyone else hope to catch them? How much further would they be willing to go to avoid capture? It was the fear and the outrage over what they’d already done that drove people to demand they be brought to justice, but that same fear made everyone wary of taking real action.

Tony knew where they were, of course. There weren’t many places in the world that the group could hope to hide. Even fewer where they’d have access to the resources needed to be going out and hitting HYDRA bases. The fact that Barnes hadn’t been sighted with the rest of them meant that he was stashed away somewhere, back at a base that Rogers returned to regularly, because Rogers would never let him out of his sight permanently now that he’d done so much just to get him back.

To Tony, it was incredibly obvious. To many of the Council and the UN, Tony was pretty sure it was nearly as obvious. But in the tried and true tradition of politics, no one had outright said anything. The world was more complicated than people like Rogers liked to think, and there were a lot of reasons it wouldn’t be a good idea to go after T’Challa for taking in international fugitives, spitting on the Accords his father had helped draft, and still acting high and mighty about himself and his country even while he harbored the Rogues.

Tony had never been in a true elected political position, though of course in the States, business and politics were so closely intertwined that he’d inevitably had his fair share of political experience. He’d held an astonishing amount of political power at various points in his life, and he’d used it more than once. He’d influenced politicians with money, charm, and connections, for his own gain, for his company’s, for friends and charities and the Avengers and any number of other causes. His formal lessons on politics had started when he was six years old. They’d been mixed in with and just as heavily focused on as his lessons on actually running a business—after all, the only way to really advance a business is through political maneuvering.

So he was well versed in politics, and he understood well the hesitations that the politicians had. He also knew that T’Challa was likely trained heavily in the political machinations of the rest of the world, and that the timing of his bringing Wakanda into the light was more than just coincidence. Since revealing his country’s immense wealth and technological power, he’d created a major upset. People were jealous, greedy, and wary, all at once. Wakanda was still an unknown, but was highly desirable at the same time. No one would risk losing political face by insulting their king through leveling accusations at him any more than they’d want to lose the potential of Wakanda as a trade partner or a resource.

There was also honest fear about Wakanda’s power level. Smaller countries wondered—if they dared accuse T’Challa of the crimes they suspected him of, would they risk their country being wiped off the map? Or, more subtly and perhaps more realistically, their internal structure suddenly thrown into chaos, their trade partners mysteriously pulling back, their economy destabilized, mass emigration? These were real fears, ones Tony understood even if he didn’t have to contend with them himself.

Those were the most clear, obvious, and unique reasons that no one was willing to call out Wakanda, but there were the usual and mundane ones as well. Most of it boiled down to the fact that you just didn’t do that. Red tape was the term, and a fairly accurate one too. Rogers and his blind sheep hadn’t been entirely wrong when they expressed their concerns about too much government involvement in the affairs of the Avengers (even though, Tony knew, it wasn’t really about that for Rogers. The man had never in his life given a thought to due process or the long-reaching consequences of his actions or the inevitable bureaucratic side of every problem, at least not voluntarily. For Rogers, it had been about throwing a tantrum because someone was trying to tell him what he couldn’t do, like mow down civilians because they were between him and Barnes).

What they didn’t understand and Tony did, however, was that the only way to successfully make changes was to work with the system. Rogers had a black and white view of the world, and that translated into extremely simplistic, ignorant, and overly idealistic opinions on the political and business worlds. Rather than understand that there were flaws in the system and work within that system to effect change, he’d rather waste his time, energy, and influence raging against the “injustice” of its inevitable imperfections, which in the end meant nothing got done at all.

Were he in Tony’s place, Rogers would have been at a press conference months ago, announcing to the world that T’Challa was a hypocrite who was harboring international fugitives—terrorists in some countries—and that he and Wakanda should be condemned for going back on their word and then essentially attempting to blackmail the world into forgiving all of their sins by holding their hoarded resources and tech over the heads of everyone who might benefit from them. But Tony understood all the ways that could backfire and all the reasons it wouldn’t be a good idea. He knew that it would create more problems than it would fix, and so he was forced to stay silent and pretend he didn’t know as much as he did.

What it all meant was that Council and the others, though they wanted the Rogues brought in, really just wanted the problem to disappear. They were reluctant to deal with the issue on their own, understandably, but when they approached Tony and the Avengers about the problem, they received his own regrets. They’d been understanding of Tony’s answer, more so than he’d honestly expected out of them. They sympathized when he told them that with the Avengers’ reduced manpower and their previous failures, he wasn’t sure it was worth the risk to go after the Rogues, not to mention the potential consequences of taking the few active Avengers who still remained away from their normal roles.

In return for their understanding, Tony was open and honest with them, to a point. He told them what he knew about the Rogues, their equipment and their strategies and where and when they were sighted, with the exception of his certainty of their location. He knew that he could push for T’Challa to be called out, but he understood the reasons that would be a bad idea, and so he didn’t.

Maybe a part of it was his own fear, or hurt, or sentimentality, whatever the hell he was feeling toward the group. He’d been trying to figure out for months what his feelings were regarding the lot of them, and the only conclusion he’d reached was that he was tired. He was tired of worrying about them, tired of second-guessing himself and every choice he’d made, tired of examining every interaction and wondering whether there was any sign of their impending betrayal, or anything he could have done differently to prevent it. He was tired of caring about them.

So whenever they were out and about, Tony mostly tried his best to ignore it. He always performed a cursory search after they’d hit somewhere, and he analyzed what data he got, but their movements were always well-concealed—no doubt thanks to Wakandan tech, certainly not any skills of theirs—and he never had much to say. He never got a solid enough lead to actually track them, and so far, they hadn’t caused any serious damage. They’d been hitting only HYDRA bases, doing some good for the world, and most of them weren’t even occupied.

He had been a little disturbed by a few things. Chief among them was the testimony of the few witnesses he’d been able to find—not because they’d come forward, but because once he knew what he was looking for, it wasn’t too hard to track down recent hospital visits for people with strange amnesia-like symptoms and some dizziness.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about what he heard from them. None of them remembered anything except the initial sight of the Rogues, after which they all described some variation on “being in a haze” and then “waking up” standing up and fully aware. Most of them worried they’d had some sort of stroke and had gone straight to the nearest doctor. What it meant to Tony was that Maximoff was aware enough to notice witnesses and was using her powers on them. When he’d reported that to the Council, naturally, there was outrage at her use of powers on innocents and fear of her abilities, which were to be expected. Tony saw that it meant she had more control than she’d previously shown, but that she was as blind as Rogers to her own impact and the consequences of her actions. Her words about not wanting others to fear her were clearly empty, not that Tony had ever really doubted it.

Now he knew what the others had gone through, at least when it came to the initial control. What disturbed him the most, at least at first, was that he’d had almost no warning. He had sensors in place for everything conceivable when he entered HYDRA bases, where there was a possibility he’d run into the Rogues, yet they’d still gotten the drop on him. It told him that Maximoff was powerful in ways he hadn’t known about before and controlled enough now to interfere with his tech, and that scared the shit out of him. His tech was his only defense against her.

The next thing he knew after the “fog” had cleared was waking up next to some ratty bed in a seedy looking room, reminiscent of some of the kidnappings of his youth. His first few thoughts had been some two-bit villain, roofies and deviant sexual activity, and black market organ removal, respectively. The most recent memory of the HYDRA base and FRIDAY alerting him to strange readings and stepping out of the suit was vague and took a minute to completely come back to him. By the time it did, he was looking around the room and his eyes had landed on Rogers.

A hundred emotions swelled in him at the sight, none of them good. Not when the realization hit him, that this was in fact some two-bit villain, really. The most infuriating kind, too, from the look on Rogers’s face; the kind that pretended to be on your side, to be your friend. Well fuck him.

Tony had opened his mouth to tell Rogers exactly that when he was hit with hell.

For half a second, he could have sworn he was back in the cave, with his chest open to the air. Screaming while Yinsen’s hands were inside him, putting him back together with not much more than rubber bands and safety pins. But the pain was coursing through his entire body, centered in his chest but radiating outward, pulsing and stabbing into his head and all the way down to his feet. He wanted to scream, to collapse, to do anything… but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place completely, not able to move a muscle or make a sound, while Rogers stood there totally oblivious to his agony. He wondered for a moment if he was going insane.

Then he caught sight of her. The witch was standing in a doorway behind Rogers, out of his view, and angled just right to be out of Barton’s as well. Watching him with her usual sneer and just enough of a smirk that he knew. Not only was she doing this to him, with full awareness and absolutely on purpose, she was enjoying it.

He was fucked.

Since then, he’d been trapped in some version of the same hell. Evidently she thought the best way to keep him quiet and acquiescent was to keep him in constant pain and fear—a tactic that was fairly effective, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. He was aware of his surroundings, at least as much as he could be through the constant low-level itching discomfort, but if he so much as twitched a finger toward the door or glared at Rogers, he was hit with intense, breath-stealing pain. When Rogers had told him to take a seat, he’d had a mini panic attack inside his head. How was he supposed to move? But when he gingerly tried testing the order, he found he could do it. Naturally, with Rogers just about the only person the little witch would listen to, Tony could obey him too without provoking her wrath. It made him want to gag, but he did it anyway.

He ranted in his head, he hated them both, he feared them. The indignity of it was paralyzing. After Afghanistan, once he’d built Iron Man, he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t end up in such a physically compromised situation again, with even his own bodily functions out of his control. Maybe it was a manifestation of PTSD to build suit after suit to protect himself and his loved ones, but it made him feel better. And yet here he was, in the same fucking situation, thanks to Captain fucking America and his doe-eyed pet Nazi.

When Rogers finally left him alone—or rather, retreated maybe ten feet away, but he’d take it—he thought he’d get a break, but of course not. Though the intense pain and simultaneous paralysis that hit him when he tried to talk back or move independently was gone, now she was inflicting flashbacks on him. Or visions, maybe. Whatever.

Every few minutes, he was seeing flashes of past events: the bomb in Afghanistan, Yinsen’s death, nearly losing Pepper, Rhodey falling, the video of his parents’ murder, JARVIS’s death, Rogers bringing the shield down on his chest. There was plenty in his past to pull from. Interspersed with the real memories were some fake ones; repeats of the vision he’d seen so long ago plus a few new scenes, mostly of the people he cared about dying in front of him. It had started out as just seconds, flashes that seemed to overlap reality. But it was getting worse. They were lasting longer, and becoming more intense. The emotions were stronger, and he knew it was Maximoff’s influence. During the last few, he’d been completely out of it, and when he came back it was a struggle to remember where he was and what was going on. Only for a moment, but it terrified him. The visions were seeming more and more real.

The others were watching him, never far away, and he found himself hating them too. Maybe irrationally, but with Maximoff torturing him, it was pretty damn hard to be objective or sympathetic. Despite the paralysis, and Maximoff’s no doubt intentional little trick to be sure he wouldn’t be trying to make any contact with any of them, there was no way he wasn’t showing some signs. Body language, for sure. His “refusal” to talk, when anyone who actually knew him would know that his first instinct—and his second and third—would always be to talk his way out of a situation.

But, he realized with some despair, these people didn’t know him, not really. That was part of why they’d split so spectacularly. They’d never bothered to really know anything about him, and they’d scorned his attempts to get to know them. Rogers had no idea what to do with the few working brain cells he had, and could convince himself of practically anything if it made him feel like he was doing the right thing, so Tony doubted he’d notice what Maximoff was doing. Was there any chance that the others would?

Wilson was out. From his files and his history, he seemed like a decent enough guy with a good head on his shoulders, but apparently the legend of Captain America made him throw all of that out the window. He followed Rogers blindly, nothing but a yes man since meeting him. Tony was almost embarrassed for him, except for the fact that his willful blindness had led to civilian casualties. That caused more anger than pity. If Rogers didn’t see anything wrong with Maximoff, or with the way Tony was acting, there was no chance Wilson would.

Barton was supposed to be an expert at seeing the little things, but he’d never been all that great with people and emotions. At least, that’s what he’d told Tony once, in a rare moment of camaraderie and friendship between them. And since Germany and the Raft, Barton had seemed to genuinely hate Tony, which he hadn’t really understood. They’d gotten along well enough in the past, even if they were never exactly friends, but suddenly Barton was just spitting venom. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if it was about Maximoff; Barton had taken an immediate liking to her, treating her like a daughter, which Tony couldn’t understand but had tried to stay out of. Even if Barton knew what was going on now, Tony wasn’t sure he’d care.

He was surprised that Natasha, supposedly master of reading the tiniest cues, couldn’t see it in his eyes. But then again, maybe she could. Maybe she was just choosing to ignore it. Natasha, more than any of them, had never bought into the whole “superhero” bullshit. Being an Avenger had been about repayment for her sins, the same way Iron Man had first been for Tony. But Natasha framed everything in terms of herself, and the one thing she hated more than anything else was her own personal weakness.

She knew that she had chosen the wrong side in Germany and now she was paying the price. Worse, she knew it was for no good reason. She’d chosen Steve not because it was the smart choice, not because he was doing “the right thing” or because he was more likely to win. No, she’d picked his side for one reason only: sentiment. She liked him better than Tony, quite possibly because he was much easier to manipulate. That caused her to become a wanted criminal, and Tony knew, without a doubt, that she was seething because of it.

He also knew that at her core, she was a flawed human like the rest of them, and that she didn’t want to accept her own faults. A part of her would not accept that she’d made a mistake of that magnitude based entirely on feelings. A combination of her own stubborn, slightly narcissistic personality and the training that had broken her down as a human being and remade her into a killing machine would reject the idea that she’d screwed up so badly for no reason.

Instead, she would look for outside sources to blame, and Tony was a convenient target. If he hadn’t stuck by his principles and stayed with the Accords even though Steve rejected them, if he hadn’t refused to fully trust Natasha ever since her stint posing in his company, then maybe things would have worked out differently. If Tony just hadn’t been so damn unlikeable, then maybe she wouldn’t have made the wrong choice.

The more he thought about his present company, the more he realized that he would be getting no help here. His only choice was to sit through it and hope that rescue came as soon as possible—that, or Maximoff would make a mistake he could exploit. Rhodey was out there already, looking for him, he was sure of it. As soon as the armor lost contact with him it would have been reported to the Council. And if the armor had been disabled somehow, which he assumed happened—otherwise Rogers and his pals never could have gotten Tony to this shitty motel without being blasted into dust—then that would have sent an alert to the Council and the Avengers as well.

By now, everyone important would know he was taken against his will, and being found wasn’t a maybe, it was a guarantee. The implants still in his body had been upgraded, which Rogers would know if he’d ever bothered to listen when Tony talked. FRIDAY and the armor could track him from longer distances than ever before. It wouldn’t take them long to find him. All he had to do was stick it out through whatever these psychopaths had in mind for the next hour or so. Rogers was a delusional moron, but he probably didn’t want Tony dead, and most of the rest of them weren’t capable of enough independent thought to do anything about it.

His only real fear was Maximoff and the damage she could do to him both physically and mentally. His best hope regarding the witch was twofold: first, that she respected Rogers, her knight in shining armor who always shielded her from the consequences of her actions, enough that she wouldn’t immediately kill Tony or turn him into a fucking vegetable; and second, even if her utter hatred of him overrode her willingness to keep him alive for Rogers’s sake, that she was just cruel and vindictive enough to want to play with her food, make him suffer before she permanently damaged him. Suffering he could do, so long as at the end of the day, he would recover and she would be in chains.

Rhodey was on his way, Vision too. And probably half a dozen government teams. The thought bolstered him, gave him enough strength to feel that he could do this. He’d survived Afghanistan, he’d survived the wormhole and the Mandarin and everything else life and this group of selfish assholes had thrown at him. He could survive this too.

Chapter Text

Steve had a plan, or at least part of one. The only major variable was Tony, as always seemed to be the case. How he reacted during the next few conversations and then the time after that would determine the future for Steve and his team. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but they hadn’t been in an ideal situation in months. Clearly, leaving Tony on his own to get over his hurt feelings and understand where he went wrong wasn’t working, so Steve needed to take more direct action.

He was a bit rusty when it came to dealing with Tony, after all those months away. If he’d known they were going to run into Tony out there, that any of this was going to happen, he’d have planned it out better. It would have gone differently. He’d never have purposely let what happened happen; now it was going to be a lot harder to overcome these new obstacles and get to the more important topics.

Dealing with Tony was like having a toddler in a lot of ways, Steve thought to himself as he watched his reflection. Tony needed to be pleased, to feel like he was in control of a situation, and if you upset him right off the bat, you’d never get anywhere with him. Steve chastised himself internally after thinking it—that kind of thinking was exactly the sort of thing that would send Tony into a fit, and though he could be immature at the best of times, no one could say Tony wasn’t perceptive. He always seemed to know exactly what Steve was thinking, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, and more often than not Tony interpreted those thoughts badly and then reacted with hostility.

It was just so difficult to have a simple conversation with him. Everything had to have ten different meanings. Tony always found a way to misinterpret what Steve said, while Steve had to wonder what ulterior motives were behind anything Tony was doing. Tony constantly complained about Steve’s attempts to give him opportunities to open up, as though taking steps toward avoiding another disaster like Ultron was an invasion into Tony’s privacy. Tony treated every one of their conversations like a battle, and more often than he liked to admit, Steve walked away feeling like he’d lost.

Tony had never gotten along with Wanda. He’d never been willing to sit down and talk with her like the adult he claimed to be. The one time Steve had really tried to get Tony to talk to him about the problems he had with her, Tony had told him that she’d never apologized for getting into his head—which he seemed to consider some incredible invasion, somehow more important and more terrible than what she’d done to the rest of them at the time—and then said it was because she didn’t want to apologize, as though he could just condemn her character on an assumption like that, without even talking to her about it. When Steve had pointed out in return that Tony had never apologized for getting her parents killed, his face had gone blank and he’d just gotten up and walked out of the room. Steve could do nothing but sigh at his refusal to recognize his own faults and regretfully tell Wanda that it looked like Tony wouldn’t be taking steps to mend bridges between them.

That conversation had colored everything involving Wanda and Tony, and Steve knew it. Any time she was involved, Steve couldn’t help but see the worst in Tony’s reactions, his actions, his decisions. It was the reason he knew he was starting at a disadvantage when it came to Tony now. Steve could admit that things had gone wrong at that base, with Wanda. In the best of circumstances, he wouldn’t have let her take Tony over like that. He hadn’t been hurt, and they’d gotten him somewhere safe, but Steve knew Tony wouldn’t see it that way. His refusal to talk to Steve, or even look at him, was just the beginning of his anger, Steve was sure.

It was going to take some work to get over that before Steve could start approaching the topic of getting them home or getting Bucky help, and that frustrated him. He didn’t know how much time he would have before they’d need to move again, to keep Tony’s people from finding them before Steve could do what he needed to with Tony.

It was possible he’d need to get Wanda involved directly, though he was loath to do that. She was still so young, and she was convinced that she’d done nothing wrong, that she’d done what she needed to in the moment to protect her team. She was right about that, even if it wasn’t the best situation, and Steve didn’t want to go back on his word to her by asking her to apologize to Tony without expecting anything in return, just to soothe Tony’s pride. It was the same reason he hadn’t tried harder to get Tony and Wanda to make up back when they’d been on the same team. Tony was clearly unwilling to take the first step, and Steve wouldn’t force Wanda to do it, not when she was the younger, the newer, and the one who’d suffered more.

But it might be necessary now. If he needed to, he could explain the circumstances; Wanda would understand. If it was a step towards bringing them home, he knew they’d all be willing to kiss up to Tony a bit. The first problem they had to face was helping Tony get over his anger enough to remember how much better they were together, how much he needed them all.

That would be a tricky subject to broach, and Steve was still contemplating how exactly to do it. Bringing up the fact that Rhodes and Vision were hardly a large enough team could be interpreted as an insult to them, not to mention it could seem like Steve was rubbing it in Tony’s face that most of the Avengers had followed him to Wakanda. The last thing he needed to do was to highlight the divide between them, make Tony feel like it was them versus him.

The subject he was looking forward to both least and most was Siberia. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk about it at all, but he knew it was necessary. He’d never received any kind of response to his letter and the phone whose twin he’d sent to Tony had never so much as beeped. He knew Tony had read his letter—he was too curious a person not to—but he had no idea what Tony had thought of it. He’d already given his apology, but he’d probably need to give another just for Tony to be willing to talk about it at all.

They’d both made mistakes, he could admit that. But he would never regret defending Bucky, and his worst fear in this situation was that that was the only thing that would appease Tony. That Tony would only be happy if Steve said he wished he’d have done things differently in Siberia. All he could hope for was that Tony now had enough distance from the incident to understand how wrong his own reaction was. To understand where Steve was coming from and why he wouldn’t regret defending the innocent man in that scenario. Steve needed to make sure that was the case; he wouldn’t feel safe around the topic of Bucky until he was sure Tony wasn’t going to come after him again.

If he stayed in the bathroom overthinking it, he could go through a thousand scenarios in his head and never reach any real solutions. The only thing to do was to actually go and face the problem, so with another deep breath and nod to his reflection, he emerged, trying to project confidence to the others.

Wanda and Nat were sharing the bed in the first room, Nat sitting against the headboard and Wanda near the end, where she had a view of Tony in the next room. Sam was sitting on the side of the sagging stand that held the old-fashioned tube television, and Clint was in the corner, arms crossed and scowling in no particular direction. He sent a menacing look at Steve, but didn’t say anything, and Steve ignored him as he walked over to the other room, pulling the dividing door mostly closed behind him.

“Hey, so, we need to talk, Tony.” He tried to say it gently, to coax Tony out of his defensive position. Tony had barely moved, only scooted slightly back on the bed so he wasn’t perched so precariously on the edge. His arms were crossed and his eyes were closed; Steve almost would have thought he’d fallen asleep sitting up, but he had a white-knuckled grip on his own arms and Steve could see his fingers tighten when he heard Steve’s voice.

He didn’t say anything, however, and Steve resisted the urge to sigh as he moved closer. Maybe it was a good thing that Tony was staying silent rather than immediately spitting insults. At least Steve would be able to get a word in. Remembering all of his careful planning and thinking about this moment, Steve decided that leading with an apology was probably the best course.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Tony’s fingers tightened on his arms again and Steve could see that his eyes had opened, looking at the wall across from them instead of at Steve. Still, at least he was paying attention. “Listen, I’m sorry about how this happened,” Steve started. “Wanda was just trying to protect us, but it shouldn’t have happened like that.” He paused, hoping for a response from Tony, but he didn’t get one. “Are you okay?”

Again, Tony ignored the direct question. Steve couldn’t help but sigh aloud. “I get it, Tony, you’re angry. But this is the first chance we’ve had in months to talk. I—there’s a lot of things we need to talk about. Both of us. I want to get past this, Tony, I really do. Not just for me, but for you, too. For everyone.”

That sounded a little too much like an accusation and Steve knew it. He was already deviating from his plan, but Tony’s silence was unnerving. Without a measure of how Tony was taking anything, he didn’t know if what he was saying was getting through or not. He took a deep breath and forced the tension in his shoulders down. Getting angry wouldn’t help things.

“Come on, Tony, please talk to me. I don’t know how else to tell you I’m sorry. I know you got my letter.”

That finally got a response, even if it wasn’t what he hoped for. Tony turned his head most of the way toward Steve, glaring daggers at the air several inches to the right of Steve’s face and removing his hands from his own arms so he could ball them into fists and cross them even tighter over his chest. He still didn’t say anything, but the message was clear enough.

Steve ground his teeth, unable to stop the flare of anger. “I told you I was sorry for not telling you about your parents, Tony. Don’t expect me to apologize for defending Bucky. You had no right to attack him. And you have to understand, now, why I didn’t tell you sooner. How could I, when you reacted like you did? Bucky didn’t do those things. HYDRA did. But you still attacked him, even though he’s their victim.”

He desperately needed some part of that to get through to Tony, but Tony still said nothing. Worse, his gaze had moved further from Steve, eyes glazed over like he wasn’t even listening. Something hot and sharp flashed through Steve at that, and he reached forward, grabbing onto Tony’s arm. “Are you even listening to me?”

Tony took in a short breath, almost like a gasp, and flinched away from the contact. Steve let go instinctively, surprised by the out of proportion reaction. He frowned, opening his mouth to ask what the hell that was about, but a voice in the doorway to the other room interrupted him. “Steve.”

It was Clint, standing in the door with his arms crossed, looking between Steve and Tony suspiciously. Steve sat back, only then realizing that he’d been leaning into Tony’s space, and then stood when Clint moved into the room.

Steve could hear low, murmuring voices from the other room, and when he stood and looked past Clint, he saw that Nat was talking to Wanda, both of them turned toward each other on the bed. Sam was standing to the side of the bed, watching their conversation with interest. Clint pushed the door closed behind him, cutting off Steve’s view of the others, and then stood there glaring yet again.

“Is something happening?” Steve asked, irritated at the interruption.

“Maybe I should be asking you that.” Clint said with a significant look at Tony.

Steve glanced over to where Tony remained on the bed. His hands were back on his arms in a white-knuckled grip, but other than that, he hadn’t reacted to Clint’s presence.

“We were just talking,” Steve said. It came out more defensive than he’d meant it, and Clint’s eyes narrowed even more.

“Talking. Right. Because usually when two people ‘talk,’ only one of them is actually making any sound, and they’re also grabbing the other person.”

Steve was taken aback at the vehemence in his voice, and something squirmed in his gut. Was that really what it had looked like? “I wasn’t hurting him. He’s the one refusing to talk to me.”

Clint shook his head, staring at Tony for a long moment before looking back to Steve. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“What do you mean?”

Clint’s jaw worked for a moment before he gestured with his head, stepping past Steve into the tiny bathroom. Steve followed him with a frown, thoroughly confused.

When they were both crammed inside the bathroom, Clint pulled the door mostly shut. Steve had his back to it, but he trusted that Clint was keeping an eye on Tony. He certainly seemed to be jumping to his defense suddenly, anyway.

There was a moment of silence, but Clint broke it before Steve could. “How long have you known Tony, Steve? When has he ever been so silent?”

Clint waited, but Steve didn’t have an answer to that. Tony talked when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was stressed. He talked in the middle of life-or-death battles. The only comparable situation to this that Steve could think of was Siberia, but… Clint didn’t know about that, and Steve didn’t need to bring it up now. Clearly Clint had a point he wanted to get to.

“Something’s wrong with him,” Clint said, eyes on Tony through the partially open door, Steve was sure.

“Like what?”

Clint gave him a look that Steve was used to seeing on Tony’s face, a look that said Clint wasn’t sure whether Steve was intentionally messing with him or was just an idiot. “What do you think?”

Steve crossed his arms, putting together the pieces—Clint’s discomfort earlier, the looks he’d been giving Wanda, his sudden defensive attitude toward Tony. “Wanda was trying to protect us, Clint. She didn’t hurt him. Maybe it wasn’t the best situation, but—”

“Shh,” Clint hissed, eyes flicking to the door again. In a furious whisper, he said, “Don’t delude yourself, Steve. She’d have taken any opportunity to do it and you know it. She hates him and she wouldn’t stop screwing with him just because you said so.”

Steve shook his head. He didn’t know where this was coming from; Clint had always gotten along well with Wanda. He’d treated her like a daughter, and now he was acting like he was afraid of her, like he thought she was unhinged. “Come on, Clint, you know Wanda. She wouldn’t do that.”

Clint gave him another of those looks reminiscent of Tony. “Wouldn’t she? What I know is that she’s never said a single good thing about Tony as long as I’ve known her. She fought on our side, yeah, but she’s always hated Tony. It didn’t matter when we were in Wakanda and it was just bullshitting, but now that she can really get her hands on him? Mess around in his head? Man… I’m afraid for Tony, Steve, and you know what? I’m even more afraid that you’re not.”

Steve shifted, intensely uncomfortable with that statement. “We’re his friends, Clint. We wouldn’t hurt him. Wanda wouldn’t—none of us would.”

“Look at him, Steve!” Clint said, voice rising a bit. He reached across Steve to shove the bathroom door open, and Steve turned to take in the sight of Tony on the bed, hunched over and curled in on himself, not reacting to their fervently whispered conversation or the creak of the bathroom door. The squirming feeling in Steve’s gut intensified. “Does that look like someone who’s with friends?” Clint continued. “Even if she isn’t screwing with his head, what are we doing? Holding him here against his will until he agrees with us? We just kidnapped a man, we put him in danger and we took him. The world is after us now, and we knew that going in, but we didn’t stop to think that maybe they had good reason. Don’t you understand how this looks? What this is?”

Steve didn’t know what to say. When Clint put it like that, it sounded awful, but was that really what they were doing? They were still Tony’s friends. This was Steve’s chance to talk to him, and he couldn’t let it go to waste. He shook his head. He needed to focus, to come up with a plan and deal with Clint’s sudden anxiety on top of what was going on with Tony. “Have you asked Wanda about this?” he said, deflecting.

Clint looked exasperated. “What good would it do? Why would she admit she was screwing with him?”

“Wanda wouldn’t lie to us.”

That earned him another glare. “She’s not incapable of lying, Steve. None of us are.” Steve couldn’t help but wince a little at the unintentional reminder of Siberia. “Look, I get that you want to protect her.” Clint continued. “So did I, when it was random people out for her blood for things she couldn’t control. But this? This is scary.”

“I understand your history with Loki, Clint, but this isn’t the same,” Steve said, trying to be soothing. This sudden outburst, anxiety about Wanda’s powers where he’d never shown any before, was worrying.

“Isn’t it?”

That stopped Steve short. “What?”

“How is it different?” Clint said. Steve just blinked at him, needing to process that he’d even asked that question.

“How is what different?” Came a voice from behind them.

Clint jumped and turned at the same time Steve shifted to see around him. Wanda was standing in the middle of Tony’s room, arms crossed and watching them with suspicion.

Steve looked at Clint, but he said nothing, evidently expecting Steve to address his sudden issues. Steve sighed and looked to Wanda. “Wanda, are you doing anything to Tony? Right now?”

He tried to ask it gently, but her expression closed off as soon as he said it, and the twisted feeling in his gut only intensified. He didn’t want to upset her or sound like he was accusing her, but this was the only way to assuage Clint’s worries. She sent an accusing glance at Clint before looking back to Steve. “Like what?” she asked.

“Anything at all?” Steve pressed, and when she didn’t answer, “Wanda, I told you to let him go.” He didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but from the way Wanda scowled, he knew she’d taken it as one.

“You said to keep him under control. That’s what I’m doing. You said you wanted to talk to him, so talk. He’ll listen.” Steve had to stop for a moment, shocked at her answer. So she was really still influencing Tony?

“I said we could keep him under control, Wanda,” Steve explained, and he didn’t miss the angry look Clint threw at him. Both of them were now glaring at him. This was all going wrong. “You need—”

He was cut off by a rumble. The sound grew louder and louder, and the entire building began to shake. Natasha came running into the room just as the rumble cut off and there was the loud, dull sound of an impact somewhere outside. “What’s going on?” She was looking at Wanda, but Wanda looked just as confused, and then there was a shout from the other room.

Natasha dashed through the doorway and into the other room. Wanda was right on her heels, red already encircling her hands, just as Sam shouted from the other side. “Guys, we’ve got a problem! War Machine is outside!”

“How did he find us so fast?” Steve asked, but instead of an answer, several things happened all at once.

Wanda let out an angry yell. There was a percussive thump to the air and then another sound outside, something that sounded mechanical. Nat and Sam both exclaimed from the other room, but Steve couldn’t hear what they said, because in the same moment, Tony fell from the bed where he’d been sitting, clutching his head and screaming.

Chapter Text

Steve was frozen, not sure who to go to first. Sam and Nat had continued to yell in the other room, but whatever they were saying was drowned out by Tony’s screams. Steve had never heard him make a sound like that before. After a moment’s pause, he decided it was bad enough that he knew he needed to go to Tony first, figure out what was going on with him.

Clint got there first; by the time Steve had moved, Clint was kneeling on the floor next to Tony, trying to pull his arms away from his face as Tony clawed at his own eyes and twitched on the floor. He almost looked like he was having a seizure, except for the screaming.

As Steve approached, there was another booming sound from outside and Wanda let out another yell. The rooms were in chaos; Sam and Nat both had weapons out and pointing at the two doors, Wanda was yelling and Tony was screaming. Clint turned furious eyes on Steve a moment later, still struggling to contain Tony’s thrashing. “Make her stop!” he yelled.

Steve hesitated for just a moment, some part of his mind still unwilling to accept that Wanda was doing this to Tony, but he forced himself to move anyway, stepping swiftly into the other room where Wanda was standing.

She looked wild, red swirling around her hands and up around her body as well, her hair flying out as if carried on the wind. Her eyes were wide and she looked livid. “That bastard,” she announced when Steve approached, “he called his stupid friend! I told you he would wreck everything! I told you!”

“Wanda, are you hurting Tony?” Steve still couldn’t believe it.

“He deserves it!” she yelled, eyes blazing red with her powers, and Steve actually took a step back at the uncontrolled fury she was displaying. “He’s ruined everything, that’s all he does, and now his little minions are here for us!”

Natasha, flanking the door to the first room with Sam, threw Wanda a look. Tony was still screaming from the other room. “I thought your shields could keep them from finding us?” Nat said, and no one could mistake the anger in her voice.

“I was busy—too busy keeping Stark under control, because none of you would do it!” Wanda yelled.

“And you did a great job with that!” Sam said. Steve opened his mouth to tell him this wasn’t the time, that they should be focusing on the problem at hand, when the door was blasted off its hinges.

Nat and Sam were forced to jump back, guns up and at the ready. War Machine came into the room, arms up and repulsors glowing, weapons ready and sticking out of the suit’s arms. He wasn’t coming to talk.

Wanda screamed and moved forward, her powers surging toward Rhodes, but they never reached him. Faster than Steve could warn her, Vision phased through the wall behind her, coming up out of her sight with his hands raised. The look on his face was the most emotion Steve had ever seen out of the android: anger, disappointment, disgust.

Vision put his glowing hands up to Wanda’s head from behind, and the red mist of her powers dissipated before it could hit Rhodes. She screamed again and tried to twist around, but something Vision was doing must have stopped her, because she could do nothing but writhe in place as Vision held her still, her powers sparking ineffectively.

Rhodes stomped forward in his armor, a compartment opening on one of the arms. He pulled something out and reached forward, and Steve realized too late what it was—another collar, like that awful thing she’d had on in the Raft to block her powers. Wanda screamed even louder and twitched desperately as Rhodes closed in on her, but she couldn’t stop him. Though he knew it was unlikely with everything else that was happening, Steve felt like he could hear the click of the collar even over all the noise in the room.

Steve stepped back when Vision and Rhodes let Wanda go, apparently dismissing her once her powers were contained. It had only been seconds since Rhodes had come in. Steve couldn’t think, couldn’t come up with a plan in the heat of the moment, but he needed to get to Tony. He backed toward the doorway quickly, keeping his eyes on Rhodes and Vision as they turned from Wanda to focus on everyone else.

Nat and Sam raised their guns as Vision turned to them. Steve had no idea how they could hope to win against him, but he was focused on getting back to Tony. He slipped through the doorway between rooms and to Tony’s side, hoping to make it before Rhodes came after him.

Steve noted, even through the chaos, that Tony had stopped screaming. Clint was standing, blocking Steve’s view of Tony, and Steve ached to catch a glimpse of him. He wanted to move, to try to see Tony around Clint, but before he could do it, there was a whir from behind him and then Rhodes’s voice came, mechanically distorted. “Give it up!”

Before Steve could say or do anything, Clint took a step away from Tony and put his hands up, sinking to his knees. “I surrender,” he said, and his voice was hoarse.

The War Machine armor turned to Steve immediately, dismissing Clint. The repulsors were active, missiles out and pointing at Steve. Would Rhodes really use them, would he really kill Steve? How far would he go for his best friend? How far did you go for yours? That small voice in his head asked in the moment of silence and stillness between them.

He didn’t have any time to contemplate it further. There was another percussive thump to the air, then a strange vibration, like an energy was moving through the entire room. Steve found his gaze drawn past Rhodes, into the other room. He could just barely see Vision, standing with his arms outstretched. Just as Steve looked, there was a pulsation to the air around Vision. It reached Steve an instant after he saw it, rushing toward him and over him like a tidal wave, and he was thrown back, impacting the wall with more force than he’d expected.

His world went black.

When Steve woke, it was in a rush. Memory came back almost instantly and Steve jerked upright, letting out a yell—or he tried to. He was only able to move a few inches before he was stopped, and only when he tried to let out a sound did he realize that he was gagged.

He opened his eyes to see the dirty motel carpet in front of his face. He was facedown on the floor, and when he shifted, testing his limbs, he found that he was thoroughly chained. His wrists and ankles were both cuffed together. When he tested the strength of the bonds, he found them unyielding—designed to stand up even to a super soldier, then. Damn.

The gag over his mouth was unfamiliar, and it was more complicated than a simple cloth or tape. He couldn’t see it, but it felt like metal, and it pressed into his face all the way across his jaw, from ear to ear. He could probably make a muffled sound in his throat, but he couldn’t even open his mouth to attempt a word.

He looked to one side, seeing the bottom of one of the motel beds. There was nothing to look at except the carpet underneath the bed and its collection of dust and forgotten trash. When he turned his head to the other side, however, he jerked in surprise.

He was on the floor next to Natasha and Sam. They were both chained and gagged just like him, and now Steve could see the heavy cuffs that he no doubt wore as well, the reinforced chains between them. The gags on both his companions’ mouths were reminiscent of the one Loki wore when they’d last seen him depart with Thor after the failed invasion.

He shifted his focus to Natasha and Sam themselves, looking them over as much as he could from his position on the floor. Neither of them looked hurt, no visible wounds that he could see, but they were both still unconscious. They’d probably been knocked out by whatever it was Vision had done, same as Steve.

Knocked out and chained up while they were unconscious. Gagged as well. All of this seemed so dramatic, so unnecessary. And where were Wanda and Clint? Steve remembered how Rhodes had looked, faceplate firmly down on his armor the entire time, weapons out and at the ready. He’d been ready to kill them. What if Wanda and Clint were already dead?

It was then that Steve became aware of the low murmur of voices from the other room. He tried to twist in his bonds and look into the other room, but though he could just see the doorway if he craned his neck, he couldn’t see anyone in the other room. He settled back to the floor instead and strained to listen in, recognizing Rhodes’s voice after a moment.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you.” The words and the tone were soothing, almost exaggeratedly so, like Rhodes was trying to approach a wild animal. Steve had a sinking feeling that he knew who the frightened animal in that scenario was.

Sure enough, after another moment’s pause, he heard Tony’s voice. It was fast-paced, more frantic than Steve had ever heard it, and he tripped over his words as he spoke like he couldn’t get them out fast enough. “Mom? Don’t hurt—she isn’t—you can take it, just go—Ah!” Tony yelped and Steve couldn’t help but wince at the sound, wondering if this was about what Tony had seen in Siberia. “No, they’re—I have to—”

Tony’s voice trailed off into mutters that Steve couldn’t make out. There was a rustling sound, and then Rhodes’s voice again, shushing Tony gently. “It’s fine, Tony. You’re okay.”

“Rhodey?” Tony said, and then there was a change. Suddenly some of the rushed, unsure quality of his voice disappeared. In its place was a thread of suspicion. “You’re not—she’s screwing with me.”

“It’s me, Tony,” Rhodes said. There was a patient, melancholic air to the words that made Steve think it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “We got Wanda. She’s back in the collar. Whatever she did to you, it’s over. I’m really here.” That answered one of Steve’s questions. He hated the thought of her in that collar, but he still couldn’t believe that she’d attacked Tony like that. He was reeling and didn’t know how to feel about it. At least she wasn’t dead.

“Rhodey…” Tony said, but the suspicion was still there. “Winter semester second year, when we took that astrophysics class together, and I hated that stupid professor. You remember it? He was an ass. What was his name?”

Steve was confused at the apparent non-sequitur, wondering if Tony was lost in another memory, but Rhodes answered cautiously, “That was fluid dynamics, Tones. Dr. Hendrose. You said he hated you because you disproved his theory on microcirculation, but I told you it was because of what we did to his lab during that coolant experiment.”

“Yeah…” Tony breathed, and then, “Rhodey.” The suspicion was gone from his voice, but the undercurrent of fear and anxiety was still there. There was a long moment of quiet, and then Tony said something, muffled so that Steve couldn’t hear. Rhodes murmured something back, again too quiet for Steve’s ears, and then Tony’s voice became clearer again.

“She was making me see things, feel them… real stuff, but then not real… but it felt so real, Rhodey, god, I hit you, I hit you and you went down and you bled out right in front of me, I couldn’t do anything to stop it and it was my fault and it was so real…”

“Hey, you’re fine, I’m okay, see? I’m right here. It wasn’t real.” Rhodes said.

“I couldn’t know that,” Tony said, and even Steve could hear how earnest it was, the plea for Rhodes to understand what he was saying. “She was in my head, in my memories… anything could be fake. Except for things I didn’t remember. Something from the past, something she’d never know, but you would… something I didn’t even remember, but I’d know the truth when I heard it. I didn’t remember Dr. Hendrose’s name until you said it.”

There was pride now in Rhodes’s voice. “You outsmarted her.”

“I was just trying to survive,” Tony said, and that simple sentence really drove a spike into Steve’s heart. While Steve had been thinking of the future, of the Avengers and Bucky and coming home, Tony had been thinking of survival. He’d felt there was a real possibility that he wouldn’t live through this.

“You outsmarted her,” Rhodes repeated more firmly. “Against all of them, against her, you did what you could. You still beat her. You did great, Tony.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, but he didn’t sound convinced. Rhodes didn’t push it, however, instead letting another silence hang. “I’m tired,” Tony eventually said.

“I know,” Rhodes said, soft and gentle. “We’ll get you out of here soon, okay? We need to take care of a few things first. Just rest here for now, you’re safe.”

There was another long silence, during which Steve fidgeted. It was anything but comfortable to be stuck prone on the floor, unable to move or speak. Natasha and Sam still hadn’t regained consciousness; he tried scooting over to bump into Nat, hoping she might wake, but she didn’t react.

After a few minutes, there was a distressed noise from the other room and then Rhodes trying to soothe Tony again. Steve wished he could see into the room, wanted to be able to go and try to comfort Tony—but he was starting to realize that his presence might have the opposite effect after recent events.

“Yinsen?” Tony said. Steve felt like he ought to recognize the name, but he couldn’t place it. There was a moan from the other room. “No, don’t—don’t touch it, don’t hurt him, I can’t—I’ll die without it, don’t get it wet, don’t touch it.” Rhodes said something Steve couldn’t make out, but it didn’t seem to help. Tony’s voice was rising. “I won’t build it, I w—no, it’s gone, where—what—I need it, I need it, please, don’t—I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

Tony devolved into breathless whimpers and the occasional pained noise. There were sounds from the other room like Rhodes was struggling with him, and then finally a sharp, “Hey!” Look at me!” in Rhodes’s voice. The rustling stopped. “The reactor’s gone, Tony. You got it removed, remember? You’re not there. We got you out. I found you.”

“Rhodey?” Tony said, and unlike the last time, it was painfully unsure. “Rhodey… in the other—they were shooting, it exploded, Rhodey—if they killed him—what do I—”

“I’m right here,” Rhodes said again, interrupting the rapid muttering. Tony did stop talking for a moment; Steve’s enhanced hearing could pick up his fast, heavy breaths. He was going to hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness, Steve thought.

“No,” Tony said after a moment, like he’d reached some conclusion. “No, this isn’t—Rhodey’s not here, he’s gone, I killed him. I killed everyone. No, no, no, you’re screwing with me, this isn’t real, it’s not—”

There were a few more panicked breaths from the other room and then they stopped. Steve felt like his heart stopped along with them, but there was a sigh from Rhodes. “Okay,” he said, and he didn’t sound concerned, which helped calm Steve’s racing heart. Surely he’d be worried if anything was actually wrong with Tony.

A knock interrupted Steve’s thoughts, and then he heard the door to the other room open. “Is he okay?” That was Vision’s voice.

Rhodes sighed again. “Yeah. Just passed out again.” So Steve was right, before.

“Another attack?” Vision sounded concerned.

“Yeah, but he’s been more lucid, and for longer. He knew it was me this time, for sure. He told me how he figured it out, how he beat her illusions.”

“Then it sounds like he is getting better.”

“I’d still like to see more improvement before they drag her off. That or at least let an expert examine him.” Rhodes sighed again. “This is all a mess. How’s it going out there?”

“The Council has been made aware of the situation,” Vision replied. “There were already questions of where they will be going after this. Sokovian representatives have already put forth requests that she be handed over to them, while the Council wants more of a guarantee that the collar will hold. Germany and Romania both voiced their desire to have Mr. Rogers in their courts. The Russians were getting involved when I had to leave the call.”

Steve’s heart was pounding hearing all of this. As he lay there bound and gagged, unable to say a word in his defense, some government paper-pushers were deciding his fate. He felt a swell of helpless frustration at the entire situation. This was exactly what he’d been fighting against when he refused to go along with the Accords.

“Let them handle all that,” Rhodes said. “Do they still want you accompanying the transfer?”

“Yes. They asked for you as well, but I told them you would not be available.”

“Thank you.” There was relief in Rhodes’s voice. “Even if he’s better by the time we leave, I just… I don’t want to leave him alone. Not after that.” There was a shaky exhale.

“The first truck is almost ready to depart. I will bring the others,” Vision said.

“Sounds good. I’ll let you know when we’ve got the green light on transporting Maximoff. Keep in contact during the transfer. I’ll give the next update to the Council.”

There was a pause. “You are certain he will be all right?” Vision asked hesitantly.

Rhodes let out another shaky breath. “If you’re talking about the next few minutes, yeah, he’ll be waking up soon. The next few hours, I’m hoping this’ll continue and he’ll keep getting better, eventually be all here. The physical damage will heal, but… long-term? Psychologically? …I have no clue, Vision, and that scares the shit out of me. I mean, I’d like to say that he’d damn well better be okay, or I’ll kick his ass. Or rather, go and gut the witch.”

There was a pause, then, “Shit, I’m sorry. I know you and her…”

“There is no need to be sorry,” Vision said solemnly. “I once harbored feelings for Ms. Maximoff, yes, but after seeing what she has done here, I am no longer conflicted as I once might have been.”

“It’s not just that,” Rhodes insisted, “you have every right to still be a little confused. I trust that you’ll do your job anyway. Will you… be okay doing this?”

“I believe I will. And I would not ask you to leave Tony in these circumstances.”

Nothing more was said. Just as Steve was thinking of craning his neck to try and see into the other room again, there was a shift in the air around him. He was able to turn enough to see Vision’s legs. Without a word, Vision was bending down, grabbing the backs of Steve’s arms to haul him up.

It was an unsettling feeling to be manhandled, not something he was used to since the serum. With his hands and legs still tied, he felt off-balance and uncomfortably dependent on Vision for support. He wanted to say something, but the gag prevented anything but the quietest grunt from escaping him.

There was a moment’s pause as a low groan sounded from the other room—Tony. Then came Rhodes’s voice. “Hey, you waking up?” Steve wanted to stay still, listen in again, but he was being moved once more.

He was turned and got a momentary glimpse of Vision’s face, and he recoiled from what he saw there. It was the same expression he’d worn when he’d come up behind Wanda to block her powers and prevent her from attacking Rhodes. Anger, disgust. There was no hint of friendliness, of any shared history between them.

Before he could look for anything further in Vision’s expression, Steve was lifted and bent over Vision’s shoulder. It didn’t matter that Vision was clearly strong enough to handle his weight without difficulty—he still felt unbalanced, awkward, and strangely humiliated. It was a struggle to keep his head lifted and try to examine his surroundings when Vision began moving and he was jostled.

They moved through the other room quickly, but when Vision stopped to open the door, Steve finally got a glimpse of Rhodes and Tony where they were seated on the bed.

Steve felt like he’d been doused in ice water. From what he’d heard, he’d expected that Tony wasn’t doing too well after whatever Wanda did to him, but somehow he just hadn’t expected to see physical evidence of it.

Tony was awake again, though he seemed groggy, blinking rapidly and shifting where Rhodes was holding him in his arms. When Steve caught a glimpse of his eyes, he could see that they were wild, anxious, wet. But the most striking sight were the marks.

There were bloody trails etched across Tony’s face, splayed over his cheeks and running outward from his eyes like some kind of macabre art piece or terrifying mask. Some of the marks were darker, the blood dried, and some were bright red and still sending smaller rivulets downward, pulled by gravity into drawing new lines over Tony’s pale skin. For a moment, it almost looked like he’d cried tears of blood and left trails across his face, but then Steve saw the same marks on his arms, the bloody tips of his fingers, and understood.

Tony had gouged those marks into his own skin. Caught in whatever nightmares Wanda had forced on him, he’d dug his nails into his flesh so hard that he’d torn it apart, too disturbed by whatever he was seeing to feel the pain he must have been inflicting on himself. Seeing how close some of the marks were to his eyes, imagining how delicate the skin of the eyelids was… Steve shuddered involuntarily, knowing Tony was incredibly lucky that he hadn’t scratched his own eyes out. The mental image of Tony, with deep, hideous scars left across his face where the marks were now and permanently blinded by his own hands, crept into Steve’s mind and wouldn’t let him go.

Realistically, he knew that even without a super soldier’s healing factor, those marks would heal fairly well, but the sight of them was so viscerally disturbing that despite his previous desire to catch a glimpse of Tony, Steve was glad when the door was opened and Vision took him out of the room. Once they’d emerged into the fading daylight, Steve realized that even when Vision was taking him through the room, neither Tony nor Rhodes had looked up at him.

Outside the motel, Steve saw that there were several dark, armored trucks waiting. Teams of people in tactical gear were surrounding the area. When Vision walked past where two of the trucks had been parked close together, Steve caught sight of what was happening in the space between them and could only stare in shock.

Wanda was unconscious and in the grip of two soldiers, or agents, police, whatever they were. They were holding her up by the arms while she dangled limply between them. Her hands were behind her back, no doubt cuffed like Steve’s, and he could see the collar on her neck and additional chains around her legs. She was gagged like Steve, Sam, and Natasha.

Though that alone would have been enough to bother Steve, it wasn’t what shocked him. The agents holding her up were holding her in place around some strange metal contraption that looked vaguely like a chair. Two more agents were winding some sort of complicated black cords around the metal frame and then Wanda’s arms. Surrounding the scene were at least four more men, each pointing a gun at Wanda.

It all seemed so over the top, so incredibly unnecessary. Did none of them see how ridiculous it looked, how—how evil, that these armed and armored soldiers were surrounding one young girl, pointing guns at her while they tied her up, collared and caged her like an animal, even while she was unconscious?

The small voice in his head, the one that had been speaking up more and more since this whole thing with Tony had started, asked him whether they were justified in their reaction to Wanda. After seeing what she’d done to Tony, he could almost understand their fear of her… but he just couldn’t reconcile that with the image of the sweet girl he’d come to know. How could she have done that to Tony? And if she’d been harboring that kind of rage all along… how could Steve have been so wrong about her?

He pulled at his bonds at the sight of what was happening to Wanda, wishing that he could communicate with Vision, but his wriggling was ignored. He was carried on, Wanda passing out of his sight, and brought to another of the waiting vehicles. Vision hauled him up into the back and set him down onto one of the bench seats. With his hands cuffed behind his back, it was uncomfortable to say the least, but an agent inside the truck immediately moved forward and began pulling straps down and over Steve’s chest, tightening them almost to the point of pain without hesitation.

When Vision stepped back and the agent moved, Steve was able to look around the inside of the truck. Clint was sitting across from him, and the relief Steve felt at seeing him evaporated when he saw the look Clint was aiming at him. Vision turned without a word, disappearing around the side of the truck, and the agent that had strapped Steve in hopped out of the back to stand a few feet away.

Clint shifted in his seat and opened his mouth. Unlike Steve, he wasn’t gagged, and his hands were cuffed in front of him rather than behind his back. His ankles were unbound. With his eyes fixed on a point over Steve’s left shoulder, Clint quietly spoke up.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. Steve desperately wanted the gag off, wanted to be able to talk to Clint, but he wasn’t sure what he would say to that. Remembering the image of Tony inside, he realized that Clint, on the floor with him when Rhodes showed up, probably saw that happen right in front of him.

Clint shook his head, still refusing to make eye contact. “You aren’t the hero I thought. You aren’t half the man I thought you were, if you let that happen. I told you, I tried to tell you how bad it was, how fucked up it was that you let her just use her powers on him like that. But you wouldn’t see it. You—we—crossed a line, and we crossed it way before she put him on the floor. We crossed it back in that bunker. Hell, maybe we crossed it when we decided to fight against him in the first place. Maybe you crossed it when she screwed with all of us, when you knew what she was and who she worked for, and you decided to put her on the team anyway.”

Steve tried to shake his head, wanting to deny that, to say something to defend himself and Wanda, but Clint ignored the movement. “I don’t know… I just don’t know anymore. I don’t know what’s right. All I know is that what happened today? Everything we just did? That was wrong.”

Clint looked like he had more to say, but he closed his mouth when a shadow passed the open doors of the truck and Vision returned, holding another body over his shoulder. He moved smoothly up into the back again, this time depositing Sam on the bench next to Clint. Once again, Vision left without a word, and the agent clambered into the back again to strap Sam in.

Sam was conscious, at least. Even with the situation they were in, with the gag on and Sam’s hands and feet tied like Steve’s, it was a relief to see his eyes open and looking aware. Steve tried to make eye contact, to ask without words whether Sam was okay, but as soon as Sam looked at him, his eyes dropped to the floor, his head shaking sadly. Steve felt a pang. He’d brought them into this situation, and now Sam was paying the price for his mistake.

Natasha was brought out a minute later and strapped in next to Steve. She was finally awake as well, though she seemed as subdued as Sam. Clint didn’t speak again, to any of them, not even asking whether Nat was okay. If Steve hadn’t already known from Clint’s earlier words how disturbed he was by the situation, that would have told him.

Steve didn’t know what was next. A brief moment of terror swept through him at the thought. When he was inside, listening to Rhodes and Vision talk, it sounded like the people behind the Accords were debating which prison to lock them up in. There would always be a chance for escape later, but what Steve really worried about was Bucky. Would he be safe, back in Wakanda? How long would it be before Steve could get back to him?

Once Natasha was secured, Vision stood in the doorway to the truck, staring around at all of them. His scrutiny made Steve want to squirm, though he resisted the urge. Vision was projecting such a strong air of disappointment and distaste that Steve found himself shrinking back against the seat.

“There are officers at the HYDRA base from which you kidnapped Mr. Stark now,” Vision said flatly. “They have already seized the Wakandan jet you used to come here. Teams sanctioned by the Council are going over it now.” A wave of panic washed over Steve. They knew, they knew where Steve and his team had been hiding. They could get to Bucky. His only hope was that Wakanda’s superior technology would be able to keep out whoever came after him.

Vision continued, oblivious to Steve’s panicked thoughts. “The evidence that King T’Challa was not only harboring fugitives, but aiding them in illegal activities, is now overwhelming. Had you not created an international incident by kidnapping Mr. Stark, this could have been handled more quietly, but you made that impossible. The news had gotten out before the Council could contain it, and many countries are very angry at Wakanda and its king.”

“So what now?” Clint asked.

Vision’s eyes flicked to him. “I cannot predict the far-reaching political consequences of this, nor how Wakanda will handle the situation. However, if you are asking about the fate of yourselves or your friends, I can tell you that Scott Lang has already turned himself in to the authorities, and King T’Challa has agreed to turn James Barnes over to the Council for psychological assessment before he appears before any sort of court.”

Steve jerked in his seat, the most that he could do to express his outrage at that pronouncement. He tried to yell, but all that came out was another muffled grunt. Vision ignored him. “You will all be transported to a nearby secure facility. You will be held there until more decisions are made regarding which countries will try you for your crimes and in what manner.”

Steve wished Clint would ask more about Bucky and what would happen, or about Wanda and what was going to happen to her. He also wanted to know how Tony was doing, even with what he’d heard from Rhodes inside. But Clint just kept his eyes on the floor. With one last disdainful look at all of them, Vision turned and left.

They weren’t alone for long. After no more than a few minutes of painful silence in the truck, Rhodes arrived to stand at the back and look in at all of them. Rhodes had always been serious and professional around them, but he’d never looked so deadly before. The righteous anger in his eyes burned Steve from the inside, because he recognized the look. It was the same thing he’d felt about Bucky in Siberia, even just now when he’d found out T’Challa gave him up. Steve had thought that feeling, and the reasons behind it, meant he was right, and he was doing what was best for Bucky. Except now it was Rhodes whose best friend had almost been killed, who was doing what was best for Tony.

Rhodes stood there watching them for a few moments, breathing hard, and Steve was surprised he wasn’t physically shaking with fury. “You are all the most disgusting, pathetic excuses for human beings that I’ve ever met,” he finally said. Clint flinched, his eyes trained somewhere around Rhodes’s knees. “Anyone who ever called any one of you a hero was wrong.”

Rhodes was venting, he was angry, Steve told himself. There were worse people than them out there. A few mistakes—even if they were very big mistakes, that voice in his head said—didn’t take away all the good they’d done. Still, seeing Rhodes—usually such a calm, unflappable soldier—so disturbed, and thinking about what Tony had looked like in that room, it was hard not to feel like righteous judgment was coming down on them.

Rhodes didn’t wait for any kind of a response. It seemed he was there to speak his mind, nothing else. “If I were as low a person as any of you, I’d put a bullet in every one of your heads. But you know what? I’d rather watch you rot in prison.”

There was no happiness, no vindictive glee in Rhodes’s words. He wasn’t rubbing his victory or their imprisonment in their faces. He wasn’t trying to provoke them. He was just stating facts, and that hit Steve hard.

“You’ll be closely monitored during the transfer,” Rhodes continued. “There will be eyes on you at all times, and guns as well. If any one of you tries anything, I will personally beat your ass down so hard you’ll have a hard time ever getting up again. And then, I’ll put a hole in your chest, nice and slow, so maybe, just maybe, you can feel a fraction of what you put Tony through.”

Rhodes took half a step back, putting his hands on the doors to the truck. Steve found himself grateful that his tirade was over, but he paused, making eye contact with Steve. His eyes, his voice, everything about him was cold, furious, and he left Steve with one parting remark.

“Congratulations, Rogers, you’ve sunk lower than any of us ever thought possible. It wasn’t enough to kill civilians and then run away from the consequences, or to kidnap a man. No, you stood by and happily let a Nazi torture an innocent man right in front of you.” Rhodes snarled. “HYDRA would be proud.”

And he slammed the doors in Steve’s face.