Archive of Our Own

Tony’s ears are ringing.

He can see the doctor’s mouth moving, can see the concern in his eyes.

He can see Pepper in his peripheral view, and she is crying, a hand over her mouth.

He can see the world moving all around him, can see doctors running, can see nurses and others shooting him side glances.

He can see all of this.

But he cannot hear a thing.

The last thing he knows he heard were ‘he is dead’.

There were platitudes, apologies.

Vision walks out of the room, and somehow, Tony’s eyes meet his.

He looks... sorry.

James Rhodes dies.

And something inside of Tony breaks.

At first, T’Challa has no idea who is on the other side of the line.

He had been expecting Shuri, or any of the other tribes. After the whole Killmonger debacle, there had been many apologies issued, and even though T’Challa had promised he did not blame them for their actions, they were still being overly apologetic.

But they didn’t speak English in Wakanda, unless necessary.

“Who is this?”

“Give up the Avengers,” repeats the voice on the other side. 

There is no outright threat in the voice, no actual emotion. But it’s clear that’s what it is.

A threat.

“I don’t know who you are or what you are talking about,” he said, composed as ever. “The Avengers are not here.”

If only that were true. 

T’Challa had most certainly not invited them over.

But the Captain had flown all of his comrades over, and there was no way for him to boot them out without risking Wakanda and Sergeant Barnes.

This did not mean he was going to admit anything to anyone from the west, of course.

“I am going to ask one time, King T’Challa,” the voice says, and it clicks, then. Even though he’s pretty sure the man has never called him ‘King T’Challa’ before, it’s the way he pronounces his name that tells him it’s Tony Stark on the other side. “I have no problem with Wakanda or with you. But I will do whatever necessary to get the Avengers. Give them up peacefully.”

It’s the tone, realises T’Challa, feeling strangely uncomfortable.

It’s the first time he hears Tony Stark’s voice so... flat, so devoid of the usual humour and sarcasm and mockery.

It’s the voice of a man stripped of his humanity, a man with nothing left to lose.

Even Killmonger’s voice, at the end of everything, had held more life than this, and it makes a shiver ran down T’Challa’s back.

“The Avengers are not here, Dr Stark.”

He is not sure what he expects.

Arguments, maybe. Another hidden threat. Some sort of anger.

He gets nothing of the sort.

The call ends.

As T’Challa stares at his phone, he wants to believe that Stark decided to believe him. He wants to think that Stark decided T’Challa was telling the truth and is now going to ask other people what happened, is now going to hunt the Avengers elsewhere.

But the cold remains, and T’Challa has that same feeling he’d had before the bomb had hit the building in Vienna.

Dread.

As soon as news of James Rhodes’ death hits the news, Natasha starts running.

When Clint had read her report on Tony Stark, he had believed it to be true. He had taken it at face value, trusted that Tony Stark and his character could be summarised in that single piece of paper.

Steve Rogers had done the same. He might have changed his opinion slightly, later on, but he had never outwardly challenged the report.

Sam Wilson had swallowed the information given to him by others. He had never - as far as Natasha was aware - formulated his own thoughts and opinions on the man.

In the end, everyone had assumed that the report was all that there was to Tony Stark.

That the report was the perfect Tony Stark manual.

But that... that was not the original report.

The report Clint, Steve, and even Bruce had read? That was not the original report on Tony Stark.

That was not what Natasha had written after meeting Tony Stark.

She had used words like ‘self-destructive’. She had used words like ‘compulsive behaviour’.

But she had also used words like ‘loyal to the detriment of himself and others’. She had also used words like ‘distrustful’. Words like ‘morally ambiguous’.

She had written an entire subsection dedicated to 'James Rhodes'.

Fury had asked her to change it. He had trusted her evaluation, but had claimed that it would not help them recruit Stark. It would not help them recruit others to work with Stark.

But Natasha had never forgotten her initial report.

She had never forgotten the strange fear in her throat when alone in a room with Stark.

She had never forgotten the way his eyes looked like they saw through you, through everything that you had carefully hidden.

When she had stabbed him with that needle, she had never forgotten the way he had looked at her after.

The way he had stared at her, even as he spoke and argued with Fury.

She had seen the caged beast behind those eyes, and she had heard it, over the comms, when he had feared for Rhodes’ safety at the Expo.

She had seen the same hungry animal in James Rhodes’ eyes the few times she had been in Afghanistan without SHIELD agents, looking for Stark himself.

Rhodes would kill for Stark.

Stark? Stark would burn the world for Rhodes.

She had made the wrong choice at the airport.

She had made the wrong choice when she had let Steve go, and she had made the wrong choice when she had taunted Stark after that.

She had made the wrong choice when she hadn’t stopped Steve from the beginning.

But she knew the right choice now. She knew what she needed to do now.

But despite herself, despite knowing better, Natasha underestimated Stark too.

The prick on her neck as she got into the car, and Stark’s perfume before everything went dark clearly showed that.

She can't see him, as her vision goes dark.

The chill returns.

Steve misses America.

It’s not like T’Challa isn’t being a kind host. It’s not like he is not happy to be with Bucky.

It’s the opposite, really. Even though it is clear not everyone is happy with them being in Wakanda, everyone is being very civil and respectful, more so than most people back in the US.

But that doesn’t mean Steve isn’t very aware of the fact that he is in a prison. A beautiful prison, with food, and a television, and all of his needs met, but a prison nevertheless.

They are not allowed to leave. They are barely allowed to roam the area. If he wants to see Bucky, he has to wait for someone to walk him there.

It’s a prison.

It’s not time, though, and he knows it. It’s too soon for Tony, and even though he knows he’s right, the world still has it out for him.

The media has twisted all of his actions and everything he has done, and going back now will cause more trouble than help.

That doesn’-

“What the– what the fuck?!”

Steve startles at the sound of Clint’s voice, and he turns to his friend with a frown.

With the rage he’s been in since they have left the RAFT, he has a quip about language ready on his tongue, but it dies before he can say anything.

Because he sees what Clint is staring at– he sees what has made him swear.

“What the hell?!” Sam sounds as shocked as Clint, as he and the Ant-Man guy who’s name Steve keeps forgetting barge into the room. “Steve, you have to see– oh shit!”

On the television screen, Steve sees Natasha.

She’s laying on the ground, face covered by her hair, and there is a pool of blood on the ground next to her.

Because there is a knife in her side, bleeding profusely.

“What is this?” he asks, eyes on the screen. “Clint, where is-”

“The screen just appeared,” says Clint, sounding horrified. “Is this real? Who the fuck–”

“It’s on my screen too,” says Ant-Man, holding his phone between two fingers. “And Sam’s television. It’s–”

The door slams open, and one of the T’Challa’s bald guards is standing there, looking angry.

“What have you done?”

Steve does not even have the heart to be angry at the tone.

“We didn’t do anything,” says Sam. “It’s just– it’s on all of our screens.”

“All–” She says something in her language that sounds like a swear. “It’s not just the castle.”

“Not just the castle?” repeats Clint, trying to look away from Natasha’s limp form. Steve can’t tell if she’s breathing, and it makes his heart race faster. 

She had stood with Tony, but then she had understood the truth. She had helped Steve escape!

Who was doing this?

“Holy– is this playing worldwide?”

The guard looks like she doesn’t want to answer, so Steve takes a step towards her.

“She’s our friend,” he says, severely. “We have to know, we have to help–”

The point of her weapon is immediately aimed at him.

“Do not presume you can give me orders,” she says, sneering at him. “I follow Wakanda’s rule, and protect the people of Wakanda. You are foreigners. And we–”

“It’s playing everywhere in Wakanda,” said Wanda. She is standing in the corridor leading to the bedrooms, eyes wide and worried, a hand over her temples. “In the castle, and in town. I can hear the panic from everyone.”

“Dear god–” 

“Are you seeing this?”

The voice comes from the television, and everyone stops to turn and stare at it again. The image is still of Natasha, but now a black boot kicks at her.

Not hard, not painfully, but it makes Steve furious nonetheless.

Natasha makes a sound of pain, trying and failing to move away.

“You have thirty-six hours to turn yourselves in." Steve knows that voice, he realises, and his blood freezes. “Every single one of you - from Barton to Wilson. Every hour you take, is another knife almost - almost - killing her. Tic-toc, captain.”

Then, a dagger is stabbed in Natasha’s shoulder, and she can’t help another sound of pain from leaving her lips.

Steve knows her training.

He knows her strength.

He knows how much pain it takes for her to show emotions, for her to react.

Her pained moan makes his stomach twist.

Tony pats her on the head, the MIT ring easy for everyone to see.

Ant-man throws up.

“I don’t understand,” says Shuri, irritated. “How did he get into Wakanda's systems? If he managed to play worldwide I could somehow see it, but it’s just Wakanda. Nowhere else but the entire nation of Wakanda. It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Can you record it? Or report it? Or hack it?” Steve knows that he is not very tech savvy, but he feels the glare from Shuri to be a little too much. “I am just saying.”

“And do you think if I could do that, I wouldn’t have done it already, Captain? Stark is not stupid. He’s a genius.”

“I thought Wakanda was the most advanced nation in the world,” he says. It’s not supposed to be mean, but it sounds a little accusatory.

He knows Tony is smart, and that he calls himself genius, but he also makes mistakes all the time. 

“Tony Stark is the father of basically all modern mechanics,” says Shuri. She speaks slowly, like she thinks Steve is a very stupid child. “He created an entire supersuit in a cave with scraps. I am a genius, but this? This is his field. I’m good.” She turns back to the screen, and she sounds a little awed under her annoyance, and it makes Steve uncomfortable. “But he is better. ”

“I want to turn myself in.”

T’Challa is not surprised by this.

He is more surprised that Lang is alone, than anything else.

He would have expected the Captain to be standing here with Lang, negotiating with T’Challa over a plane for them to use to get to Romanoff.

However, according to the guards stationed outside the Rogues’ quarters, they are arguing about it.

They are in the midst of deciding whether they can trust Stark, and turn themselves in.

He does not understand this.

He respects Lang, though.

“I will get you a plane.” And perhaps, a lawyer, because god knows he’s going to need one.

Steve cannot believe Lang left them. He understands his fear, his worry.

Even he cannot quite understand why Tony is torturing Natasha in front of them all.

The Tony he knew was misguided, and made mistakes, but despite Wanda’s words, he wasn’t evil. He wasn’t an outright monster.

Yet here he was.

There are seven knives in Natasha, and while Clint is driving himself crazy over them, Steve is staring as Lang’s plane raises up in the sky.

He wants to turn himself in.

But he cannot risk Bucky, and even before this, he knew that he could not fully trust Tony.

Not about this. Not about Bucky.

And if he couldn't trust him back then, how can he trust him now?

Tony has clearly lost it, and god only knows what he could do now.

What he would do now, to Bucky, and to Steve.

He has the means. He has the misguided motivation.

Steve knows he can beat him if necessary, but if he can do this to Natasha, what will he do to the others? How many would he hurt before he–

At first, he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him.

Because it’s sunny, and it’s day, so why would there be fireworks in the sky?

“Holy fuck! Oh my god, where is that?!”

It’s not fireworks, he realises, eyes widening, the feeling in the pit of his stomach worsening.

It’s a flame.

It’s an explosion.

It’s Lang’s plane.

And it’s burning.

T’Challa stares at the footage in front of him, and he can barely breathe.

The explosion is replaying like it’s some sort of sick loop, and he can hear the panic inside of the castle.

There were Wakandan pilots on that plane. There was a lawyer.

There was Lang.

He doesn’t know much about Lang, but wasn’t he a friend of Stark’s? Wasn’t he a teammate of his?

He might have fought with the Captain but they were a team... right?

Part of him had thought the thing with the Widow was a game of some sort. A trick to lure out the Avengers.

Not real torture.

Not Tony Stark stabbing a teammate over and over again.

But that was a Wakandan jet, and somehow Stark had blown it up.

There was no way anyone had survived.

Stark wasn’t playing.

Steve does not go to sleep, that night.

He stays wide awake in his bed, going through every single memory, every single thought he has ever had regarding Tony Stark.

He wants to say that this is expected. He had always thought Stark wasn’t much of a hero, hadn’t he? He had always suspected him of being not quite right, not being—

He can’t even lie to himself.

Wanda had screamed up and down, when Steve had told everyone else what had happened to Lang. Her worst suspicions about Tony Stark had been proven true, and there had been something gleeful, almost maliciously proud about the way she had called him ‘murderer’ and ‘monster’.

Steve, Clint and Sam had not joined her arguments.

Clint had remained pale and silent, staring at the image of Natasha on the screen. Even when a new knife was embedded in her, all he did was stare, barely breathing, barely reacting.

Sam had spent maybe an hour with Steve, trying to help him figure a way out of this. Together, they had tried to approach T’Challa, tried to see if there was someone, anyone they could talk to.

T’Challa had refused to see them.

And Sam had disappeared into his bedroom, refusing to come out for dinner or any other reason.

Steve could understand: he had not had much appetite either.

Still, despite having spent the night tossing and turning, he was up and on his feet before the door to his bedroom could even be opened.

“What is it?” he asks the two bald women in front of him, tense and ready for a fight. “What happened?”

He’s been prepared. He knows how Tony thinks, and he knows that Lang was just a warning. That there is something more coming, and he knows from their expression that it has now come.

He still does not see the attack coming.

+++

T’Challa wants to say that Wakanda is the safest country in the world.

He wants to say that it is the most advanced country on the planet, and that nothing can threaten it. That nothing can scare the people of Wakanda.

But Iron Man, standing opposite a barrier he shouldn’t even be able to see, scares him.

Iron Man, clad in a white and blue armour, helmet closed... scares him.

Iron Man, flanked by more armours than T’Challa can count, all of them shining like particularly terrifying stars over Wakanda...

They scare him.

Most importantly, they scare the people of Wakanda.

The people of Wakanda, the elders of Wakanda who have been watching footage of the Black Widow attacked for hours at this point, unable to change the station, turn off the screens, even lower the volumes, they are scared.

They could fight him, T’Challa knows this. He thinks Wakanda might even win, because, at the end of the day, Tony Stark is one man.

A terrifying man, with powers he doesn’t quite understand, but still just a man.

But everyone’s nerves are fried. Everyone is jittery, nervous, feels threatened.

And even if T’Challa were to make a stand, why would anyone back him up?

For strangers? For enemies they did not even approve of having in Wakanda? Fugitives the people have only just found have been living it up in the castle?

T’Challa cannot incite this fight.

Stark knows this.

He has to know this.

“They are here,” says Shuri. She moves aside so four Doras can approach, each of them carrying a knocked out Avenger with them.

It is almost comical how pathetic and unthreatening they all look like this. 

Nothing like the monsters the media has portrayed them as.

Still, with every step the Doras take, the glares against T’Challa’s back grow sharper, and he stops himself from saying anything further.

He has already tried to talk to Stark. From the moment the alarm had sounded, he had attempted to make contact, to set up a line of communication, but it did not work.

Stark had clearly nothing more to say.

T’Challa remembered how much he had talked before, all the sarcastic quips and ‘funny’ comments, and feels another shiver at the metal plate in front of him.

If it wasn’t for the way it was floating among the other armours, T’Challa would not even had been sure it was Iron Man.

It–

“Barnes.”

It is the first thing he has said all morning, and the word is like a gunshot among the soldiers and Wakandans assembled with T’Challa.

“We cannot do that,” protests Shuri, glancing at her brother. “Barnes is under our protection. We–”

She stiffens as suddenly all of the armours aim their palms the barrier, the sound of their powering up almost like the sound of a plane starting.

It’s deafening.

Stark has not moved.

T’Challa wants to say that the armours cannot destroy their barrier. He wants to say that the threat means nothing, that Wakanda has nothing to worry about.

But T’Challa had also never thought that anyone could take over their radio signals the way Stark had.

He had also never thought someone could burn the plane a comrade was flying on for virtually no reason.

He had also never thought Stark could ever be so cold and yet so in control.

He was wrong on all three.

Honour is important, but he is first the King of Wakanda.

He had lost his throne once already.

Did he want to risk it over honour? Honour towards a white man who was not of Wakanda? 

He was one man.

How many Wakandans would lay down their lives for the Winter Soldier?

How many lives was he willing to trade for that of a brainwashed serial killer?

Steve wakes up last.

He doesn’t know he is last.

All he knows is that his senses return slowly, and all he can hear and feel is the sound of his team mates screaming and shouting and arguing around him.

At first, he has a moment where he has no idea what is going on.

A blissful moment in which he has no memory of what happened, nothing in his mind apart from confusion.

Why is everyone screaming? When did he fall asleep? Where was he? Why did his head hurt?

And then he opens his eyes, and everything comes crashing down.

He knows where he is. 

He has spent long enough looking at cryo freezers that he of course recognises what it is.

He has just never stood inside of one.

He has never stood inside of one, watching his team mates across from him, tied to chairs.

Clint.

Sam.

Wanda.

Bucky.

Bucky!

“What–” he tries, but his throat hurts. He has no idea of why it hurts, and no idea of what happened.

Why is he in here?

Why is Bucky out there?

The last thing he remembers was being attacked by the Doras. The sting of betrayal from their attack, and the other sting of something he could not identify going into his veins.

T’Challa has betrayed them.

Not only has he betrayed Steve and his team, he has betrayed Bucky.

Because Bucky is sitting out there, when he is supposed to be in Wakanda. He was supposed to be safe (they were all supposed to be safe).

He tries to slam against the glass with his hands, but he can’t... he can’t move.

His throat hurts, and his arms can’t move, and something twists in Steve’s chest.

How long was he out?

What did the Dora inject him with?

Tony appears from the side, and that something twinges again in Steve’s gut.

That’s when he realises that the something is fear.

He wasn’t scared of Tony in Siberia. He had been worried, and angry. But even as he watched the Iron Man chasing him and Bucky in that bunker, he realises he wasn’t afraid.

It had been a fight, and Steve never gave up on a fight. Steve knows how to win fights.

This? This is not a fight.

This is Tony in a way he has never seen him before.

It shouldn’t be scary.

Tony is walking in front of trained men and a woman with magic in nothing but a perfectly pressed white suit. He is wearing a tie that anyone could use to strangle him.

But when he glances at Steve, he has to fight not to throw himself back, not to flatten himself against the wall of the cryo.

He is not wearing sunglasses.

Steve has always considered Tony pretty. He was a vain man, in his opinion, but it wasn’t like his vanity wasn’t warranted.

Even if he wasn’t sinfully rich, he has the looks necessary to get whoever he wants.

It’s the eyes, he had thought back in the early days. It’s the eyes that drew you in.

Steve did not like men, but nobody could deny that Tony had beautiful eyes. They drew you in faster than you could realise, and he remembered how many notebooks pages he had wasted studying Tony’s eyes.

They were incredibly expressive.

Everything he wanted, thought, believed, it reflected so easily in those eyes. His admiration, disdain, his hatred, his support: as soon as he thought of something, his eyes would betray him.

It was why, in Steve’s opinion, Tony always wore sunglasses.

To keep his secrets to himself.

The way he had looked at him in Siberia had been more painful than the punch itself.

His eyes... they are dead right now.

They are colder than Siberia had been, as cold as the Arctic had been.

There is no twinkle in them. No hidden smile, no amusement... nothing.

It would help, Steve thinks with a shudder, if he found this fun. If he thought the entire thing was a game, if he was hurting them for his own pleasure.

That meant he had a goal. That meant he could be hurt.

But the nothing?

The nothing is bad.

Steve has fought people with nothing in their eyes before.

It makes them dangerous. It makes them hard to beat.

Because they are not fighting.

“Tony,” says Clint, and he sounds scared. It’s a weird sound, coming from Clint. He has been angry for so long, Steve has forgotten he can sound like anything else. “Tony, man, what are you doing?”

He’s so quiet.

Tony is usually loud. Annoyingly loud.

His movements are loud, is presence is loud. He is always talking, always moving. He flies around in a gold and red tincan, and doesn’t seem to understand the idea of being ‘subtle’.

It is eerie to see him so still.

It is eerie to hear him so quiet.

It is eerie to watch him so dead.

Villains boast. They monologue. They explain, with eyes filled with malice, waste everyone’s time with monologues.

For all of Wanda’s belief that he is a villain, Tony does none of that.

He pulls out a gun.

This isn’t a fight, but Steve can’t help it as Clint starts to sound frantic, and Sam starts speaking over him.

Wanda is crying and screaming, and Steve wishes anyone was strong enough to free themselves and take the damn collar from her neck. 

She would kill him, and Steve has never wanted Tony dead. Not even on the Helicarrier, not even during Siberia.

He wishes it now. 

Because he knows nothing can stop him, nothing will stop him.

“Tony!” he shouts, trying to move, trying to do anything but stand and watch. He can’t move a muscle below his neck. “Tony, stop!”

Sam is begging.

Tony is standing right behind him, with a gun pressed against the back of his head, and Sam is terrified. He is begging, and trying to fight against his bounds, and Clint and Wanda are screaming, and Steve is trying to do anything.

Bucky is the only one who remains composed.

He is awake – has been awake – but he is not crying. He is not fighting, is not screaming, he’s not doing anything.

If Steve had focused on him for long enough, he would have considered him... bored.

Steve has not time for that though.

All he has eyes for is Sam, and trying to free–

He had seen Lang’s plane. He had seen the way it had blown up, the way Tony had not cared for anyone inside that plane, not even the people of Wakanda.

Still, it’s like the recoil from the gunshot physically throws him back, and he has seen WWII, he has seen death, he has seen robots and aliens and friends and enemies hurt and injured–

But this is Sam.

This is Sam’s head caved in, this is blood spurting from a hole in his forehead, this is him limp like a rag doll, this is his friend dead–

He vomits.

It trickles down his shirt, and splatters against the glass, and the stench is horrible, but Steve can’t even notice it.

All he sees is Sam.

And Sam is now dead.

+++

Steve is not sure when Tony leaves.

He is so quiet, so invisible even in his pressed white suit, that he genuinely does not even notice him. 

All he sees, all he can see is Sam.

The slow trickle of blood on the ground. The brain splatter. The hunched body. The stillness of his entire frame.

It's all he can see, all he can register.

Until Natasha limps into the room.

There is a second, a moment, in which Steve thinks that everything will be okay. A moment in which he hopes they are saved, that Natasha is there to help them.

That she has freed herself, and is now here to free them too.

“Natasha,” he hears, and the moment shatters. “Kill Clint.”

Natasha had always been the one who knew the most about the Avengers initiative.

She had recruited Bruce Banner.

She had written a report on Tony Stark.

She had been on missions with Steve.

She might not have known Thor before the Invasion, but she had known Clint (who had ‘met’ Thor before).

Clint and her were like...

Twins was too little of a word to describe them.

They were partners in every sense of the word.

Tony had been too used to working alone, at the beginning. Bruce hadn’t wanted to be there. Thor had a goal and little interest in what would help the Avengers. Steve hadn’t quite mastered the new world, or been ready to simply trust his team mates.

Tony and Bruce had been drawn to each other through science, and Steve and Thor had slowly commiserated over their strength, leadership mentalities and being used to being unused to the way of the world.

But from the beginning, it had been Clint and Natasha. 

At the core of the Avengers, it had always been Clint and Natasha, and their relationship with one another.

Their friendship.

What Steve often called their love for each other.

That was why, at first, he did not take it seriously.

He heard Tony’s words. He could still see Sam dead. He could hear Wanda’s crying.

But... it just did not make sense.

It was Natasha and Clint.

It had always been Natasha and Clint.

From the moment Clint had chosen not to shoot her, it had always been Natasha and Clint.

His son’s name was Nathaniel.

Natasha had spent precious time deleting information on Clint during the fall of SHIELD/HYDRA. She had risked her life on the Helicarrier, convinced that she could break him from the hold Loki had on his mind.

She had outsmarted Loki and nearly died for Clint.

But then Clint said, “Nat... Nat, please,” and Steve focused on Natasha.

Steve actually looked at Natasha.

He had considered her dangerous, at the beginning. During his SHIELD operations, he had been wary of her.

But he had never worried about her.

Maybe she was fast and a good fighter, but Steve was stronger.

She had never been a threat.

“Nat, please,” begged Clint. “I saved you. I helped you. You can’t–”

Natasha has slashes all over her body. The material of her Black Widow uniform was covered in cuts from where blood spilled and drenched the fabric, and there was something in her eyes he had never seen before.

“That’s rich,” scoffed Wanda.

Steve glanced up from his sketchbook, glancing over at the girl.

She was staring at the window, watching as Tony and Natasha spoke – too lowly for even Steve to hear.

Natasha was smiling, eyes shining in delight at whatever Tony was saying.

He, on the other hand, was harder to read with the sunglasses on his face. But his expression was tight, and the corners of his lips were down.

“What is it?” he asked, looking back to Wanda.

“Stark,” she spat. “He thinks Natasha can’t be trusted. That she is the one who changes loyalty just to save her skin. As if he isn’t the one who only does things to make himself feel and look good.”

Steve had agreed with Wanda, back then. He had reprimanded her, of course. Told her not to invade Tony’s mind without his permission.

But he had secretly agreed with her.

“Natasha, please.”

He should have believed Tony.

He should have trusted Tony.

“Please, think of Laura. What are you going to tell her?”

He tries again to move, but whatever Tony or Wakanda did to him is still in full effect. 

And it’s shameful, and terrible, especially over Clint’s begging and Sam’s corpse, but all his mind can think of is the serum.

Is that what they have done? Have they deactivated the serum? Is this some immobilising agent or have they stripped him of his supersoldier abilities?

“You can’t do this, Nat,” says Clint, and he is more frantic now. He is fighting against his bindings, and the terror is clear on his face. “I am your friend! You can’t– Stop! Just, stop!”

She takes out a knife, and still Steve thinks this is a ploy.

He still thinks she’s going to free him, and then the two of them are going to fight Tony and win. He still believes that she wouldn’t, that she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

But she does.

Clint and Wanda are screaming and crying, and Steve only remembers to open his mouth and scream when the knife slashes at Clint’s throat and Wanda’s scream reaches a painful pitch.

He didn’t think she would actually do it.

He hadn’t truly believed Natasha could do it.

But all he can now do is scream, because she did do it, because there is a red gash against Clint’s neck, and Clint cannot make any real sound, can only gurgle as blood gushes out of the wound–

He throws up again.

It just– he can’t.

Steve had been through a lot. He has fought in WWII. He has seen the worst Nazis had to offer. He had killed people, when he was forced to.

His friends had been threatened before. The Avengers and the Howling Commandos both.

But no villain has ever gone through with a threat.

Because they always wanted something. They were always bargaining a life or an injury for a piece of information, for a material good.

This is not that.

Tony does not want that.

And that... that means Steve cannot fight back.

He has no idea of what happens to Wanda.

He sees what happens to Wanda.

He opens his eyes, and she is standing there, in a pool of her own blood. Her face is slack in an expression of pain and horror, and blood is pooling out of her chest, turning her clothes a scarlet darker than any of her magic.

He has no idea of how he passed out, or when. He remembers losing the contents of his stomach. He remembers shouting until his throat was raw, threatening, begging, arguing. He remembers pleading for Tony to just let them go, to just talk to them, to let him fix things.

He remembers how unimpressed Bucky had been, through it all. How he rolled his eyes every time Wanda tried to threaten the emptiness, how bored he seemed of it all.

The sickening realisation that Bucky had given up.

He remembers the slight irritation at Wanda’s shouting and arguing, and the sick and small part of him that wished it had been her instead of Clint and Sam.

He regrets it, when he opens his eyes again.

He doesn’t remember losing conscience, but it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter, because he comes to to Vision, standing in front of Wanda.

Vision, standing in front of Wanda, Vibranium skin wet with blood and bloody remains.

Vision, standing in front of Wanda, holding her squelching heart in his hands.

Vision, standing in front of Wanda, dead.

Steve loses it.

Back during Ultron, it had been easy to blame it all on Tony. To ignore the man’s proofs and just trust Wanda, to decide that Ultron was a fruit of Tony’s brain, of Tony’s mistakes.

But Ultron was all wrong. 

Too imprecise, too random, too chaotic.

Tony’s creations were never that.

Tony’s creations were methodical, systematic, precise.

Perfectly made.

If Tony had made Ultron, Ultron would not have failed.

If Tony had made Ultron, Ultron would have wiped out the world.

Vision just killed the only being currently on Earth that could and would have stopped Tony.

Thor is not on Earth.

And he is not sure that Hulk, without Wanda’s magic, would ever try to stop or fight Tony.

If Natasha was willing to kill for Tony, she will never kill Tony.

And Steve... Steve can’t even move.

Vision does not even pause.

He observes Wanda’s heart for a moment, and then disappears through the walls.

Wanda remains tied and dead, with Sam, and with Clint.

He doesn’t know when Tony comes back in.

He doesn’t see him walking in, doesn’t hear him move.

He just blinks, and Tony is standing behind Bucky, one hand tracing Bucky’s cheek.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, Tony. I’m sorry, I am so sorry, I should have never hidden anything from you, I should have never–”

Again, he is shocked by how quickly and violently Tony moves. By how easily he just smashes his fist into Bucky’s face, how loud the crunching of bones is.

If he was more aware, he would have noticed that this is what happened to Howard. He would have realised that this is payback, this is Tony forcing him to watch what he had been forced to watch.

He is not more aware.

He is trapped and screaming like an animal, trashing in his invisible bonds as he watches punch after punch shatter the face of his best friend, of his Bucky, of the only reason he is still alive. It breaks, and breaks, and Bucky is making sounds that are not even screams, and Steve cannot, he can’t–

He doesn’t know when Tony comes back in.

He doesn’t see him walking in, doesn’t hear him move.

He just blinks, and Tony is standing beside Bucky, one hand wrapped around his neck.

“Please,” he says. His voice is hoarse. “Tony, don’t do this. I am begging you, you can’t–”

Tony does not listen to him.

His hand – armoured hand, gauntlet hand – wraps around Bucky’s neck, and at first Bucky stays stoic.

Even as Steve starts screaming, Bucky doesn’t move, doesn’t trash.

But his face grows pink, and then red, and the human instinct is always to try and survive, to try and live.

Bucky starts trashing in his bonds, starts trying to free himself, to breathe, to fight back–

But Tony’s hold is impossible to escape, Tony’s Iron Man hands are too strong to fight against, and Steve is screaming and trying to move, trying to free himself, but he can’t move, he can’t do anything, he can’t –

Steve has no idea of how they escape.

He doesn’t remember how he and Bucky made it out of the torturous nightmare Tony put them in.

All he knows is that his throat is burning, and he is limping and trembling as they rush outside.

“Go,” he manages, as Bucky tries again to pull him along. “Buck, go.”

“I can’t! I won’t!” Bucky looks rabid, red marks over his wrists, spit and vomit and blood over his face and clothes. “Till the end of the line. You ride with me, okay?”

You ride with me?

Steve looks over at his best friend, frowning. What does that mean?

“Bucky...” He starts, and sees the blood coming out of his mouth. There is more blood than before, and it’s trickling down his chin, down his neck. “Bucky! You–”

Bucky lets go of Steve, clutching instead at his throat. His eyes are wide, and he is foaming blood as his face grows whiter and whiter–

Steve screams as he falls to the ground, and screams louder when he doesn’t get back up.

Steve has no idea of how they make it out.

He doesn’t remember escaping the cryo. He doesn’t remember freeing Bucky.

He doesn’t understand why they are back on the train, why Bucky is on the verge of falling off again.

Nothing about this makes sense.

But when Bucky lets go and falls, all Steve can do is scream.

Steve doesn’t remember–

“Any last words?

How did they manage–

“Bucky!”

They are burning, and he doesn’t–

“Steve!”

Natasha stabs him, over and over–

“No!”

Bucky aims the gun to his head, and shoots, and Steve–

“No!”

The ice swallows them, and–

“No!”

Attempt 98: failed.

The scenario Steve is forced into runs to an end.

“Again,” he says.

The Winter Soldier steps forward, and starts the program.

In front of him, the Compound burns. Natasha fights against the flames, fights to escape, but it’s too late: FRIDAY and JARVIS have made sure that there is no way to escape, no way out.

Tony watches her try, as Steve starts screaming again.

The Winter Soldier remains impassive next to him.

Tony glances to his left, where the cryo with Rhodey’s body lies, a red ‘failed’ on top of it.

He starts attempt 99. 

He can bring Rhodey to life again.

He has to.

Until then, Tony feels nothing.