Chapter 1
Tony watched him in the room, his face attempting to hide his pain.
A truth he learned a little too late into the game: You don't get justice.
You give it, like a scholarship, or a cure for disease, reap a reward that you wouldn't want anyway.
But you, as a so singular human being, don't get such a bountiful honor.
You don't get to find peace at night, alone in a bed that, if God finds you pardonabale enough, you get to share with someone who gives a crap enough to help you back to sleep when the sheets are replaced by the never ending guilt.
You don't get to rest, with new scum every 5 damn minutes.
You don't get to not have enemies. You don't get to keep your friends in this fight to undo wrongs.
You don't get to have justice for the murder of your parents.
Barnes sat below, apparently tiring himself out enough to do it.
So why, when out of all the shitstorms he endured, the one justice he can have, feels like he's doing the wrong thing?
"Sir? Agent Romanoff is here."
"Let her in."
Natasha walked into the room, the purposeful steps slowly turning into slow ones, as she approached the cameras.
".....What is this?"
"Short straw." He handed the dossier to her, as she looked at it. "Ross assigned you interrogation."
She looked at it, before looking back at Tony. "You can't tell me something doesn't feel right." She said.
Stayed quiet. "We're doing our job."
"Putting me on interrogation, and you after Rogers' best friend."
"He's a fugitive. We apprehended him."
"With a plan that even Fury wouldn't have approved."
"He killed my parents!" He tried to not yell, failing miserably.
"Then I should've been shot on sight. Not rescued."
"He doesn't get a pardon." Stayed silent.
"Then neither should you." She grabbed the dossier, leaving.
The staff in the room maintained their quiet.
You don't get justice.
They might as well have agreed she was right.
Or maybe, order in the chaos, was just another evil he just swallowed.