Into the Fray
“You don’t understand, if you don’t let me go, I’ll fight my way out. And if you kill me then so be it.”
President Brandt stared at him, a slightly annoyed look on his face while Stane looked positively murderous.
But Steve ignored him and continued. “I don’t understand what the issue is, you’ll get to film me in action instead of these fake propaganda videos, so you can pander my face for more support, and I get to feel like I’m actually making a difference. Why is that a bad thing?”
He knew why. Howard had filled him in. Apparently Steve’s face was so tied to the rebellion that they were worried if he died that the cause would die with him. He pretended not to know this fact. He knew Brandt and especially Stane did not want him knowing just how much power he really held.
He’d been slowly winning over the people of District 13 as well. He once walked into what he thought was a control room to find a screening room instead. Mostly District 13 avoided watching the games, only the higher ups paying attention to keep up with what was happening in the capitol, but the rest of the district paid it no mind as it was brutal and horrible to watch.
But they were watching it now. He walked into that screening room and found a large group watching the first of his games, his skinny terrified face staring back at him when he was tied up and mind jumbled in the tree.
They had stared at him when he’d walked through the door, and he’d stood there awkwardly for a moment before backing out and closing the door behind him.
He knew it must be spreading because District 13’s people started to sit with him at lunch. To ask him questions about his ma, Bucky, and even Peggy. They started engaging with him more as a human than as the Eagle. It was a huge relief to him, but he watched as Stane grew more and more angry, whispering things into Brandt’s ear. But the people didn’t like Stane either, and Steve felt their loyalty was on shifting sands.
So here he was. Utilizing a bit of his influence to get what he wanted. Which was to help others. To hopefully help Bucky.
“Fine.” Brandt snapped, “but don’t come crying back when you finally see the realities of war.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed, glaring at the man. “And which war have you seen President Brandt?” It’s a low blow, but Steve does not pull the punch. District 13 has been in hiding for the better part of a century and they have not engaged in any warfare until now.
The man’s face pinches and he waves Steve out of the room. He happily obliges.
————
Rebecca had informed him that Peggy was not accepting any visitors the day after she’d attacked him the last time. When he asked why, she just looked at him sadly and sighed.
“She knows she hurt you. And she hates that, but she also can’t stay in control. So she thinks it’s better for her to be alone. Safer.”
“But—“
“Steve, I’m just telling you what she said. Are you going to force yourself into her room?”
“No…”
“Then give her time. SHe’ll come around. I know Mr. Stark is trying to help her mind heal.”
Steve had sagged against the wall and she had sat next to him. Both of them sat there quietly, missing Bucky and the days when it was just them sitting in the Barnes’ living room, wondering what flowers to embroider.
——————-
The plane touched ground in District 8.
Steve watched as the back of the plane opened, hitting the ground with a thud. He could hear the steady heartbeats of his crew around him and he looked back at the camera men who were geared up and ready to go.
A figure flanked by two more appeared and stood waiting for them. Steve stepped off, walking towards her quickly and extending his hand.
“I’m Steve.” He said calmly, “thank you for meeting with me.”
She seemed amused at his introduction, “you think I don’t know who you already are?” She laughed and returned the handshake. “I am Okoye, leader of the rebellion here at 8. We are glad to finally see you.”
“I’m glad to finally be let out.”
Her eyes cut to him sharply and a look of understanding crossed her face. “Ah, I see. They were keeping the Eagle in his cage, yes?”
He grimaced, shifting the heavy bulletproof vest they required him to wear. “You could say that again.”
She nodded and waved him forward, her shoulders relaxing and seeming to take the camera people in stride. “I have much to show you. Let’s go.”
———-
Steve tried to keep moving, to keep up with Okoye, but everyone he saw wanted to shake his hand or grab his arm or speak to him and their hopeful faces and outstretched hopes were too much to ignore. He kept pausing, engaging with whoever asked and Okoye seemed impatient but said nothing. She watched with sharp vision as he walked and talked and even kicked a small ball around with a group of grimy soot covered kids.
“Come, Captain.” She finally said, “we must go.”
He nodded solemnly and shook one last hand before waving goodbye to the people in the shelter.
“The bombing from the Capitol has quieted down, but not enough for us to relaunch.” She explained, “our weapons cache grows small and we have very little manpower that isn’t injured, starved, or sick.”
Steve looked around at the hulking concrete structure they were in. It was a shell of what it must have once been. “You’re not safe here. You should split your group. Whoever is willing and able should be transported to either another district’s rebellion to aid their cause, or taken back to 13 to receive training. The rest should return to 13. To receive medical care and shelter until they’re able to join the fight or help out in other ways around 13.”
“And how do we manage that, Cap?” He heard Morita ask quietly.
“We take them in small amounts. Our jet that we brought could hold 50 if needed, right? So we start making trips, and we spread out the people remaining around 8 so the capitol doesn’t start bombing again just to ensure you guys can’t leave. 13 is getting smaller with the influx of refugees, but there’s still space. And everyone who can work, will. It will benefit the cause to have you guys safe. Less variables for the Capitol to harm.”
Okoye stared at him with an intense glare. “And your president Brandt would be okay with this?”
“The President knows that the more our resources are spread out, the harder it will be to gather together to defeat the Capitol. If District 8 is emptied out, then a huge section of supplies can be rerouted. You guys are fish in a barrel down here with the mountains on that side—“ he pointed, “so if we can slowly start shuffling all able bodies towards the capitol, then we can start turning the tide on this war.”
Okoye raised one eyebrow and a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Send the jets Captain. My people will be ready.”
He nodded and glanced at Dugan who was smiling. “Let's get these people to safety.” He said firmly, “move out.”
————
It took almost three weeks, and they lost one jet full of refugees when an unforeseen Capitol jet blew into their airspace. The loss hit Steve like a ton of bricks but Okoye stood at his side and reassured him that loss is part of war.
“We do our best. And sometimes that means we don’t save everybody.” She said calmly, watching the footage that was just coming in of the Capitol obliterating District 8. “But if we let that fear stop our actions, then maybe next time no one gets saved.” She looked at him, a strength in her eyes that he felt bolster his own. “Do you understand?”
He nodded. “I do. Thank you.”
“Thank you , Captain,” She said turning back towards the screen, “perhaps I would have lost my whole District if not for you.”
He looked around the cafeteria as the new refugees began to settle in. “I’m just glad they have a place to be safe.”
Her eyes went up to the podium where President Brandt’s face was now on the screen, damning the Capitol’s actions.
“Isn’t that what we all want?”
He turned to her but she was gone, the door swinging behind her on her way out.
————-
“Steve.”
He felt a pull on his arm.
“Steve wake up!” He rolled over and blinked awake, seeing the figures looming over his bed. “What is it?”
“Brandt’s dead.”
He sat up fast, eyes widened, “what!?”
“He’s dead.” A grim Howard stepped forward and turned on his bedside lamp in his small quarters.
Olive stood there, looking frightened, a frowning Dugan stood guard at the door, Howard and Phillips stood next to his bed.
“What happened?”
Phillips cleared his throat, “word is that he caught a virus from District 8’s refugees. HIt him too fast for medical to save him.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Whose word is that?”
“You know who.”
“Stane.”
No one responded. Which was answer enough.
“So what happens now?”
“Stane is the next in line, unless someone wanted to challenge him for the presidency.”
Steve looked at Phillips, “you should. You would be gre—“
The old man raised a hand, “I appreciate the compliment son, but no thank you. I plan to retire, either when I die at the Capitol’s hand, or when we’re free from it. Not sign up to take care of a broken people in need of a fresh start.
“You could.”
Steve’s neck snapped to Olive. “No. No way.”
She sat next to him on his bed, her small hand grabbing his. “Steve, you’re the only person everyone trusts. Most people, including 13, don’t even like Stane!”
“She’s right.” Howard added, “You could win it.”
“I don’t want it.” He said firmly. Then his jaw set, “how do we get proof that he actually died of a sickness?” The grim faces he received in response tell him he’s not the only one to consider that fact. “Stane could have easily accessed him. Taken him out.”
“His body has already been disintegrated to ‘keep the virus from spreading’.”
“That bastard.” Dugan gruffed from the doorway.
“So,” Steve asked, looking at all of them. “What are you all doing here telling me this?”
Howard sat on the small chair, “If Stane’s making a grab for power, Brandt would have been his first obstacle. But not his biggest.”
Steve’s jaw hardened. “You think he’ll come after me.”
Phillips looked at the doorway, “I think he’ll send you on as many dangerous missions as you want, hoping the Capitol will do his dirty work for him. But if that doesn’t work… Yeah… I think he’ll try to get rid of you. Sooner than later. Make you a martyr.”
“I can take care of myself.” Steve said sharply,
“We know.” Howard said with an eyeroll, “but help doesn’t hurt. And I’ll be damned if I let Stane get his two-timing hands on you.”
Olive’s grip tightened on his hand and Phillips’ and Dugan’s determined faces made him smile.
“Thanks.” He said genuinely, “I appreciate it.”
Howard leaned forward and looked him straight in the eye, “when Erskine and I talked about you and before we knew everything was going to go to hell…” Steve felt his chest tighten at the mention of Erskine, “I remember him saying… ‘Mr. Stark, we have all been cowards in the face of the capitol, but I know things can change. We just need the right person.” His face softened and he leaned back, “I won’t let his memory be dishonored. We’re with you pal.” He said with a smirk, “all of us.”
His throat was tight but he nodded, “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I live up to what he hoped.”
——————-
The memorial for Brandt was succinct and rather bland. Steve and the others had decided not to fight Stane’s power grab for the moment, but bide their time. They could sense the deep unrest in the community already. Stane would not last as their leader for long if he attempted anything out of the ordinary. So for now, they waited.
——————-
Steve asked after her again, and Rebecca hesitated this time.
“What,” He asked, panic searing through him, “what happened?”
“No—“ she started quickly, “nothing’s wrong, she’s—“ she hesitated and placed a soft palm on his arm, “she’s actually doing a lot better. Her hair’s growing back and she’s gaining weight.”
Relief flooded him, “good.” He looked at her seriously, “is she… Does she still not want…” He looked at the hallway he knew she was residing off of, “she still doesn't want to see me?”
Rebecca looked at him and her face was sympathetic, “Not yet, but maybe soon. I think she might change her mind soon.”
“You do? Why?”
She smiled, “she asks about you a lot. How you’re doing, what you’re doing. She says your name a lot in her sleep.”
His hand tightened on hers, “can you tell her I want to see her? I want to talk to her? Even if for just a minute, or through the glass partition, please, will you tell her?”
The soft nodded made him take a deep breath, “yes, Steve. I’ll tell her.”
He hugged her and then looked at her in the eyes, “I’m heading to the capitol soon. I’m bringing him back. You hear me Becca? I’m bringing him home.”
Her face furrowed and grief appeared in her eyes. “Steve, what home? We don’t even have a home anymore.”
He hugged her tighter, “Home is where we are, okay? He’ll be safe with us. When he’s with us, he’s home, you understand?”
He felt her sob against his chest and he couldn’t deny the stinging in his own eyes.
——————
The leader walked down the steps into his cell.
He felt the dread rise sharply as the thunking sound of his thick boots brought him closer.
He’d only come to see him a few times but each time left a shuddering fear down his spine.
“Hello soldier.” The man said in a voice filled with false kindness. “How are we today?”
“Functioning.”
“Wonderful.” The man said, raising his chin with a leather gloved hand.
The man’s pin on his jacket drew his eyes. The shape was familiar and it filled his gut with dread. He just wasn’t sure why.
“A mission, sir?” He asked, hoping to get his instructions quickly so the man could leave.
“Not yet.” The man responded, circling him from where he was chained to the ground. “You’re not quite ready.” The man said a name that filled his ears with a buzzing noise. He didn’t wince but he wanted to.
“Soldier?”
He looked up, eyeing the man with the black leather coat, “yes, sir?”
“What is your name?”
The question was simple, and yet no answer presented itself. But the man had called him soldier. So that must be it.
“Soldier.” He responded. When no pain or assault was forthcoming. He looked up to see that the man was smiling at him, a smile that made him sick.
“Very good.”
—————-