Finale

Steve jolted out of bed, a hand pressed to his chest where a tight knot settled, gulping in deep breaths of air in a way he hadn’t ever since the serum had taken away his asthma. The blonde closed his eyes and let his hand fall to his side, bunching the sheets between shaking fingers.

Nightmares weren’t anything new to him, he’d had his fair share when he had been defrosted. Most of the time, it was Bucky falling from the train, his hand reaching out but never quite able to grasp onto his friend. Other times, it was Peggy, her sweet smile and broken voice haunting him every time she turned her eyes on him – devoid of recognition.

Recently, though, his dreams began to take on the form of his latest blunder.

He wondered vaguely if Peggy would approve of what he had done.

Or more specifically, what he had done to her godson.

His breath came out as a sharp whistle. The day that he had learnt that particular information was nothing short of horrible. It was bad enough to hear Fury’s reprimand, to be cowed by Rhodes’ ire, and confronted with Natasha’s disappointment. But he’d take all of those ten times over if it meant that he never had to hear that Tony was Peggy’s godson.

He hadn’t even known that they were close, though in hindsight, he realized that he should’ve. Howard and Peggy had been close friends even back during the war, and it was only natural that she would’ve been a part of his life – a part of his son’s life. Tony was the one who provided Steve with Peggy’s address after all, but he’d chalked it up to Tony being Tony and hacking the information out of the servers.

He didn’t even realize how defensive he had been towards Peggy, as if she was his and his alone, and that nobody could touch her.

Knowing her, Peggy would castrate him if she was still alive – age or not, she would have made sure he paid for his mistakes in a much more creative way than any of the current Avengers ever could.

He opened his eyes again, sucking in a deep, long breath. He couldn’t do anything to change the past, but he could very well try and work for the better in the future.

At least, that’s what he told himself every morning.

It was tiring, to get up each day to be faced with the unfamiliarly cold walls of Wakanda – a gilded cage and sanctuary all at once. Steve vaguely wondered if this was how animals in the zoo felt. It was tiring to meet the faces of his friends and see their disappointment reflected in their eyes. He would’ve preferred their anger – that, he could fight against – but that was the problem wasn’t it? His need to constantly fight was what had torn the Avengers apart. He couldn’t settle down, always ready to fight with his fists even when all he needed to do was take a step back. The problem with him was that he always thought that stepping back meant bowing down to the bullies, but he didn’t see that it meant letting those who were better experienced in those areas fight the same battle. Steve saw everything as being straightforward, but he hadn’t recognized the fact that the road was convoluted.

He sighed and dragged his feet to the ground. He felt like staying in bed, but as he told himself every day, it would not make matters better if he hid in his room all day. He may have made a huge mistake, but he had never been a coward and he wasn’t about to start now.

So he took another deep breath and told himself that things would be better.

Steve settled in the common room, having come up from an hour of intense training at the gym. Sam was behind him somewhere, in the in-built kitchen, cups clinking together as he poured drinks out for them. It was habitual enough that the whole team (not the whole team, his mind supplied) gathered in the common room in the late mornings. Despite their misgivings towards him, the rest of them still drifted here, the only difference being the silence and tension. Steve picked up the remote and switched on the television, hoping for the noise to dispel the discomfort.

Clint hogged the lone armchair, staring vacantly at the ground, his mind clearly troubled and far away even though he was physically present. Wanda was curled up on the couch where Steve was sitting on, a small red ball of light floating between her fingers, her eyes tracking it's every movement, as though the tiny scarlet globe held all the answers in the world. Scott slunk in too, dropping down onto the ground, bringing a knee up to his chest, head bent towards the ground.

Natasha was nowhere to be found.

Steve looked away from his team, fixing his eyes on the screen, staring at the moving images without processing them. He couldn’t bear the downcast looks on his team’s faces, not when he knew that he was the cause of them. He knew, logically, that he had wronged them by keeping secrets from them (sometimes, my team mates don’t tell me things) but a part of him was still coiled up in tight anticipation – waiting for someone to challenge him so he could fight back. He was torn between the need to defend his actions, and acknowledging that he had done a stupid thing that probably broke the trust his friends had in him. That realization had him slouching into the sofa, wishing desperately that he could disappear.

With all their attentions otherwise occupied, none of them noticed when a newcomer entered the doorway.

“Well isn't this cozy.” A voice snarked, whistling sharply.

At once, all of their heads snapped up, Wanda throwing her hands up in defense, Clint tensing up and Sam brandishing a ceramic cup, both ready to fight. Steve’s head snapped up as his muscles tightened with anticipation, and then horror locked his body in the split second that he processed what he was seeing.

Because standing by the door of their common room in Wakanda, was Tony Stark.

Tony was dressed well, in a three piece suit similar to the one he had on in Berlin, but this was a dark shade of red, with the front buttoned. He had his glasses on, and Steve had no doubt that FRIDAY was with him, even if Tony didn’t look like he had any armor on him. The man looked as untouched and unflappable as before, and it struck a chord somewhere in Steve’s chest, that there was a possibility that Tony had been living well without him.

Tony clucked, reaching up to take his glasses off, “What’s with the hostility guys? I thought we were friends? Oh wait,” he said, lifting a hand up, smirking humorlessly, “Forgot, can’t be friends when I’m apparently your jailers eh?”

Clint gritted his teeth, emotions warring within him, “What are you doing here Stark?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “What, not happy to see me birdbrain? Thought you wanted to know that I haven’t broken my back.”

Clint flinched, and the vicious gleam in Tony’s eyes was the last straw for Steve. He strode up, blocking his team physically. If he hadn’t been so close to Tony, he would’ve missed the near imperceptible flinch.

It made him stop in his tracks for a moment, but a moment was all Tony needed, “Always the hero eh, Rogers?” he grinned, baring his teeth.

“What are you here for Tony?” Steve asked, his voice pitched low.

Tony grinned and moved around him, giving a show of looking around the place, “This is a pretty nice place for a bunch of criminals to be hanging out, is this house arrest or are you guys still roaming out there trying to save the world?”

“This is a restricted area Mr Stark.” T’Challa’s voice echoed from the doorway, the king striding in with a rigid back.

Tony shrugged, “You know me Your Pantherness, a ‘No Entry’ sign is only going to make me want to look at it more.”

“And it’s all about what you want isn’t it?” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, echoing a conversation they had so long ago.

Tony’s smile slipped slightly, clearly, he too remembered their very first conversation. “Yes well,” he continued, unruffled as ever, “It’s not like you’d understand would you Captain, getting what you want at any cost?”

Steve stiffened.

“Mr Stark,” T’Challa cut in, “I must request that you exit from this area.”

Tony shrugged, turning on his feet and making for the door. Just before he stepped out, he reached into his pocket and took out two objects, throwing it towards the group.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat before Wanda caught the objects, two slim, nondescript phones.

“Laura Barton and Cassie Lang.” Tony said, nodding to the phones, his face devoid of emotion, “Those are untraceable, and I gave similar models to Laura and the Langs, you can call them if you want, but whether they pick up or not, it’s up to them.”

Clint fished one phone out of Wanda’s grip, Scott the other, both of them stared at it like it was some treasure from heaven.

“Stark – Tony –” Clint stuttered.

Tony waved a hand at him, “Forget it, I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for the kids.” He looked straight at Steve, “Kids should never grow up without their fathers, especially not if their fathers can help it.”

Then he was gone.

Steve collapsed against the back of the couch, nodding absently to something that T’Challa said before the king left as well. The American hero rubbed a hand over his face, wondering vaguely what the heavy feeling in his chest was.

 Steve remained seated in the common room for all of five minutes before he was out the door, ignoring the cries of his friends.

He ran down the hallway, not even knowing where the object of his search was, but not willing to give up without a fight.

He bumped – literally – into Shuri, the princess of Wakanda and the leader of the Dora Miljae. Steve reared back, “I’m sorry Your Highness.”

Shuri eyed him like a cat would a bird, but she refrained from displaying anything more than a slight roll of the eyes. “Where are you rushing off to now Captain? If I may remind you of your agreement with my brother…” she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Steve hastily put his hands up, “I haven’t forgotten our agreement Your Highness, but – I – do you know where I can find King T’Challa?”

Shuri eyed him suspiciously, “They’re in the meeting room. And I would not press your luck, Tony Stark is not a forgiving man.”

Steve bit his lips to prevent the words from slipping out.

He wondered if his intentions really were that transparent.

 Steve stood outside the room for what felt like hours, a chill in his spine that had nothing to do with the artificial breeze in the Wakandan compound. The hiss of the door had him straightening his spine unconsciously, tilting his head to where two men exited. The first stopped short, glancing back into the room momentarily. Steve bit his lip but refused to look away, staring the king of Wakanda down.

Tony Stark stepped out after T’Challa, took one look at what the king was looking at, and walked away.

Steve jerked, “Tony! Wait –”

“It was nice doing business with you Simba,” Tony said, smirking as he shook the king’s hand, “Next time I’ll bring you to Vegas, how about that?”

T’Challa shook his head ruefully, “I do apologize –”

Tony held up a hand, “It’s fine kitty cat,” his eyes flicked to Steve, “Wasn’t as if I didn’t know already.”

“Tony…” Steve whispered in the lull of the conversation.

Tony glanced at him, mahogany eyes hidden behind scarlet lenses, “If you’re worried about Ross coming after you, you can continue hiding in peace, I won’t tell him.”

“Tony no, that’s not –”

“Please,” the genius scoffed, “are you telling me that you’re not concerned at all?”

Steve shook his head, “No, of course I am, it’s Ross. But that’s not what –”

“Then we have nothing else to say to each other.” Nodding to T’Challa, he turned and made to head off.

Steve surged forward, ignoring the alarmed cries behind him, he grabbed Tony’s arm, his fingers wrapping around the limb.

He had half a second to realize that it was the wrong move to make when the arm tensed and ripped itself out of his grip. He shrunk back defensively, but even his half-raised arms couldn’t come up fast enough to block the gauntlet that was centimeters from his eye. The whine of repulsor tech filled his ears, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. The blood red gauntlet was levelled at his right eye, close enough that he could feel the heat emanating from the repulsor which was glowing dangerously. His eyes darted to Tony’s, finding the genius staring coldly at him. The tension sky-rocketed, and nobody dared to even breathe.

“I said,” Tony hissed, his voice as cold as the deepest winters, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Steve swallowed, but the lump in his throat never disappeared.

“Tony...” T’Challa murmured, his shoulders rising up in tension.

Tony remained where he was for several heartbeats more, watching Steve with guarded eyes. He retracted his hand, the gauntlet folding back into an innocuous watch.

This time, when he left, Steve didn’t try to go after him.

He could only watch as Tony stalked down the hallway, feeling the king’s disapproval radiating behind him. He barely heard T’Challa’s command for him to return to the rooms that were given to him, thinking only of the way Tony’s hand hadn’t even wavered.

Tony stepped out into the gardens, sucking in a breath of fresh air. He never considered himself to be particularly vengeful – Afghanistan aside – and he’d told himself to remain calm numerous times on the way here. He’d managed it even, up until he saw the five of them sitting around casually in a mini apartment. He’d felt the tension between all the members, but the sight of them in such a domestic situation brought back memories.

Things from earlier, easier days.

Clint, dropping down form one of the vents overhead, right in front of a sleepy Tony who screamed and threw his mug at him. Natasha, sitting on the counter, covering her smirk with her own mug. Clint catching the mug and throwing a wad of paper back while Tony tried to calm his heart.

“I have a heart condition you assholes!”

The archer just cackled, “You were scared – admit it!”

Steve walking in with a confused face that soon turned into the Eyebrows of Disappointment at their antics and tried to pull them apart. Bruce, blinking stupidly at the scene before walking back out clearly not wanting to deal with their bullshit.

Tony sighed, easier days indeed – where their enemies were dictators and they fought aliens not each other.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt his nostalgia wash away like a landslide.

Without turning around, he said, “You really don’t understand the meaning of no do you?”

Several feet behind him, Steve smiled sheepishly – the gesture going unseen – “I just – I just wanted to apologize Tony.”

Tony turned around, eyebrow raised in disbelief, “And I thought I told you – I have nothing to say to you.”

Steve felt a flash of irritation, “Tony –”

The genius raised a finger to stall the protest, “No. I have absolutely nothing to say to you Rogers, and even if I did, I wouldn’t want to talk to you anyway.”

Steve frowned, “Tony,” he chided, “I’m trying to apologize here.”

Tony laughed, “And you still don’t understand do you? Maybe the title ‘Captain America’ actually got to your head.” The genius chuckled, “Wonder what Romanov would say about your ego?”

Steve shook his head, the irritation growing alongside confusion, “Stop being childish Tony, I made a mistake, and I’m trying to apologize –”

Tony snarled, cutting the other man off completely, “I don’t want your apology Rogers.” He hissed, “I don’t want to hear your excuses, I don’t want to hear your fucked up apologies – once was more than enough thank you very much.”

“You read the letter?”

Tony rolled his eyes and threw his hands up, “Oh my god why do I even try? Clearly you only hear what you want to hear.”

Steve scowled, “Tony, I risked everything to send you that letter and phone, and you couldn’t even have the decency to respond?”

Tony scoffed incredulously, “I don’t even know where to start with that sentence. Risk everything? You wouldn’t have needed to do that if you had just signed. The. Goddamn. Accords. The decency to respond? Steven Grant Rogers, are you playing dumb or do you need me to spell it out for you? A phone is a two way street – if one side doesn’t respond, it means that they don’t fucking wantto.”

Steve fell silent at that, mulling the words over. He didn’t get it – he had made an effort to reach out to Tony despite the dangers that such an action posed to all of them, he was making an effort to learn more about the Accords, he had done nothing but try to make amends… Two blinks later, he realized his mistake – he hadn’t told Tony about his looking through the Accords.

“Tony, I’m asking Natasha for help to look through the Accords.”

The man just blinked at him, “Alright, good for you.”

Steve frowned, “I’m making an effort Tony, why are you being deliberately obtuse?”

“Ooh, big words there Cap, you sure your brain can handle it?” Tony snarked.

The blonde grimaced, “Tony can you just understand that I’m trying to make amends here?”

“Ever heard of the phrase too little too late?”

“What is wrong with you?” Steve shouted, throwing his hands up – completely missing the genius’ flinch – “Why must you treat everything like a joke? I’m trying to apologize and you’re not even making an effort to acknowledge it!”

Tony’s face closed off faster than an oyster shut its shell.

“Oh believe me Captain,” he sneered, “I acknowledge your apology. I also don’t give a damn about said apology.”

Steve stared at him flabbergasted, “Why?”

“Why? Why?” Tony barked a laugh, “Disregarding the whole fiasco with the Accords where you refused to fucking listen – what makes you think that I’d forgive you after what you did Mr. Sometimes-my-teammates-don’t-tell-me-things?”

Steve flinched at the name while Tony roiled on, “Did you think that you’d apologize and I’d bow down and welcome you back with open arms? Did you fantasize about it? Thinking that the moment you uttered your meaningless apology I’d say ‘all’s well Cap’ and we’ll skip off to the Compound?”

“I –” Truth be told, Steve had thought about that, because never once in his thoughts did Tony not forgive him. And now that the possibility was very real, it terrified him.

“Newsflash Captain,” Tony growled, “Despite what you think, the world does not revolve around Captain fucking America. I can get over the fact that you listened to an active and willing HYDRA agent over me just because Ultron created himself. I can get over the fact that you clearly said ‘fuck you’ to me with the whole Accords fiasco. I can even try and get over your hypocritical statement back at the Barton farm.”

Steve’s heart dropped with each word that came out of his friend’s mouth, but the genius wasn’t done.

The man continued in a deadly voice, “But I cannot – and will not – ever forgive the fact that you hid the truth of my parents’ death from me.”

“I –” the hero stuttered.

Tony smiled viciously, “Do you know what it did to me?”

“Tony…” Steve whispered.

“For years – for twenty odd years – I blamed Howard for killing my mum. I blamed him for drinking too much before he drove that he wrapped the car around a tree. For twenty odd years – I hated Howard for taking away the one thing in my life that mattered to me. And then now – to find out all along that it was murder not an accident that took them away.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Steve said weakly, despair gripping his heart.

Tony merely turned around, “If you come after me again, I will blast your face apart.”

Steve wanted to fight – wanted to rally up and shout at Tony for not listening to him, for being a bully, but he swallowed all that down and said, “For what it’s worth Tony, you are my friend.”

Back turned to him, Tony just smiled bitterly, “With friends like these, who needs enemies?”