Title: heroes of our time

Author: A. X. Zanier

Status: WIP

Rating: R (Language, violence, sexual situations, the usual)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Disclaimer: a) The characters and basic story ideas of Captain America/Avengers/et al are the property of others including, but not limited to Stan Lee, Marvel Studios, Disney Studios. Any additional characters or story ideas are mine. I make no money from this intellectual exercise. b) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any opinions or views expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of the author and are used for storytelling purposes only.

Series: Apparently. Follows my short No Rest for the Weary

Spoilers: Oh hell yes. Any part of the MCU is fair game.

A/N: I blame this damn story on watching Eurovision this year. The opening song hit me like a freight train and I got not one, but two bunnies screaming at me. One canon, one AU (which I probably won't post), but neither will let me go. As I appear to be channeling one very unhappy Steve Rogers, you'll get to enjoy me fumbling about in first person.

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heroes of our time

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"What are you going to do now?"

Sam had asked me that, oh, a couple weeks ago, I think. I hadn't had an answer for him them and still don't now.

Don't get me wrong, it had been a good question, I just had no clue where to go from here. I'd been soldier of one stripe or another for the formative parts of my life. I'd always been a fighter, I just got much better at it after the serum that physically made me the man I am today. I had all this power that was utterly useless for anything of even small importance, never mind great.

For all that I wore a mask when doing the hero schtick, far too many knew my face and with half the governments of the world wanting to see me in chains... well, doing what I considered my job was no longer an option.

The world had apparently decided that they no longer needed the type of hero I had become.

I looked about me as I strolled down the street, the sun casting deep shadows here and there, the people smiling and seemingly happy for the most part. Wakanda was a prosperous country overall and had the power to stand up to the UN should they come calling. Not that I worried about it over much. If they came... when they came, we'd run, I would not allow T'Challa or his country to face the wrath that would befall them.

No, we would pull up stakes and find another place to hide. I'm sure there are any number of old Hydra or SSR bases still standing, abandoned, but still more than adequate for a hidey hole should it be needed.

I sighed softly, catching my reflection in the mirror-like window of a shop I walked past, baseball cap low over my brow, head tipped down, so few could see my face, light jacket over the shirt even though the balmy weather didn't require it.

Just because we had been granted asylum by the King himself did not mean a phone call could not be made to any of a dozen hotlines that would send those same dozen authorities here in an effort to arrest me and take possession of Bucky.

Paranoid?

Maybe. But after having SHIELD turn out to be Hydra it felt more than justified.

There were days I wished I'd never been pulled out of the ice.

But then I think if I hadn't the world would be a much worse place.

Then I realize that is pure ego on my part. SHIELD, Fury, Hill, Tony, Thor, Clint, Nat and all those others would have still fought, probably even won, it just would have been differently and might have avoided some of the mess that happened because of my need, my obsession with finding my old friend Bucky.

Though, truth be told, Bucky would most likely still be the Winter Soldier and in the same place he currently is: on ice.

At least now he had the chance to be something else.

The cell phone stuffed deep into the pocket of my jeans vibrated and I debated ignoring it. It was never anything I wanted to see. Usually just Sam or Wanda checking in on me.

I hadn't contacted anyone on the outside since coming here. Hadn't dared. One text to the wrong person and they would know where we were and Wanda, if no one else, needed some peace, some time to deal with what she had done, by accident admittedly, and what had been done to her.

Ross and those at the Raft had not treated her with the kid gloves she had deserved, but as if she were the monster she feared she had become. Yes, her abilities could be used to hurt people, had in the past, but she had been given a second chance by the Avengers and chosen to use them to help instead of hurt others.

They had acted out of fear, which had done nothing more than reinforce her own worries about herself.

Was she dangerous? Yes.

But so was I. Perhaps more so since I had the experience to use my skills with a precision and deadly earnestness that could be frightening.

I had spoken to her several times, but she hadn't been ready to talk about what they had done to her. She spent most of her time in her rooms and I had given her the space she seemed to need.

And, I suppose, done the same for myself. Not that I hid in my rooms, but I most certainly avoided interaction with the locals. Oh, I knew most of the techs and doctors who were dealing with Bucky and the efforts to repair the damage to his mind, but other than them, Sam and Wanda, I kept mostly to myself. Created my routine and stuck to it. A run in the morning, sparring in the afternoon, or punching heavy bags until they burst, drop in to check on Bucky, maybe run into Sam, who had taken to hanging out with the private bodyguards of the King, who were very impressive fighters, learn what I could about the local culture including the language and then to bed.

Pretty much the same thing every day. I avoided the news now, the furor over the jailbreak at the Raft having finally died down, the news speculating as to whether or not I could actually be stopped if they managed to catch me. Tony, they can take away his suits, without Iron Man he goes back to being nothing more than a tech genius, but me... the power is in me, much like Wanda and can't be so easily contained.

The phone vibrated again, more insistently it seemed, so I pulled it out and read the half dozen texts there.

Summed up they read, Get back here. Now! All from Sam, with increasing urgency.

I sighed and texted back, Is Wanda okay? even as I turned about and began striding quickly back the way I came. While guests of the King, we were not staying in the palace itself, but apartments reserved for visiting dignitaries and the like. Far more than I deserved, but given we were essentially homeless and unable to access our funds in the US, we suffered through the lavish largess of his majesty's kindness and hoped we could repay it one day.

Once clear of the comparatively crowded streets I broke into a run, the one that Sam still made commentary about. On your left had become our code for all is good in the years since we'd met and begun working together.

She's fine. Just hurry your lazy-ass up, came the quick response I glanced at before upping my speed another notch.

Something had clearly happened, enough for Sam to be worried and drag me back from my daily wallow in self-pity... I mean workout. I did not use my time to second guess my choices. They'd been the right ones, I knew that in my gut, more in my heart, but the amount of damage that had been done, both physical and personal had been on my mind constantly. The inability to sleep more than a few hours ongoing, which gave me plenty of time to second and triple guess myself.

Stupid perhaps, but with nothing else to occupy my mind aside from that one set of files...

My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it and pushed my pace a touch more, covering the last few hundred yards swiftly.

I slowed down as the residence came into view, not even the least bit out of breath, which would annoy Sam to no end, but caused me to smile slightly.

It was still in place when I opened the door and rushed inside to the lobby. Sam stood there, phone in hand, thumbs flashing over the tiny keyboard, my phone vibrating seconds later.

I debating texting back just to annoy him, but instead said, "What's so important?"

He twitched and spun around. "Took you long enough," he groused, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

"Well, even I can only run five miles so fast."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Where were you?"

I shrugged. "Downtown, window shopping."

He shook his head as he glanced at his watch, calculating how long it had taken me to run the distance. "I hate you," he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

He didn't. He just kept forgetting that I could do things far beyond those of mortal men, which I kind of liked. I wasn't always Captain America to him, especially these days. These days I tended to be nothing more than Steve. A nice change in some ways, but I had to admit I'd forgotten how to be Steve. I liked it when he reminded me that I didn't have to be super all the time.

"Where's the fire?" I asked, easily able to see the tension written all over him. Something had gone wrong; not with Wanda, but something. "Bucky?"

"Still a popsicle as far as I know. There's been-"

"An earthquake," an new voice finished and I turned to see the King of Wakanda walking towards us with two of his bodyguards flanking him.

"What he said," Sam grumbled, looking unhappy to have his thunder stolen. "Your highness." he nodded to the King who gave him a grin from a moment, followed by a far more serious look.

It didn't take me more than heartbeat to understand why Sam had called me back and I said the only thing possible, "How can we help?"