A/n: A short one-shot regarding the events of Captain America: Civil War. A constantly recurring dream since the trailer of Avengers Infinity War. While comments and reviews are welcome, flames are not appreciated. I write things as I see, feel, and interpret. Enjoy. -Xoxo Elisa
Disclaimer: I do not own anything within the Marvel Universe. Only my own thoughts and dreams
"He's my friend."
"So was I."
The inventor lies bruised and broken upon the concrete, weighed down by the burning rage of his new knowledge and slight glimmers of shame over his actions. The shield lying at his feet, one of his father's crowning achievements now abandoned, does little to detract from the guilt. For the first twenty-one years of his life he had heard so many stories about the great Captain America, but now he realized his father's stories had never done the man justice. The man Howard and Aunt Peggy had spoken of was nothing like the man he had fought with, the man who had walked away as if he were nothing. The Steve Rogers Howard had abandoned Tony in his youth to search for was nothing but a myth, a coward disguised as a hero. The Steve Rogers Aunt Peggy had spoken so fondly of was not warm, approachable, and trusting to a fault. No, Steve Rogers was cold, detached, and critical of everything and everyone. He took a logical approach towards every mission and rarely displayed emotion, save for the cold righteous fury of judgement. Sure, there had been times -at team gatherings- where he had joked around and cracked a smile, but it never reached his eyes. No matter how many barriers the team broke through, he broke through, the captain's shields never lowered past the polite disposition of a colleague.
It was because of that cold logic that Tony had so foolishly been certain Rogers would agree to the Accords. Perhaps it was his observance of the captain's martyr-like distaste for the loss of innocent life, or the projections of his own guilt, but he fully believed there would be no resistance to the operation of the team under regulation. He thought it would be a better alternative to foreign militaries compromising missions, to intravenous trackers placed in each team member's skin, to all of them either dead or incarcerated. He thought Steve would too, but the captain had been too hung up on the idea of an alternative agenda coming from whoever controlled them. A reasonable objection, but easily overpowered by Tony's narcissistic idea that they would have a say in the Accords. And yes, it was narcissistic for Tony no longer wished to be known as the Merchant of Death. He wanted to be recognized as the hero he was, not the warmonger so many believed him to believe. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, Romanoff had been the only other to echo his sentiment. He had truly believed she would side with the captain, but perhaps she too was tired of the amount of red present in her ledger.
Unsurprisingly he had manipulated her to persuade the captain to echo this attitude of accountability, but then Aunt Peggy had died. Romanoff had dissuaded him from attending the funeral, not while tensions were so high with the captain at the moment. He'd not so silently gritted his teeth at the slight. Sure, the great Captain America had been her first love, but Tony had been her godson. That had to count for something! She had been present in his life since the day of his birth, much longer than the eight months Steve had known her. He knew it was petty, especially since he had not paid her a visit in the past decade, but he couldn't help himself. It was just another person's love Captain America had stolen from him; just another individual who would always consider him second rate to the great hero of World War II.
The events of the next forty-eight hours, when everything went to shit, did little to sway him from that sentiment. Instead of using the logic he was all so renowned for, the capsicle went out of his way to turn the Avengers' involvement in the Accords into the world's largest clusterfuck. Not only did he assist Barnes in evading capture, but he also dragged other Avengers down with him. He sent Clint, who was happily retired, to take Wanda from the compound, convinced Wilson to continue down the path towards disaster, and recruited a random nobody who could shrink to the size of a tic-tac. The captain's recklessness and inability to see reason had led to Rhodey's current predicament, and had shown the Widow's true colors.
"We? Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double-agent thing, huh? It sticks in the DNA." Grief over Peggy's death and Rhodey's paralysis had sharpened his tongue, releasing ill-thought of words of spite.
The widow was quick to retort, her voice incredulous, "Are you in capable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?" In that moment he knew he'd lost any respect he'd cultivated since their first meeting. There were only so many slights the widow would endure before releasing her sting.
Said sting didn't damage his ego like the revelation of Barnes not being the culprit of the United Nations bombing; the captain had been right after all. He had quickly flown to The Raft to procure information of Rogers' whereabouts, but doubted it would be enough to regain the soldier's trust. His confirmation occurred when it took three requests for the Winter Soldier to lower his weapon before the captain obliged. They entered an uneasy truce to recover the other winter soldiers; one that was easily broken once Tony learned the truth of his parents' deaths.
The captain had tried to talk him down, but nothing could deter the red he saw. The past three days of solely logical thinking gave way to unbridled rage; inhibiting any and all rational thoughts. All he could focus on was the vengeance he'd receive once he took his mother's murder from the land of the living. The captain was only a side note, an unnecessary blip in his quest for revenge. It was only after he tore off the murderer's metal arm that he realized how foolhardy he had been to dismiss the captain. With a rage to match his own, the captain attacked him until the inventor was left to yield. A position he had involuntarily been forced into, and believed would result in his own death. Never had he seen the captain's dark side, and it was only then that he realized he should never have provoked it. The captain spares him though, leaving him broken on the floor of that concrete bunker; his regrets and thoughts swirling around him. Logically he knows the points the captain made are valid, but emotion clouds his judgement; leaving him with only hate and betrayal in his newly repaired heart.
Tears slip down the soldier's cheeks as he rests a hand on the recently cryo-preserved coffin of his best friend. "Where did it all go wrong?" he silently asks himself. Never has he felt as alone as he does at the moment; depression and anxiety creeping upon him like shackles he can never rid himself of. For it's his fault, it's all his fault. He wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for his own hubris, Bucky wouldn't be in this situation if not for Steve's hubris. Maybe that was why the nuns had preached about the perils of pride; for it truly brought the downfall of man. After all he had a helping hand in the team's destruction, in the civil war that split the avengers apart. Maybe it was his comeuppance for not telling Tony about Bucky's role in his parents' demise, for not practicing the opaque nature he had so often preached. Now his best friend is cryogenically preserved until the unlikely time he will no longer be dangerous, his first love is dead, all who he found comradery with either hate him or are imprisoned, and he has no one to blame but himself. No small part of him wonders how seventy-two hours can create such an impact on his life, on his life.
Three days ago, he had so desperately tried to pull his team from the guilt-stricken slump they had achieved after the failed mission. Then Tony had come bursting in with some "fix-all solution", The Accords. In theory The Accords had seemed prudent, but a quick glance through the legislature had told him it would be towards their detriment to sign. Had Tony known about the superhuman registrations? About the UN's right to remand its heroes to an underwater prison without possibility of lawyer or parole? Or had he glossed over those minor details for the sake of his own guilty conscious? A guilty conscious not unlike Steve's own, but easily persuaded towards detrimental tasks. He knew his response had not been what Stark had expected, what anyone had expected. Captain America was the voice of logic, the voice of reason, but only emotion fueled Steve's answer. He was so tired of always being the voice of reason, especially when it did nothing but bite him in the ass. Too many times had he put his trust in the government, in the decision making of others, only for it to bite him in the ass. Not anymore. The countless betrayals had awoken a cynical nature, and a distrust in individuals in power. There was no guarantee whoever controlled the avengers wouldn't abuse that power or use them for their own agenda. He had voiced this concern to Tony, but it had quickly been shot down by the naïve "Then we'll help control the regulations."
At that moment Steve had realized that Tony would never see things from his viewpoint, he would only wear him down until he conceded. Only Steve wasn't sure he wanted to concede, not when his gut so strongly told him signing The Accords was a mistake. He was befuddled when Natasha chose to side with Tony, she hated corrupt politicians more than he did, but he could not fault her logic. It made sense to do whatever would keep the team together, but he couldn't find it in his heart to surrender to it. He was convinced Tony would utilize every trick in his book to wear him down, but the death of his first love prevented it. His brilliant blue eyes shone with unshed tears as he bore the casket to its final resting place; Margaret Carter, the strongest woman he had ever known had finally left the cold cruel world he found himself trapped in. Sitting in the pew he considered how easy it would be for him to join her, to escape the pain and suffering surrounding him, but a simple event swayed him from action. Bucky Barnes, the only other person he loved so unconditionally, had been framed for bombing the UN. The fallout: a death of an icon, the pacifist king of Wakanda.
In that moment Steve knew he had no other choice, his best friend needed him whether he wished it or not. After a quick conversation with Nat, he grabbed Sam and booked it to Romania. Even at his top speed, he was too late. Bucky was wrongfully imprisoned, and he was under scrutiny. Sitting in the joint defense conference room, he flashed back to the days where the Mother Superior would call Bucky and him into her office to answer for the mischief they had caused. Only the fallout wouldn't be the quick lashes of a ruler across their knuckles. He watched in horror as the fake psychiatrist reactivated the winter soldier, as Bucky attacked his friends. It was only the failure of his friend's escape route that allowed Steve to retrieve him. He and Sam took Bucky to an abandoned auto repair shop, and rigged him to a clamp so he wouldn't break free. After a series of questions only the true Bucky would be answer, Steve's horror increased. The status report the fake psychiatrist had asked for gave the location of more winter soldiers, mind-wiped individuals with only one order: kill. He knew he and Bucky wouldn't be able to track the man down without help so, with a heavy heart, he recruited backup: Clint, Wanda, and Scott Lang -an individual who'd managed to get the drop on Sam.
Unexpectedly their flight towards answers had been interrupted by Tony and his own backup. It had pained Steve to fight, to hurt the people he'd called his friends, but there had been no other option. The imposter needed to be stopped before he unleashed more carnage onto the world, and only Bucky knew where they would find him. But not without sacrifices. All but Steve and Bucky allowed themselves to be captured so the two friends could flee. A flight that would be impossible if not for the widow's understanding. Later, on the plane ride to Siberia, Steve would realize that Natasha had never picked a side. She had only forged her own path, doing what she truly believed was the right thing to do. He could only hope that her moral compass would allow her to accept that she truly was a hero, like the Bucky Barnes he knew and loved.
They had barely reached the compound before Stark interrupted them in the name of a compromise. Steve was hesitant to trust him, but knew he and Bucky would need all the help they could get if the other winter soldiers were awoken. The sight they found shocked them all; the winter soldiers were dead, killed by a bullet to the brain. They had simply been bait to draw them all to this location, so Tony could learn the truth of his parents' demises; of the secret Steve had hidden for the past four years. Bucky had been the weapon used to murder Howard and Maria Stark. He could only imagine how Tony saw it, and quickly tried to talk him down, but his actions were fruitless. Tony was out for blood and would not rest until either he or Bucky were dead. Steve defended his best friend as best he could without hurting Tony, but there was only so much he could do before things came to a head. Stark ripped Bucky's arm off, and the dark side Steve so carefully kept hidden was released.
His fists echoed in tandem with the heartbeat pounding in his ears, and he did not stop his assault until Tony lay under him. Steve raised his shield to deliver the killing blow, to sever the inventor's head, but the look in Tony's eyes stopped him. Suddenly Steve was back in 1942 and Howard had dragged him in for weapons testing. He'd just let Steve pick up the Vibranium shield when Peggy had unloaded a clip at the Captain. Steve couldn't tell who had been more terrified, him or Howard. How would he ever face Howard and Peggy in the afterlife if he killed Howard's son? The action would damn him to hell. With that revelation, he shifted his aim and drove his shield into the reactor of Tony's armor; rendering his armor inactive.
He gingerly wiped the blood from his mouth and helped his best friend to his feet. The only thing that deterred them from their exit was Stark's anguished cry of how Steve didn't deserve the shield. "He's right." Steve thought dejectedly, "The shield is meant for a hero, and I'm not sure that's what I am anymore. Better it remains in Stark's custody, better it be given to someone who could act in the best interest of America instead of themselves." Without a word or a glance back, he dropped the shield at Stark's feet; shedding the skin of Captain America and embracing the imperfect nature of Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers, who was now a fugitive in almost every country, wanted only second in comparison to the notorious Bucky Barnes. Luckily T'Challa had offered them both refuge, and had done everything within his power to help them both. T'Challa believed Bucky did not need to remain on ice, that he would not be a risk to the king's people, but Bucky had disagreed. He had argued that as long as the trigger words had power on him, he would never be safe. Cryopreservation was the only solution. Steve hadn't argued, even though his heart had begged for him to, but he wouldn't stand against his best friend's wishes. Even if it meant that his best friend left him once again, abandoning him to his own lack of self-worth. He had tried to dull the pain by writing Tony a letter, by trying to apologize. He could only imagine how he would have felt if the roles had been reversed, but no matter how many copies he drafted, his words always fell flat. He knew his text would come across as false, condescending even, but he could not find it within himself to pour in the emotion he knew Tony so desperately deserved. He couldn't unlock the barriers around his heart and transfer the contents of his heart into written word. For now, his cold apology would have to do, he had a jailbreak to spring.
And as always there are two sides to the story: the story of logic and the story of emotion. One cannot exist without the other, though both work so desperately to cancel the other out. The yin and yang in a constant battle of dominance, without realizing that happy endings are only a reality when both logic and emotion work in tandem. If not, there is only the chance of heartbreak and despair. And so they say, "Abandon hope all ye who enter here."