This was a little idea that came to me when I was working on my other Marvel fic, "We talked about this." (If you haven't read it, I suggest you go do that now, because I like reviews and I will also give you a cookie if you do) Not entirely sure where this headed, mostly just thinking I would like to explore what happened after the events of Civil War. So lemme know in reviews what you would like to see or think should happen.

"Has she said anything yet?"

Sam, arms folded and leaning against the doorjamb of the gym, shook his head.

"No. You know I would have come and grabbed you."

Sighing heavily, Steve ran a hand over the back of his scalp, scrubbing at his face wearily. When the action did nothing to soothe, he opted for pounding into the sand bag directly in front of him instead. He'd already broken two, and was seriously considering opting for another work out means all together. Still…

It felt good to hit something.

"I should have got back for you all sooner."

"Cap, this isn't on you. Even the great Captain America can't guilt himself for this one. A feat in itself, considering it's basically one of your super powers. They put that in your fancy super serum?"

He managed a weak smile at Sam's teasing, but even that didn't last long. The news channels were hailing it as 'The Civil War' amongst the Avengers, he could go very few places without the government hearing about it, and most of his best friends were now in various forms of distress.

"Listen Man, we're grown ass superheroes. We knew what we were doing. And we'd do it again."

At that, Steve gave the bag one last sucker punch, sand immediately spilling forth from the hole he put in it. Bag number three was down for the count.

"Can Wanda say the same?"

Instead of going for a shower and and a nap like his body was begging for, (he'd been taking his frustrations out in the form of exercise for the last three hours solid) Steve went past the now silent Wilson and headed for Wanda's room, snagging a towel on his way out.

"The sun is shining today. I think you would like it. Not being in enclosed spaces.. If you wanted, I bet there's a park around, maybe we could find one." He'd spared just enough time to clean up in the ensuite attached to the room they'd given to the near comatose girl before stretching out beside her. Steve didn't sleep much these days, which is why he was most often the one to keep watch over Wanda. Or so he told himself.

The truth of the matter was, he was doing it out of guilt. He hadn't been there before, while he and Tony had their little showdown, Wanda had been in the raft. Subjected to unspeakable things, to the point that when he finally had made it back for his team, she'd been in a straightjacket with an electro shock collar around her neck. That's what his country had done to the girl who helped save millions of lives. To an 18 year old young woman who was only just figuring out who she was, who ought to have been in classes or traveling or making dumb mistakes with friends.

Chained up like a dog.

She hadn't spoken a word since. T'Challa's people didn't know what else to do, as physically she had healed well. Her vocal cords were undamaged, it was determined something else was what kept her from making any noises. The guys offered what meagre knowledge they had in an attempt to help. Each had been taken, one at a time, for interrogation. Each had different tactics used, designed to get them to talk. They'd heard Wanda screaming. They'd tried to get to her, and failed. Now,her mind was a vault, and none of them had the key to open the well guarded door.

Sam was as sarcastic as ever, but he'd done his best to keep everyone in high spirits. It hadn't really worked, but the effort was appreciated all the same.

Scott, still in awe at being included in the first place, was more annoyed by Sam and Clint ignoring him then anything. Steve was friendly, T'Challa tolerated him, and the others made a continuous joke of forgetting his name or even that he was there in the first place. When he was feeling more thoughtful, he showed them pictures of his daughter. Tasha had managed to get word to Maggie and Cassie, though he still wasn't sure what was in it for her. His ex-wife was actually proud of him for doing what he thought was the right thing. Cassie had drawn him a picture. He kept it framed, on his bedroom wall and no one so much as snickered.

Clint was angry. No, Clint was furious. The others knew better than to even mention the name Stark around him. He'd gotten word to Laura and the kids, thanks to Natasha who'd appeared just long enough to get them a few safe houses before vanishing once more.

Steve had tried to ask her what happened, after she'd helped he and Bucky escape. He'd tried to thank her.

"You could have ended up in the same place the others did. Not very secret agent-y of you." He'd scolded, as gently as possible. She had come to help them after all. Before going to T'Challa, they'd needed a place to lay low awhile when waiting to get in contact. Natasha had offered that place, a couple of her long forgotten hidey holes became what they called home. One of them had even included a porch swing, the very one they'd spent a few nights rocking in together.

"I'm not a secret Agent anymore, remember? No other faces to hide behind." She replied, sipping her wine. He wasn't much of a drinker, but had accepted a glass to be polite. "Still. That took a lot of guts." He commented. She'd looked at him so strangely then…

And then she'd kissed him.

It wasn't like when they were on the run, or before Shield headquarters had been destroyed. He wasn't sure what it was like. It felt comfortable though. He responded in kind, something soft, a little wistful and tasting of white wine.

"You're a good man Steve. Promise me you won't forget that."

She'd been so serious, but when was she not? He remembered the easy teasing between them, he remembered a lot of days gone by when things were easy. She'd been there when Peggy died too, holding him together, keeping watch so that The Great Captain America might be a heartbroken Steve Rogers. His sadness wasn't for himself then. It was for his friend, who'd been forced into exile because she finally had given herself permission to care.

"I promise." He'd meant it too, at the time.

Now, though, it was a lot harder to remember. Not when he was still trying to find a way out of all this, when he missed Tony more than he would admit to the others. Stark was a cocky bastard, but beneath that his heart had been in the right place. He'd been just as lost and worried as the others, he'd just.. Chosen the more difficult way to go about dealing with it.

At the end of the day, Steve missed his oddball family, his ragtag team. He'd gone Rogue, was best friends with a public enemy. He wouldn't change what he'd done, and would live with the 'd decided that before all this began.

But he hurt all the same.