Steve slumped against the closed door of the cabin, shutting out his team and the world. Things had been going so well, so peaceful in comparison to the usual standard the Avengers lived with. It had all gone to hell in a second on the back of a name hissed in recognition.

Rogers glanced up when he felt eyes on him. His gaze locked with the wolf, who was hovering at the top of the stairs. A million emotions ran over Steve's face: betrayal, disappointment, anger, self-doubt and knowing now that the wolf was almost human, he knew he could see the same things reflected back at him.

Pushing himself away from the door, the blond squared his shoulders and spat, "You've got two minutes to explain why I shouldn't tell Thor to come back here and drag you back to wherever it is you came from."

Fenrir cocked his head to the side as if he could see into Steve soul and learn the truth of the words. "I'm innocent," started Fenrir.

Steve felt his hands coil into tight fists as he rolled his eyes. Didn't the bad guys usually start by proclaiming their innocence? He turned and headed into the living room, the soft padding sound of the wolf's paws scurrying down the stairs in the background.

"You know, I sat there silently listening to you go on about your problems with your friends," protested Fenrir like an offended teenager.

"You had to be silent or else you would have given away the fact that you're not an ordinary wolf. Then you'd have to explain you're an Asgardian and worse yet, you're Loki's son. It's a lie, a lie by omission to save yourself but a lie none the less," argued Steve. He flopped down on the couch, angry and betrayed yet something in him felt comfortable enough to lower his guard slightly.

"What's father done now?" asked the wolf, curiosity tempering his furry at the sudden hostility facing him.

The question caught Steve off guard. Loki had been a major moment in history and according to Thor the repercussions of that battle and their subsequent dealings had far reaching effects in the universe. "We kind of take world domination and alien armies rather personally around here," snapped the blond. To shrug off Loki like some tantrum throwing child, even if that's what he was, was insulting; the devastation and death he brought deserved some respect no matter what side of the battle you aligned with.

"That does sound like him," sighed Fenrir, "but I couldn't possibly know what he's be schemeing of late."

"You didn't know that your father had returned with an army to claim a planet that your uncle..." Fenrir curled his lips letting out a low growl at the mention of Thor but Steve continued on as though the interruption never happened. Clearly there was no love loss within the house of Odin. "...Had laid claim of protector to?"

"The house of Odin." The words were spat with more distain than Rogers had ever heard for anything, Nazi's included. "Let me tell you what the house of Odin thought fit to do to me. Whispers spread through those hallow halls that someone was planning to betray the Allfather. Odin chose to seek the council of a powerful sorceress to try and learn the identity of his future betrayer. The sorceress claimed that I would kill Odin, feasting on his bones and hailing the call for Ragnarok. So what did your merciful Thor and company do? They made me a prisoner, tied me down and when I protested, I had a giant sword placed between my jaws so I couldn't defend myself and there they left me for centuries. No one asked me if it was true; I was condemned on a word of a sorceress. So forgive me if I wasn't able to keep up on current events with my family," snarled Fenrir.

"For centuries?" whispered Steve, unsure he heard the statement correctly. He knew Thor was old, but how could anyone condemn another being without a trail for that long, let alone a family member.

"Centuries!" the wolf emphasized, his hatred coming through loud and clear.

That didn't sound like the Thor Steve had come to know. The Asgardian seemed to seek out justice and honor but if what Fenrir was claiming was true, and the state he found the creature supported its story, then there must be a missing piece to the puzzle forming. Steve felt like a dog chasing its tail trying to find the truth between two vague stories. He needed more information from Thor than what the thunder god had said earlier but his head was spinning.

"Thor wants to take me back. What do you plan to do?" the wolf asked, curiosity and tentative trust coloring his features.

"Just," Rogers raised his hand to stop Fenrir from interrupting, "stay in my bedroom and away from the team. I need time to think. We can decide what's going to happen tomorrow." With that, Captain America made the exhausting climb upstairs to an unoccupied bedroom and locked himself away, seeking silence to calm his racing mind. He had meant to give the subject some serious thought but once he collapsed on the bed he retreated into a deep slumber leaving the chaos behind for awhile.


The resounding thud of the bedroom door as it bounced off the wall woke Rogers with a start. His head snapped up to see a tightly wound and pissed off Stark glaring down at him. He blinked a few times to get the alarm clock display into focus, letting out a sigh he dropped his head back onto the pillow, unable to believe he had been woken at such an early hour. The Captain had to do a double take at the clock; Tony Stark didn't do mornings and he sure as hell didn't do seven am.

"What do you want Tony?" mumbled Steve through his pillow. He had crashed hard after the events of yesterday but even a solid night's sleep couldn't wipe the irritation from his voice.

"I don't know what the hell is going on between you and Barton, but if you broke our archer..." scolded the billionaire, his arms crossed to emphasize his disdain for the situation.

Steve scoured his mind frantically trying to follow what the other man was talking about. A deep sinking feeling filled his guts as he realized the team must have figured out the grisly events that unfolded during the arctic fiasco. It was almost a relief that it would all finally be out in the open, that they would all know the truth. Frankly he was surprised that Natasha hadn't told them when Clint had failed to shout Rogers failures to the world, but both assassins had seemed to be mum on the issue, leaving the Captain to fester in his own guilt. Perhaps that was a worse punishment than anything they could come up with. "Barton?" he slurred, trying to shake the sleep from his head and attack the problem with crystal clarity.

"Yes Barton!" spat Tony, "how many archers do you know?"

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and swung his legs over the side of the bed. If he was going to face the firing squad, he wasn't going to do it lying down.

"In case you were wondering," started Tony with his usual snugness of being constantly right, "he didn't come back last night. Neither did Thor, but I didn't expect him to."

Fear flashed through the blond bursting like fireworks across his skin as a hundred worse case scenarios bombarded his mind. "Barton didn't come back?" he asked, his voice echoing the tremble that ran through him. He knew the man was pissed but common sense should have brought him back to a warm bed and roof over his head rather than cooling his heels god knows where. The poachers were still out there. They had been undeterred or unaware that they had picked a fight with Captain America; Steve severely doubted they would hesitate to go after Clint even if they knew he was an Avenger. Hawkeye had demonstrated that he could hold his own against impossible odds, but the man still wasn't at a hundred percent from last time, the hated crutches and obvious knee brace made sure to remind everyone of that fact.

The leader of the Avengers was a flurry of motion as he scrambled to pull a shirt on and grab his boots. Odd were the archer was fine, having snuck back into the cabin after everyone had gone to bed or called Natasha and was currently sitting back at Stark Tower but that little voice of doubt was whispering in Steve's ear. What if something happened and he needed help, but Steve didn't check it out?

"You're sure he's not back?" Hope colored his voice as he paused for Stark's answer.

"I'm not a child Steven, of course I looked before I busted in here. Besides, I stayed up all night waiting for the team to return."

That answered the question as to why the billionaire was up so early. Steve would file away the personal condemnation from the man for a later; hopefully there would be a later for him to kick himself for letting Barton slipping through the cracks again. He barely had his boots tied before he pushed past Stark, taking the stairs three at a time.

"Fix this Rogers!" shouted Tony before the front door slammed shut behind Steve.

The blond took off at a jog following the trail he had seen Clint storm off down yesterday. With any luck, he would be able to pick up his teammate's trail but he had no delusions that if the master assassin didn't want to be found, it wouldn't matter how hard Steve looked, he would come up empty.

Everyone wanted Captain America to fix their problems but they all seemed to have every critique in the world on how he did it. Fury wanted him to be a hero but didn't like the fact that Steve felt more comfortable taking a low key existence between missions. The team wanted a leader but didn't like the calls he made. His so called fans wanted him to be a perfect representation of justice and truth but when he tried to put the world first, he lost people he cared about, he lost what mattered to him and all in the name of the greater good. He wanted to curl up and shut the world out, let everyone else deal with the problems of the world but his conversation with Peggy about why he wanted to be a part of the project echoed in his head. No matter what, he owed it to the people who mattered to try, despite the consequences.

The forest turned into a blur of green as he pushed himself faster, twisting and turning around the landscape, going deeper and deeper into the brush. The sharp and decisive, "Stop," grabbed his ears causing Steve to come to an abrupt stop, almost tumbling over his own feet. With strained ears he intently listened for another cry, desperately trying to slow his breathing and calm the pounding in his chest. The forest was hauntingly silent as he waited.

"Stop!"

It was unmistakably Clint's voice, but the one word wasn't enough to pinpoint the direction it was coming from.

"Don't do it," Barton warned from somewhere in the brush.

Rogers frantically took off in the direction it sounded like it was coming from. The trees were thick and the rocky hills and cliffs could have been misdirecting the sound. Images of the poachers inflicting pain upon his teammate in some desperate attempt to satisfy their ego and seek revenge through collateral means raced through his mind. The bushes and branches snapped at Rogers' arms and legs as he pushed forward.

The blonde's fear was building, the only thing he could see were more trees and forest floor but no sign of his distressed teammate. A sharp snap pulled Steve's focus over to the left, followed by a series of crackles. Subtle wisps of smoke were weaving their fingers through the trees; whoever had Barton had a fire going. Like a homing beacon, Steve followed the smoke back to the fire and hopefully a minimally injured Hawkeye.