I Forgive You

Everything he did hurt someone else.

That was what Steve kept thinking, painful and accusatory, in the back of his mind. No matter how right he felt, no matter how hard he tried to do the best he could, he ended up causing pain to others.

After the war, SHIELD had come in and managed to talk the UN into working on a different way of keeping track of powered people. So for now, the Avengers had time to breathe. They used the time to work on repairing Headquarters and gathering intel on Hydra's movements.

And none of them spoke to each other.

Rhodes had died – he'd been killed, really. Tony was, understandably, furious about that, and he blamed Steve. Because it had been Bucky who shot him out of the sky.

So the team decided that for now, the Soldier would be confined to a certain part of Headquarters. Although they trusted him enough to let him have the usual commodities and comforts, it was agreed that even if they could trust him otherwise, having him near Tony would be too much of a risk for all involved.

All of this, Steve knew, was his fault. Although he kept it to himself, he was extremely discouraged and frustrated.

Tony's best friend was dead.

And Steve couldn't fix it.

This was hammered home to him repeatedly by the look on Tony's face, but it hit him hardest one particular Thursday as he was making supper.

Natasha was watching old episodes of Shark Week on the couch, and Wanda was nearby weaving something using her powers. The rest of the team was elsewhere, although Steve knew once Friday announced dinner they'd be there within minutes. He smiled faintly at the thought and checked on the consistency of his cooking pasta.

"Hey."

Steve glanced up. Tony had walked in, carrying a glass of scotch and dressed in grease-covered clothes; he had likely been working on a project in his lab. "Hi," he answered, feeling himself stiffen.

As Tony came over and sat down at one of the bar stools they kept by the kitchen counter, Steve noted that he appeared just slightly unsteady.

Was he drunk?

"You okay, Tony?" Steve asked, frowning.

"Yeah, sure," Tony said sarcastically. "I'm just great, Steve; what do you think? My best friend is dead." He slurred his words slightly, but if he was drunk, he wasn't very.

Steve nodded, looking down. "Right, yeah. Sorry. Dumb question. I just meant… I think you're kinda tipsy."

The billionaire shrugged. "Yeah, a little. What's the big deal? Am I making you feel bad?"

Steve declined to answer, turning back to the stove to stir the spaghetti sauce he was making.

"Okay, yeah, sure, don't look at me. Whatever makes you feel better, Cap," Tony snorted. Steve heard his glass being set down on the counter with a clink, and flinched.

"You didn't drink that on an empty stomach, did you?" Steve asked, glancing at him.

"Who cares? Clearly not you."

Steve gritted his teeth and looked away, stoically adding a dash of oregano to the pasta sauce.

"I get it, I mean, why does it matter who else dies as long as your precious Bucky is safe, right? You don't even care that he killed my best friend. That's freaking messed up, Cap."

"Stop it, Tony," Steve said quietly, turning to face Tony again. "You're drunk. You're going to say something you regret, so why don't you sit down and I'll take that scotch for you."

"Yeah, actually," Tony said, retrieving his drink from the counter and gulping down a mouthful, "I've been wanting to say this for while, so…" He held up the scotch. "This is the only way I could because I felt bad." He snorted. "I felt bad. Like I did something wrong. But I didn't; this time it's on you."

Steve glanced up and noticed the women in the other room watching them carefully; he swallowed and looked back down at his cooking. "Yeah, probably," he said carefully, trying to calm the situation and avoid an argument. "But now's not a good time to talk about this, so how about we get you some water and we can discuss it tomorrow?"

Tony took a step back, shaking his head. Steve reached out and snatched the scotch out of his grasp, dumping it unceremoniously into the kitchen sink. "Look, Capsicle," Tony said, scowling at his empty hand. "You're a good guy, but you're selfish. You wanna protect your friends, fine, but not at the expense of everyone else."

Steve swallowed and simply nodded. "Okay, yeah, great. Sorry."

"Just think about that, Captain America," Tony said bitterly. "You got an American soldier killed because you couldn't see past your old friendship with Barnes to see what a threat he was. That wasn't just selfish, it was stupid. He was too dangerous to be out in the field."

Although everything else Tony had said had hurt, this struck Steve the hardest. What if he really had been wrong? Not wrong to fight, but wrong to give Bucky so much trust. Wrong to assume that he'd be able to control himself. Because Tony was right about one thing: it hadn't turned out well. Because if he was wrong, if he'd assessed things too generously, that really would rest the blame squarely on his shoulders.

He switched off the stove burners and strode out of the kitchen, not exactly sure where he was going but certain that he didn't want to be anywhere near Tony. His head was spinning. It was bad enough feeling guilty, second-guessing every decision he'd made, trying to convince himself that it really wasn't his fault… But what if it was? He started mentally examining every battle they'd been in, every confrontation. Again and again, the grim determination on Bucky's face and his ruthless style of fighting presented themselves to him.

Steve found himself stumbling into one of the conference rooms, leaning forward, hands on the table, shaking. He'd been so busy trying to help Bucky get back his memories (and being grateful for what his friend did remember) that he'd completely ignored the danger signs and unintentionally endangered his whole team.

Rhodey had died because of him.

He pulled out a chair and sank into it, dropping his face into his hands, not sure whether to rage or cry or just let the numbness take him.

He flinched as somebody put their hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, Steve…" It was Natasha.

He tensed. He didn't want her there. Not now. "Don't," he murmured, not looking at her. "Just… don't."

She must have known the whole time. Known what a stupid decision he was making. He wanted to run away.

"Steve, it wasn't your fault," she said, sitting down next to him.

"Yeah, you keep saying that, and you're usually right, but this time…" He glanced at her, then returned his gaze to the top of the table. "We both know Bucky should never have been allowed to fight. I was stupid, Natasha, I just saw what I wanted to see. I-"

"Stop. It's too late to start thinking like that. You need to let it go."

"I can't. You know I can't." He closed his eyes, clenching his fists tight and pressing down against the tabletop as if to anchor himself.

"Yeah, I know you can't, Steve, and that's part of why I love you, but you have to at least try."

Steve blinked.

Straightened.

Shot Nat an almost angry look.

"What?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, her expression half teasing and half sorrowful. "Hey, you weren't listening to me."

"Why would you say that?" Steve snapped. "Why would you say that to me now, after, after…?"

"Because I mean it, Steve. Regardless of the mistakes you make. You tell me that constantly, now it's my turn to tell you. What did you expect me to do, Steve? Turn and run because you made one poor decision?"

He wasn't sure. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't this. He'd been imagining those three words coming out of her mouth for a long time, but not like this. Not when he was responsible for the death of one of their teammates and the return to alcoholism of the other. He shrugged.

She touched his cheek lightly, affectionately, still looking sad. "I'm sorry, Steve. I know it isn't easy, but you have to try to forgive yourself." She rested her head against his shoulder and threaded her fingers through his.

He shook his head. He didn't think he could. "I can try," he said reluctantly. That was all he could promise.

She squeezed his hand. "That's good enough for me."

He put his left arm around her shoulders. "I love you too."

A/N: This one is from a prompt from Tumblr user roaminginspiration: The first time Natasha says "I love you" to Steve - who's been waiting for it to happen for a while but yet didn't see it coming this one time.

The theory in this chapter is that Brutasha and Staron never happened and that Steve and Natasha got together in Age of Ultron like they were supposed to. It was going to be a lot more fluffy and cute, but then I felt like writing some angst, so yeah...