Born Of The Same Impulse
Summary: Barely five minutes into the past and Tony has already taken care of Ultron, thus prevented Sokovia, thus – hopefully – made sure that the Civil War would never happen. All things considered, he was doing pretty well!
Then he just had to look up his fellow superhero turned time traveller on the internet.
Star Surgeon Involved In Car Crash, Condition Unknown
Chapter 18
The android – Vision – didn't leave the tower's labs for more than a few minutes at a time in the wake of receiving his new body. Wanda couldn't begin to guess what sort of tests Stark and Banner were putting him through in order to determine his full functionality.
As if the hours spent in the workshop weren't enough, they asked Stephen to check Vision over, next.
"They're worried," Stephen told her on his way to the labs. "They just want to make sure that Vision is going to be okay."
Wanda supposed that she could understand the sentiment. She wasn't able to think up a comparable situation – Vision's creation was far too unique – but if there had been any chance of Pietro getting hurt, she wouldn't have stopped at anything to prevent it either.
As such, Wanda wasn't surprised when days passed without her catching more than a glimpse of them.
Once the buzz began to die down it was Stark who sought her out in her (no longer locked) room.
Wanda watched him make his way over the threshold and didn't bother trying to puzzle out the swirling mess of emotions in her chest.
A step into her room, Stark paused. He cleared his throat and knocked on the frame next to the door. "Right. Uh... May I come in?"
Wanda's bemusement didn't allow her to do anything but give a jerky nod.
She didn't like the idea of Stark stepping foot in the space that had come to feel like hers – ironic as it was, seeing as she'd cursed the very sight of it only weeks prior. But it was fine. Probably. They'd learned to tolerate being in vague proximity to each other, and Wanda would survive the few minutes it would take Stark to say whatever it was he'd come to say to her.
(Privily, she wondered whether he'd decided that she'd been given too many liberties and would force her to go back to how things were at the beginning. Or try.)
"I wanted to thank you," Stark said. His expression was pinched – in discomfort rather than dishonesty, Wanda could tell – and he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else.
Wanda frowned. "Thank me? For Vision?"
Stark hummed. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't powered the Cradle. Vision might not have made it without you."
Wanda shrugged, feeling horribly out of her depth. This was weirder than any of the interactions she'd had with the other Avengers thus far. "You're welcome," she said, the words tasting wooden and stiff on her tongue.
She hadn't thought about what she was doing at the time. She'd recognized a problem and seen a solution in the form of her powers. Everything that followed had been instinct.
"I mean it." Stark seemed to be making an effort to meet her eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched in a nervous, almost anxiously repetitive motion. "I know this – all of this – isn't exactly ideal. But, um. If there's something I can do to make it, you know. To make it easier... Just say the word."
Wanda averted her eyes when Stark refused to do the same. What was she supposed to say to that? She hadn't had the chance to prepare for this sort of conversation.
"I'll keep it in mind," she muttered, eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. She hesitated, and added a stiff, "Thank you."
There was a pause. With her eyes pointing to the floor, Wanda couldn't begin to guess what Stark was thinking.
What finally came out of his mouth was, "I really am sorry for what happened."
He didn't need to clarify that he wasn't talking about a recent event. He'd told her the same before, back when they'd met for the first time. Wanda hadn't believed him, then. Even if she had, it wouldn't have mattered.
She wondered what exactly had changed.
"I believe you," Wanda said softly.
She watched Stark startle from the corner of her eyes. "What?"
"I believe you. I believe that you're being genuine."
Stark didn't seem to know where to go from there. Wanda didn't much care; she realized that there was something she needed to tell him, not the other way around.
"I've been angry for so long," she said, thinking of crimes she'd committed and sins she'd piled up. She and her brother hadn't let themselves sink to HYDRA's level, but they hadn't been far off. "I believe it's time to focus on something else."
Stark didn't answer immediately. He seemed to be gauging her sincerity – or else trying to catch up with the sudden turn the conversation had taken.
"I'm glad for you," he finally said, and it sounded more genuine than anything he'd said to Wanda before.
Things between them weren't perfect – perhaps they never would be. They were making progress – Wanda was making progress – and she supposed that as long as they were moving forward, she could deal with everything else along the way.
Every time she came to visit him at the tower, Christine looked more and more comfortable walking the same space as aliens and public icons. She was still hesitant to meet any of them ("What would I even say to them?") but Stephen didn't mind.
He got to catch up with his friend more often – Christine was only ever a portal away – and even if she wasn't ready to mingle with the other half of his life, it didn't matter. The two of them made it work.
"You should have been there," Stephen told her, recapping the most exciting parts of the science convention he and Tony had visited – which were many. "One of them developed a new method of modified-release dosages that allow the patient to– What? What is it?"
"Hmm?"
"You're smiling," Stephen said with a pointed hand gesture.
Christine laughed. "What, am I not allowed to?" Her expression dimmed but didn't lose the gentle smile that was painted on her face. "It's nothing."
Stephen raised an eyebrow. "I'll feel left out if you don't let me in on the joke."
Christine shook her head, exasperated. "You look happy, Stephen. I can't remember the last time I saw you this excited about something."
It gave Stephen a pause. "I am. I told you, I like it here."
"Yes, but... this is different. This is better. You were always so passionate about your work, and this... this is the closest to it I've seen you." Christine's smile twisted into something painful. "I was worried about you, you know? I wasn't sure you'd make it back from where you were after the accident."
"I wasn't sure either," Stephen admitted.
It hadn't been easy this time, but at least Stephen'd had the certainty of knowing that he'd managed to fight himself out of his slump once.
Christine's gaze drifted away. The smile on her lips stayed. "I still think you could have done great at the hospital," she said. "But I'm glad you found something else."
For the first time since Christine had brought up the subject, Stephen felt something other than contempt at the thought of an alternate medical position. He was still adamant that consultation was below him – he couldn't quite believe Christine had actually suggested it to him.
Her second suggestion, however...
"Actually, I've been thinking about it," Stephen said.
"Thinking about what?"
"Teaching." He hesitated. "I've been instructing somebody at the tower. Someone who has... the same gift that I do."
Christine's expression faltered the way it always did when he referenced his magic.
Stephen had told her all about it eventually, and she'd had no choice but to believe him after one or two flashy demonstrations. Christine was a woman of science. Any mention of spells and magic conjured up her skepticism – something Stephen didn't hold against her, seeing as he'd been the same upon coming to Kamar-Taj.
"Right. Your... gift." She shook her head mildly. "You've been teaching someone?"
Stephen hummed. "It's working out far better than I expected."
Stephen had wanted to help Wanda redeem herself and deal with the very real threat of a – now former – supervillain at the tower. He'd never expected his lessons to be this much fun.
"I didn't think I'd be the kind of person for it," he admitted.
"Looks like I know you better than you know yourself." Christine's lips twitched.
Warmth settled in Stephen's chest, and he returned Christine's smile easily.
"Doctor Strange." JARVIS interrupted them smoothly. "The team is gathering for a meeting. Mr. Stark has instructed me to invite you."
Stephen hesitated. "How serious is it?"
"There appears to be new information regarding Sergeant Barnes."
Stephen furrowed his brows, trying to work out the timeline – not an easy goal, seeing as he hadn't been personally involved the first time – and guess what JARVIS could be referring to.
No matter which specific event it was, everything concerning Barnes was dire.
"I'm sorry," he said, pushing himself to his feet and waving open a portal for Christine. "I'm afraid this is important."
Christine eyed the portal as though it was about to swallow her whole. "It's, uh. It's fine. Don't worry about me."
"We can catch up another time?"
Christine mustered a smile, tearing wary eyes away from the portal. "I'll hold you to it."
One of Tony's first actions upon reactivating JARVIS had been setting up a subroutine that scanned surveillance and media footage for any traces of Barnes.
With Zemo taken care off almost incidentally – with Sokovia averted, so was his family's death – they'd already made sure that another manhunt courtesy of the American government wouldn't be happening.
Barnes needed to be found for his own sake as much as everybody else's. Hence, the subroutines.
"JARVIS caught pictures of him near the border to Canada," Tony told the team – including Stephen – as soon as they'd all gathered. "He wiped the footage, so we're the only ones who know. We got a head start until Barnes decides to ditch town."
He'd proven incredibly – but not unexpectedly – efficient at avoiding camera lenses. They could count themselves lucky they'd caught his slip up at all.
"We'll take a jet and head over right now," Steve decided. He hadn't yet taken off in a sprint – an impressive feat in terms of self-control, in Tony's opinion. "I'll try to talk him into coming with us, but..." His expression grew tight. "I don't know what sort of mental state he's in."
"If it comes down to it," Sam frowned at Steve, "are we going to take him in by force?"
"We might not have any other choice." Natasha sent Steve an apologetic look. "I know he's your friend. But HYDRA screwing with his head makes him unpredictable."
"I know that." Steve pinched his lips. His brows furrowed, and his eyes twitched towards Tony. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"
Tony raised an eyebrow. "I was the one to call all of you here, wasn't I?"
"That's not what I meant." Worry shimmered through Steve's expression, genuine and clear. "Look, if you need to step away from this mission–"
"Don't be ridiculous," Tony interrupted. "We're doing this. All of us."
Steve's frown deepened. Ever since Tony had revealed that he knew about Barnes' involvement in his parents' death, the topic had been even more uncomfortable than it had already been.
Tony rolled his eyes, doing his best to emit nonchalance. "I'm not gonna start throwing punches as soon as I lay eyes on Barnes."
"I didn't think you would," Steve denied.
Oddly enough, Tony actually believed him. "Come on," he said, leading the way to the plane. "Let's get this show on the road."
Tony kept insisting that he was fine. Steve wanted to believe him – he genuinely did. But the cracks that secrets had formed within the team were fresh, and Tony wasn't as over his parents' death as he wanted them to think.
Steve was afraid that Tony was pushing himself too far for Steve's sake. Maybe he'd even convinced himself that he was fine. Maybe he genuinely thought that he was over it. Steve could tell that something was nagging at his teammate, and Tony was fully intending to let it continue to eat at him, rather than put his trust in his team and allow them to help.
Considering Steve had done exactly the same until Tony had thrown his secret into the open, he couldn't blame him one bit. If only Steve knew what was holding Tony back, maybe he'd be able to help.
Trust was a two way street, Steve reasoned, so maybe the trick to get Tony to open up to him was to open up to Tony in return.
It took Steve the bulk of their plane ride to muster up the courage he needed. He picked a moment when Tony was as far away from the others as he was going to get and braced himself, willing the nerves fluttering wildly in chest to calm down.
"After I woke up," he blurted out before he could manage to talk himself out of it, "the first time they showed me a picture of you I was excited. You looked so much like Howard."
Tony stared at him, perplexed. "Uh. Okay?"
Steve swallowed hastily and plowed on. "I, uh. I felt... lost, back then. You were the first link to my past. Or I thought you were. I wanted you to be."
Tony was silent.
"It turned out that you aren't anything like Howard," Steve continued. "It wasn't fair of me to place expectations on you like that. I... should have tried harder to get to know the person you are, not the one I wanted you to be. I'm sorry I didn't see that then."
There was a pause.
"Okay," Tony said. "Well. Apology accepted, I guess?" He frowned. "Look, not that I don't appreciate... this. But this was years ago, and it hasn't been an issue for ages. How come?"
Tony tried to meet his gaze, and Steve looked away instinctively.
"Wait, is this about what happened?" Tony's brows dropped into a mild scowl. "Seriously? Look, that thing with Barnes, it... Yeah, it wasn't fun, I admit it. But that doesn't mean I need you to dig up every scrap of dirt spilled between us and apologize for it."
Steve felt a blush creep up his face. "I don't know what else to do," he admitted. He chewed on his lip, considering. He decided to take a leap of faith. "I haven't told anyone about this before, but–"
"Woah, hold on." Tony looked mildly alarmed. "You don't need to– I mean, don't feel like the only way for this to be resolved is to spill all your dirty secrets to me. Seriously. You don't need to."
"I want to, though," Steve said, quietly. "Please?"
He'd helped creating this mess in the first place by keeping secrets and forcing Tony to bring them into the open himself. There wouldn't ever be the perfect opportunity to make up for it, so Steve's best chance was to wing it and hope for the best.
With any luck, Tony would realize that he was being serious.
Tony's lips tightened, but he gave a curt nod.
Steve took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
"Back in the 40s, I only relied on Bucky. We'd known each other for years, and... and for a long time, we were all each other had." He had to look away. "When he... when he died, there wasn't really anyone to take that place. I had the Howling Commandos and, and Peggy, but... it wasn't the same. And then even those were gone."
Tony didn't try to interrupt, so Steve kept going, his voice subdued and quiet.
"When I woke up in the future, I'd never felt this alone before. Everybody I knew, they were... gone. Or as good as. And the, the Avengers, they... you were the first people I finally started to trust again. Not immediately, not after that first fight, but... eventually. I love being part of this team."
Steve let out a breath, psyching himself up for the next part.
"Then I found out Bucky was still alive. I saw him, and it was like... it was like I was flung back into the past and there were only him and me. I was afraid of losing him all over again. I... had a hard time remembering that I had other people to rely on – and I didn't try especially hard. Natasha knew, but that was only because she happened to be there. If she hadn't been, I'd have kept it from her, too. If I could have, I'd have done it all on my own."
"I bet you would have," Tony said, maybe out of a need to say anything at all.
"I'm not saying it was smart, or reasonable or... anything, really." Steve hesitated. "When... the video of your parents popped up, I... I was terrified, Tony. I should have told you right then, but... I was terrified I'd have to put myself between you and Bucky. I thought... I didn't want to face you. I didn't want to take the chance that you would... take it badly. That you would take revenge."
Steve shook his head. "Look, I'm not saying this to make you forgive me. I just wanted to... I, I thought–"
"Hey," Tony interrupted, his voice softer than it had been earlier. "Nothing wrong with wanting to tell your side of the story." He didn't meet Steve's eyes, and he didn't try to say more.
Steve's throat felt dry after all the talking.
Tony seemed to be wringing with himself, chewing on his lips and looking into the distance. Weighing options.
He seemed to come to a decision and braced himself, meeting Steve's gaze. "Steve, I..."
Sam poked his head through the door and interrupted him. "Suit up, people. We're almost there." He paused. "You good?"
"We're ready," Steve said, swallowing down disappointment. "On our way."
Sam nodded, ducking back and disappearing from sight.
There was a pause.
"Thank you for telling me," Tony said, heaving himself to his feet. "Let's take care of this, and afterwards..." He paused. "Steve, take my word for it: once all of this is over, I'll return the favor.
A/N: If you feel like reading a Spider-Man-centric, angsty social media fic, I highly recommend 8 minus 1 from JustAnotherOutcast on ao3. It's incredibly creative, wonderfully angsty and the characters are a delight!
Beta'd by the wonderful To Mockingbird, PyrothTenka and Igornerd!
Please take a moment to let me know what you think!
~Gwen