Despite the whole team laying low there, and the countless Avengers staff, the Facility felt very, very empty without Bucky. It was strange, considering how quiet he normally was. But they all felt it: an empty space in the common room, an abandoned suite in the private wing, the absence of a pair of watching sea-grey eyes. The sofa chair in Maggie's workshop felt like it was staring at her whenever she worked alone in there.

Bucky checked in once a week, always on an irregular schedule. Maggie had given Steve the receiver for the phone Bucky carried with him, and Steve always told her when Bucky checked in: a single word, SOTERIA, each time. I'm safe. It wasn't enough for either Maggie or Steve.

For her part, Maggie veered between anxiously deconstructing every single millisecond of that last moment outside her workshop and kicking herself for being an absolute hormonal idiot, and... just wishing he would come back. She had no idea what she'd do when he came back. But she knew things would be different.

Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Or maybe, she had absolutely lost her mind.

One slightly nice aspect of Bucky's absence was that Steve and Maggie grew closer again; things had been cooler between them since Ultron, but mutually missing the dark haired former assassin rekindled the easy friendship they'd forged after the Battle of New York. Especially with little else to do other than lay low in the Facility, it was nice to share meals and stories with a friend. The modern world weighed heavy on Steve, she could tell; he was a little more jaded and grim than the young man she'd gotten to know on the SHIELD helicarrier all those years ago.

Wana slowly emerged from her room more often, and though the shadows under her eyes had faded, she had reverted to the quietness that had shrouded her when she first moved in. She wore guilt like a heavy cloak. Vision hovered, tentative and concerned about them all, and Rhodey did his best to 'be the normal one', as he put it. Sam was in and out more than any of them, and always a welcome sight when the atmosphere in the Facility grew too heavy. Natasha seemed to handle things with perfect composure, though who knew how much of that was an act. Clint visited once or twice.

Tony rarely visited. Maggie had to go to him, these days.

The weeks slowly passed, as the pressure from the world outside mounted. The media controversy and coverage of the Accords seemed to have no limit; each new day there was another aspect to the debate, another piece of information torn apart. Politicians and journalists and lawyers and peacekeepers weighed in. The UN were due to meet towards the end of the next month, though the agenda had not been set yet. No part of the Accords had yet been publicly released.

Tony turned 46 at the end of May, and four days later Maggie turned 30. She was so busy with keeping work at the Facility running that she barely registered the birthday at all. Tony sent her an outrageous bouquet of flowers, and the next weekend Pepper took her out for lunch to celebrate.

On their way out of the restaurant, a man spat at Maggie. Most people on the street stared, shock and horror on their faces, but Maggie could only see the anger and hatred in the man's eyes, veiling his grief. Who did you lose? she wanted to ask, but Pepper had already whisked her away to clean her up.

The day after that was the one month anniversary of the Lagos disaster. The 24/7 news cycle ran memorials and coverage all day, and without a spoken agreement, the team gathered in the common room, the TV screens pointedly off. Maggie watched Wanda pretend to read a book, her eyes fixed rigid on one page for almost an hour.

June 19, 2021

Maggie was in the gym when Tony called. She'd opted to run at a dead sprint on the treadmill for as long as possible; the King of Wakanda had broken his silence this morning, demanding accountability for the Lagos disaster and backing the UN - eleven of his citizens on an outreach mission had died in the Lagos explosion. Maggie had seen the clip when she woke up: the King was a calm, yet captivating speaker, and very persuasive. His speech had got the news in a furor all over again. Rumors about the Accords ran wild.

Running was easier than thinking.

So she was near-breathless when her phone rang. She hopped onto the side of the treadmill, sweating and gasping, and hit accept call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Maggot. I'm on my way over to the Facility now."

She fought for breath. "Now? What for?"

"Impromptu team meeting. Rogers already knows, he's expecting me."

"Okay…?"

"So take your curlers out, and be in the briefing room in 30."

"You can't tell me what to do," she said instinctively.

"Hey," he said, and there was a funny note in his voice. "You and me, we're good, right?"

She sighed and wiped her forehead. "Of course we are, Tony." She almost said you and me, right? But she was still a little annoyed with him for his impulsiveness last month. And the distance he'd been keeping. "See you soon."

Bucharest, Romania

The Romanian language came easily to Bucky as he walked through Bucharest's Old Town with his hands in his pockets and his face shrouded by a baseball cap. He'd only arrived this morning. The language brought with it memories of speaking the same tongue a lifetime ago: there'd been a few missions here, he recalled, the bloodiest being a shootout during an asset retrieval mission in the 1989 Revolution. He was here to walk the routes he'd walked before, and to observe - from afar - the lives of those who'd survived him. And to visit the graves of those who hadn't.

The journey so far hadn't been easy, but each new place he visited only confirmed that he'd made the right decision to leave. Gone was the crippling uncertainty about his path, about the right decision to make. Even where he could do little to make amends for his former crimes, at least he was doing something. And movement reduced the gnawing worry that he would never grow beyond his past.

He turned on the phone Meg had given him once a week to send his regular check-in message, and so far had not received anything back, as agreed. Nothing from them meant nothing bad had happened. Still.

He missed Steve.

He missed Meg, with her warm brown eyes and her easy laugh and brilliant mind. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think about that last moment with her roughly ten times a day: the way her breath had hitched, and she hadn't backed away. The way his brain seemed to short out, because for months he'd been holding back those feelings for her without a single clue that she could possibly feel the same. The smooth warmth of her hand on his face, with just the slightest roughness of the calluses on her engineer's fingers. The way her breath felt on his skin.

Bucky shook himself as he turned a corner down another cobbled street, heading to his safe house.

It had probably been a mistake - an error in judgement by two people overwhelmed by a goodbye.

I'll be back soon.

I know.

God help him, he couldn't wait to go back and see if she might be willing to try that same mistake again.

The Avengers Facility

Maggie had showered and changed, and was heading across to the briefing room when Steve, Vision, and Wanda entered the corridor ahead of her.

"Hey," she called, jogging to catch up, but hesitated when she noticed the gravity on their faces.

"Did you know about this?" Steve asked, a furrow in his brow.

"What, Tony coming? He called."

"No, I mean Secretary Ross."

She frowned at him.

"Mr Stark has invited the Secretary of State to meet with us," Vision said in his even voice.

Her eyebrows rose. "Okay, I didn't know that." She looked down at her jeans, then scratched her head. "Okay. Jeez."

"What do you think he wants?" Wanda asked, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

Maggie met Steve's eyes, and he mouthed: Bucky?

She shook her head. Bucky had checked in only a couple of days ago. And if he had been found, it wouldn't be Ross coming to meet with them - it'd be the CIA, or the Joint Terrorist Task Force. And Tony wouldn't spring that on them without warning, she didn't think. She grit her teeth. "There's only one thing I can think of."

Secretary Ross was already in the briefing room when they arrived. He stood at the end of their dark wooden meeting table in an expensive suit; Rhodey, Sam, and Natasha had arrived as well, and sat at the table with guarded expressions on their faces. Tony sat in the back corner, on a chair pulled away from the table.

Ross looked up with a smile as the rest of them filed in. "Lovely to meet you all." He reached out to shake Steve's hand first, and in return got a firm nod. Then he turned to Maggie. "Ms Stark. Nice to see you again."

He took her hand and shook it, and Maggie held his gaze. She'd worked with Ross before, when he'd been a US Army General and she'd been one of Stark Industries' top weapons engineers, just out of college. He'd been hardheaded and demanding back then, a proper army man.

She didn't necessarily recognize that man today: he'd aged, with streaks of silver in his pale hair and more lines in his face, but… the smile on his face was new, and the readiness and patience in his eyes. This new smile and charm was unsettling. Somewhere along the way, he'd learned new tricks.

"Secretary Ross," she murmured in reply, then let go of his hand and strode over to the empty seat between Nat and Rhodey. She glanced over at Tony as she found her seat, and she frowned in question at him. He sat with a grim look, his hands folded in front of him. And he just jerked his chin at her chair.

Maggie sat, still frowning.

There were four Secret Service agents spaced about the room, with wires in their ears and their hands clasped in parade rest. Maggie scanned over them. Their weapons were visible. She met Nat's eyes, who merely returned the gaze, unreadable.

Wanda, Vision, and Steve took their seats, and after a dramatic pause, Ross started to talk.

He didn't speak in the straight-cut way he'd used to, when he would march into Stark Industries and demanded weapons. He started instead with an anecdote about his heart attack, drawing their attention in, before segueing into what he had come for:

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives," he said in his low, steady voice. "But while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some… who prefer the word vigilantes."

"And what word would you use, Mr Secretary?" Natasha asked, a half-smile on her face.

"How about dangerous?" he suggested. "What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders, and inflict their will wherever they choose, and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind." He didn't speak with anger, or bluster, but a calm seriousness. Even as his words made her stomach churn, Maggie realized she no longer wondered how he'd gotten his job.

He stepped aside, and she realized he'd brought a presentation. The screen behind him flashed.

New York.

Buildings falling, people screaming. Rhodey turned away and looked past Maggie, at Steve.

Washington, D.C.

The Helicarriers falling as people ran from the debris. Sam looked down.

Sokovia.

Novi Grad rising, more buildings falling to the ground.

Lagos.

The smoking building, ambulances, a dead girl on the ground.

Steve cut Ross's presentation short, and it took Maggie a few moments to tune back into what Ross was saying. She blinked when he produced a blue-and-white bound sheaf of paperwork and set it down in front of Wanda. "The Sokovia Accords."

Maggie sat up straighter, staring at the document. "They've been drafted?"

"And finalized," Ross confirmed with a glance at her. "Hot off the press."

Wanda slid the booklet over to Rhodey and Maggie.

THE SOKOVIA ACCORDS
Framework for the Registration and deployment of enhanced individuals

Down the bottom of the booklet it read: Registered by the United Kingdom of Great Britain, Austria, Germany, Russia, Italy, France, Northern Ireland, and the United States of America.

Ross circled the table. "Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary." His voice had risen slightly, the tone of the old General seeping in.

Steve objected, saying the Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place, and Ross shot back by calling Thor and Bruce 'a couple of 30 megaton nukes'. Maggie's frown deepened.

"Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords," Ross said as he circled back to his end of the table. Maggie looked up. Three days? She'd known they were meeting, but she didn't realize it was to finalize the Accords. She frowned. Someone's been pulling the wool over our eyes. She sensed Steve at the end of the table, staring back at Tony.

Ross looked over them all with his glinting, patient eyes. "Talk it over." He made to leave, his agents following after him, but then paused when Natasha called over him:

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?"

He stared back at her. "Then you retire," he replied, as if it was obvious.

Maggie bit the inside of her cheek.

Cleveland, Ohio

Helmut Zemo walked away from the dead body of Colonel Karpov, his jaw clenched and a thin red book clutched in his hand.

I'd have to use this book and other, bloodier methods to find what I need, he'd said to Karpov before he killed him. You'd only be dying for your pride.

Karpov had died silent, loyal to the Nazi organization he'd fought and killed for.

Zemo's fingers tightened on the book. So be it.

The team had relocated to the common room. Maggie sat on one of the single sofa chairs, her hair tied back messily and a copy of the Accords open on her lap - Ross had left them with a whole stack, as well as the contracts for them to sign.

Sam and Rhodey were standing behind Steve's couch, arguing, as Steve flipped through his own copy of the Accords with a grim expression on his face. Natasha listened, exasperated, and Wanda and Vision sat quietly side by side. Tony was on the other single sofa chair, with his collar unbuttoned and one hand over his eyes. They'd been arguing over this for twenty minutes already.

Maggie half-listened to Sam and Rhodey as she leafed through the Accords document. She didn't think the frown had left her brow since Ross showed up.

"How long is it before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?" Sam demanded.

"Section 2D," Maggie murmured. She'd just read it: Those with innate powers (see: appendix IV) must also wear tracking bracelets at all times.

Rhodey talked over her: "117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you're just like, 'no, that's cool, we got this'-"

Vision cut in to explain his theory that the existence of the Avengers had caused an increase in potentially world-ending events, and Maggie looked up from her reading a moment to listen to him, her heart falling. She'd always trusted Vision's impartiality and judgement, since the day he'd been created.

"Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe," he said, eyeing them all seriously. "Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

Maggie looked down, her lips pressed together. She couldn't deny that. And she couldn't deny that there were sections in this document that made sense to her. The document was currently open to section 5B:

Governments are forbidden from deploying enhanced individuals outside of their own national borders unless those individuals are given clearance as described above. The same rule also applies to non-government organizations that operate on a global scale (including the Avengers).

She thought of other organizations that had resisted oversight and external accountability: governments, police forces, armies. Is that what we'll sound like, if we resist this? Like liars and tyrants?

Natasha made some comment to Tony about him not saying much, and he slowly rose and wandered into the kitchen. He looked tired, and his frustration spilled over as he complained about the coffee grounds in the disposal. Maggie knew for a fact that that had been Wanda, but kept her mouth shut.

Then he projected an image from his phone. Maggie blinked at the image of a young boy, smiling at someone off-screen. It was such a diversion from their current topic of conversation that she almost closed the Accords booklet.

Tony let them stare at the image for a second.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way." Maggie instantly distrusted the casual calm in his voice. "He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do, he didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun." Tony poured himself a coffee and faced them fully.

"He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia." He stared at them all, hard. Maggie ran a hand over her mouth. She'd heard this heavy, low tone to his voice before. Tony didn't shout when he got angry. "He wanted to make a difference, I suppose, only we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass."

A heavy silence fell.

"There's no decision making process here," Tony crossed his arms. "We need to be put in check," he said in a louder voice. "Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, then we're no better than the bad guys."

Maggie swallowed hard. He'd been avoiding her eye.

"Tony," Steve said exasperatedly. "Someone dies on your watch, you don't give up."

"Who said we're giving up?" Tony challenged.

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions." Steve pointed down at the Accords. "This document just shifts the blame."

Rhodey cut in: "Sorry, Steve, but that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about, Steve. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA-"

"No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change-"

"The UN hasn't always succeeded either, Rhodey," Maggie cut in, but then Tony stepped forward and talked over her:

"Agendas changing is good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing."

That set them off arguing again, about choices, and what the panel would and wouldn't let them do, and repercussions if they didn't sign, and Maggie rubbed her eyes to try to stop her head from spinning. She barely heard Natasha agree with Tony, with her if we have one hand on the wheel we can still steer argument.

Maggie let out an explosive sigh and leaned forward. "What if we're looking at this wrong? The Accords isn't just a… a check box, it's a set of legal documents. And those change." She looked up at Tony. "I agree with the principle here, you know I do. But who do we talk to about making amendments? There's some things in here I have questions about-"

He tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not up to us to amend things."

"Shouldn't it be?"

"117 countries," Rhodey reminded her.

She frowned. "But - if you skip to section 36, for example, it-"

Tony turned to face her fully. "Maggot, you can't sit on the fence for this one," he urged. "You - I get that you want us to work together, but there's no middle here. You did this with Loki, you even did it with Ultron."

Maggie sat back, wide-eyed. He was right, she had always been in the middle between him and Steve. Whenever there'd been an argument she'd been caught halfway, trying to play peacemaker. She still remembered that fight on the Helicarrier, before Loki had attacked - she'd been snapping at Tony one moment to quit snarking and pushing back against Steve the next. She remembered what Tony had said to her: Will you step up, here? At least it'd be something, instead of sneaking around in the shadows.

Even with SHIELD she'd had one foot in and one foot out the whole time.

Still, she couldn't believe Tony was snapping at her like this.

His expression and voice softened. "But… you need to make a decision here," he gestured at her. "And I can't make it for you, but god I hope you make the right one." He looked around at them all. "I hope you all do."

Steve had been frowning down at his phone through this speech, and without looking up at any of them he murmured: "I have to go." He dropped the Accords and walked out before anyone could question him.

Maggie frowned, twisting in her chair to watch him go. She remembered Bucky's words to Steve, from months ago: You've never backed down from a fight in your life.

She sat there a few more moments, overwhelmed and frustrated, until her phone rang. She sighed, glancing around at the others - they'd dispersed a little and devolved into almost teasing each other, clearly realizing no headway was being made. She stood up and slipped out of the room. They weren't getting anywhere, and everyone needed to calm down.

She stepped out a different door than Steve had left from, and answered her phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling from the Marilyn Court Retirement Home."

Peggy's care home.

"Oh, I… yes, if it's Peggy asking to call me, could it possibly wait half an hour or so?" Maggie rubbed her forehead. But she hadn't spoken to Peggy in weeks, she'd been too unwell recently…

There was a brief pause. "I'm afraid not. I'm very sorry to be passing on this news, but…"

Maggie told Tony, once she was able to get him alone.

He sagged even further.

"Shit," was all he said.

"Yeah," she agreed, a little numb. She could tell her eyes were red, but she reached up to swipe away more tears all the same. "They, um, they told me they'd be in touch with funeral arrangements soon, but that it'd probably be back in the U.K. But…"

He looked at her, shadows under his eyes. "You know I don't do funerals, Mags. I'm sorry."

She nodded. Tony hadn't been to a funeral since the Jarvises. He liked to joke that the next funeral he would actually attend would be his own.

There wasn't much else to say. They stood there for a few moments, the news hanging over their shoulders and the still-ongoing argument unspoken in the air around them. But then Tony opened up his arms.

Maggie stepped gratefully into his hug, and wrapped her arms around him in return.

She found Steve by the river, two hours later.

He'd disappeared himself pretty thoroughly. Everyone had retreated to their own spaces, recognizing the need for a break, and the news about Peggy had slowly filtered through the Facility. An hour ago, the Carter family had made an official press release, and Maggie had had to turn her phone off to avoid the news alerts.

Maggie felt unmoored. She had a copy of the Accords in her room, potentially no job and no team, and now this. There was no clear path she could see.

Well, except for this.

Steve sat alone on the bare rocky shore of the river a good six miles from the Facility. His hands dangled over his knees, and his back bowed inward, slumping his neck forward. She could tell his eyes were on the river. He hardly moved, but she could see his chest rising and falling.

He heard her crunching footsteps and looked over briefly, before snapping his head back toward the river in frustration. He had to wait for her to grow closer before he called:

"Maggie, not now."

She kept walking.

Seconds later his head tipped back and he called again: "Really, can you just - not now. Go back to the Facility."

"I know," she said, picking her way across the rocks to him. "I know, you want to be alone, but I'm an asshole, and… you don't have to say anything. I'm just gonna sit right here."

She finally made it to him, and sat down a few yards away. The ground was supremely uncomfortable, but eventually she managed to sit cross legged on the damp stones. She peeked sideways at Steve: he sat staring at the river, and she didn't know why the tears on his face surprised her. His eyes were red raw with crying, a lost look on his face as he stared at the blank water.

She'd for some reason expected him to be the stoic, keep-it-all-in type. But he'd never really been like that, had he? Steve Rogers wore his heart on his sleeve.

She wanted to go over and hug him. She wished Bucky was here. He'd know what to say. What could you say, to someone who had lost what Steve had?

"Go back to the Facility," he tried again. There was nothing in his voice: no anger, or heat.

Maggie took a breath. "She wouldn't want you to be alone."

He bowed over, putting his head in his hands and her heart dropped when she realized he was crying again. She scooted toward him over the stones, scraping her fingers. He didn't offer up any resistance when she sat right beside him and wrapped her arms around him. He was almost too big for her to hug, but she managed it awkwardly, rubbing one hand over his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," she murmured. He took a shaky breath and leaned in to her, just a little. She didn't say anything else.

They sat together on the river shore for a long time.

June 20, 2016

Tony stayed the night in the Facility, before driving back to New York in the morning. Things were tense at the Facility - small arguments and debates sparked up all over the place, in hushed tones or loud exasperation. No one had signed just yet, but Maggie could already guess who would: Rhodey. Vision. Maybe Natasha. Wanda was hard to read - as the most enhanced of them all, Maggie didn't blame her for being afraid.

Steve left for the day, Maggie didn't know where.

Maggie spent the day in her workshop, with her copy of the Accords. At first she just sat there, staring at the closed booklet, overwhelmed by how much her world seemed to have shifted in just a day. She wished she could toss the Accords in the trash and forget they existed. But at the same time… she couldn't deny the agreement she'd felt yesterday when Vision and Tony had been talking.

So she turned on a playlist, locked her workshop doors, and flipped the Accords open to the first page. She wasn't sure how much of it the others had actually read; it was thick, double sided in tiny print. But she needed to know the full story before she made up her mind.

It took her twelve hours to completely finish it. She could have read it quicker, but she broke up her read by scribbling in the margins with red pen, and researching elements that made her frown. It was a tough read: a lot of legalese, with about fifteen appendices and countless sections and subsections.

For her own sanity, she jotted out what she could make out to be a summary of its key contents, since the actual table of contents was vague:

Any enhanced individuals who agree to sign must register with the United Nations and provide biometric data such as fingerprints and DNA samples
a) Those with secret identities must reveal their legal names and true identities to the United Nations
b) Those with innate powers must submit to a power analysis, which will categorize their threat level and determine potential health risks.
c) Those with innate powers must also wear tracking bracelets at all times.

Any enhanced individuals who sign are prohibited from taking action in any country other than their own unless they are first given clearance by either that country's government or by a United Nations subcommittee.
a) Governments are forbidden from deploying enhanced individuals outside of their own national borders unless those individuals are given clearance as described above. The same rule also applies to non-government organizations that operate on a global scale (including the Avengers)

Any enhanced individuals who do not sign will not be allowed to take part in any police, military or espionage activities, or to otherwise participate in any national or international conflict, even in their own country.
a) As a corollary, they will not be allowed to participate in any active missions undertaken by private or governmental law enforcement/military/intelligence organizations (such as the Avengers)

Any enhanced individuals who use their powers to break the law (including those who take part in extralegal vigilante activities) or are otherwise deemed to be a threat to the safety of the general public, may be detained indefinitely without trial.
a) If an enhanced individual violates the Accords, or obstructs the actions of those enforcing the Accords, they may likewise be arrested and detained indefinitely without trial.

The use of technology to bestow individuals with innate superhuman capabilities is strictly regulated, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology (such as Asgardian and Chitauri weaponry).
a) The creation of self-aware artificial intelligence is completely prohibited.

The Avengers will not longer be a private organization and will operate under the supervision of the United Nations.

There was a whole lot more to it than Ross had explained to them yesterday - in fact, he'd only filled them in on that last section. And much of what she had read raised the hairs on the back of her neck:

Detained indefinitely without trial.

She wondered how on earth that had been ratified by 117 countries. She wondered how it had been written by the United Nations. Wherever she encountered the term, she jotted in red pen beside it:

Article 11 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights: Right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law at a public trial?

Fuelled by cold coffee, she researched who had written the Sokovia Accords: it appeared to have been drafted by a mixture of UN lawyers, as well as various Attorney Generals and consultants. None of the authors had worked on any similar kind of legislation before, but Maggie supposed that was because there was nothing similar. She saw that Ross had also been consulted.

It was at that point, early in the day, that Maggie had tried to call Tony to talk about it again. But when she did, and each time she called subsequently with a new question, he just said:

"You have to sign, Mags. There's no other option."

So she kept reading, and writing.

There was very little detail about what 'enhanced individuals registering with the United Nations' meant. None of the appendices mentioned anything about what this register would look like, who would have access, or how it would be used. No mention of its security protocols.

She did find a definition for what 'enhanced individual' meant in the first appendix:

Enhanced; a human individual who either:
a) Was born with other-than-natural powers
b) Obtained powers due to external means; whether by receiving artificial enhancement through scientific means; learning 'magic'; or wearing a suit of powered armor (see: Iron Man)

Maggie frowned and added a note: Am I enhanced with my wingpack on, but otherwise a regular person? Or am I always enhanced? What do I register as?

One of the appendices explained the 'threat levels' that enhanced individuals would be assigned to. There were eight levels, which seemed to be determined by potential danger posed to the public. Since Tony had already signed, he was listed as an example: a level 5.

There was no description of who judged the threat levels, or if there were any kind of appeal process.

What about support staff? Analysts? she wrote on the back cover. Maggie had promised Rikki a job with the Avengers one day, would signing the Accords become a basic requirement for those even tangentially linked with enhanced individuals?

And then there was some stuff they'd just got plain wrong. Section 36A stated:

The creation of self-aware artificial intelligence is completely prohibited. But other than that general statement, there appeared to be very little understanding about what 'self-aware' meant, and the further expansions to that piece of legislation seemed to have an innate lack of understanding about artificial intelligence. It was clear someone with scientific knowledge had been consulted, but not someone who had any understanding of the kind of science the Avengers and other groups like them had been conducting. It was like a podiatrist trying to create laws for a heart surgeon.

And always, Maggie's eyes kept being drawn to the contract Ross had handed out alongside the actual Accords documents:

In accordance with the document at hand, I hereby certify that the below mentioned participants, peoples and individuals, shall no longer operate freely or unregulated, but instead operate under the rules, ordinances and governances of the above mentioned United Nations panel, acting only where and if the panel deems it appropriate and/or necessary.

Her name had been printed out neatly next to a blank line: Margaret Abigail Stark.

She still did not sign.

She almost jumped out of her chair in fright when there was a knock at her workshop doors. She looked up, heart pounding, to see Steve. And… it had also gotten dark.

She blinked, noticed her stomach growling, and then said: "F.R.I.D.A.Y., let him in."

The doors slid open and Steve stepped inside. He looked a bit better than yesterday, but his eyes still looked red, and it looked like a heavy weight had been draped over him.

"Hey," she said, glancing down at the heavily annotated copy of the Accords in front of her, and her scrap note paper scattered around her worktable. "Uh… how are you doing?"

"Bucky just checked in, I thought I'd let you know," he said tiredly instead of answering, walking over and showing her his phone screen. A text from an unknown number read:

SOTERIA
I'm sorry.

Maggie closed her eyes and bowed her head. It went against the communications protocol they'd agreed on, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She tried to picture Bucky, alone in the world somewhere, hearing about Peggy's death. She knew they hadn't been the closest, but… that was one more person who'd known him before. Someone who'd also known him now, and accepted him. More than that, his best friend's… well, his best friend's greatest love.

She wished she could talk to him. She wanted to hear his thoughts on the Accords. Because no doubt he'd say something incisive and so, so simple that she'd wonder why she'd been complicating it all along.

But he wasn't here, and life was complicated.

"I got the funeral invitation just now as well," Steve said in that same tired, numbed voice. "It's the day after tomorrow, in London. She's getting a state funeral."

"That's the 22nd," Maggie murmured. The same day as the UN Assembly meeting in Vienna.

"Yes." Steve seemed to take in her workshop fully, then. His eyes skimmed her worktable, with the open copy of the Accords, and his expression closed off. "Anyway. I might see you there."

He turned to go, and she called "Steve-" but he didn't turn back.

June 21, 2016

Maggie packed for both a funeral, and a UN Assembly Meeting. There was time to go to both, she'd discovered, and she'd be flying over to her hotel in London in a few hours. Tony would be staying behind; apparently Natasha had been nominated as the best representative of the Avengers, after she announced she was going to sign last night. Maggie had asked to come with her, and gotten a surprised agreement.

"Ms Stark, Stark Industries Internship participant Rikki Ochoa is outside your workshop."

Standing before a half-packed carry on suitcase in her private suite, Maggie looked up. "What do they want?"

There was a pause.

"They tell me it's private," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

Maggie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, then sighed. "Okay. I'll be up in a minute."

She hastily grabbed a few more things from her cupboards, making sure to place her copy of the Accords in the suitcase, then left her suite and made her way across to her workshop.

Sure enough, Rikki stood outside, leaning against the wall with their arms wrapped around themself. They still wore their SI labcoat.

"Hey, Rikki," Maggie said tiredly. "What can I help you with?"

Rikki glanced over, eyes wide behind their glasses. "I'm really sorry, I know you must be so busy, and I said to F.R.I.D.A.Y. that it was fine, and not to bother you, but then she told me to stay and wait here-"

"It's fine," Maggie said, a hand up. She strode up to the workshop doors and they opened. "Come in."

Rikki followed her in, arms still wrapped around themself. Maggie sat down on a workstool and gestured for Rikki to take another one. They did, awkwardly hoisting themself up and then looking down at their lap.

"What's wrong?" Maggie asked.

"It's… really fine. I didn't mean to bother you in the middle of… all this with the Accords, and it can wait-"

"You may as well tell me," Maggie said with a small smile despite her nerves and her exhaustion.

Rikki blew out a long breath. "Okay. So you remember what you said about… about being fancier than 23andMe? It was like a month ago-"

"I remember."

"Well. I've been thinking a lot about it. And I didn't want to, for ages, but then last night I just… I suddenly felt like if I didn't try then I'd die. And I'm really sorry it's such bad timing-"

"It's your timing, and that's what's important," Maggie cut them off. She nodded. "I can do it now, if you like?"

Rikki's eyes widened behind their glasses. "Now? Here?"

"I've got a sequencing machine right here," she said, gesturing, "and the Facility has a whole host of databases we can compare samples to. I'd need a saliva or blood sample though, as long as you're okay with it."

Rikki blew out a breath. "Yes. I just want to get it over with."

Maggie nodded. "Okay."

She set about collecting the materials she'd need, almost glad of the distraction from the rest of her life falling apart. Rikki sat tense and quiet, chewing on the inside of their cheek and fidgeting.

When Maggie returned with a cotton swab, Rikki swallowed.

"I'm sure you know, but I want to remind you that we might not find anything," Maggie warned as she pulled on a pair of gloves. "All we might find is the genetic link to your mother, and abuela."

"I know," Rikki said quickly. "And that's fine. I hate the not knowing."

"I know that feeling," Maggie said instinctively, then frowned and shook her head. "No, I don't. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay."

"Alright, open up" - Rikki opened their mouth, and Maggie swabbed the insides of their cheeks for half a minute on each side, collecting skin cells - "perfect."

Maggie set about processing the sample, and Rikki watched quietly.

"I'm really sorry about all this Accords stuff," they said after a little while, and Maggie looked over her shoulder. Rikki was fidgeting again, thick dark hair shrouding their eyes. "It's not fair."

"Well," Maggie said lamely. "We'll figure something out."

"What if I did some investigating into the people pushing for it?" Rikki suggested. "Like that Secretary Ross, I bet I could find some scandal or-"

"Don't you dare," Maggie said, careful to keep her voice even as she turned around. "I'm serious, Rikki. Don't go near the Accords with a ten foot pole. Thank you for offering to help, but this would seriously get you in trouble."

She held the kid's gaze for several long moments, until she was satisfied they had heard her. Rikki had a stubborn just to their jaw, but finally nodded.

Maggie checked her watch. "Jeez. Look, I've got to be out of here in half an hour. But that machine" - she jerked a thumb over her shoulder - "is on an automatic process. It'll process the sample and then run it through our databases, and we should have the final results by the time I get back in a couple days. I'll go through it all with you then. Okay?"

"Okay," Rikki murmured. "Thank you."

Maggie made sure to find Wanda before she left.

The young Sokovian was in her room, with the door open. That was something, at least.

"Hey," Maggie said, leaning in through the doorway. Wanda looked up, her expression guarded.

"You're leaving."

"Yeah, right now. I just wanted to say..." Maggie sighed. "No matter what happens, I'm on your side."

Wanda's forehead creased.

"We had a rough start, you and I, but you are an Avenger, and a damn good one. And you deserve exactly as much freedom as anyone else."

Wanda pressed her lips together, swallowed, and then said: "... thank you."

They both knew that Maggie's support might not mean a damn thing in a day.

Wanda offered her a small smile. "Have a safe flight. See you soon."

"Thanks," Maggie murmured. "Yeah."

Then she turned to go.

An hour later, Maggie looked out the window of her chartered jet down at the dark grey Atlantic Ocean miles below. She didn't know why she felt like she was leaving a life behind.

She drew her gaze inward from the window, and it landed on the open Accords in front of her. Beside it lay a spare sheet of paper which she'd begun to write on: Secretary-General, excellencies, gathered dignitaries.

And that was all she had so far. She leaned forward and rubbed her eyes.

"Come on, Wyvern," she mumbled to herself. She had half a plan - not even that, not really. And she knew that her time of sitting on the fence was drawing to a close. But she wanted to try this one last idea.

That is everything I can canonically prove is actually in the Accords - don't blame you if you skimmed them, but wanted to put it all in there so we know what we're working with!

Reviews

Browneyes: It's not his fault!

Eennio: That does seem to be the question… ;)

MsMoe9: Close but not close enough!

Shortrooper: I do love Nat and her stoicism! Thank you as always for your wonderful reviews, they never fail to give me a big ol grin. I have also learned a new word from you! Verklemp. And oh boy, if you're already sad about the Accords drama, buckle up. Thanks again, see you next week!

Guest: me either lmao

Guest: so close… and yet so far