Years of military service and training send Steve ducking the moment T'Challa's warning leaves his mouth. His hands reach for Tony as he dives, and he yanks them both down under the table, his breath catching in his chest as he rolls on top of him. Half-a-second later and the world erupts into chaos, a shockwave blasting through the room as a wave of heat rolls over them and glass shards fly in every direction.
Steve winces and braces himself, pain pulsing through his head as he covers Tony, his sensitive ears ringing as the blast rips through the room. Screams, and the sound of a fireball dance at the edge of his hearing, but the noise remains far away, seemingly underwater. He grits his teeth and shakes his head, knowing that it will be a few moments before the serum will manage to heal his ears from the effects of the explosion.
He doesn't wait that long though, adrenaline shooting through his body as he shakes off bits of glass from his hair and shoulders and sits up. The air is hazy with smoke, and next to him, he can see Tony reaching into his suit jacket to pull out a pair of glasses, the frames lighting up as he puts them on, his mouth moving with words that Steve can't hear. He leaves Tony to it and turns to reach for where Natasha is crouched next to him, her body hunched over the man who had been sitting next to her.
"Start clearing the room!" he shouts at her, moving to push himself up, his eyes watering as he coughs against the smoke and scans the now empty windows— instinctively searching for any signs of another attack.
The room in front of him is a mess. Smoke and ash fill the air, blurring his vision as he glances over the bits of glass, chunks of concrete and shattered wood that sit scattered among the panicking people. He blinks, and he can see them scrambling over each other, but it seems far away, their sounds one loud, useless blur. He shakes his head and glances over to the front of the room, his eyes darting over to a lone figure sitting motionlessly in the middle of the floor.
Noise screeches and rings in his ears as they begin to heal and he bites back a wince, instead turning towards Tony and scanning the room for the rest of his team. "Help evacuate!" he orders, brushing more glass off his shoulder and trying to calculate how likely it is that a second explosion will occur.
His mind spins, his breath irregular as his ears echo strangely. He needs to focus. He needs to try to prioritise and calculate his team's current danger. How structurally sound is the building? Where is the fire? How many people are injured? How many are dead? How far off are emergency services? Who can they save?
The questions buzz through his mind as his team shakily spreads out to help control the frantic terror in the room, and Steve's ears screech one last time, before finally popping and letting the room's sound in with a roar.
He grimaces at the familiar assault and he squints through the smoke as he looks towards the figure he had noticed earlier at the front of the room. His eyes water, but his heart drops as he realises who, and what it is.
It is T'Challa, the man grief stricken and clutching at his father, the king lying motionless on the ground. Steve's breath catches as he steps forward, half-crouching instinctively in case of another attack, his eyes pinned on T'Challa as he drags himself around the twisted remains of a desk, his feet slipping on charred debris and broken glass as he makes his way over to the pair.
T'Challa is weeping when he reaches him, and Steve's heart twists in his chest as he looks them over. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice grating roughly in his throat, thanks to the smoke. "I'm sorry." He glances up at the windows and then back down. "I'm sorry," he says again. "But we have to go. We have to go now."
T'Challa looks up at him and says something in a language that he can't understand, but this is not the first time that he has been forced to deal with a language barrier and grieving blast victims. "I'm sorry," he says again, coughing into the sleeve of his jacket, the screams from behind them and the approaching sirens from the street below grating on his ears. "We have to leave. The building isn't safe, we have to go."
He reaches for T'Challa and the man pulls away. For a second Steve worries the man might resist him, but instead he watches as he reaches for his father's hand, and pulls off a thick silver ring from his finger. His hands shake slightly as he clutches it in his fist, his breath catching as he carefully lowers his father to the ground, his eyes shifting into a familiar traumatized blankness as he moves to crawl away.
Steve's lips press together and he coughs against the smoke again as he shifts to lead them both away, his mind compartmentalising things left and right as he tries to deal with only the most immediate problems in front of him.
His main goal is to leave the room right now and keep other people from dying. He will deal with the destruction and death later.
T'Challa remains half-crouched and silent with him as they make it across the room. He would have liked to stay with him, but they get separated once he is called away to free a woman who had gotten her foot trapped in the remains of a desk. The woman is panicked and hysterical, and he loses track of T'Challa as he helps carry her out of the building. The brightness of the sun is an affront to his eyes, and he can't help wincing as he squints and stumbles forward, Sam coming up to direct him to a makeshift triage station being set up outside.
"Medics are here, firefighters are on their way," he says with a familiar soldier-like efficiency, his face and clothes covered in ash as he flicks his eyes over him. "And your ears are bleeding."
Right. His ears. "They're healed now," he reports back, his eyes focused on the medics as he hands the woman off to be looked at.
Sam wants him to stay and get checked out, but he refuses. "It's healed," he says firmly. "You know this has happened before. Other people need medical more than me." Sam doesn't look too happy about that, but he has more experience with explosions and his enhanced hearing than him, so he steps away from the med station and sets out to try to find the rest of his team.
In all honesty, he would rather his ears were still deaf, because, with how on edge he is, he is having trouble controlling their focus. The whole of the emergency scene seems to drill deeper and deeper into his head— the screaming people, the shouting of emergency workers, the spray of water and the beat of helicopter blades as people rush to control the fire, the screeching of tires, the barking of police dogs, even the beating of his own heart seems to sound loudly in his ears.
"Steve?"
Oh.
Clint is next to him, and Steve can only hum in response, the sound of the man's pulse next to him almost deafening. He grits his teeth and tries to take control. This is not his first disaster, he has dealt with the noise before, but he is tired, and emotionally drained and everything is too loud.
He hardly even registers as Clint grabs him and starts to lead him off to a quieter corner of the square, settling him down on a bench as he works on breathing evenly and keeping a grounding grasp on his other senses.
Clint's hand on his shoulder helps a little, although he can't help being aware of every bit of dirt and grime grating on his skin, and sitting in the folds of his suit, and in the strands of his hair. His nails dig into his palms as he sucks in a breath and fights the useless urge to try to brush it all away.
"The lines are too jammed up to try to call Bucky," Clint tells him, his voice thankfully at a whisper. "The rest of us are helping with the clean up. You just sit here and wait for your ears to calm down."
Steve hums again and gives in to leaning forward and pressing his hands to his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues to breathe in carefully. Once he calms down, he knows that his ears will settle as well, he knows he just needs to relax and ground himself, but the technique is a little hard to do when every sound puts him on edge.
He just needs to breathe. Focus. What was Jason's technique? The five grounding senses. Five, four, three, two, one. Over and over again. Five, four, three, two, one.
He isn't sure how long it takes, but when he sits up again, his ears have settled slightly, and the immediate chaos has died down. His ears are sharp enough still that he can hear Sharon's voice behind him, and he turns to spot her walking purposely among a group of agents, spouting out orders about containment and investigation.
The sight of her is actually a relief, since he knows he can trust her to do her job properly, and he sucks in a slow breath, blinking his eyes a few times as he becomes more aware of his other surroundings. The street is still bustling with activity, but there is a stillness next to him, and he turns his head to see T'Challa sitting on a bench next to him, a few cuts on his face as he sits with a familiar thousand-yard stare.
Steve swallows, his throat still dry from smoke as he tries to figure out what to say. This part is never easy. "I'm very sorry," he says lowly.
The man's eyes dart to him, his father's ring in one hand and his phone in the other. "Perhaps, you have not seen the news, Captain," he says, something sharp underlining his words as his hand tightens on his phone. "It is not you, who needs to be sorry."
Steve's brow furls in confusion, but a cry from behind him has him turning his head before he can say anything in return.
"Steve!" Bucky's voice is achingly welcome after everything, and his eyes dart over to where his friend is weaving his way through emergency workers, his rumpled suit flapping behind him as he runs, his face pale with worry.
Next to him, T'Challa tenses slightly, but Steve is too distracted by the sight of his friend to pay it any mind. Bucky's eyes are wide and searching as he approaches, and Steve finds himself standing as he reaches him, his hands reaching for Bucky's as his friend stumbles to a halt and runs his hands over his dirty suit in a search for injuries, his mouth running a mile-a-minute.
"Are you alright?" he bursts out, his eyes skating over him in a frantic scan. "I saw the explosion from the park, but I couldn't call you – the lines were overwhelmed – and they were setting up a barricade perimeter and I couldn't find any of the Avengers and they were trying not to let people in, but there was so much smoke and they were saying a bomb went off, but they wouldn't say if anyone was injured." His eyes catch onto his ears and Bucky frowns. "Your ears are bleeding, what happened?"
Steve sucks in a shaky breath at the presence of his friend and he shakes his head, his hands reaching up to grasp at Bucky's elbows. "The blast damaged my ears," he says roughly. "Remember how it used to be with grenades? It's fine now, it heals quickly."
Bucky frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but gets interrupted by the sound of pounding feet, and they both look over as Tony comes rushing up to them, his face pale and his phone in his hand, his glasses still flickering on his face. "Steve, there you are," he bursts out in a rush, panting slightly from his run as his eyes dart between him and Bucky. "JARVIS just said— —Have you checked the news—?"
He gets cut off and his head darts up at the cry of, "There he is!", and suddenly Steve is surrounded by a crowd of armed CIA agents, the menacing group of visored men encircling all three of them as they draw their weapons.
His heart leaps into his throat, and he finds himself instinctively shoving Bucky behind him, the man spinning around to watch his back, his heartbeat clear as day as Steve darts his eyes around the agents cornering them.
He can feel his grip on the careful stability he had been working on slip, the present danger the only thing keeping him from falling into full-blown panic. He can feel it though, on the edges of his mind, tugging at him as the world falls to pieces.
He tries to push it back. He needs to breathe. He needs to think. He needs to find out what is going on. One step at a time. One step at a time.
"What is going on?" he snaps out, his voice hard to cover his growing fear. His hands curl into fists to keep them from shaking, and his heart pounds painfully in his chest, his shoulders hunching instinctively as he settles down into a fighting stance, his breath thin and shallow. "What are you doing?"
Next to him, Tony swallows and clutches his phone tighter, his eyes darting uneasily between him and the armed men surrounding them. "Steve, they think—"
Behind them, T'Challa stands, and when Steve glances at him, his eyes are burning, his gaze staring right into Bucky. "That man," he bites out, his voice rock-hard, "murdered my father. They have his image on the security cameras. He set off the bomb."
Steve's blood freezes, and he stares at T'Challa opened mouthed, his mind spinning, completely unable to comprehend even a single word of his speech. Behind him, Bucky's heartbeat increases in pace and his shoulders press back into his, the line of his spine tense and anxious.
"W–what are you talking about?" he hears him say, his voice tight and strained. "I wasn't even there. I was in the park. I was planning to go to the meeting today, why would I—"
He pulls back, and Steve moves with him as the agents beside Bucky tighten the circle. The world blurs, and he can feel his vision tunneling as he tries to get a grasp on the situation, his capacity for dealing with disasters running short after everything else.
In front of him, a lead agent flicks up his visor and steps forward, drawing his gaze. "Sergeant Barnes is the primary suspect to the attack," he states calmly, and Steve can feel Bucky shudder at the words. "He is under arrest."
The agent flicks his gaze between Steve and Tony, his eyes hard and uncompromising. "If you resist, we will arrest you too."
Steve can hear Bucky breathing quietly behind him, and he can't keep his hands from shaking anymore as the world unravels around him. This— this on top of everything else— "You've got to be kidding me," he says thinly, his eyes darting around the group. "I know Bucky didn't do it. You can't just—"
He cuts off as, behind him, he can feel Bucky shift, something settling as he breathes in. He can feel his shoulders straightening against his, and his breath stalls as he realises a second too late what is going to happen. The men around them tense, as though they expect Bucky to attack… but he knows better than that.
"Alright," he hears him say quietly. "Alright, we'll go."
Steve's chest squeezes and he whips around to find Bucky standing with his hands raised, his gaze a mask of calm, even if his heartbeat doesn't reflect it at all. No, he thinks desperately, his eyes darting around the circle of agents. No, this is so wrong.
His breath shakes slightly as he stares wide-eyed at Bucky, the heartbeats getting loud in his ears again. "Buck—"
"We can't win this if we turn it into a fight," Bucky says low and quick, his eyes on the men in front of him. "We'll figure it out. It's okay."
It's not okay! he thinks frantically as Tony edges a step closer to him, anxious lines deepening on his face as he glances over the scene and up to T'Challa a few times. Next to him, Bucky swallows and darts his eyes over to Tony, his gaze flicking once to him, before going back to Tony.
"You watch him, Tony. Ya hear?" he says in a low voice, his gaze remaining steady.
Tony's face is pale and drawn tight as he gives him a nod, his tongue darting out to lick his lips anxiously. "I hear," he says roughly, and Steve's fists clench as he grits his teeth, internally fuming at the helplessness of his situation.
This is so wrong. This— this cannot be happening.
He watches Bucky breathe in once, and even though his heartbeat hasn't slowed down, he manages to present a calm face to the crowding agents. "Okay," he says, raising his voice to them. "Okay, I'm coming."
The agents in front of them remain tense, their weapons drawn and pointed at Bucky, and Steve tries to convince himself that they won't shoot him without cause. He… he doesn't feel very convinced as he watches the guns track Bucky's movements.
"Hands on your head!" one of the men shouts, and Bucky complies, his movements slow and deliberate as he follows the order, otherwise holding perfectly still. "On your knees!" the agent yells next, and Steve's gut twists at the order, his breath catching as he watches Bucky very carefully lower himself onto the ground, the agents' weapons following him all the way down.
Something grabs at the sleeve of his suit jacket, and he turns to see Tony reaching for him, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he watches the scene. "We'll figure it out," he tells him in quiet rushed tones. "I've already got Pepper and her lawyers on the line, we'll figure it out."
Glancing over at the smoldering stare of T'Challa, Steve isn't certain that that will be enough. He looks back as the agents order Bucky to lay on his stomach, and soon one of them is on top of him, his knee pressing into Bucky's back as he jerks his arms up behind him to be cuffed.
They don't have to be this rough. They don't have to make Bucky lay on the ground – he would have gone quietly with them, he isn't fighting them – and Steve can feel his anger rising the longer it goes on, his jaw aching with how tight he is holding it.
Next to him, Tony's fingers whiten on his sleeve, and when he glances back, he finds Tony's face hard and pale with fury as well. That helps, somehow, and he breathes in, his hands shaking again as he tries to get control of his racing thoughts.
He knows why Bucky is doing this. He knows trying to fight right now will only make things worse. But he hates it so much.
Back on the ground, the agents finish cuffing Bucky and force him to his feet. Steve watches with clenched teeth and a tense jaw, his lips hurting with hard he is pressing them together. He breathes in, and he is certain Tony can feel him vibrating with pent up emotion at the scene.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sharon approaching, and he spins around to face her, his jacket slipping out of Tony's grasp as his tongue presses hard against his teeth. "What is going to happen now?" he asks sharply, doing his best not to glare at her (he is pretty sure he fails).
Sharon's eyes flick over him, and he can see the well-concealed shades of sadness in her gaze. "He will be transported to a secure CIA bunker in Berlin," she tells him quietly. "This location is compromised."
Steve flicks his eyes over to the blackened, burned-out building beyond, and he grits his teeth. "Alright," he says, looking back at her. "But I'm coming too." He isn't really sure if he has any legal right to come, but he is also pretty sure that there isn't anything legally stopping him right now either. In front of him, Sharon presses her lips together but doesn't argue.
"I am coming too," T'Challa's deep voice cuts in, his eyes still pinned to Bucky and the guards. "You will forgive me if I place more faith in my justice, than yours."
Sharon's face tightens slightly but her expression remains professional. "I am sorry for the loss of your father," she tells him. "We will do our best to figure out what happened."
T'Challa's expression clearly states that he already knows enough about what happened to make a judgement, and Steve can't help thinking back to what he had said about Bucky being caught on the security feed.
How is that possible? he thinks, as the agents in front of him surround Bucky like a swarm of black flies as they prepare to transport him into a waiting van. He and Tony move along with them, a few feet back, and Tony begins to talk to JARVIS through his glasses, trying to get in contact the rest of the Avengers.
Steve shifts to stand at attention, his hands white behind his back, his eyes never leaving Bucky and the security team.
Why was the security feed released to the media so quickly? he thinks, his shoulders achingly stiff, and his eyes hard as he watches Bucky get taken into the armoured vehicle. Everything about it reminds him too much of the vans that Hydra used to have, and Bucky's eyes meet his once, his mouth twitching up briefly – the move probably less comforting than he would like – before the doors close over him with a deafening slam.
We will figure it out, Tony had said, and Steve grits his teeth. They will figure it out. They will. His eyes flick up to the hulking van again and he swallows, looking over as Tony finishes his call and looks up at him.
"The others know already," he says quietly. "I told them we're going to Berlin." Steve gives a stiff nod and turns to find Sharon. The next step, is figuring out what the plan is for getting them there.
In the end, they don't bring all the other Avengers with them to Berlin. They are all angry enough, and willing enough, but not only would the CIA probably be against the idea, but the bomb and Bucky's face on the news had incited a media storm that Natasha is still trying to get a hold on. Besides that, someone needs to stay behind to keep them updated on what will be happening with the Accords now, so she stays to coordinate that, while Clint, Sam and Rhodey stay to assist with clean-up.
"With you and Tony behind him, Bucky has all the help he could possibly need," Clint tells him as the two of them prepare to leave for Berlin, a UN helicopter on standby for them and T'Challa. "Just bring him back, okay?"
"We will," Steve says quietly, working to speak past the lump in his throat. "We'll figure it out."
oOo
It's an awkward few hours to Berlin, what with T'Challa right next to him in the helicopter, but Steve finds himself mostly numb to it, his eyes pinned to the window, where he knows Bucky's transport plane is flying somewhere nearby, Sharon and the rest of the CIA agents guarding him.
He wishes he could have flown in the same plane as Bucky. He wishes they could have stayed in Vienna, with the other Avengers. The others might not have been able to help much with what is going on, but he would feel more comfortable knowing that they were there.
Of course, he probably shouldn't be surprised that the UN and the CIA want to move them. Right now, Vienna is a hotspot of activity, and they need somewhere safe and secure to begin the process of figuring out what had actually happened.
Not that he thinks the UN is too worried about that, in their eyes, they have already caught the culprit.
But why was Bucky targeted? he thinks, his eyes on the clouds as they pass. Who even knows he is alive to use?
Because that must be what is happening. Someone is framing Bucky, for reasons unknown. But… until now, his survival hadn't been made known to the general public. Various governments and the UN know, of course, but the fact hadn't been publicised.
We'll figure it out, he thinks firmly to himself. We will figure it out.
The only reason Bucky is being arrested now is because he is the prime suspect. Once they prove that he is innocent, then he can be let go. And they will prove he is innocent. If nothing else, Tony can send Pepper's team of lawyers down onto the UN. They will be able to get Bucky back.
Steve's suit is still grimy from the attack, and after several hours of travel it is beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable, but he ignores it as he disembarks at the landing pad, his eyes drawn immediately to the crowd of security officers on the other side of the tarmac, Bucky's plane just finishing its own touchdown.
Nobody stops him as he approaches, and he can feel Tony and T'Challa following him as he steps up to the crowd, sweeping his eyes over the surplus of personnel, Sharon talking to a few soldiers off to the side. His eyes catch on an armoured glass box in the middle of them, and he learns a new reason for why they had transferred Bucky to Germany.
It's a cage. They've built a cage for Bucky, hardly big enough to fit a single chair inside, and his breath catches as he watches Bucky get led out of the plane, a circle of guards around him as they carefully uncuff him and prepare to lock him inside the cell.
The cell has a chair. The cell has a chair with clamps in it that lock over Bucky's shoulders and his arms and Steve is— he's standing in the Vault, his teeth clenched and his arms folded as Bucky walks towards the chair, his eyes blank. There are Hydra agents everywhere, and he knows they are watching him, seeing how he will react— and he can't react, or he will blow his cover, but Bucky is sitting down in the chair and the headpieces are rotating around and they're going to—
He doesn't even realise he is pushing through the crowd until he's halfway to Bucky's cell. "What are you doing?" he gasps out, his eyes skating over the thing as the door is closed over Bucky with a hiss of pressurized air. Behind him, he can feel Sharon and T'Challa watching him, but he only has eyes for the clamps holding down his friend.
Guards move to stand between him and the cell, and he glances up, his gaze bordering on frantic, the heartbeats getting loud again as Bucky's eyes meet his. His breath catches and his eyes dart over the clamps again, a wave of nausea rising up his throat. "You can't—"
"Steve," Bucky speaks up, his voice muffled slightly by the glass. His tone is calm, even though he knows that Bucky's pulse isn't at all. Even so, his friend holds his eyes in an even gaze. "Steve it's okay."
"It's not okay!" he bursts out, because it isn't, and Bucky shouldn't be the one comforting him anyways and— and Tony reaches him, his fingers closing over the sleeve of his jacket again, tension lining his face.
"Steve," he says quietly, his eyes flicking around the room. "Steve, we can't stop this right now. They're not hurting him, but they think he's dangerous. They won't listen."
Steve can feel his hands shaking, and he breathes in, his breath tight and strained in his lungs. He knows what Tony is saying is true, he does, but Tony hadn't been there when Hydra had been trying to fry Bucky's brains out, he had never seen it, he doesn't understand—
He sucks in another breath and tries to get his breathing and senses under control, Tony's grip on his sleeve acting as a grounding beacon as he tries to keep from spiralling.
Nobody is going to listen to you if you're falling apart, he thinks sharply, his teeth clenching as he draws himself together. He needs to hold it together so that he can help Bucky. He can do that, he just needs to breathe.
He breathes. And then he breathes again. One step at a time, he reminds himself, swallowing heavily.
"Okay," he gets out finally, his jaw flexing around the rough syllable as he pulls away from the glass case, his sleeve slipping out of Tony's grip. Inside the cell, Bucky offers him a twitch of a smile, but Steve finds that he doesn't have it in him to return it, worry and anxiety twisting through his gut as he watches a forklift come up from behind the cell to lift it off the ground.
He grits his teeth and turns to look for Sharon, finding her standing and talking to a grey-haired man in a silver suit. He doesn't know who the man is, but he looks like a good candidate for 'person in charge', and he sets his sights on him, determination folding over his panic from earlier. He can feel T'Challa's gaze on him as he marches over, but he ignores it, Tony following him as he plants himself in front of Sharon and the man.
"What is going to happen to him now?" he asks pointedly, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the grey-haired man as Tony steps up silently to stand next to him. He stares down at the grey-haired man. He knows the UN and the CIA think that they have already captured their culprit, but he also knows that they haven't, and he needs to know what their plan is, he needs to make sure that he can have a chance to prove Bucky's innocence.
The man doesn't give him much hope for that. "What would have happened before, if he wasn't with the Avengers," he says, giving him an unflinching look. "Psychological evaluation and extradition."
Steve's jaw clenches at that, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees T'Challa glance over at the mention of extradition. He can feel his blood pressure rise at the unconcerned manner of the man in front of him and his eyes narrow.
Sharon can probably sense his growing ire, and she jumps in to offer a smooth introduction. "This is Everett Ross," she tells him. "Deputy Task Force Commander."
Steve nods at her and flicks his eyes over the man, wondering if he is the one behind the cell.
Next to him, Tony shifts and he tilts his head, his shoulders pulling back authoritatively. "What about a lawyer?" he asks.
Ross turns to him and gives a slight shake of his head in disbelief. "Lawyer." His mouth quirks upward slightly. "That's funny."
Steve's eyes flash, his mouth opening as his patience snaps, his thoughts nearly incomprehensible in his fury. He doesn't get a chance to unleash it though, because next to him, Tony's smile turns brittle and his eyes glint. "Ha ha," he says, his smile still bright and motionless on his face. "Funny how it would be illegal not to have one."
Ross pauses to glance over him, and Tony flashes his teeth at him. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer soon, I think," he says, his hands slipping calmly into his pants pockets. "She'll have something to say." He lifts his chin. "Now what was this about a psychological evaluation?"
It turns out that as soon as Bucky had been captured, a UN psychologist had been called from Geneva to come evaluate him. "It's late though," Ross tells them, his eyes flicking over their ash covered clothes and pausing briefly on Steve's ears, which he now realises must still have remnants of dried blood on them.
Ross' gaze travels over to T'Challa and he looks unimpressed by the idea of having any of them in his compound right now. "I doubt he's even checked into his hotel," he continues dryly. "We'll get started in the morning. You can either go find a hotel for yourselves, or, I guess we can find an empty office room for you or something."
Steve raises his chin, his stomach twisting at the idea of Bucky being in that cramped cell overnight. "I'm not leaving," he says firmly, and next to him, Tony lets out a quiet sigh, muttering something about the loss of beds under his breath.
Next to him, T'Challa's voice is low and grim. "Neither am I."
Ross sighs and glances between them both. "Alright, fine," he says, waving at them to follow him. "Do me a favour and don't wander around."
oOo
Ross at least has the presence of mind to station T'Challa in a different office than the rest of them –even if it is next-door. Their guide leaves them, and Tony steps away, leaving Steve to glance over the empty desk and collection of chairs occupying the room they had been offered, his eyes darting up to the floor-to-ceiling window behind the desk, realising with a start that Ross hadn't been wrong about it getting late.
The sun is setting, and he lowers himself down onto one of the leather chairs facing the desk, his mind taking a chance to catch up with everything that had happened today. It had been a long day. They had woken up early to go to Peggy's funeral, and he is still in his funeral clothes, except now he is covered in soot, thanks to a terrorist bomb, and now he is in Germany with Bucky trapped in a cell in a bunker somewhere.
His breath hitches slightly, and he presses his lips together, taking the next several minutes to breathe carefully, grimacing as he runs a hand over his dirty face.
The door swings open behind him, and Tony steps through, looking a bit less rugged than before. "There's a bathroom down the hall," he informs him, his phone in hand as he comes to sit down in a chair next to him. Steve lets out a breath and nods, grateful to have something to do for the moment, and glad to have a chance to clean up.
He shrugs off his ruined jacket, and leaves it with Tony in the office as he gets up to head down the hall, his eyes glancing over to the blurred glass wall of T'Challa's office, a vague, dark shape the only indication of the man's presence. He sucks in a breath and lets it out again as he walks past. As much as he doesn't want T'Challa to be mad at Bucky, he can't imagine what the man is going through right now, alone in an office, in another country, only hours after his father's death.
He doubts his presence would be very comforting to him though, so he continues down to the bathroom and steps in, squinting a little at the bright florescent lights. He catches sight of himself in the mirror for the first time since the attack, and he can't help grimacing at his bedraggled appearance. Soot sits in his hair line and in the crevices of his skin, and dried blood is flecked around his ears, his own haggard expression finishing off the look.
With a sigh, he steps towards the sink and begins to laboriously wash his face, wetting paper towels to wipe down his neck and arms, before carefully cleaning out his ears. By the end of it, he at least looks clean, if not a little pale, and he cleans up the mess of paper towels before turning to head back to the office where Tony is waiting.
Tony is on the phone when he arrives, and as he listens, he realises that he is on call with Bruce. He can't stop a wince as he remembers that the man is waiting for them back in London, probably learning of the events in Vienna second-hand through the news. He hopes some of the other Avengers had already called him before now, to at least let him know that they were uninjured by the blast.
"Yeah, we're doing the best we can," he hears Tony say as he signs off. "Hopefully we'll see you soon."
He pulls his phone away from his ear as the call ends, and Steve moves to go sit in the leather chair next to him. "Is he doing okay?" he asks. "I didn't even think to call him."
Tony nods as he puts his phone away. "Yeah," he says, waving a hand tiredly. "He told me that Clint called him once the lines opened up, he just wanted to check in."
Steve relaxes at the knowledge that his friend hadn't been completely left in the dark, and he turns his eyes to the darkening window, wondering if he should somehow try to get some sleep. He will need it for tomorrow, but he is guessing it will be difficult after everything from today. Not to mention that the office isn't exactly a five-star hotel.
Next to him, Tony shifts, suddenly looking more tired than before. "I actually got another call while I was in the bathroom," he says, and when Steve looks over at him, his eyes are on the leather armrests of his chair. After a moment, Tony lets out a heavy sigh and glances up at him. "It was Ross. Thaddeus Ross. He wants me to convince you to sign the Accords."
AN: Why does Marvel have to have two characters with the last name Ross in the same movie?!
Anyway, figuring out the travel times for this fic was really hard, since everything is always daytime in the mcu. But, factoring in travel times, I've decided that it must be getting to be nighttime now for our characters. So, they now have to spend the night in Berlin. I really feel for Steve, although things are pretty rough for everyone, honestly.
I enjoyed reading your theories last week about who blew the building! It is certainly an interesting situation, since we don't have Zemo. Feel free to tell me any more theories!