Title: Resurrection, Reconstruction, and Redemption, 6/13
Authors: seanchai and elspethdixon
Rated: PG-13
Pairings: Steve/Tony. Various canon ships. Sharon/Winter Soldier, for your daily dosage of bondage kink.
Warnings: Denial fic. Blatant shipper fic. Captain America and Iron Man in a romantic relationship (though the last chapter should have made that pretty clear). One non-canonical het pairing. Incredibly PG-rated porn. Terrifying amounts of snuggling and angst.

Disclaimer: The characters and situations depicted herein belong to Stan Lee and Marvel comics. Also, some of the dialogue in the last chapter (chapter five) was taken from Brian Michael Bendis's Civil War: The Confession. No profit is being made off of this derivative work. We're paid in love, people.

Note: For a rundown of where this fic departs from current continuity, see the notes at the end of chapter one. Familiarity with the events of Captain America #25 and Civil War is encouraged.

Again, thank you to angelofharmony and tavella for the wonderful beta job.

Chapter Six

When Nick Fury wanted things done, they got done. So when he had announced that the New Avengers, the Mighty Avengers, and the ranking members of the remnants of SHIELD were going to hold a meeting to discuss the situation, everyone came, no matter how obvious it was that the New Avengers all thought that this was some sort of trap, and that the Mighty Avengers had no real idea of what was going on.

Obviously, Tony hadn't had any more of a chance to talk to his team than Steve had had to talk to the New Avengers.

After they'd woken up, Steve had taken a quick shower, in the hopes of making himself look vaguely presentable again, and gone to find the New Avengers. He knew Tony probably had a fair amount of work to do before he could make any promises about changing registration, but that didn't mean that Steve couldn't talk to his team, try to explain the situation to them now that he had all of the information.

He'd been waylaid by Dugan before he could find any of them, though. Dugan had clapped Steve companionably on the shoulder, and herded him down to the commissary while telling him that there was a meeting in an hour, and that Steve and 'his people' had better be there, or Fury would have something to say about it. He had shoved a tray into Steve's hands, then, and left him standing in the line for food, feeling bemused. But hungry.

So Steve had decided that breakfast was the first order of business; trying to deal with Peter or Luke on an empty stomach probably wasn't the best idea in any case. And trying to face Nick Fury on an empty stomach was an exercise in futility.

He'd been half-way done with his second bowl of SHIELD instant oatmeal when Sam had slid into the empty seat across from him. "Where the hell did you go last night?" he had asked, looking irritated. Redwing had been perched on his shoulder, wearing an identical expression.

Steve had felt himself blushing instantly, certain that the past evening's activities were written all over his face. "I had to talk to Tony," he had said. If by talk, his brain had pointed out in a voice that sounded kind of like Nick Fury, you mean throw him against the wall and -- "and then I had to get some sleep," he had finished lamely.

"You couldn't have checked in with us before you went to bed?" Sam had demanded. "Spiderman was convinced they'd eaten you or something." Two pairs of golden eyes had peered suspiciously at Steve. "You all right? You've gotten thrown right back into the deep end here, and you've only been back a couple of days."

Steve had pretended great interest in his tasteless oatmeal. "I'm fine, Sam. I'm old hat at the back from the dead thing, remember? At least this time I only missed a couple months."

Sam had nodded, letting it drop. "Stark have anything to say worth hearing?"

Steve had thought about Tony's shattered voice on the now-destroyed tape, but that was too personal to share even with Sam. "He said he'd pull strings to get us all amnesties," he had said instead.

"And then we, what, register and join their superhero army like good little pawns?"

"Never," Steve had assured him. "I told him we weren't going to be anyone's weapons."

Sam had snorted, looking unimpressed. "You think he's gonna listen to that?"

"Two months ago, I'd have said no," Steve had admitted, "but now... the situation has changed." He had waved a hand to encompass the Helicarrier's mostly-empty mess hall, and Sam had frowned thoughtfully.

Now, he was sitting across Nick's conference table from Steve, wearing the same considering frown.

"Look, I know things have gone and been to hell, and that yer all nursing hurt feelings, but it's like I said yesterday; we've got bigger problems, now. Stark -- what's this I hear about pardons?"

Tony, who had been sitting quietly at the far corner of the table, jerked slightly, as if he hadn't expected Nick to call on him to speak. At some point after Steve had left, he had also gotten cleaned up, and was wearing a neatly pressed shirt, buttoned to the neck, and --

Steve could feel his face heating, and stared studiously at the conference table. Logically, he knew that the bruise on Tony's neck wasn't actually visible, and that no one else could know it was there. But Steve knew it was there, and every time he looked at Tony, now, his eyes seemed magnetically drawn to that spot.

And -- he couldn't have been any more obvious if he'd taken a marker, and written 'Property of Steve Rogers' across Tony's forehead, could he?

Worse yet, every time he looked at Tony now, a little part of his brain couldn't help but remember what had happened last night.

Tony squared his shoulders, and stood, taking the floor. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts; it seemed strangely like an admission of weakness. "It's going to take a few days to get everything straightened out, but the pardons are going through. There were some initial objections, of course, but there's not much congress can do at this point." He stopped again, glancing at Steve. Steve kept his eyes firmly on the conference table. His ears were turning pink; he could feel it. Tony continued, "After -- after that... look, I know most you don't want to register."

It was as if a switch had been flipped; Steve had always, at some level, found Tony attractive, but for the most part, it had mostly been an abstract attraction. Now though -- now he knew that Tony was exactly as good with his hands as Steve had always imagined, what he looked like naked, what his skin tasted like, the little noises he made when Steve sucked on his neck. Steve dug his fingers into the palms of his hands; it was really horribly inappropriate and distracting to be thinking this now. He needed to be able to compartmentalize; he'd mostly managed with Sharon, after all.

"I know that, at this point," Tony was saying, "I've probably got a snowball's chance in hell of convincing you to anyway. And after the losses we've taken, SHIELD isn't in a position to actually enforce the Registration Act. Doom and the Mandarin have to come first, and Red Skull, and after what happened to the Helicarrier, I think I can make Washington see that."

"Which means what, exactly?" Luke challenged. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded, and glared at Tony. Peter was sitting on his left side, still in his black costume. Jessica Jones was on Luke's right, arms folded in exactly the same manner as her husband's. Danny was sitting beside her, with the baby in his arms; the fact that he was absently bouncing the little girl didn't lessen the expression of hostility on his face one bit. The New Avengers obviously weren't anywhere near ready to reconcile; they'd need to know for sure that they weren't being taken first.

"Which means we can table the whole thing for a couple weeks until we're done with the real threats," Dugan said, leaning an elbow on the table and making a cutting motion with his hand.

"It means," Tony added, "that if we can take care of the threats facing us now without the aid of a government run superhuman army, we'll be in a position to definitively prove to Washington -- and the country -- that superheroes are more effective when they're not being forced to obey arbitrary laws. We won't be able to scrap registration entirely, at least not immediately, but we'll have the grounds to do away with the aspects that demand compulsory participation in government run programs."

"And that should take care of most of yer objections," Nick said, stabbing the air with his cigar in the New Avengers general direction. "So we can get down to business now."

Luke and Jessica Drew both looked like they wanted to object on principle, but both held their peace; it took a brave man or woman to interrupt Nick Fury when he was in this mood. "We've got troubles all over, and we're going to have to split up to handle them. I trust everyone here's old enough to deal with the fact that yer all going to have to go where we need to the most." Fury was definitely in fine form today. "Wasp," Nick turned to Jan. "You, Sentry, and the Falcon are going to need to handle DC. Wasp, yer going to have to handle the diplomatic end of things, make it look good for Washington."

"Of course," Jan said; she had more experience dealing with politicians than any of them except for Tony.

"Falcon, you're unregistered," Nick went on, "It'll be yer job to show everyone how we're all playing nice."

Sam looked disgruntled, but nodded. He might not like the idea of getting sent off with pro-registration people to play nice for the government, but he clearly saw the necessity.

"Agent Thirteen, Winter Soldier, you two are in DC, too." Nick said, glaring at Sharon and Bucky, seemingly just on principle. "I'd better not hear a single word about you from the media, but I want Red Skull's filthy Nazi head on my desk in three weeks."

Bucky had been leaning against the wall, standing next to Sharon. He stood up straight now, tilting his head to one side. "Technically, sir," he said, "I think being in Lukin's body means that he's a Communist now."

Steve grinned to himself; Bucky had always had a somewhat off-beat sense of humor. It was one of his most endearing traits.

Peter frowned. "Technically, wouldn't that actually make him a Commie-Nazi?" he asked, sitting forward, cocking his head in unconscious imitation.

Nick ignored them "Someone's going to need to handle the street-level violence here in New York. I trust your lot can handle that?" He gestured at Luke.

"Of course," Luke said, snorting, and settling further back into his chair. "Not like we haven't been already."

"I'm still in on this," Jessica Jones said, looking at Luke. Luke just gave her a half-smile, and held up one hand in apparent surrender.

"Right," Nick said. "She-Hulk and Ares are already in Los Angeles, so they can hold the fort there. We're going to need someone in France."

Tony had taken his seat again when Nick started talking, but he leaned forward now. "Actually, the Fantastic Four are already in Paris. Apparently, Grimm has friends there."

Nick glared at Tony. "You could have said something earlier," he said. "Since that's taken care of; Spiderwoman, I'm going to need you, Warbird, and Wonder Man in Hungary."

Jessica and Carol both looked seriously annoyed. Their argument the previous evening clearly hadn't resolved anything. "Sir --" they started simultaneously. Both women paused, glaring at each other. Nick glared back at both of them.

"Look, Latveria's going to be a problem. I can't send you in there directly, but I need someone holding the perimeter, and you three are our muscle," he said.

Jessica still didn't look pleased, but she nodded. "Are we actually going to be allowed to cross the border, or are we just taking care of Doom's messes when they spill over?" she asked.

"If you go in, I'd better not hear about it," Nick said. He had stuck his cigar back in his mouth, and was talking around it now. "The Black Widow's out in the field, gathering information for us."

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve caught Tony's bemused look; obviously no one was supposed to know about that. Steve traced the line of Tony's throat with his eyes. Tony glanced towards him, and Steve looked away hurriedly.

Nick continued, unabated. He was obviously enjoying the chance to reassert his authority over SHIELD. "There're still SHIELD agents stationed all over," he said, "and most of them are at real hotspots already. Problem is, we're going to need a way to get in touch with them. Communications went down with the other 'carrier, and we're going to need a way fer everyone to keep in contact while they're in the field."

"Actually, I've still got contact via the Extremis," Tony said, sounding chagrined. He ran a hand through his hair, looking tired for a moment. "After the other Helicarrier was destroyed, I told everyone still in the field to continue operating as normal until further orders."

"Why the hell didn't you say so?" Nick sounded seriously irritated; Steve could understand why. That was a fairly vital piece of information, one that he should have known. Of course, Nick wasn't technically in charge at the moment, even if they were all instinctively acting as if he were.

Tony shrugged. He raised one hand to rub at his eyes, then dropped it quickly. "You didn't ask."

"Well, now that you've decided to share that little piece of information, at least we don't have to worry about communications anymore," Nick said. "You can play dispatch, and handle that end of things from here."

"There's going to be a problem with that," Tony said, wincing slightly. "Red Skull has taken control of the satellites; to use them for communications, I'm going to have to hack them. Once I do that, anyone watching will be able to see the incursion, and they'll be able to triangulate my location through the signal."

"I thought all this water was supposed to stop that from happening?" Nick said, making a gesture that encompassed the room, and the whole of the submerged Helicarrier by extension.

"It does. Unfortunately, it also stops me from getting any decent reception. The Extremis--" he broke off, looked at Nick for a moment, and then said, "Look, think of it like a cell phone. Down here, I'm on the high-tech equivalent of roaming."

"So where can you get reception?" Steve asked.

Under his mustache, Tony's lips quirked into a half-smile for a second, and Steve studiously shifted his gaze to the New Avengers again.

"Up topside," Tony said. "Hence the problem."

"You dial up, Red Skull traces your signal back, and a zillion bad guys come through the door." Peter threw up his hands. "Oh, that makes everything better. How did Red Skull get his hands on the Defense Department's satellites in the first place?" he demanded. Even with the black and white mask covering his face, he still managed to give an impression of raised eyebrows and
general disgust.

"We're working on that," Dugan told him.

Tony ignored them, addressing Nick. "I'm going to need to keep moving. They shouldn't be able to get a lock on my location too quickly; as long as I keep a low profile, and don't stay anywhere for more than a day or so, it ought to be all right."

"You'll need someone to watch your back," Steve said. If Tony intended on keeping a low profile, that would mean staying out of the armor, and out of the armor, he wouldn't have any real defense against the range of threats that were running rampant in New York at the moment, particularly if he was going to be distracted by playing dispatch. "I'll go with you." Fury had probably intended for him to lead a group of SHIELD agents, but there were other people who could do that, and if nothing else, going with Tony would be a visible sign to both groups of Avengers that they really were working together now.

There was a drawn out moment of silence at Steve's announcement. Tony turned to look at Steve, something like surprise flickering across his face before he turned away. Fury looked contemplative. The collected Avengers looked, varyingly, surprised (Sentry), irritated (Luke and Peter), and worried (Carol). Jan and Sam both looked thoughtful in a way that made Steve shift uncomfortably in his chair, and look back at the table. It was hard plastic, made to look like wood, and was remarkably ugly; the fake wood-grain pattern that swirled across the surface was both vaguely entrancing, and mildly dizzying.

"Yer going to have to keep a low profile, too, if yer keeping an eye on Stark," Nick said. 'Yer sure you wouldn't rather be out in the field, somewhere else?"

Steve shook his head. "Someone has to," he said. "And I can do it." It would mean not using his shield, and staying out of costume, but he could do that. He wouldn't have trusted a SHIELD agent to watch Tony's back, and he was a lot less obvious than most of the rest of the Avengers, anyway. And given what he knew now, given what had happened last evening, Steve wasn't entirely sure he would have trusted anyone else to keep an eye on Tony in any case. There was just too much that most of them didn't know.

"You're sure you don't want to come with us?" Peter asked, sounding a little hurt. Steve winced. Going with Tony would mean leaving the New Avengers for now, but they would be all right on their own; he wasn't so sure about Tony at the moment.

Luke turned to give Peter a look. "Hey, this way Cap can keep an eye on Stark, make sure everything's on the level," he said.

Steve didn't bother to correct Luke, since there was a grain of truth to what he had said. Not that he didn't trust Tony to do his best to get the reforms to registration pushed through; after everything that had happened last night, Steve knew that Tony was going to do that. But he didn't entirely trust his methods. Pushed to the wall, Tony had a tendency to resort to the kind of desperate measures that often caused as many problems as they solved.

Registration needed to be reformed, but not through those means. And Tony didn't need to abase himself for them over the whole mess any more than he already had.

"You don't have to," Tony said to Steve, eyes fixed on the far wall.

Steve shook his head. "I should probably be keeping a low profile, too," he said. "And Nick knows my opinions about going into Latveria." He had no idea how the public was going to react to his return -- and after the fight yesterday, they probably already had some idea. Before, they'd been angry with him, and rightly so, but going by what some of the others had been saying, that might not be the case anymore. Either way, as much as he hated doing it, it was probably better for him to lay low until Tony had finished hashing out the pardons.

Nick snorted, and folded his arms across his chest. "Right, right. If that's what yer set on doing, God knows no one's going to be able to change yer mind," he said.

At the moment, it was less a matter of having set his mind to do something, and more the fact that Steve knew that he was simply the only one who could do this right. Tony might be a mess, but he was also the only one who could run dispatch right now, and they needed him to stay together at least until all of this was over, or they'd all be in trouble. Someone was going to need to keep an eye on him, if not exactly in the way that Luke meant. And there just wasn't anyone else Steve trusted to do the job right.

And it might be selfish of him, but he'd just gotten Tony back, and he wasn't going to lose him again, either to Red Skull, or to his own internal demons.

"All right," Nick said, stabbing his cigar at Sharon and Bucky. "You're not on the SHIELD network; you've got communications already. I want you in DC yesterday, before Red Skull leaves us another anthrax bomb."

"Yes, sir," Sharon said, just as Bucky added, "He probably won't use anthrax twice."

"Yes he will," Steve said. "He likes biological weapons." Yellowstone's tourism industry still hadn't completely recovered from Red Skull's last round with germ warfare.

Bucky straightened from his slouch against the wall and turned to go. Sharon started to follow him, then hesitated. "Steve-" she began.

"I'll walk you out," he said, standing. He'd promised to talk to her, and God knew when they'd get a chance to again.

"Hug your baby brother goodbye and then get back in here, Rogers." Nick smirked, and nodded towards the door as if he were doing Steve a favor.

Bucky snorted. "Po'shyol 'na hui," he snapped over his shoulder at Nick, not breaking stride.

Bucky and Sharon were standing shoulder to shoulder now, facing him. They were almost of a height -- she was tall for a woman, and even as an adult, Bucky was still on the small side.

Bucky grinned at him, looking years younger for one brief moment, and held out his right hand -- his real hand. Steve took it. "Good luck," he said. "Red Skull can be dangerous."

"I remember." Bucky leaned in close, wrapping his metal arm around Steve's shoulders for a one-armed hug, and whispered, "She didn't mean it, and it wasn't really her. Remember that."

"What?" Steve started to ask, but Bucky was already pulling away.

"I'll meet you in the garage," he told Sharon, and then he walked off down the corridor, metal arm gleaming dully under the fluorescent lights.

Steve watched him go, then turned to look down at Sharon. She was dressed in SHIELD combat gear -- black leather and kevlar with SHIELD's eagle insignia on both shoulder -- and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, leaving the strong, graceful lines of her neck and jaw bare and exposed. At the moment, that jaw was as tightly set as if she were prepared to face a firing squad. "Sharon," he started.

"I shot you," she blurted out.

"You--" Steve stared at her, knowing he was gaping stupidly. He'd expected some kind of emotional confession, about what had passed between them in the ambulance, maybe, or about whatever Dr. Faustus had done to her. "No you didn't," he said automatically. Sharon had shouted at him, fought with him, even slugged him once or twice, but she'd never pulled a gun on him.

"I did," she said. She'd been avoiding his eyes for two days, but she looked him directly in the face now. "Faustus programmed me. After you went down, I pulled out my service revolver and shot you in the gut, at point blank range." She blinked, eyes suddenly glassy with unshed tears. "I'm the one who killed you."

For a moment, Steve was on the steps again, Sharon stepping forward and grabbing at him as he started to fall, and there was another gunshot, loud in his ears as the final bullet slammed into him and he was lying on the steps, choking on air thick with cordite and blood, and it didn't hurt; it should have hurt, but there was only the dull sense of the impact--

"No you didn't," Steve said. "There was a sniper. Crossbones." Bucky had said it was Crossbones. Bucky had said they had killed him. "It was Crossbones."

Sharon shook her head. "He fired the first bullet. I fired the rest."

Steve shook his head in mute denial. He could actually feel the blood draining out of his face. "You didn't," he repeated.

Sharon was shaking her head now, arms folded across her stomach. The tears in her eyes were threatening to spill over. "Steve," she insisted, voice very soft, "I killed you."

He was still shaking his head, Steve realized. He had no memory of anything like what she was telling him, but his mind had blocked away memories before. She didn't mean it," Bucky had said, "And it wasn't really her." If Faustus had brainwashed her... "You didn't kill me," he told her. "It doesn't matter who pulled the trigger; Red Skull is the one who set me up."

"It does matter." Sharon was looking away from him again. "It makes no difference whether or not I wanted to do it. I did it, and you were dead."

He'd had this conversation before, Steve thought, remembering Tony, and for one half-hysterical second he was tempted to laugh, but Sharon probably would have hit him for that, and that wouldn't help anything. He reached out and cupped the side of her face in one hand, turning her chin up gently to make her meet his eyes. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "And hey, I came back." He tried a tentative smile.

Sharon glared at him, and pulled away from his hand. Then she offered him a weak smile of her own. "James said you'd say that."

"James?" Steve said blankly.

"He does have a name that isn't Bucky, you know." Sharon hesitated, as if about to say something else.

Steve stepped forward and hugged her. "It wasn't your fault," he said again. Sharon was stiff in his arms for a moment, then relaxed, and hugged him back fiercely. "Be careful in DC," he told her.

"You'd better be here when I get back," she said. She stepped back, still wearing a brave smile, and followed Bucky's path down the hall, boot-heels clicking on the metal deck plates.

Steve stared after her, feeling dazed. After this, telling her about him and Tony seemed insignificant.

The conference rooms on the Helicarrier were both too brightly lit and about five degrees too cold for real comfort. It was a design flaw, and one that he should have known better than to commit even at twenty three -- unless Fury had deliberate played with the environmental controls as some subtle form of psychological intimidation.

Dugan had just finished explaining that SHIELD was working on restoring control of the compromised satellites -- another design flaw. Red Skull shouldn't have been able to get his hands on them in the first place. Good thing Tony had a back door in, even if it was something of a risky one.

"I'm going to need to keep moving," Tony told Fury. "They shouldn't be able to get a lock on my location too quickly; as long as I keep a low profile, and don't stay anywhere for more than a day or so, it ought to be all right." That was a bit of an exaggeration -- even one broadcast ought to be enough to trace him, if Red Skull's people were any good -- but as long as he stayed mobile, he should be able to stay one step ahead of Skull's minions.

Steve frowned, finally looking up from the conference table. "You'll need someone to watch your back," he said. "I'll go with you."

Tony stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by the offer. Steve hadn't even looked at him since they'd entered the conference room, staring steadily at the table as if he were trying to pretend that Tony didn't exist. He couldn't have broadcasted "I'm having second thoughts" more clearly if he'd said it aloud. But being Steve, he was ready to go where he was needed anyway.

Last night had been a mistake. Tony had known that from the start, but been too selfishly weak to say no to something he'd wanted so desperately for so long. Given a few hours to think about it, it only became more obvious what a bad idea it was; after everything he'd done, it was unfair to tie Steve to him like that.

He turned back to Fury, not wanting to see those same thoughts reflected on Steve's face.

"Yer going to have to keep a low profile," Fury stated, determinedly oblivious to the tension in the room. The New Avengers were glaring at Tony resentfully, and Falcon was staring at Steve with raised eyebrows.

Tony resisted the impulse to tug his shirt collar higher. He had an uncomfortable feeling Falcon knew what had happened between him and Steve last night. The other man had cornered him before the meeting started, just long enough to make his feelings regarding Tony clear. "You're a sell out and you're still a sell out," he had said. "I don't know what you did to him to get Steve to change his mind about you, but as far as I'm concerned, you don't deserve his forgiveness."

"That's Steve's business," Tony had told him -- and it was, but it didn't change the fact that Falcon was right. He didn't deserve Steve's forgiveness. He didn't deserve Steve.

"You're sure you don't want to come with us?" Peter looked crestfallen, even through the mask.

Steve looked torn. Of course he would want to go with the New Avengers; they were his team, and were going to be in the thick of the action, while Tony was mostly going to be trying to stay out of sight. He would have his work cut out for him, but whoever went with him was basically going to be a glorified babysitter. Steve would be wasted with him.

Of course, Steve would still work with him, would never put the world at risk over his own feelings. Maybe last night had served as a form of catharsis for Steve, a way of working out whatever might have been between them. A way for him to lay any feelings that he might have for Tony to rest, so that they could work together and keep things just business.

"Hey, this way Cap can keep an eye on Stark," Luke said, glaring at Tony. From the other side of Peter, Spiderwoman was staring at him with identical mistrust; he couldn't exactly blame her. "Make sure everything's on the level." Luke leaned his elbows on the table and loomed forward, as much as anyone could loom while sitting in a chair. Beside him, Danny shifted the baby to his shoulder, narrowing his eyes in a way that looked highly incongruous coming from a man holding a baby.

Steve didn't owe him anything for last night; if anything, it was the other way around. "You don't have to," he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall so he wouldn't have to see the relief on Steve's face as Tony gave him an out. Last night was something that Tony had wanted for so long, and even knowing that he didn't deserve it, that he had no right to expect Steve to feel the way he did, the thought of seeing anything like rejection hurt.

"I should probably be keeping a low profile, too," Steve said. "And Fury knows my opinions about going into Latveria."

"Right, right," Fury said, sounding faintly amused. "If that's what yer set on doing, God knows no one's going to be able to change yer mind." He turned to Agent Carter and Winter Soldier. "All right, you're not on the SHIELD network; you've got communications already. I want you in DC yesterday, before Red Skull leaves us another anthrax bomb."

"Yes, sir," Agent Carter said. Throughout the meeting, she had kept glancing at Steve, then quickly looking away. Tony wondered if she had told him what had happened yet; he had only seen the autopsy reports, but it had been easy enough to piece together, particularly after they had found pieces of Doctor Faustus in an old warehouse.

It made Tony a little sick to think of what must have happened. That kind of betrayal, even when it was completely unintentional, hurt. And being forced to do that was the only thing he could think of that would be worse.

"He probably won't use anthrax twice," Winter Soldier said.

Steve looked towards Winter Soldier at the comment, smiling ever-so-slightly in that way that made it obvious he was seeing his old sidekick and not the slightly-creepy cyborg assassin everyone else saw. It was good that Bucky was here. Good that Sam was here. God knew Steve could use his family around him at the moment.

"Yes he will; he likes biological weapons," Steve said. Not to mention that although Red Skull was an incredible threat, he was also somewhat predictable.

Winter Soldier stopped leaning against the wall and stood up straight, turning to go. Agent Carter took a step after him, then turned back. "Steve-" she started to say.

"I'll walk you out," Steve interrupted, jumping to his feet.

Tony open his mouth to call Steve back, then caught himself. Steve had a right to know what had happened to him, no matter how much Tony wanted to shield him from it. Steve shouldn't have to know about that final betrayal, but it was also between him and Agent Carter, and Tony had no right to interfere.

And not telling Steve things in order to protect him had worked out so well last time.

"Hug your baby brother goodbye and then get back in here, Rogers," Fury said.

Winter Soldier said something in Russian that needed no translation, and left the room, Steve and Agent Carter on his heels. Tony watched them go, wishing he could...

"You sure you can handle this, Stark?" Fury's voice jerked him back to the matter at hand.

"Handle what?" Tony asked.

"The part where the computers in your head make you go crazy."

It was almost refreshing, Tony mused, to have someone around who mistrusted him because he'd once been brainwashed into killing people, rather than over registration. Fury was right to not trust him, even if it wasn't for quite the right reasons.

"That wasn't actually the Extremis," Tony reminded him. "I was brainwashed." He'd been completely unable to remember anything he had done while being controlled, but he would never forget the sight of those two men he'd dropped hitting the ground. He couldn't remember anything after that, still wasn't sure how he'd gotten from Iraq to Sal's doorstep. He just hoped he hadn't caused any more damage on the way. He'd been turned into a puppet, manipulated the same way the Scarlet Witch had manipulated him, only worse.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot how you went all Manchurian Candidate on us, before you turned into a Quisling," Peter said, sarcasm palpable in his voice.

It wasn't funny, but Tony's lips twitched anyway; the only reason Peter could toss that particular historical comparison around was because Tony had explained it to him, after Peter had thrown up his hands in confusion over yet another piece of Steve's anachronistic slang.

Losing Peter's respect was just one more regret to add to a very long list.

"You know as well as I do that there are side effects," Fury said, his one eye pinning Tony with a level, penetrating stare.

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "I can handle it," he said. That first euphoric rush at suddenly having access to all that information had long passed, and a few headaches were nothing to worry about.

"Right." Fury snorted. "How much sleep are you going to need?"

Communications would have to go down while he slept; obviously, the less time he was out, the better. "Four hours a day should be sufficient," Tony said.

Luke frowned. "You telling me there's gonna be a four hour communications blackout every day while Stark sleeps?" he said, addressing Fury. "What the hell are we supposed to do then?"

"The same thing you'd do if Stark wasn't here," Fury said, meeting Luke's gaze with his own.

There was a moment of silence, and the fact that they wouldn't have been in this position if it weren't for him in the first place couldn't have resounded more loudly if someone had shouted it.

"Fer God's sakes," Fury said, waving his cigar at the assembled crowd. "You all know what yer supposed to be doing. What the hell is everyone doing still sitting here, wasting time?"

As they filed out of the room, Tony overheard Peter say to the New Avengers, "Since when is Nick Fury in charge of us?"

"You want to argue with him?" Spiderwoman asked archly.

Tony waited until the two groups of Avengers had trailed out of the room before leaving himself; he wasn't ready to face any of them at the moment.

Steve was still in the hall when Tony finally left the conference room, standing about ten yards from the door. He looked shellshocked, as if someone had pulled the ground out from under his feet. Tony hesitated for a fraction of a second, then walked over to him; no matter how Steve felt about him now, he couldn't leave him like that.

"She told you, didn't she," Tony said, when he was standing at Steve's side. There weren't many things he could think of that would affect Steve this badly, but knowing what had happened with Sharon certainly would.

"How did you know?" Steve asked, voice strangely calm.

"Maria Hill left the autopsy photographs on my desk," Tony said, looking away. That hadn't been necessary; the labs had a digital security camera, but Agent Hill hadn't known that. And Steve didn't need to know, either.

"They did an autopsy?" There was a note of trepidation in his voice, as if he didn't really want to know the answer.

Instinctively, Tony reached out a hand to Steve. He caught himself before he could make contact though; he had no idea whether Steve would want that from him anymore, and had no right to try and force it on him.

Apparently, at least at the moment, Steve did; he took a step towards Tony, such that Tony's fingers were just brushing his bicep. Tony curled his fingers, squeezing Steve's arm tightly, and Steve closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

After a long moment, Tony stepped back, and said, "Nick Fury's hurrying everyone out. We should probably go pack."

Steve turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm wearing everything I have," he said.

"I think most of your things are in storage somewhere," Tony said, frowning thoughtfully. "You'll have to ask Jarvis."

Unfortunately, they'd need to find at least some clothes for him now; Steve wasn't exactly inconspicuous in his costume. Most of his clothing wouldn't fit Steve horribly well, but there had to be someone on the Helicarrier...

"No time." Suddenly hearing Nick Fury's gravelly voice behind him almost made Tony jump, but he controlled the impulse in time. "Don't worry," Fury went on. "I'll scare something up for ya."

As Fury dragged him off down the hall, Steve shot Tony an apprehensive look that made Tony smile. He wouldn't want to be dressed by Nick Fury either.

Carol was waiting for Tony outside his room, leaning against the door, expression set. Tony approached her a little warily; she obviously had something to say, and he wasn't sure that he would have an answer.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Carol said without preamble.

"What?" Tony asked. Very little that he'd done lately had been a good idea; Carol had her pick of mistakes to choose from.

"Going off alone with Steve," Carol said, folding her arms over her chest. "You were at each other's throats two months ago - you couldn't say his name last week." She raised blonde eyebrows, giving him an intense look. "Do you really think spending an extended period of time alone together is really the best idea?"

During the fight over registration, Tony had done his best to keep anyone from knowing what fighting Steve had done to him. The only two people he'd come close to telling were Happy, and Steve. Happy had died, and Steve...

Tony looked at Carol. "We're working things out," he said. "And it's a good sign to everyone that both sides are in this together now, and we all have to play nice." He paused. "Are you going to be able to handle working with Spiderwoman?" Carol had never said anything directly, but he knew there was something going on between the two women -- they'd been friends once, too, if nothing else.

"I'll be able to handle her just fine," Carol said grimly. "I -- look. Are you okay?"

Tony almost smiled at that; the answer should have been obvious at this point. If it had been someone else, he might have tried to lie, but Carol deserved better than that. "No," he admitted,
"but I can deal with that when this is over."

Two days ago, Tony had known, with an all-consuming certainty, that he had as good as sold his soul for a cheap compromise, and the only thing that had been keeping him going was the knowledge that if he stopped, someone else would take over SHIELD and registration, and then Steve would have died for nothing. And hard as it had been, he couldn't let that happen.

But Steve was back now. And that made all the difference.

"You'd better," Carol said, giving him a hard look. Then she clapped him on the shoulder, and nodded at him, before walking off down the hall, sash snapping behind her.

There was a morbid part of Steve that wanted to know how Nick Fury managed to destroy his clothes so thoroughly, but it was probably better for the sake of his sanity that he didn't. He had ended up borrowing a pair of jeans from Nick that were frayed around the cuffs, but otherwise intact, but he'd flatly refused to wear any of Nick's shirts. Most of them looked like they'd been through a wood-chipper. He'd ended up borrowing a shirt from Luke again, one of the thin, white cotton ones that made Steve feel uncomfortably like he was in nothing but an undershirt. It was better than anything of Nick's, though.

Standing in the dimly lit hall outside the Helicarrier's garage, Steve tugged at one of the straps of Luke's shirt. He was going to have to find something to wear over it; it was early March, and he'd look ridiculously underdressed, if nothing else. Much as he hated having to beg and borrow things from people, Tony would probably have something he could wear.

Steve let go of the strap of Luke's shirt, and picked up his artist's folio from where he had leant it against the dull grey wall. At least Nick had still had one of the old portfolios he used to carry his shield in; he might not be using it, but there was no way he was going in to the field unarmed.

And apparently, neither was Tony; he'd finally arrived, carrying his briefcase. He had a small duffle bag in the other hand, a computer bag slung over his shoulder, and was wearing a shapeless sweater that might have been green once that he'd acquired from somewhere. Steve vaguely remembered that one of his secretaries -- not Pepper -- had knit it for him.

Steve smiled, seeing him; he looked about as far from the director of SHIELD, or the collected head of Stark Enterprises as possible.

"Sorry," Tony said, coming to a stop a few feet in from of Steve, shifting his weight a little uncomfortably. "That took longer than I thought it would. Apparently, half of SHIELD has just decided that I'm actually in charge of them, and there are decisions that can't be made without my direct input." He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I think Fury's sending them to me as some arcane form of punishment. I'm just not sure whether they're being punished, or I am."

"Knowing Nick, both, probably," Steve admitted. "Look, I feel like I'm wearing an undershirt. Do you have something that I could put on over this?" he asked, gesturing at Luke's shirt.

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking him over in a way that made Steve want to blush, or possibly just grin back like an idiot. "I've got a button-down shirt you can put on over that," Tony said, dropping the duffle bag, and kneeling to unzip it. He took out a plain blue cotton shirt that Steve knew he mostly wore for working in the lab, and handed it to Steve.

"Thank you," Steve said, pulling it on, tugging absently at the front. It was a little tight around the shoulders, and didn't quite close across his chest, but it was infinitely better than nothing.

Tony stood, picking up his bag again. In contrast to the almost flirtatious once-over he had just given Steve, there was a blank, closed expression on his face. "We'll take one of the cars over to the docks, and leave it there with SHIELD agents that are heading down to DC," he said.

"All right," Steve replied, automatically reaching out and taking the duffle bag from Tony, who frowned at him, looking baffled.

Steve gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "We'll attract less attention if you're not loaded down like a pack horse," he said, wincing inwardly. What had possessed him to do that?

Tony nodded. "You're right." He glanced towards the door to the large bay where the Helicarrier kept its array of flying cars. "We should go," he said.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Steve asked, pushing open the door to the garage.

The ride out to the docks was quiet. Steve drove, while Tony stared at the shifting green and blue water outside the window. He seemed vaguely distracted, and Steve wondered if he'd started monitoring data feeds, playing dispatch for the SHIELD agents already out in the field. He knew that using the Extremis took some degree of concentration, and he wasn't sure how much this sort of thing would require.

They handed the car over to the three SHIELD agents that were being sent to help Sam, Jan and Bob handle the official side of things in DC, and made their way further into Manhattan on foot. Nick had made arrangements for them to stay at the St. Mark's for the first night; Steve had always known the man had a warped sense of humor.

The man behind the desk at the hotel gave them a suspicious look when they walked in; Steve could only guess that the somewhat down at the heel hotel in the heart of Greenwich Village didn't get many respectable-looking guests. However, the man's face cleared when Tony gave him the fake name that Nick had placed the reservation under; Steve understood why when he saw that their room had only one bed.

Apparently, it really was impossible to keep anything a secret from Nick Fury.

Other than the single bed, the room was fairly unremarkable: a rickety night table on either side of the bed, a luggage stand by the door, and a wooden table set against the far wall, between the two small, streaky windows that let in the muffled noises of the street below.

Tony set the briefcase with his armor against the wall by the door, and placed the bag with the laptop in it on the table, while Steve dropped the duffle bag on the luggage rack.

Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot, watching as Tony wandered restlessly around the perimeter of the room.

It was strange, after they'd been friends for so many years, to feel at all awkward around Tony

Tony finally paused by the edge of the bed. He stared down at the faded floral cover for a long moment, before turning to face Steve. "We don't have to do this," he said. "It's probably a mistake." The grey sweater and the harsh glare of the naked light bulb in the ceiling made him look washed out, and one night's sleep hadn't been enough to erase the dark circles under his eyes.

"Which mistake are you talking about?" Steve asked.

"You and me," he said, waving a hand at Steve and then himself. "This isn't the best time for either of us to start any kind of relationship, and I don't want you to think that just because I'm a mess, and you slept with me, you're somehow obligated--"

"So," Steve interrupted. "How much concentration does it take to monitor all those data feeds?"

"Not much right now," Tony said, frowning at him. "Most of our agents aren't in place yet."

"Good," Steve said, grinning a little. He took a long step forward, so that he was standing directly in front of Tony. "That means it's safe to distract you." He leaned forward the last bit, and kissed Tony a bit hesitantly; the first time, he'd been carried away by the heat of the moment, and he'd barely known what he was planning to do before he'd done it. This time, Steve knew exactly what he was doing.

Tony stood stock still for a long moment, not responding, before he began kissing back, shuffling forward half a step so that he was pressed against Steve. Steve wrapped an arm around Tony's waist, and Tony clutched at the front of his shirt with one hand, the other warm against the back of Steve's neck.

They stayed like that, kissing, pressed against one another for long minutes, before Steve pulled back a little. He untangled Tony's hand from his shirt, bringing it to his lips, and kissed it. Tony had nice hands with long, tapered fingers and big knuckles, and in spite of the polished businessman façade that he often wore, Tony's hands were generally covered with little nicks and cuts from working in the lab, although there were more there now than Steve had remembered; little white lines scattered across his knuckles and the backs of his hands, the cuts increasing in length as they drew closer to his wrists

Tony began kissing the side of Steve's neck, trailing downwards. Steve placed Tony's hand on his shoulder, and unbuttoned the collar of Tony's shirt. He pressed a kiss over the dark bruise at the base of Tony's neck, before taking another step forward, tangling their legs together, and knocking them back on to the bed.

Tony smiled up at him, eyes veiled, hand flat against Steve's chest, sliding up under his borrowed shirt.

Steve couldn't help but think that in spite of everything they had gone through, in the end, this might be worth it. But he couldn't ignore the tiny, wistful voice that pointed out that they could have done this years ago, and that it might have saved them all kinds of trouble if they had.

As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorites-listed, or otherwise commented on or encouraged us over the past five chapters.