Bucky stands frozen in place as Sam vaults over the wooden bench in front of them and disappears down the hallway that Bucky's pretty sure the prisoners usually come out of. He feels Natasha's claw-like grip on his wrist and he can't decide if the choking sound is coming from Clint or Tony, but his mind supplies Clint, because historically Clint has thrown up more often.
Speaking of throw up.
Bucky's eyes watch the blood as it drips and trails down from the podium where Steve just was a second ago.
Vomiting blood.
And everything horrifying clicks into place.
Sam's agitation about how often Steve was vomiting. Him asking Natasha to keep him informed.
The amount of times Steve had complained about his stomach before falling silent about the subject all together. Steve's lack of appetite.
New autoimmune condition
The courtroom is still in chaos as he follows Sam's path and blasts through the wooden swinging door.
—
His eyes catch on the snippets of blood as it leaves a murderous trail for him to follow.
Drops and smudges and even half a handprint as he rounds a corner and hears Sam talking.
He freezes, seeing Steve curled into a tight ball against a trash can. Sam scoops him up and holds him close, sliding to the floor and talking. Holding Steve's head to his chest and absently brushing at his hair as his other hands grips around Steve's arms. Bucky can't process his actions, but he haltingly walks forward, looking at his best friend who lookes like someone tried to murder him. Blood in his hair, and on his hands and down the front of his suit.
He drops to his knees and reaches out, holding Steve's slick hand.
Steve's eyes are closed and his breathing is too wheezy and Bucky reaches into his pockets, searching for the inhaler he knows is there. It's autopilot. He's not registering his actions, just doing them. He finds the inhaler, pops off the cap and lifts it to Steve's lips. Forcing it between his teeth and mumbling some form of the instruction, breathe.
A few puffs and Steve's breathing starts to ease and Bucky can hear more feet and voices coming their way. But Sam just holds Steve to his chest tighter.
Bucky turns, expecting Natasha or Tony but sees a red-face furious Howard Stark instead. The man crashes to his knees in front of Sam and gently pulls Steve's chin away from Sam.
"Steve." The man's voice is boiling furious, but he's trying to remain calm for Steve, "Steve, look at me." Bucky sags in relief at the blue eyes that appear behind the incredibly thick lenses. "They just made the biggest fucking mistake in their entire sad and worthless careers. You hear me? That scumbag farce of a lawyer just played the wrong fucking card. He's not even at the right table, you hear me? That stunt he just pulled in there, will be the last one he ever makes. Do you understand?"
Steve doesn't move, or blink, or respond. Just listens. Howard sighs, "they've given us a recess until tomorrow. The so-called 'evidence' that piece of shit brought up was never entered into our case files and therefore cannot be included in the final decision. But we're not letting that go. They're trying to twist it to be your fault, that means they've got something to hide. Or their going for sensationalism in the courtroom instead of proper proceedings. But they just poked the wrong damn bear, you hear me? They better enjoy the sunshine while they have it, because when I'm done with them, they'll never see the light of day again."
"What the hell was that?" Sam asks, his voice also at a level of fury that Bucky's never heard. "How could they say such outlandish lies?"
"That's bullshit lawyering for you. State a piece of evidence that's only 5% true and suddenly the court believes the other 95%. It's bullshit and I'm not allowing it. The accusations they threw were only meant to unsettle us, but they won't hold up under investigation in the slightest. That fucker just thought he'd try to pull a fast one and we'd crumble. He doesn't know jack-shit about what I'm capable of. He's going to wish he never even said the name Steve Rogers."
And suddenly, Bucky is more terrified of Howard Stark in that moment than he's ever been or ever will be again.
Steve just closes his eyes again and pulls his hand out of Bucky's grasp and tucks his face into his knees.
—
Tony's still in shock. He tries to follow after Bucky but his dad had orders the three of them to "stay there".
"What! No!" He tries to protest, but his father gives him such an intense and furious glare that Tony backs down.
"Stay here, and keep that shitbag from saying anything else." Howard hisses, before following after where Sam and Bucky had disappeared.
Clint is staring daggers at the brothers who are sitting calm and collected in their chairs and the judge is talking to the lawyers. The defense attorney looking pleased as peaches at himself.
Natasha is whispering in a language that Tony doesn't speak, but he can tell just by the way she speaks that he would be impressed with the vitriol she is hissing towards them.
—
The courtroom begins to clear and only when it's empty do his father and the rest make an appearance. Only the judge remains. Steve immediately approaches the bench getting his attention.
"Judge Phillips?" He hears Steve ask quietly.
"Yes, Mr. Rogers?"
"I'm sorry about the mess and then running out. Is there a janitor's area where I can get cleaning supplies?"
The room goes still as they wait for the judge to respond.
Tony swears the man's eyes soften just a smidge as he leans over his desk and peers down at Steve. "The professionals have been alerted and will clean it once we've cleared. As for the display today… I don't enjoy theatrics in my courtroom," he says gruffly, but raising an amused eyebrow at Steve, "I'm sure you've more to give us than that."
Steve looks at him seriously and nods, "yes, sir. I do."
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
The judge disappears behind his door and Steve stands there quietly until Sam shuffles him along to the car.
—-
Steve showers with the door cracked. When he'd whispered he was going to get cleaned off, 6 pairs of worried eyes had turned to him and he had sighed. "I'm not taking a bath. Just a shower." When they hadn't relented their stares, he'd huffed again. "I'll leave the door open." He'd snapped before stomping off and up the stairs.
Now he scrubs the blood out of his fingernails and off his face and chest.
The suit had been thrown out. Howard promising a fresh one for tomorrow, which Steve, unable to shake the words from the lawyer this morning, had tried to protest against.
But Howard had looked at him with such a glare that he'd sighed and given in.
Now the hot water rinses the day's events from him and he steps out of the shower, toweling his sharp frame off, more calm than he's felt in months.
Now they know. No more secrets.
He dresses and walks down the stairs to where he knows they're waiting. Sam and Howard had held them off long enough. But he knew they wouldn't wait forever.
The other kids are with Sarah, out eating at some restaurant with games and prizes and here he was facing 2 pairs of knowing, and 4 pairs of unknowing eyes.
He settles into one of the bean bags, and looks at the four friends in front of him.
"So." He says, eyes on the coffee table, "I'm sure you're curious about what that lawyer meant."
He expects them to explode at him, but they stay silent and as he looks up, a little bit of that fear of telling them pops up at the sheer amount of dread on their faces.
"I wasn't feeling so great the last couple months and…" he looks over at Sam who nods encouragingly, and he takes a deep breath, "when I started feeling worse… I went to the doctor and they did some tests and. it turns out…" he tries to stay clinical, detached, "that I have an autoimmune disorder, and it's not a great one. But…" he looks up at them and they look like they've seen a ghost, so he cuts the details, "I've been working again with Howard, and going to the doctor with Sam, and we're doing what we can." He stops there. Not going into anymore detail, but Howard's throat clears strangely and Tony's eyes snap to his dad's before coming back to Steve's.
"So that's why you're vomiting blood?"
"Stress has been a major factor," Steve says simply, keeping his tone even, "but yes, it's one of the symptoms."
"Which disorder?" Clint asks, his phone in his hands. And Steve knows with one google search he'd be toast.
"Just one of them." Steve says a tad bit hastily, "nothing to worry about. You know me, I've got everything in the books, this is just part of that." So much for no more secrets.
"You're not trying to trivialize the shit show we just watched." Tony snaps, "you've been vomiting blood for months haven't you. That's why I found blood under the toilet seat at my house, isn't it?"
Bucky, Natasha, and Clint's heads whip to Tony and Sam's and Howard's whip to Steve's and he winces, "sorry, if I'd known it was there I would have cleaned it up. My apologies."
"You're apologies?" Tony snaps, "what the hell, Steve! How could you keep this from us! We're your friends! We—" He cuts off and glares at Steve, "you—" he huffs and clenches his fists.
"Why not tell us?"
This Steve is prepared to answer.
"If a single one of you, can look me in the eye, and truthfully tell me that having this knowledge isn't going to change the way you think about me, or interact with me, or affect what you let me do or live my life, then I'll apologize straight away for being mistaken." He glares at them, waiting to see. But they stay silent. And he nods. "Just like I expected. I only have so many years left. I'm not going to waste them living in your guys' opinions of what I should and shouldn't do."
"What do you mean?" Bukcy asks harshly.
"I mean, I'm not going to live in a bubble just because you guys are worr—"
"No." Bucky hisses through gritted teeth, eyes pinned on him, "you said 'I only have so many years left'. What the hell does that mean?"
Sam and Howard stiffen and Steve wants to groan at his poor choice of words.
"Bucky, you know about my heart. You know the doc said thirty was a—"
"No." Bucky snaps. "No more lies—" Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Bucky cuts him off, "or lies by omission."
He closes his mouth at that.
"How long." Clint asks flatly, his eyes dark and his words mirroring Steve's in that appointment all those months ago.
"Guys—" Steve starts, trying to change the subject, but his non-answer puts them on edge.
"How long, Steve!" Tony shouts, standing up, "it's a simple fucking question."
And Steve shoves himself off the beanbag, glaring at Tony, "you want the truth?"
"Yes." Clint and Natasha chorus at the same time.
"Okay, here's the truth. But once I tell you, I better not hear a damn thing about it. You hear me? Once you know, that's it. No talks, no plans, no sympathy or pity or anything. Deal?"
They're silent. And he throws his hands up in an okay, fine gesture. He takes a step towards the door, if they don't want know, then fine. Better for him.
"Steve—" Bucky's voice is brittle and it stops him in his tracks, "okay. Okay, Steve. Deal."
He looks at them and then hears the words that have been rattling around in his brain since the doctor said them.
"Less than 5 years." He says with no emotion.
—
Bucky chokes, practically falling off the couch as Steve tells them his prognosis.
Tony's visibly vibrating in fury and Natasha's fingers are clenching her knees so hard, he's surprised he doesn't hear them crack.
Clint is on his feet, about to shout something when the doorbell rings.
It makes all of them freeze, and Sam stands slowly making his way out of the room and towards the front door. They hear him open it and the quiet exchange of words.
"Howard, Steve?" Sam calls, "could you come here?"
Steve walks out and hears Howard follow him, they walk to the front door where a man with red lens glasses and a walking cane stands at the doorway.
Sam looks at them with an uncertain expression and gestures to the man. "This is Mr. Matthew Murdock. He's a lawyer and he'd like to speak to us about the case?"
Steve blinks in surprise and watches as the man tilts his head in a fashion that is weirdly familiar. And it hits him, he's using his ears to compensate for his eyes.
"Hello." The man says with a smile, "like Mr. Wilson explained, my name is Matt Murdock and I'm a lawyer. I've been following your case for the duration and would like to offer my services after the debacle that was today." He hands Steve a business card that says, Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law.
"We already have a lawyer." Howard says with a hint of annoyance.
"Not like me, you don't." The man says with utter confidence. "I'm a really good lawyer. Better than money can buy."
Howard scoffs but something about him draws Steve closer a step. "What do you mean?" He asks, curious.
"I can tell when people are lying." The man says with a laugh, "and I care about my clients. Not the money."
Howard scoffs again, but Steve doesn't hesitate to say, "prove the lying thing."
The man leans down, getting right into Steve's eyeline, which Steve feels is already eerily strange. Maybe he's not fully blind. "Tell me two truths and a lie. And I'll tell you which one's the lie."
Steve thinks about it for a second and then starts, "I broke my pinky when I was 13, and it healed wrong and I can't feel it. Or, my mom and I were in a bus crash when I was 4, or my dad broke his leg while hanging Christmas lights when he was young."
Mr. Murdock looks at him and taps his chest. "You're good. I'll give you that. But you've never been in a bus crash."
Steve smiles, "you're good, how'd you know?"
The man taps his chest, "your heart tells me the truth."
"You can hear my heart?" Steve asks incredulously.
"Not really." The man says with a smile, "just figuratively. Everyone has a tell. I just read people really well. I'd like to take your case Steve, if you're amiable."
Steve looks up at Howard who looks annoyed. "Oh yeah? And how much do you cost?"
"Like I said. I don't care about the money. Especially in cases like this. I'd work pro bono. I have a lot of things to say about how the courtroom was handled today. I won't let those boys walk free. What do you say?"
Steve looks at Sam who looks at Howard.
"We can't just hire some random guy off the street!" Howards huffs. "We don't know who he is!"
"I'm the guy who figured out what car has your security detail in it." The man says with a raised eyebrow. "Blue Honda Civic. 6 cars back, man with black baseball cap. I'm the guy who has a connection at the bank the defense attorney mentioned Sarah Roger's insurance policy is at. I'm the guy who knows how to circumvent so-called 'stated evidence' that needs to be retracted in front of the jury. I'm the guy who knows people at the clerk's office who can prove their records are dirty."
"How?" Sam asks dumbfounded.
"I've been following this case for the duration." He says firmly, "and like I said, I'm a really good lawyer."
Howard looks at Steve. "It's your case. It's up to you. No more choices that I take away." Steve looks at him and nods gratefully before turning back to the man at the door.
Steve looks up at him. "You know all about me already, don't you."
The man looks at Steve and extends his hand in a handshake, "Indeed I do, Steve Rogers. Which is exactly how I'm going to prove those scumbags are liars."
Without thinking, Steve accepts the handshake, returning it firmly.
"Great." The man says. "We resume tomorrow and we have a lot of prep work to do. So let's get to it." He reaches down to a briefcase that Steve hadn't noticed until this moment.
And something like confidence that this man means exactly what he says, settles in Steve's chest. "Okay." He responds. "Let's do it."
—