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"You're going to turn yourself in," Natasha said from her spot leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. Steve ran a hand down his freshly shaven jaw, glad to have the monstrosity of a beard gone. It had been itchy and uncomfortable, and no matter how many times Natasha had told him it looked good and was a sure-fire way of getting Tony to forgive him, he was glad it was gone. She also said that he looked good as a brunette, but the weird dye she had gotten was mostly washed out again, leaving the top of his head a dirty blond. It was nice to see him looking so much like himself after all those months of running after the Sokovia Accords.
Natasha took a step in closer, arms still across her chest, eyebrow quirked up. She was blonde now, which had taken awhile for Steve to get used to. He missed the crimson hair she used to sport. Even the slightly more auburn was easier to see her as. The blonde was startling. And yet, it suited her. Which wasn't all that surprising.
"I'm the one who did the worst of it. I'll take the blame, you guys'll get a slap on the wrist. Everything will be fine," Steve told her, still looking at her through the mirror. Her green eyes stayed on him, an inquisitive glint sparking. Natasha was always observing her surroundings, piecing together any information she could. So, she knew that that wasn't the whole truth. Her perfectly coiffed eyebrow raised higher and Steve sighed, turned, and leaned back against the sink. He ran a hand through his newly blond hair again and crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking Nat's posture. "And that way, Tony doesn't have to be alone."
There was a hint of sadness in those green eyes as Nat stepped forward, putting a hand on Steve's bicep and giving it a squeeze, "You knew he probably wasn't going to call when you sent him the phone, Steve. He needs time to heal. This probably hurt him a lot more than you, physically and emotionally."
Steve tried to shake the memories that rushed to the foreground of his mind. Tony, laying on the cold cement ground in Siberia, mask ripped away and face bloody, the expression one of distasteful acceptance. He had been ready to die. He had seen Steve over him, shield poised to slam down, and he had barely done a thing to stop it. And he could have. Steve hadn't realized it then, the adrenaline, the need to keep Bucky safe restricting any other thought, but he had stalled, gave Tony time to send a repulsor at Steve to knock him off. It hadn't happened, and Steve slammed the shield down into the arc reactor.
And just a week before, Steve and Tony had been spending a lazy Sunday together in bed, Tony working on SI things on his tablet while Steve had drawn. Every once in a while, they had shared a lazy kiss or Tony had put his tablet aside and pushed the sketchbook off of Steve's lap to find his way between Steve's thighs. It had been nice.
But, whatever relationship they had formed after Ultron was shattered because of Steve's choices.
"I don't expect him to forgive me," Steve told her seriously, no matter how much it ached in his chest to admit. He hoped Tony forgave him. It was wishful thinking, but God, did he hope that Tony forgave him. "It's not really going to matter that much anyway. I'll see him at the trial, probably, but I doubt he'll speak to me."
"Why don't you give it a little more time," Natasha said, her voice soft. Her hand was still resting on Steve's arm, trying to give him the comfort he desperately wanted from someone else. But, he wasn't just doing this so that Tony could have the team back. Both Clint and Scott had families they had to get back to, and Sam had the VA. Plus, Wanda was missing Vision, no matter how much she was denying it. The two of them had something happening before the fight at the airport happened, and Steve felt the familiar guilt settle low in his gut of dragging all of them into his battle.
He was sure even Natasha had something in America to get back to, no matter how much she said that she used to this. Maybe Bruce had shown up after the years he's been away. And even though Natasha was here with him now, she had signed the Accords and was violating them by being in the same bathroom with him. They all deserved to go home.
As for Bucky, he'd have to figure that out after he was sure the brainwashing had been wiped from his mind. Steve would be forever grateful and in T'Challa's and Shuri's debt.
Steve gave Nat a look, who sighed, squeezed his arm once more, before taking a step back. "I'm pretty sure one of the revisions Tony made first was that they couldn't throw us in the Raft, no matter what Ross says. Hopefully, we'll get to visit."
"I'm Captain America, the Golden boy, of course I'll get visitors," Steve scoffed, keeping his voice light and joking. Natasha just gave him a look, before she was turning away and making her way out of the bathroom.
▫ ▫ ▫
Steve had managed to get a flight back to New York, get on without being detected, even without the beard. Sure, the baseball cap and glasses he had once sported while on the run with Natasha way back when had helped make it easier, but he was still able to board with minimal problems. Clint, Scott, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha had all said their goodbyes in the apartment they had rented that week, not wanting to risk being arrested in case this didn't go well for Steve.
After their hugs and advice, he hefted the dufflebag of clothes onto his shoulder, fixing the cap better over his hair, and sent one last wave of goodbye. Then came the flight back to the U.S., sitting in the back of the plane and keeping his head down.
When he landed in New York, he took off his hat and glasses, stuffed them in his duffle, ran a hand through his hair, and walked outside with his hands raised. He was greeted with the police and agents he expected, knows they were called the minute he was recognized. Steve let four of them walk forward, take his bag before slapping on the handcuffs and reading him his rights.
He's put in a cell by himself, a guard always stationed outside the bars and he's sure there's a video camera monitored twenty-four seven. It's not like Steve is going to try to do anything. He's tired of running, tired of fighting. And if going to jail for however long it is gets the team back together without him to deal with whatever threats are out there, he's gladly sacrificing his freedom for that. So, he sleeps on the small cot pushed against the one corner of the small room, uses the toilet attached to the wall, and eats the food they give him without argument. Steve knows this cell isn't permanent, knows that they're getting a trial ready. He's ready to plead guilty, but try to negotiate a way for the others to have a less severe sentence. Something that will let them still do good.
Tony comes on the fourth day. He's not in the Iron Man suit, but he is in a three piece and a pair of sunglasses are settled firmly over his brown eyes that Steve knows is a way to hide them. Tony's eyes have always been expressive, and Steve wants to reach through the bars and slip them off, tuck them firmly in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He doesn't. He lost the right to do that when he slammed the shield down into the armor's chest. Steve's pretty sure that it's now Pepper's job again, if the news is anything to go by. He tries not to let that thought hurt him.
They stare at each other for a long time. Tony behind his sunglasses, though his hand is tapping on his knee from where he's sitting, his mind obviously still thinking. He was never the one to ever sit still. Even when he was asleep beside Steve, he would wiggle and toss, his mind never able to shut off. The only way Steve had been able to get him to stop was to wrap him up in his arms and put a leg around Tony's. And as much as the silence is damning, a show of what their relationship is like nowadays, Steve's still relieved and happy to see Tony's okay and safe.
"Where's Barnes?" Tony's voice is cold as he asks. Steve expected it, accepts the way his heart falls lower in his chest. He pushed his ever optimistic thoughts out of his head the first day, knowing Tony would be hurt. Steve actually hadn't expected to see him until the trial. And even then, he didn't expect Tony to even talk to him there.
"Safe," Steve tells him. He can't tell him how T'Challa is keeping him in Wakanda. It's a violation to the Accords that the King had signed and Steve has caused enough problems due to that stupid thing. He still doesn't believe in it. But, if part of the bargain to lessen the sentence for the people who fought with him is to sign it, he'll sign it.
"And the others?"
"Around somewhere." Steve knows that even if he told them not to follow him, they're either in a country close by to help he get out of a bind, if they aren't in America already. He hopes they don't come until it's safe for them to do so. "Rhodes?"
"Recovering," Tony's voice is tight. It's to be expected. Rhodes is one of his oldest friends. And all the years he was flying in the Air Force before he put on the War Machine armor can never prepare him or his loved ones for something like this to happen. Even if it was accidental. Especially when it's accidental.
Steve takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Tony. I know I should have told you about your parents. And I should have been more open minded about the Accords as well. With Peggy's funeral--" his voice hitched at the thought of her laying in the casket, being lowered into the ground in London, but he powers through it, "-- and everything that happened with Bucky... I needed time. And nobody got it. But, I'm still sorry for how everything played out."
Tony nodded, though his face gave nothing away. Steve wishes he could see his eyes, but knows that he won't be able to. Not even if he asks. He doesn't tell Tony he still loves him either. Like taking off his sunglasses, Steve lost that right when he chose to save Bucky.
"Was it worth it?" Tony asks, cutting through the silence that had fell between them again. Steve doesn't answer, but knows it anyway. Can feel the way it digs into his chest, a punch to his heart. Knows the way it grabs onto his spine and holds it. It burns his throat, makes him feel like he's having an asthma attack again, even if he knows he can't have those anymore. And when Tony scoffs, shakes his head, and stands to leave, Steve can't force it down anymore.
"No," he says quietly as Tony reaches the door to leave. He knows Tony heard it, sees the way the man stops with his hand on the door handle. Tony doesn't look back, doesn't acknowledge what he said. He opens the door and Steve watches his back until the door swings shut behind him.
Steve puts his face in his hands and stays like that until lights out.
▫ ▫ ▫
They put him back into his suit for the trial. It's dirty, the reds turned brown, the blue now navy, the white stained. He peeled the star off of his chest during a bought of anger at himself, as well as anything to do with the Avengers. The sleeves had been ruined during a mission, so he had to shorten them to his forearm, but he still had the leather, fingerless gloves. SHIELD agents surround him, his hands handcuffed behind his back again. Ross, Tony, and Nick stand at the top of the courthouse steps, even more SHIELD agents surrounding them.
Steve knows something is wrong as soon as he exits the vehicle they drove him. It has nothing to do with the crowd of people that have gathered, half yelling about how he was right about the Accords or about how Bucky Barnes was a prisoner of war and if they only read all of the SHIELD/Hydra files that were dumped onto the Internet, they'd understand. The other half was yelling for him to sign the Accords and then Bucky should be put into jail for his crimes, at the very least.
Steve ignored them, glanced around with his eyebrows furrowed, felt the familiar hair rising sensation of someone watching him a little too closely. He couldn't pick anyone in the crowd that looked particularly dangerous, but he was still on edge as he turned to look at the three on top of the stairs.
Steve didn't care about Ross or Nick, just focused on Tony. He was in another suit, all crisp lines and stoic expression. Steve didn't even realize he was stalling, standing on the curb side, to take in Tony in full until an agent shoved at his shoulder and he was forced to take a step forward.
When he was half-way up the steps, he understood why he felt so on edge. On the back of the SHIELD agent in front of him, a small red laser blinked on and moved around, lining up the shot. Steve turned his head, saw the shine of the scope in the window of the building across the street and found himself swearing under his breath. With a growl, he shoved himself into the back of them in front of him, the man falling with a yell just as the gunshot sounded and the bullet planted itself in his flesh, somewhere near his neck.
The crowd around him goes crazy. Steve can see Tony trying to rush down to him as he feels himself start to choke on the air he's not getting. So, he really doesn't notice when one of the agents around him gets in front of him, whispers hail, Hydra in his ears (even though they were supposed to have caught all of Hydra's people), and shoots him three times in the abdomen. The pain is excruciating, whiting out the world and he can't breathe. He can't suck any air into his lungs, he thinks he's falling. Everyone is yelling or moving, the bullets are still embedded into his flesh, and it hurts to move.
But Tony's there. Tony's holding him, pushing his hand into the wound in his chest and begging him to stay still, keep his eyes on him, people are coming. It's all blurring together in Steve's mind, and he wonders faintly why the serum isn't working. He can usually feel his blood pumping to get the skin knitted back together, but he can't feel anything but the pain and the warmth of Tony's solid form holding him close.
Not even the uncomfortable feeling of his hands in handcuffs trapped under his torso is registering now.
"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve tells him, breathless. But not the good kind, like after Tony's kisses. He can't get any air into his lungs, it's escaping him like the blood is. Tony's shaking his head, yelling at someone to hurry up, to get Cap out of here and to the hospital. Steve doesn't really understand a lot of anything right now, the figures moving around him too fast and the world is too bright and everything is too loud. He feels himself getting tired, his limps getting heavy. "I'm sorry."
"Steve," Tony calls, shaking him, and Steve opens his eyes. He hadn't even been aware that they had fallen shut. Humming, he met Tony's eyes, a swell of happiness settling in his chest, warming him when he noticed that Tony wasn't wearing his sunglasses anymore. "Steve, you have to stay with me, please. I can't lose you! Big guy, keep your eyes open!"
He's on the gurney, Tony keeping step with the ambulance people as they load Steve into the back. He mumbles another apology as Tony climbs in beside him and grabs onto Steve's hand. When had they undone the handcuffs?
"Stop apologizing, for fuck's sake! You better survive this, you fucking asshole! Steve, I can't fucking lose you, I love you!"
"You always," Steve wheezed, feeling his eyes start to drift shut again. "You always did have a way with words, Tony." He felt Tony squeeze his hand again, harder this time. "I love you too, Shellhead."
He let himself drift, thinking about how much more peaceful this time was, unlike when he went into the ice in 1945.