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Chapter Text

King Silas lay next to his wife, eyes fixated on the ceiling. Though sleep had claimed the blond woman next to him, he was unable to find it himself.

A throat cleared beside him, causing him to roll his eyes, turning his head on the pillow to take in the ghostly form of Reverend Samuels, who was near the far wall.

“Aren’t you supposed to sleep after you’re dead?” He muttered angrily, causing Rose to stir slightly beside him.

Samuels smiled and shook his head. “The Lord is not happy with you, Silas. Your treatment of others, your blasphemous teachings of his Word.” Samuels strolled closer. “Do not be deceived. God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.”

“Yes, yes. Quote some more of your verses at me.” Silas rolled over. “Righteous prick.”

“Your harvester is here, Silas. And he shall not be as forgiving as the Almighty.”

Footsteps rushed toward the door, before it flew open. Both Silas and Rose sat up as a gorgeous red-headed woman stood in the doorframe.

“Natalie?”

“Your Majesty. There’s been a perimeter breach. We need to get you and the Queen to safety.”

Both Silas and Rose hurried awake, the Queen quickly grabbing a robe and covering up her nightgown as the King grabbed his pistol. Natalie reached up and tapped the comm on her ear rapidly. Morse code.

“Who attacked us?”

“Brooklyn, sir. They sent the Avengers.”

Silas’s eyes grew wide. The Avengers were the most elite and terrifying military group known to the region. And Brooklyn was over a thousand miles away. They wouldn’t have just been in the area seeking asylum, not that Brooklyn and Gilboa had much of a relationship since King Erskine had called Silas a bully during a press conference.

“All of them?” The Queen asked, a slight tremor in her voice at the thought of the entire Avenger’s force reigning down on her palace.

“We don’t know.” Natalie stuck her head out of the doorway, eyes darting all around, before turning back to the royal couple. “Stay close to me. Stay quiet. We’re going to take you through the secret tunnels. Thomasina is waiting with a car to take you to safety.”

Natalie walked out of the room, checking around every corner as they progressed further and further through the palace. Silas and Rose hurried behind the redhead, peering over their shoulder, tension and fear in their every action.

As they reached the Great Hall, Natalie placed a finger to her lips, slowly pushing the door open the rest of the way, peering inside. Satisfied it was empty; she motioned for the King and Queen to follow her as she entered the darkened room.

Silas kept his gun drawn as Rose clutched onto the back of his nightshirt – not out of fear, but in order to ensure she didn’t get separated from him in the dark.

Halfway through the hall, the sound of a match being struck echoed through the room. All three individuals turned toward the disturbance, the single flame barely illuminating a dark haired man with sideburns.

“’Sup, bub?” He offered before lighting the cigar that was dangling from his lips.

On instinct, Silas pointed the gun toward the intruder, but before he could even manage to pull the trigger, an arrow fired from further in the dark, knocking the gun from the owner’s hand. He immediately reached down to pick it up when the lights of the hall fired up, revealing a dark haired teenager beside the King, bow string pulled taunt as her arrow pointed between Silas’s eyes.

“Uh, uh, uh.” She smirked, before glancing up at the chandelier. “Nice shot, Hawkeye.”

Balancing easily atop the chandelier with a bow of his own, a blonde haired man gave a lazy two-fingered salute. “Thanks, Hawkeye.” Then. “Don’t get any ideas, Red. Drop the gun.”

Natalie sent a glare toward the roof, but did as she was told, only enraging Silas further.

“How dare you invade my home unprovoked? I am the King of…”

“Hey, hey! Shut up.” The girl pushed her bow forward slightly, silencing Silas immediately.

“Kate…” The man atop the chandelier scolded.

“Come on, Clint. He’s been here for like three seconds and I already want to kill him.” She glared. “Pompous ass.”

“I agree with the kid. We could just end this now.”

“Logan.” A voice sounded from the back of the room, all eyes turning as a group of four individuals marched inside. The blonde haired woman whom had spoken led them. “We do nothing until the King gives the order.”

“You’re a killjoy, Danvers.”

“I hate to say it…” A man with an immaculately groomed goatee began, before Danvers interrupted him.

“Then don’t, Stark.” She turned toward the male archer. “Clint, did you…”

“Already contacted the Falcon. He’s bringing in the King now.”

“Erskine? Erskine is here? In my home? Attacking me!?”

“Nah.” Tony shook her head at Silas, a look of mock sympathy adorning his face. “Erskine died two weeks ago. His named heir is our King now. And, he really doesn’t like you.”

The ominous sound of the far doors opening silenced everyone. Two sets of footsteps echoed through the hall - stern, confident, almost deadly in sound.

Out of the shadows stepped two men, one dressed in a pilot’s uniform, guns strapped to his hips. Beside him stood an imposing figure, a blond man who was in a dark blue military uniform, a leather bomber jacket atop it.

Though his counterpart stopped as they reached the now bowing group, the blond continued forward, eyes burning with hatred and rage, laser focused on the King.

As Silas finally caught a good look at the man in front of him, he stumbled back a step, eyes blown wide with a fear he had never before felt in his life.

“Rogers.” He breathed out, causing a gasp to sound from the Queen.

“King Rogers.” Kate corrected, poking Silas with the tip of an arrow for his mistake.

“But, you-you’re…”

“Dead?” Steve asked, his voice like ice as he glared at the man in front of him. “Like my family that you had killed and tossed outside the city walls like trash?”

“I-I. You were as good as dead! I saw to that.”

“Maybe you should see a little better next time, Your Majesty.” King Rogers spat the name with such hatred it’s a wonder the phrase alone did not strike Silas dead.

The King of Brooklyn glanced at the Avengers now flanking him. “Thor. Luke.” He motioned toward Silas and Rose. The two large men immediately stepped forward, making their way to the King.

“Why are you just standing there? Do your job!” Rose hissed at Natalie. The redhead turned to her, a look of terror on her face for a long moment, before the expression morphed into a deadly smile.

“I already did.” Bending down to grab and holster her weapon, she stepped away from the King and Queen and joined the newcomers, bowing slightly before King Rogers.

“Your majesty, all palace guards are unconscious and all non-combative personal are locked in the dungeons…mostly unharmed.”

“Mostly?”

“One called Colonel Danvers a bitch. She took exception to that.”

“Damn right I did. Never call a bitch a bitch. Us bitches hate that.”

Steve’s eyes barely left Silas during the entire exchange, hatred and rage pouring through him as though it were his lifeblood. Through gritted teeth, he asked. “Where. Is. He?”

“Who’s he?” Silas smirked arrogantly, his bravado finding him again as he stared into the other King’s eyes.

Luke Cage smacked Silas hard across the back of his head, glaring at the man as he winched forward, hand automatically cupping the injury.

Thor leaned forward, speaking directly into Silas’s ear. “His Majesty does not appear to be in a gaming mood.” His eyes narrowed as he pushed Silas forward slightly. “I suggest you answer his questions. Quickly.”

“Where is he, Silas?” The tension coiling through King Rogers was evident in his body language, his tone, the narrowing of his eyes.  His team stood behind him, braced for a fight if need be.

“Ah, you must mean that worthless faggot I -.” Silas did not even registered he had been punched until he found himself on the floor in heap.

Rose stepped forward, her hand reaching out in concern as she began to kneel toward her husband. “Silas!” However, Luke put his hand out stopping her, shaking his head at her and forcing her to step back.

Still on the ground, Silas pulled his hands away, looking in fascination at the blood that now covered them. His nose was crooked, obviously broken from the blow. He pushed himself to his feet, leaving bloody handprints on the ground.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Steve’s hand wrapped around his throat, pushing him against a pillar. He lifted him, leaving Silas’s feet inches off the ground, scrambling for purchase.

Silas gagged, trying to get air to breathe, but Steve merely added pressure. “I’ve grown up in the past seven years, Silas. I’m not afraid to make you disappear. Now, I’m going to ask one last time. Where. Is. He?”

“H-h-h.” Silas choked on the words, unable to speak around Steve’s hand. The blond relented, loosening his hold just enough so Silas could get the words out.

“He’s in his room.” Silas looked at Steve with absolute hate and disgust before he sneered. “I’m sure you remember the way.”

Steve spared Silas no further thought as he let him collapse to the ground. “Sam, Nat – with me. The rest of you keep him here.”

The remaining Avengers verbally agreed as the pilot and the spy followed Steve furthering into the castle.

The room was cast in a tense silence, before Tony glanced over at Danvers. “I got 100 bucks saying Rogers kills the guy before the night’s up.”

 “Shut up, Stark.”

Steve hurried down the corridor, Sam and Nat flanking him.

“Steve.” Sam tried to gain the King’s attention, but the man refused to break stride. The pilot increased his pace, grabbing the royal’s arm and causing him to stop.

“What, Sam?” Steve snapped, as Natasha stood to the side, watching the exchange with concern.

“I just…I think we need to take a moment, okay?  It’s been seven years since you’ve seen him.”

“You got a point?”

“Look, I’m just saying maybe you should just wait here and let one of us go up there. What you find, it isn’t going to be pretty. And…” A pause before Steve’s expression forced an exasperated sigh from Sam. “Whatever, man. You’re the King.”

Steve turned on his heels and continued down the hall until they reached Jack’s door. There was no hesitation as he gripped the knob and flung it open, unwilling to let the fear of what was waiting keep him away a moment longer.

He was not, however, expecting a beautiful dark-haired woman to be standing between the door and the bed, wielding a lamp - her stance fiercely protective of the prone figure on the mattress.

“Stay away from him!” She ordered. “Stay away from him or, so help me, I will bash your skull in.”

Steve put his hands up, attempting to glance around the girl to get a clear look at the motionless figure on the bed, but the girl sidestepped to block his view.

Sam and Natasha came up behind Steve, guns trained on the girl.

“Drop the lamp, now!” Sam shouted.

“No! Silas has hurt him enough! I won’t let you do anymore!” She shouted. It was then Steve noticed the tremor in her voice, the tears building in her eyes and the shaking hands. He barely registered Natasha’s explanation that the lamp wielder was Lucinda Wolfson, Jacks’ “fiancé.”

“We’re not going to hurt anyone. We’re just looking for Jack.”

At his words, Steve noticed a slight movement from the bed, before he heard a broken, barely audible voice. “Steve?”

The King froze, his entire body going rigid, because, that was Jack. Holy crap, Jack was on the bed and he was hardly moving and Steve could barely see him and definitely couldn’t see his face and why wasn’t Jack getting up and oh God, was he hurt, what had Silas done and…

“Steve?” Natasha softly resting her hand on his forearm broke him out of his stupor. The girl in front of him was now staring wide-eyed, lamp slowly lowering.

“You’re Steve? His Steve?”

The King nodded, not trusting his own voice.

“H-he...He calls out for you sometimes. When he’s hurt. When he’s asleep.”  She bit her bottom lip, glancing over her shoulder at the bed. “You can’t leave him here. He’s not going to make it much longer. Please. Before…”

“We’re taking him to safety.” Steve cut off, ready to get this woman out of his way and get to Jack. “You too. We’re getting you out too.”

Lucinda hesitated for another moment, before dropping the lamp and stepping aside. She had barely moved out of Steve’s path before the King was at the bed – ready to see Jack, ready to save him.

However, as soon as he got his first good look at the blanket-less bed, he froze. Because Jack –

Jack looked like death.

His pale skin had a gray pallor, and he looked as if he hadn’t seen the sun in months. His hair was dull, long, and messy, something that Jack Benjamin would never, in good conscious, allow. His cheeks were sunken in, and dark circles seemed to be almost painted around his eyes.

And that was only his face.

He was shirtless and Steve could count every. Single. Rib.

His arms were handcuffed to the sides of the bed, keeping him from moving. An IV was stuck in his left forearm. His legs were unrestrained, but it’s not as though Jack would have the strength to move them anyway.

Steve glanced over every inch of Jack he could, and felt bile and self-hatred rise in his throat. Why hadn’t he come back sooner? Why hadn’t he killed Silas years ago? Why didn’t he just go kill Silas now?

With that question he nearly headed back down the stairs to kill, in his opinion, the sorriest son of a bitch to ever walk the planet. But, his final “once-over” of Jack nearly took his breath away.

Because those were Jack’s eyes and, yeah, they were kind of glazed over and bloodshot, but they were open and looking at Steve.

“Steve?” Jack questioned, his eyes tearing up. “Steve.”

“Hey, baby.” Steve murmured, kneeling beside the bed, his hand reaching up to gently stroke Jack’s cheek.

Jack began to struggle against his handcuffs, trying to get free to touch Steve, causing a wince of pain as he pulled.  But, his struggles were quieted as Steve reached down to intertwine their fingers, his other hand carding softly through Jack’s hair.

“Shhh. Shh. You’re safe now, Jack. You’re safe. I’m taking you away, okay? Just like I promised.”

Steve turned toward Sam and Natasha, all softness he had toward Jack lost behind his boiling rage and anger. He either didn’t hear or didn’t acknowledge when Jack murmured, “A’ways come ‘or me.”

“Get him out of these. Now.”

Natasha nodded, pulling a bobby pin from her hair, strolling forward, but stopping short when Jack flinched away – as much as he could – and closed his eyes, as if expecting a blow.

Steve’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, the gravity of the situation finally registering in his mind as he reluctantly pulled his hand free from Jack’s, his heart clenching at the whimper the broken Prince made at the action.

Cupping Jack’s face, Steve rubbed his thumbs along the Prince’s cheekbones, a soothing motion that caused a tiny bit of the tension he had been carrying to seep away.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Never again, okay?”

“Not ‘uch you can do, S’evie.”

Doing his best to ignore the wrecked quality of Jack’s voice and the sinking feeling of guilt at being unable to protect Jack, Steve chuckled.

“I can do a lot more than I used to be able to. Just trust me one more time, okay?”

“A’ways  trust you.”

The simple declaration of trust – of, dare Steve even hope, love – flooded through Steve, removing a fraction of the crushing pain he had been feeling until that point. Steve leaned forward, still cradling Jack’s face, and rested their foreheads together, nodding after a brief moment to let Natasha know to proceed.

However, as soon as her hand made contact with Jack’s, he flinched slightly. He vocalized no protest, but his eyes slammed shut and hands curled into fists, all the tension returning to his body in one wicked wave.

Steve pulled back slightly, his forehead no longer resting on Jack’s, in order to shoot Natasha a helpless look. He turned back to the Prince, resting his head on the pillow beside Jack’s ear, keeping Jack’s face cradled with one hand while the other carded through his hair. He began to lowly hum “Let It Be,” by the Beatles.

Jack smiled softly, turning his head to look at Steve, resting their foreheads together again as Natasha continued to work on the restraints.

“Why is he handcuffed?” Sam asked Lucinda, taking note of how Steve tilted his head slightly toward them, clearly taking in their conversation as he continued to sooth Jack.

“He…so he doesn’t pull the IV out. Or hurt himself.”

“IV looks like vitamins and minerals.” Natasha answered Sam’s question before he could even voice it, carefully pulling the IV out of Jack’s arm.

The Prince flinched, causing Steve to scoot up, still humming, and kiss Jack’s forehead, lips lingering there for a long moment before he pulled away.

Finally, mercifully, Natasha got the last handcuff loose. Jack immediately reacted, both hands reaching up to cup Steve’s face, using his last reserves of energy to bring Steve in for a kiss.

Steve could feel the weak, shaky nature of Jack’s arms, could easily fight the pull of the other man, but didn’t. Instead, he moved with him, leaning forward to meet Jack’s lips with his own. His eyes closed, the longing vanishing as relief ebbed into the King’s world, lighting it with colors he hadn’t seen for seven years.

Jack tried desperately to deepen the kiss, putting far more energy than he could afford to expend into the action, tongue attempting to force itself into Steve’s mouth. One shaking hand went to Steve’s jacket, attempting to push it off his shoulders.

 However, Steve could feel the tremor in the hand that remained against his cheek, hints of bitterness and blood in Jack’s mouth and on his chapped lips.

Steve pulled back gently, his resolve almost vanishing as Jack whimpered and leaned forward, his hand slipping weakly from Steve’s jacket.

“Shhh.” Steve planted a feather-light kiss to the corner of Jack’s mouth, running a hand through the Prince’s hair and cradling the back of his head. “Later. If you still want this later, then…” he let his voice trail off, leaning back to pull his jacket off.

“Ne’er make me wait.” Jack slurred, eyes watering slightly. “No later. N’t for me.”

Steve couldn’t make heads or tails of what exactly Jack was trying to say, so he elected to ignore it, because now, in front of his friends, in front of Jack’s fiancé (which Steve wasn’t even going to attempt to start dealing with at the moment), with Jack barely alive was not the time to figure out where they stood – if there even was still a “they.”

And Steven had to stop that train of thought right there, because the idea that Jack -whom he’d been pining for, fighting to get back to, praying for, dreaming of – not wanting him back…God, the thought made Steve’s heart constrict in terror and pain. It stole his breath, made him want to throw his crown away and curl up in a hole and die, because a future without Jack…it terrified him.

But this wasn’t about him, it was about Jack. And, reminding himself of that, he shrugged his jacket off and tucked it around the Prince, making sure to brush the shaggy hair from his face. “You’re freezing. Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

Jack’s look of pain and heartbreak made Steve almost forget that he was behind enemy lines. He had to fight every instinct that was screaming at him to crawl into bed and curl around Jack, holding him tight and protecting him from anyone stupid enough to ever look at him threateningly.  The King barely heard the whispered. “Silas won’t…”

“I will carry you out over that son of a bitch’s dead body if that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”

Jack smiled, a mix of fondness and heartbreak intermingling behind his eyes. “You always say that…’ways wake up back here.” He blinked up at Steve. “Worth it t’ see you.”

Steve looked confused, head swiveling to look at Sam, Natasha, and Lucinda – who were watching from the doorway. “Wha-?”

“He thinks he’s hallucinating.” Lucinda explained quietly, watching the Prince, tears building in her own eyes. “He sees you, and sometimes Joseph, when he gets really bad.” 

Steve turned back to Jack, eyes wide, grasping Jack’s face between his hands. “Hey, hey. Baby, look at me. I’m real, okay? I’m here.” The panic, the need in Steve’s voice was palpable.

 “Always say that. It’s okay. My faul’ you’re gone, anyway.”

“Jack, baby, no. It’s…”

“Steve.” Natasha’s calm voice cut him off. He turned to find her right behind him, and his eyes begged, pleaded with her to fix this. She shook her head and put her hand on his shoulder. “We can’t help him here. We have to go.”

“But…”

“Steve.” It was Sam this time. “She’s right. Trust me, the best thing for him is to get to somewhere he can feel safe and protected. Plus, we need to get out of here before someone figures out what’s going on.”

Steve blew out a loud breath, unhappy, but knowing that what they said was true. He began to lean forward, to kiss Jack again, but knowing that would basically be taking advantage of someone who was so not capable of giving consent at the moment, he settled for bringing Jack’s hand to his lips and kissing every knuckle.

“I’m going to have to carry, you okay?” Steve asked Jack, finally getting off his knees and standing beside the bed. When Jack nodded, Steve glanced over at Lucinda. “Does he…did they hurt him physically?”

Lucinda nodded, biting her bottom lip.

Steve sighed, blinking rapidly before he knelt onto the mattress, preparing to pick up Jack. “This is going to hurt, but it’ll be worth it, okay?” With that, Steve lifted him.

He had to will away the tears that threatened to spill at the shout of pain that sounded from Jack, then the tiny whimpers of anguish, the Prince’s body unable to find the energy to do much else. Steve cradled him to his chest, protective and gentle, as though he were worth his weight in diamond-encrusted gold. 

He kissed the top of Jack’s head, before laying his cheek atop the same spot, his every sense so filled with Jack that he registered nothing else. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Steve kept up the litany as he walked toward the door. He broke his attention away from his love only long enough to glance over at Natasha and Sam.

“Put down anyone who gets between us and the exit.” His voice fierce and deadly, a quality Sam – who had known the King for years – had never heard from the man. The two Avengers nodded, however, more than willing to kill for the man whom their friend obviously cared so much for.

Steve strolled out of the door, continuing to repeat his apologies and declaration of love as the other three followed.

The sound of the door opening alerted everyone in the great hall to the King’s return. Seeing Steve carrying Jack in his arms, Tony was about to make a comment about how you’re not supposed to carry him over the threshold until after the wedding, but one look at stony face of his friends, as well as the horrible state the Prince was in, he wisely chose to keep the comment to himself.

Steve rounded on Silas, clutching a barely conscious Jack even more protectively. He kept his voice low as to not unsettle the Prince. “What did you do to him!? Your own son!”

“He’s no son of mine! He’s a prisoner until he produces an heir, hopefully one that isn’t as big of a disappointment as him. Then he’ll finally get to die like he wants!” Silas shouted, causing Jack to startle in Steve’s arms, withdrawing as far as he could from his Father.

Steve shushed him, quietly assuring him that he was safe.

“You locked your own son up and forced him to have sex so you could have an heir?” Carol question, not even bothering to try to hide her disgust. “Sick bastard.”

“Tried. I tried to get him to produce an heir, but the worthless fagg-.” An arrow whizzed right in front of Silas, taking some of his hair along with it, before embedding in a nearby pillar.

“You know,” Clint said from his perch atop the chandelier, looking nonchalant, except for the murderous gleam in his eyes. “I really do not like that word, so say it again, and the next arrow catches your vocal cords. Okay, bro?”

Silas allowed himself a brief moment of terror, before he glared back at Steve. “You can’t take him. He’s a prisoner.”

“He is leaving with me. And you will never see him again.”

“He’s our son!” Rose finally shouted from behind Silas.

Steve looked incredulous. “Your son?!” He couldn’t contain the disbelieving scoff that escaped his lips, though he kept his voice low, not shouting for fear of upsetting Jack. “Was he your son when you cared more about him being a good heir than being himself? Or when you told him God hated him for something he couldn’t help? When you used him as a pawn in this twisted game you two play to stay powerful? Or maybe, just maybe, he was your son when Silas here had him captured and tortured by Gath forces in order to ensure a war.”

Rose’s jaw dropped, eyes wide as she looked over at her husband. “Silas?”

“How did you find out?”

This time it was Logan’s turn to scoff. “You’ve heard of the Black Widow, right? Best damn spy around, bub, and she’s been here for months.” He nodded with his head toward Natasha. “She knows all your dirty little secrets.”

Silas looked over at Natasha, who smiled a deadly smile at him, showing teeth. Steve, however, ignored them, keeping his eyes focused on Rose as he took a step forward.

“Tell me Rose, where were you when your son was wasting away to this?” He asked motioning towards the man held securely in his arms. “Don’t act like you give a damn. No one here is going to buy it.”

He turned to walk away, but Silas dove at him like a madman. “YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM! I WILL HAVE AN HEIR! I WILL LIVE ON!” He grabbed at Jack’s leg, trying to pull him from Steve’s arms.

Chaos ensued. Jack shouted in pain, Steve screamed for the Prince, the Avengers all rushed forward. Steve was able to pull Jack free, kicking Silas backward as Clint and Kate moved in front of Steve with their bows, the others with their guns, all pointed directly at Silas, separating the madman from their King.

Thor, who was still behindSilas, gripped him hard by the back of the neck, causing him to shout in pain. “Do that again,” he spoke lowly into his ear. “And I will break you before His Majesty has the chance.”

Steve stood in the back, calming a hurt and confused Jack before he looked at the others. He didn’t even give Silas a second glance, turning instead toward the door.

“Wait!” Lucinda strolled in front of the Avengers, glaring at Silas, before rearing back and smacking him so hard the sound reverberated through the hall.

Rose stepped forward angrily, only to be met with a slap herself. She stepped back, clutching her check, as Lucinda’s glare returned to Silas.

“How dare you? How dare you do this to me? To him? He gave up everything, everything, to be the man you wanted and it still wasn’t enough.” She stepped forward, voice dropping. “You aren’t worthy to call him your son. You should have been the one kissing his feet, not the other way around.”

“Wait, what?” Steve asked, stepping forward swiftly. At Lucinda’s confused look, he elaborated “What did you just say?”

“Silas,” she spat, “made Jack kneel and kiss his feet in front of me. In front of the staff. It humiliated him.”

Sam and Tony glanced at Steve then at each other, and, yep, that was the angriest Steve Rogers had ever been. Tony had no shame in admitting, at least in his head, that if that gaze was directed at him, he might just soil himself.

“Get him on his knees.” Steve hissed.

Thor and Luke were all too happy to oblige, kicking Silas hard in the back of his knees, causing them to bang against the stone floor. Thor’s painful grip in his hair was the only thing that kept the rest of Silas from falling forward.

The King of Gilboa looked at Steve with unadulterated hatred, but Steve met his gaze and emotions easily, before turning toward Jack, his features softening instantly.

“Jack, hey.” He roused the man, shaking him slightly so he was more alert. “I’m going to set you on your feet for a second. Just lean against me, alright?”

“Steve.” Jack gripped at his shirt, pulling back to look at Steve in panic. “Don’t leave me here. You promised.”

“Shh.” Steve pulled him closer for a brief moment. “I’m never leaving you again. Just trust me, okay?”

Jack nodded his head from where it rested against Steve’s shoulder. Steve maneuvered him to his feet, letting Jack’s back rest against his chest, his head lolling on the King’s shoulder for a moment.

Sam and Natasha instantly stepped forward, ready to help support Jack if need be.

Steve could tell the moment Jack’s eyes focused and found Silas. Tension shot through his body and he leaned back further against Steve, his hand tangling on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Shhh. Baby, I’ve got you.” He murmured in Jack’s ear, before he glared at Silas.

“Kiss his feet.”

“What?!”

“Kiss. Jack’s. Feet.”

Silas scoffed. “I’d rather die than kiss that f-,” He stopped himself as he saw Clint pull his bow string back, “than kiss his feet.”

Steve looked unsurprised. His eyes never leaving Silas’s, he motioned with his head toward Thor and Luke. Both men unsheathed swords that had been strapped to their backs.

Rose sharp intake of breath echoed across the otherwise silent hall as Thor and Luke each put their swords to Silas’s throat.

“I can arrange that.” Steve hissed. “Now, kiss his feet.”

Silas glared, a look of defiance, as though he would rather be beheaded than allow his ego to be bruised. Finally, he sighed. “Can you at least have your cronies move their swords?”

Steve nodded, causing both Thor and Luke to withdraw their weapons, though Luke managed to hit the handle against the side of Silas’s head as he did.

Silas stared at Jack’s feet for a moment, before he began to lean forward.

“Wait.” Natasha instructed, strolling forward and pulling a handkerchief from her pocket. She gripped Silas’s broken nose in a bruising fashion, moving it back and forth roughly, causing Silas to shout in pain. She paid him no heed, continuing to viciously wipe for a long moment, before she stepped back.

“Don’t want to get blood on Jack’s feet, now do we?” She asked pleasantly over the sound of Silas’s harsh breathing, and stepped back behind her King.

Silas took another moment, collecting himself, He did not look at Steve or the others, before he began to lean forward, well aware of the swords at his back and the guns and bows at his front.

He kissed one foot and began to lean up, but Luke’s large foot on Silas’s back kept him from pulling away. 

“I believe King Rogers said ‘feet,’ not ‘foot.’ Do it right, old man.”

Silas managed a glare over his shoulder before he kissed Jack’s other foot. As he pulled away, he locked gazes with his son, who was staring at him with contempt.

“Alright.” Steve said, breaking the moment, picking Jack up so he was once again cradling him. “Clint, you’re in charge of flying back Omega Team. Hawkeye, maintain the perimeter. Wolverine, go find Ms. Wolfson’s family and bring them back to Brooklyn with you. Thor, Luke.” He paused. “Keep that bastard on his knees until you get word that we’re back in Brooklyn.”

Thor outright beamed at this, both he and Luke putting their swords to Silas’s throat, keeping him in place.

“Alpha team. We’re leaving. Now.” Rogers ordered, as Tony, Carol, Sam, and Natasha – who led Lucinda - fell in line behind him.

“I will come after you, Rogers! I’ll have what’s mine!” Silas shouted, ignoring the way Thor’s sword inched closer to his throat.

“Nine of my Avengers just took down your entire palace. You really want a war?” Steve asked, adjusting Jack in his arms. “Be my guest. But know if you ever hurt him again, I will destroy everything you care about.”

“You would destroy an entire nation for him?” Disgust crawled into Silas’s every word.

Steve glanced down at Jack, who had used all his energy standing and was now unconscious in Steve’s arms, his hands still gripped tightly into Steve’s shirt.

The King’s eyes shifted to meet Silas’s. “I would destroy worlds for Jack Benjamin.”

With that, he turned to leave, his team surrounding him as he carried Jack out of hell.

“Alright, go flight, people. Nat, tell the King we’re ready to fly. Danvers will call ahead and let Banner know that we’ve got a patient for him.” Sam ordered from the pilot seat, as he and Carol prepared their stealth plane for flight.

Natasha nodded, stepping out of the cockpit and going down the ladder leading to the infirmary below deck.

As she dropped down, she saw Jack Benjamin sleeping on one of the infirmary beds, a blanket tucked around him and a pillow beneath his head. His pale, gaunt frame was eclipsed by the King, who lay on his side next to the Prince, his hand carding through Jack’s hair as he hummed soothingly. Tears fell down Steve’s face at an obscene rate, but he did nothing to hide them.

Natasha quickly climbed the ladder, not willing to break up the scene, knowing the King would hear the engines and know they were taking off.

With one last glance, she noticed that Jack’s hands still had a death-grip on Steve’s shirt.

Chapter Text

From his seat against the wall, Steve kept his eyes locked on the prone figure on the bed as Dr. Bruce Banner walked around, looking at different medical equipment and charts that were scattered throughout the room.

For the first time in his life, Steve was glad that he had the power to basically demand whatever he wanted. And he had used it to full effect.

To start with, he demanded that a makeshift medical area was set up in the bedroom next to his. Perhaps it was stupid and was absolutely demanding, but Steve hated the idea of Jack waking up in some cold, impersonal hospital room surrounded by strangers in lab coats. Instead, Steve had set him up in his old room, the one he had used while he was the leader of the Avengers, before Erskine’s passing and he became King, inheriting the crown and the Master Suite.

And, if Steve hoped that Jack would like the room and chose to stay in Brooklyn with him, well, he wasn’t telling anyone. 

The second thing was he had refused to leave during the examination. Okay, maybe Tony’s quip about him being “clingy” had some validity, but Steve didn’t want Jack to wake up amongst strangers, becoming even more confused and disoriented than he already was.

Lastly, he had only allowed Bruce Banner to conduct the examination. Though there were many great doctors in Brooklyn, Steve trusted the Avenger’s official doctor with his life.

So, now Jack lay, wearing one of Steve’s old hoodies (“It was the closest warm article of clothing, Tony. Stop laughing.”) and covered with a good deal of blankets.

Bruce sighed, taking his glasses off and pinching his nose, finally walking away from Jack and towards Steve. He met the King’s gaze, reading the silent question.

“I’m not going to lie, Your M-Steve. It’s not great.”

Steve kept his head buried in his hands, shoulders tense and tight with worry. Finally, he dropped his hands and met Bruce’s eyes. “Tell me.”

“He was mildly hypothermic when you brought him in, probably from him being locked in that damp cell Lucinda was telling us about for days at a time.” Seeing the fear in the King’s eyes, he quickly continued. “His temperature is back up to 97.2, so it shouldn’t cause any issues. Just keep him in the warm clothes and under the blankets until we get his core temperature back to normal.”

“He has some residual bruising on his torso. It looks like someone kicked the crap out of the kid, Steve. I’m guessing the newest ones are close to a week old, but they still aren’t even close to fully healed. You probably didn’t notice them because of how bad his color was.” Bruce quickly added, knowing Steve was beating himself up for not being gentler with Jack, and judging by the way Steve carried him into the castle, short of wrapping there Prince in pillows and bubble wrap, there was literally no way Steve could have been more careful .

“X-Rays showed a healed fracture on his orbital bone. The MRI showed his left shoulder has been dislocated, multiple times, causing some pretty serious ligament damage. We’ll have to find an orthopedic doctor for a second opinion, but I’d say he’s going to have to have surgery on it. And that’s, honestly, the best of it.”

“Shit.” Steve muttered, rubbing a tired hand down his face, allowing himself a quick look at the figure on the bed before turning back to Bruce.

“He’s severely malnourished and dehydrated. The supplements in his IV were the bare minimum of what he needed, and whoever was inserting that needle didn’t know what they were doing. His entire inner elbow is bruised from where they kept inserting it, and it doesn’t even look like they got it into the vein half the time. When he wakes up, we’re going to try to see if he can keep down some water mixed with glucose and fruit juice. If he can, we’ll try some solid food tomorrow. I’ve intravenously added proteins to hopefully get him back on his feet sooner.” 

“But he’s going to be okay?” Steve asked, cautious hope seeping into his question.

“Physically? I’d say he’s serious, but stable. There may be some complications that arise from the malnourishment.”

“Complications?”

“There’s always the possibility of organ damage or failure with prolonged starvation. And, his immune system is shot, so he’s very vulnerable to diseases or infections. So long as we keep him on the antibiotics and proteins, I think he’ll pull through just fine. But, he’s going to be exhausted and will probably be drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. That’s a good thing, though. His body needs rest.”

“And, what about mentally? He thought he was hallucinating when I found him.”

“That’s….Steve, I’m not…” Bruce let out a loud, heavy breath. “I found some significant scaring on his wrist.”

“Okay, so Jack fought against the handcuffs at some…”

“They weren’t inflicted by the handcuffs.” Bruce said softly.

Steve’s head shot up, eyes dancing with confusion, his brain too exhausted to follow Bruce’s train of thought.

The doctor sighed. “Steve, they look like self-inflicted cuts, probably caused by a razor or broken piece of glass.”

Steve felt his blood run cold, body going rigid as a new wave of tension and distress washed over him. “Jack…Jack tried to kill himself?” Steve could barely get the words forced past the lump in his throat.

“We won’t know for sure until he’s awake and we can ask him how he got the injuries, but, if it wasn’t him, someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make it look like a suicide attempt. And, if Jack caused the injuries himself, I’m not qualified to help him with that. He needs a psychiatrist and a therapist, maybe even a team of them.”

“Call the best ones you can find. Ones you trust. Same with the orthopedic doctor.” Steve whispered, eyes staying locked on Jack.

“I know a few people at Xavier’s Mental Health Clinic and Faiza Hussain is the best orthopedic doctor I’ve ever met.”

“Get them here. I’ll pay whatever they’d like.”

Bruce nodded, taking his clipboard and heading toward the door, not expecting any other sort of reaction from his King, who was still watching Jack as if he were a leprechaun who would vanish as soon as he looked away.

So sure was he that the King had forgotten his presence that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the quiet “Thank you, Bruce.”

Steve’s eyes blinked open, exhaustion felt in his every bone, back aching from the heavy, uncomfortable metal chair he was in. He sat up straighter, eyes falling on the bed he was next to. His breath caught at what he saw.

Jack was fidgeting, making small, pained noises as he edged closer to consciousness.

Steve leaned forward. “Jack?” He brushed a lock of hair from the younger man’s face. “Jack, come on, wake up.”

The Prince’s eyes finally opened, confusion and uncertainty clear across his face. He looked around before he finally found Steve. A small smile graced his chapped lips. “Stevie.”

“Hey, Jack.” Steve responded with his own smile, willing away the tears that were threatening to gather in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” Jack said, reaching out for Steve.

The King instantly took his hand, grabbing a cup of water with his free one. “Do you think you could keep something down?” He asked softly.

The Prince gave an absent nod, eyes staying locked on Steve. He was so groggy he missed the straw the first time he tried to put his mouth around it. Finally, he took a long drink, coughing loudly and sputtering some of it up.

“Ugh. That taste awful.”

“Sorry.” Steve pulled the sleeve of his shirt down and ran it over Jack’s chin, wiping away the moisture there. “It’s got some glucose in it. To try to get your strength back. Do you think you could handle another drink?”

Jack reluctantly nodded, taking tentative sips, his face screwing up into an expression of disgust. Once he was about halfway through the drink, he pulled away, having had enough.

Steve put the drink back on the night stand, turning back to see Jack’s eyes already drooping. He smiled softly, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles of Jack’s hand.

“Stop.” Jack said, weakly pulling his hand away, though he was only successful because Steve chose to relax his grip. “Can’t get comfortable.”

Steve immediately stood from his chair. “Do you need pain meds? Another pillow? I can find you another blan-.”

“No, you idiot.” Jack rolled his eyes, though they slipped shut for a moment. Steve could tell he struggled to keep them open. “Don’t want to,” a small yawn escaped “sleep.”

Steve smiled softly, sitting on the edge of Jack’s bed, running a comforting hand through his hair. “You need the rest. It’ll help you recover.”

Jack shook his head, doing his best to fidget on the bed, fighting the exhaustion with every fiber of his being. “Can’t lose you yet.”

Steve frowned, faintly aware that Jack still didn’t believe he was real. He wanted so badly to insist he was, shake the man before him until he believed it.  He wanted to ask about the scars, and, if his worst fears were confirmed, wrap Jack up in a cocoon of blankets before cuddling around him, never letting the outside world near him again.

However, he knew now, with Jack barely awake enough to function, was not the time for these discussions. The Prince needed rest, so Steve took the index and middle fingers of his free hand and traced them up and down Jack’s forearm, a tactic he had always utilized in the past to help the other fall asleep. 

“Stevie.” Jack’s protest came out as more of a whine.

“Shhh. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.” Steve continued the motion, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Jack’s. He continued the calming motion on his charge’s forearm, while he once again began humming the Beatles.

Jack looked as though he wanted to continue his protest, but Steve’s calming presence and the exhaustion won out, taking over Jack’s battered body as he fell back asleep.

Steve was unsure of how long he stayed in the same position, continuing his calming ministrations – for his own personal need at this point – when a throat cleared behind him.

“The Beatles, hmm?” General Peggy Carter asked, her hair and red lipstick expertly done, military uniform clean and pressed, as always.

Steve looked away from the Prince long enough to give her a small smile. “My Mom…she used to sing the Beatles to me and my sisters as lullabies. After she…after she died, they still kept me calm. I told Jack about them and he learned every Beatle’s song and would hum them to me when I got depressed or anxious. It kind of became our thing.”

Peggy hummed, appreciative of the fact that the generally closed off King was opening up to her at all. After a few moments of the two of them observing Jack in silence, she asked. “Steve, what was he to you?”

“Everything.” The answer came without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s everything.”

Peggy sat down in the chair beside Steve and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently until the man turned to face her. “Tell me about him. About you.”

“Not much to tell.”

“Steve.” Peggy scolded. “You just invaded a sovereign nation with a leader who has proven himself to be completely off his rocker. I think there is plenty to tell, and if you expect me to run this nation…” Off Steve’s raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes so hard they nearly fell out of her head. “Oh, bloody hell, Steven. Do you really think you can run a nation while cooped up in this room watching over your maybe boyfriend? As the highest ranking military leader, I will assume your diplomatic roles until such a time you can return to the throne.” She continued.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Peggy.”

“You didn’t.” She replied, “But I would appreciate an explanation about all this, especially since you took the Avengers to Gilboa without my consultation.”

Steve sighed, eyes turning back to Jack, continuing to gently run his hand up and down his arm.

“You know I’m a refugee from Gilboa, right?”

Peggy nodded quietly beside Steve, letting him continue at his own pace.

“My Dad was one of Silas’ personal guards, very high up in the military.”

“That’s how you met Jack.” Peggy surmised.

“Yeah.” Steve paused for a brief moment, collecting himself. “After my Mom died, Dad used to bring me to the palace on days I didn’t have preschool. My first week there, I literally ran into Jack.” Steve smiled softly. “Got a giant goose-egg from my head bouncing against the floor.”

Peggy looked from the sleeping figure to the King, confused. “He knocked you down?”

“I was a string bean back then. Always getting sick.” Steve paused. “Jack and I were inseparable after that.”

The two sat in silence for a long while, Steve watching Jack as if he were the most beautiful being to have ever graced the planet. Peggy observed Steve in concern, seeing the emotional toll this whole situation was taking on him.

Finally, she broke the silence. “How long until you knew you loved him?”

“I think I always knew.” He leaned back in his chair, running a tired hand down his face. “But it was Gilboa. Homosexuality isn’t accepted - called evil and immoral. So, I just, repressed it. Never acted on it.”

“What changed?”

“Huh?”

“What made you guys get together? I assume you were together after seeing…” She motioned between Steve and his charge.

Steve turned back to Jack, a look of longing and remembrance on his face. “I almost died.”

“What?”

“I got Meningitis. I mean, really bad. Actually had a seizure while Jack and I were hanging out. I was barely coherent for days; don’t remember much of my hospital stay, actually.” He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of himself as he continued to tell his story. “The first time waking up that I remember, Jack was the only one there. He kissed me as soon as he saw I was awake. We knew we loved each other, we just couldn’t let anyone else know.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

Peggy’s eyes widened. “You were together for…”

“Four years.” Steve finished. “And not a soul knew.”

“What happened?”

“Jack and I got into an argument. He was joining the military, and I wanted to join too. But, he always saw me as that scrawny kid who almost died. It got heated, and, Jack started crying because he was scared he was going to lose me. And I couldn’t just…We thought we were alone, Peggy, I swear to God I didn’t think…that corridor was never used….but Silas…”

“Steve. Steven. Breathe.” She commanded, hand rubbing his broad shoulder in a hope to calm him down.

Steve took in a shaky breath, letting it out loudly, tears building in the corner of his eyes. “I-He needed to calm down. So, so I held him and I kissed him.” He buried his head in his hands. “It was so stupid. Anyone could have walked by, but I…” He took a moment to collect himself.

“Silas walked by, didn’t he.”

“He saw us. He didn’t tell us or anything. But that night…” Tears were now following down his eyes. “Silas’ men, people my Dad had known for years, came into our house and drug me, my Dad, and my three sisters outside of the walls, into the forest.”

“Steve, you don’t-“

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I need to tell you this. You deserve to know.”

Peggy nodded, keeping her hand on Steve’s shoulder as he continued.

“They beat me so bad that they were convinced I wouldn’t survive. But, they w-wanted me to suffer.” Another shaky breath. “They left me a-alive enough to watch them e-execute my sisters and my f-father.”

“Oh, Steve.” Peggy reached over, pulling the man toward her, letting him bury his face in her shoulder. His body shook against her as he threw his arms around her, tightening his grip as much as he dared.

“They left me there with the bodies. They thought I would be dead by morning.” He whispered into her shoulder.

“Then Abraham found you.”

He nodded against her shoulder, knowing she knew the rest. How Erskine had been traveling through the country and found Steve stumbling down a road, barely alive. The King, instantly taken a liking to Steve, had his medics heal him before granting him asylum. Steve had soon proven his grit in the military, showing himself to be a selfless and true leader. He continued to climb up the ranks until he was leading the Avengers – Erskine’s most elite military group/personal guard.

Erskine, whose own son had been killed in war, saw such great strength in Steve that he made him the heir to the throne, though, to keep the public from being distrusting of their would-be-King, Erskine had kept Steve’s status as a Gilboan refugee confidential, letting only the highest military ranks in on the secret.

“Why didn’t you tell any of us before?”

“Because I was trying to protect Jack.” Steve leaned back, wiping his eyes. “I kept up with him in the tabloids, figured so long as the public saw him as the womanizing Prince he would be safe.”

Peggy once again took Steve’s hand. “Well, he’s safe now. I’ve already assigned the Howling Commandos to guard the door. And, aside from the Avengers, they’re the best unit we have.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re married to Jones.” Steve gave her a sad smile.

“Perhaps.” Peggy gave a brilliant smile back. “Take as long as you need to get back. You’ve done enough for the kingdom. They’ll survive without you for a few days.”

“No, damn it, Steve!” Jack’s voice was sharp, harsh, as though he wanted to yell but knew he couldn’t. “Do you want to get yourself killed?”

“What, so you can run off and play hero while I’m stuck here waiting for you letters? Waiting for the life you promised we’d have together!” Steve hissed back. “I can’t do that. I won’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’re out there about to die while I’m safe and warm in my bed.”

“I’m the Prince. They won’t put me in the frontline.”

“Bullshit. Silas wants you to impress everyone and the best way to do that is to prove yourself out there. You’ll be right in the thick of things.”

“I’ll be as protected as possible.

“With bullets zipping around your head?” Steve shook his head. “I’m not going to just sit back and…”

“Damn it, Steve!” Jack did shout this time, shutting the blond up. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to go to war. I don’t want to die in some godforsaken field. But it’s the only way he’ll make me King. And being King is the only way I’ll get to be with you. And I can’t do that - I can’t fight if I don’t know you’re here waiting on me.” Jack started to get choked up, eyes brimming with tears.

“Stevie, please, don’t make me lose you. Don’t do this. Please. I’m begging you. Please.”

The absolutely heartbreak and fear in Jack’s eyes cause Steve to lurch forward, prepared to claim his lips as his own.

“Steve.” He was pulled from his dream/memory by a hand weakly shaking his shoulder. “Steve, come on.”

Steve sat up quickly, blinking away the sleep before he looked up at Jack, his face breaking into a bright smile at seeing the Prince awake. “Hey, baby.” He glanced over at the clock and saw that Jack had been asleep for almost twenty hours. “You feeling better?”

“Feel like shit.” He muttered, closing his eyes, grimacing as a wave of pain washed over him. “Sleepy.”

“You started to get a fever, so Dr. Banner put you on some pretty intense meds.” Steve reached behind him and grabbed the glass of water. “Think you can try another drink?”

Jack nodded and opened his mouth for the straw, taking a greedy gulp of the glucose/water hybrid, ignoring the awful taste as the cool liquid quenched his parched throat.

Steve smiled, running a hand through Jack’s hair in a silent benediction before he took the now empty glass away.

“You’re still here.” Jack’s voice was confused, words still slightly slurred with sleep. “Never here when I wake up again.”

Jack tried to sit up, but Steve’s steadying hand on his shoulder kept him in place. Agitated, Jack tried to sit up again.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. Just calm down.” Steve leaned closer to Jack.

As soon as he did, the Prince reached up to the blond’s shirt and began to pull at the buttons, fingers too uncoordinated to actually undo any of them.

“Jack, hey. What are you doing?” Steve grabbed Jack’s hand with one of his own, stilling it.

“Want you.”

“Jack, you can’t even sit up.”

“I’m fine. Don’t have time-.”

“Jack.” Steve’s stern voice caused the prince to look up. “I’m real. I’m here, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

“Stop.” Jack clenched his eyes shut. “Stop saying that! Not supposed to say that.”

“Jack…”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I tried to leave you again.” Tears started to fall down Jack’s eyes. “I need you. Please.”

Steve intertwined his fingers with Jack, lifting their hands so he could kiss the scars on the prince’s wrist. “Is that what happened here? You tried to leave me?” He asked, his thumb tracing where his lips had just been.

“You already know, Stevie. We don’t have time for this. Can’t we just…” He reached for Steve’s sleeve with his free hand, tugging at it as his eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion already creeping its way back to the surface, threatening to pull Jack under.

“I don’t know, Jack. I don’t.” The words could barely get past the lump in Steve’s throat. Because Jack was basically confirming Steve’s worst fear, and the panic and the fear that gripped his heart at knowing he almost lost Jack, that at some point, maybe even now, Jack no longer wanted to live… he’d rather take a thousand bullets than for that to be true. “Tell me. Please.”

He finally looked up to Jack’s face to find him looking away, biting his bottom lip.

“Jack?”

“I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m so sorry.” His hand tightened around the King’s. “He told me what he did, and I couldn’t…It hurt…” Jack looked panic, the heart rate monitor at his side picking up drastically in pace. “Don’t leave me yet. Please.”

“Shh.” Steve soothed, his free hand moving some of Jack’s hair out of his face, trying to remain calm despite the storm of emotions and devastation that swirled around him.

Jack let out a shuddering breath, tears pooling in his bloodshot eyes. “Tried so hard to let you go. My fault.” Jack could barely keep his eyes open. “Found me every time.”

Steve’s head shot up like a rocket. “Every time?” The words took a moment to sink in, but as soon as they did, Steve’s face morphed into a look of complete and utter horror.  “Jack, did you try this more than once?”

Jack remained silent.

“Jack!” Steve nearly shouted, the panic making him momentarily forget the fragility in which Jack currently existed.

The Prince sat frozen for a long moment, eyes staying locked with Steve, before he finally looked away, nodding as he did.

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed in an instant, hands cradling Jack’s face. “Oh God, baby.” He placed his head in the hollow of Jack’s shoulder, resting just enough weight to maintain a point of contact. His hand rested on the side of the Prince’s neck, the reassuring pulse of the other man’s heart doing little to calm the King.

“Jack, you can’t…you…I can’t lose you again.”

“Stevie.” Jack’s concern barely discernible through the exhaustion lacing his word. Though, Steve could tell Jack’s every emotion, every feeling simply through the one word.

The King pulled back slightly, though his hand gripped Jack’s like a lifeline. Get it the hell together, Rogers. He berated himself, using every ounce of willpower his body contained to hold back the panic in his throat and the tears building behind his eyes.

“It’s okay. We’re together. It’s going to be okay.” Steve was going to continue his litany, trying to convince both himself and Jack he was okay, but when he looked up, the Prince’s eyes were closed, his breath evening out in slumber.

Steve sat and watched him for a long moment, breathing through his nose as he tried to keep himself calm. However, any attempt at peace of mind was lost when he looked down and saw the scar on Jack’s wrist.

He bolted out of the chair, moving like lightning through the room and to the bathroom door, barely reaching the toilet before he was vomiting up the contents of his stomach, tears chasing one another down his cheeks.

He continued to heave long after his stomach was empty, the nausea still making his vision swim.

Finally, mercifully, the retching stopped. Steve backed away, making it to the door. He looked up to see Jack sleeping serenely on the bed, far too pale and fragile.

Steve shoved a hand against his mouth to quiet the sob that escaped him.

As soon as he got the door closed, he rested his head against it and let the wailing, ugly sobs take over.

The punching bag rocked precariously on its hinges as Steve hit punch after devastating punch on it. He hadn’t even bothered to wrap his hands, in too much of a hurry to work off the anxiety and anger.

And, if the added pain of cracked and bleeding knuckles helped ground him, so be it.

Steve continued his punches, his pace increasing as he replayed the conversation with Jack in his mind. The tears, the sorrow, the scars.

Letting out an inhuman shout of rage, Steve delivered one last punch, all the force he could muster behind him.

He caught the bag against his torso as it swung back to him, resting heavily against it and taking in loud, harsh breaths.

A low whistle from the doorway caught his attention.

Natasha Romanoff leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Lover boy still asleep?”

Steve scowled at her for a moment then nodded. “I should have stayed up there, but…”

“Steve, you’ve stayed at his bedside for over 72 hours straight. I think he’d understand you needing some air.”

He grabbed his water bottle, but did not take a drink, instead sliding down the wall of the gym, taking in a shaky breath as he put his head in his hands. “He tried to kill himself. More than once.” The words sounded vile on Steve’s tongue, causing the nausea to once again surface, though he was able to keep a handle on it this time.

“I know.” She slid down the wall to sit next to Steve. “Lucinda told me.”

“Did she say why?”

The Black Widow looked away.

“What did she say?”

“Steve…” Natasha’s voice was wary, trying to warn him off this train of thought.

Steve’s hands were clenched into fists at his side as he demanded “Tell me.”

“Silas told him how you really died. Told Jack it was his fault. Lucinda said Jack just spiraled after that. Stopped eating, stopped fighting back against the guards.”

“Fighting back?”

“I guess some of the guards weren’t very appreciative of Jack sneaking out and getting them in trouble over the years. Decided it was time for payback.”

Steve took in a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger. “Anything else?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

Natasha only hesitated a moment, before “Apparently, after they found him bleeding out the first time, Silas told Jack he only had him saved because he didn’t have a proper heir yet.” Natasha’s voiced dropped an octave. “And that Jack hadn’t suffered enough.”

Steve was on his feet, pacing back and forth angrily, muttering curses under his breath, agitated hands running through his hair.

Natasha remained silent, watching the King with calculating eyes.

Finally, she asked, “What’s our play?”

Steve spun on his heels. “Take the team to Gilboa. I’m not leaving Jack, but you do what needs to be done.”

Natasha nodded. “And the guards who beat him?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, working back and forth. “Just make sure Jack never has to worry about any of them touching him again.”

Natasha nodded, getting to her feet, leaving the room without a word.

Steve walked back into Jack’s room almost 12 hours after leaving. He had attempted to return before, but Bruce, along with Peggy, had demanded that Steve shower, get something to eat, and sleep in an actual bed for at least six hours.

Since he was right next door and Bruce had promised to get Steve immediately if Jack so much as stirred, he agreed, too exhausted both mentally and physically to put up more than a token protest.

Steve walked up to the bed, placing his hand on Jack’s forehead, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool skin, the fever having broken during Steve’s absence. He noted that Bruce had removed the IV from the arm, feeling Jack had gained enough nutrients intravenously.

Apparently, the exhaustion and medicine were beginning to wear thin, because Jack’s eyes fluttered at Steve’s touch.

“Hey, baby.” Steve smiled. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not tired.” Though he yawned as he said it.

“Sure you’re not.” Steve chuckled, helping the Prince sit up against a mountain of pillows. “You’re going to be okay. You’re safe.” The reassurance more for himself than Jack. “Dr. Banner said you could try some Jell-O, if you think you’re up for it.”

“No.” Jack said harshly, eyes growing hard.

“Jack?”

“No, we don’t have much longer.” Jack reached up to take off the hoodie he was wearing.

Steve put his hand on Jack’s, stilling it. “Stop.”

“What? Stevie, please, I just...I know it’s not real, but you’re the only good thing I have left.”

“Jack, listen to me.” He put his hands on either side of the Prince’s face. “You are safe, okay. I got you out of Gilboa. Silas will never hurt you again.”

“Is this because of Joseph?” Jack whispered quietly, eyes darting to the floor.

“What?” Steve asked, genuinely confused, but making sure to keep any frustrating or accusation out of his voice.

“I’m sorry. I never stopped loving you, but I loved him too, and, please don’t hate me. I’m sorry.” Jack was near hysterics as Steve reached out to hug him, wanting nothing more than to wrap the sobbing prince in his arms and keep him there. However, he stopped short, his nobility winning out. Jack, in his right mind, might not want his ex-boyfriend touching him that way.

Steve settled for resting his hand on the back of Jack’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I’d never hate you for being happy, Jack. Never.”

Jack let out a shaky breath, then looked around, his eyes finally noting how the room was different. Fear crept into his eyes as he scooted slightly away from Steve.

The King quickly dropped his hand, picking up on the dark haired man’s discomfort. “Jack?”

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“What? Jack, no. You’re in Brooklyn. You’re safe.”

“Oh, God, I’m in Hell.”

“No, Jack-“

“Then why won’t you touch me!?” Jack practically shouted. He reached up to tug his own hair. “I only have one good thing left, and that’s my damn hallucinations of you. And it’s in my head. Why won’t you work!?” Jack shouted, reaching up and hitting himself hard against side of his head. He did it once more before Steve could react.

And react he did. Steve practically dove across the bed, catching both of Jack’s wrists with his hands. “Jack! Stop it!”

“No, this isn’t right. You’re supposed to make me forget! Why isn’t this right!?”

“Jack…”

“Just make me forget, Steve. Please.” His eyes were bright with tears. “I know you’re just in my head, but just…I need you.”

And God, Steve…Steve felt like he’d just been ran over by an entire platoon of tanks. Like his heart had been cut out with Logan’s knives, shocked with Natasha’s Widow’s Bites, before being shot full of Clint and Kate’s arrows.

And with almost every fiber of his being, he wanted nothing more than to give into Jack, to do whatever it took to get that lost and devastated look off his face.

But, “Jack, you don’t even know where you are.” Steve explained softly. “We can’t…you don’t even know I’m real.”

“Stop it.” Jack muttered, turning his head away from Steve.

“Jack, I’m not going to take advantage of you like that. When you realize you’re safe...”

“Stop it.”

“Jack, I’m real!”

“Stop saying that!” Jack covered his ears with his hands, shaking his head frantically, trying to block Steve out.

Steve cradled the dark haired man’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I’m real, dammit!” His voice rising, frustrations and emotions finally coming to the surface. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“CAUSE IT’LL HURT MORE WHEN I WAKE UP!” Jack snapped, causing Steve to pull away abruptly, taken aback by the fierceness of the outburst. “You aren’t real! Silas killed you because I loved you! And he’s going to kill me too! And I’ll go to Hell and never see you again!”

“Damn it!” Steve shouted, standing up and sweeping the lamp off the night stand, away from Jack and to the floor below. He picked up his chair and hurdled it across the room, causing it to shatter and splinter as it slammed against the wall.

“Steve?” Jack’s voice sounded confused and concerned as he watched the King knock all the objects off the nearby dresser.

Gabe Jones and Dum Dum Dugan of the Howling Commandos opened the door, prepared for a fight, but stopped short when they only saw Steve and Jack in the room.

“Get out!” Steve shouted, and the two quickly exited, shutting the door behind them, as the King picked up a table and flipped it over.

He stood in the center of the room, taking in the devastation, tears building in his eyes as he stumbled toward the bed. He collapsed in front of it, his back resting on the side.

Seven years. He had wanted this back for seven years, but no matter what he did, what he said, he couldn’t get Jack to believe he was real, that he was safe and away from Silas. And Steve had no idea how to fix this – fix the fact that Jack thought he was still in danger, that he wanted to die, that he thought he was destined to Hell and an eternity away from Steve…

A loud sob broke free from the King, his body trembling as he buried his face in his hands, tears streaming down his face at an alarming rate.

And no, Jack thought, this isn’t right. Steve never did this. Steve always tried to comfort Jack, always did whatever Jack wanted – what he thought he needed – to get through whatever torture Silas had just put him through.

But Steve never lost his temper. He never cried. He stayed strong because Jack needed him strong because a broken Steve…

The Prince’s eyes grew wide as the realization dawned on him.

“Steve?” He asked as if seeing the man before him for the first time. He looked around the room, frantically, taking in everything and noticing how none of it even remotely resembled his room in Gilboa.

Steve looked up at Jack, hope bleeding into his expression as he watched Jack finish his sweep of the room before his wide eyes finally locked onto Steve’s, a hint of fear and a great deal of confusion coloring them.

“Is this –“ Taking note of the tears that continued to cascade down Steve’s face, he took in a sharp, shaky breath. “This is real. Oh, god, you’re…Steve.”

At the sound of his broken name, Steve lurched forward, getting on the bed and pulling Jack into a tight embrace. The Prince shook against him, hands maneuvering all over Steve’s body, touching every inch of the very real physical being that was currently pulling him against his chest. “You’re real. You’re real. You’re real.”

He buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve could feel the tears against his skin and dribbling down onto his shirt collar, but it didn’t matter. Because Jack was well and truly awake now.

“He said he killed you.” Jack’s words were muffled by Steve’s body.

“I know, baby. I know.” Steve’s fingertips massaged Jack’s scalp, something the other man had always found comforting. “I’m here.” He pressed a kiss to Jack’s temple. “I’m real. I’m never leaving you again.”

Jack sobbed, hands bunching in the front of the blond’s shirt as he tried to pull him closer, letting himself be wrapped in the cocoon Steve seemed to be trying to make out of his body. “They said you were dead.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Steve soothed, his arm tightening around Jack’s body.

Jack rested his lips on the pulse point in Steve’s neck, letting out a gasp as he felt the blood beating beneath his skin, more proof that he was finally safe – not only safe but with Steve. The Prince pulled himself further into Steve’s arm, resting his nose behind Steve’s ear, and oh God, he still smelt the same.

Jack breathed deeply, untangling one of his hands from Steve’s shirt and resting it on his chest, over his heart, so he could continue to feel the pulse. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be overwhelmed by anything and everything that was Steve.

His body shook against the other man, completely wrecked with emotions and exhaustion. Steve pressed a kiss to the side of Jack’s head, placing his cheek there immediately after, arms staying as tight around Jack as he dared.

The King held the younger man through the tremors, the near wailing sobs that erupted from him as he ran through the gambit of emotions – relief in his safety, heartbreak at what he had endured, anger at the lies, guilt at his actions, and immeasurable joy at once again being in Steve’s arms. He clung to the King like an anchor in a storm, letting out all the hurt he had bottled up for so long.

Steve, for his part, was a rock. Though a few tears found their way down his face, he held Jack steady, breathing words of comfort and reassurance against his temple between soft presses of his lips.

Finally, Jack calmed down enough to pull away from Steve, though he was still practically sitting in the other man’s lap. He cupped the older man’s cheek, his red-rimmed eyes full of awe and love.

“How?” Jack’s words come out strained, almost choked down by the emotions closing his throat.

Steve reached up to wipe the tears from Jack’s cheek, his smile releasing what felt like the warmth of the sun on Jack’s far-too-cold soul. He himself struggled with words, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He opened his mouth to recount his tale to Jack, tell him about the past seven years, but before he could get the first syllable out, Jack’s hand slid to the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him forward into a bruising kiss.

Steve’s mouth opened before he could even fully register what was happening, lips moving against Jack’s, though the Prince was obviously the one in control of the kiss. 

A moan vibrated in Steve’s throat at Jack’s desperate touches before he was wrapping his arms around the brunet, lifting him up and pulling him completely into his lap, hand gripping Jack’s shaggy hair. His tongue explored the Prince’s mouth in a desperate need to fill every sense, every fiber of his being with Jack.

The younger man began pulling at the hem of Steve’s shirt, lifting it up his body, though he couldn’t get it far since Steve’s annoying, stupid, big, strong, perfect arms were in the way.

The hand Steve didn’t currently have tangled in Jack’s hair found its way under his shirt, running up and down the Prince’s side.

However, the feeling of too sharp and too prominent ribs broke Steve out of his trance and he pulled away, breaking the kiss as he dropped his hands from Jack, who took the opportunity to get Steve’s shirt off of him before the older man even realized what he was doing.

He lunged forward again, but was stopped by Steve’s hand on his shoulder, holding him back. Jack looked up at him through wide, confused eyes.

“Steve?”

“We can’t do this, Jack.” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I…” Jack took in a shaky breath, berating himself. Of course Steve doesn’t want him anymore. He would have moved on, found someone who actually deserved him. Not some broken, worthless man who had been his downfall, had gotten his family killed.

He couldn’t help the tears that started flowing, causing him to break eye contact because the last thing he wanted was to make Steve feel guilty. “I understand.” Jack whispered, though his traitorous voice cracked on the last word.

Steve watched Jack fold in on himself, confused by the complete 180, before the cause dawned on him. “No.” Gently he took him by the chin and made him look up, his heart breaking at the renewed tears. “Oh, Jack.” He whispered softly, wiping away his tears with the pads of his thumbs. “You just woke up. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Huh?”

Steve leaned forward, resting their foreheads together. “We can’t do this if it’ll hurt you.”

Jack let out a shudder breathe, closing his eyes as relief washed over him. “I thought…”

“I know.” Steve whispered, running a hand through Jack’s hair.

It took the brunet a moment to collect himself. For the panic and the loss to work their way out of his system, before he flashed the shadow of the confident smile he used to wear so well. “I’ll be fine.”

He tried to kiss Steve again, but the other man pulled away.

“Steve.” Jack whined. “I’m fine.

“I can’t hurt you Jack.”

“Then don’t.” Jack whispered, reaching up to cup Steve’s face, closing his eyes as the King turned to kiss his palm.

The brunet once again pulled the other man forward, kissing him deeply as Steve worked with the zipper of the hoodie, pushing it off Jack’s shoulders. His hands explored the expansion his chest, tender and loving.

He careful laid Jack back on the bed, hovering over him, elbows braced on either side of Jack, one hand still tangled in his hair. He slowed down the frantic air Jack had been setting before, letting the love and affection he had for the Prince wash over the both of them.

 He stopped abruptly though, sitting up between Jack’s legs.

Jack rolled his eyes “What now?”

“You have a fiancé.”

Jack outright laughed, a sound that was more beautiful to Steven than any symphony he had heard. “That’s what’s hanging you up?” He sat up to quickly press his lips to Steve’s. “It was never real. She’s always known that.”

“You’re still engaged.”

The Prince threw his head back and groaned. “Steve, do you want to do this?”

“Jack…”

“It’s a simple question, Stevie.” Jack intertwined their fingers, eyes darting away nervously, before he finally met his gaze. The Prince’s expression was completely open and honest, vulnerability about him that Steve was unaware he was capable of. “Do you still want me?”

“God, Jack.” His voice soft as to not break the fragile moment. “You know I do.”

Jack’s body nearly deflated as the tension spilled out of him. He had to look away, overwhelmed by the emotions pouring out of Steve.

When he looked up, the corner of his mouth was twisted up in a smirk. “Then stopped being such a noble idiot and …”

He couldn’t finish as Steve propelled himself forward in an attempt to kiss Jack. However, instead, their foreheads crashed together with a loud THUD.

“God, Rogers.” Jack laughed, pulling back to rub his forehead, watching Steve fondly as he rested his head against his shoulder. “You’re out of practice. When’s the last time you got any?”

Jack could feel the hard lines of Steve’s body go rigid with tension.

“Steve?”

The blond shook his head against Jack, trying to wave it off, kissing his way up Jack’s shoulder. The Prince ignored him as much as he could, running through the comment in his head, before a dark thought popped in his head.

“Steve?” The King hummed against the patch of skin he was sucking. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

Steve paused, lips grazing Jack’s skin. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, Stevie. It does.”

Steve sighed, leaning forward to bury his face in Jack’s shoulder. The prince’s hand instinctively went to brush through Steve’s hair, soothing him, until he muttered something against his lover’s skin, too muffled to make out.

“Say again?”

Steve sighed, leaning back so he was no longer touching Jack, his eyes downcast, dodging the other’s gaze.  “The last time I was with you.” He spoke softly.

“I…” Jack paused, before cupping Steve’s face in his hands, forcing him to look up. “What? Steve that was seven years ago.”

“I would have been betraying you.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“But I knew you were alive.” Steve placed a hand on his cheek. “I always planned to come back for you, Jack. Always. I just thought I would have to wait until you were King.”

“You were going go celibate for maybe decades because you didn’t want to betray me.” Jack scoffed, shaking his head as he looked away. “Meanwhile, I was sleeping with half of Gilboa.”

“Hey,” Steve forced Jack to face him. “If it helped you find some happiness and kept  you sane until I could get back to you, then I’m glad you had that.”

Jack signed, leaning forward until his forehead was resting on Steve’s pec. “God, how are you even real?” He smiled as he felt Steve’s laugh vibrate through his chest.  “You know, that means we’ve got seven years to make up for.”

“What do you think I was trying to do before you started talking?” Steve asked, exasperated.

“Well,” Jack began kissing his way up Steve’s chest, loving the sharp intake of breath the King gave as Jack paused to leave a hickey on the base of his throat, before kissing the rest of the way up. He paused just before he reached Steve’s lips. “Where were we?”

Steve awoke, naked, the blankets and Jack’s legs tangled in his own. Jack’s face was laying on his chest, his arm draped over Steve’s waist, their hands intertwined.

Steve closed his eyes, the memories of last night mixing with the sheer relief and disbelief that Jack was not only here, but that he was safe and still wanted Steve. The King traced patterns on Jack’s back, a dopey smile lighting up his face.

Eventually, the dark haired man stirred beside him, causing Steve to loosen his grip, not wanting to overwhelm the Prince. He glanced around, bewilderment and some confusion on his face, before his gaze finally landed on Steve. He stared for a long moment, before slamming his eyes shut, taking in a harsh breath.

“Hey, Baby.” Steve whispered, cupping Jack’s check with the hand that had been holding his. “You still with me?”

The exhale came out choppy, overcome, but he nodded against the hand, glassy eyes opening to meet Steve’s. “Yeah.” He turned to kiss Steve’s palm, before surging up to place a chaste kiss on Steve’s lips. “You’re still here.” He buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“Yeah.” The blond planted a kiss on the top of Jack’s head, letting his lips linger. “I’m here.”

The two lay together for a long moment, Steve’s hand carding through Jack’s hair.

“You know we’re going to have to talk, right?” Steve softly broke the silence that had settled over them.

“What about?” Jack asked, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Steve’s ribcage.

“You said a lot of stuff while you were still out of it.”

Jack pulled back slightly, a look of confusion before horrified realization dawned on him. “Oh, God.” He flopped his head onto the pillow, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hands. “I actually said all that.”

Steve scooted closer, wrapping his arm around Jack’s waist and pulling him closer, before resting his head on the pillow beside him.

Jack turned to face Steve, a look of pure awe and adoration on his face. “You really forgave me? That wasn’t a dream?”

“Not much to forgive, Jack.” Steve raised Jack’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“I killed people, Steve. Good people.”

“You got played. You were backed into a corner and lashed out in order to survive.” Steve’s eyes were hard, leaving not room for argument. “Yeah, you made mistakes, we all have, but I think you’ve more than paid for yours.”

Jack closed his eyes, letting Steve’s words wash over him, content to finally be somewhere he actually felt he belonged.

“We still have to talk, though.” Steve said, thumb tracing the scar on Jack’s wrist. “Especially about this.”

Jack sighed, looking away. “What about it?”

“Why?”

“I …” Jack swallowed, tears building in his eyes. “Silas,” the word came out harsh, full of anger. “Had your house burned to the ground, told everyone your family had died in a fire. He never even told me he knew about us until two months ago.” Jack let out a shaky breath. “He was trying to break me. Told me how he took you and your family out to the woods.” Jack got a far-away look in his eyes. “He said you blamed me. That it was my fault you died.”

“No.” Steve said, cradling Jack’s face. “What happened to me, to my family, none of that is on you. I’ll never blame you.”

“He wouldn’t have hurt you if it hadn’t been for me.” Jack closed his eyes tightly. “I destroy everything I touch.”

Steve grabbed Jack’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “I’m still here.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Jack’s hand. “You said you had…” Steve couldn’t get the words out.

“Tried to off myself?” Jack tried to sound flippant, making a joke of the situation, but the bravado was lost on Steve, who merely moved closer, tightening the arm around the Prince’s waist. His thumb moved subconsciously to the pulse point on the brunet’s wrist. “Sorry.”

Steve nodded, eyes closed as he focused on the beat of Jack’s heart for a moment. Finally, he finished his question from early. “You tried more than once?”

“I…I stopped eating. I tried to slit my wrist, but they took my razor after that. Tried to use my pajama pants to hang…”

Steve shuddered against Jack, before curling around him like an octopus, head buried in the crook of his neck as he wrapped his legs around Jack’s.

“Sorry.” Jack murmured, kissing Steve’s temple as he ran a comforting hand up and down Steve’s back, nails scratching lightly. “You don’t need all the details.” Steve began to protest, but Jack stopped him. “At least not right now. Maybe when we’re both in a better headspace?”

Steve looked at Jack like he wanted to argue, but eventually nodded, reaching up to leave little kisses along Jack’s jawline as he brought their held hands to rest on Jack’s chest. “Do you…are you still…?”

“No.” Jack immediately answered, then thought to elaborate. “I’m pretty screwed up in the head, Stevie, but I know I don’t want to leave you again.”

“Good. That’s good.” He paused, jaw working back and forth as he carefully formulated words in his head. “I…I think you should see someone. Dr. Banner has some really great therapist willing to meet with you.”

Jack studied Steve for a long moment, before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

The Prince could feel the tension leave the King’s body. “I’ll have Bruce set it up.” The silent thank you and I just want you safe and please don’t leave me hung in the air between them.

“Do you…” Steve paused, unsure if he should continue, but he did anyway, his voice lowering, though there was no accusation or anger in it. “Do you want to talk about Joseph?”

Jack immediately shook his head. “No, I…no. Not yet.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded. “Okay.”

Jack finally rolled onto his side so he was facing Steve again. “How are you even here? How did you get me out?” He studied him for a second. “God, you did something stupid, didn’t you?”

Steve scoffed, “Of course not. Believe or not, I do occasionally have good plans.”

“Things have changed, then.” Jack chuckled, but his demeanor remained serious. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, Jack. I’m fine.”

“What happened to you?”

“After they…after my family…” Steve struggled through the words, comforted by Jack’s hand carding through his hair. “King Erskine found me. Took me in and let me join the army.”

“Steve…”

“I had to do something, Jack.” Steve’s voice was quiet. “I was losing my mind and I couldn’t just sit around Brooklyn all day waiting for you to become King.” A pause. “I eventually became leader of the Avengers.”

Jack sat up at that, eyes wide. “The Avengers? Holy shit, Steve.”

“Erskine thought I had potential.”  Something heavy sat in the air. “You know that his son died in battle, right? So, he had to appoint a successor since he didn’t have a blood heir?”

“Yeah, so?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could come out, a loud knock on the bedroom door and a voice from the other side interrupted them.

“King Rogers?”

Jack’s head snapped up to look at Steve as the man put his head in his hands, because he really wanted to be the one to explain this. It wasn’t a bad thing, per say, but it was still something Jack should have heard from Steve.

“K-King?” Jack choked out.

Steve momentarily ignored him. “Yeah, Dugan?”

“Hate to interrupt, but you’re needed in the War Room. Apparently Gath heard about your little escapade into Gilboa. Their Premier is refusing to talk to General Carter ‘cause he don’t think a woman can lead, and well, you can imagine how much longer Peggy’s diplomacy is going to hold out.”

Steve sighed loudly, running both hands down his face. “Give me three minutes. Try to make sure Hill or Carter don’t declare war until then. We don’t need an international incident on our hands, even if that chauvinist ass Shaw deserves it.”

“Aye, aye, ‘Majesty.”

Steve turned to look at Jack, who was watching him with wide, confused eyes. “You’re the King?” There was a sense of hurt and betrayal in Jack’s voice. Like this was something he should have been told days ago. And, in hindsight, it probably was, but Jack’s psyche was so fragile Steve didn’t want to drop such a large bombshell on him until he was better.

Steve nodded.

“How long?”

“About three weeks.” He quickly locked eyes with Jack. “I swear, I didn’t know what Silas was doing to you until after Erskine died. I got to you as soon as I could. I wasn’t just…” Steve was rambling. “I should have gotten to you sooner. I should have left the day I…”

Jack cut him off with a quick kiss, taking Steve by surprise for a moment, before the blond melted into the touch and tangled his hand in Jack’s hair.

Jack broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Steve’s, chuckling. “You invaded a foreign country, during the first week of your reign, to save a criminal.”

“Prisoner.” Steve corrected, pressing his lips to the corner of Jack’s mouth before frowning. “I…”

“Go.”

“Are you…?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.” He said, smiling into the kiss Steve quickly gave him.

The King was not as quick to release his grip, though, cradling the back of Jack’s head in his hand. “Dugan and Morita are stationed outside the door. They’re good men, you can trust them. Tell them if you need anything. I’ll have some food brought up for you. It’ll probably only be soft foods, but try to eat a little bit? And Dr. Banner will want to stop…”

“Steve…” Jack cut him off. “I’ll be okay.”

Steve nodded, his eyes wide, fear and sadness battling for dominance. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then go handle this so you can get back.” Jack suggested softly.

Steve nodded, giving Jack another quick kiss before he rolled out of the bed, quickly getting dressed.

As his hand landed on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder.

“I love you.”

Jack looked slightly taken aback by the declaration. Steve almost started apologizing, figuring he had screwed this up.

“Stevie, I…” Jack’s mouth tried to form the words, but he couldn’t get them out. He looked at the other man helplessly, hoping he could understand that just couldn’t say the words yet.

Steve gave a small, knowing smile, before he left the room.

Steve climbed back into Jack's room a little past 11 PM, completely exhausted by what had turned into an unbelievably long day, because apparently when the King walked away from the throne for a few days, everything went wrong.

First, he had to deal with Peggy and Bloody hell, Steven, could you at least try to cover the hickeys up?   Then the leaders of Gath had threatened to wage war on Brooklyn, viewing the invasion of Gilboa as a personal attack due to their treaty with the other country. Luckily, Steve’s earnest charm and boyish grin were able to keep them out of trouble and even win Gath over, for the Premier was none too trusting of Silas when he heard what the man had done to his own flesh and blood.

Then, he had a meeting with Peter and Gwen Parker, the crown’s official journalist, to discuss the exact statement they wanted to release about Jack and the mission into Gilboa. They had finally decided on holding a press conference within the week when Clint Barton, who had been acting as Steve’s personal detail for the day, informed him that there was an issue upstairs. Of course there was.

However, his annoyance soon turned to fear when the archer told him there was something wrong with Jack.

So, then he had to run upstairs and diffuse a situation where Jack was screaming at Tony and Sam that Steve wasn’t gay and that they couldn’t take his crown. Silas had messed with his brain so much that he actually thought everyone would turn against Steve if they knew about them.

Steve had finally managed to calm him down, tell him that it was fine, it was allowed here in Brooklyn. That all his friends already knew and they didn’t care. That no one would ever hurt him for loving Jack, not again.

After things had settled, he was able to eat a light lunch – chicken noodle soup and crackers – with Jack, before the Prince fell back asleep.

Steve was then called away again for meeting after meeting in order to ensure Jack’s safety and to make sure that his future course of actions would not result in a war. Not exactly a quick day.

Back in the room, Steve rested a hand on Jack’s forehead to check for a fever, despite having talked to Dr. Banner who had ensured Steve that Jack was doing as well as could be expected physically. He cursed himself when the man stirred under his touch.

“Stevie?” Jack slurred, eyes fluttering open under dark lashes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” He brushed a stray lock from his forehead. “I was just checking on you. Go back to sleep.” Steve moved to sit at the chair next to the bed, but was stopped when Jack grabbed his forearm.

“Stay.”

Steve nodded, not needing to be told twice as he slipped off his shoes and his jeans, crawling into bed behind Jack, wrapping a loose arm around the Prince’s waist. The smaller man instantly scooted back until his back was flush against Steve’s chest.

Steve took in a deep breath, unable to believe this was all happening, that Jack was with him and safe. He rested his lips against the back of Jack’s neck, happily breathing in the scent until he too fell into slumber.

What felt like minutes, but was actually over four hours later, Steve woke up, feeling a presence in the room. Luckily he was sleeping on his back with Jack using his chest as a pillow, so he was able to grab the gun he kept on the floor right under the bed. Gripping the handle inconspicuously, he waited a moment, allowing his sense of hearing and environment to help him pinpoint the location of the intruder.

He snapped his eyes open, pointing the gun directly ahead, keeping the rest of his body still as to not disturb Jack.

He lowered the weapon, the tension seeping out of him as he saw Natasha standing before him, hand resting on her hip and a delicate eyebrow raised. She walked toward the door, an unsaid message to follow her for the mission report. He swiftly got out of bed, careful not to wake Jack, and followed the woman outside the room.

About a half-hour later, Steve tiptoed back into the room, closing the door silently behind him as he crawled back into bed, attempting to not wake Jack up.

Despite his best efforts, the prince rolled over, eyes full of concern as he looked at Steve.

“Hey, sorry I woke you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Steve leaned forward and placed a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, what’s wrong?” He sat up on his elbows at the King’s silence. “Steve?”

The blond sighed, taking a long moment to look Jack in the eye.

“I sent a team to Gilboa.”

“When?”

“While you were still out of it.”

“They’re back, aren’t they?”

Steve nodded, giving Jack reason to pause for a moment, before, “Tell me.”

“Another team found David Sheppard and Michelle. Your sister wants to see you, but she was told only when and if you’re ready.”

“The guards who hurt you,” Steve struggled to keep the hate and anger out of his voice, “you never have to worry about them again.”

Jack nodded, unsure of how to frame the most pertinent question, the one that wanted to burst forth from his lips that gripped him with unease and fear. Finally, he managed to barely whisper “my parents?”

“Rose is in exile. Forever.” Steve gripped Jack’s hand tightly. “I know she’s your mother and wasn’t nearly as horrible as Silas but she still used you and hurt you and she can’t…she wasn’t hurt and can still have a normal life somewhere, just not near you. She can’t have the chance to hurt you again.”

Jack nodded, seemingly content with the answer. “And Silas?”

“He’s dead.”

The tension seeped out of Jack as he rolled into Steve’s arms, letting the King hold him, hands bunching into the fabric of Steve’s tanktop. He didn’t cry, but he shook slightly in Steve’s arm, his fragile mind processing the information that had just been presented to him.

Eventually, Jack pulled back slightly, and Steve took it as a sign it was safe to further the conversation.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I…” He looked at Steve, wide-eyed, full of awe and disbelief. “You had him killed for me?”

“He was a tyrant. But I would have let him live had he been willing to walk out of your life forever. He wouldn’t. So, my team, um…”

“Killed him.” Jack supplied, any fond feelings he had for his father long gone. He lurched up and kissed Steve, long and hard, a light and free feeling overtaking him as the weight of what Silias had done and the threat he posed fell away.

“Thank you.” He muttered against Steve’s lips, pressing their forehead’s together.

Steve smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know, that makes you King now.”

Jack pulled back from him, confused, looking at Steve as though he’d just grown another head. “What?”

“You’re the heir. You’re the King of Gilboa now. Once you’re feeling up to it I’ll get my team to fly you back and some of them can stay until you…”

“I abdicate.” Jack’s voice was hardly audible, a contemplative look on his face, as though he was confused by his own words, unsure of how they fit on his tongue.

“Can get people you…” The fact that Jack had spoken finally registered, causing Steve to look at him, wide-eyed, because there’s no way he heard him correctly. “What?”

“I abdicate.” Jack said, voice stronger, before he laughed, a lightness in his eyes that had been missing for far too long. “I abdicate.”

“Jack, you need to think about this. You’re in a bad headspace. This has always been your dream. You’ve always wanted the crown.”

Jack shook his head. “And end up like Silas? He’s corrupted everything he’s touched, including me. I won’t become him. Give the crown to Michelle or David. They’re more suited for it.”

“Jack…”

Jack cupped Steve’s cheek. “You’re the only good thing I have left, Steve. I…” He looked uncertain, worried about the reaction that would result from his next statement. “I want to stay…with you, if you’ll-“

He was cut off by Steve’s lips on his, soft and gentle, just like the man had always been with Jack. He cradled Jack’s face in his hands, peppering Jack’s face with kisses.

“Stay.”  He muttered between his lips pressing along Jack’s jawline, tears brimming in his eyes. “I want you to stay.” He moved back to his lips. “Please.”

He nodded against him. “Okay.”

Steve could feel the slight tremors of Jack’s body against him, overwrought with emotions and stress, as the brunet rested his forehead his shoulder, eyes closed as the reality of all this washed in. You’re with Steve. He’s alive. He’s safe. You’re together. You’re with Steve…

The repetition echoed through his mind, matching the beating of his racing heart.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.” He heard Steve muttering into his hair, pressing a quick kiss there.

Jack stiffened as he realized he had said the words aloud.

Steve said nothing of Jack’s slip, merely laid them back on the bed, curling up against his side, resting his head on the pillow next to him. He held the hand closest to him, while using his free arm to run his fingers up and down Jack’s forearm in a soothing manner.

The brunet smiled at him, as the familiar sound of Steve humming “Hey Jude” filled the room.

Suddenly, the words from earlier were no longer caught in Jack’s throat. Instead, they were forming a pressure in him, screaming in his skull and behind his teeth, demanding to be let loose, to be said, because these words, they were the truest thing, the only true thing Jack had left, and he wanted to scream it from the rooftops.

He reached his free arm up to Steve’s face, caressing the cheek gently to gain the King’s attention.

“I love you, Steve.”

Steve smiled, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss to Jack’s lips, his mouth vibrating as he continued to hum. He paused only long enough to respond with, “I love you too, Jack. Get some sleep.”

Allowing Steve to curl around him, holding him tight and humming his favorite Beatles’ tune, he allowed the love and affection to wash over him and carry him to sleep.