Chapter Text
"Aliens?" Tony Stark repeated in disbelief. "Again?"
The Avengers had received a distress call from New SHIELD about an hour ago and had just assembled at the organization's Manhattan base. Steve was dressed in the stealth suit Tony had designed—and actively considered one of his finer creations—and was paging through the folder Fury had distributed. Though Steve didn't appear to be actively listening to what the SHIELD's former director was saying, Tony had no doubt he was still absorbing and prioritizing the details.
Sitting on Steve's right was Barnes, also in a darkened SHIELD uniform. He wasn't exactly smiling, but he looked as content as Tony had seen him in a while.
It had been a long year since Barnes had collapsed at the front door of Avengers Tower while trying to see Steve. He had been critically malnourished and suffering from a host of other physical issues. His body had healed at a speed second only to Steve's, but his mind had taken a lot longer. It had come out at one point that he thought he'd killed Tony's parents, and while Tony had initially been furious, after a lot of time and therapy, he'd come to realize that Barnes was just the weapon and not the mastermind, which only fueled his motivation to take out as many Hydra bases as possible.
That wasn't to say it was all smooth sailing. Tony had initially felt resentful when Steve spent all his free time around Barnes, but he'd swallowed it down because he knew he'd do the same thing for Rhodey if their situations were flipped. Still, it was hard to see the relationship he and Steve had forged after the Battle of New York take such a backseat, even though, deep down, he understood and agreed with Steve's choice.
Things between them started getting better once Barnes' condition was determined to no longer be critical, thanks in no small part to Barnes' therapist, who said Barnes needed time on his own to start figuring out his place in the world again. Steve had slowly worked his way back into Tony's and the rest of the team's lives, and was constantly thankful for all they'd done to help out his friend.
Still, Tony and Barnes butted heads more than he and Steve had ever done: little things, big things, on missions, at team-building events. Words were said by both sides in the heat of the moment, often later forgiven, but they burned long and bright all the same. It was only once the two of them had seen how their bickering was hurting Steve that they'd both agreed to keep it civil. Initially, Tony had just done it for Steve's benefit, but as time passed, he found himself disliking Barnes less and less. It didn't hurt that Barnes had been allowed to start running missions for SHIELD, which improved his general demeanor. Plus, last week, at one of the 'Bring Steve and Barnes up to date' events the rest of the Avengers kept putting on, Barnes had actually cracked a joke that Tony found mildly funny, which left him thinking that a friendship might, one day, not be totally out of the realm of possibility.
Sam Wilson, the other newly-acquired Avenger after the whole Triskelion disaster, sat predictably on Steve's left. Though he wasn't who Barnes and Tony were seeing for therapy—he stated repeatedly he wasn't qualified for that sort of trauma—Sam had helped smooth over a bunch of smaller issues between various members of the team before they became divisive. His zero-bullshit tolerance had quickly endeared him to Rhodey, who had more than once reveled in the fact that they now had another completely sane person on the team.
Today, however, in direct contrast to what Rhodey thought about Sam's sanity, Sam was trying to read the mission briefing over Barnes' shoulder. Without looking back, Barnes reached over and flicked his metal hand at Sam, who backed up a little but didn't retreat entirely. Instead, he just sat up straighter, craned his neck more, and continued reading. It was a testament to how far Barnes had come that that's where the situation ended, and no one walked away with a faceful of bruises.
Across the table sat Natasha and Clint, who were fresh off a mission from places unknown and were shoveling in food at a Thor-like rate. Clint had a large bandage wrapped around his bicep, and Natasha was slightly paler than usual, but both had assured Fury they were in fighting shape. Their two briefings were splattered with ketchup and fry sauce, but were somehow getting reviewed all the same. That was a feat in itself since Tony hadn't seen Natasha or Clint let go of their food in at least five minutes.
They'd only spoken about the collapse of SHIELD once, right after it had happened. Natasha and Clint weren't quite themselves, which only proved how much the Hydra realization had shaken both of them. The creation of New SHIELD seemed to have helped ground them again, and it hadn't escaped Tony's notice how much time they were both spending with Barnes; he'd never say this on record, but it was equally hard not to notice how much Barnes was benefiting from it. The two of them seemed to be filling a gap Bucky found with Steve—probably what it was like to be mind-controlled by an evil megalomaniac, since unless the history books had left that tidbit out, it seemed to be the only experience of theirs Steve didn't share.
Thor was off-planet but Bruce was sitting next to Clint, flipping through a briefing of his own. He was weathering the 'SHIELD is actually Hydra' news quite well, mostly due to his efforts to stay off-radar, no matter who was in charge. Though he quite often took trips to other countries to work, much like he had been in India when Natasha had found him, he had moved his few things into the Tower and could be found there more often than not.
"Not aliens," corrected Nick Fury, drawing Tony out of his thoughts, "just their tech."
"I don't remember the Chitauri having any weapons like this," Steve said as he tapped a surveillance image in the briefing. The images were stills from a Raleigh bank robbery two nights ago, but instead of a familiar staff with a glowing oval on the far end, the weapons looked more like modern guns with glowing power cells added on. "Buck?"
Barnes just shook his head, his eyes not leaving the briefing in front of him.
"Yes, someone is out there modifying Chitauri weapons, but that's outside the scope of your assignment. In three days, the heads of Costa Grava are meeting with President Garcetti, for the first time in their nation's history. After this intel was brought to my attention, I tried to get Garcetti to cancel the ceremony on the South Lawn, but he refused." Fury said the last sentence through a deep scowl, which didn't disappear as he continued, "I need you all to make sure the ceremony goes smoothly."
"And no one gets evaporated by Chitauri weapons," Tony said. "Copy that."
Fury glowered at him, but it was an expression Tony had a lot of practice ignoring. Before he could fire off a retort, Clint spoke up, around a mouthful of burger. "The state dinner seems like another big security risk. Maybe we should attend that too."
Tony winced preemptively, fully expecting Natasha to bury her knife-like elbow into Clint's side, but she just looked up from her own burger and nodded in agreement.
Fury eyed both of them, who nonchalantly returned to eating. "I suppose that wouldn't be a bad idea…"
That was odd; the two SHIELD agents usually avoided public ceremonies like the plague. Tony made a mental note to ask the two of them about the state dinner later.
He then glanced down at the briefing he had yet to open, in favor of the very early 2000s-eque Powerpoint being projected on the far wall. "So," he then spoke up, "if the event isn't for another three days, why is Cap in uniform?"
"Just got back from a mission," Steve replied as he flipped the last page of the briefing and closed it with both hands.
"Same mission as the Terror Twins? Or the same one as Buckaroo?"
Steve just looked over at Tony, grinned, and said, "That's classified," at the same time Bucky might have growled slightly. Probably at the nickname. Or that was just how he breathed normally. Tony wasn't about to ask for clarification.
Part of Tony wanted to demand the real answer but the rest of him was excited to see something on Steve's face other than the doom and gloom expressions of the past year—yes, Barnes was back, which was exciting for Steve, but it had been a long road getting him weaned off the drugs, for him to stop obeying every command thrown his direction, and to start being his own person again. So, Tony dug deep and forced his own curiosity to the back burner.
"Now that we have that settled," Fury spoke up again, "it's time to discuss the plan."
Three days later, the team, dressed in black tie formal attire, were spread out around the edge of the South Lawn. A stage had been set up closest to the backside of the White House with ten rows of meticulously straight white folding chairs radiating away from it. A thick aisle cut down the center of the rows, allowing direct access to the stage.
Dressed impeccably as usual, Tony was sitting in one of hard plastic chairs, having merited a legitimate invite on his notoriety alone. This invitation was basically an all-access pass to the night's events and would put him in places the other Avengers, most of whom were disguised as security, might have trouble going. He pretended to examine the booklet he'd been handed, but in reality he was paying attention to the HUD in his glasses which was scanning the faces of everyone who walked by him.
Quiet chatter buzzed from the comm in his ear, mostly background noise, but every so often it was punctuated by one of the other Avengers commenting on the situation. As the last scan returned nothing noteworthy, Tony realized it had been a while since he did a visual inspection. He pulled his sunglasses down and rested them on the back of the chair in front of him, so they could continue their facial scans, while he took his own look around the quickly crowding area.
Though the rest of the team was undercover, it was hard to miss Steve, who was wearing a standard black security outfit, complete with thick sunglasses and a black baseball cap. He was standing behind the last row of chairs, and for once, he fit in completely with the glasses and ball cap ensemble. Tony continued scanning the lawn until he saw Clint off to his left, and Natasha to his right, both dressed identically to Steve and keeping a watchful eye on the event's attendees. Barnes was on the opposite side of the stage from Tony, looking surprisingly calm despite being thronged by people from all directions. Finally, Sam was at the back end of the lawn, helping people through the security checkpoint.
Not dissimilar to airport security, the guests were being sent through metal detectors, and were being forced to remove jackets and shoes. Bruce had also added a bar to the underside of the metal detector, which searched for radiation patterns similar to the ones Loki's staff had emitted. So far, that hadn't turned up a thing.
Speaking of Bruce, he and Fury were sitting in a news van parked around the block. Since Fury was supposed to be dead, he wouldn't be showing his face at all; Bruce only would if the situation turned sour.
Moments before the last guest had arrived, a presidential aid took the stand and asked everyone to find a seat. While Natasha and Clint were drafted into helping find places for the crowd at the back of the lawn, Tony slid his sunglasses back on his nose and quickly browsed the final results of JARVIS' scans. None of the faces the glasses had scanned had come back with any alerts, which was surprisingly good news. Maybe the Avengers wouldn't be needed here after all. It wouldn't be the worst thing, considering the insane number of missions Steve, Natasha, Clint and now Barnes had been running.
Just as the opening speaker was taking the stage, a tightly-bunched group entered from the right side of the lawn. When they got to the front row of seats, the husky and heavily-armed men on the exterior peeled away, allowing Julian Andrade, the President of Costa Grava, and his family to sit down in the second row. The guards then assumed the empty seats around the family, including those seats directly behind them. Andrade's youngest daughter, a cute thing with pigtails wider than her entire body, proceeded to steal the show. Instead of sitting straight, she stood up in her chair, turned slowly in a circle and waved at all the people watching her. The attendees collectively 'aw'd until Andrade gently took his daughter's arm and maneuvered her back into her seat.
President Garcetti then took the stage with his wife and bade welcome to the Costa Gravans. When their address was finished, he introduced speaker after speaker who showered the visitors with songs and speeches and poetry.
Tony might have zoned out slightly—there was only so many child performers he could watch in one sitting—and before he knew it, it was time for Andrade to give his address. Tony tensed as Andrade took the stage and his hand automatically hovered over the Iron Man bracelet on his wrist, but the Costa Gravan's speech finished without a single interruption. Grinning widely, Andrade shook Garcetti's hand with both of his and resumed his seat.
Then it was time for the closing, which would be led by the Garcettis. As they took the stage again, Tony heard some rustling on the comms and looked over to see Clint, who was standing directly behind him in the aisle, tense.
"What?" Tony hissed.
"I don't know," Clint replied. "Just… be ready."
Garcetti thankfully was short-winded in his closing remarks and was met with a great ovation. As the procession to the Blue Room was set to begin, Tony felt the hair rising on the back of his arms. It took him only a second to realize that was static electricity.
He lunged to his feet, smacking his bracelets as he did so, and screamed, "Get down!"
Clint and Natasha were already sprinting down the aisle and tackling the now-standing Costa Gravans to the ground. Their local security was starting to draw on the two SHIELD agents, until they heard the sound of a very powerful weapon being discharged. Their priorities changed in an instant and they began shielding the Andrades and hustling them off the lawn.
A split second later, a blue ball of pure energy sped through the air, obliterating the podium and leaving a two-foot-wide hole in the stage's backdrop.
Tony didn't have time to look around for the rest of the Avengers. His mission from Fury was to protect the First Family, as well as the Costa Gravans. Thankfully, he heard a different sort of flight pattern incoming, and a beat later, his suit enclosed around him. As the HUD burst to life, Tony spun around and fired off a shot in the direction the blast had come from. Then he turned to the Secret Service, who were scrambling to get the First Family off stage.
"Are they hit?" he shouted into the comms.
"Negative," Sam replied from somewhere off to Tony's right.
The invitees around him were screaming in fear, but before the noise drowned out the comms, JARVIS filtered it out.
A second blast buried itself just in front of the first row of seats, narrowly missing the Costa Gravans, Clint and Natasha. Having hit the deck again, this time they remained prone, while forcing the visiting family to crawl toward the wings, where more protection lay.
"Do we have origin on the blast?" Fury demanded.
"Southwest," Barnes said, which was confirmed by JARVIS a split second later. "Half a mile."
"I'm on it," Steve said. Without waiting for a response, his footsteps sped up and his breath quickened. "Get everyone else to safety."
"I'm with—" Barnes began, but Natasha cut him off.
"We need you here, in case there's more than one shooter."
"I'll be fine, Buck," Steve called, and in the background of the comms, there rose a cacophony of car horns and incensed shouts.
Barnes cursed loudly and colorfully before grunting out, "You'd better be."
"What's the plan?" Clint shouted, seconds before a third blast obliterated the remnants of the podium.
Natasha quickly and concisely laid out her strategy for getting everyone off the lawn safely, finishing with, "We could use an assist, Bruce."
"Dr. Banner has already exited the van," Fury said before his line went silent.
He needn't have bothered responding. In almost that same second, Tony heard a very familiar roar and saw the Hulk scale the metal detector and plant himself in front of the stage, blocking the path to the Secret Service and First Family.
Now the alien blasts started coming faster and in groups of three. Thankfully, they all seemed to be aimed at the stage, which was now empty, so it was mostly the plastic chairs that were disintegrated. However, a few unlucky reporters, who refused to give up their exclusive, were hit by flying pieces of plastic or wood as they attempted to trail the First Family.
Tony continued funneling people behind the stage and toward the safety of the White House, every so often firing a repulsor back toward the origin of the blasts, hoping to take out the shooter. At that distance, he probably wasn't hitting anyone, unless they'd moved closer since Barnes' original half-mile estimate.
"I've located the building," Steve said, and his breathing increased as he presumably tore up the stairs. "Seems like one shooter. 35th floor."
"Be careful." Tony was surprised to hear that coming from Clint and not from Barnes, who just hummed what must have been an agreement.
Steve didn't respond again, but Tony heard signs of a fight in the background. He couldn't spare it much thought though as blasts continued to rain down on the stage and he had to focus on keeping reporters from getting themselves killed.
"There has to be another shooter!" he shouted as he picked up a well-dressed man by the back of his jacket and hauled him toward the wings of the stage. There was no way the blasts were this regular, if Steve was fighting what he had said was the lone shooter.
Just then, JARVIS honed in on the origin of the second set of blasts; they were being fired from the business across the street from the original data point, and had only started once the original had stopped.
"I got it," Sam said and not long after, he was soaring through the air with the new set of wings Tony had designed. "Stark, you stay with the First Family."
There were two sets of fighting sounds now, but thankfully, the blasts had stopped.
"There's no one here," Sam reported. "Gun was firing by itself." There was a creak then a moment later, he added, "Apartment is empty and no one in any direction."
"Lock it down, then get back to the lawn," Fury ordered. "I'll send the techs up in a minute."
By this time, the lawn had just been cleared of its final occupant. Tony was about to follow security into the White House when he heard a loud thud over the comms.
"Check in!" he demanded, and Natasha, Clint, Barnes and Sam quickly did. The Hulk was still standing as a wall in front of the stage, which just left Steve.
"Get me his location," Barnes snapped and Tony didn't have to look up to know the former Soldier was sprinting off the lawn.
"Report, Steve!" Clint shouted so loudly that JARVIS lowered the volume on Tony's comm.
"Still here," Steve finally said, though his voice was thin and he sounded winded. "Could use some backup." Then the fight must have resumed, since all Steve's comm continued to transmit were grunts, crashes, and gasps.
"Go Stark," Fury said, just as Tony saw police cars and more SHIELD agents approaching. "We can handle it from here."
Tony motioned for an extra set of guards to take his place on the side of the ruined stage then took off. "JARVIS, track Steve's location."
"35th floor," Steve grunted out between what sounded like a combination of blows.
Tony had just reached the block JARVIS had highlighted on the HUD, when Steve cried out. Then a large mass thudded to the ground over the comms, and Tony's blood ran cold.
"Steve!" Clint shouted again, but this time received only muffled gasping in response.
Tony ducked his head to cut down on resistance and poured on speed. In the HUD, JARVIS was highlighting the window of the 35th floor, but Tony didn't need the assist. He saw the tip of a weapon sticking out of a small opening in the window and crashed through above it, taking the impact with his crossed forearms.
Steve was crumpled on the floor on the far side of the room, his hands clamped around his leg. A man loomed over him, holding a wicked looking staff, whose corkscrew tip was dripping blood and was poised to deliver a final blow.
Tony fired both repulsors, sending the man crashing into the far wall. He heard an unpleasant crunch, and spared a second to make sure the man wasn't moving before he turned to Steve, who had gone a frightening shade of pale. His eyes were wide and unfocused and his mouth was struggling to form words.
"Scan," Tony ordered JARVIS.
"Got… th' artery," Steve sputtered as his gaze finally locked on to Tony's, and Tony's heart sank as he saw the edges of panic in Steve's normally stoic expression.
"I have to agree with Captain Rogers," JARVIS stated.
"What do I do?" Tony shouted as he leaned over and pressed his hands on top of Steve's, eliciting a groan from the soldier.
"Tourniquet, pressure bandage," JARVIS continued to list things Tony didn't have around.
"Other options."
"Cauterize," Steve gasped.
Tony's stomach rolled at the suggestion. He'd accidentally burned himself many a time with his repulsors on low, and knew how painful that was. He'd almost certainly need a blast of higher strength to knit Steve's skin together, which would inflict a horrific amount of pain.
"Other options," he repeated.
"None," Steve managed, at the same time JARVIS reported that Steve was going into shock.
God damn it.
Stats rolled on the HUD, eventually narrowing to just one percentage, which grew in size and flashed in Tony's eye line. "A blast of that strength should close the wound, without doing excessive damage to the surrounding tissue."
Should. They were banking a whole helluva lot on should.
"Do it," Steve said, unevenly.
Tony wanted to do anything but that, but they were out of time and viable options. By JARVIS' calculation, Steve had already lost a liter and a half of blood.
"J, calibrate." Hopefully, the blast would overload Steve's pain receptors and knock him out, thus sparing him additional agony until he could get the good drugs at the hospital. "On three, Steve, move your hands."
Steve nodded, then to Tony's horror went slack. Tony slammed down his hands harder against Steve's lifeless ones, pinning them in place. "Calibrate faster, J!"
"Calibration complete," JARVIS reported five agonizingly long seconds later.
Tony shoved Steve's hands out of the way, took one second to locate the epicenter of the large, spurting gash in Steve's right leg, then pushed the center of the repulsors against it.
"Fire, J."
Tony heard the sound of Steve's skin sizzling and was never more thankful for the private air supply in his suit. He just moved his hand up a few inches and gave the order to fire again. After the third time, he pulled his blood-soaked repulsor away and took a look at the damage. The skin that had been in contact with the repulsor was blistering red and angry, and there were small flecks of blue in the wound, presumably from Steve's pants, but it was no longer bleeding.
Tony retracted one of his gauntlets and felt at Steve's neck for a pulse. It was slightly uneven, but present.
"Get medical over here," he ordered in a thick voice. Then he turned his back to Steve, opened the face plate of the suit, and retched.