Archive of Our Own

sleeves stained red

So tell me what you want to hear
Something that will light those ears
I'm sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time
Don't need another perfect lie
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away

— Secrets, by OneRepublic

~~~

Natasha Romanova prided herself on two things above all else: her unflappability and her ability to manipulate people, which was, of course, based on her ability to read them.

Thus, when Tony Stark introduced the Rogue Avengers to one Peter Parker, aka Spiderman, she successfully hid her surprise at discovering the vigilante was an inexperienced teenager and immediately set to studying the young man, even as she absorbed the somewhat sparse information Stark grudgingly provided. It was obvious even to Steve that he didn’t trust them and he sure as hell didn’t like them knowing about the kid’s connection to him, though his scathing rebuke to Ste—well, the entire team’s reaction to learning Peter’s age had been one for the record books.

Not that Romanova appreciated being lectured by Man-Child Stark, of all people, but she was willing to admit that it had been both brutal and effective. He’d kept Steve from going off on one of his self-righteous lectures and, frankly, that was something she’d thought was impossible. What was more astonishing than that, however, was her response. Somewhere in the middle of his blistering takedown of the team in general and Steve in particular, Romanova had actually felt vague stirrings of guilt. It was partly due to the fact that yet again, without knowing a single thing about the situation, every member of Steve’s side — including her — had jumped down Stark’s throat with recriminations and accusations and disappointment and — well, the usual behavior from them when it came to him.

But this time, he fought back. He was vicious, full of facts that were so well-supported even Clint was cowed, reasons that were both logical and precise, and had backup in the form of James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, and May Parker.

So when Pepper had acidly demanded why the Rogues were only blaming and accusing Tony instead of any of them, who had also all known and were fine with it . . . suffice to say, the ensuing silence was awkward.

And it got more embarrassing by the second, because Steve (and Barton, who had to be forcefully prevented from speaking by a ticked-off Wilson) badly wanted to say ‘because it’s Tony and he screws up everything he does’, but that would impugn the characters of two people who loathed them and a third they knew only as Spiderman’s aunt, who was also highly contemptuous of them.

More importantly, it would make Steve look bad, something he would do almost anything to prevent.

But watching the young man’s opinion change had shaken her. She’d seen the hastily-hidden awe in his eyes when he was first introduced to the team and had to bite back a smile; he was so young and so eager and so malleable. If she did her job right, which she always did, she would easily be able to entice the boy and his loyalty to her.

Then she saw that awe shatter like spun sugar as Steve’s team, led by the man himself, started in on Stark. It was replaced by disbelief, but that quickly deepened to a black rage that looked very strange on his young, unlined face. He never spoke a word in his own defense, rightly knowing that none of the Rogues would listen to him, but his solid stance at Stark’s shoulder, even in front of Rhodes, was both shocking and informative, as was the fact that it took less than ten words for him to openly prepare to fire some kind of weapon at them all if they continued to berate Stark.

But the guilt came, strongly underscored by shock, when not one single adult on Stark’s side attempted to stop him.

For the first time in two decades, maybe more, Natasha Romanova felt a few vestiges of actual shame, because a literal child was standing in front of her and judging her actions, her team’s actions . . . and had blatantly found her and them wanting. It was jarring to be sneered at by a teenager who had no real life experience and shouldn’t have had the knowledge of what they’d done to Stark, much less a true understanding. But he clearly did, and just as clearly despised them. And their impulsive, kneejerk response to Stark’s revelation had only worsened his opinion.

“Enough!” Stark snapped, shouldering out of Rhodes’ grip and stepping back until he was at Parker’s side. They looked startlingly similar all at once, down to the contemptuous fury twisting their faces, and Romanova had to fight to keep her own expression neutral in the wake of her sudden suspicion that the pair was related. Then Stark continued and her attention firmly redirected to the challenge the man-child unwittingly gave her.

“For the sake of honesty, you know who Spiderman is. That’s all you get. He and Peter Parker are off-limits,” he informed them, his eyes hard and unyielding as he looked each member of the Rogues dead in the eyes. “That means you don’t go looking for information on him. You don’t stalk him, follow him, track him, figure out his patterns and beat him there. You don’t even think about him. This is not a suggestion. You break this rule and your asses go directly to prison. Pardons revoked, Accords contracts voided, every single charge you’ve managed to worm your way out of brought down on you like a hammer. And I’m not Thor. There won’t be a magical lightning show. There will be blood and bruises and broken bones and it will hurt.”

He stopped and raked all four of them with another angry, contemptuous gaze, and even Steve winced. It was faint, almost undetectable, but Stark saw it and vicious satisfaction lit his eyes for a split second before he blinked and the contempt was back, underpinned with a complete and total lack of trust and an even deeper lack of care or concern for them on any level.

“For the official record, you are each going to verbally agree: you know everything about Peter Parker and Spiderman that you need and are permitted to know, unless he himself tells you something. You will not try to discover anything else, by any method, or the consequences will be severe and permanent. Do you understand?”

Steve’s jaw was so tightly clenched, he’d probably cracked a tooth, but he managed a single nod. When Tony arched an impatient eyebrow, Steve heaved a huge sigh that made Clint cringe a little, but he sullenly complied with the silent demand and huffed, “Fine. We won’t try to find out anything else about Peter.”

Both eyebrows jumped up this time, but Stark turned to the boy, an open question on his face, and he got a nod after several seconds. With Steve’s word apparently accepted, Stark turned to the rest of them and silently demanded the same agreement and reassurance, which they all gave with varying levels of attitude. None of them liked being boxed in like this, but for the moment, Stark and the UN had them over a barrel and they all knew it, so there was no choice but to play nice.

So that was that: the Rogue Avengers, newly pardoned and with their movements so restricted, they were one step away from having to schedule their bathroom breaks, agreed of their own free will, on audio and video recordings and in front of multiple witnesses, that they would leave Peter Parker, aka Spiderman, alone.

They kept their word for a record-setting three weeks.

Surprisingly, given Romanova’s bone-deep need to know everything about everyone, Rogers broke first. Realizing that a teenager not only didn’t revere him or want to be him, but in fact actively despised him, was a reality the man had never experienced before and it had driven him crazy. He simply could not fathom that the boy’s opinion was the direct result of his own actions and not from the lies Stark had surely told him. But after three straight weeks of avoidance, cold shoulders, being blatantly ignored, and given icy, careless disrespect on the rare occasions when Peter couldn’t escape, Rogers snapped.

He easily convinced himself that the hate and disrespect and contempt were because of Tony and if he could just find out who and what Peter really was, he’d be able to sway the boy to his side. After all, Stark was nothing but flash and show, without any substance, but Peter had no way of knowing that since Steve and his team had been forced into hiding for so long. So: if he could connect with the kid on a personal level and use that to earn his trust, swaying his loyalty away from Stark would be child’s play.

Therefore, he set Romanova to look up Peter’s records, fully expecting to have answers within the hour.

For the record, she made not a word or gesture of refusal.

It was hard to say who was more surprised, Rogers or Romanova, when she discovered exactly nothing. Someone had scrubbed Peter Parker from any and all public domains, leaving only his name and a listing of schools he’d attended behind. And despite her boasting, the Famed Black Widow was unable to un-scrub a single detail, which profoundly irritated her. But after a solid day of trying and failing to dig anything up on the kid through her regular channels, she was forced to admit defeat and instead recruited Barton to help her follow Peter and see what they could find out.

All four of them (Wilson didn’t truly get curious until they realized that Parker had been both deliberately and thoroughly turned into a ghost) were expecting to discover a goldmine of information on the first day of following him, so the abject failure of both spies came as a huge shock. They could track Spiderman to something he was handling, but once whatever it was had been taken care of, the young man disappeared and left no trace of himself, nothing for the arrogant spies to track. After two days of that unmitigated, infuriating failure, even with Wilson’s addition, Romanova spent an hour in the gym with her throwing knives, then huffed and gingerly tested her old clearance codes, not expecting much but trying anyway, just in case Stark had forgotten to revoke her access (or, more likely, left it intact in a pitiful attempt to get back in her good graces).

In reality, she had truly thought Stark was that soft and sentimental, so slamming into that brick wall was a much harder pill to swallow. She did, though it was like choking down a razor blade, because she refused to allow Man-Child Stark to make her lose her temper, and went on to her next prepared move: deploying the hacking worm Fury had given her so long ago, specifically designed by SHIELD’s best for the sole purpose of breaching Stark’s firewalls and breaking his encryption.

She felt the first tendrils of genuine anger unfurl through her as she watched the USB drive actually begin smoking as it completely, totally failed to even make a dent in Stark’s system.

The man-child wanted to play in the big leagues, did he?

So be it.

She’d never been able to get her hands on Stark’s login info, or Pepper Potts’, but James Rhodes had a history of choosing weak passwords for his SI access, so it was the work of a moment to remember his username and hack his password.

Once there, it took a Herculean amount of effort to keep from wandering around the technological riches that comprised SI’s military-contracted equipment, with so many treasures and secrets just there to steal, both for Fury and herself, but if she didn’t get Parker’s info first, Steve was going to throw an actual tantrum . . . and he destroyed entire rooms when he got to that point. Since they were all sharing one floor now — meaning one kitchen, one common living room, and one bathroom (and wasn’t that fun, damn Stark’s ego and pettiness to hell), she had no desire to go without a TV, computer, or toaster just because Captain American couldn’t handle being disliked by a teenager he personally knew.

Okay, the kid hated him. But still: Steve’s ego demanded that he would change the kid’s mind or he would destroy something out of sheer spite.

On top of that, Romanova wasn’t stupid. She would need to plan more thoroughly and have a lot more time before risking a deeper search through Stark’s servers. She was better, but he was good (which even now grated on her to admit), so she inserted the USB drive, copied Parker’s file to it, and left as undetected as she’d arrived. The whole process took less than two minutes.

Four minutes later, she was back in the Avengers’ common room and plugging the drive into the single laptop Stark allowed them to have (which was a great deal more infuriating than acknowledging his computer skills, but even more aggravating and inconvenient than four people sharing a single bathroom, especially because it was a Dell) while Steve, Sam, and Clint crowded together as they eagerly looked over her shoulder. The tension was thick enough that a feather would shatter it.

She took a deep breath and double-clicked on the file and a dozen folders spread out before her. Thankfully, none of the folder names had been subjected to Stark’s demented idea of a good acronym or a clever pun, so she opened the one labeled ‘personal info’.

And stared, dumbfounded, at the exact same information that was available in the public sphere: Peter Parker’s name and a list of schools he’d attended.

Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, she backed out of that folder and went to one named ‘associates’.

Parker's name and the list of schools he'd attended.

Every single folder was the same.

This . . . was nothing but a dummy file.

A trap.

But was it set specifically for her or was it generic?

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed, making them all start in surprise, immediately followed by the TV flickering on (they would later discover that sound disguised the door being locked). The image was grainy for a few seconds, but then it blinked and suddenly, clear as day, was . . . a page from Romanova’s SHIELD file.

The one she'd digitally erased prior to dumping all of HYDRA and SHIELD’s files online and then physically destroyed the next day.

This file should not exist.

But she recognized the Red Room’s hidden watermark, and that coffee stain couldn’t be duplicated. Somehow, impossibly, this was her file. Her personal file.

Her hidden shame.

What the hell was going on?!

“Natalia Aliaovna Romanoff. Born to young, idalistic parents. Willingly surrendered to a church at the age of eight months old because — this is a direct quote — ‘her eyes have no soul. No warmth. Please, Father, if there’s a demon, exorcise it out of her. And if there’s not, let God have mercy on us all’.”

She didn’t recognize the disembodied Voice echoing through the room but she also didn’t care. Because the image on the screen changed to that of a handwritten note containing the exact sentences The Voice had uttered, a secret only she and the priest who found her should have known because she had located and destroyed every single trace and hint of her origins.

HOW WAS THIS POSSIBLE?!

Ignoring her shock (and her fear and the stunning amount of hurt), The Voice kept talking.

“Adopted three years later by the only family ever interested. Six attempts to return the child were refused. Sold to the Red Room in 1989 for the paltry sum of ₽2000 with the assurance that her adoptive family would not be required to take her back at any point in time, regardless of any circumstances.”

Another page replaced the note from her birth parents. This was a copy of a standard Red Room contract for parents willingly giving up a child, with her adoptive parents’ request handwritten at the bottom of the ‘terms’ section.

They’d sold Natalia into slavery. Their other adopted daughter, Ylena, had been stolen a year later.

(Romanova sometimes wondered which of them ended up worse off)

Two new pages came up on the screen, side-by-side and remarkably clear and readable for their age.

“Red Room analysis: no exceptional abilities exhibited, other than a complete lack of concern, care, or empathy toward anyone but herself, and a survival instinct so strong, it is shocking. That depth of sociopathy had rarely been seen in one so young; it was understandable why the birth parents thought the child had no soul. No great intelligence accompanied the survival drive, so she was given standard training. Earned standard marks and grades, with the exception of manipulation. She was given high marks for her ability to steal and seduce, both sexual and not, but displayed a total inability to learn anything outside of that particular exploitation tactic. No leadership skills exhibited at all, and no personal charisma was ever seen, nor was there any attempt to earn loyalty from any of her fellow trainees, or even bonding through commiseration of their shared circumstances. This complete isolation, willingly chosen on her part, prevented her inclusion in a Widow’s Web, a specialized group sent on the most difficult and challenging assignments where teamwork is essential. She did, however, use her exploitation skills to trick four of the others into walking into deadly traps. It was disappointing to lose so many promising girls, but since they were unable to discern the manipulations and traps for what they were, death was a reasonable price to pay.”

A short pause ensued, punctuated only by Romanova’s harsh, but controlled, deep breathing and Wilson’s irritating whistle-snort breaths.

“She is utterly ruthless, frequently sabotaging her fellow trainees if not outright killing them. In addition, despite her well-documented mediocrity, she possesses an immense ego and one wonders how her opinion of herself is so high, given she was willingly abandoned by two different families and has excelled at nothing, not even the only true skill she possesses. She genuinely believes that she surpasses Dotty Underwood, who is the openly acknowledged greatest of our Black Widows, and even she failed in her mission to reel in Howard Stark. The contradiction is baffling, but the traits themselves are useful, as it makes manipulating her fairly easy once one is properly versed in the best technique, and her genuine belief in her own non-existent superiority does the rest. To our surprise and disappointment, she claimed the title of Black Widow by lacing the branches of the fire for a final night training exercise with copper and arsenic salt, then left the remaining group of five girls to suffocate from breathing in the toxic mixture while she abandoned them to their deaths, using the pretext of ensuring their trail had been cleared and couldn’t be tracked. Her status as sole survivor of her class left us no choice but to grant her the title of Black Widow, though it was done with great reluctance, as she was not only in the bottom four out of a class of twenty, but there were three highly promising candidates who were much more deserving but did not survive because they did not recognize our own manipulation tactics being used against them.”

Another pause ensued, and Clint put a careful hand on her upper arm as she glared with furious eyes and a dead heart at the documents on the screen. Her entire past, a past she had destroyed herself, was being displayed for the world to see, exposing her life and her secrets like they were nothing but anecdotes at a bad party.

Nobody spoke. They didn’t even dare to breathe deeply, lest the sound shatter the tense silence.

“As a Black Widow for Russia, she proved adequate,” that disembodied, cowardly Voice continued. She shuddered, hatred pouring through her veins like acid. “It was very quickly understood that she could not be given high-profile assignments, as her ego and false sense of superiority would cause her to go off-script if there was so much as a hint of competition or, more likely, she was trying to prove she was better than her reputation suggested. Then she was caught by Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD, while failing to complete a minor mission in the US — but, showing a remarkable lapse in judgement, Carter thought there was something worth salvaging in her, something that could be extraordinary if it was properly nurtured. So she struck a deal with us: a willing transfer of the Black Widow, Natalia Romanoff, her citizenship, and her complete history and records, and a cessation of all Russian activities on US soil for two years in exchange for those same two years of passive surveillance of our intelligence industry from SHIELD. That was the single best deal ever brokered in the history of Russia. We foisted off a mostly-useless asset on one of our worst enemies and had two years to achieve goals, set plans in motion, and accomplish things that would never have been possible otherwise.”

Another pause, broken only by Sam’s startled choked gasp.

Steve took a deep breath.

Clint’s fingers tightened.

Romanova didn’t blink.

“Carter’s anger when she discovered the true nature of the bargain she herself had made was priceless — especially because she couldn’t claim she was duped. She saw something that wasn’t there, but we were under no obligation to inform her of the truth, and why would we? As such, we firmly and legally refused to accept the renamed Natasha Romanova back to Russia, never mind the Red Room program.”

Yet another pause, where Romanova breathed deeply and slowly while Clint muttered dark curses and threats under his breath and Steve and Sam stood there uselessly, unable to process what they were hearing because it was the diametric opposite of what they believed, partly since it was what they’d been told and partly since they wanted to think the best of Nat.

“So, unable to send her back to Russia and unwilling to kill her just for being mediocre, Carter flagged her file and ensured all future missions were strictly seduce and either retrieve or kill. When he became SHIELD’s director, Fury kept the routine going and she was, by all accounts, successful as such things are considered. Then he made one of the most foolish, ill-thought-out mistakes in the history of the world: after being so firmly — and unexpectedly to him; certainly no one else was surprised — snubbed by Stark after his flat refusal to play SHIELD’s ridiculously transparent and overly heavy-handed games about both Iron Man and Stane, his ego demanded that he punish Stark for the crime of thinking and acting for himself. So, instead of earning goodwill and the beginnings of trust by advising the man that SHIELD had a strong potential cure, or at least treatment, for the Palladium poisoning, he elected to send the Black Widow to seduce Stark and infiltrate his company, retrieving him for SHIELD if she could manipulate him well enough and killing him if he proved intransigent.”

Pause.

silence

“He chose her because he knew Stark’s personal taste in women ran to strong-willed, attractive redheads, but also because he was dying of heavy metal poisoning, which strongly diminishes a person’s mental capacities. And, since her only exceptional skill is her ability to seduce men who are susceptible to her particular . . . charms . . . it was assumed that the assignment was a lock. She would at the very least make Stark believe they had slept together and use his subsequent infatuation to get SHIELD’s hooks into his easily-accessible bank accounts. Ideally, she would become a long-term asset for him, which would allow SHIELD to infect Stark Industries from the top down so they could steal whatever they liked right under his nose.”

Pause.

silence

“Instead, the Black Widow, famed only for her manipulative seduction skills and her ability to kill with no trace, failed to gain the attention of a man who was not only dying, but whose mental faculties were severely compromised and whose emotional stability was nonexistent because of the poison flooding his body. To the contrary, he used her to make another woman jealous. Her failure meant she could not establish any trust, either with Stark or his close circle; she couldn’t even find a true weakness or careless mistake to exploit because a mentally-poisoned Tony Stark is still smarter than the majority of the population — and his paranoia and security measures are second to none. Unable to deal with her failure, Romanova stupidly allowed her ego to take over and obeyed Fury’s equally idiotic order to drug one of the most powerful men in the world without his knowledge or consent while bragging about her superiority, and was somehow stunned and outraged when, after everything was over and he could think clearly again, Stark bodily picked her up using the Iron Man armor and dropped her into the Hudson River. Naked. At midnight.”

This pause was loaded, if an unseen, disembodied mechanical Voice can convey such an emotion, and the sound of the clock ticking was suddenly very loud.

“The truly hilarious part of the whole failed mission is that she truly believes her own lies. The ‘assessment’ she did on Stark is pure fiction, her way of punishing him for bruising her ego and making her look as foolish and incompetent as she is. Fury knew better, but he allowed it stand because he was desperate for a compliant Tony Stark and, despite knowing his own actions damaged his first chance of gaining that cooperation willingly, continued with the same brutish tactics, because Fury is just as egotistical as Romanova and knows it. He just doesn’t care. But in their joint hubris, starting with giving said ‘profile’ to Rogers, Barton, and Banner in an effort to turn them against Stark before any of them met him, they cost themselves so much and it ultimately led to their destruction.”

Pause.

silence

“Of course, according to the FBI’s interviews with Stark, Potts, and Hogan after the Expo, Romanova gave herself away at the beginning, but they decided it was better to deal with the devil they’d already identified. They simply underestimated the depths to which she would sink to achieve her goals.”

SILENCE.

Silence.

silence.

“Then, of course, we have the absolute stupidity that was Romanova deciding that the only way to scrub her past and destroy the institution who had made a fool of her for years was to drop the entirety of their files — minus hers, of course — on the ‘net. Her ‘interview’ on the Hill later provided the true reason for her decision to start WWIII, and it is exactly what is to be expected from her: since her skills were unequal to the task of separating HYDRA from SHIELD, she decided it couldn’t be done, so a scorched earthed strategy was the only option. The fact that Tony Stark, Reed Richards, or even Victor von Doom could have performed the task with relative ease was likely never even a consideration for her, given her enormous, but equally fragile, ego — not to mention her unjustified contempt for Stark, and possibly the others, as she is highly dismissive of men on general principle. The death, ruination, and destruction she caused for no reason other than her refusal to admit that there are people who are better than her is incalculable and the ripple effects will last for a least a decade. And in her hubris and arrogance, she actually believes that she successfully completed the mission and destroyed the rot of the HYDRA infection, when in fact, she did more to further their cause than they had managed in nearly a century of organized existence.”

silence.

Silence.

SILENCE.

Romanova had turned into a statue.

Her teammates were doing their best to become one with the wall.

They failed.

The Voice was merciless when it shattered that deceptive peace.

“And of course, there’s the discovery, learned alongside Steve Rogers, that HYDRA assassinated Howard and Maria Stark. It was carried out by the Winter Soldier, formerly known as James Buchannan Barnes, which she promptly decided to keep to herself and encouraged Rogers to do the same — though she didn’t need to waste the effort. Rogers had already made the same decision. Even disregarding the cruelty, her strategic reasoning is both simplistic and stupid, yet perfectly in line with her personality: instead of using the opportunity to gain a modicum of his trust by telling him — something that would require showing him basic courtesy and human decency, which she neither possesses nor feels he deserves — she believed that by keeping the information to herself, she held the ultimate ‘get out of jail free’ card, which she would play when gaslighting and manipulating Stark stopped being effective. Once again, she is too arrogant and overconfident to realize this will fail epically should she be foolish enough to try, because the Tony Stark she so badly wants to believe is real is, in fact, nothing but a construct of her own mind, created by her desperate need to feel more important and more skilled and just better than one of the most powerful, influential, important people on the planet. She also refuses to understand that her silence will have repercussions that will ultimately destroy her, not Stark, because he does not take betrayal lightly. And he will see this is as a betrayal.”

Silence.

SILENCE.

silence.

“Well. How unsurprising,” The Voice drawled, and Nat hissed almost silently in response, pulling a knife in clear blind instinct. She and it were ignored in favor of their tormentor continuing with his malicious, hateful, self-imposed mission. “Oh, and here’s another little gem: Romanova is so shortsighted, so arrogant, and so egotistical that she genuinely thinks she escaped punishment for her role in the data dump because — as she bragged at the end of her hearing, which Rogers didn’t even bother to attend — she is too important to the world to arrest, even though the world — the actual, literal world — was teetering on the brink of war due solely to her and her foolish actions. It has not occurred to her, nor will it, that she escaped being arrested as an accomplice to treason, since she is not a US citizen herself, partly because Stark was able to recover more than 80% of the downloaded data files and rescue or recover almost 60% of the agents she and Rogers burned without a single thought between them, but mostly because the US government could not risk letting the world know that so much damage was done by the moronic — that’s a direct quote from SecDef — actions of a single useless Russian honeypot. And of course, there is no point in telling her this, as she will simply scoff and sneer and saunter off, secure in the knowledge that she is the best in her world and has never made a single mistake and these pitiful people are just trying to blame their failures on her.”

SILENCE.

SILENCE.

SILENCE.

It was again broken by The Voice they would all sell their souls to shut up. “So that’s pretty self-explanatory and it does explain a lot, doesn’t it, Black Widow?”

The sheer condescension in the words, though not the tone, had Barton reaching for a knife, Steve tsking in disapproval, and Nat glaring a hole through the ceiling. Sam just felt numb and vaguely sick.

It wasn't over.

“Next we ha—oh, hey, here’s a — oh, that’s mean. And . . . graphic. But it seems you get around, Ms. Romanova. Did you know that there’s a website dedicated to ranking your skills in the — well, um. Bedroom?”

The hesitations and stutters from that hated Voice gave away the speaker’s youth (which meant it couldn’t be Stark, damn him to hell), but it was ignored in the face what had just been revealed — onscreen, because of course. And naturally, the asshole kept talking, because whoever was doing this had no respect for privacy.

For that alone, the Black Widow was going to kill him.

“It was created a decade ago by . . . huh. Did a good job at hiding his real name, but not good enough. Someone named Alexi Sharapovin started the site after three of his friends described their experiences with you. Different names, of course, but the same face, so he used a picture to verify you instead of a name. So far, it’s gotten 23—no, 28, sorry — reviews. The ranking system is seven bullet points, with a 5-star rating option. Your overall score is . . . oh. Wow. That’s — ouch. Your current ranking is a half-star.”

The website, obviously pulled up live and real-time, verified those words with a cold indifference that Romanova envied. After all, it was simply fulfilling its purpose. It had no idea that it was destroying the reputation of a woman to whom reputation was everything.

This silence was short and one could almost see the speaker grimacing with disgust and somehow, that was the most insulting thing that had happened during this entire farce.

“I gotta say, that seems really odd for someone whose only acknowledged skill is manipulating and seducing men. But — I mean, why would all of them lie? It’s an anonymous site for most people, so . . . well, I mean, it stands to reason they’d tell the truth. That’s — that’s kinda sad. I’m almost sorry for you, except that from these comments, you brought it on yourself. And it fits with your personality.”

The speaker paused again and Romanova tensed despite herself. The Voice had changed during those last two sentences, had gone from sympathetic disgust to pragmatic statement of facts. She couldn’t say why, but a shiver worked its way down her spine and she knew that what The Voice said next would seal her fate, at least among her teammates. None of them would trust her or even take her seriously again. Her entire reputation had been destroyed — and by a coward who was too weak and afraid to show his face.

“To sum up: Natasha Romanova, born Natalia Romanoff, is mediocre at best, paired with an ego that is incapable of recognizing her failings and shortcomings. She genuinely believes she is superior at everything she does — including outperforming Nick Fury at ferreting out secrets and carrying out multi-level plans, being better at weapons and martial arts than anyone else, including acknowledged grand masters, and surpassing geniuses such as Reed Richards and Tony Stark in the areas of computer science, technology, and hacking. The fact that she can only achieve such results on a computer is with the use of a worm program that SHIELD specifically designed for Stark’s systems is justified in her mind and verified in her reports by the fact that she and her time are ‘too valuable’ to waste in doing the actual work. That this is demonstrably incorrect is simply ignored as it speaks to a truth she does not wish to acknowledge and that SHIELD sees no need to correct, as the false respect strokes her ego and is another way to keep her under their control.”

Silence.

“Final analysis: Black Widow, average. Natasha Romanova: unimportant.”

The silence shattered.

Clint exploded behind her, raging and promising an impressively hideous death to whoever had just exposed every one of Natasha Romanova’s secrets. Steve sighed and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and it took considerable effort to keep from removing it with the knife she was still holding. Sam, who wasn’t nearly as unobservant as Steve, despite being his biggest and worst enabler, saw her controlled reaction and stayed where he was, keeping his mouth shut.

Truthfully, what could he say?

Then that damned Voice started talking again and everyone cringed. Even Romanova.

“Clint Barton: SHIELD agent. Extremely possessive of his signature ability: archery. Skilled sniper. Highly proficient with knives. Reacts poorly to any legitimate challenges to his superiority in those areas and resorts to violence when he is outperformed. SHIELD agents working or training with him are instructed to pull back on their abilities when/if it becomes necessary, to allow him the illusion of being the best. Seduced and retrieved by Agent Romanova by way of a knife-throwing contest that ended in a stalemate. His subsequent infatuation and strong loyalty to her, brought about because she matched him in a skill in which he is widely acknowledged to be among the best in the world while failing to show the same accuracy with a gun and no skills with a bow and arrow, laid the foundation for a decent partnership, something the Black Widow had thus far proven unable to do. Oh, hey, a footnote!” The Voice suddenly exclaimed. The shift from emotionless recitation to animated made them all cringe from a sudden, nameless fear.

That disembodied but still excited tone was very jarring and everyone flinched again. “Note: neither Barton nor Romanova can learn that she was carrying weighted, rigged knives on that mission. In the normal course of events, her skills are no match for his, but he would not have given SHIELD a chance had he defeated her and her ego could not handle the knowledge that someone is better with a weapon she prefers. Huh.”

Both spies went completely still and absolutely stone-faced. Sam and Steve turned away to give what little privacy they could and Sam winced as those last words echoed in his mind.

This was cruel and spiteful and just plain petty . . . and after seeing a website designed solely to humiliate Nat, he was terrified of what secrets of his were going to be revealed. Not that he had any secrets, mind, but he wouldn’t it past Stark (because who else could it be?) to just make something up in his quest for revenge.

“There’s that ego again. Oh, well. Moving on,” the anonymous Voice chirped. That earned the ceiling at large a murderous glare from Clint and a disapproving frown from Steve (like that was going to be effective). Still, no one spoke. They’d all learned it wouldn’t do anything, so despite their best efforts, everyone’s gaze was drawn back to the giant screen, where a new pair of documents had replaced Romanova’s shame and downfall.

“Barton does not think on his own and he has no desire to. He is perfectly content with being told where to aim and fire. He strongly resents people with material wealth, especially those who earned it on their own, a direct result of having grown up in abject, nomadic poverty, and he does not work well with them on the rare occasions it’s necessary. He is equally resentful of high intelligence and so-called book smarts and tends to be contemptuous of any and all non-combatants. This is attributed to his childhood as an uneducated, illiterate carnival rat who watched his older brother get schooling he was denied due to a lack of both intellectual intelligence and the desire to learn — which makes his marriage most puzzling, because despite being placid and unassuming, which is the only kind of romantic partner his personality type can and will tolerate, she is also strikingly intelligent. That being said, none of the children are his, though we have been unable to determine if they are adopted or simply fathered by someone else, as he was not present for any of their births, nor has he spent enough time with the woman to reliably have a chance to ensure conception.”

This pause was fraught with tension and disapproval somehow radiated from the speaker in spite of his absence from the room.

Clint was so enraged, he was actually frothing a little at the mouth.

After a very, very long few minutes, in which a feather would have doubled as an atomic bomb, they heard The Voice take several deep breaths before he continued to spill everyone’s secrets across the floor, blithely careless in his destruction of their lives.

“But even in his so-called ‘home life’, Barton sees his wife and children as nothing but an extension of him. He is seldom at their location but when he is, he either half-heartedly dabbles in ‘chores’ or insists on an outing, usually somewhere like a state park or, at the very least, outdoors and off the grid, regardless of what anyone else would like to do. He will sometimes teaches the eldest boy some of the tricks and skills he himself learned as a child, but the majority of his time is spent in solitude, either practicing his archery or simply hiding away in a small glen on the edge of the property. He is dismissive of the girl and pays no attention to the younger boy, who is too young to interact with. These facts and established personality traits also make his decision to ‘retire’ somewhat puzzling, though there is strong speculation he did so in order to escape Wanda Maximoff’s influence. This is only speculation, however; there is no evidence either way and Barton himself has never provided a reason, though the fact that he abandoned his ‘family’ the second Steve Rogers called with what even Barton acknowledges is a feeble excuse and flimsy reasoning to ‘rescue’ the witch invites further curiosity. Those are the only anomalies in his file, but ultimately, he isn’t important enough as an individual to research further. His ‘family’ had zero impact on his job as an agent of SHIELD and he had left the agency before the time of the so-called ‘Avengers Civil War’. In essence, Clint Barton is an accomplished sniper, but other than his skill at and preference for archery, he is neither unique nor particularly valuable. Final assessment: Hawkeye, standard recommendation and rotation with other agents. Clint Barton: irrelevant.”

Everyone tensed as they waited for Barton’s next venom-filled, profanity-laced outburst.

It was awkward when they realized he wasn’t going to speak, though an explosion did appear imminent. However, despite the scathing assessment they'd just seen and heard, Barton did have discipline, and he knew there was no reason to explode at a Voice.

He’d just kill whoever it was when or if the asshole finally showed himself.

“Steve Rogers. Y—wow. Wow. There’s a lot of records and notes from when you were a kid. Huh. It’s almost like someone saw the future and wanted to make sure the truth wasn’t lost while they waited for it arrive.”

. . . okay, that was ominous.

And a lot more unnerving than it should have been.

When a yellowing but still meticulously preserved picture of what was clearly an old school record came up on the screen, the air went eerily still. It was almost like the world itself was holding its breath, which was ridiculous and yet, also, accurate. Sam took a discreet glance around the room and saw that Barton’s jaw was still clenched so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t cracked a few teeth, Nat was sitting perfectly still but her eyes were blazing with the promise of death, and Steve . . .

Steve had broken out of his stupor and was stalking toward the screen. His fists were clenched and his chest was heaving from the force of his rage and not a single one of them even thought about stopping him.

When his fist slammed into the TV, they all cringed, fully expecting it to shatter — and, truthfully, relishing the prospect.

Seeing him get knocked on his ass a good ten feet away, accompanied by a shower of blue and orange sparks, shocked them all more than a little.

It also told them that Stark had learned from his previous interactions with Steve and would no longer allow him to destroy his expensive, high-quality things when he lost control of his temper.

(it was very telling that despite this realization, not a single member of ‘Team Cap’ actually registered the fact that Rogers threw tantrums and destroyed other people’s stuff when he lost his temper outside of a battle)

Furious and humiliated, a red-faced Steve got up and went straight for the TV again, eyes bright with his determination to stop this. Nobody tried to stop him, knowing that it was futile, but all three of them quickly hustled behind the couch so they could hunker down and avoid the debris, should he be successful.

He was not.

This time, he was thrown to the other side of the room and left an actual dent in the wall when he slammed against it. A deep, loud sigh came from the speakers, followed by an annoyed, “Look, Rogers, as entertaining as this is, some of us actually have work to do. You aren’t going to punch the TV into submission and if you try again, the charge will send you to Medbay and it’ll take at least three days before you stop twitching and drooling on yourself. Well, no, actually, it’ll be a hospital, because everyone on staff here has not only flatly refused to treat any of you, they had it written into their employment contracts that they could not be forced to unless actual death is demonstrably imminent.”

Truth rang from every word and it was so shocking that even Steve shut up. All four of them gaped at the ceiling, trying and failing to reconcile the knowledge that a group of medical professionals, who had sworn an oath to do no harm, even if that meant treating a genocidal dictator, had banded together to refuse to treat the Avengers.

To treat them.

That was what finally made Sam Wilson understand that maybe their self-righteous assurance was a tad unwarranted. Because he knew Helen Cho and Martin Wu and James Wilson and had met Greg House a few times in passing — and not a single one of them could be labeled ‘pushover’. He’d watched Cho stand chest-to-chest with Pepper Potts and tell her to sit down, Tony was doing just fine and she would be fetched as soon as it was safe for him to have visitors. Wu could and did obtain Rhodes’ compliance with a single raised eyebrow and a very specific pointed look, and James Rhodes hated hospitals and medical bays with a passion that made Stark’s look tepid in comparison. Wilson was Stark’s personal doctor and had been heard more than once telling the man that he didn’t give a damn about creative output, he was going to take a break from the lab in favor of actual fresh air — and be obeyed. Greg House needed no description.

(a lot of people were surprised at how well Tony Stark and Greg House got along, but the truth was, they both recognized the long-term effects of being abused, bullied, resented, and punished for not just being the best, but being vocal about it. So it was easy for Tony to understand and respect that House knew what he was doing when it came to medical matters and treat him accordingly. It took a bit longer for House to understand that Tony’s respect was genuine, but once he did, he came to trust that if Tony told him something couldn’t be done, it literally could not be done, it wasn’t personal or a slight against him or his conclusions.

They also had a deep appreciation for each other’s sense of humor, enjoyment of card games and fast cars, and shared penchant for biting, sarcastic remarks aimed at jackasses, morons, and disrespectful wannabes. Truly, it was a match made in Seriously High Genius Heaven.

The world trembled when they were together longer than ten minutes)

So no: none of the medical staff in the Tower were afraid to tell important people who also signed their paychecks ‘no’.

Which meant that Stark wasn’t behind this. Actual licensed doctors were refusing to treat them of their free will.

That . . . that was an eye-opener, at least for Sam.

Barton and Romanova understood the implications too, from the grim expressions they now wore.

It was a little alarming to realize that Steve didn’t seem to get the significance, but he was still their team leader, so when Sam saw that clenched jaw and protruding lip, instead of telling him to grow up, he sighed to himself and went around the table, catching the man’s forearm and squeezing tightly enough to get Steve’s attention, and was granted a glower in response, which he elected to ignore.

“C’mon, enough,” he coaxed instead, gently increasing the pressure of his hand. He couldn’t move Steve by force, but gentle persuasion often worked if he wasn’t in full-on ‘woe is me’ mode, complete with crossed arms and pouting so hard, he was in danger of tripping over his own bottom lip. Thankfully, he was still just sulking.

(again, the acknowledged child-like behavior was simply treated as normal)

As though the interruption had never happened, that hated Voice calmly resumed decimating the privacy of everyone in the room, calm and unflustered and infuriating.

“So, reports from teachers and other school officials here, what do we have . . . hmm. Lazy. Arrogant. Entitled. Unmotivated. Refuses to learn if he isn’t interested. Refuses to accept any kind of help or tutoring because — direct quote here — “you’re just trying to make me look stupid”. His eighth-grade science teacher, who was one of the few who lived long enough to be interviewed after the Valkyrie went down, stated that they all gave Rogers far too much leniency and coddled him because they knew how hard things were for his mother and that wasn’t taking her bratty son into account. Widowed, no savings, and living on a nurse’s paltry salary weren’t uncommon at the time, nor was the added strain of a child. But that child suffered so many health problems and afflictions, the doctor seriously recommended drowning him at birth because it was highly unlikely he’d survive, and if he did, his life would be short and miserable. Somewhat to his surprise, her entire neighborhood rallied behind her when she refused. According to these notes and interviews, that was a decision they all came to regret. Ouch.”

Sam didn’t dare look at Steve’s face, but he could see the rage in those broad shoulders and big hands and for the first time, genuinely feared for Stark’s life once they were released from this room.

“Anyway, back to Rogers’ educators. This teacher reports that the school’s way of helping — well, we thought we were helping, God help us all — was to just let him be. We tried to encourage him and help him however we could, but he wasn’t all that intelligent to begin with and he was so sensitive not just to his health problems, but also their extreme poverty, that he rejected any tutoring or educational assistance, he flatly refused to take food people offered him — which, given how dire the lack of food in his neighborhood really was, was unforgivable — and took every single disagreement as a personal attack. To my shame, we ignored that as well because there was no way he would ever win the fights he picked, but that meant we were utterly blind to the bully he quickly became.”

Silence.

It was different to the others, though it took Sam a bit to figure out why.

Truth be told, neither Nat nor Clint’s histories had been a huge surprise, other than the Red Room’s scathing indictment of Nat as ‘mediocre’. But the rest . . . well, they’d been spies and mercenaries and assassins. Those weren’t nice careers, so while it was jarring to see and hear people’s thoughts laid out so plainly, it wasn’t a huge shock when he really considered it.

But Steve . . .

He was Captain America. He was the embodiment of truth, of justice, of rightness. A living moral compass.

So hearing — worse, seeing — that so many people thought otherwise and had such a low opinion was . . . honestly, Sam felt like he’d just been dropped into a freezing cold pool with no warning and all the breath had been knocked out of him from the twinned effects of the frigid temperature and the sheer surprise of the impact.

And poor Steve looked like he’d just been slugged in the gut with an Iron Man gauntlet that was also wearing brass knuckles.

Nobody spoke.

Except that damned Voice.

“Doctor’s notes and reports,” it droned, the corresponding papers showing the many, and varied, health problems suffered by one Steve Grant Rogers. None of them were curable, few were manageable, and fewer were treatable. “According to the doctors, nurses, and his neighbors — they sure were nosy, weren’t they? — his mother’s monetary troubles prevented getting medicine or treatment and Rogers himself refused to do anything that would improve his health, as those actions always included ‘stop unnecessarily exerting yourself’ and ‘give up your desire to be a soldier’. Th—oh. This is awesome. This doctor actually wrote in this report that, ‘Steve Rogers would rather die too early and in aggravated, needless pain than admit he is incapable of doing something. While his frustration with his physical infirmities is understandable, his sheer stubbornness is troubling, because he perceives any kind of so-called ‘retreat’ as weakness and he has the kind of personality that will destroy anything and anyone around him before he’ll admit he’s wrong’.”

A very fraught pause ensued.

The unseen speaker audibly took a breath, but then didn’t speak, and a longer pause followed. Finally, after several excruciating minutes of dead air — compounded by the impotent rage of four very, very pissed off (and frightened) people — it was broken not by The Voice, but by a short but alarming collage of doctor’s notes, reports from nurses, and handwritten observations from what seemed to be various other hospital staff members.

There were a lot of them. There were an awful lot of them and for some reason, that made Sam’s stomach churn. Well, no, he knew why. Every single paper was negative about Steve: his health, his attitude, his insistence on making life difficult for everyone because he refused to be wrong. And Sam couldn’t even find it in himself to believe this was some kind of conspiracy, because Steve’s face was too tense. He also clearly recognized some of the names they were being shown and since he’d been in the ice for 70 years, they had to be real. It got even worse when The Voice added, “Well. That’s pretty self-explanatory. Let’s try something more interesting, shall we?”

Barton muttered a dark curse but nobody dared try to reach out to Steve, who was clenching and unclenching his fists in impotent anger, his eyes black with hurt and fury and indignation and what looked like bewilderment.

“Edna Harvey, neighbor,” The Voice mercilessly declared, making Sam twitch at the new look in Steve’s eyes even as his body burned with guilty curiosity when a different set of papers appeared on the screen. “Another direct quote: ‘Insolent, ungrateful brat. Ten years old and can’t walk the length of a block without wheezing and having to stop and rest at least twice, but still sneers at men who weren’t soldiers in the Great War and don’t express an interest in the military now’. Matilda Grey: ‘understandably resentful that his health is so bad, but refuses to do anything that would help or make his life — and his ma’s — easier. He is so determined to be seen ‘as a man’ that he will hurt himself before trying an alternate method, which he disdainfully calls ‘cheating’, and he will spit on anyone foolish enough to offer help’. Stanley Steinburg, local butcher: ‘Rogers is an ungrateful brat who would rather sleep on the streets than accept a morsel of help because ‘I’m a man, I can do it myself!’ God help his poor mother, because he refuses to and doesn’t care how much he’s hurting her’.”

Silence.

This one was different. It felt almost . . . fragile . . . which wasn’t really wrong, given the devastated, stunned look on Steve’s face. Clearly, he’d had no idea so many of the people of his childhood had such low opinions of him, and it hurt.

But this time, there was nobody to challenge. No one to fight.

All Steve could do was just . . . take it.

A new set of images flickered on the screen, and they made everyone in the room blink in bewilderment, because they were old police records. A lot of old police records.

With Steve’s name plastered all over them.

“Multiple records of arrest for fighting, disturbing the peace, assault. Good thing Barnes was rolling in money and didn’t have a life, or you’d probably still be in jail, Rogers.”

Steve’s jaw clenched but he said nothing, to Sam’s immense relief.

The screen flashed again and several more papers came up; they were familiar to most people with more than a vague interest in World War II.

“Ah, the infamous Army enlistment attempts. And each one contains more and more imaginative lies. But even those weren’t enough to get you into the Army. You know,” The Voice said thoughtfully, which for some reason made Sam cringe, “a smart person would have figured that out when the second try failed. Guess those teachers weren’t wrong.”

Steve went dark red with anger and probably humiliation, while Sam cringed again . . . because whoever the hell this bastard was, he wasn’t wrong this time. Yeah, until two minutes ago, Sam had thought the multiple enlistment attempts were romantic, like most people, but after seeing the actual documented records of Steve’s physical and medical issues, he had no choice but to realize how disturbing that mindset really was. Because the honest truth was that if Steve had been allowed to enlist, it was unlikely he’d have survived boot camp, and if he did, the first real mission or battle would have killed him.

And likely a lot of his fellow soldiers.

Now Sam was actually nauseous and he couldn’t keep looking at Steve.

Captain America.

Oh, God.

Then official Army documents were put on the screen, and Sam’s stomach rolled again. He recognized them all-too-well . . . and they were horrifying.

A furious evaluation from Colonel Phillips, declaring Steve to be insubordinate, lazy, arrogant, and utterly unfit for military life and what in the hell was Erskine thinking, choosing him for Project Rebirth?

Another furious report, this from a Captain Martin, stating that despite multiple attempts by multiple people, Steve refused to learn even the basics of actual fighting. He genuinely believed that because he could knock anyone out with a single blow, he had no reason to learn a formal, structured form of hand-to-hand combat.

The same Captain Martin submitting an enraged demand narrowly disguised as a formal recommendation that Steve be sent home, preferably in disgrace, because he had not only gone AWOL, he had blatantly defied the orders of three different superior officers before proceeding to endanger the lives of one Margaret Carter, SSR, and Howard Stark, Alpha Level Allied Asset.

That was followed by . . . oh, dear God. Phillips had actually initiated a court martial against Steve after he’d rescued the Howlies. That was horrifying and astonishing and — no, seriously, WHAT THE HELL?!

Then the attached note that clearly stated FDR understood completely but insisted that Phillips wait until the war was over, because like it or not (and, for the record, nobody liked it), punishing Steve for his insubordination, desertion of his post, disobeying direct orders, and endangerment of one of the Allied Armies’ greatest assets would do too much damage to morale, both at home and abroad. But the minute hostilities were officially over, Roosevelt would bring the charges himself.

Steve was white as a sheet. Nat and Clint were stone-faced.

Sam thought he was going to be sick.

Because until this exact second, he’d thought that Steve’s heroic rescue of the 107^th was as romantic as his multiple, and fraudulent, enlistment attempts. So seeing the actual crimes he’d committed, the rules he’d broken and violated, was appalling.

More importantly, it was eye-opening.

The letter from Phillips to his brother ranting about Steve being allowed to use the honorary title of ‘captain’ but being so ignorant and arrogant that he actually thought it was his real rank and he was therefore owed that respect and deference was . . . it left a bad taste in Sam’s mouth. Another letter, this one a blistering condemnation of the politics that let him get away with offenses and violations that would have seen anyone else put in front of a firing squad was . . . well, it was definitely warranted. Sam could imagine too well the reaction of any of his superiors if he had blatantly disobeyed orders, abandoned his post, and deliberately endangered two civilians, one of them a legally-recognized War Asset . . . because he thought that he, an untrained private who hadn’t finished a week of Basic Training, knew more and better than multiple high-ranking officers and Army reconnaissance, all of whom had determined that a rescue was unfeasible.

But Steve had gotten away with all of it.

And then he’d been rewarded for it, not just insulting everyone who knew the truth, but devaluing everything the Army stood for. Trust. Loyalty. Obeying the chain of command.

Respect.

. . . oh, God.

Sam’s red, white, and blue glasses shattered so suddenly, he actually couldn’t see anything for a while, because the sheer amount of truth that had been splattered all over the room was enough to make a blind man go deaf out of sheer self-preservation, and Sam could no longer deny that he was an absolute moron and had no one to blame but himself.

The worst part was that there was no reprieve. The hammer kept falling and each blow got harder.

“That was educational,” the unknown Voice (but it had to be Stark. Right?) mused.

“Oh, this is good! After he crashed into the ice, the Army’s top brass decided that since they couldn’t punish Rogers for anything he’d done, they might as well get some use out of him. So they whitewashed the missions he supposedly ‘led’ to make it look like he was some kind of tactical genius instead of a guy who sometimes had good first-contact ideas but couldn’t adapt to save anyone’s life when that single plan went all to hell — which almost always happens in battles. They screwed Falsworth over in the process, since he was the one who ran point with Phillips and did the actual planning, but the goal was recruitment and Rogers was more photogenic and, unfortunately, the most well-known name.”

This shocking, insulting truth was followed by an amused snort, which earned angry glares from all of them, though Sam’s was half-hearted. The picture that was being painted was ugly, but it was also becoming clearer by the minute and there was too much evidence. Not all of it could be faked, even by Stark, and that wasn’t including the stuff about Clint and Nat.

No. No, this was very real and very uncomfortable and their pardons were looking less and less like a triumph and more and more like a trap.

The worst part was that Sam himself was yet to come and he was very afraid. So far as he knew, he had no dark past like Nat, nor had he lied about everything the way Steve apparently had, so he had not even the faintest clue what his torment was going to be.

And he really didn’t want to find out.

“Fortunately, Phillips kept copies of everything and actually left his son instructions that it needed to be publicly released 100 years after Rogers went down, so the truth would be known but none of the survivors would have to suffer tangential disgrace. Well, he sounds like a standup guy. And that’s Rogers’ war record. It’s very underwhelming, but I feel very enlightened. How about you guys?”

Furious silence was their only reply, though it was heavily underscored with embarrassment. With the possible exception of Nat, none of them had known any of this — including Steve, and it was his own history.

As it had since this torture had begun, The Voice didn’t care about their thoughts or opinions and piped up again. Three words in, Sam was startled to realize that the emotionless, disembodied Voice suddenly wasn’t so emotionless. It sounded almost . . . it sounded almost malicious, and that realization made him go cold.

“Then we get to the present and his SHIELD file. You know, it’s interesting,” The Voice observed and they all swallowed, collectively feeling uneasy. “That entire organization could not tell someone the truth if the fate of the world depended on it, but their records are — were — meticulous. It’s almost like someone knew the future and prepared accordingly. And that’s so nice for us; one of the better gifts I’ve ever gotten, actually. So let’s see what SHIELD’s truths are about Steve Rogers and Captain America.”

If the theme from Jaws had started playing, Sam wouldn’t even have blinked.

Thankfully, whoever the hell was doing this refrained from making the obvious joke and in the process, kept the room intact for the time being.

“Psychologist number one’s assessment, two weeks after waking up: ‘Steve Rogers has a combination of Histrionic Personality Disorder and Narcissistic Personality Disorder, which will prove deadly if not managed properly by the people around him. Given his existing records, recovered from SHIELD’s archives and studied, the acknowledged treatments for these are unlikely to bear fruit. Rogers has a deep need for recognition from other people, but he also must be considered and treated as the most valuable person, not just ‘a’ leader but ‘the’ leader, the one everyone looks to for approval and guidance, and he has little respect for other people, especially those in positions of authority. He genuinely believes that he is superior to other people, due in large part to Abraham Erskine telling him that the serum would make ‘good become great’, a quote he gave me with great pride. Said pride changed immediately to a sulky refusal to listen when I pointed out the other half of that saying, where ‘bad becomes worse’. Rogers did not — does not — want to hear anything negative about himself, or acknowledge any criticism, so he simply doesn’t.' Huh.”

This silence was painful and so fragile, a feather would shatter it.

That thrice-damned Voice was a hell of a lot more damaging than a feather.

“’Addendum: this appears to be a fluctuating issue, based on who he’s dealing with. If he likes or thinks he respects the person, such as Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, he will simply and politely ignore what he doesn’t want to hear. Compare that attitude to the way he behaves when he interacts with Tony Stark and the difference is stark (if one will pardon the pun). Stark venerates no one for any reason, something Rogers takes exception to on general principle. Therefore, when Stark says something he doesn’t like or want to hear, Rogers will respond with aggression and possibly violence, depending on the circumstances. He also displays several markers that indicate sociopathic leanings, though I do not believe he is a full-blown sociopath. He is indifferent to other people on a personal level and cares nothing for their feelings, needs, or wants unless they oppose something he himself wants, at which point he becomes petulant.

"If that person persists in trying to achieve their goals instead of giving way to him, he again becomes aggressive, both verbally and physically. He also has little concern for people's lives or their things and is quick to brush off or justify any damage done as direct result of his actions, unless he can blame someone else, ideally a person he already dislikes or distrusts. In truth, the best way to handle the man is to give him the illusion of importance. Make sure he feels as though he is the deciding factor in any decisions that involve him, however indirectly, but only after the solution has been arrived at and agreed on. If you must disagree with him, try to frame it as your mistake, not his, because while aggression and violence are his first reactions, he is also prone to similar tantrums as young children when their parents tell them ‘no’.”

Sam was genuinely afraid he was going to be sick, and even Nat and Clint looked disturbed. Not surprised, he absently noted. But they were definitely uneasy about what had just been revealed.

Steve was apoplectic with rage. Face as red as a tomato, hands clenched so tightly the bones were pushing against his skin, jaw set, head lowered . . . he really did look like a bull. There were even puffs of steam coming out of his nostrils, he was that furious.

As if the thought was the cue, Steve gave a wordless roar and launched himself at the TV . . . and once again skidded back the length of the room from the force of the electrical field protecting the giant screen. Nobody said a word for the six minutes he lay sprawled against the wall, breathing heavily, drooling a little down his chin, and shaking from the effects of the powerful electrical current he’d hit with his full strength.

This time, Sam didn’t try to help him.

The Voice said nothing.

It didn’t need to.

It just carried on, destroying everyone’s illusions with a ruthless efficiency that screamed its contempt of them without once raising its voice.

“Psychologist number two, three months after the Battle of New York: ‘Steve Rogers has a severe case of Little Man Syndrome and an inferiority complex so large, it would be impressive if not for the alarming results. Rogers cannot handle any slights to or about his person and reacts to any mention of his pre-serum body with an aggression that is disturbing in its intensity. He is hyper-sensitive to his own former physical weaknesses and belligerently proud that they are gone and he is ‘big and strong and powerful now’. Ironically, he does not grant this level of care or concern to others who were or are in a similar situation; in fact, he actively sneers at men who are short or slight or afflicted with asthma or any other ailment he himself suffered.

"If they aren’t a soldier, contempt for ‘cowardice’ and ‘not being a man’ is also displayed. And if a smaller man has the audacity to disagree with Rogers, he instantly responds with standard aggressive tactics: towering over the individual, getting into their personal space, straightening his posture so he can look down his nose at them . . . in short, Steve Rogers exhibits all the classic signs of being a stereotypical bully, an attitude that seems to be exacerbated by the serum. More concerning is the fact that Rogers gloats about ‘not bowing down to bullies’ while being utterly oblivious to his own actions — but when those same actions are pointed out to him, they are instantly and hostilely justified. He genuinely believes that anything he says and does is right and righteous and therefore cannot be judged by normal standards. He is Captain America, so he is therefore right and no man has the authority to question him.”

Dead. Silence.

“He boasts about being ‘a little guy from Brooklyn’ and how his job is ‘to protect the little guys’, and yet, he has no genuine pride in being from Brooklyn. In fact, he often speaks of his childhood city with derision and scorn. As for ‘protecting the little guy’, my observations over the five months since he was recovered and awakened have shown a marked disregard for people in general. If they defer to him or worship him, to use that colloquialism, then he is all smiles and waves and geniality, but the moment they are out his eyesight, he forgets them. Anyone who argues with him or questions him is treated with open disdain and subjected to the aforementioned bullying tactics.

"Generally in such cases, exposure therapy to the negative triggers is recommended, but in Rogers’ case, I cannot advise that. His enhanced strength, especially paired with his emotional immaturity, creates too volatile a situation and he is quite capable and willing to inflict physical harm on the person he feels is belittling him. Rather, I strongly recommend keeping him away from anyone who might challenge him, especially if they are inclined to do so deliberately, because he will escalate such situations into verbal assault at least, and possibly physical violence as well, if he feels threatened enough.”

Clint actually cringed at that, while Nat remained stone-faced.

Sam . . . Sam didn’t know what to think. He wanted desperately to cry that it wasn’t true, Steve was a Good Man.

But he couldn’t.

Because now that it had been spelled out for him in black and white (literally), memories of past interactions with people were pouring into his mind and the doctor wasn’t wrong.

Not about any of it.

Steve was purple from the force of his emotions, but this time, he just stood there, fists clenched and eyes blazing while his life was dissected in front of his team, his faults displayed to people who were supposed to trust him to lead them.

And even he knew that he was no longer certain he still had their trust.

Or their loyalty.

His eyes, though . . . Sam swallowed hard, nausea churning in his gut.

Because Steve’s eyes showed so clearly that despite knowing there were now deep cracks in the team’s foundation, he still believed that he was entitled to their faith, trust, and loyalty, even in the face of all the evidence that said otherwise.

Despite the proof that was his own actions, some of it written by his own hand.

But even now, Steve didn’t think he’d really done anything wrong, or unjustified.

And yeah, Sam had thought the same thing — of Steve, of himself, of the others who’d sided with Steve — until about thirty, forty-five minutes ago. But in that time, he’d learned things. And those things had forced him to change his perspective and his mind. He honestly couldn’t say the same for Nat, because she had gotten her emotions under control so fast, but Barton was pale and flicking uncertain glances around the room.

Not Steve. He was standing there, tall and proud in his assurance that he was still right.

“That certainly tracks,” that sneering, hated Voice observed . . . only this time, Sam’s blood pressure didn’t spike with anger. Now he was just tired. And resigned. And maybe, in the very back of his mind, even a little grateful.

“You’re just like a bull in a china shop, Mr. Rogers, except worse. The bull honestly doesn’t know any better and destroys things by accident unless he’s provoked. You, on the other hand, could learn and know better. You just refuse to do it. And so what the rest of the world has to deal with is you, the Ultimate Bull in a China Shop. You don’t know why you’re in a china shop. You have no idea what a china shop even is. But by God, since you’re there, you are going to destroy anything that you don’t understand or that has someone else’s superhero moniker on it so you can tell yourself that you are still the best, most important ‘hero’ ever. And while you’re admiring yourself in the mirror you shattered, the rest of us have to pick up the pieces and hope you keep ignoring us so we don’t die in your quest to do whatever the hell you want.”

For the first time, there were clear emotions in The Voice, and they stopped everyone in their tracks for a minute. Because that emotionless, disembodied, computer-generated Voice was throbbing with contempt so thick, they were all in danger of drowning.

The immediate switch back to emotionless drone was . . . well, to be honest, it was terrifying.

“And then, of course, there’s SHIELD itself. Psychologist number three noted that ‘Mr. Rogers is extremely gullible. Alarmingly so, even. He has shown a pattern of believing the first thing he sees or is told, which is not unusual. However, unlike most people, his opinion does not evolve as his knowledge of the person or situation does. For example: Director Fury showed Rogers the ‘assessment’ that Romanova provided along with a carefully selected group of video clips that were designed to portray Tony Stark in a bad light and thus foster an immediate negative response in Rogers. Naturally, it worked.

"But two years later, then three, then four, Rogers still has the same opinion of Stark, one that he formed before he ever met the man in person. And the same holds true with Romanova, who looked up at him with adoring eyes and gushed about how wonderful it was to meet such an amazing icon and what a role model he’d been for her. That was all it took and even though he later learned of her past, present, and future as an assassin, his initial impression of her held and he managed to twist and turn what he first saw and what she herself said later until he was able to justify it as ‘for the greater good of my team’.

"Barton followed Romanova and never questioned her thoughts on a person, so he was also immediately accepted. And of course, there’s Sam Wilson, whose account of their first meeting boils down to, “OMG, I met Captain America. You’re my hero!.’ Naturally, Mr. Rogers took that as his due; also naturally, this meant that Wilson must be a good person, because he gave Rogers the deference and respect he feels he’s automatically owed. Stark and Bruce Banner, however, treated Rogers like a person and did not simply accept every word he uttered, and so were treated with disdain and, in Stark’s case, outright hostility. That shows Rogers’ cowardice as well, because he was afraid to provoke Banner into becoming the Hulk, who is both uncontrollable and stronger than Rogers.”

Sam almost couldn’t control his stomach that time, because they were all shown the video of the first meeting of the original Avengers.

He had never felt so ashamed in his life, not even the time he’d stolen that Snickers bar for his mom because it was her favorite and she’d had a long day, only to eat it all himself because he was afraid she’d realize what he’d done.

He had willingly followed a man-child who wasn’t qualified to run a single bathtub sailboat and in the process, he’d destroyed his own life. His career, his future prospects, his freedom. Everything had gone up in flames because Sam thought that Captain America was perfect, which meant that Steve was infallible by the same logic.

The worst part was that he should have known better, hell, he did know better, but he’d been so disillusioned by what the Air Force had done after Riley’s death, how they’d downplayed the equipment quality and stopped one word short of outright saying that the cause was user error. They had cheapened Riley’s death and hurt his reputation to avoid looking bad before subtly using Sam as the scapegoat for the reason the mission couldn’t be salvaged, and Sam resented the hell out of them for it. So when he met the Man Who Defied All the Military’s Rules Because They Were Stupid, of course he’d superglued himself to Steve’s ass, put on the Rogers’ Approved red, white, and blue sunglasses, and became his personal mouthpiece and cheerleader.

“This is also tracks with Rogers’ actions before, during, and after the Data Dump of SHIELD and HYDRA, along with dropping three airborne helicarriers in the Potomac River with no authorization and no warning, barely two years later. He actively refused to even consider contacting Tony Stark, his supposed teammate, to ask for help. His justification for that was, of course, that ‘he didn’t know who he could trust because everyone could be HYDRA’ — only, he had recruited a willing and eager Sam Wilson to his cause, and by both men’s admission, they’d known each other less than 24 hours. But Rogers ‘trusted his gut and his gut said Sam was a good guy’. That is the official explanation he provided when he was finally pinned down and interviewed five months later.

“This directly contradicts the audio recordings that were recovered from their meeting places, caught by bugs Romanova placed, either for herself or at Fury’s behest. One conversation has Wilson clearly asking why they didn’t just call Stark and have him sort it out, and Rogers’ equally clear reply that ‘Stark isn’t a good guy. He’ll do it, but he’ll showboat and warn everyone what he’s doing, and then he’ll take all the credit and brag for weeks about how he saved the day again. Besides, Nat’s just as good’. Wilson’s dubious belief at both statements was gently but firmly rebuffed and Rogers pretended he didn’t hear it the next — and last — time Wilson broached the subject.

"And it must be noted in passing, as a full assessment of the mindset behind the data dump would take several days, that Rogers never once showed a single hint or indication of regret for the lives he directly and indirectly took or injured, nor was there any concern or curiosity about the repercussions of being complicit in coming within a hair’s breadth of starting World War III. As far as he is concerned, the mission was successful and any collateral damage is acceptable. His hubris is also evident in the fact that he believes those decisions and actions destroyed HYDRA, while completely oblivious to the fact that he and his team then spent the next year hunting down HYDRA operatives and bases.”

That finally pushed Sam over the edge and he lurched for the trash can. He made it in time and dry heaved for a bit. When he finally got his body back under control and sat back on his heels, he was both annoyed and not really surprised at realizing not a single one of his teammates had even bothered to get a glass of water for him. No, they were all sitting on the couch or table and glaring with matching anger at the papers that were being rotated in a slow, lazy pattern. In essence, Stark (it had to be him) was rubbing their noses in their culpability, and he had ensured they couldn’t escape.

Like being trapped in a carnival funhouse, the Rogue Avengers were being forced to stare at themselves in the mirror that reflected Truth and Nothing but the Truth, so help you God.

And that truth was ugly, reflected very poorly on them, and couldn’t be escaped, because there was nowhere to turn that a mirror wasn’t glaring back at them.

Due to Steve’s puzzling — in retrospect — lack of trust or even respect for Stark, he and Nat had engineered the death, capture, and torture of an entire intelligence agency. Due to that same lack, aided and abetted by Sam’s decision to leave his brain at home in a jar by the sink, the two of them had murdered nearly a thousand people, injured thousands more, and caused so much property damage and destruction, the final number hadn’t actually been tallied yet, and it had been more than six years.

Thankfully, Sam was still next to the trashcan, because he heaved again. His willful blindness had finally caught up with him and he honestly thought he would never sleep soundly again, now that he finally understood what he’d done.

And why.

“Fourth psychologist.” The Voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts but this time, he was grateful. Now was not the time to do all the thinking he’d shunted off for the last four years. “This interview took place approximately seven months before the final version of the first iteration of the Accords was tentatively finalized. ‘The first thing of major note about Mr. Rogers is that he has been living in this time for four years, and yet he is completely unaware of the world. During a casual conversation, he disclosed that he has no idea of the Vice President’s name, knows who none of the top Army brass, or even who SecDef is, and the only reason he knows the President’s name is because he’s ‘a fan of Captain America and a real standup guy’.

“Rogers also showed a complete lack of both knowledge and concern about the geopolitical situations as they pertain to the US — although, oddly, he made a snide comment about Tony Stark trying to make himself sound important by ‘pretending he has influence over Japan’s decision to not partner with some company or another’. I mention this only because it literally came out of nowhere, though it does help explain other seemingly random comments he’s made over the years, about how Stark does nothing but brag about work he isn’t doing.

“As my goal in this evaluation was to determine Rogers’ overall mental state, I elected not to pursue that subject, but I strongly advise that a separate assessment be done and quickly, because Rogers is living completely off Stark’s largesse — which will be addressed shortly — but seems ignorant of what, exactly, the man does, or who he is. He certainly doesn’t grasp the true nature of Tony Stark’s importance to both America and the world at large, though he does resent it. As some of my colleagues have already noted, Mr. Rogers has a deep-seeded need to be the most important person in the room, to be in the spotlight, and he strongly resents people he feels are taking that away from him. And Tony Stark is one of those individuals who commands attention simply by entering a room.”

Well, that was cold, but it tracked, Sam readily admitted. Now that he’d pulled his head out of Steve’s ass, he was seeing a lot more clearly and this was something he had noticed; he’d just never thought anything about it.  

“Even more alarming is the fact that Mr. Rogers has a list of things people have told him he needed to know about this time — not a formal list provided by SHIELD or the government or an accredited educational institution or even Tony Stark. It is literally a list of things random people have told him are important. For instance, Sam Wilson recommended a music album by Marvin Gaye when they first met. Two years later, Mr. Rogers still hasn’t listened to it. In fact, based on the list he proudly showed me, comprised of fewer than fifteen items, he has seen Star Wars and watched some of I Love Lucy, but still doesn’t know what the Berlin Wall is, much less the significance of its fall. When I delicately inquired as to why Mr. Rogers was so unknowledgeable about the world, he scoffed and replied, ‘I don’t need to sit in a classroom or study a bunch of books that you can’t understand anyway to know about the world’. He was completely serious.

“When I checked the SHIELD archives, I found two references to a reintegration program designed for Mr. Rogers. The first was merely a list of what information would be provided and by whom, which was admittedly very lackluster, though in perfect keeping with Fury’s stated desire to keep Rogers under his control by ensuring the man looked only to him for answers and information. The second mention stated that Fury had elected to scrap the program since Rogers had repeatedly refused to attend any classes or sessions and, direct quote here, ‘we could hardly force a super soldier to go to class. Sure, we could drug him and haul his ass down there, but he’d refuse to learn a damn thing just to prove he didn’t answer to anyone but himself, so I put my people to work on other assignments. Let Rogers stay ignorant; it’ll make my job easier in the long run, anyway’.”

This time, the barrage of papers and reports were interrupted by a recording, clear as a bell, of Steve saying exactly what the shrink had claimed: that he didn’t need any kind of formal education about a world seven decades ahead of his own.

Sam heaved again, feeling his throat burn from and wishing for a bottle or twelve that he could guzzle but knowing he was SOL. Buying their own groceries was one of the stipulations of their Accords contracts and he knew that none of them had ever considered bottled water since it was surprisingly (and annoyingly) expensive. So they made do with tap water, but right then, Sam wasn’t sure he could actually stand up.

And it wasn’t like any of his teammates, his supposed friends, would notice his plight and get one for him.

Their self-centeredness and careless lack of concern or even consideration was another thing he found himself unable to avoid noticing (finally) and it grated more than it probably should.

“Mr. Rogers also believes that getting any kind of job outside of ‘superheroing’ is beneath him and, in fact, he — and presumably his other teammates, given their public actions — seems to think that using Tony Stark as his sugar-daddy, to borrow the euphemism, is perfectly acceptable. He has convinced himself that it was fine for Howard Stark to build and sell weapons, but his son is a bad person for doing the same, and so he owes Rogers and his team anything they want with no questions asked, as his penance for committing such horrible crimes and being such a bad person.”

Several video and audio clips from the Tower and Compound were then played and Sam cringed again, and not just from seeing and hearing those hateful, snide, downright mean comments and accusations. He personally had always thought Stark was just another rich, white, trust fund baby who was coasting through life off his daddy’s success, because there was no way one man could be that smart and that talented.

Clearly it wasn’t just Steve Rogers he’d been blind about.

“Mr. Rogers is also obsessed with the past to an extremely unhealthy degree. While it is natural to miss your youth, especially when the severance was as abrupt and all-encompassing as his was, four years is more than enough time to adjust and be well on your way to full acclimation. Rogers refuses to even try, and his discovery that James Barnes still lives has only made his obsession worse. Based on my observations and inferences drawn from Rogers’ own words, it seems clear that his concern isn’t for Barnes himself, but rather a desperate desire to have something familiar back, something that doesn’t confuse him or make him feel small.

“He will immediately reject the Sokovia Accords, as he also refuses to allow anyone to have authority or control over him, and Tony Stark’s involvement will only deepen his rejection. There is also a strong possibility that his refusal will be . . . violent, though not necessarily physical. Rogers is very childlike and also childish at the most baffling times, including throwing tantrums when he doesn’t get his way, and he will not get his way with regards to the Accords or any other legislation relating to the regulation of not just superhero teams, but international forces as a whole. Several countries are actively working on passing such laws as soon as they can in an attempt to mitigate not just unnecessary damage, but also a lack of accountability after the fact, which he will take as a personal challenge and direct insult.”

That . . . oh. That was . . . that was bad. Someone had foreseen Steve’s reaction to the Accords way before they were presented, which — well, it made all of them look both bad and stupid. Clearly, their surprise at being presented with a complete, international document was totally unwarranted, and their blind arrogance in their declaration that they needed no oversight, they and their judgement were perfect was . . .

Well.

It had killed a lot of people (God, so many), hurt innumerable more, destroyed so much in so many places, and ultimately put them in prison. Sure, it was a cushy prison, on house arrest in the Compound, but it was still prison.

For the first time, Sam realized that they deserved every ounce of the punishment they hadn’t gotten and their whining about how mean and unfair and corrupt everyone was for forcing them to follow the damn law was . . .

Wrong.

They were wrong. All of them. On every level.

“In summation,” that damned lifesaving Voice droned, sounding laconic despite itself and allowing Sam to get his stomach under control this time, “Steve Rogers is not a productive member of society as it is today. In fact, he is detrimental to it. His willful, deliberate ignorance is and will continue to be a problem, but it’s his complete lack of care or concern for anyone or anything that isn’t directly related to him that is the true concern and the biggest danger. A man who cannot name the person in the second highest position of power in his country has been put in charge of a team of people who often have to act internationally. And once Tony Stark was forced off the team, the quality of those interactions substantially decreased, which Rogers has either not noticed or blamed on someone else. This is naturally troubling, particularly for a man who genuinely believes that he should and will answer to no one but himself. Final assessment: Captain America: a dangerous lie that must be destroyed immediately. Steve Rogers: of no use or value to anyone as he is now.”

Against all odds, Steve didn’t throw a fit on hearing his worst fears be stated so bluntly.

He simply rose from his chair and went to the furthest corner of the room, turning his back to them as he fought for control. Sam couldn’t blame him, but he was absurdly grateful he didn’t have to deal with another tantrum right then . . . which made the complete lack of reaction from either of the spies in the room suspect. A quick glance confirmed his sudden suspicion: neither Clint nor Nat looked surprised at the horrifying revelations about Steve. Frustrated, sure (Clint) and irritated with the faintest hint of concern (Nat), but not so much as a twitch of surprise.

Well. Wasn’t that nice? Looked like Stark wasn’t the only one they’d kept secrets from.

And now he was about to find out things about himself that he, himself, was unlikely to know, with no warning and no time to prepare (though for what, he didn’t know, and nearly broke into hysterical laughter at his own perfect pun), much less brace for.

Because he was next. And last. And then, once their walls were all destroyed and all their hiding places had been dragged into the light, maybe they’d find out who was doing this, and why, and what it really meant for the team, because there was no way things would stay the same. Not after this.

And they shouldn’t. Sam was apparently a bigger liar than he’d realized, but even he recognized that truth. Frighteningly, it was clear that he was the only person who grasped the truth about what was really happening here (again, his accidental pun nearly sent him into uncontrollable hysterics), and Steve would die — literally, he had finally realized — before admitting that he was wrong, that he made mistakes.

That he wasn’t perfect or infallible.

That anyone’s hands were safer than his.

“Sam Wilson.”

Oh, thank God. It had started. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long.

Hopefully, he behaved better than the others on hearing the truth about himself.

“Let’s see . . . you’re really pretty boring, Mr. Wilson,” The Voice informed him. “Average grades in school, never played in a football game, never got a solo in concert band, never placed higher than sixth in track and field, average performance in ROTC . . . hmm. Very average, indeed. Almost invisible, even. No close friends and only a handful of acquaintances . . . and yet, you were always seen on the outskirts of the popular circles, serving as an all-purpose cheerleader. That’s according to your guidance counselor, by the way. He was very concerned about your habit of letting strong-willed people think for you, not to mention the fact that you seldom questioned those people, instead following them without thought or hesitation, even when their decisions resulted in problems. All three of your high school evaluations state that you lack validation, though not necessarily attention, but you have no desire to be the main point of focus.

"To that end, you latch on to the strongest personality who is already well-known in a good way, or an up-and-comer, someone who will allow you to ride their coattails while constantly stroking their ego without asking for anything but their praise. Huh. Sounds like you’re nothing but an emotional support fluffer, Mr. Wilson. And it answers that puzzling question as to why you stayed glued to Rogers instead of shifting to Tony Stark: he thrives on being questioned and challenged, as long as it’s respectful and serves a purpose, so naturally he despises sycophants and yes-men, while Rogers takes challenges as a personal insult and pets and praises and rewards his favorites and sycophants with his unfeigned delight and approval of their support. Such relationships are always mutually parasitical in nature and rarely end well, especially when the dominant personality is a high-profile individual.”

Well. Wasn’t that embarrassing?

Given his blatant, well-documented, mindless subservience to Steve, it wasn’t surprising even to Sam, but still: he could have done without these people knowing how invisible he’d always felt and how badly he wanted someone important to not just see him, but truly value him and his thoughts.

Oblivious to Sam’s not-really-new-realization, The Voice continued.

“You scored second lowest in the history of the Air Force on the entrance exam, but your grandfather’s name and influence got you past that — for the first time, it seems, because the military was the only thing you wanted for yourself. Average military career, though your few promotions came slower than the average timeframe. So why w—oh. Your grandfather wanted you to have at least one chance at trying and maybe even excelling at something out of the ordinary and his endorsement stated that he felt you could and would excel as a non-standard pilot if you weren’t slogging behind everyone else doing the exact same things, so you were unfairly fast-tracked to the EXO-7 Falcon program for a trial period of three months.

"However, seven weeks in, the unanimous recommendation, given by both the other members of the program and the individuals in charge, was made to remove you as soon as the trial ended, as you were — direct quote — ‘uniquely unsuited for not just the physical challenges of being a member of the Falcons, but also mentally unfit. Mr. Wilson is not stupid, but he lacks leadership skills, does not possess the ability to improvise and in fact responds very poorly when situations reach a certain level of complexity, and he is unable to process and adapt when things veer out of control. His split-second judgment is also lacking in all respects and that combination disqualifies him from continuing in the EXO-7 Falcon program’. Huh. It also says here that you were never informed of this because your partner was KIA. The overall consensus was that you were not responsible for the initial problem, but your lack of the necessary program-specific skills prevented you from salvaging anything, including a potential rescue of Sgt. Riley. He made a minor but critical error and was unable to correct it in time, but a qualified, skilled pilot had a more-than-acceptable chance of rescuing the sergeant and completing the mission. Unfortunately for everyone, Sgt. Wilson was not.”

. . . wait.

Wait.

What?!

What did this asshole mean, Riley had sc—oh. But he had, hadn’t he? Though he felt disloyal at even having the thought, Sam did remember that. He’d seen Riley press the wrong button on his suit, but the change in his course was so minor, neither of them had noticed.

And then Riley was spinning and spiraling out of nowhere, right in the middle of that ravine, and he couldn’t reboot his suit in time, while Sam had been taken completely by surprise and couldn’t compensate, because he’d been flying behind Riley at the maximum safe distance.

Everything had happened so fast and there just hadn’t been time.

Except . . . apparently, there had been. Enough of it, had Sam not been so concerned about safety and a rigid interpretation of the rules and regs.

About being rewarded for following them so well.

Which meant that he had played a part in Riley’s death.

Through the sudden roaring in his ears, Sam vaguely heard The Voice say, “Wow. The theft of those Falcon wings, which you are not only required to return to SI but also pay damages and reparations for every single minute of unauthorized use, seems to be your only secret, Mr. Wilson. Other than being a dangerous sycophant and enabler for Steve Rogers, that is, even in the face of murder.”

The short pause that followed was enough to let Sam come back to the present; he would have to grieve for Riley later, when he was alone and could lose his mind without an audience.

“It’s ironic. But when you get down to it, taking all the bullshit into account, you, Mr. Wilson, are actually the most dangerous of the group. The others are definitely liars, thieves, and murderers, but without your silent compliance and eager enabling, much of what happened with the Avengers could have been, if not avoided, mitigated. But instead of speaking up, you willingly set aside your responsibility to think and speak, and just let the avalanche drag you along, bearing witness to the destruction and justifying it as ‘unavoidable’ because Steve Rogers made you feel important and special, but only if you mindlessly followed him — to the point of breaking into a high-security facility and stealing a prototype you had already failed at using once. In fact, you were so eager, or maybe desperate, for Rogers' attention, you actively volunteered not just highly classified information, but you also volunteered for the breaking, entering, and actual theft. And you did all of that simply so a man you didn't know and didn't know you would say 'well done'. Final assessment: The Falcon, inadequate. Sam Wilson: nobody.”

Well.

That was . . . Sam didn’t know what that was. Unexpected, sure, and humiliating in a way, but also . . . also a relief. He’d honestly had no idea that the Air Force thought so little of him, and that did sting, but it didn’t light any kind of righteous fire in him, something that demanded recompense or just plain revenge, because Riley’s death had killed that part of him and even knowing the truth didn’t change that.

He spared a thought to wonder at his own instant acceptance that what he’d heard about himself was the truth, but given how vicious The Voice had been in exposing Steve and Nat and even Clint, the fact that Sam had escaped relatively unscathed spoke to the guy’s honesty. It wouldn’t have been hard to make something up, but whoever it was hadn’t, which was pretty solid proof that everything they’d seen and heard should be taken at face value.

Plus, there were the myriad of files, reports, notes, letters, and recordings, and even Tony Stark couldn’t have faked that much stuff for this many people.

“The Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, are finally shown for who and what they are,” The Voice suddenly declared, startling all of them into jumping. Nat actually came all the way to her feet, fingers curled around the hilt of the knife at her hip. “And what they are is mediocre. Unimportant. Irrelevant. Dishonest. Lacking value. Worthless. Not needed.”

The sheer savage sundering of their final line of defense, that last holdout that maybe this was just a hallucination or a sick joke played by a vindictive Tony Stark, was devastating. None of them had anything left to fight with and it showed in their defeated postures as the full weight of what had just happened settled over them.

Numb now from the vicious, precise, savage severing of their jugular veins, their secrets were splattered all over the room, as thick and deadly as if it were their lifeblood. But they weren’t going to be granted the mercy of death.

Why would Stark show them more mercy and consideration than they’d ever thought he deserved?

The ding of the elevator opening, soft as it was, might as well have been an air horn. All four of them jumped again in surprise, twisting and pivoting to see who had been stupid enough, cruel enough, to do what had just been done to them.

Sam felt nothing but exhaustion, but the other three were clearly enraged and he was vaguely concerned for the safety of whoever was about to reveal themselves.

With a tired, weary acceptance, he realized that he wasn’t concerned enough to stand or even speak out against his teammates’ clear violent intentions, nor did he voice a warning to the new arrival.

The guilt was so vague, he only noticed it because the room was so still, so quiet.

And yet, positively vibrating with rage and humiliation and embarrassment and the overwhelming sense of violation.

“Wow. All three strikes accrued within 72 hours. That’s a really impressive record, Ms. Romanova. Mr. Rogers. Mr. Barton. Mr. Wilson.”

They all went rigid before slowly turning to face the intruder. He gave them a bright, toothy, satisfied smile that drew blood and Romanova felt a chill sweep through her.

This boy was definitely an enigma, because despite the secrecy surrounding his civilian side on top of his status as Spiderman, not once had she credited him with the ability to be dangerous, much less a threat.

Especially to her.

But seeing him standing there, all five and a half feet of him, lithe and lacking any obvious muscles, baby-faced, and with gentle, unscarred, soft hands, made the hairs on her arms prickle.

Because he was exuding the same kind of danger, the same threat, that she pretended Tony Stark didn’t possess.

None of them had a chance to respond before he moved further into the room, followed by James Rhodes . . . but not Stark.

Her blood ran cold.

This was very, very bad. Stark could be manipulated, gaslighted, or just plain guilt-tripped into going easy on them. But Parker had despised them from the minute he’d officially met them, and she couldn’t even blame Stark for it, because the four of them had run their mouths with their usual disregard and derision for their reluctant (on all sides) benefactor . . . and they’d done it in front of him, without even thinking to censor themselves.

Peter Parker’s loyalty was firmly, immutably, with Tony Stark.

As was James Rhodes’. He’d been Tony’s friend for decades, but despite Steve’s self-righteous lies to justify his distrust of the man because of that loyalty, Rhodes was not a lapdog and he sure as hell wasn’t a Yes-Man. Unlike Wilson — and Romanova would admit this only to herself — Rhodes not only had a working, well-trained, and highly experienced brain, he actively used it to think for himself. Would he consider something just because Stark asked him to? Yes. But he always made the ultimate decision himself.

Wilson’s only purpose in life since joining the team was to obey Steve’s every command, parrot everything he said that sounded vaguely important, and agree with every decision he made and every opinion he held. But he had no spine and no real personality; he would have done (or, well, tried; the man hated sycophants with a passion) the same with Stark, had they met first, because he liked to plaster himself to important people and ride their coattails.

Clint was a follower, full-stop. She’d won his unconditional trust years ago and it took little effort to maintain it. As whoever it was had observed, he hated thinking and distrusted intelligent people like Stark and Banner. He followed Steve because she did, but also because Steve was . . . well . . . stupid. Not just uneducated, though that was a much worse problem than any of them had realized until it was beyond too late, but he genuinely wasn’t that smart. And he was too dumb to realize that, too stubborn to make allowances for it if he had known, and too egotistical to even think about trying to fill some of the gaps in his knowledge.

All of that meant he could never make Clint feel inferior, which he hated more than anything in the world (a trait he shared with Rogers, though they both refused to admit it).

Stark, on the other hand . . . a few months after Loki’s invasion, he’d gotten bored and decided to learn archery, if only so he could design the best possible weapon for his teammate. Clint had smirked at that, assured that the man would fail quickly and be forced to acknowledge his humiliation.

So it both stunned and infuriated him (all of them) when Stark had achieved an Olympic-level proficiency in three weeks. He didn’t have Clint’s intuition or ability to locate a target he couldn’t see, but put them on equal footing in an archery range and they were damn near at equal ability.

Clint therefore hated Stark because the man was richer than Midas and was not only as good at Clint’s niche specialty as he was, which was a feat nobody else could claim (well, that they knew of. It was a good thing Clint had never heard of Oliver Queen), but he’d accomplished that goal in less than a month, while it had taken Clint more than a year. In one fell swoop, Stark had taken away his uniqueness and made him feel inferior.

(they all ignored the fact that Stark had been a weapons designer for decades, so naturally he had to understand everything about them, which meant he had to be not just proficient, but intuitive in their use. How else could he be the best?)

Romanova herself was also a follower, but not a blind one. She followed Fury because a) he was a hell of better alternative than the Red Room and b) once he had decided to trust(ish) her, her safety was assured. But she also knew that if she ever betrayed him deliberately, he would kill her. Unlike with Dreykov, there would be no monologues, no interrogation, no dramatics; it would just be a bullet to the brain and two more in the heart to make sure. And there was nowhere she could hide, not for long. But she also agreed with his overall goals and he had no problem with letting her use her specific skillset when and how she wanted, so long as she got the desired results and didn’t cause problems for SHIELD.

All of that to say, none of them really liked James Rhodes because he wasn’t just loyal to Stark out of friendship obligation, but because he had actively chosen to be. He had no problem telling Steve when one of his command decisions was bad, which was why Steve had quickly stopped asking for War Machine’s help, regardless of how dire the situation was. He couldn’t stand being challenged, especially when he was wrong, so he tried to make sure that he was surrounded by people who obeyed without question because they trusted that he knew what he was doing and would make the right decision. He was too arrogant and too ignorant to understand that trust had nothing to do with challenging a poor or ill-advised order and his deep sense of inferiority meant that he took every challenge and dissent as bullying.

The shrinks had been right in that assessment, if nothing else.

That was the main reason why Steve disliked, distrusted, and shunned Stark as much as he could: Tony Stark bowed to no one and he would not blindly follow, either. If he knew or suspected that someone was making a bad decision and it affected him, his people, or innocent bystanders, then he didn’t give a damn about anyone’s feelings. He was going to say something. To be sure, he could often be more tactful about it, but tact was something he rarely saw the point in using, as too much time was wasted in trying to decipher what had actually been said. So for Steve, the knowledge of the assassination of Tony’s parents on HYDRA’s orders and at Barnes’ hand changed nothing about his opinion of the man. It did, however, deepen the intensity of his disdainful feelings and had a drastic impact on his behavior, though nobody would realize that until after Siberia.

But Stark was also the heart of the team, as much as they all hated it. He provided the balance they needed between humor, seriousness, and acceptance of the things they were called on to do, because he was neither a soldier nor a spy nor a mercenary, so he wasn’t mentally or emotionally scarred the way the rest of them were (his scars were much different, though they were just a deep and just as painful. But acknowledging that would be inconvenient for everyone, so they pretended the public façade was who Tony really was so they could justify their shitty treatment of him). He wasn’t remotely innocent of the world’s evils, but there was a kind of . . . goodness . . . deep in his soul that the rest of them lacked. Unfortunately, that same quality allowed Romanova to manipulate him into being the team’s . . . well, being their sugar daddy, to be blunt.

In other words, none of the four Rogues liked or trusted James Rhodes or Tony Stark, and they were deeply ambivalent about Peter Parker, who had no qualms whatsoever about displaying his loyalty to Stark every time they saw him.

So seeing only James Rhodes and Peter Parker immediately after she’d not only used Rhodes’ access info to steal information they had all sworn not to go looking for, followed by the trauma of having every secret they possessed brutally yanked from the depths of their beings and casually thrown into the sun where God and everyone could see them, was a very . . . concerning . . . turn of events. She couldn’t seduce Rhodes, nor could she guilt-trip him, and he’d hated her since the Palladium Incident. Since he was a grown, mature adult, he’d been able to work with her when necessary, but he despised her. She could drop right this second from a heart attack and he’d summon medical aid and do anything he could to keep her alive, but he wouldn’t hold her hand to comfort or reassure her or even tuck a pad of paper under her head to keep it off the cold, hard floor.

And Parker . . . for the first time in decades, she couldn’t read someone. He was utterly impassive and for a 15-year-old boy standing in front of the Black Widow, that was . . . she would have said ‘impossible’ until right this second. It was definitely unnerving, and maybe even a little alarming.

But she’d never let other people’s inadequacies stop her from doing what needed to be done.

In this case, shaming a child into both silence and obedience. That wouldn’t be hard, loyalty to Stark notwithstanding. The boy simply didn’t have the fortitude to stand against any Black Widow, never mind her.

And never mind what that damned report said.

Moving with the smooth, deceptive speed that fooled everyone but Fury, she got in Parker’s personal space before anyone could blink.

“Have you no respect at all?” she hissed, leaning down until the heat of her breath made his eyes cross.

The shove that sent her skidding back into the couch stunned everyone and she actually lost control of her expression for a second and gawked at him.

Spiderman or no, he should not have been able to do that. She had ensnared him with her eyes and no man was strong enough to break her gaze.

His bright, cheerful grin was extremely disquieting and she swallowed hard in spite of herself. When it went dangeous with a very well controlled anger, the first tendrils of fea—alarm slid up her spine.

“Respect, huh?” he purred, sounding too much like Stark for anyone’s peace of mind. But something kept her tongue leashed, despite her deep desire to verbally rip him to shreds. “That’s hilarious, given all four of you broke your own vow less than a month into a house arrest you should never have been granted. Why is it okay for you to violate my privacy and discover my secrets, but it’s wrong when it happens to you?”

Behind her, Steve spluttered and Clint hissed a vicious curse, because neither of them had an answer to that — reasonable or not. Sam, she noted without surprise, didn’t even bother getting upset. He just slumped further on the couch, apathetic to the end.

Romanova wasn’t so easily defeated.

Pointedly ignoring Rhodes, she gave Parker a haughty look. “We needed to know about someone we’re likely to fight alongside,” she told him, letting her eyes gloat at her logical, understandable reasoning.

He didn’t even blink, though Rhodes straightened just a little, for a reason she couldn’t pin down.

“Of course,” Parker chirped, looking so gleeful it bordered on deranged. “I did too. So I looked you all up, because I needed to know, to understand, the people I’d probably end up fighting.” A long, slow blink accompanied a matching long, slow silence, before he added, “with.”

His meaning was clear and Nat sucked in a sharp breath while Steve, who had in all likelihood already erased or rewritten everything so that he was still right, lunged to his feet and stalked to her side. Even without seeing his face, she knew he was giving Parker his aggravating, useless ‘I’m really disappointed in you’ look that made literally everyone who saw it want to give him a wedgie just to knock him down a peg or twelve.

Parker was no exception, though he had enough control to let Steve bluster first.

“That is not the same thing at all!” the moron in question lectured, actually shaking his finger. Parker went cross-eyed again watching it, but his head never moved.

Nat went still, because that was an extraordinarily difficult level of control, and a 16-year-old boy, superhero or not, should not be able to do it, much less maintain it. But it wasn’t two heartbeats before the kid shrugged and the illusion of fearless, unconcerned superhero vanished.

His voice even sounded light and curious when he gave Steve a wide-eyed look that made Nat and Clint twitch for reasons they didn’t understand and said, “That’s awesome, Mr. Rogers.” A beat. “Why?”

Caught completely off-guard at being challenged by a mere kid, Steve floundered for a minute before repeating, “Why? What do you mean, ‘why’?”

This earned him a look of such longsuffering insolence, Clint sucked in a deep breath, offended on behalf of adults everywhere. He might not spend a lot of time with his kids (the hell they weren't his), but he still recognized that look and the attitude that fueled it. Nat’s hand on his arm subdued him before he could do anything stupid; her pointed glare quite clearly informed him that Steve was taking care of the stupidity, thank you. His assistance was not needed.

“Why is it okay for you to dig up my secrets, especially against my explicitly stated wishes, but it’s wrong for me to find yours?”

The words were innocent and logical.

The voice was challenging and full of satisfaction, because he had them and they all knew it.

Until Steve spoke and they all also realized that despite their varying levels of experience and exposure, they’d vastly underestimated his ability to ignore what he didn’t want to know and rewrite reality.

“Because, son, you’re a kid who isn’t ready to handle the evil things of the world,” he told the kid so earnestly, Nat was actually offended on the teenager’s behalf. “All you should be doing is trusting us adults — trusting me as your captain — to make the decisions, especially the hard ones, and make sure you know everything you need to.”

Thor could have thrown Mjölnir from a distance of three yards and it wouldn’t have caused as much damage as that one idiotic statement.

Nat and Clint didn’t even bother warning Sam; they just backed up to he couch and went all the way around until the couch, Sam, and the coffee table were safely between them and Peter Parker, who was clearly one platitude away from nuclear meltdown.

That would solve quite a few problems, of course, but still: even Nat couldn’t believe Steve had just said that and she’d spent the last five years cultivating his ignorance for purposes just like this.

Only, you know, in situations that were a) less fraught with tension and b) ones where they were in the position of strength.

Parker just stared at Steve for what felt like days, his eyes blank and his body language not just unreadable, but untranslatable. Nat might as well be looking at blank slab of rock for all the information she was able to get from the boy now.

Rhodes, however, had no such issues, though when he stepped forward, everyone shot him a look of surprise. He’d been so still and so silent that he’d simply disappeared in the wake of Parker’s admittedly-justified contempt and subsequent dismantling of the group’s equally weak defense.

“I volunteer for mentally disabled children at VA hospitals,” he told Rogers, eyes full of disgust and a well of black hatred that was reserved solely for Steve. “I’ve worked with Justin Hammer more than once. And I would trust every single one of them to make better, smarter decisions than you.”

“Eh, just leave it, Uncle Rhodey,” Parker interjected, waving a lazy hand at the group. “He’ll refuse to understand, she’ll ignore the fact that she walked face-first into a trap designed and set just for her and try to use what we found to manipulate us, Barton will hit someone, and Wilson will sit there looking traumatized, because he doesn’t want to actively enable them anymore but he doesn’t have the balls to stand up and tell them to stop. Plus, we have them on violating three different conditions of their pardons and breaking their Accords contracts. They’re done. And you owe me a hundred bucks.”

“What?!” Clint blurted, looking astonished at himself the second the word left his mouth. Parker just looked longsuffering, but Rhodes gave him a predator’s grin that made him gulp and inch backward.

“It’s simple, Barton. We clocked you idiots trying to track Peter on patrol the second you left the Tower; so much for your vaunted ‘we can track anything’ boasts,” he sneered, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. His gaze softened as he looked down with a proud smile. “You never had a chance to find him, and that’s all him. He is very, very good at what he does. If you had any respect at all for other people, you’d’ve realized that. Your next move was obvious, because heaven forbid you just ask and the world will explode if you honor someone’s wishes and  leave them alone. So Pete and I created a fake server room and file just for you, Romanova. I remembered your habit of stealing other people’s login info because you can’t hack a firewall made by Dell, never mind Tony, and gave you exactly what you expected to find. And while we waited for you to fuck your lives up for the last time so we can finally throw you in prison where you belong, I kept Tony busy so he didn’t lose his mind and kill you for threatening his son and Pete went on a scavenger hunt.”

“For the record,” Peter interjected, smirking so malevolently that they all flinched again. “You aren’t nearly as good as you think you are. Finding your digital files — all of them — and reconstructing them took me less than five hours. It would taken an SI-level college intern about nine. And it was really boring; no hidden pieces, no booby-trapped sections. Just straight-up, standard deletion. It was a lot more challenging trying to find the new Star Wars game cheat codes."

The insult was clear and vicious, and it stung. She refused to give him a response, but that condescending dismissal of her abilities — of her — stung.

Rhodes’ chuff of amused pride made them all uncomfortable and none of them could pull their gazes from the fond, proud, paternalistic way he praised Peter. 

Then he looked up and his smile was savage and so full of hate and satisfied rage that even Steve blinked.

Rhodes didn’t speak; he closed his eyes, bowed his head, took a single deep breath, and looked at the people who had been given everything and destroyed it so completely, there wasn’t anything left but ashes.

This smile was beatific and Nat and Clint both swallowed hard, while Sam just fell against the couch cushions and whimpered softly in pure resignation. Steve bristled, but Parker suddenly moved and the next thing they all knew, thick black webs were covering their mouths, feet, and torsos.

Oh, and they were also stuck to a wall, though none of them remembered moving.

“You hurt my brother just because you could and he had something you’re incapable of earning for yourselves. And then you betrayed him and told him it was his own fault. If you have one brain cell between the four of you, you’ll realize that what's about to happen? This is mercy,” Rhodes breathed, still looking and sounding as relaxed and unconcerned as if he were out for a simple day in Central Park.

Beside him, Parker sniffed, then slowly pinned each member of Steve’s team with the same guileless look that made Clint and Nat so nervous.

“You hurt my dad, your friend, the man who would do anything for the people he cares about if they just ask. But you don’t think he deserves even that much respect, even now, after hearing how useless you all are. So Uncle Rhodey and I are gonna make sure the entire world knows your truths. These files will be released to the public within the hour. And compared to what I could do, what we should do, this is nothing. So take your punishment like grown fucking adults for the first time in your worthless lives, because if you cause one more second of trouble, the UN has already agreed to our petition to enact Final Justice. They don’t like it, but even the pacifists on the board who think prison is too harsh and wanted to stick you in a mental health spa saw the truth of who you are and were so appalled, they instantly agreed with our solution. So please, run your mouths again. Please.”

Shockingly, that cowed even Steve long enough for the pair to accept that for now, the so-called Rogue Avengers would go quietly.

And all they could do was watch, helpless, furious, and afraid, as Peter Parker and James Rhodes sauntered out of the room, exchanging high-fives as they left and Parker shouting back at them, “Sit tight! The ICC Retrieval Team will be here sometime today to formally arrest you and take you into custody. It shouldn’t take longer than six hours.”

Neither man looked back, but Peter lifted a hand and snapped his fingers once, causing the opening chords of a song to play softly throughout the room. Rhodes cocked his head to listen, then burst out laughing.

They didn’t need to stay and gloat . . . and it was painfully clear that they weren’t worth the time.

That didn’t mean they weren’t going to gloat; they just felt no need to stay and watch it.

The mediocre, unimportant, lying, stealing, hypocritical nonentities, despising the knowledge that they were already fading from adulation to infamy to insignificance, could do nothing but suffer their final humiliation in silence.

I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess
'Til all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said
Come by it honestly, I swear
Thought you saw me wink, no
I've been on the brink

~~~
fin