They all missed the compound.

Well, everyone except Scott and Barnes, who had never been. But the rest of them, Steve, Sam, Wanda, and even Clint, who had only been there a few times, they missed it. Sam could tell. He could tell when Steve paused before opening his bedroom door, knowing that inside would be a single, empty bed. He could tell when Wanda made them dinner on her cooking nights, hesitating before picking up spices. He could tell when Clint opened his mouth to the ceiling and then closed it, momentarily forgetting that there was no fully functioning AI running the house. And Sam missed it too.

He missed Stark teasing Steve about his need to wash the dishes by hand. He missed the early morning scrambles for coffee. He missed Natasha pulling knives out of nowhere and waving them dangerously in their faces. He missed waking up at three in the morning from nightmares, knowing that Vision would always be in the common room to just sit next to. He missed swapping service stories with Rhodes when he visited. He missed the small herb garden that Stark had always remembered to water, even though the plants were Wanda's. He missed how every room felt like it was full of people even when it was empty.

Here...here all the rooms were empty, even when they were full of people. Sam didn't know if the others felt that too, but he could only guess. With the way Wanda's smiles were only ever half ones now, with how Clint's signing was always slow now, and with how all of Steve's hugs were as hollow and empty as the rooms felt.

He didn't know if the other two sensed it, but Scott and Barnes seemed to. Scott, who had always been so energetic, always talking, always moving. Scott who was now quiet and seemingly unsure of how he should act, dialing back his usual self for the sake of the others. Although Sam felt that they could all use some of Scott's ever present happiness. But even that was gone now. And Barnes...well, Sam had no idea what was going through the former Hydra agent's mind.

James Buchanan Barnes went back under ice for a much shorter time than anyone thought he would have. Sam thought it would've been years, not one month. By how Barnes reacted when he woke up, he thought it would have been longer, too. None of them had thought that it would that short. Then again, none of them had thought that they'd receive a pair of glasses that could connect to someone's hippocampus, find traumatic memories, and then project said memories onto an exterior infrastructure in order to help the user through traumatic experiences. The glasses, as T'Challa, their gracious host, had informed them, were donated anonymously to the Birnin Zana Institute of Health Sciences along with a document describing their capabilities. Sam knew instantly who the anonymous donor was, and he was almost certain that Steve knew as well. Neither spoke of their knowledge, however.

No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn't get a read on Barnes. Despite the progress he had made, he still wasn't the same Bucky that Steve remembered. And Sam didn't think he ever would be. The Winter Soldier still came out sometimes, although the time between these "instances", as they were referred to as, was becoming longer each time. Barnes was quiet. He was calculating. He was cold. He smiled more and more as the months went by. He hugged Steve back once. He was improving. Yet Sam still couldn't shake the feeling that overcame him when he met those icy blue eyes. He knew that Barnes wasn't to blame for all he had done. He knew that Hydra was the cause of all those deaths (so, so many deaths). He knew those things. But Barnes had been the one to kill. Been the one to ruin Steve. Been the one to attack them in DC. Sam knew it wasn't his fault, but Jesus Christ it had been one hundred million people he'd almost ended the lives of and Sam would never forget that. Maybe Steve could forgive him for that (and so, so much more), but Sam couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

They had been in Wakanda for five months when everything came crashing down.

Wakanda was a small bubble, separated from the rest of the world. Normally Sam would have been pissed by the country's inherent opposition to interacting or sharing things with the rest of the world ("A cure for cancer, are you fucking kidding me?!"), but he was grateful for the shelter it provided. Grateful for the mist that shrouded the country, a physical representation of how they were hidden from the rest of the world. Of how they were cut off from the rest of the world. Of how they were imprisoned within four floors of a tower, the doors locked for their protection and the windows thick enough that not even the Hulk could break them.

At least this prison has AC, Sam kept telling himself.

A prison is a prison. It doesn't matter how nice the mattresses are or how fast the Wifi is, a prison is a prison.

What was the point of hiding out in a country full of wildlife, laughing and smiling people, marketplaces that only sold local, schools with the finest facilities and most competent professors, and rain that somehow looked more beautiful than any rain they'd ever seen if they couldn't even step outside?

So we can be free, he told himself. If all of this was for freedom then Sam was in dire need of a dictionary to double check the definition of the word.

Five months had passed in the prison masquerading as a palace when the bubble they had all been living peacefully in finally popped. About damn time.

Sam was called down to the main floor (the compound's main floor had had clothes strewn across the floor and Cheetos littered on the countertops, this one was cold and empty and not home) by a very panicked Scott Lang. Words about the TV and Steve and Barnes and the others and anxiety pouring from his mouth in incoherent ramblings dragged Sam to the common room more than the hand gripped firmly on his arm did.

The greetings he received upon his arrival were given through sharp teeth and thin lips. He could feel the worry and nerves radiating off of every member. He heard it in Scott's words, the ramblings never seemed to stop. He felt it in Clint's fingers, plucking his bow string and sending vibrations through the room. He tasted it in Wanda's powers, the familiar yet completely foreign metallic flavor of magic wafting from the red energy crackling around her fingers. He saw it in Steve's crossed arms, muscles pulled too tightly. He smelled it in Barnes' hair, unwashed and pulled up in haste. Sam felt nothing from T'Challa. That was the most worrying.

"What's going on?" Sam heard the panic in his own voice but couldn't manage to care. In lieu of response Scott dropped his arm and pointed at the TV, all the ramblings coming to an end.

The screen was white. Not normal, but certainly not a reason for all of this excitement. The voice that came from it was, however.

"Welcome Mr. Wilson." the unmistakable voice of Friday (oh dear Lord how he had missed that voice) greeted him. Shock and fear swept across his face, the only two emotions worthy of showing (so much joy). "Now that everyone is present we may begin."

"Begin what?" Sam asked, looking at the others for an answer. There was none.

"How did she even hack into your place?" Barnes directed his question at the King.

His answer was annoyingly simple. "Wakanda may have several renowned scientists and engineers, but the world only has one Tony Stark."

"None of this is Boss's doing," Friday stepped in. "Unless you are referring to him creating me. Then yes, there is only one Anthony Edward Stark."

Sam could see Steve tense up even more so at her words.

"Stark didn't orchestrate...whatever this is?" Clint barked, anger rolling off of him in waves.

"I am merely following Boss's programming," Friday responded, "not his orders."

Sam didn't even try to make sense of that paradox.

"And what programming would that be?" T'Challa inquired, cocking his head to one side.

"My primary objective at all times is to protect one Anthony Edward Stark," the voice supplied through the TV. Sam narrowed his eyes. This couldn't be good (five months without that voice and that name, dear Lord). "I have analyzed the situation at hand and arrived at the logical conclusion that this is the optimum method for carrying out my primary objective."

"What situation?" Steve spoke up (so much silence in those words). Worry etched itself into the lines on his forehead and settled onto his tongue.

Friday ignored him and Sam couldn't help but smile internally because it had been so long. "To carry out my objective I must activate a protocol that requires all of you to be present."

"What pro-?" Before Clint could finish his question he was cut off, rather coldly, by the AI.

"Initiating Protocol SOTERIA."

Everyone tensed even more, hands on weapons and arms up in defense. T'Challa remained calm, simply standing with his hands folded politely behind his back. The screen faded to black. A few seconds passed. And then an image formed, slowly, transparent at first, and then solid and real and memories came rushing back to Sam all at once.

Memories of late nights filled with coffee and choking laughter. Memories of grease stains covering tanks and smeared across tan skin. Memories of red and gold and bright, bright blue (don't let the blue fade). Memories of long, suffering sighs and false smiles that didn't quite reach ears. Memories of needed repairs that were never asked for yet always completed. Memories of blood and tears and bruises.

"Tony," Steve breathed. And good Lord did he sound broken.

~X~

Steve couldn't breathe. He felt cold, metal fingers (not warm and flesh, so very, very cold) wrap around his bicep, anchoring him. Slow, easy breaths. In and out. In and out.

It was Tony. He was in his lab. The one in the compound. He looked to be sitting at a desk. His head was resting on his right hand. His hair was messy, sticking up in every direction it could. He was wearing a black shirt with some band Steve did not know. Dum-E could be seen in the background. Scattered pieces of metal and tech were distributed haphazardly across the room. Steve thought he saw something resembling legs toward the left of Tony.

But it was Tony. He was real and he was there and he was alive.

"May 28, 2016, 4:48 PM," Sam read off the red timestamp in the upper left hand corner of the screen. "What is this? Friday?"

The AI provided no verbal answer. And then Tony sprang to life. He lifted his head off of his hand, it left a fastly fading red imprint on his cheek.

"First off I'd like it put on the record that this," he gestured to the air around him. His hands moving wildly in only a way that Tony could (arms shooting up in defense, repulsors glowing but not firing, why aren't they firing?), "was not my idea. It was Pepper's."

"What's happening?" Wanda asked, her voice low and cold, showing just how she felt towards the man on the screen.

"I suggest we all watch and find out," T'Challa answered quickly, just before Tony started talking again.

"It's a compromise...of sorts," Tony continued, drawing their attention back to him. "She thinks the best way for me to handle things is mandatory, bi-weekly psychiatric attention. I think I should do what I always do, live in the lab for a while and build random shit in a sleep deprived haze. Me talking to a camera about whatever's going on, with me or in general, is the in-between."

The smile that Tony gave them (the camera, really) was grim and almost inhuman. Steve felt his gut twist. Oh Tony.

"So!" The genius clapped his hands together, making Scott and Wanda jump. "What has been going on in the life of Tony Stark? Well, it's been a few weeks since...shit hit the fan."

Of course that's how Tony would describe it. Steve almost smiled. Almost.

"So obviously I've had to deal with the aftermath of that. Turns out when two super soldiers on the run from the law break four super-powered criminals out of prison and fuck off to Wakanda there's a lot of paperwork."

Sam winced at that. Steve just stood there.

"Wait, he knows where we are?!" Clint exclaimed, clutching his bow harder. No one answered him, the question of how they were still there ringing in everyone's ears.

"Lots of paperwork and lots of meetings. Many with Thaddeus Ross. Which I just love to attend, the highlight of my fucking day, let me tell you."

The sarcasm in his voice practically dripped through the TV screen.

"God that man is such an asshat. I keep telling myself that if someone were to target him I could just have some 'malfunctions' with the armor. Just look the other way. No one would know."

Bucky snorted, which made Steve smile. Wanda and Clint looked at the TV with angry confusion. Steve could guess why.

"Besides meetings with Mr. Power Trip I've had several UN meetings. Thank Thor that I live in New York because otherwise that commute would be hell. Cleaning up this mess has also been hell, by the way."

Even though Tony wasn't speaking to them, the words seemed directed right at Steve. Like a knife that plunged further and further into him. Bucky's hand never left his arm.

"I've got a lot to distract myself with, though," a small, half-smile. "Been building Rhodey some new legs. They work pretty okay, but they are far from the finished product. First step is fixing the AC. Should be easy enough."

Sam straightened up at the mention of the Colonel. He still blamed himself for the man's paralysis. He wasn't to blame. Tony isn't either.

"And I've got the Spider-Kid to look out for. Sent him a way to reach me, so I should be seeing more of him soon. I hope so, I really want to get a closer look at those webshooters of his. I think I could increase the carrying capacity a bit. He built them himself, you know. On a shoestring budget, too!"

The pride in Tony's eyes sent bittersweet waves throughout Steve's body.

"Plus he's a really great kid," Tony smiled, a real one. Small but real (so very real yet so very far away). "Other than that I just have the regular stuff going on. Stark Industries R&D, board meetings, avenging, you know...the usual. Just...more alone now, I guess."

Steve looked down.

"But hey!" Tony's louder voice jerked his head up again. "I was alone for far longer than I wasn't. I'll be fine. I always am."

The smile was not a real one. It was sad and fake and didn't reach his ears.

Tony sighed, sorrow seeping out of his being. "Friday, end recording."

The screen cut to black once more.

A beat of silence.

"What the hell was that?" Scott seemed more confused than angry.

"Friday what was that?" Sam asked, more eloquently. "How does that help you carry out your primary objective?"

There was no answer.

"Stevie, you okay?" Bucky's hand left his arm.

"Yeah," Steve breathed. "Yeah, I'm fine." Bucky didn't look like he believed him but he didn't press it.

The screen faded into another image. Again it was of Tony. And again Steve's breath caught in his throat. Tony was in the same room, this time sitting straight up in a plain white tank that was covered in grease stains. Steve swallowed painfully at such a familiar sight. The darker circles under Tony's eyes did not escape him.

"June 10, 2016, 9:32 PM," Sam read off again.

"It would probably be best if we all got comfortable," T'Challa suggested, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in front of the TV, "it seems we will be here for a while."

Steve let Bucky lead him to one of the sofas and sat down next to his friend. Sam sat on Steve's other side, his eyes never leaving the TV. Scott took the remaining chair and Clint and Wanda settled in on opposite ends of the other couch. Neither looked happy about the day's developments.

And then Tony moved.

"Would it kill UN ambassadors to smile every now and then? Or just not be boring as all fuck?" the annoyance bled through into the common room. Steve found himself both warm and cold. "These meetings are going to be the death of me.

"At least we're getting stuff done. Slowly. So. Fucking. Slowly. But hey, amending international law signed by one hundred and seventeen countries doesn't happen overnight. Actually, one hundred and twenty-three. Big thank you to Sri Lanka, Yemen, Greece, Argentina, Uruguay, and Mauritius."

Red energy flickered from Wanda's fingertips. Steve caught Sam flinching as he stared at her. Wanda didn't seem to notice (thank God).

"So far no amendments have been pushed through, but that's to be expected. Getting one hundred and ninety-three countries to agree on anything is harder than synthesizing a new element, and I speak from experience. But the Emergency Debriefing Clause seems to be agreed upon by most countries so far, except Oman and Cape Verde. Fuck you Oman and Cape Verde."

"The Emergency what now?" Scott voiced his response. T'Challa shushed him and gestured to the screen.

"We haven't posed the question of masked heros, like our friendly neighborhood Spider-Kid, but eventually we will."

Masked individuals, Steve hadn't even considered them.

"In other news that isn't about the Accords, the new hospital in Lagos in finally under construction. It's being funded by Stark Industries, of course, and the Wakandan Relief Aid. The head of that organization, Naqiba Solarin, decided on the name of it the other day. The Qurban Iweala Memorial Hospital, after the leader of the group Wakanda sent to Lagos. She said that it would be like he was still helping the people of Lagos, even after death. A nice sentiment."

It was a sad smile that followed his words. Steve saw Wanda's expression out of the corner of his eye. You can't save everyone, he had told her (oh but dear God do we try, try harder). Luckily Clint was there to rest a reassuring hand on the young girl's shoulder. Steve silently thanked him.

"A large donation has been been made to the Leipzig/Halle Airport and the hospital bills of five Bucharestian policemen have been paid off. Both expenses from my personal account, not through Stark Industries. The funeral for the sixth injured police officer, Nicolæ Iarna, was also paid for. Turns out that you can't just get up and walk away after getting slammed with a battering rod. Guy only lasted two days."

Bucky stiffened next to Steve and all he could do was squeeze his hand in way of comfort (I don't do that anymore, do you?).

"One of the hospitalized officers doesn't look like he's going to make it, either," Tony's sad smile fell to reveal a sorrowful expression. Some of the others, like Scott and Wanda, seemed surprised by the genuine emotions on his face. Steve wasn't though. Tony had always been genuine (he told the truth, he never lied, but didn't he once?). "I also got in touch with King T'Challa." Glances of shock directed themselves towards the Black Panther. "He was more than happy to help me cover the damages for the people whose insurance wouldn't cover that mad car chase in the tunnel. Luckily only one man is in the hospital, again, paid for, and he should be out soon enough."

T'Challa looked slightly guilty, just like Steve felt.

"I think that's enough philanthropy for one day," Tony sighed, "or, you know, one month. Not that I'll ever stop, far from it. But that stuff is exhausting in its own way. Especially hiding the more personal matters from the press, which is proving more and more difficult. Even as I say all of this I have something else in the works. Something bigger, hopefully better. Gonna take a lot of coordinating though, I'll give an update when it's actually underway. Friday end recording."

Cut to black.

"I...I had no idea he was doing all of that," Sam commented quietly.

"Me neither," Scott whispered. Clint scoffed.

"Please, he's just doing it to cover his ass," the archer sneered. "It's all just one big publicity stunt."

"He's doing it to cover our asses," Bucky glared at Clint, surprising everyone. Steve's best friend wasn't usually very vocal, or opinionated. "He wasn't even in Lagos or Bucharest."

T'Challa nodded in agreement and Sam added, "Yeah, and you heard what he said, he's trying to hide most of this from the press. How could that be a publicity stunt?"

Clint merely narrowed his eyes and turned back to the currently black TV.

"We don't know that any of that is true anyway," Wanda's voice was small but powerful, cutting right to Steve. "For all we know Stark is behind all of this and Friday is lying."

Before anyone could answer her the screen faded to show Tony once more. This time in a thin sweater, his neck stretching to the his left side, eyes screwed shut.

"June 23, 2016, 5: 17 PM," Sam said. No one spoke while they waited for Tony to move.

He stayed in the same position for a few seconds, before stretching his neck to the other side. A few more seconds and he let his head fall and opened his eyes (beautiful brown) to stare at the camera.

"Spider-Kid finally decided to visit," he started, laughter in his voice (oh God how he'd missed that laughter). "Apparently he was busy with school. Which I think is code for 'I'm an awkward teenager who was too scared to talk on the phone', seeing as he was let out of school weeks ago, but I'll take what I can get."

The smile stretched across his face made Steve's insides sick and his skin run cold. He hadn't seen that smile in so damn long.

"That kid is so damn awkward, it's almost hilarious," Tony chuckled (don't let that laughter die). "The number of times I told him to call me Tony in the past five hours instead of Mr. Stark is ridiculous. "

Steve's gut twisted once more. He turned and saw Bucky eyeing the screen with more intensity than he had before (You have a metal arm?! That's awesome, dude!).

"I was right about the webshooters," Tony continued, fiddling with the end of his sleeve. Steve recognized the movement. "The design itself is rather spectacular, especially for someone his age." His voice faltered slightly here. "We took them apart and he took me on a little tour. Amazing stuff. The carbon nanotubes that he made? Way better than anything currently on the market."

There was that proud smile again. And Steve's pain.

"With his previous design he could carry about three point one four cubic millimeters in each wrist. It doesn't sound like a whole lot, but it's carbon nanotubes. Come on," Tony smirked. "But, because I'm me, I was able to increase the carry capacity even more! You see, our little spider was using Teflon as his turbine component. Although it does the job, and is affordable to a high school student, you have to sacrifice space for the high resistance to chemicals. And considering that the rest of the shooters are steel, resistance isn't really an issue. So, chlorotrifluoroethylene seemed the best alternative. It's still pretty chemically resistant, but it's also stronger, stiffer, and, best of all, injection moldable and extrudable. Which means it can, with the right amount of focus and tools, take up less space. So say hello to four and a half cubic millimeters of carbon nanotubes per webshooter!"

Tony grinned triumphantly and gave them (the camera) jazz hands. The living room was silent.

"Alright I have an engineering degree and I only understood half of that," Scott stated.

"I...dude I don't know," Sam sighed. "It's Stark, give up all hope of understanding a single word that comes out of his mouth." (Oh God did I try, try harder).

Tony blew a strand of hair out of his face (so tired). "On top of that I also replaced his chrome steel turbine bearings with amber and sapphire. Much more durable. And expensive. Kid wouldn't shut up about how he didn't want me spending all this money on him."

Steve managed a small smile at this, that was Tony. Selfishly generous. A walking contradiction. Steve felt warm and cold again.

"Speaking of science!" the genius cried, spinning around in his chair, rolling to the corner of the screen. "What? Dum-E, no! What have we said about touching things without asking first? Shoo!" A dejected robot trailed across the screen, no doubt going to the corner. Steve caught Sam smiling at this. Onscreen, Tony was rummaging around somewhere they couldn't quite see until he shouted victoriously and rolled back to the desk. He had whatever he had found lying across his lap, unseen by the group in Wakanda. Tony adjusted the camera, either zooming out or moving it, Steve couldn't tell.

"Ta-da!" the billionaire grinned, heaving two prosthetic leg braces onto the table. Sam flinched. "Rhodey's new legs! Well, sort of. He's already got a pair, but these are much better. Fixed the AC. I was right, it was easy. The hard part is the power consumption. See, they aren't exactly neuroprosthetics, but similar enough. The other pair are just regular, well, me regular, braces. These come with an implanted receiver-stimulator, an external position sensor (most likely gonna go on the knee), and a terminal electrode. Basically the same as other neuroprosthetics. But these," he gestured to the braces in front of him, "these aren't meant to restore limb movement like neuroprosthetics are, they're just meant to work as a limb would work. Because movement restoration in this scenario is, well...highly unlikely."

Here Tony's excited smile fell (no, no, no, it had been so long, it's not fair) and was replaced with a grimace that did not hide his devastation well.

"But…," he took a minute to compose himself. Steve's gut twisted, "but Rhodey can walk. Not very well. He falls down a lot. He needs help. He can't go more than a few feet at a time. He has to hold onto something most of the time. He uses the wheelchair almost always. But he can walk. He can. And these are going to help him."

The genius smiled a small smile. One that Steve could not return. Tony cleared his throat and continued.

"But yeah, power usage! I'm thinking of going the inductive coupling route, what they're currently using in electric toothbrushes. It'll have to be tweaked for my purposes, obviously, but that shouldn't be too hard. After I get them working for Rhodey we'll start mass producing them. The tech can easily be applied to other types of paralysis, and eventually for amputees as well. And I have enough experience with Cl-Barton's cochlear implants to greatly improve that type of prosthetic. In fact, with the new receiver-stimulator I've developed they can probably be made about...four times better. Pretty soon we'll have a whole new prosthetics department of Stark Industries!"

The grin was back, not as bright and beautiful as before. But it was back (he's real, he's real, he's real).

"Well," Tony raised his eyebrows, "I should probably be getting these designs to R&D. And Pepper needs to meet with me about that project I mentioned last time. And after that I need to make Spider-Kid his own security code and pass to the compound. I hope he comes around more often, he's a good kid. We could all do with a little more Peter in our lives."

Peter, the name echoed throughout Steve's mind. It suited the red and blue clad teenager (just a kid).

"Friday?" Another big grin. "End recording."

~X~

Bucky wasn't sure what to make of Stark. He hadn't known the man like the others had, in fact, the only real interaction he'd had with the man had been when they'd been trying to kill each other (I don't do that anymore). Everything else he knew about Iron Man was from the reactions when his name was mentioned: Clint's angry grumblings, Wanda's pulsing red energy, Sam's conflicted expression, Scott's crossed arms, T'Challa's small smile, and Steve's downcast gaze. Other than that, nothing.

The videos, however, were something. He immediately could tell that Tony was indeed Howard Stark's son. He rambled on about science and technology that Bucky could never even hope to understand in the exact same way that Howard had done. But he wasn't Howard (metal against skin, over and over and over), Howard was gone. And Tony wasn't him.

Stark was something entirely different. And Bucky didn't know what to make of him. Of the videos. Stark didn't like Ross, apparently. He donated to charities and started his own. He looked after the kid (too young, far too young). He built his friend new legs. But what the videos did to Steve was the most telling.

His friend looked like a shell of himself, delicate and fragile and cracking down the middle. And Bucky didn't remember how to comfort him.

"How old do you think that kid is?" Sam asked, breaking the silence as the screen returned to black.

T'Challa shrugged, "Tony referred to him as a teenager, a high school student. I'd say around sixteen."

Jesus that was too young. The rest of the room seemed to agree, then the TV faded to another still image.

It was Stark again, not surprisingly. Only he looked different this time. He looked...tired. He was wearing a dark blue jacket, zipped up halfway to reveal a gray shirt underneath. His head was in his hands and his hair looked greasy and unkempt.

"June 28, 2016, 11:56 PM." The timestamps were starting to feel like a countdown (to what?). The familiar silence draped over them until the man on the screen moved.

Stark raised his head from his hands slowly, dragging his fingertips across his skin before letting his arms fold atop the desk. His eyes were hollow and so very, very tired. The man didn't speak for a while, merely stared at the camera as if he could see right through it. When he finally did speak it was with an empty voice, unlike the lively one that Bucky had grown accustomed to in the brief viewing period so far.

"I donated the BARF technology to Wakanda." That had everyone sitting upright, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Except Sam. Sam's eyes were knowing and happy (so much joy in such a sad place). "Really just the glasses, but I explained how to use them. Gave them to one of their top universities. T'Challa's bound to be notified of their arrival. And he'll know who made them. Binarily Augmented Retro Framing...if anything can unprogram a Winter Soldier it's that."

Bucky was aware of his open mouth. "It was him?" No one responded, but he felt Steve's hand in his, squeezing tightly for assurance.

Stark kept talking, picking up speed as he went. "Some of them will figure out it's me who sent them. If any of them bothered to watch the MIT Alumni presentation, they'll know. My money's on Wilson." A small smile from Falcon. "But most of them won't know. Good. I'd rather they not."

Bucky saw Steve frown at this. He knew.

Tony sighed deeply, burying his head in his hands once more. It was a while before he lifted it once more. "I know it's not his fault." Bucky blinked. "I know it's not. The rational, logical part of my brain knows it's not. It was Hydra's fault. They brainwashed him. They made him the Winter Soldier. The rational, logical part of my brain knows that Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier are not the same person."

Another deep sigh. The genius' eyes looked so tired (the light was fading).

"But…," Tony trailed off, "but the irrational, emotional part of my brain doesn't know that." An empty smile. "Because they both have the same face. They have the same body. The same hands that…"

The billionaire drew in a deep breath, pain flickering across his features. Bucky felt guilt clench his stomach in a tight fist (the light was fading, save it).

"The same hands that I can't stop seeing close around my mother's throat and I just-," Tony didn't finish the thought. He drew his left hand across his face and rested his mouth against his fist. He gazed off into the distance, looking at something that the ragtag group of superheros could not see. He took a few deep breaths (they'll be your last). "I can't not see that when I see him or think about him. H-he...he killed my mom. How can I just move on from that?"

He threw up his hand at this last sentence, bringing his head up from where it was resting. The look Tony gave the camera was distressed, searching for an answer that was not to be found there.

"How can I forgive him for that? How can...How can Steve-?" he cut himself off, as if the very name rendered him mute. Bucky squeezed Steve's hand now. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now. I don't know what I'm supposed to do right now."

He gave another empty smile and Bucky suddenly wished he could give him the answer. But he couldn't What was one supposed to do in this situation? (clawing for the bright, bright blue, don't let the blue fade).

"I know how I feel though," Tony murmured, suddenly quiet. "Whether or not I'm supposed to feel that way… I feel like I want to rip my hair out. Like I want to scream into a pillow for five hours straight. Like I want to punch someone really hard right now. Don't know who...probably Rogers." Stevie don't cry. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, but I've been working. On the Accords. With Ross. On new tech. On my own projects. I'm...I'm keeping busy."

Bucky didn't know Stark very well, but he knew enough that "keeping busy" wasn't a good sign.

"I...I don't know why I sent them the glasses," Stark gazed into the camera, his eyes boring into Bucky's soul. "But I think that...that maybe with the Winter Soldier gone, I'll be able to forgive Bucky Barnes. Maybe. Not now, definitely not anytime soon, but maybe someday. Maybe."

(Sergeant Barnes?) And Bucky realized that maybe someday he could forgive Stark, too (for what, though? He doesn't know).

"Well…," Stark cleared his throat, "I think that's enough for now. Friday...end recording."

Cut to black once more. Bucky could see his reflection in the TV (cold metal on flesh, snap).

"You knew?" Barton directed the question at Sam, not exactly hostile but not entirely friendly.

"I had my suspicions," Wilson admitted, glancing at Steve. "Who else could've made it?"

T'Challa nodded, "Mr. Stark was correct, I knew from the start."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Steve asked him.

"He did not want you to know," was the only reply he got.

All heads swivelled when Bucky finally spoke. "The MIT thing was before...'shit hit the fan', right?" Nods. "So all of this could've been sorted out a lot sooner, if maybe we'd just…" He trailed off, not sure what he was saying.

"Just what?" Barton scoffed. "Followed Stark?" Wanda sneered beside him.

"Not followed, no," Bucky locked eyes with Steve, "just...listened. To Stark, I mean."

Steve looked away. No one responded to that. And then the screen faded.

There was Stark again, only this time looking as Bucky had always pictured him. He was wearing a suit, or at least part of one. The jacket was nowhere to be seen. His hair was immaculate. His skin free from grime. And he was smiling. A bright, true, real smile.

"July 1, 2016, 7:04 PM."

When the video started this time, Stark didn't just move, he came to life. His smile grew even more and his hands flew up in a gesture of celebration.

"Today is a good day!" He proclaimed loudly, startling Steve. "Today is a wonderful, glorious, perfect fucking day. You wanna know why? Because after almost two months of intergovernmental organizational gridlock we finally got something done! That's right my friends, the Emergency Debriefing Clause has passed!"

"Maybe we'll be given an explanation this time…," Scott grumbled, slouching further into his chair. T'Challa sent a small smile at the engineer and focused his attention on the screen.

"Oman caved a few weeks ago, but Cape Verde was being a real stick in the fucking mud for a while there," Stark gave the camera pointed look, tilting his head. "Don't really know why, Cape Verde's always been pretty chill. Except for that drug thing a while back, but that wasn't really their government's fault. Honestly, their Representative, Fernando Jorge Wahnon Ferreira" Jesus. "seemed as done with President Fonseca as the rest of us were. Something about giving too much power to the Security Council, I dunno. The Council already has complete veto power, giving them this power doesn't really add a whole lot."

"The Security Council?" Bucky asked, directing the question to Steve. It was T'Challa who answered him when the man who'd fought the UN didn't.

"The UN Security Council, yes," the king started. "It consists of the United States, Great Britain, France, China, and Russia, along with ten rotating members. Those permanent members have veto power over any new resolutions."

Bucky nodded at this explanation and tried not to think about why Steve hadn't given the answer (do you know what you fight for? Not anymore).

"I think we can thank François Delattre for Cape Verde finally agreeing, switching the Council presidency from Egypt to France certainly helped. Not that I have anything against Amr Abdellatif Aboulatta! He does a great job as chairmen for the Counter-Terrorism Committee, just that Delattre is better suited for representing the Council to the rest of the UN when it comes to international law seeing that he...has a degree...in international law," Tony gestured with his hands in an it's-very-obvious type way. "But starting today Japan is heading the Council, so we'll see how Mr. Bessho does. I'm sure he's fine. Japan's great! They've got anime and Nintendo and...book shaped pillows. And Bessho...was head of the Northeast Asia Division of the Foreign Ministry, nice."

Stark seemed to be reading off of something the rest of them couldn't see.

"Explanation," Scott quietly whined.

"But yeah, Emergency Debriefing Clause! I would call it the EDC but that's already some crazy ass techno music festival," Tony frowned briefly at this. Bucky smirked. "It's a pretty complicated amendment to the Accords, but I'll do my best to...decipher the pages upon pages of intricate legalese that are the Emergency Debriefing Clause. For documentation purposes and for my own sanity."

"Yesssss, finally," Lang hissed from where he was practically buried in the armchair.

"So one of the glowing red weak spots of the Sokovia Accords is time. Time and decisions," Stark began. All present leaned forward, more than ready to hear what the genius had to say. "What if the panel can't get together in time? What if whatever country-that's-being-attacked's leader is unreachable? What if the panel just can't decide? What if we don't agree with the panel's decision? There's just a lot that could end in sad times for everyone involved."

Steve's eyes were wide. Bucky couldn't read minds like Wanda could, but he knew what his friend was thinking (if maybe we'd just listened…).

"But then again, no document is perfect. Amendments, clauses, and exceptions must be added," Stark continued as those watching grew more and more surprised. "That's where the Emergency Debriefing Clause comes in. Now, the UN panel hasn't been chosen yet, so the Avengers are currently operating under the Representatives of the permanent members of the Security Council, which is less than ideal. Once the panel is chosen things should run a lot smoother.

"The Clause basically gives the Avengers the ability to act on their own, unanimous decisions. Should all members deem a situation dire enough that immediate response is necessary, then they, we, can intervene."

Scott sat upright, "Wait, what? Was that always on the table?" He glanced wildly around the room, but no one offered up an answer. Bucky saw Steve look down, realization dawning on his face. Stevie.

"That's the simple explanation, the actuality of this whole matter is a lot more complicated than two sentences," Stark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Let's start with the first question, shall we? The UN panel won't actually have to be together to make a decision, 'cause, you know, we have phones and shit nowadays. But there will undoubtedly be a time when they won't be able to all be available at the drop of a hat. The way the Accords are drafted doesn't specify a number of individuals on the panel, just that it's ruled by a majority vote, not a unanimous decision.

"Should a scenario like that arise, then the Avengers have the right to a unanimous decision to do...whatever it is we need to do. There isn't a specific time allotted for this, that depends on the situation. But once it becomes evident that the panel is not reachable, the decision passes onto the Avengers. Another possibility is that the leader of the country isn't reachable. What is necessary then is for the majority of the panel to agree and for the Permanent Representative of that country, with permission from the next highest ranking official under their leader, to agree as well.

"Next, what if the panel can't decide? Again, the number of panel members is yet to be determined, but it should be an odd number. Majority rule, like I said. So say the panel is eleven members, then we'd just have to wait for at least six of them to agree. The panel members don't even necessarily have to talk to one another, although that would be ideal, they can literally just text us a yes or no answer. But should the situation arise where a decision, for whatever reason, can't be made, the decision once again falls to the Avengers. Unanimous vote. Hopefully with the permission of the country, if they can be reached.

"And lastly, the big one, what if we don't agree with the panel's decision? First part of this is that if the leader of the country doesn't agree with the panel, then their decision overrides that of the panel. So if the panel says no but, I don't know, Kazakhstan or some shit says yes, then we take that as a yes. If we disagree with the panel's decision and the country agrees or is unreachable, that's where it gets tricky. The unreachable thing is actually highly likely, considering what the issue could be that we have to go deal with. If the panel says no and we disagree, then the unanimous vote can be used."

Tony took another deep breath. Bucky was surprised that one man could talk that fast.

"In all of these situations the hardest part to deal with is the aftermath," Stark resumed his speech. "Here's where the Debriefing part of the Emergency Debriefing Clause comes in. Anytime the Avengers use a unanimous vote, there must be an immediate debriefing session right afterward. All panel members, the leader of the country along with their Permanent Representative, and the Security Council must be present. Or, at least those on that list that are available. A complete account of the mission will be given to the group, along with recorded comm audio and any video footage.

"After the debrief is over all of this information will be presented to a subcommittee of experts from the General Assembly's First Committee, the Disarmament and International Security Committee. That subcommittee, the full Security Council, the panel, and the country's Permanent Representative with their leader's guidance will have to reach a two-thirds decision as to the success of the mission. The subcommittee is the main player in this, assessing the damage done and lives saved, ultimately using their knowledge of military strategy and tactics to evaluate the overall performance. After the decision is made of whether or not intervention and use of the unanimous vote was necessary, the Security Council will be the ultimate decider on what is to be done. If the decision is in our favor then yay, we can all go home. If it's not, then the Security Council gets to determine the extent of repercussions. Whether it be some kind of fine or detainment, the judgement is theirs. The panel can add their thoughts on the matter as well, but the end decision is the Council's."

Silence had once again fallen across the room in Wakanda, like a stiff blanket that strangled them all. Scott's mouth was agape, his eyes wide. Barton's brow was furrowed and his hands were clenched into fists. Wanda's legs curled tightly under her, her red energy nowhere to be seen. Wilson couldn't seem to look at the screen and his bottom lip was stuck between his teeth. T'Challa didn't look at all surprised, his hands folded neatly in his lap. Steve stared intently at the man on the screen, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt repeatedly.

And Bucky? Bucky couldn't look away from the TV. Couldn't look away from the man who resembled Howard Stark (metal on flesh, blood covering silver titanium) yet wasn't him. This grinning, euphoric man who wasn't at all like the others had made him seem. This man with a blinding smile and shadowed eyes, hiding horrors unseen (My mama was right, there's blues in the night). Bucky wasn't sure what to make of Stark. But he was starting get an idea.

"And that, my friends, is the Emergency Debriefing Clause," Stark leaned back in his chair, proud grin stretched across his face. "It's been two and a half months in the making, but it's finally here. It can't be fully implemented until the panel members are finalized, but it's here and it's real and it's something. And it's going to work. It's not going to be perfect, they'll be kinks to work out. But nothing is perfect. This is...better though. We're living with what we have and we're going to make this work. We have to. And this" Stark picked up a thick stack of papers that had been resting on the table, out of their view "is a start. We've still got a lot to accomplish. Have to introduce the revision on masked heros, challenge the detainment without trial part, bring up the question of minors, and so much more."

At least he's doing something, Bucky couldn't help but think as he looked around their carpeted cage.

"But, I made a promise to Peter," Tony wiggled his eyebrows. "Once the Clause was passed I would take a break. A small break, not even one day, but a break. For him. He says I work too hard. So I'm going to finish up these designs for a four-in-one fidget cube and I'm off to...relax. And by relax I mean head over to Queens and help that kid with his AP Physics homework, not like he needs it, and turn in early."

The billionaire smiled a different smile. It was smaller, not as bright, but just as happy and somehow conveyed more emotion than any of his others so far.

"Today is a good day," Stark said, as if to himself, before glancing up at the ceiling. "Friday, end recording."

The screen turned black once more.

A beat of silence.

"He...he did all that?" Lang spoke first, his shock still clear on his face.

T'Challa nodded. "Wait, you knew?" Barton leaned forward.

"Of course," T'Challa sounded almost offended, "Wakanda's Permanent Representative, Cebesa, was essential in getting the Clause passed, along with Mr. Stark."

"So Tony...he planned all of that?" Steve spoke, his voice low and modest.

"Yes, Mr. Stark proposed the original draft of the Clause," T'Challa confirmed.

"And that was always on the table?" Scott repeated his question from earlier, his voice distraught.

It was Steve who answered, "Sort of. Amendments were...offered, after signing that is. Nothing that specific but-" Stevie.

"But they were offered?" Barton's expression was unreadable. Steve nodded. Barton turned away from his leader (former? You can't lead a team of nothing). Steve swallowed hard as Scott turned back to the TV, as Wanda stared at her hands in what could only be read as distress, and as Sam shot him a disbelieving glare.

Bucky didn't squeeze his hand. The screen faded.

Stark was now wearing a dark gray robe, his hair wet and wild.

Sam's voice was hollow, "July 6, 2016, 8:12 AM." (Tick tock, goes the clock, the end is drawing near) It seemed to take longer than usual for Stark to move, for the image to turn into a video. The tense bodies that filled (emptied) the room caused the TV screen to remain stagnant for a long while. Until Stark moved, barely bringing his head up.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," the genius began, his voice giving nothing away. "About the past, and the present, and the future, too. Basically all your three times. But especially the past. What happened, how we got here. That kinda thing."

Bucky had been thinking of those things as well.

"And a lot about Ultron," Tony didn't smile here. Bucky knew of Ultron, he'd seen what happened in Sokovia on TV and Steve had told him. "You think you know when the worst thing in your life happens. You think to yourself 'Well, it can't possibly get much worse than this, now can it?' And you're always wrong. Or at least I always am."

Bucky felt Steve shift next to him on the couch. He couldn't bring himself to look at his friend.

"First time was my parents' deaths," the man on the screen raised both eyebrows. Bucky flinched involuntarily. "Then Afghanistan happened and I knew I was wrong. Thought I was right that time, I wasn't. Palladium poisoning proved me wrong. Then New York happened and I thought 'Well, surely nothing can top getting sucked into a wormhole and almost dying?' Wrong. Thinking Pepper was dead, that was worse. Finding her alive and losing her anyway, that hurt, too. Less, but still."

Steve didn't make a noise at the mention of Pepper and Tony, but Bucky could feel the tension. Feel his friend's emotions like he had always been able to.

"And then I created a murderous robot hellbent on destroying the Earth and I was so sure that I had reached it. The worst thing," Tony grimaced. "I was wrong. Because I'm always wrong about that thing. And I'm wrong right now, I have to be. But I can't imagine what's going to top this last worst thing. I don't want to. Because surely nothing can be worse than what I'm feeling right now."

And now Bucky did take Steve's hand. Took it as the Captain's head fell and as he could no longer look at the man on the screen. (Stormy weather, stormy weather, and I just can get my poor self together) Bucky did look though, and the way Stark appeared looked as broken as Steve probably felt.

"But I can imagine it. Because I saw it. Wanda showed me," Stark flashed a vacant smile, pillaged of any joy. All heads turned to the Scarlet Witch, whose eyes grew wide and whose hands started to shake. "And it's definitely worse."

Bucky saw Sam's head shoot up, eyes wide with unspoken knowledge, as if remembering something that Bucky did not know.

"I...I never told anyone," the billionaire looked down at his hands, "not even...not even Rogers." A flinch. Stevie don't cry. "I sort of told Nick. But who knows where he is right now. 'I'm just an old man, who cares very much about you.' Then where are you, huh Fury? So much for caring…."

Barton tensed at this. Bucky had never met the old SHIELD director, besides trying to kill him in DC. But he knew that Barton had known him, better than the others had.

"Ultron was on me. I take full responsibility, for creating him and for not telling the others. My fault," Stark frowned. "But...but I never told them the reason. What was it I said to Bruce? 'I see a suit of armor around the world'? I tried to explain, tried to tell the others why we needed Ultron but...I've never been very good at saying what I mean. Words aren't always my forte."

Bucky didn't know if he believed that. From all he'd seen so far, Stark seemed to be good with words (and empty words are evil).

"I'm not a poet, I'm a mechanic. And mechanics build things, so I built a monster." (If you insist on saying that I'm just a problem child, you're gonna get all my attention) Steve's hand fell from his and Bucky spared a glance at his friend. Head in his hands, breath ragged, and knees trembling. Stevie. "He wasn't supposed to be one though. He was...he was supposed to protect them. Because I-I can't watch them die. Not again. Not for real."

Steve looked up from his hands. Wanda's eyes grew even wider. Bucky didn't miss the crackling red energy dancing around her fingernails.

"That's what she showed me," Tony stared directly into the camera, his gaze somehow looking right at each of them. "All of them, dead. Except me. And right before Steve...right before he died he told me, he told me that it was my fault. That I could have saved them. Could have done more. Asked me why I didn't."

Bucky grabbed Steve's hand, not caring when the other man tried to yank it away. He squeezed it tight and saw Wilson's hand on Steve's knee, reassuring and present. Bucky didn't miss the looks that were shot at Wanda as she stared at the screen in horror.

"Ultron was...he was supposed to stop that from happening," Tony's face was distressed, regrets and what-ifs etched into the wrinkles by his eyes. "I was supposed to create a suit of armor that the world could wear, to protect everyone from what's out there. They didn't see what's out there but I did! In the-in the wormhole, I saw it! There's so much out there. Nick was right, we can't go up against something like that. Steve said that we'd lose together but losing means dying and I can't watch them die."

Bucky saw Wanda squeeze her eyes shut, heard Barton's sharp breath, saw Lang's hand cover his face, heard Sam swallow loudly, saw T'Challa look on in dismay. Felt Steve break next to him.

Onscreen Tony seemed to be fighting off tears. "I can't. And if they do...it'll be my fault. Because I didn't protect them. Because I didn't do enough. I mean, look how close we've come! Ultron almost killed all of them! He killed Wanda's brother" a strangled noise "and scared Bruce off! And the Accords scared everyone away! All because I didn't do more. I'm supposed to protect them but how can I do that when they're seven thousand miles away?! I can't protect them if they're out there."

"Oh Tony," Steve's voice was small and broken and Bucky couldn't remember how to comfort him.

"I've always been shit at protecting people anyway, so it shouldn't matter," Tony smirked, painful and gut-wrenching. "Couldn't protect Pepper, she left because I tried, couldn't protect Happy, couldn't protect Rhodey. Couldn't protect Wanda…"

The mentioned girl looked on in confusion mixed with understanding. As if she knew the truth yet couldn't accept it (It's a sin to tell a lie, millions of hearts have been broken just because these words were spoken).

Stark was quiet for a minute. His eyes mirrored Steve's, warm brown sorrow and clear blue grief. "Do you know what the name Wanda means?" Silence. "It means 'wanderer'. Makes sense. If you think about it." Silence. "What did Roman Payne say? 'To wander is to be alive'? 'She was a wanderess, a drop of free water. She belonged to no man and to no city'."

All eyes flickered between Wanda and the screen.

"A wanderess…," Tony mused to himself. "You can't keep a wanderess locked up, can you? You can't protect a wanderess, when wandering keeps her alive. You can't keep her safe, no matter how hard you try. And Goddamnit did I try."

The red energy blinked and faded in Wanda's hands.

"I tried to keep her safe, from everything. From the world. A world that is cold and very, very angry. A world that doesn't care if you're a kid," he stopped here. Stark swallowed, his eyebrows drawing tightly together. "But she's not a kid. She's an adult. Peter, Peter is a kid. A kid that I dragged into a battle. It doesn't matter if I thought it wouldn't get as bad as it did, I brought him there. I gave him a new suit, but I brought him there. I told him to stay on the outside, to only play defense, told him Roger's weaknesses, told him what he was fighting for on that flight, sent him home as soon as he got hurt, but I brought him there. Jesus Christ, he's sixteen. What was I thinking?!"

I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart! The words echoed in Bucky's mind.

"I couldn't protect Wanda from the world. Tried to keep her safe in one prison, one that was better than the Raft. I couldn't protect her from that though," Stark shook his head. All the confusion was gone from Wanda's eyes, only understanding remained. Understanding, regret, and pain. "And I couldn't protect Peter. Couldn't keep him safe, couldn't stop him from being hurt. I can't protect him from the world, either. But Goddamnit will I try."

Stark rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Friday, girl? End the recording please."

Cut to black.

A few beats of silence.

"He's right," Wanda didn't look at any of them.

"Wanda, you know that-" she cut Clint off, glaring at him with eyes full of unshed tears.

"I showed him that. I showed him all of his friends dying because of him," her voice trembled. Sam winced and Steve looked lifeless. "He may have been the one to make Ultron, but I gave him the idea. If he is the mechanic then I am the architect. Ultron, and all of his destruction, was as much my fault as it was Stark's. Yet he took all the blame."

"Wanda that's not true," Barton told her, his voice that of a concerned father.

"Yes it is," Wanda looked at Steve now. "All of you forgave me, but you never really forgave him."

No one responded to her words.

Bucky didn't know what to make of Stark. But he was starting to get an idea. (Will the circle be unbroken? By and by, lord, by and by)

~X~

Wanda could not forgive Stark, not yet. One day she knew that she would (Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, and cold hands folded over a still heart). But not yet. She understood now, that was what mattered. And she was sorry. Whether or not Stark would ever forgive her, she did not know.

The image that was now displayed on the screen was of Stark in a red shirt, the Millennium Falcon detailed on the fabric.

"July 18, 2016, 4:35 PM," Sam read the numbers off, his voice low and unsure. They waited for Stark to move, and, as always, he did.

"Well, I said I'd give an update when it was underway," the genius smiled, "and now it is."

Scott's head tilted to the side and T'Challa remained still.

"Pepper is currently on her way to deliver a press conference about the whole thing," Stark continued, the smile never leaving his face. "As CEO she has to deal with that kind of thing now, more than I do. Thank the Lord, PR is always a fucking nightmare. Freedom of the press is for the birds, let me tell you."

Wanda heard Barnes chuckle.

"Anyway, update. Stay on track Tony," he directed the last sentence at himself. "I mentioned this a bit when I was rambling on about charities and hospital bills and all that shit. A pet project I've been working on. Something to keep me busy, something big and something that could possibly work. Something good. At least I think so."

A small smile followed these words, half sad, half hopeful (When everything felt at loss, Hope stayed, even though fleeing would be easier).

"But now it's finished. And it, is the Charlie Spencer Foundation," a bright grin. "We decided on the name about a month ago."

"Who?" Lang asked.

He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia. Wanda's hands gripped her skirt, bunching up the fabric between her delicate fingers. She didn't answer Scott.

"I got in contact with Charlie's mother, Miriam, a little while after shit hit the fan. She wasn't...happy to hear from me, the opposite actually. I mean, I essentially killed her son, so…."

Not just Stark, Wanda found herself thinking.

"But she agreed to meet with me. We talked, I listened and so did she. No press, no board members, no politicians. Just us. I told her all about the Accords, the amendments we were making, the progress we've made. She told me about her job at the State Department. I told her about Leipzig and Siberia. She told me about her son and her family. It was...it was nice. I think we began to understand each other then. She didn't forgive me, I didn't expect her to."

Wanda felt herself smiling slightly at this, not maliciously, but thoughtfully. Regret pressed harshly on her heart and tugged on the corners of her mouth (Guilt is always inbuilt, arises out of remorse and felt).

"We've continued talking since then," Stark flicked a finger down the tip of his nose. "Some phone calls, some coffees and brunches. I wouldn't say we're friends, not yet, but colleagues, yes. Shortly after we starting talking I told her about this idea of mine. And she, for some reason, agreed to help me. She's already got a busy schedule, but she offered to help. I haven't thanked her nearly enough for that."

Wanda felt as though she hadn't thanked Stark at all. He had taken her in, given her friends, given her a purpose, given her a home (she ran away from home, did she get to come back?). And what had she given him? She didn't want to answer that question.

"And with her help, and Pepper's, and King T'Challa's, and Stark Industries', it's here," Stark smiled again, half hopeful, half joyful. Wanda stole a glance at the King and saw a similar smile on his face. "A public foundation, mainly funded by Stark Industries and the Wakandan government. After the press release we're hoping to get several other backers, other corporations and maybe a grant from the US government. With Miriam's job that should be possible.

"But what does this foundation do? I'm so glad you asked! The foundation's mission statement is to help those affected by the actions of enhanced individuals across the globe through relief aids, donations, and a fuckton of other things."

Wanda heard a soft gasp from Sam and turned to see him staring in awe at the TV. Steve looked as he had expected nothing less from the genius billionaire. She felt as though she should have expected this as well (It shouldn't have to be this way, this world isn't black and white, it's gray).

"To start things off the main focus of the foundation will be helping to rebuild Sokovia," Stark said. Wanda involuntarily brought a hand up to her mouth. "It's fitting, with the name. And it also has taken the largest amount of damage recently. We'll start by organizing a relief aid, headed by Jeffrey Thompkins, who lead the group Charlie was originally a part of, and Jayla Ladha, now former head of Stark Industries' nonprofit sector. The CEO of the foundation was appointed one week ago, Ms. Mathilda Kearney, and so have several other positions. All of which have been filled by very competent and reliable people that I myself have approved along with Mr. Sabelo Donsa, the current Wakandan Agency for International Development Administrator."

Wanda looked at T'Challa and was not surprised to see him wearing a proud smile. She wondered just how close the Black Panther and Iron Man had become ever since the Avengers had gone their separate ways.

"Although the main focus will be on Sokovia, the foundation's going to be much more than that," Stark continued onscreen. "It's going to span over any superhuman related damages, even those not caused by the Avengers. Other projects will include reconstruction, helping the newly homeless and jobless, and collaborating with the government to assess who should pay for what damages. A big part of the foundation is going to be governmental cooperation, just like the Accords. This isn't just going to be an American organization, it's going to be world-wide. That's another reason why we're starting with Sokovia, opening with another country is a good way to let the public know that this is bigger than the United States."

That it's bigger than just us. The unspoken words rang in Wanda's head. None of this had ever been about them, had it? (We are but older children, dear, who fret to find our bedtime near)

"We've already coordinated with the President of Sokovia, Damir Busic, and their Prime Minister, Ratko Dragovich, on the matter. They're both fully on board, although they did request to approve anything before it was enacted and all members of the on-ground relief aid. Which is totally understandable and completely doable.

"Once the press conference is over we will be getting in contact with other countries, like Germany and Romania, to discuss possible future missions. Donations will be able to be made on the website, should be up in an hour, and in person. We'll also be opening up job applications to the foundation in the US and Wakanda. Before we can get people from other countries involved in the organization we need to establish relations with countries worldwide and have their own branches developed. The end goal for the foundation is to have the whole world involved. What we're hoping for is a global organization that encourages countries and people to help one another recover from devastating catastrophes. Enhanced individuals, corporations, and citizens all working together."

"Wow," Scott breathed, voicing what everyone was undoubtedly thinking. Wanda stared at the man on the screen in wonder ('I am something else', so is he).

"The name is the most important part," Stark went on. "It signifies what the whole foundation is about. Charlie Spencer was just a kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was trying to do some good in this stupid, fucked up world and got killed because of it. There was no rhyme or reason to his death. It wasn't fair, it wasn't deserved, it just happened. Those deaths just keep happening, everywhere. And we just get to walk away, the battle won and the victory ours. But they can't walk away. They have to stay in those cities, in those countries, in their homes. Their homes which are filled with death and destruction. Where they lose their jobs and houses, where they lose their family and friends. They don't get to walk away from that. Charlie Spencer did not get to just walk away from that, and neither did his mother.

"And that's what the Charlie Spencer Foundation is about. It's about helping the people that we couldn't save. It's about those who didn't deserve anything that happened to them. It's about building a legacy for not just this one kid, but for everyone else who has been, who will be, affected by these instances. It's about the whole world, not just us."

Wanda continued to stare at the man on the screen. This was the same man who killed her parents, who killed Pietro, who locked her away and threw away the key, who put her on the Raft. This was the man who gave her a home, who gave her a friend, who tried to protect her, who covered for her mistakes. Wanda realized, then and there, that she did not truly know Tony Stark. That she had never really tried to. (It is only human, to sometimes be wrong. So swallow it on down, and come back where you belong)

"We've...we've made a lot of mistakes," Stark cleared his throat with a small half-smile. "Not intentional, but mistakes all the same. And until now we haven't really owned up to them...or tried to make amends. We can't change the past, and there will be times in the future where some things just happen. But this, this is something. This is a start to fixing our mistakes. Some we can't ever fix, we can't bring Charlie Spencer back, but we're going to do the best we can to mend what we can. Afterall, all we can do is try."

A soft smile. True and real and comforting. (Oh God do we try, try harder)

"Friday, my sweet and beautiful angel," the billionaire started, laughter ringing in his voice. "End recording."

The screen cut to black.

"Your Majesty?" Sam addressed the King as soon as the video ended.

"Yes?" T'Challa answered, looking at the man curiously.

"You see Stark a lot, don't you?"

"On occasion, yes," he replied. "We discuss matters like the Charlie Spencer Foundation, other charities, the Accords, and other such things."

Sam nodded before speaking again, "Next time you see him, can you tell Tony thank you? From me?"

T'Challa looked surprised, an emotion that rarely crossed his usually calm face, at this request, but smiled all the same. "I would be glad too, Mr. Wilson."

Sam gave him a small smile in return and then turned to face the TV again. No one added anything to his words. Wanda wished to ask if her name could be added to the message of gratitude, but she said nothing (And we are voiceless in the presence of realities - we cannot speak). And the screen begun to fade once more.

Stark was in a black shirt, a green and gray flannel hung loose on his frame. His eyes looked tired, but happy.

"July 24, 2016, 6:23 PM," Sam's voice was also happy (it had been so long).

Stark moved, bringing his arms up on the table. "Before I get into this, just a small update on the Charlie Spencer Foundation. So far everything is going swimmingly. We've had hundreds of job applications sent in and loads of donations. We've now got several corporate backers and an official grant request has been sent to the US government. British, French, German, Austrian, Romanian, Nigerian, Spanish, and Australian branches are underway. The Sokovian Relief Aid has started. It's...it's working."

This time Wanda smiled with the man on the screen. She did not miss the confused look Clint sent her (The minor chord which ends the harmony, and for its answering brother waits in vain, sobbing for incompleted melody).

"But that's not what this update is about, this update is about the Accords," Stark said pointedly. At this Scott leaned forward, eager to hear what the man had to say. "The process of amending that stack of five million fucking papers is still slow as shit. And it doesn't help that Ross is, once again, overstepping his bounds as Secretary of State and controlling basically everything Representative Power does. Last time I checked the President of the United States was Ellis, but what do I know?"

Stark gave the camera an annoyed look that caused Barnes to chuckle once again. Wanda furrowed her brow, still not able to understand Stark's feelings toward the man who had put her in a straight jacket.

"Even with Ross being a giant douchenozzle," Stark continued, "we've been able to make some headway with amendments. Representative Cebesa, from Wakanda, has been very helpful. As has Mr. Delattre from France and Mr. Kickert from Austria. Nothing has been passed through, not quite yet, but the conversation has started.

"One of the most interesting things to come out of these meetings has been the proposal of Personal Contracts. Surprisingly this was brought up by Malta, who before now has remained rather silent. From what I've been told, Representative Inguanez has been collaborating with President Marie Louise Coleiro Preca, Prime Minister Joseph Muscat, and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Dr. George Vella on this. They've had some of their top lawyers compiling these contracts and honestly it's amazing. Gold star for Malta!"

There was a moment of silence before Scott broke it with, "Where the fuck is Malta?"

"The Mediterranean," T'Challa answered. Scott nodded and turned back to listen to what Stark had to say. Wanda found herself smirking.

"The personal contracts were brought up in response to the questions raised about masked heros and minors," Stark went on, running his tongue over his teeth. "Some countries, like Yemen and Armenia, are very hard pressed on unmasking masked individuals, while countries like the Netherlands and Sweden are hard pressed on the complete opposite. Personally I think Malta has the right idea, and so do Gabon and Guatemala. You can't allow masked individuals to rome completely free just because you want to protect their personal privacy, but you also can't force them to reveal themselves. If someone puts on a mask it's for a good reason. You have no idea who you'll be endangering if you rip it off."

Stark gave the camera a pointed and almost scared look. Wanda's mind recalled the red and blue child from the airport and the fondness in Stark's voice when he spoke of him (In this safe haven I thee create, time'd cease to count, as the world's care doth echoes, from a million miles away).

"You need a middle ground," Stark gestured with his hands, "you need what Malta's suggesting. The way these contracts work is yet to be fully explored, but the basic concept is actually quite feasible. If masked individuals wish to sign the Accords, but not give away their identity, they need to have voucher. Someone who has already signed the Accords that can speak on their behalf. Once the contract is filled out their voucher must sign it as well. The voucher is like their...handler, for lack of a better word. If shit goes south and the masked hero violates the Accords, their voucher will also be under fire. They will help negotiate terms and help assess the damage. The voucher is key in the contracts, because even they might not know the individual's identity. They're just someone who can, well, vouch on their behalf. Make their case for them and be their mediator. That kinda thing."

Wanda felt herself straighten up at this new information. She saw Sam lean back, eyes calculating, and Scott look at Stark thoughtfully.

"Again, the details are still vague, but the idea itself seems to be picking up steam," Stark leaned forward over his arms. "Representative Abdallah Wafy, from Niger, has been extremely helpful in getting them to the point of being finalised. His knowledge of law is highly impressive, and his previous positions in the Nigerien government are equally so. I mean, look at this: Senior Security Adviser to the Minister for Interior, Public Safety and Decentralization; Inspector General of Police; Special Security Adviser to the President, the list goes on! And he's not the only one that's stepped up to help with the contracts. Israel's Representative, Danny Danon has more or less been leading the UN on how to make the contracts suitable for every country and for the public.

"That man is a Godsend. It's not just with the contracts, but just in general. A big part of the Accords is the public. Making sure they're informed and making sure that all of this is fair to them. The UN represents the people, these Representatives were chosen by the leaders that reflect their countries. And Mr. Danon has been vital in getting the public involved and making sure we stand right by them with the Accords. In fact, he was the one that made sure the Avengers even got a say in how the Accords were amended. He's the main reason why I even get to attend these meetings. Honestly, those Representatives deserve more credit. Everyone just assumes they're parrots for what their leaders say, but they actually do most of the work."

Wanda listened as Stark rattled on about the Representatives. About their credentials and their actions. She listened as he continued to surprise her with every word that fell from his lips. (As lightning to the children eased with explanation kind, the truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind)

"Mr. Thaddeus Ross does not agree with any of this, not unexpectedly," Stark rolled his eyes rather spectacularly. "He thinks that masked individuals are 'obviously hiding something that they don't want us the find out'. No shit, Sherlock! They don't want you finding out who they are and subsequently endangering their entire families! I mean honestly… I can't wait until that man is gone."

Wanda stiffened. She always heard things others didn't. She'd entered people's minds, read their thoughts, seen their dreams, played with their fears. She knew people better than anyone else. And although she didn't really know Stark, didn't know him at all, she still knew his mind. Knew his tells. Knew his ticks. (Blinding grins and laughing eyes, what are you hiding?)

"But even he can't stop any of this," Stark grinned. Wanda's frown deepened. "I think the Personal Contracts will go through, once they're finalized. Even Yemen and Sweden are coming to agree on them, and that's definitely something. I'm hoping once" not if "the contracts are passed we can modify them to create something similar for our younger heros.

"I'm still not sure if I want to argue for that, or argue that minors shouldn't even be given the option of signing until they're of age. But then that brings up the question of how will we know if someone's a minor and what if something happens to them and then the UN is put on blast for not protecting them…. Best to leave all of that to the experts, like Danon and Wafy. I'll throw my thoughts in there, of course, along with those of our friendly neighborhood Spider-Kid, but frankly, questions like that confuse the shit out of me. I have degrees in engineering, physics, business, that kind of thing, not in international law and foreign policy. I probably know more about global relations than most American citizens now, but I don't think I'll ever know as much as those guys."

This is the United Nations we're talking about, Wanda remembered the Colonel's words. Back then they had sounded like a warning, now they were a painful reminder that itched at her fingertips and trickled down her spine. (There's a regret, so grinding, so immitigably sad. Remorse thereby feels tolerant, even glad. ...Do you not know it yet?)

"The major thing left to change will be the detainment without trial part," Stark proceeded. "And that is impossible with Ross around." I know your mind "Even though he's Secretary of State and should be advising the President like it states in his job description! But what do I know? I'm just a man in a can."

An annoyed smile. One that he had given Wanda when she accidentally broke a speaker. When Sam burnt toast. When Clint's kids knocked over a mug. When Natasha stole his breakfast. When the Colonel jabbed him in the side. When Steve left a sticky note on the counter instead of saying goodbye. One that she hadn't seen in such a long time and hadn't known she'd missed (you don't miss something until it's gone for good).

"Well, that's enough on updates," Stark sighed. "Oh! The number of countries that have ratified the Accords is now up to one hundred and thirty-one. Hats off to Moldova, Tongo, Saudi Arabia, that one was a shocker, Marshall Islands, East Timor, Fiji, San Marino, and Laos."

No red energy crackled from Wanda's fingertips this time.

"Alrighty Friday, end recording." A brief smile before blackness.

Barnes spoke first, surprisingly, "Have the Personal Contracts gone through yet? And have they decided what to do with minors?"

"I suspect your questions will be answered in due time," T'Challa told him, a soft mischievous smile dancing across his face. Wanda felt as though the man knew Stark better than all of them had ever known him. Except Steve. She looked at her leader (The prison doors flung open and the furious prisoners break loose, but one by one they fall victim to the deceptive truce) and took in his neutral expression. But Wanda knew people and she saw the sadness pooling in his eyes.

"August 14, 2016, 10:56 PM," Sam read in a voice laced with poorly concealed concern. Stark was wearing a thin gray shirt and what could only be flannel pajama pants. Wanda felt concern of her own creep into her mind as she saw the expression on Stark's face. It was a thoughtful one, but whatever the billionaire was thinking of couldn't be all that pleasant.

"There's something Susan Sontag once said," Stark tilted his head slightly, "'My library is an archive of longings.'"

A long, hard look at the camera. Something inside Wanda tensed as she looked into his eyes. Eyes that held horrors (horrors she birthed, yet never killed).

"There's a library here in the compound," Stark's mouth twitched. "Peter loves it. He leaves sticky notes on Dum-E of books I need to get and slips books he thinks I should read under whatever project I'm working on. And I'm ninety-five percent sure that he and Vision have some weird book club going on."

Wanda felt herself smiling. She didn't turn away from the TV, knowing what pitying looks awaited her.

"Wanda loved the library." The words caught her off guard. "She used to spend hours holed up in there, pouring over books. She had a thing for Jane Austen and would read any occult detective story she could get her hands on. She would request certain cookbooks for Vision. I'm pretty sure she was a founder of his book club."

Pain shot through Wanda's heart and wiped away the smile that had graced her lips. Stark didn't look much better.

"I can't walk in there without seeing her," he grimaced. "She would sit in the daybed, under the watercolor of the underwater cavern. I used to put books I thought she'd like on it. Don't think she ever knew it was me."

I did.

Stark buried his head in his hands and it was a while before he brought it up again. And when he did Wanda wished he hadn't. (The eyes are windows of all cares, display the sad and wearied soul; distant looks and empty stares reveal a man who is not whole.)

"'My library is an archive of longings'," he repeated bitterly. "Then this whole building is a catacomb of empty promises and broken dreams."

The words were spat out with unconscious malice that fought its way into Wanda's mind and leached itself a home there. She saw Steve flinch at the words and knew that she was not the only one to be infiltrated by them.

"I can't go anywhere without seeing them," Stark did not smile his pained and inhuman smile. His face was void and phlegmatic. "I can see Barton's kids running up and down the stairs from when he visited. I can see Wilson kicking Rhodey's ass at Mario Kart in the living room. I can see Wanda teaching Vision how to flip pancakes in the kitchen. I can see Natasha practicing ballet in the gym when she thinks no one is watching. I can see us having movie nights that end in popcorn covering the couch. I can see mandatory team dinners. I can see training simulations. I can see piles of broken tech with apology letters written by them. I can see all of the hugs and high-fives and care."

He stopped to breathe out a choked breath. Wanda looked at her other teammates and saw the same expression reflected on each of their faces. Eyebrows drawn tight with concern, eyes filled with sorrow, and lips pressed together with regret.

"I can see them everywhere," Stark did smile now. The sad, inhuman smile that twisted Wanda's insides and threatened to stream tears from her eyes. "This whole place is a catalog of every one of them and I don't know if I can handle it anymore."

Wanda didn't know if she could either (Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right, I have been one acquainted with the night).

"Rogers said that we were a family," Stark said grimly. Wanda saw the mentioned man stiffen out of the corner of her eye. "If we ever really were a family then we were a dysfunctional one. And Steve got all the kids in the divorce."

Wanda turned to look at the Captain. Never before had she seen her leader look so thoroughly shattered. And she didn't think the metal hand in his could help put him back together. Stark let out a sigh that drew Wanda's eyes back to the TV.

"I miss them," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if that said everything. And it did. "I miss having Barton's kids over and having to herd them away from the lab. I miss how Vision didn't know how to interact with them at all, how he would awkwardly pat Cooper on the head while the kid just laughed. I miss Vision laughing, something he only used to do when Wanda told a joke. I miss Wanda learning how to play the guitar. I miss how awful it was at first, before she got better.

"I miss Sam bringing his mom's homemade cookies back from her house. I miss hearing him and Rhodes argue about The Beatles versus Earth, Wind and Fire. I miss Rhodey teaching Wanda how to shoot a gun. I miss Natasha hiding tampons in every room. I miss Wilson finding them and putting them back with that bewildered expression of his. I miss waking up at midnight to hearing Barton and Natasha talking. I miss how he used to sneak in, somehow, without any of us noticing. I miss not just seeing them everywhere, but actually seeing them. I miss this place feeling like it was full of people, even when you were alone."

Wanda didn't know when her eyes had started to water, but she wiped them hurriedly. She saw Sam look away at the last thing Stark said.

"And I miss Steve," Stark's voice cracked painfully. Steve made a noise that Wanda could not identify. A noise filled with anguish and remorse. "Oh God, I miss him so much."

The words were a whisper that reached their ears and tore at their hearts. But Wanda knew people and she knew that it ripped the Captain's in two.

"But they're gone," Stark smiled sadly, not looking at the camera. "They're gone and they're not coming back. He's not coming back. And maybe that's for the best." Another pained noise. "Maybe Sontag was right, 'Silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech.' Whatever is being said by this silence is being said from seven thousand miles away. And I've received the message, loud and clear."

Wanda knew people and she knew that Stark was breaking (don't let the blue fade).

"I miss them but...but I'm not alone," a sad, empty smile. "I've got Rhodey and Vision and Pepper. Peter, too. I'm not alone. I'll be fine."

No you won't.

The sad, empty smile faltered for one second. "Friday end recording."

The silence that spoke remained in the room as the screen cut to black.

Wanda's eyes were dry now, but only through fierce self control. The red energy that was second nature to her now remained dormant. She couldn't direct her mind away from the one thought that kept persisting, I miss you, too.

Wanda always heard things other didn't. She saw things others could not. She knew people better than anyone else. She didn't know Stark, not really. But she knew his mind. He said he would be fine, but Wanda knew better. (Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold)

~X~

Clint Barton was angry. He had been angry for quite some time now. Mainly angry at Tony. At Natasha. At Ross. At the Accords. At himself. The anger pooled deep in his stomach and spread to the tips of his fingers like red hot fire on the wicks of candles. It was a constant burning throughout his body that had been lit on the Raft and had yet to be extinguished. It flared up at the wrong times and the outer layer of his skin tinged blue with flaming rage.

Clint had been angry for quite some time now. But at the present he was mainly angry at himself.

He was still angry at Tony. At Natasha, Ross, and the Accords. (Anger is just a cowardly extension of sadness. It's a lot easier to be angry at someone than it is to tell them you're hurt.) But he was angry at himself. Angry that he had chosen this over his family. Angry that he hadn't seen his kids in five months. Angry that he'd followed Steve without asking a single question. Angry that he'd dragged Scott into this. Angry that Wanda couldn't smile properly anymore. Angry that he couldn't touch the world outside the windows.

Clint Barton was angry. But now he was less sure as to who. And why. And the new image, of Tony in an impeccable suit with his hair styled to perfection, did nothing to help.

"August 17, 2016, 5:34 PM," Sam said, his voice was small and resigned. Clint stared at the man on the screen who he'd been so angry with and now didn't know how to feel about until he moved.

"Well, my friends," Stark flashed a proud and mischievous grin. Such a severe contrast to his expression from not three minutes ago that Clint's insides twisted, "it has happened."

Confused expressions flickered across the room and Scott, as usual, voiced all their thoughts. "What's happened?"

And Tony answered him.

"It only took two months, three weeks and four days, the entire Stark Industries legal team, twenty thousand plus papers and legal documents, a calculated four hundred and twenty-two cups of coffee, forty-five migraines, twenty-six different assistants, thirty-three meetings, two weeks of impeachment rulings, trials, and deliberating, six different press conferences, seventeen witness testimonies, three well placed untraceable bribes, four hundred and thirty-five US Representatives, one hundred US Senators, one leaked video by an anonymous source, and one guilty verdict," Tony stopped to breathe as those watching gazed on in stunned silence, "but former Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross has been fired!"

The utter joy and venom that was built throughout Tony's speech confused the hell out of Clint and he found himself without words. He saw Wanda looking at the screen with something akin to understanding and relief.

"Stark was the one to get that dickhead canned?!" Clint couldn't help but wonder why Scott's outburst was filled with such confused amazement (I don't understand it any more than you do, but one thing I've learned is that you don't have to understand things for them to be).

The Stark onscreen whooped with delight and spun his chair around. "This is cause for celebration. Friday, play something happy! Dum-E, bring out the champagne!"

One Little Victory by Rush started playing and the sound of Dum-E rummaging around could be heard in the background. Stark brought his arms up and started dancing, a silly little movement that almost made Clint laugh. Almost. All he could suddenly think of was how they had spent that day, two months ago, with drinks and loud music and screaming and hollering and tears of joy. Together. And of how Tony had spent it. Alone.

"Why thank you Dum-E, I suppose you aren't completely useless," Tony's words as he took a bottle from the robot jolted Clint out of his stupor. The billionaire peeled the paper off of the top of the bottle and popped the cork with expert fingers. A drizzle of foamy liquid oozed between his fingers as Stark brought the bottle to his lips and swung it back in one fluid motion. He let out a satisfied sigh after he drank. "Don't worry, it's not actually champagne, just sparkling cider. Completely non-alcoholic." He winked at the camera before taking another swig.

Huh.

Tony set the bottle down on his table and smiled, a real and true smile, at the camera. "It wasn't as easy as it should have been. Had it been any other person this case would have been cut and dry, a clear abuse of power, but Ross...Ross is one sneaky and stubborn son of a bitch. He's a master of manipulating the system and finding insane loopholes. But, luckily for us, I'm far superior at getting what I want."

Clint frowned as Tony grinned. The archer knew that none of this was what Tony had wanted (can't be the best at everything, can we?).

"Miriam was a big help throughout all of this, she began putting our case together with me when we started working on the foundation," Stark explained. "Although she's in human resources, her position in the State Department was key in getting all of this done. We started with the Raft. Seemed easy enough. We were wrong."

Clint tilted his head in confusion and he saw his own bewilderment shared by the others in the room. Surely an underwater prison meant to hold superpowered individuals that put young girls in straitjackets wasn't difficult to expose?

"See, this is where Ross is so brilliant," his voice had a hint of admiration that made Clint's skin crawl. "The Raft wasn't kept a secret. Blueprints were, somehow, leaked and speculation amongst the public was spreading long before anyone was ever put on it. It was approved by the United States government along with the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. President Ellis visited it after its completion in March. It was checked and evaluated by every regulations committee that it needed to be. Ross...he played all of this by the book. Which made it a lot harder for us.

"Although the Raft itself was, basically, public knowledge, what went on inside wasn't. The first and only prisoners kept there were Roger's posse," Wanda flinched "so there wasn't a whole lot of evidence to be gathered. But, because I'm me, I was able to get my hands on a few recordings from their stay there. The Raft may have been approved, but the way prisoners were treated there was not. Even if you have zero knowledge of US law you know that what went on in there was in no way Constitutional. The Eighth Amendment states that 'Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.' I don't know about you, but putting shock collars and straitjackets on one hundred and twenty pound girls seems cruel and unusual to me. So is indefinite detainment without trial, 'In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury'. Sixth Amendment bitches."

Barnes let out a snort of amusement and Clint fought of the smirk that threatened to grace his own lips.

"That last bit is really more of an argument to be saved for UN meetings for Accords' amendments, but still was a tad useful for us. I made sure there was no way the compiled video of the Raft could be traced back to me and sent it to my dear friend Christine Everheart a few days after we presented our case to Vice President Dean Callahan and President Ellis, Rhodes was a great help in getting them to meet with us. He also helped us get in contact with several people from the military, those who worked with Ross back when he was a General and would be willing to act as character witnesses. Those definitely helped show what a crazed nutjob the guy is.

"Before we even thought of bringing our accusations to the government we had to actually put together a list of wrong-doings. The main thing that we, the lawyers, Miriam, Rhodes, and I, focused on was his abuse of power. And misuse of power. That part wasn't that tricky, once we started digging into all he's done in the past three months."

Clint saw Scott lean forward and T'Challa look at Stark, interested. Clint himself twiddled his thumbs idly and remained focused on the TV.

"The primary jobs of the Secretary of State are to advise the President on matters of foreign policy and to head the Department of State," Tony continued. "Ross though, Ross has done a lot more than advise. The Raft itself was evidence enough of that, but we decided to dig deeper. Just in case. Ross also had several meetings with the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre that were not approved by the President, or that he was even aware of, along with meetings with UN officials. He repeatedly passed on information to Representative Power that was not confirmed by Ellis at any point in time, which is why things in the UN have been so difficult. The only job Ross has involving the UN is just advising the President on appointments and helping to administer foreign policy. Last I checked US foreign policy did not include unfair trial and cruel and unusual punishment.

"That covered the misuse of power, abuse of power was mostly just overstepping his bounds. Influencing United States' diplomats and officials when he shouldn't have, exceeding his role of adviser almost to the point of trying to order higher ranking officials what to do, using his position to wrongfully dictate what governmental employees should do, ignoring rules and regulations due to his position, that sort of thing. Collecting all of the evidence for both misuse and abuse of power was a long and tedious process. There were several interviews, most of which turned out to be dead ends, that we had to conduct. And keeping all of it quiet within the government was a real challenge. If Ross had caught even a whiff of what we were up to we would have been done for.

"But he didn't. I had to bribe three members of the State Department to tell us about unauthorized meetings and phone calls and then to testify about them. I also had to get that video to Christine anonymously and do so at the right exact moment. And we all had to do all of this while being swamped with other work."

Clint took in Stark's appearance and for the first time noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the tired wrinkles that danced on his forehead. (You are down there alone, the stars seemed to say to him. And we are up here, in our constellations, together.)

"It was long and tedious and sucked ass," Tony drawled, one eyebrow raised in annoyance. "But we did it. The impeachment trial started soon after we presented our case to the President and Vice President, and wouldn't you know it? The video of the Raft was on WHiH News the very same day. A coincidence I'm sure." A playful smirk that caused a warm bubble in Clint's stomach to form. "With all of the evidence piled against him along with the eyewitness testimonies we were able to bring before the House...that bastard didn't stand a chance. I myself testified, of course, as well as made sure the public was informed as to what was going on and as to why I took it upon myself to start this.

"Then the trial took place in the Senate. It was an extremely quick process, considering that it usually takes months for this kind of thing. I wasn't really surprised though, there was absolutely no chance of him staying in his position. He wasn't arrested, that's not what being impeached means. Being impeached simply means that the charges have been brought against you. The Senate trial is to remove an official from office. So Ross wasn't incarcerated, just fired. But that's good enough for me. Tony Blinken, the Deputy Secretary of State, is now Acting Secretary until Ross is replaced. Hopefully Ellis will choose someone who has actual experience in politics and doesn't have an irrational hatred for enhanced individuals this time."

Stark sat back in his chair, a tired yet satisfied smile adorning his face. Clint found himself smiling as well, and saw that he was not the only one of those watching. The smile soon faded, replaced with a scowl that shocked Clint by the hatred in it.

"Ross was an idiot," Tony stated, his voice cold and loathsome. "I mean, what was he thinking? That no one was going to find out what he did? Or that if they did they'd simply go along with everything? What a fucking imbecile."

Wanda straightened up, her eyes wary of the now intimidating man on the screen before them. Clint didn't blame her.

"How could he think I wouldn't do something about it?" Stark went on. "I'm Tony Stark. I have three PhD's along with two Masters. I have an IQ of two hundred and thirty-six. I graduated from MIT at age nineteen. I ran a multinational industrial company for twenty years. I was kidnapped for three months and fought my own way out. I miniaturized the arc reactor in a fucking cave with almost nothing at my disposal. I built a gold titanium alloy suit that uses repulsor technology and can't be replicated by anyone else. I created a brand new element in my basement. I flew a nuke into a fucking wormhole and survived."

Tony's eyes were filled with a cold brown that chilled Clint's insides and forced him to hold off a shudder. Stark's voice was menacing and off-putting, different from anything they'd heard so far.

"I wasn't called the Merchant of Death for nothing," a daunting sneer. "I dominated the weapons industry for decades before taking control of the clean energy one. Men like Ross should know better then to cross me. I've got an entire team of lawyers that can rip you to shreds for merely jaywalking. I can hack into any government institution that I please without leaving a trace. I can bury you in complicated legalese and political jargon that will leave you reeling. I can find any evidence to ruin your life that I need to in a matter of minutes. And what I can't find I can create. I'll wrap you up in so much bureaucratic red tape that you won't be able to see another color."

The threatening words fell from his lips with such malice and spite that Wanda physically flinched and Lang gasped sharply. A sinister smile spread across Stark's face and his eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair, seemingly content. (There are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman.)

"Friday?" he asked, his voice filled with sweetness and laced with venom. "End the recording, darling."

The screen cut to black once more and Clint's heart didn't stop beating fast.

Sam voiced what all of them were undoubtedly thinking, "We should be very grateful we're still here, shouldn't we?" And that they should be.

They sat in silence while they waited for the next image to form. Tony sat at his table, wearing a Resevoir Dogs hoodie with the characters' colors on falling bullets. He didn't look as tired now, and he looked happy. Clint wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"August 23, 2016, 1:45 PM," Sam read the listed numbers in a neutral tone, neither happy nor sad. And, as it always did, the image moved and Stark came to life.

"Now that Ross is gone shit is actually progressing," Clint smiled at the familiar use of informal and formal language. "The Personal Contracts are almost finalized and we've started the conversation on minors. There's also talk of getting rid of the detainment without trial part, so that's good."

Stark took a moment to stretch, reaching his arms behind his head until his elbows popped and he let out a sigh of content.

"But the best news," Tony smiled, leaning forward, "is that the UN panel has finally been confirmed. So get excited my friends."

Clint knew that the term "friends" wasn't directed at them, knew that Tony was talking to a camera and not to them. That it was just a general expression that Tony used and that it held no meaning. He felt a pang of sadness nonetheless. (You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing.)

"A while back, in mid-July I think, we were able to come to an agreement on which countries should have members on the panel," Stark continued, all eyes fixated on him. Scott looked especially interested and it hurt Clint to think as to why. "By 'we' I mean the General Assembly, I didn't really have a whole lot of input. It was pretty much guaranteed that each permanent member on the Security Council had a slot. So that's the US, Britain, France, Russia, and China. And, eventually, we settled on seven members total. Each country fought to have a spot on the panel, but in the end it was decided that Sokovia more than deserved their slot and that Wakanda did as well."

Clint looked at the King and saw the clouded sorrow in his eyes. The same sorrow that was hidden in Wanda's. But both sorrows were mixed with some sort of hopeful pride that Clint himself couldn't understand.

"Electing the members of the panel though, that was hard," Tony said. "Especially for Russia and China, they went through over ten nominations each before they were approved. But, about two months since candidates were first presented, we have our seven."

Stark flicked his wrist, bringing up one of his blue holograms. He swept a finger across it and brought up a picture of an older man, with thinning silver hair and a round face.

"This is Robert Gates," Stark said, glancing sideways at the photo, "the panel member from the United States. It's pretty much agreed upon by, well, everyone that Gates here was the best Secretary of Defense this country has ever seen. He served under the Bush administration and Ellis's first term. He retired back in 2011.

"Let's get some background on this guy first though, before we go into his credentials. He's from Kansas, a boy scout, so that's fun. He has a B.A. and an M.A. in History and a PhD in Russian and Soviet History. In fact, his dissertation was titled "Soviet Sinology: An Untapped Source for Kremlin Views and Disputes Relating to Contemporary Events in China". I read it awhile back, good stuff. Not just good, amazing. That along with his memoir, From the Shadows: The Ultimate Insiders Story of Five Presidents and How They Won the Cold War, is enough to show anyone that this guy is very knowledgeable about the United States' relationship with Russia. And that's just one thing that he knows a lot of shit about, I'm just getting started here. The dude has two other memoirs.

"Gates was recruited by the CIA back in '66. He was in the Air Force for a while, Rhodey's real happy about that, earning the rank of Second Lieutenant. Then he went back to the CIA and eventually became the director in 1991. He did a decent job, if you ignore the whole Iran-Contra Affair. Which he may have known nothing about, but we may never know."

Clint saw Wilson wince at this and he himself grimaced internally. He could remember watching the news reports on that whole ordeal when he was in his late teens.

"After that, in '93, he retired from the CIA," Tony leaned back. "Gates made his way around the country, lecturing at several different prestigious schools and evaluating student theses. He also wrote a shit ton of papers and articles on foreign policy and government. His stuff for the New York Times is pretty good, ten out of ten would recommend."

Barnes snorted.

"And of course after that he still had more stuff to do, because Robert Gates can't be expected to sit still for even five minutes apparently. Which I can relate to. He was a dean for a while, at George Bush's school, and served on the board of a few different corporations. He co-chaired a Council on Foreign Relations task force on our relations with Iran in 2004, far as I can tell he did a decent job.

"He was offered the position of Director of National Intelligence, but declined. In 2006 he was, almost unanimously, confirmed as Defense Secretary. Gates was the one who switched tactics in Iraq and started pulling troops out as violence there declined. Good on you Gates."

Clint found himself nodding along with this. He could remember how much more relaxed Coulson had been once the situation in the Middle East had started to dwindle down.

"Gates was asked to continue his work in DC under President Ellis, he accepted. He then continued pulling our guys out of Iraq and deployed some in Afghanistan. Both logical moves. He also was the one who worked on reforming the military, getting more opportunities for women and working to repeal that dumbass 'don't ask, don't tell policy'. So we can thank him for that."

Sam was nodding vigorously at those words and Clint caught Steve smiling.

"He retired in 2011, holding the job for five years. After that he's done a lot of stuff. He's a principal at RiceHadleyGates LLC, which is a strategic consulting firm for businesses looking to expand internationally. He's chancellor at the College of William and Mary, where he got his B.A. He also is the national president of the Boy Scouts of America and has worked on repealing their dumbass homophobic policies as well."

Steve's smile turned sad and Clint could imagine why.

"And that, my friends, is Robert Gates. What a guy," Tony smirked, obviously happy with the UN's decision. Clint was too. "His knowledge on US relations with other countries, foreign policy, military tactics and strategies, and world politics will undoubtedly be helpful. Rhodey is very pleased that he's spent time in the military, says that his experience there will be useful. I agree. And all of his experience in general will be helpful. I mean, he's done practically everything. And all the Honorary Doctorates he has, Jesus Christ. Philosophy, Humane Letters, he's got five of those, Law, and Public Administration. The guy knows his shit.

"He's also the only Defense Secretary to be asked by an incoming president to continue serving his post. Which is especially rare considering Bush was Republican and Ellis is a Democrat. To quote Foreign Policy, he's 'America's last bipartisan figure'. Which we'll need if there's any hope of people from different countries with different core ideologies trying to agree on something. He's easily the most decorated and credentialed member of the panel. By far."

"There's still six more," Scott breathed, as if he'd just remembered the information. Clint found himself stunned, the idea of six other people like that an honest shock to him (We can't take any credit for our talents. It's how we use them that counts).

"And we still have six more," Tony grinned. Scott did a double take at those words and Clint chuckled. "Next up is Britain!"

Stark flicked his wrist again and the hologram shifted to show the image of an older woman, with short auburn hair and a grandmotherly smile.

"Presenting Baroness Anelay of St. Johns!" Tony declared with false gravitas that made Wanda giggle beneath her hand. "Although she may look like she should be bringing in a tray of chocolate chip cookies and asking you if you've had enough to eat, she's one very formidable woman."

Clint raised an eyebrow at this. By now he had learned not to underestimate any woman, his wife and Natasha being prime examples of badassery, but this one didn't seem at all like Stark was describing.

"She was born in Hackney and has a B.A. and an M.A. Originally she was a secondary school teacher, but she later went on the serve as Justice of the Peace in Surrey and sat on the Social Security Appeal Tribunal. Not successful at the latter, but still impressive. Throughout her life she's held several positions in the Conservative Party Organization. She was Chair of some shit and a Dame Commander of some other shit. And she was named a Life Peer and given the title Baroness, so that's pretty goddamn impressive. In my opinion Life Peers are way cooler than Hereditary Peers because they actually earn their titles, but whatever."

Another snort from Bucky and a smirk from Scott. A warm feeling spread throughout Clint's stomach as he took in the almost lost happiness in his team. (Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.)

"Anyway, Anelay continued her work for the Conservative Party. She was appointed Opposition Whip in 2007 and was Shadow Minister for Culture, Media and Sport for a while. She was also Shadow Home Office Minister in 2002. In 2009 she was sworn of the Privy Council, which basically means that she's a member of the council that advises the head of the nation.

"After the general election of 2010 Anelay was appointed Government Chief Whip, representing her party to the Prime Minister and the whole of the government, and Captain of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen at Arms, which is the title given to the Chief Whip of the House of Lords. That position, along with her work at the Conservative Party, gives her a lot of experience within the government.

"Finally, in 2014, she replaced Baroness Warsi as Minister of State in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. Her job there includes overseeing UK operations overseas, dealing with human rights issues, the UN, and international energy security policy. That kinda thing. While working there she's established ending sexual violence towards women as one of her main focuses, along with promoting gender equality in general."

This was met with nods of approval from those in Wakanda.

"She's done a lot as Minister of State," Tony said, enthused. "She's been all around the world, meeting with foreign leaders and diplomats. Her actions in and thoughts on African countries has especially been promising. Her continued support for Nigeria and their fight against Boko Haram is quite admirable. Her focus on civilian safety definitely helped her get the job as a panel member, as did her words on the UK and Japan cooperations in Syria and the Middle East. Anelay's experience with foreign relations is mainly what she brings to the table, along with several other strengths."

Five more to go, Clint thought as Stark caused the hologram to show another face. Another man this time, his hair gray and dark circles under his eyes.

"This is Christian Lambert, from France," Stark barrelled on. "This is our man of the people, so to speak. Although Gates and Anelay are well respected politicians and diplomats within their countries, there will always be a certain disconnect between them and the common man. Lambert here is meant to mend that disconnect."

Clint saw Scott cock his head in earnest interest.

"He was a firefighter and a peacekeeper in his earlier years, gaining recognition in local communities," Stark explained. "He worked his way up the ranks and eventually became commissioner of police. In 2002 he was elected as the head of RAID, an elite unit of the French National Police. Those guys are not to be messed with, they definitely do not joke around. While holding the position he played a key role in the arrest of Yvan Colonna. He was this pretty big terrorist in the 90s."

Clint remembered him well. He also remembered Coulson's small smile on June 20, 2011 when the man's third trial had sentenced him to life in prison again.

"After all of that went down he was appointed Director of the Republican Security Companies, another section of the French National Police. Main focus of his job there was to maintain public order and rescue missions. After that he was appointed to the Council of Ministers, pretty fancy title there, Prefect of Seine-Saint-Denis. Most were really happy with his appointment and felt he did an excellent job there.

"In 2013 he became the Minister of Interior Minister Manuel Valls 's priority security zones. To be honest I don't really know what that means, but it sounds impressive. Something to do with security. And then, finally, in 2015 he was named Director of Safety of the SNCF. The SNCF is the French National Railway Company."

That title was met by confused expressions from all present, a raised eyebrow from Sam and a frown from Steve.

"His credentials aren't as long as the other two, but that's not all that matters when choosing these members," Tony started, as if sensing their confusion across time. "One of his main praises that he received while Prefect of Seine-Saint-Denis was that despite his new title and job, he was still a cop at heart. Still a common man. The people are going to need someone like that if they are to trust the panel to lead us. Lambert has had enough experience within the French government to apply to world politics, and the jobs he has held have dealt enough with public safety and international issues to handle his new position and to make informed decisions. But the main reason he has been chosen is because the public trusts him, and by extension they will trust us. Which we desperately need right now."

The earnest hope that shown in Tony's eyes caused Clint's insides to twist painfully. Regret pooled in his stomach and seeped down throughout the rest of his body, ending by dragging his feet down, down, down. (And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.)

"Next up is Russia," Stark flicked his wrist and the image of a man with graying brown hair and round glasses. "Oh Russia, boy was it hard to choose someone from there. This is Alexander Viktorovich Blokhin. There's not really a whole lot to say about him, which is probably why he got picked."

Barnes snorted once more and Clint found himself happy at the reoccurring noise of laughter. It had been sorely missed.

"He attended Ivanovo Power Institute, a specialist engineering school. Good for him. He got a job at Fizpribor, this Russian engineering center. In the late 70s he worked for the USSR Ministry of Defense. Then in the 80s he was the Chief Engineer for the Shchelkovo Bioindustrial Complex. Which, not trying to be accusatory, I'm not entirely sure exists. I mean, it's on his credentials but there's like zero information about it online. I dunno, I'll look into it later. It's probably real, just small.

"Blokhin was made a member of the Supreme Soviet of Russia, basically the Russian government in the early 90s before it died. After its dissolution he worked in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He's held several ambassador positions since then. He was the Ambassador of Russia to Azerbaijan for four years until the position was abolished. Then Belarus in 2002 and Australia in 2005. He is still currently the Russian Ambassador to Australia, along with being the non-resident ambassador to Fiji, Vanuatu and Nauru."

Scott opened his mouth as if about to ask a question but T'Challa beat him to it. "Three Pacific Islands," he said, smiling fondly at the engineer. Scott nodded in response and returned to the TV.

"That's really all there is to this guy," Tony admitted. "The Russians didn't really give the UN any details besides those credentials and their own personal testimony of the man's competence and knowledge of international relations. From what I've dug up so far I agree. Blokhin is a valuable asset for the panel and should work well with the others."

He once again touched the blue hologram and now it showed them an Asian woman, probably in her late forties, with dark brown hair.

"Hua Chunying, Chinese politician," Stark told them. "One of the most powerful women in the world."

Wanda perked up at this, uncurling from herself slightly and training her eyes on the screen.

"She comes from a very esteemed family, both her parents being political officials," Tony explained. "Her dad was the Secretary of the Discipline Inspection Commission of the Communist Party of China and her mother was the Deputy Director of a local district. Hua here went to Nanjing University, one of the oldest and most prestigious schools in China, and got herself a degree in the English Language.

"After she graduated she got a job at the Department of Western Europe, twenty years later and she was named spokeswoman. In 2010 she was promoted to counselor in China's Mission to the European Union. And in 2012 she was named Deputy Director of Foreign Ministry Information Department of the People's Republic of China. Currently she is also the spokeswoman for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."

Tony stopped here to bend his neck to one side, screwing his eyes tight as he did so.

"So, overall, a very impressive woman," the man on the screen nodded. "I believe that the main reason she was chosen was because of her experience as a spokeswoman. She is very adept at speaking to the public in a direct and concise manner. One of the main goals of the panel is going to communication with the public, keeping them informed on decisions that are made and why those decisions are made. Hua will definitely be given the task of conveying the panel's message to the people of the world, a daunting task that I'm sure she will dominate.

"On top of her skills with the public, her experience with foreign relations and foreign policy will also be helpful. Being spokeswoman for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs doesn't mean that she just answers questions with information that's been spoonfed to her. No, it means that she has a great knowledge of China's relations and has to be up to date on current events worldwide as part of her job. She also helped ambassadors in the past and seems to have substantial knowledge of the UN and their procedures. She should do well in this position."

Clint looked around and saw most in the room looking at the screen with interested and agreeing expressions.

"Next up, Sokovia," Stark said as a new image appeared, this time of a man with a receding hairline and small eyes. "Say hello to Svetomir Kasun, one of Sokovia's most notable diplomats."

Clint saw Wanda smile, the face obviously familiar to her.

"This man here attended the University of Zelenamesto Faculty of Law and graduated with a Master's in International Law and a Bachelor's in the English Language. Later he received a PhD in International Law. Right after graduating he started working at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in their Sector for Multilateral Affairs. He worked his way up the ranks there, at one point serving as the Ambassador to Cyprus, eventually gaining the title of Assistant Minister of that sector. While in that position he specialized in human rights violations and protecting the environment. He worked hand in hand with the UN Council of Human Rights to follow their guidelines along with helping refugees from war torn countries. Kasun seemed to place particular emphasis on the Kyoto Protocol and the Convention on Climate Change. A man after my own heart.

"One super awesome thing that this guy was a part of was the UN General Assembly. He participated in it and also in the delegation at the Ninth Conference of the Non Aligned Movement, which took place in Belgrade, Serbia. He worked with the rest of the Sokovian government on integrating the Convention on Chemical weapons. Sokovia is actually one of the few countries to follow that piece of legislation, good on them."

A proud grin from Wanda. (They say they want new ones we cannot afford. So please get your rags and your polishing jars, somebody has to go polish the stars.)

"He then spent a brief period as the Sokovian Ambassador to Japan, after which he was made State Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. About a year later he was appointed as Minister, heading the whole department. He was appointed as an independent, not aligned to any political party but endorsed by the Party of Democratic Progress, a centre-right party in Sokovia. One of the things he promised was a shift in Sokovia's traditional foreign policy to better adapt to the more current geopolitical dynamics. Which he delivered on, quite spectacularly, too.

"Although Sokovia has spent the last few decades working with other countries, their foreign policy has mainly been a type of isolation. Their dealings with other countries have been kept to a minimum and only focused on formal interactions. Kasul aimed to shift them from isolation and into a more inclusionary country. He worked mainly on establishing beneficial relations with neighboring countries and focused a lot on border regions. So Serbia, Hungary, and Romania. He also was the main driver for getting Sokovia into the EU back in 2013."

Tony stopped to breathe and Clint took the chance to look at Steve. His expression was an odd one, sadness and longing mixed with unmistakable pride. The sight made Clint's heart sink one inch.

"His new foreign policy was continued by his successor after their new Prime Minister was elected, proving that his ideas were working. Now he is the Sokovian Ambassador to Paris, France. So that's fun. His experience with foreign policy was enough for him to get elected to the panel, and honestly I'm quite excited to see what he brings to the table."

Tony stretched his arms back once more, this time without the popping noise. "Alright, one more and then I'm gonna go relax." He flicked his fingers and the image of a dark skinned woman with short curly hair and striking green eyes. "Last, but certainly not least, Zimkhitha Dlamini! God I hope I pronounced that correctly. I know several different languages, but I'm only now just learning Xhosa."

T'Challa nodded at his words and smiled happily when the X in Xhosa was clicked, seemingly correctly.

"Zimkhitha here was born into a pretty well off family, her mother is a top scientist at the Birnin Azzaria Research Institute and her father is the Ambassador to Benin. Her grandfather though," Tony lifted one leg up to rest on the chair, "her grandfather serves on the Taifa Ngao, the council of elders that help with day to day operations in Wakanda. So it's no surprise that she herself is very accomplished.

"She graduated from the Birnin Bashenga University where she received a degree in Asian Studies and Military Science. Then she attended the Birnin Djata Institute of Strategic Studies and got a PhD in Military Strategies. She first served in the Wakanda Army for four years before earning the rank of Major Commander. Which I think is the equivalent to a Major over here, but I'm not entirely sure."

"It is," T'Challa answered their unspoken question.

"She served around twelve years total in the Army but was called in later in 2002 to assist with developing Wakanda's new security policy. This was only a few years after Wakanda joined the UN, which increased their relations with other countries and presented new situations for them. Two years later Zimkhitha was appointed Chief of the Army by the then King of Wakanda, T'Chaka."

A proud yet sad smile from T'Challa.

"She did a frankly fantastic job as Chief. Back in the early 2000s there was this extremist group in Wakanda, probably religious but there isn't a whole lot of information on them. You know how secretive that country is. Anyway, this group was doing some not so nice things in the rural areas of Wakanda and was slowly making their way to the more urban locations. The Army, under her command along with T'Chaka's, was able to stop this group from entering highly populated areas and eventually flush them out of the country completely. So I'd say she did a pretty bang up job.

"In 2012 she was relieved of her duties and they transferred the position of Chief and Deputy over to two other people. In 2013 she was honored at some luncheon I think, there are a few pictures of it but the details are vague. And then, in 2014, she was appointed as Minister of Defense of Wakanda. While in that position she did some pretty cool things, like expand relations with other countries and revitalize their Air Force. Overall a pretty chill lady."

T'Challa let out a small chuckle, taking everyone, including Clint, by surprise. The carefree grin that decorated his face made Clint wish that they could have seen it more often in these past five months, not the serious frown that was usually in place. (If you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.)

"The main thing I'm excited about with her," Tony chewed in the inside of his lip for a second before continuing, "is seeing how her expertise in military strategy will fit in. All the others have extensive knowledge of foreign policy, and she does too! But she also knows a lot about tactics and strategic maneuvers. The panel isn't just going to tell us where we can and can't go, they're also going to try and advise us while we're on the ground. Or air. Zimkhitha's assistance in that portion of their job will be interesting and hopefully extremely helpful."

Clint couldn't help but agree. Onscreen, Tony leaned back in his chair and stretched both his legs out.

"And that my friends," he yawned, "is the our UN Panel of Experts. I dunno about everyone else, but I'm excited. Each member brings something different and valuable to this new team. You've got Gates with his knowledge of US relations and bipartisan ideology, Anelay's experience with foreign relations and civilian safety, Lambert's connect to the common man and work with local governments, Blokhin's time spent working within the Russian government and his familiarity with international dealings, Chunying's relationship with the public and knowledge of current events, Kasun's work with the UN and adapting to geopolitical dynamics, and Dlamini's ties with the Wakandan government and skills in military strategy and tactics. All together they make up a team of people that are experts on foreign policy, world politics, and international law and who should be able to put aside personal political beliefs and focus on the task at hand. They should be able, and will be able, to make informed, logical, and practical decisions on when the Avengers need to interfere and when situations should be left for national governments and militaries to handle."

A deep breath taken and let out.

"They're a team that the public will trust," Tony gave a small smile. "A team that I trust."

A sharp stab of pain that drove itself into Clint's gut. He knew if he even tried to pull it out he would drown in it (How much good inside a day? Depends how good you live 'em. How much love inside a friend? Depends how much you give 'em).

"Well," Tony yawned again, "Jesus! It's not even three yet, why am I so tired? I think I'll just go and work on the new design for the implantable microelectromechanical systems devices Stark Industries is developing. After that I'll see if Rhodes wants to get some dinner, maybe we'll invite Peter and his aunt over."

A content smile that made Clint feel the opposite. "End the recording Friday, will you?"

Cut to black.

"That...that wasn't what I was expecting," Lang voiced his thoughts. Clint agreed.

"From a UN Panel of Experts?" T'Challa raised one eyebrow. Scott looked abashed but didn't reply. Neither did everyone else as they all looked at the black screen before them, processing all they had just heard.

Clint Barton was angry. He had been angry for quite some time now. But now he was less sure as to who. And why. ("Farewell" is a word that, in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.)

~X~

Steve's whole body was numb, all he could feel was the cold metal in his hand. Everpresent and never leaving. The only constant in this whirlwind. Yet all Steve could think of was the man on the screen. The man who had fought for them, lied to them, protected them. Who had been working nonstop for the past five months to fix this mess while they sat on their asses, doing nothing.

The image appeared and Steve couldn't breathe.

"August 30, 2:54 AM," Sam's voice was loaded with confusion. I know that date. Tony sat at his desk, his legs pulled up onto the chair so he was sitting Indian style. His hair was disheveled. His eyes were shadowed by dark rings. But the most concerning thing was what he was wearing. Steve stared in shock and alarm at the gray hoodie that hung from Tony's frame, the blue year of 1957 stitched into the upper left corner. He knew that if Tony were to turn around it would read KEEP THE DODGERS IN BROOKLYN on the back.

It was his hoodie.

It was much too big for Tony's thin frame and it dwarfed him in size, making him appear a great deal smaller than he actually was. The sleeves were too long and Tony hadn't bothered to roll them up, so the gray fabric swallowed his hands.

It was Steve's. And Tony was wearing it. And Steve knew then that this was his worst thing, and he couldn't be wrong about it (bent and broken, suffering is the greatest teacher).

Bucky's hand squeezed his tightly, obviously knowing whose hoodie it was. And judging by the looks the others were giving him they knew it too. Steve didn't meet any of their eyes and focused on the TV. Focused on Tony.

He barely noticed when Tony moved, a small sniffle. He wasn't sick though. The genius sat still, barely moving and not saying a word. The silence hurt more than anything Steve had heard yet.

"Stevie, you okay?" Bucky whispered to him. Steve didn't respond, eyes trained on Tony, and Bucky squeezed his hand. It did little to comfort him and Steve wasn't surprised.

Tony slowly brought his arms up, his hands still hidden by the sleeves. He buried the lower half of his face in his hoodie covered hands. The man looked so small and helpless, his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched forward. He stayed in that position for a while, undoubtedly breathing in the scent of the hoodie. The sight made Steve's heart fall down, down, down.

When Tony finally did speak his voice was small. It did not waver and he did not stutter. But it was quiet and meek, not quite a whisper but not loud enough to be anything else. A voice that conveyed nothing but utter sorrow and desperate longing. He brought his hands down and ever so slowly brought his head up. His warm brown eyes did not meet the camera, still staring down.

"I hate sleeping alone." And Steve felt his heart shatter into a million splintered shards.

The room in Wakanda was deathly silent. No one spoke, but Steve was sure that all eyes were on him. His own eyes were fixated on the screen, on the man that he had forsaken. The man who had given his blood, sweat, and tears for Steve, who had bared his soul to him, who had tried again and again to prevent all of this, who was far far away and so alone and it was all Steve's fault. The man who Steve had abandoned for all the wrong reasons (no man left behind, all except one).

Bucky's hand was in his and it wasn't helping. It should be, it should. But it wasn't. Because Bucky wasn't Tony and Steve needed Tony. But did Tony still need him? Steve was too scared to answer.

Tony remained where he was, staring at nothing with hollow eyes. He looked so small and deserted. A few minutes of complete and utter silence passed before he spoke again. In the same broken voice that was not quite a whisper but was not loud enough to be anything else.

"Friday end recording." And Tony disappeared once more, leaving Steve alone this time. Alone in a room full of people, with a cold metal hand in his that offered no comfort.

A moment of silence.

"Stevie, you okay" Bucky asked again, softer this time.

Steve looked down, not meeting the eyes of the man he had risked all of this for. "No."

No one said anything until the next image formed. Tony sat there again, this time in a flimsy t-shirt. The absence of the hoodie caused a flare of hurt in Steve that he did not understand.

"August 30, 2016, 9:04 AM," Sam read, concern evident in his voice. Tony didn't look much better this time.

"So I didn't sleep well last night," a smile that seemed more of a grimace. "I haven't been sleeping well at all these last five months, but last night was...not fun."

I haven't been either.

"I uh…," Tony trailed off, looking at something in the distance before shaking his head. "I dunno. I just...I dunno."

Tony ran his hands through his hair and placed them on his neck, resting in that position for a while before bringing them down again.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," he smiled mirthlessly. "What can I say? That it hurt? That it still hurts? That every single day is hell? That I don't think I can do this anymore?"

A long sigh from the inventor before them. Steve's stomach twisted painfully.

"The...the worst part is forgetting. Every now and then it just slips your mind and you forget for a while. And then you see something, like an empty chair at a table or a dent in a couch or...or a hoodie shoved in the back of a dresser drawer. And then it all hits you at once. Like a freight train."

Steve wished he had that. Had anything here that was Tony's. But he had nothing, because here was not home and home was what he'd left behind.

"And I can't do this anymore," Tony's voice cracked and with it so did Steve's heart. "I can't keep acting like everything is fine! Because it's not, it's really not. Some parts are, like the Accords and Ross. And I'm doing things, like the foundation, the prosthetic line, and another project underway that I'm really excited about. And those things are more than fine. But everything isn't fine. Everything hurts. And I can't keep this up, I don't want to. I don't just want to act like I'm okay, I want to actually be okay again!"

There were tears starting to form in Tony's eyes. And Steve could feel some in his own.

"But I can't, not with...not with Steve...," Tony didn't finish his thought, but he didn't need to. Steve knew that all eyes were most likely flicking between him and the screen. He didn't care. All that mattered was Tony. "I don't know if I can be okay again. Not without him. He's gone and he took everything with him."

Bucky's hand felt loose in his, as if the man next to him knew how little it did to ease his pain. The thought brought him less sadness than it should have and Steve was scared as to why.

"I just...I can't get over it," Tony frowned. "Sometimes I think that maybe one day he'll come back. Maybe we can figure something out with the UN and maybe he'll want to come back."

I do, I do, I do.

"But then I remember why he left and I...there's no fixing any of this."

Steve had felt pain before. Unimaginable, searing, white hot pain. But nothing, nothing, even came close to this. Bucky's hand fell from his and Steve didn't bother to reach for it once more (years and years gone by, a shell filled with memories of a ghost).

Tony choked on his next words. "I want to. Oh dear God do I want to. But I don't think I can. Not after everything, not after what he did. If it were just over the Accords then maybe, maybe there would've been a chance. But it wasn't about the Accords. Not really. Steve never would've...he would never have thrown everything away for a stack of papers. It was never about them for him. It was about Barnes. It was always about Barnes."

Steve didn't look at Bucky but he felt him shift next to him.

"I understand," Tony swallowed painfully, "I really do. I get why Barnes is so important to him, I get that he's his last tie to his old life. To the time before the ice. Before us."

It was always us Tony.

"I get it. But he...he threw everything away for him. Not just us, but the whole team. And to some extent the whole world. He broke international law, violated the sovereignty of nations, killed and injured, and tore this team apart for one single man. I thought...I thought that at least that man would've been me but…."

Always you, Tony. Always. (I don't know if I'm worth all this, Tony should've been)

"I thought that we had something." We did, we did, we did. "But I guess I was wrong. I'm always wrong when it comes to the important stuff." You were right, about everything. "I really should've seen it coming."

Bucky didn't grab Steve's hand and Steve didn't want him to. Tony sniffled onscreen.

"I read somewhere about how people fall out of love," he started, slowly and wavering. No, no, no, no, no. "The things you originally loved about that person become things that you can't stand. Those odd little quirks that you used to find so endearing turn into something ugly and destructive. Their adorable stubbornness becomes their inability to compromise. And that's how it starts. I wonder what Steve's was for me."

Nothing. Steve clenched his hands into fists and felt Sam's hand on his knee. It was different than Bucky and he couldn't tell if that was good or bad.

Tony sighed. "There's one glaring hole in that theory though. I...I don't think there will ever be a part of me that doesn't love Steve."

Steve had been wrong. This was his worst thing. And there was no beating it.

"Oh God I love him so much," Steve's head fell in his hand at that whisper and he couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking violently. "How fucking pathetic is that?! I should hate him for what he did! But I can't...I can't hate him. He lied to me about my parents' deaths, he hid that from me for two fucking years. He ruined everything I've worked so hard to build these past few years and then had the fucking audacity to tell me he hopes someday I can understand.

"I understand Barnes. I understand what he means to Steve. I do. But I will never understand why he chose him over us. Over me. I...I can't understand that and how in the hell does he expect me to?!"

Steve couldn't breathe. He felt numb all over and he couldn't breathe. (empty words and empty promises, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry)

"But I still love him."

(colors dance across fallen leaves, winter is approaching and God will it be cold)

"I should hate him for what he did...but I don't. Part of me wishes I did, because if I hated him instead of loved him it probably wouldn't hurt this much."

(broken hearts and broken bones, why oh why can't I come home?)

"Jesus this is pathetic," Steve wondered if Tony was crying, it sounded like maybe he had been. "It's been over three months now, I shouldn't be like this."

Steve could imagine him smiling at the camera. A grim and inhuman smile. "I'm just tired. Tired of...all of this. I should be focusing on other things, important things. Not...not him."

Steve didn't bring his head up.

"Because he's not here. I am though. And so are Rhodey and Vision. And Peter. They're what matter. They're here. They didn't leave when things got rough, they stayed. And they've been the ones helping me fix everything. We're the ones who have been getting shit done, not him. I don't need him."

If you need me, I'll be there. (empty and broken, the door will never again open)

"I want him, but I don't need him," Tony sniffled again. "And I think that makes all the difference. I wish that...I wish that I could fix this. I'm a mechanic, it's what I do! And the mechanic in me is practically crying out to fix this. To put all the bent and mangled pieces back together. But I can't. Mechanics fix things...and they build things. And I'm going to fix what I can, and build what I can't fix. And I can't fix everything with him. All I can do is build something new. So that's what I'm going to do, I'm going to build. I'm going to create and invent and move on, even if I have to do it alone."

Steve couldn't breathe.

"Friday?" Tony's voice was no longer not quite a whisper but not loud enough to be anything else. "End recording."

Silence.

Steve's head remained in his right hand, his left trembling in his lap. Sam's hand hadn't left his knee and for that the Captain was grateful. Bucky's hand might have left his, but he never left his side. Steve shook and he felt tears threatening to spill from his eyes, squeezed shut tightly. He almost didn't hear the voice.

"Captain Rogers?" Friday's Irish lilt caused him to slowly bring his hand down a few inches, allowing his eyes to peek out at the now white screen. He was surprised to find the voice gentle and almost concerned. "Would you like a few minutes before we move on? I am able to wait to play the next video."

Steve took a few breaths. He was surprised when he managed to get an answer out. "Yes, thank you."

"Take all the time you need," Friday sounded understanding and Steve felt another wash of anguish flood through him.

Somehow he managed to get his legs to work. He rose from the couch, eyes down and not meeting anyone's gaze. Sam's hand lingered reassuringly on his knee for a brief moment before vanishing. Steve exited the common area and found his way to one of the rooms, his body acting on its own. He felt his knees give out as soon as the door closed and crumbled to the ground. The tears that had threatened to spill did so now, wet and hot streaks down his cheeks. And there the Captain sat, all alone in a dark room with Tony far, far away.

(stitches litter a mended heart, a broken one is left open to bleed)

~X~

Sam missed the compound. He missed Tony. And he missed Steve not being broken.

The vet leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and bringing his head in his hands. After a brief moment he changed to have his chin nestled in his hands comfortably. The empty spot between him and Barnes weighed deeply into the couch.

"Will he be okay?" It was Wanda who asked, her fingers trembling slightly as they toyed with the hem of her skirt.

Sam glanced at Barnes, silently asking permission, and answered when the other nodded. "I don't know Wanda. I don't know, but definitely not anytime soon."

The young women nodded solemnly and stared down at her shaking hands. "Will...will Stark be okay?"

Sam did not answer. And he didn't have to get permission from Barnes this time.

"I believe Anthony is currently faring better than that last video suggests," T'Challa told her. "But...but I thought he was doing well back in August as well. So I suppose I do not really know how he is."

Wanda looked up with concerned eyes. Scott chewed his bottom lip worriedly. And even Clint looked troubled. Sam was worried about Tony as well, but he was also worried about Steve. Steve who was broken and so very tired and who couldn't take this anymore either. Tony said they couldn't fix this but Sam didn't think they had a choice.

"So we've got about two months more worth of videos to get through?" Scott spoke up. "With an average of...about 3.25 videos per month that means we've got probably six or seven left."

"Not counting the one in May it's more likely eight," Clint mumbled, mostly to himself.

"What happens when we get to the end?" Wanda wondered out loud, probably asking Friday. The AI gave no answer.

"I don't know," Barnes said quietly. "But it feels like we're getting closer and closer to something. And I don't think we're gonna like it." Sam didn't either (children play with building blocks, tumbling down one by one).

"Has Sta-Tony said anything to you T'Challa?" Scott's use of the inventor's first name made Sam smile. Good on you, Tic-Tac. "Anything that would warrant Friday showing us these without his order to?"

T'Challa frowned and took a moment to answer, undoubtedly remembering their last encounter. "I last saw Mr. Stark merely two weeks ago. Everything seemed fine, he didn't say anything to arise suspicion."

The ex-Avengers sat in silence after that statement, each pondering why exactly they were all gathered there watching the man they had left behind. Sam could think of many possibilities why, and none of them were good. The room remained silent for another five or ten minutes until Steve returned.

No one said anything as he came back into the common area, his shirt slightly rumpled and his hair untidy. Sam saw the red in his eyes as the other man sat down soundlessly next to him. Steve didn't meet anyone else's eyes and Sam didn't blame him. He heard a soft whisper from Barnes and saw Steve's jerky, broken nod. No one said anything as their leader returned to them even more broken than when he left.

Friday did not welcome the Captain back, but the fading black screen was greeting enough. The screen changed to show Tony, unsurprisingly. He was wearing a the black leather jacket he had been wearing on the Raft all those days ago. Underneath was a plain gray shirt. Sam cleared his throat.

"September 6, 2016, 4:38 PM," he read. Sam heard how his voice wavered slightly but he didn't care. Silence followed his words until the image became fluid, Tony moving slightly, getting comfortable in his chair.

"Alright," the genius smiled and Sam felt better, "last time I was here things got very sad and very weird. Never again! Tony Stark does not dwell on the past, he looks towards the future. Or at least that's what the magazines tell me."

The playful smirk that glowed on Tony's face made Sam both happy and worried. (masquerades of faces on display, paper faces hiding shades of dismay)

"This time," the smirk morphed into a genuine smile, "this time I have news. Good news. Great news in fact! News that I can't really share with anyone else. Well, except Rhodey, Vision, Peter, and Pepper. But they already know and for the foreseeable future will be the only ones to know."

Sam felt his brow furrow in confusion and saw Scott lean forward.

"So now I'm sharing it with a camera, because that's completely sane," a raise of eyebrows. "Anyway…."

Tony trailed off and looked out at something beyond the camera. "I wish that I could take you to it, it's right next to here actually, but I can't. Rhodey and Vision are upstairs and it would be weird if they were to walk in on me filming a building all alone. There would be several questions that I, frankly, never want to have to answer! It was a miracle that Pepper agreed to keep this between me and her. Not that she sees these though, that would be weird too."

Sam suddenly felt a wave of guilt, realizing that, although they were doing so involuntarily, watching these videos was invading Tony's privacy.

"Besides," the billionaire turned back to the camera, "it's not like there's a whole lot to see. Just a building really. An incredibly amazing awesome building, but a building nonetheless. Getting it constructed was an absolute nightmare. I designed it, of course, but finding people to build the thing...good Lord. Absolute nightmare. Had to use so many retroreflectors and payed off several mouths to keep them shut and just...please kill me. It took a lot is what I'm getting at. Because building a super secret facility it one thing, building an underground super secret facility is an entirely different thing. And we didn't even build this facility, we just renovated it. And then stuck a giant A on the roof. Not our brightest idea, but no going back now."

Scott let out a small chuckle at that and Sam smiled with him. Subtlety had never been Tony's forte.

"This newer building, however, does not have a giant A on its roof," the genius pointed out. "You can't even see its roof. Because it's underground. I mean...it is still right next door, literally. Like, the entrance to it is one door down from this lab. So...not entirely secure, but hey, we've got top notch defense systems. So it should be fine...right?"

The questioning look Tony gave the camera was one part hilarious and one part worrying. Barnes let out a snort.

"Eh, it's worked well so far. We'll be fine," Tony waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Anyway, back on topic. New facility, been built. Looks hella dope." Oh my God Tony. "But what's really dope about it isn't what it looks like, it's what it's for that's dope. I need to stop saying 'dope', I'm forty-six. Anyone above the age of thirty shouldn't be saying 'dope'."

Tony took a minute to sigh heavily and look directly below the camera with a distressed gaze. Sam, at thirty-seven, could only try to sympathize.

"Anyway. Why can't I ever stay on topic?" Tony asked himself before continuing. "The purpose of this new super secret underground facility was inspired by our friendly neighborhood Spider-Kid. Didn't let him have any design input though. This facility is for people like him. Our younger heros."

Sam leaned back into the sofa while Scott leaned forward. He saw Barnes furrow his brow in interest and Steve look on in sad curiosity. Clint tilted his head in confusion and Wanda bit her lower lip. T'Challa shifted slightly in his seat, but his eyes were sparked with inquiry.

"See, as soon as I realized exactly who Peter is and exactly how old he is, I got a bit…concerned," Tony started. "It's one thing to have superpowers, it's a completely different thing to have them as a teenager. Most of us didn't choose to be heros, yours truly excluded from that statistic, but at least we were older when...whatever happened to us happened. Whether it be building a badass suit or getting gamma radiation poisoning. But Peter...Peter was fifteen when he got bitten by some random ass genetically enhanced arachnid."

Jesus. Scott let out a low whistle.

"And he's not the only one out there," Tony continued on the screen. "I mean, he's the only kid out there with spider powers...I hope. But not the only one out there with powers! He can't be. The Maximoffs weren't exactly kids when they got their powers, but they were still very young. It seems like everyday there's something on the news about a possible new hero in some city. And I still haven't figured out what that weird blue shit in Missouri was.

"There's so much happening, all the time. New heros are popping up and with them so are new enemies. It's...it's insane. But hopefully this new place will help to lessen the insanity. A bit. By like 0.3%."

The exasperated yet hopeful look in Tony's eyes was achingly familiar and Sam couldn't look away. (regret the things you haven't done, I haven't told the truth)

"So this new facility is for them. For the kids," Tony said. "Because they are out there and they are scared. They need somewhere where they can learn more about their abilities and how to use them. Somewhere where they can just be themselves without hiding their powers from everyone around them. Somewhere where where they can be with other people like them and they can feel at home. Somewhere where they can be safe.

"Because Peter was scared and alone. He had his aunt, but she still doesn't know. And now he has me, and Rhodey, and Vision. He's safest when he's with us. He has a new suit now and actual training. He can call for backup when he needs it. He's in a better place now, with us. I can't stop him from doing what he does, but I can at least protect him. Or try to. And I need to do that for the others.

"Not all of them will want to use their abilities, and I won't want them to, but they'll still need to learn. Learn how they work and how they came by them. Learn to control them. To protect themselves because even if they don't use them others will want to. And for those who choose to use them I'll do the same I'm doing with Peter. I'll keep them safe. Whatever it takes."

Clint and Scott were looking at the man on the screen in shock and Sam wondered how they could be surprised. How they could have missed this about the man in the suit. (eyes are deceiving things, look with them and nothing you shall see)

"I've been working on this for a while now, since even before shit hit the fan," this surprised Sam, and apparently Steve too. "I've been designing the building itself, training simulations for teenagers, keeping everything secret. I told everyone about it a few months ago. And we finished construction yesterday. Didn't think it'd be done that fast, but I'm a billionaire so what'd I think was gonna happen?"

A snort from Barnes.

"And because the building is now built and hidden," Tony continued, "it can now officially have a name. I've been thinking about this ever since the idea formed in my brain. The facility isn't really as much of a facility as it is a school, really. The kids will actually learn there and they'll have rooms in case they have to stay the night for any reason. Right now it's just Peter, but I expect to come across more powered teens soon. But yes, the name."

Tony leaned over to the left and grabbed something off of the table. He brought up a piece of wood, a plaque of some sort. He flipped it around as he said his next words, "The Pietro Maximoff Institute!"

The gold letters attached to the front of the plaque caused Wanda's hand to fly to her mouth in utter astonishment. The others looked just as surprised, and Steve smiled for the first time since he'd returned.

"This baby will be going up somewhere in the new building, not sure where yet," Tony told the camera as he set the plaque down, out of their view. His face grew serious. "I didn't...I didn't really know Pietro. In fact I barely even talked to him before...you know. But Wanda talked about him, sometimes. And Vision's told me some of what she told him. He...he sounded like a good kid. Everything he did he did to protect his family, to protect Wanda and his country. He was just trying to do some good," In this stupid, fucked up world "even if some of it ended up being the opposite.

"He was just a kid who grew up in a war torn world. He was scared and alone and did what he and his sister thought was right. And then he got some crazy powers and was probably even more scared and even more alone. And he used them to do what he thought was good, and then to do what was actually good. And he died because of that. I don't want that to happen to these kids. I really don't. I want to teach them how to use their powers for good, I want them to know that they're not alone and that it's okay to be scared. I want to keep them safe. Pietro was never safe. But he tried to keep Wanda safe. And he'd want these kids to be safe. At least I think he would. That's why I chose him for the name. He wouldn't want anyone to be as scared and alone as he was. And I'm gonna try to make sure that doesn't happen again."

A tear rolled down Wanda's cheek and she didn't wipe it away. The lower half of her face was painted with a small, genuine smile and she nodded her head slightly. T'Challa was smiling too. Clint was staring at Tony, baffled, and Scott was looking at the genius with a new kind of wonder. Barnes looked at the screen, his expression giving nothing away except approval. And Steve was smiling a real and bright smile through his pain. Sam smiled with him.

"Well," Tony said, glancing around, "I think that's it for today. I've got some new stuff to install for Friday, so we can better detect possible new enhanced individuals, and then I'm gonna show Peter around the finished Institute. He's been itching to go in ever since they started constructing it."

Tony moved to get up, "Friday, bring up the schematics and end the recording." There was a brief flash of familiar blue before the screen cut to black.

"T'Challa?" Wanda spoke right away, wiping away the lone tear. The King turned to her and inclined his head. "Can you tell Stark thank you from me as well?"

T'Challa's smile grew, "Of course Ms. Maximoff, it would be my pleasure." Wanda's smile grew too and Sam looked at her proudly. (days and days gone by, the sun is finally shining through)

The screen stayed black for a short while and then faded again to show Tony, wearing a Stark Industries shirt.

"September 13, 2016, 6:17 PM," Sam read, eagerly awaiting whatever the man was going to unwillingly share with them. Shortly after he spoke the image turned fluid and Tony stretched his arms behind his head, arching his back like a cat.

"When I said I thought we'd come across more superpowered teenagers soon I didn't mean this soon," Tony looked slightly exasperated. Sam leaned forward with interest. "But not three days after we finished the Institute the world decided to have a field day of weird shit. And by field day of weird shit I mean some random mist that covered Jersey City that still no one can explain."

"What?" Scott jutted his head forward. No one had an answer, and apparently neither did Tony.

"It wasn't bad mist or anything, it didn't hurt anyone," he went on, "but it definitely wasn't normal. I don't think very many people down in Jersey thought much of it. At the time a lot of people were freaking the fuck out, and there are still a few, like the weird guy I saw on the street holding a "FEAR THE MIST" sign, but by now it's old news. It seemed odd to me so I flew down to check it out, make sure it wasn't a terrorist attack or anything.

"My gal Friday though, she noticed something...odd in the chemical makeup of the mist and alerted me. And now, four days later, I still have no idea what this shit is. It's nothing like anything I've seen before and in a way it reminds me of the Tesseract. Not that they're very similar, but they're both just...foreign. Not from Earth. Not human. I'm still not sure where the mist came from, maybe if Thor was still around I could ask him...but for now...I got nothing. I'm thinking of contacting Jane Foster and seeing if she'll help me out. Yeah...I'll do that."

Tony tilted his head, looking up, as if committing something to memory.

"And then Friday was able to detect a concentration of the mist on some random street corner," the man continued his tale. "So I flew over and there was this weird ass shell looking thing, really more like a cocoon. No one else was around, and even if they had been the mist was blocking everything. I didn't want to break the cocoon, could've been dangerous, so I had Friday scan it. She identified a lifeforce inside, human. The cocoon was made of the same shit the mist was made of, unidentifiable, probably alien, shit because the universe loves to torture me.

"I waited there for a while, suit on and everything. Then the thing started to make noise, like whoever was on the inside was banging on the shell. Soon enough there was a crack and this huge fist broke through. And, before I knew it, this tiny girl, we're talking barely taller than Natasha, pops out. Her fist is huge, way too big compared to the rest of her, and she's about to pass out. So, like the gentleman that I am, I hold her up and ask her if she's okay. She rambles about only having one sip and spitting it out, so I'm guessing she was at some party. Kids these days."

The head shake he gave the camera caused Wanda to let out a giggle and Barnes a snort. Sam smiled to himself.

"Anyway, the girl didn't pass out, thank the Lord. She eventually got herself together, and then promptly started freaking out about how big her hand was," Tony continued his story with wild hand gestures. "I tried to calm her down but then she started freaking out because I'm Iron Man. This went on for about ten minutes until she finally relaxed enough for her to somehow get her hand to normal size. I took off the suit and sent it back to the compound until I needed it again, seemed best to look like a normal person around her.

"So we go for a little walk in Jersey City. She tells me what happened: she snuck out to go to a party, she left, this weird mist appeared, she started feeling woozy, she passed out, woke up in that weird cocoon and punched her way out. With a giant fist. That she has no idea how she got. And while we're walking and talking, having a chill time in Jersey, we suddenly hear a very girlish scream.

"Both of us start booking it towards this dock, close to where this party she left was, just in time to see a girl's hand slip into the water. This guy on the dock is freaking the ever loving fuck out, he's drunk out of his mind. I don't have my suit, so I tell the girl she'll have to save the other girl. She has no idea how to control whatever happened to her, and she doesn't want her schoolmates to know about whatever happened to her. Understandable. So I rip off my tie, stab a couple of holes in it with my pen, and wrap it around her face. Perfect, right?"

Jesus Christ Tony. At this point Scott and Wanda were full on laughing and both Barton and Barnes were smirking. Steve was smiling brightly, all sadness forgotten for the time being, and even T'Challa was grinning broadly. Sam looked around at the people before him and smiled softly (it had been so long).

"She doesn't really think so, but hey, that girl was gonna die," Tony looked at the camera pointedly. "So she rips off her jacket and rushes over to the water, I stay hidden in the bushes like the professional spy that I am. She yells something at her hand, 'Embiggen!' I'm pretty sure, and somehow that works. Her hand grows to the same giant size as before. She scoops the other girl out of the water, along with a lot of muck and garbage, and places her on the dock. Before anyone can recognize her or her clothes she runs off, smart girl, and finds me. We both book it again. Her hand is still huge, I'm missing my tie. Everything is a mess.

"We stop in some shady ass alleyway, why I thought that was a good idea we may never know. She's trying to get her hand to shrink again. Doesn't work like it did last time. Things aren't looking good, she's starting to hyperventilate. I'm not good at controlling my own anxiety, so helping someone else with it is beyond me. Somehow I managed to get her to breathe normally, no idea how. Somehow she manages to get her hand normal, no idea how. And then she starts crying. And I'm...well I'm me! I don't know how to handle emotional teenagers who just got weird ass powers and don't know what the fuck is going on!"

The laughter that filled the room in Wakanda bounced off the walls and reflected back towards Sam.

"Miraculously I get her to stop crying, through a lot of calm words and hugs and shit, I don't know. It was stressful, I was stressed. Fun times. But after she calmed down I walked her back to her house. She gave me back my ruined tie, I gave her my personal contact information. She climbed through her window, I heard some yelling from who I'm guessing were her parents, and I called my suit to come back and then flew home. Overall...a pretty eventful day."

Tony slunk down into his chair, letting out a huff of air.

"Just recounting it has exhausted me," he said. "Anyway, she contacted me the next day and I was able to arrange for her to come and visit me here at the compound without anyone seeing her get here. She met Rhodey and Vision, got to see the Institute, and we started running tests. So far...nothing. We have basically no idea what that mist was or what that cocoon was or what happened to her. So until we figure that impossible shit out, say hello to Kamala Khan!"

Tony swiped a blue hologram up that showed a picture of a brown-skinned girl in an ushanka hat and a zipped up blue and white jacket with a yellow lightning bolt on it. In the photo, probably from a social media sight, she was smiling and an orange and blue clad arm was swung across her shoulder, moving her brown hair forward.

"She's a sixteen year old Pakistani-American living in Jersey City with her parents and older brother," Tony rambled on. "Whatever the mist did to her made her a polymorph. What is a polymorph? A polymorph is someone who can take on a variety of appearances. Kamala here has what we call morphogenetics, meaning that she can change the shape and size of her body at will. Hence the giant hand. We've also discovered these past few days that she can also alter her appearance to some extent, like changing her hair and clothes. So that's trippy. And she has somewhat of a healing factor, although we're hesitant to test that for obvious reasons."

"Damn," Scott whistled.

"The kid's handling it reasonably well, considering," Tony said. "There was a small incident involving a robbery the other day, no one got seriously hurt. I mean, Kamala got shot, that's how we figured out she could heal quickly. But now her friend Bruno knows. He seems like a chill kid though, it should be fine. He apparently has some science project that could help us make something for Kamala to wear when she transforms, something that'll change with her so she doesn't have to focus on transforming her clothes as well as her body.

"I have made it clear, however, that there shall be no superheroing unless absolutely necessary. She is meant to focus on work and her friends. No fighting crime. Not yet. We've arranged for her to come here a few days a week, Jersey City is only like half an hour away, for training and tests and the like. She's technically grounded, but her parents are letting her come and "intern" with me."

Tony put finger quotes around the word intern and Barton scoffed.

"She seems to be a pretty cool kid, though," Tony nodded. "She's obsessed with superheros, the Avengers in particular. She's very energetic and is raring to go. I am both excited and scared for her to meet Peter. Her friend Bruno is pretty into science, so hopefully I can get him to come over here some, too. Peter and him will definitely get on well."

Tony leaned back and sighed. "I'm...I'm really happy that I decided to check on that mist. Because if I didn't...who knows what Kamala would be up to? Fighting bird-people in shady houses, I don't know. I'm glad that I found her and that now we can help her. One day she'll make a great hero, one that other little girls can look up to."

The smile that Tony gave them was real and bright and filled Sam with a sense of hope that he hadn't felt in a very long while. (raise your head dear child, the sun is rising)

"Well...I think that's all I have for today," the genius said. "Friday, end recording."

Cut to black.

"So he's actually doing it?" Barnes spoke first. "He's actually taking younger 'enhanced individuals' and teaching them?"

"Of course he is," Steve told his friend, speaking for the first time since his departure. No one said anything else as the screen remained black.

Sam missed Tony. Even more now. He missed the compound. He missed Rhodey and Natasha and Vision. He missed everyone being themselves and not...whatever they were now. Sam missed what he had chosen to leave behind. (build the blocks up one by one, watch them fall when you've won)

~X~

T'Challa often wondered what his father would think of his son now. If he would be proud that he had taken in the runaways. Or if he'd be ashamed that he had gone against the laws his father had helped put into place. The King of Wakanda did not know which one it would be, although he hoped for the former. Hoped that his father would approve of his choice to shelter those who could not shelter themselves, no matter their wrongdoings. And what wrongdoings they were.

T'Challa had not forgotten what Captain Rogers and his band of merry men had done, despite what they seemed to think. The videos had only reminded him strongly of their actions. But their reactions had shown him much more. He had not been aware of how affected the Captain had truly been by the whole ordeal five months prior. Nor how badly Mr. Stark had been doing since then, either. (Truth is the first victim of war.)

T'Challa watched as the screen in front of them evolved into a picture of the one Tony Stark, wearing a dark blue suit.

"September 19, 2016, 8:08 PM," Mr. Wilson read off in an interested and uplifted voice. One that T'Challa had rarely ever heard. Soon the man in the picture stirred and began to speak. T'Challa sat back and let the words of the man he had come to think of as a friend fill his ears.

"So I've just come back from a very long and endless meeting at the UN," Tony started. At this sentence all present visibly became more interested, as they usually did when the Accords were brought up. "After a lot of lengthy discussion we actually got something done for a change. The panel members are now allowed to sit in on Accord meetings and give their input, so that's cool. And with Ross given the boot Representative Power can actually get stuff done. With the election coming up that could all change though, so fingers crossed no one horrible wins. Also, before I get into serious business, it's noteworthy to mention that Monaco has now signed and ratified the Sokovia Accords and rumor has it that Grenada and Nauru are planning on it soon."

A rumor that proved to be true as T'Challa remembered vividly.

"Okay, onto actual news," Stark quirked one eyebrow at the camera. "So, best thing that has happened recently is that the detainment without trial part of the Accords is officially gone. Which is beyond awesome. Wasn't really that hard to argue, almost all governments have something in place about right to a fair trial. From now on all enhanced individuals are to be judged by a jury of their peers, so all is well in that department. Also, since Ross's departure the Raft has gone through some more than serious reforms and actually is a decent prison now. Decent prison sounds like an oxymoron, but trust me on this. Article thirty-seven of the Conventions on the Rights of a Child was enough to ensure a proper facility to detain and hold enhanced individuals, given that some of them may end up being children. Also Articles five through eleven of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

"What else has happened? Well, enhanced individuals no longer have to wear tracking bracelets. That part was never really enforced, at least not yet, but now it never will be. That debate did get rather heated though, ended with Representative Rosselli yelling at Representative Martins 'They're not our pet dogs, they're people!'. So that was fun. Another thing that's happened since last I talked about this shit is that enhanced individuals will no longer be forced to submit DNA and fingerprints and stuff, although it is heavily encouraged. I'll be doing that, but I operate in a metal suit, so...not really gonna help them. All will have to undergo a power analysis, however. To register their threat level and project possible health risks. I'm hoping they let me in on that part, seeing as I have more experience than most in that area."

T'Challa had been working with Cebesa to let that hope become a reality.

"I don't know, I'm really striving for there to be a position in the UN subcommittee for the Sokovia Accords to help newer heros get acquainted with the UN and their procedures," Tony went on. "And there will be a subcommittee! That's another thing I need to discuss on these.

"Since they were ratified the Accords have been amended and reformed by the General Assembly because they're such an important matter currently. But such a matter will eventually need to be given its own private subcommittee and the General Assembly will have to go back to focusing on their usual issues and matters. Such a committee will need to have members chosen, and that whole situation will most likely be left to the new Secretary General who's going to be elected in less than a month. So we'll have to wait until January, when they assume office, which should be good timing for when the Accords business settles down."

"Who's the new Secretary General?" Scott asked the room. The lack of response was alarming and frankly T'Challa wasn't that surprised at this point. (When the roots of a tree begin to decay, it spreads death to the branches.)

"António Guterres," the King addressed the whole room. When they looked at him he added, "I'm sure Anthony will speak about him later on."

Before anyone could say anything else the man on the screen spoke again. "We're still not entirely sure what to do about minors. The main problem is how are we supposed to know if a masked individual is a minor? Honestly I don't really know how I feel about the whole thing. Am I allowed to do that? Am I allowed to just not know how I feel? Am I allowed to not have an opinion on something?

"There's a line like that from the book Unwind, 'Maybe it's the best answer of all. If more people could admit they really don't know, maybe there never would have been a Heartland War.' The Heartland War was this big thing in the book, which Peter made me read after he read it for school. It was really good actually, very interesting. Anway! That quote really...I dunno, hit me. Admitting you don't know what to do is often better than hastingly making a decision without actually believing in it. There's another good quote, too. 'In a perfect world everything would be either black or white, right or wrong, and everyone would know the difference. But this isn't a perfect world. The problem is people who think it is.' If everyone in the world were to read that book I think the world would be a distinctly better place."

Silence reigned its crown topped head over the room in Wakanda. T'Challa couldn't help but glance at Steven. He was looking at the screen with a thoughtful yet sad gaze (A person who will not take advice gets knowledge when trouble overtakes him).

"The biggest Accords news is that the Personal Contracts have been approved! They've passed!" Anthony smiled broadly and T'Challa returned his focus to the screen. "I've already touched on them before and gone in depth about how they work, so I won't explain them again. But yes, they've been officially added to the Accords. As of now the only masked individual I'm really working with and that has really been around lately is our resident Spider-Kid.

"I've been talking with Peter about it and we've been coming to an agreement on how he wants to proceed with his involvement with the Accords. The UN, and the whole world really, knows that I know him. Or that I know Spider-Man, really, so it's only a matter of time before they start pressing me on what his plans are. I'm trying not to put too much pressure on Peter, but I can tell that he's getting stressed. I can't really confirm what our plans are for how to proceed, but it looks like I'll probably be his voucher. And most likely will end up being Kamala's, if she ever is 'introduced' to the public as an enhanced individual. A part of me really doesn't want that to happen, just wants her to stay as she is, but I know that won't happen. She's going to...she's going to be something great. And I shall be proud of her yet utterly terrified. Oh God is this what being a parent is like?"

Wanda let out a giggle and T'Challa caught Rogers smiling sadly.

"That's another thing!" Stark exclaimed. "I think that's it for the Accords, so I suppose I can change topic. Kamala has been adjusting quite well to everything. She's been coming by often, she and Peter met about five days ago. I was right, they are terrifying together. So much noise. But they've trained together once so far, and that went very well. Once they're older I think they'll make a great team. Yesterday I was talking to Rho-"

Anthony was cut off quite abruptly by Friday. "Boss, there is an emergency in Lake Michigan, near eastern Wisconsin."

Tony's face changed drastically, shifting from light and casual to dark and serious. The whole room in Wakanda seemed to tense up. "Has the Panel asked for just me or for everyone?"

"The Panel has yet to reach a majority decision, however Dr. Gates has recommended that you start on your way there as it seems that they are leaning towards sending you."

Tony jumped up and could be heard moving about the room, the sound of clothes being thrown off and flung to the floor sounded throughout the otherwise quiet room. "Who's cast their vote so far?"

"Dr. Gates, Ms. Chunying, and Mr. Lambert. The situation was only brought to their attention a few minutes ago, luckily they were already gathered for dinner after the meeting earlier this evening."

"And what exactly is the situation?"

"A small black hole, appearing to be about ten feet wide, has appeared over Lake Michigan, close to Sheboygan, Wisconsin."

Anthony could now be seen in front of the camera, fully donned in what T'Challa assumed was his under armour suit. "What?!" he cried, eyebrows raised to the heavens.

"A small black hole, appearing to-"

"I heard you the first time!" Tony scrambled off screen again. "A black hole? What the actual fuck?!" He sighed very loudly and very exasperatingly. "Just get the suit ready, Friday."

"Of course, Boss. Would you like me to end the recording as well?"

"Wait that's still on? Yes, yes, end it! And then patch me into the Panel and inform Rhodey and Vision of what's going on."

The screen changed to black without anymore warning and the group in Wakanda was left to themselves once more.

"A...a black hole?" Barton voiced his thoughts slowly.

"Don't remember that in the news," Scott raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do you watch the news?" Barnes asked. Scott gave him the stink-eye in response and the seriousness of the past minute or so deteriorated. T'Challa fund solace knowing that he had spoken to Anthony a mere two weeks ago, so the black hole couldn't have done much damage. Slowly the black screen evolved into a picture of the billionaire in a black shirt and the noise in Wakanda quieted.

"September 22, 2016, 2:31 PM," Sam read the numbers off with laughter still ringing in his voice. The picture soon changed and the Tony onscreen shifted. He gave the camera a long and hard exasperated look.

"So there was a black hole," he said. "A black hole, over Lake Michigan. Only ten feet in diameter. That was there for maybe twenty minutes. And then disappeared. Because, you know, physics exist!"

Anthony threw his hands up in frustration.

"And that's not even the weirdest part," he pointed at the camera. "The weirdest part is this kid."

Tony flipped up another hologram, this one showing a young man. He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. His blue eyes were covered slightly by a mop of shaggy brown hair and he was smiling casually while standing in front of a yacht, his blue flannel over shirt bellowing in the wind.

"This is Greg Willis, an eighteen year old high school graduate from Sheboygan, Wisconsin," Tony started, obviously trying to contain his annoyance. "He's your average kid. Got accepted to NYU, going to study licensing and merchandising there. His parents own a yacht company that he worked at before graduating. He went back there about a month after school started to help his parents with something for a couple days. They went out on one of their yachts, so he could enjoy himself one more time before he headed back to New York. They were having a fun time, hanging out as a family. And then, you know, black hole happened."

To say Stark looked a little peeved would have been a drastic understatement.

"His parents went down in the cabin, smart idea. But, because this black hole kinda caused a giant ass storm, Greg here wasn't able to make it into the cabin. Instead, he got sucked into the black hole."

"Oh shit," Barton muttered as the rest of the group tensed visibly.

"And, got spit back out," Tony drolled. "Because, again, physics exist. He's perfectly fine, don't worry about it. Well, he's not hurt or anything. He does, however, now possess the power to push and pull matter and basically control gravity. But he's fine."

The tension in the room in Wakanda regressed but interest soared. Scott leaned forward and Wanda tilted her head.

"Okay first of all," Tony adjusted himself, irritation shooting though the screen, "how does a black hole just appear like that? Second, how does someone get sucked in and survive? And third, how in the everloving fuck does someone gain an ability to manipulate gravity out of that experience?! Your guess is as good as mine!

"At least now we know that gravitons actually exist, so Dmitrii Blokhintsev and F. Gal'perin can be happy now. Nevermind, they're dead. Well, they can rest easy then. Gravitons which this college kid can now control and practically wears as a second skin. I'm sure those two would be so very glad to hear that that is a thing now. A thing that exists and is now a thing and someone please kill me."

Tony once again threw his hands up.

"I did not sign up for this!" he exclaimed. "I did not sign up for random ass black holes challenging the laws of the universe and eighteen year olds controlling gravity. I did not sign up for it! Real talk though, Greg is a really cool kid and I actually like him. But that is not the point! The point is that none of this makes any sense! At least with Kamala I can say that it was probably alien. At least we know that the mist did something to her DNA, or possibly her blood, we're still not entirely sure. But at least we have a possible explanation. With Greg so far he's just there! Just there, surviving a black hole and controlling gravitons. Honestly!"

Now everyone in Wakanda was either laughing or smiling at Tony's frustration. T'Challa hid his own grin behind his hand.

"I'm just...I'm done," Tony said. "I give up, I'm done. You know what? I bet it was Loki, that little shit. Thor said he was dead but that fucker faked his death once, he can do it again. Bet he did it just to mess with me that asshole…."

Scott looked up in genuine confusion while Barton barked with laughter.

"Anyway...Greg," Tony took a few deep breaths. "Like I said, he's actually a pretty cool guy. No one else saw him get sucked into the black hole, as far as the world knows he just got thrown off of the ship during the storm. I'm keeping him a secret from the UN for now, he's not any of their concern until he actually starts using his powers to...fight crime or whatever. I told him the same thing I told Kamala, no superheroing unless absolutely necessary. Luckily for both of them they're so close to the compound that should anything major happen we should be able to handle it and they can just continue with their lives as normal.

"Another plus for them both living so close is that coming to the compound for training and shit is fairly simple. NYU is close enough, so Greg can come by when he's not in class or out with friends. He's pretty excited to start learning how to use his new powers and isn't at all concerned with how he got them. Whatever. We have now also learned that he can use his new powers to...condense gravity? I guess? He can create these concussive blasts is what I'm getting at. And also fly, so that's cool. He can change the weight of things, too. But all of that takes a great deal of concentration, so we're gonna be working on that with him for the foreseeable future. He hasn't met Peter and Kamala yet, but he will soon. The Pietro Maximoff Institute now officially has three members! So that's fun."

Wanda smiled and T'Challa saw sadness in Steven's eyes. (A doctor who invoked a storm on his people cannot prevent his house from destruction.)

"So, again, a very eventful few days," Anthony flashed a strained grin. "I'm gonna go and work on some new training simulations for Greg until I can't see straight anymore. End the recording, will you Friday?"

The screen changed to black once more and the room in Wakanda was not left in silence for long.

"That's another kid for Stark," Barton started slowly. "How do you think he's doing with them?"

"It sounds like he's doing fine," Wilson turned toward the archer. "I mean...it's good that he's seeking them out. Giving them somewhere where they can train and learn."

T'Challa nodded slowly in agreement but focused his attention on Captain Rogers. The man sat staring at the empty and blank screen, waiting worriedly for the next video to start. His eyes were full of such sadness that it made T'Challa frown slightly. The Captain had done wrong, yes, but all wrongdoings could be forgiven. Couldn't they?

T'Challa often wondered what his father would think of his son now. If he would be proud or ashamed. If he would approve of what he had done or if he would be angered by T'Challa's actions. The Wakandan King did not know what his father would think of him, but he knew what he himself thought of Anthony Stark. And of Steven Rogers. (If you are building a house and a nail breaks, do you stop building or do you change the nail?)

~X~

Scott never found time very hard to keep track of in prison. People always said that you lost count of the days after a while, that eventually the nights blurred into one another and you forgot. But when you're in prison you can't lose track. Not when you have a family waiting. Scott had seen others forget, those who had left nothing behind on the other side of those cement walls. Those like him kept count though, those who had something to get back to. But here….

Scott still had something to get back to, but now he didn't know when. Now he couldn't keep track because what was the point? Counting the days only let him know how long he'd been away from Cassie. It was better to just forget. Forget how many days and to let the nights blur together. Sleeping and waking in an endless cycle that trailed off in both directions. (You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting.)

Now all of the days were being counted off for him. As Sam read off each timestamp it was another week or so adding up to the five months of Scott's absence. And why? Because Stark's father took some of Hank's tech back in the eighties? Because Scott read Captain America comics when he was a kid? Scott didn't care. He didn't care if he'd made the wrong choice. If Stark had been right all along. If he shouldn't have listened to Clint and Sam. If Steve had made all the wrong decisions. If all of this had been for nothing. All he cared about was getting back. Being home again. Not being one of the empty souls he'd seen inside those cement walls, the ones with nothing to get back to, who didn't tick off the days until they were free. The ones with nothing to hope for.

And as the darkened screen changed into one of a tired looking man, dark circles under his eyes and a jacket slipping off his shoulders, Scott prayed he had something left to hope for.

"October 5, 2016, 12:00 AM," Sam's voice dripped ever so slightly with worry and concern. Scott waited with his legs stretched out in front of him, waited for the man on the TV to move. And he did.

Scott had noticed that Tony didn't always start speaking right away. As if he sometimes turned on the camera even before he knew what he wanted to say. This video was one of those. Tony sat, his chin perched on one hand, his eyes not entirely focused on the camera in front of him. It was a while before he did anything. Without speaking he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small item. He held it in his hand, out of view of the screen, before taking it between the thumb and index finger of his left hand and showing it to the camera.

It was a bronze coin, barely bigger than a poker chip. A small triangle was engraved in the middle of it, the roman numeral I in its center with a circle around it. On each side of the triangle were the words "UNITY", "SERVICE", and "RECOVERY". Inscribed along the edge of the coin was a phrase, "TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE". It didn't take a Masters in engineering to figure out what it was for.

"One year," Tony set the coin down in front of him, out of their line of sight. "One full year. And not one. Single. Drop."

Based on the wide eyes around him Scott could deduce that this was a surprise to even those closest to Stark. Even to the Captain, who's mouth was slightly parted in shock.

"I haven't told anyone," Stark went on. "No one even knows that I've been...you know. Five months after Sokovia and I just...had to do something, I guess. I didn't want anyone to know. Didn't think I'd actually succeed. Didn't want anyone to...to see me fail. I was going to tell Rogers, once I hit six months, but…. I don't know. Guess all of us have secrets."

At this the mentioned man flinched and Scott felt a swell of sadness in his usually warm heart. (The colder the winter, the warmer the spring. The deeper the sorrow, the more our hearts sing.)

"It hasn't been easy," Tony continued. "Especially these past four or five months. God it's been awful. Right after shit hit the fan I thought that I was going to throw it all away. But then I started thinking of Peter and I just...I couldn't let him down like that.

"Recently I've been thinking about what I said a while back, about building something new. For myself. This is...this is part of that. And I'm not about to throw it all away. I literally built a new life for myself. I built Rhodey new legs, I built the Charlie Spencer Foundation, I built the Pietro Maximoff Institute, I've built us some structure within the Sokovia Accords. I built that. That was me."

Scott couldn't help but smile along with the man on the screen. It was as if Tony was suddenly seeing himself in a new light, and Scott was as well.

"I've been completely sober for one year!" he cried happily. "That was all me! No one else. I was the one who found Kamala and Greg, I'm the one who's been helping them. I...I'm better now. These past five months have sucked ass, but they've also been pretty fucking awesome. I dunno, maybe that's just how life is. It sucks ass but is still fucking awesome at that same time. That's the most profound shit you'll ever get out of me."

Barnes let out a snort and Scott a chuckle.

"This one is very short, but I just thought I'd...you know, document it," Tony frowned. "Because reasons. Friday...end the recording."

The screen faded to the familiar black and Scott looked around at his new team (a team with no leader isn't a team at all).

"That's...surprising," Barton was the first to speak.

"Not really," Sam countered, seeming to speak more to himself than to the others. "I mean, if you think about it. I'm more surprised none of us noticed."

The Captain remained silent and so did Scott. What would he have to say? He'd never even really met the guy (Who's speaking? It's your conscience. We don't talk a lot these days). All he could do was sit in silence and think about the seven days added to his tally as the screen faded again to show Stark. This time in a white Inglourious Basterds hoodie, Brad Pitt's face staring out at them in a black outline with the rest of the cast around him.

"October 14, 2016, 11:44 AM," Sam read. Nine more days.

"You know what, I don't really think very many people understand what the United Nations is," Tony started when the image started moving. "I mean, enough people refer to it as a government. So...it's reasonable to say no one really understands it. To clarify, it's not a government, it's an intergovernmental organization. Big difference. And the purpose of the UN is not in fact, despite many people thinking it is for some unknown reason, to create some perfect Utopia for everyone to live in. Because that's fucking ridiculous."

Scott's eyes darted between each member of the group in Wakanda, gauging their reactions. All seemed to be intrigued, although slightly affronted. Better than angry, he supposed.

"I think Dag Hammarskjöld said it best, 'The UN was not created to take mankind to heaven, but to save humanity from hell'," Stark leaned back slightly. "There is no Utopia that mankind can live in. All we can do is the best we can with what we're given. It's utterly imbecilic to think that there's a version of Earth where every single person is happy and the whole world is peaceful. That's never going to happen and anyone who thinks that it is is living in a naive fantasy world that's eventually going to suffocate them and their idiotic ideology!"

Stark to a moment to breathe and in this moment those in the common room sat in a stunned silence. A silence which Scott broke.

"Sounds like someone needs a Snickers…," he trailed off under Sam's disapproving glare.

"Sorry," Stark apologized. "People make me angry. Especially ignorant idealists. I was going to talk about other stuff in this but I got sidetracked. My apologies. Anyway...we have a new Secretary General now. Well, not exactly. He's been elected now, won't be instated until January. His name is António Guterres."

Tony swiped at the air and one of his blue holograms appeared, this one showed an older man with silver hair and sagging cheeks.

"He seems like a pretty chill guy," Tony continued, glancing at the image to his right. "I should have been following this whole thing more closely, but I've been pretty busy lately. Guterres seems like a good choice though, he has a lot of experience. He's a member of the Socialist Party in Portugal, was the Prime Minister of Portugal for eight years, and was the High Commissioner for Refugees for two terms at the UN. He did a lot of stuff with Syrian refugees and administered necessary reforms to the UN refugee department. Probably did the best anyone could have done during what was, is, the worst displacement crisis since World War II.

"As for his education and background, he studied physics and electrical engineering. While in school he earned the National Lyceums Award, which basically means he was the best student in the entire country. So that's pretty prestigious. He apparently was slightly homophobic back in the day, but then again so was everyone back then and he seems to have turned over a new leaf. I'll let it slide. Also his views on abortion aren't exactly ideal, at least from my standpoint, but then again those comments were made in the nineties so who knows what he thinks now. Plus I don't really see reproductive rights being that big of an issue to the UN...okay they probably are, but they won't really affect his skills as a leader. And his skills as a leader are really needed after the steaming pile of dogshit we can call the end of Ban Ki-moon's run as Secretary General. That shit in Central Africa? Sweet Jesus."

Scott saw T'Challa look down, as if remembering something in despair. News reports and headlines flashed in front of Scott's own eyes and he drew his gaze back to the TV screen.

"But yeah, I think António will do a good job," Tony nodded to himself, swiping so the image disappeared. "We're going to need a strong leader to help transition the world into the Accords while also transitioning power. He'll...he'll be a good fit. Speaking of the Accords!"

Wanda jumped slightly and even Sam jerked at the sudden outburst.

"I have news," Tony smiled wickedly. "Well, not like groundbreaking news or anything, but news. Now António was elected yesterday, but isn't actually going to be appointed until the first of January. So we've got a while until we see what he does as head honcho. But, he did give a speech and in said speech he mentioned the Sokovia Accords. Started by stating his support of them and their implementation, praised a few key players like Representative Cebesa from Wakanda, Representative Inguanez from Malta, Representative Wafy from Niger, and, of course, our rock in this sea of confusion, Representative Danon from Israel. Seriously, God bless that man. António also thanked yours truly for my work on the Accords and stuff. So that was cool.

"He also spoke on the eventual subcommittee for the Accords and sort of alluded to ambassador positions for enhanced individuals. Which, you know, would be more than awesome for us. Me attending these meetings now is something we weren't ever guaranteed, so having this is beyond what we ever hoped for. Having a position on the committee, not necessarily me but someone in our corner, would be something else entirely. I'm going to try to get a private meeting scheduled with António so I can share my thoughts with him, but he is very soon going to be a very busy man, so we'll cross our fingers over here. I'm still really hoping to be allowed to work with the committee on power analysis and stuff. 'Cause frankly, even though they are all experts in their fields, I wouldn't trust any other scientists the UN would bring in for that."

Scott found that he would not trust them either, and he found that he would trust Tony. (I wonder how many wishes a star can give.)

"A lot of Accords talk recently has really just been about implementing them," the genius continued. "I mean, they are in place, but there's parts of them that haven't really been carried out yet. Like the power analyses for example. Most of that stuff is going to be instated in 2017, when the subcommittee is formed. But it's good to start discussing that kind of thing now, so we can be better prepared. The situation of minors has now been solved...sort of. We've decided that only if it is discovered that an enhanced individual is a minor should action of some form be taken. And that will only happen if said individual is unmasked. So there's really not a whole lot we can do, everything has its limitations. At least I have some form of control over three minors.

"Greg has now met Kamala and Peter. Those three are becoming fast friends, which is great. I was kind of scared that they wouldn't get along, but they started cracking jokes as soon as they met. They even started coming up with possible superhero names for Greg and Kamala. I've made it clear that said names are never to be used for the foreseeable future, of course. I think they've settled on Gravity for Greg and Kamala's is still undecided. They're a bunch of stupid nerds, I swear. But they're fantastic kids. So smart and so energetic, all of the time. The past five months or so have had their ups and downs but those kids have made everything so much better. They've made all of this worth it."

Tony's proud grin was not reflected in the faces of those in Wakanda. Steve looked down in what seemed to be shame and for the thirty-second time that day Scott had to ask himself why he had agreed to this. (Oh yes, the past can hurt. But from the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it.)

"Peter and I have almost reached an agreement on where he wants to go with the Accords," Tony leaned back, sighing. "Luckily I don't have to worry about Greg and Kamala yet. We can just take our time hashing their plans out. Hopefully they'll never have to be used, but I doubt it. One day, when I'm older and grayer, those three will be saving the good people of this world. Spider-Man, Gravity, and Kamala's Unnamed Alter Ego. And they'll do a fantastic job too."

A happy smile that Scott could remember giving Cassie when she read him a Magic Treehouse book cover to cover (months and months pass, please give me something that lasts).

"Well I've got a long day ahead of me," the billionaire on the screen stretched. "Probably should end this now. Friday, you know what to do."

The TV faded to black once more and Scott bit his lip. He looked around at their motley crew and saw through their neutral facades. It was simple. Clint was angry still, Wanda was scared, Sam was regretful, Barnes was indifferent yet intrigued, the Captain was remorseful, and T'Challa was disappointed. Nothing had changed since they day they'd arrived, they'd just gotten a lot worse at hiding it.

"What do you think of Guterres, T'Challa?" Sam asked, twisting his neck to face the mentioned monarch.

"I think he will do well," T'Challa answered. "What he has said over these past two weeks or so has been promising."

Sam nodded and Scott bit his lip harder.

Scott never found time very hard to keep track of in prison. But here he didn't know when he was getting out. Keeping track only brought him further and further away from Cassie. To Stark, to Tony, it was all worth it. For those kids. But Scott only had one kid he was thinking about. And none of this was worth losing her.

Tony kept saying that he was a mechanic. Who built and fixed things. Scott was an engineer. Who designed and constructed things. Engineers didn't fix things, they let the mechanics do that job. Engineers designed and constructed and then left. Left the mechanics to do all the fixing and rebuilding. To clean up their messes, repair the flaws in their designs. Scott had played a part in the artful design of this whole mess, he'd carried out his role in its construction, and he'd left the mechanic to fix and to build while he ran with his tail between his legs. (Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. However, that parting need not last forever. Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short time...that is up to you.)

~X~

Bucky still wasn't entirely sure what to make of Stark. The more he saw the more confused he became. The images and videos he was shown were forming a bigger picture in his brain. And he was starting to think that it depicted a reality the others had failed to show him. A reality where a broken and beaten man had picked himself up, ribs bruised and eyes blackened, carried himself all the way to a ravaged home, built a better one from the ground up, and treated his wounds and stopped his bleeding alone, all the while smiling and laughing and putting on a show. A reality where a mechanic wore a crown and a Captain wore chains. And those chains were weighing all of them down.

Bucky still didn't know what the videos were leading up to, but there could only be one or two left. Once they ended, however they ended, Steve wasn't going to be okay in the slightest. And Bucky didn't remember how to comfort him.

The screen in front of them faded and Bucky tensed up for the twentieth time that day. Tony sat, once again, wearing a powder blue t-shirt with SUPER DAD in large, comic book style block letters with a yellow, jagged speech bubble behind them. The shirt caused Wanda to giggle and Wilson to let out a short, barking laugh. Bucky himself cracked a grin and saw Steve smiling sadly. (It's just a little street where old friends meet and treat you in the same old way.)

"October 21, 2016, 5:11 PM," Sam read, laughter still echoing in his words. Soon enough the image moved and Bucky listened to Stark's first words.

"I would first like to say that the kids got me this shirt," the billionaire said, faking annoyance. "I'm pretty sure Rhodey was in on it too. Those little shits. I wore it just to make them happy, no other reason. If I'm wearing it down in the shop then it's bound to get grease all over it, so jokes on them."

Bucky could hear the reverence hidden in Tony's voice under the layers of trademark sarcasm. He could also see that, despite the black marks on Stark's arms, there were no blemishes on the shirt.

"Those kids will be the death of me, I swear," Stark continued, dragging his hands down his face. "Each day they're together they just get louder and louder. We've been doing a lot of training and running simulations. Before we were really focusing on Greg and Kamala, trying to get a feel for their powers and helping them control them, but recently we've been adding Peter in on stuff. Getting them to work as a small team. They're doing great, as to be expected. We still don't really know how Kamala and Greg got their abilities. Kamala we've sort of figured out, a bit.

"After thoroughly analyzing the samples I took from the mist and from that cocoon thing and running some tests on Kamala I've discovered what the mist did to her. It turns out that she had, has, these special genes. Genes that can only really be...unlocked, I guess, when in contact with this weird mist. So this means that she got this gene from one of her parents, which means that she's not the only one with it. It's unlikely the gene is dominant in the rest of her immediate family, but it indicates that Kamala isn't the only one in the world with powers like hers. Maybe not identical, it's impossible to know. I've got Friday keeping an eye out for anymore of that mist, so we can make sure anyone else whose abilities get 'unlocked' has a helping hand."

"Wait, are they like...a subspecies?" Scott asked the room.

"I wouldn't say that exactly," T'Challa cocked his head, pondering. "I'd have to look more into this new phenomenon, but I would lean more towards something...not quite human."

Bucky didn't know how he felt about that, not entirely. But before he could consider it more the man on the screen carried on.

"I only figured this out yesterday, so I haven't had the chance to tell Kamala yet," Tony frowned ever so slightly. "I'm...I'm really not sure how she's gonna take it. She's still human, don't get me wrong! But she's also...not, in a way. At least I think not, I really don't know much about it yet. I don't think I can really learn much more anyway. Times like these I really wish Bruce was still around…."

The genius trailed off and Bucky looked around the room at the reactions at hearing the Hulk's name. He'd never personally met Dr. Banner, but he'd heard a little from some of the others. Mainly Steve and Barton. Both looked especially downcast now.

"Greg, on the other hand," Tony shot up, "Greg we know absolutely nothing about. Because he literally defies physics. The whole situation surrounding him getting his powers literally breaks the laws of nature and just science in general. I'm about to give up on figuring him out and pass the task on to Jane Foster. You hear that world?! Tony Stark is about to give up! You happy?!"

He shouted this last bit at the ceiling, only half joking. Bucky snorted nonetheless.

"But the kids are getting along, training together and stuff," Tony sighed. "And that's really all that matters. I guess. Moving straight on from superheroics to tech, Stark Industries has recently launched two new lines of products. The first was, of course, the new neuroprosthetic line that I've been working on for quite some time. We actually announced it a while back, I just never got around to mentioning it on these. The line is now available and shit as of four weeks ago. Reviews are pretty good so far, which is great.

"The second line was announced when the prosthetics were launched, and was introduced only a few weeks ago. They're basically a bunch of gadgets to help with various mental illnesses and disorders. We've made special fidget type things for people with ADD and ADHD, we have different sensory processing tools for people on the autism spectrum, we have other little appliances for tracking health and body related things throughout the day, specific health and body things for the mentally ill. And we also have a ton of different apps and other tablet and phone features for the same sort of thing."

Bucky watched the eyes of the inventor on the screen light up as he went on about gadgets and gizmos. About things that Bucky himself did not fully understand and probably could never hope to. He looked at Steve and saw a similar light reflected in his own eyes. Only this light cast a sorry shadow that Bucky feared would leave behind a mark. (Turn back the years of my childhood as you turn, old spinning wheel. Just show me a lane with a barefoot boy, as shadows softly steal.)

"The response to the initial product line announcement has been nothing but positive," Stark grinned. "Peter is bound to be excited.

"What else is going on? Nothing really new on the Accords front. Last update pretty much covered everything and nothing new has happened in the past week. Just the same old same old. There is some foundation stuff though!"

Scott jerked a little at this, the sudden intonation jarring him.

"So we have a lot of different countries involved by now," Tony sat up straight. "I think the total now is thirty-seven, and that's just those with official branches. Several other countries are contributing and participating without being fully integrated. There are a few current projects going on, the main one being our efforts in Sokovia. That one is going to be a very long and uphill battle, but it's one we shall fight.

"We also have a sort of job service here in New York. Despite the completement of the reconstruction that started back in 2012, New York City still has some recovering to do, specifically for the countless citizens made jobless or homeless after the incident. A lot of those types of issues haven't been addressed or even really covered by any major news organization. We're currently working with the WHiH Newsfront, really meaning Christine Everheart, to get more knowledge to the general public about the lasting effects of the Battle of New York. The Charlie Spencer Foundation has started working with the Office of Workforce Development to help with all of that, so hopefully we'll be seeing results soon."

Bucky noted that both ex-Avengers involved in the Battle of New York looked down slightly. He hadn't been there himself, but he'd seen the footage. Seen the damage. Heard the screams. Apparently those screams were still ringing in some ears.

"We've also got some stuff we're working on in DC," at these words Bucky straightened ever so slightly. "Washington was hit more recently when compared to the others, but it had more concentrated damage, which is somewhat easier to fix. We've got construction down there along with more job service organizational stuff too. Both good things. Practically everyone forgets about the socioeconomic problems that are caused by disasters like these. It's like once all the buildings are fixed and all the rubble's gone everything's completely fine. But that's utterly false. Homelessness and unemployment rates in New York skyrocketed after the Chitauri invaded, they decreased a bit during reconstruction due to the new job opportunities, but dipped down again right after. And they haven't changed much since.

"It's not even just that, the political system is also being affected. The only reason Ross was ever appointed was because he was one of the only people who had dealt with enhanced individuals before and I can't completely fault Ellis for his choice. It was a good move when only considering the public eye. Hell, even New Mexico is still experiencing ramifications for what happened eight years ago. After Thor and Loki basically demolished a small town there, the political leaders in New Mexico had to adapt. When their new governor was elected, not three years later, each campaign was centered around that incident and why each candidate was better suited to respond to possible future incidents. Ever single political action taken by their current governor, Susana Martinez, has been a direct result of that incident. The whole state is prime example of the effects that these types of disturbances can lead to. And everyone just seems to ignore that!"

The incredulous and disbelieving expression on Stark's face was met with bit lips and sharp intakes of breath. Bucky could see that each and every criminal in that room was part of that everyone that Stark was discussing. (They used to tell me I was building a dream and so I followed the mob. When there was earth to plow or guns to bear I was always there right on the job.)

"People are fucking ridiculous," Tony sighed, relaxing back into his chair. "What else…? Oh! Peter and I are going to finalize his business with the Accords today. I've got papers and documents ready to be signed and lots of hot chocolate waiting. That kid loves his hot chocolate, let me tell you. We still have to go over a few things and make a couple more decisions, but pretty soon everything will be ready to be presented to the UN Panel of Experts and we should be all set to go. Without anyone but me knowing who Peter actually is. Well, me, Rhodes, Vision, Pepper, Kamala, and Greg. But us six are the only ones! Technically seven if you count Friday, which I always do."

A small noise could be heard from the floor above, a tiny rummaging. Maybe something was broken or knocked over by the sound of it.

"And that must be the kiddo now!" Tony laughed. "For having enhanced reflexes and senses you'd think he'd be less clumsy. Alright, end the recording Friday."

Cut to black.

No one said anything for a while. Bucky accepted the few moments of silence greedily, a welcome solace after the afternoon of nonstop distraction. Soon it was broken, however.

"Is that...is that really what it's like?" Wanda asked timidly. "In all the places we've...interfered?"

No one answered her for a minute.

"Yes," Sam said quietly, "most everywhere, yeah."

Wanda locked eyes with the vet before diverting hers and shifting uncomfortably. Bucky glanced over at Steve. The fact that his friend's sad gaze was becoming familiar to him was troubling. And Bucky still didn't remember how to comfort him.

A few more beats of silence.

"Do you...do you guys think that was the last one?" Scott twisted in his chair to ask. Before anyone could answer the screen started to fade again. "Nevermind."

The blackness changed and faded until an image started to form. An image that was unfamiliar and foreign. New and unknown. Something entirely different that made everyone in the room stiffen and tense. Wanda's legs unfurled out from under her, Scott straightened up from his slouched position, Barton tightened his hand on the end of the couch's armrest, Sam sucked in his breath sharply, T'Challa unfolded his arms, and Steve dug his fingers into the couch beneath them.

(I'm mighty blue somehow. Won't someone hear my plea and take a chance with me? Because I'm nobody's baby now.)

A young face, a pair of brown eyes and a mop of brown hair, and a long sleeved t-shirt with the phrase 'Starfleet Academy' printed across the blue fabric graced the TV screen.

"The hell…?" Barton grunted. The others didn't have an answer, they just looked at each other with worried and shocked faces.

The teenager's face wasn't looking at the camera, his eyes gazing at the ground. His expression was almost blank, a ghost of distress outlining his young features. None of what they saw was particularly reassuring. Steve's fingers dug deeper into the couch.

Sam's voice was slow and wary, with a hint of fear. "October 28, 2016, 2:47 PM." (Tick tock, goes the clock, it's striking midnight dear)

"That was only yesterday," Lang murmured.

"Is that…?" Wanda trailed off.

"I believe it is," T'Challa's eyes never left the still screen.

Each person in the room was deathly silent until the boy on the screen finally moved. He shifted a bit, moving his head to face the people in Wakanda. No one moved, not even a finger.

(When the hills conceal the setting sun, stars begin a peeping one by one. Night covers all and, though fortune may forsake me, sweet dreams will ever take me home.)

"Uh...hi, I guess," the boy gave the camera an awkward wave, his distress only seeming to grow. "I...um...uh...to be honest I'm not entirely sure what this is. Friday just asked me to...so I...and now...God, I don't know."

He threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling like it had an answer that he was searching for. Barton started twirling an arrow nervously.

(Wonderful island where broken dreams come true. Make Believe Island beyond the blue.)

The young man looked back sharply, rubbing his eyes. "Um, my name is Peter. Peter Parker." A false smile. "That's always a good place to start."

Peter Parker…., Bucky mulled the name over. Suits him.

"Friday was pretty insistent that I come down here and record this," Peter went on, the self-consciousness leaving his voice as he spoke more. "It's uh...it's weird. Being down here now." Steve's fingers dug deeper and deeper. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing. Apparently Mr. Stark has been making these for a while, Friday's been helping. I think that she just doesn't want there to be a gap or anything. Or...or an unexplained end."

(Dream Valley at the rainbow's end. Dream Valley, land of let's pretend. A bit of heaven to wander in, where cares are ended and joys begin.)

Steve's fingertips disappeared from Bucky's eyes.

"It's been uh...it's been a week now," Peter's voice broke with his next sentence. "One week since the last time anyone saw Mr. Stark and…."

(Blue is the sparkle, gone is the tang; each old refrain keeps returning as I remain, with my memories and Blue Champagne.)

Steve's fingers ripped holes in the upholstery.

"And we still don't know anything," the boy dragged a finger above his upper lip. "We're no closer to finding him. We still don't even know who, or what, took him. Or if anything took him at all. I mean he could be dead for all we-!"

The kid buried his head in his hands and Bucky heard a strangled noise from Steve accompanied by the sound of an arrow snapping from Barton.

"I don't know what to do," Peter said through his fingers.

(Why tell them all the old things? They're buried under the snow. Whispering grass, don't tell the trees, 'cause the trees don't need to know.)

"Everyone's been going crazy these past seven days," Peter brought his head. His eyes were watery. "The Colonel has had to take over all of Mr. Stark's duties with the Accords, Ms. Potts has been extra busy at Stark Industries, Vision's barely around anymore, he spends everyday searching for Mr. Stark, following leads and working with Friday. And I've just...I've been doing jack. I'm not even supposed to know he's missing, I only do because I was the one who found the lab...empty. We're keeping everything from Greg and Kamala. The public doesn't know anything, but pretty soon people are going to start asking questions…."

Bucky saw T'Challa looking at the screen with searching eyes, eyes filled with dread and painful confusion.

"And I really hate keeping Greg and Kamala in the dark like this," Peter sniffled quietly. "They deserve to know what's going on. They keep texting me, we have a group chat, and asking why we've been putting training off. I can only keep lying to them for so long. It'd be easier if Rhodey or Vision would let me help, but they want me to sit this one out. I know they're just worried about me, but doing nothing is killing me."

(We three, we're all alone, living in a memory. My echo, my shadow and me. We three we're not a crowd, we're not even company. My echo, my shadow and me.)

"I can't sleep, I'm not eating as much," Peter's hands shook in front of him. "I keep missing assignments, and I'm pretty sure I just failed my first AP Calc test ever. Aunt May is getting really worried and she's started asking why Mr. Stark hasn't come over for dinner lately. I hate lying to her. I'm already keeping one part of my life secret from her, and now this, too."

Too young, far too young.

"And I'm...I'm really worried about Mr. Stark," his voice cracked again and his eyes continued to water.

(Stars in the sky were dancing, one night perfect for romancing, the night a sinner kissed an angel.)

"I don't know what's going to happen to him. Or where he is. Or if he's even alive. I've-I've had three different father figures in my life, two of them are dead now and the third has been missing for a week."

(I must go back to the army routine, and every doughboy knows what that will mean. A soldier boy without a heart has two strikes on him from the start.)

"I know all the facts and statistics. Ninety to ninety-five percent of all missing persons aren't found each year. The odds of finding any of them decrease significantly after the first twenty-four hours. Mr. Stark has been missing for approximately one hundred and sixty-three hours, judging by when Friday's systems were temporarily shut down. So his chances of being found or even just surviving are in the decimal percentages."

The kid rambled faster and faster, rivalling Scott's speed when the man was nervous. His hands continued to shake and he began to wring them anxiously.

"If he isn't found within the next week or so we're going to have to tell the authorities and the UN, too, probably. When someone like Mr. Stark goes missing it's kind of a big deal. And when everyone else finds out I doubt whoever or whatever has him is going to be happy. Maybe with added bodies we can find him, but if an android made from an AI and a magical space rock can't then I doubt anyone else can. When everyone else knows then Greg and Kamala will too, I have no idea how they'll react. I want them to now, but...but all three of us owe Mr. Stark so much and I just know that they won't take it well, especially Kamala."

(Love here in the starlit hour, night whispering lullabies. Let me dream forever underneath the silvery skies.)

There were tears running down Peter's face now but he didn't seem to notice them.

"I'm worried and I'm scared and I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen. None of us do, we're all just flying by the seats of our pants. We don't have any leads, not any real ones, and there was zero trace left behind to go off of. The last time Mr. Stark went missing the whole world thought he died and the time before that he was gone for three months. What if that happens again? What if we have to wait three months, looking and searching, before we find him? What if we never do find him? I don't even want to think about what Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes are going through right now. This is the third time for them, it must be so much worse for them."

(Beyond the blue horizon waits a beautiful day. Goodbye to things that bore me, joy is waiting for me.)

"I don't know what's going to happen, I don't know what we're going to do, I just-I don't," Peter broke off here and put his head into his shaking hands again.

Bucky sat stiff against the back of the couch, Steve sat next to him with his fingers dug deep into the upholstery, Sam was holed up in the corner, Scott leaned forward with his feet flat against the floor, Barton held the remnants of a broken arrow in his fingers and pulled at the splinters, Wanda had her hands covering her mouth, and T'Challa's teeth were snapped together so strongly Bucky feared they'd break.

(But my tumbled down shack by an old railroad track, like a millionaire's mansion is calling me back. I'd give up a palace if I were a king. It's more than a palace, it's my everything.)

Peter lifted his head weakly and wiped his tears away. "I just don't know. I don't. I'm sixteen, I'm supposed to be worrying about homework and girls and acne, not...not this sort of thing. I guess I can't really blame anyone else for that except myself, now can I?"

A small, false smile that didn't show teeth and didn't reach his ears.

(Praise the Lord and swing into position, can't afford to be a politician. Praise the Lord, we're all between perdition and the deep blue sea.)

"We better find Mr. Stark soon. If we...if we don't I don't know what we'll do," Peter shook his head ever so slightly while his hands moved nonstop. His next words were all but whispered. "But I really don't know if we can."

(the light was fading, save it)

Peter sniffled once more and screwed his eyes shut before opening them. He shook himself and sat up straighter, leaning in slightly. "I, um, I think I'm done here. There's really...really not much else to say. Not much else to do. Except wait. Waiting is its own form of torture…."

(Skylark, have you seen a valley green with spring? Where my heart can go a-journeying, over the shadows and the rain to a blossom-covered lane?)

"I'm not really sure how to end this thing," Peter looked around him. "Friday? Could you please-?"

The boy was cut off by the recording ending. The screen faded to its usual black. Before anyone in the room could say anything in response to what they'd just seen the screen changed to white.

Friday's voice was sharp and cutting. "A quinjet utilizing retroreflector technology will be arriving on the roof of this building in approximately twenty minutes. A flight plan is already programmed to travel back to the Avenger's Compound in New York. All it will require is a pilot to begin the flight. Protocol SOTERIA has been initiated."

The white faded and was replaced with a finite black screen.

Silence.

Bucky didn't know what to make of Stark. He'd never met him. Never spoken to him. Never did anything except try to kill him. But he'd seen him. Heard him. Watched him live the span of five months in only a few hours. He'd seen him smile, seen him laugh, seen him scream, seen him cry. He'd seen him happy, sad, angry, and in pain. Bucky had heard a whole medley of Stark's life in that day. And Peter had sung the final note.

No, Bucky didn't know what to make of Stark. But he was starting to get an idea.

So when Steve slid his fingers out of the couch and stood up, his back straight and his lips pressed together in a fine line, and said in a low but commanding voice, "Suit up." Bucky was the first to stand.

(What's the good word, Mr. Bluebird? Did you bring a song to cheer me up today? Give me your word, Mr. Bluebird, did you come to tell me everything's okay? I've been blue, because there was no letter; seeing you has made me feel much better. What's the good word, Mr. Bluebird, before you fly away?)

~X~

Okay so before I get into anything most of the fully italicized stuff in the parentheses is not mine, half normal and half italicized is though. Stuff in Bucky's POV are song lyrics from the early 1900's, all before 1946. Wanda's are all lines from poems, I dunno I just think she'd been into poetry. Clint's are all from children's books because you know that man read to his kids every night he could. T'Challa's are all African proverbs, a lot are Xhosa ones but I think some are from other countries (by the way, Wakandan names are Xhosan or just African and Sokovian are Serbian). And Scott's are from children's cartoons and movies that he probably watched with Cassie, although one is from Zelda because why not?

So I just want to explain a few things/rant.

First off, hi, I'm Charlotte, the lovechild of Speech and Debate and AP Gov. I apologize for the amount of political shit in this. (I just really love Robert Gates, okay?) The part on the UN Panel was my favorite to write just 'cause I love research and politics. All of those people are real by the way (except the ones from Wakanda and Sokovia, duh. Although they are based off of real life politicians), and so are all of the UN Representatives (again, except Wakanda and Sokovia). I attempted to have everything as accurate as I could have, but Google and Wikipedia only provide so much, you know? So if there are any Israeli people reading this going "Charlotte, Danny Danon is literally Satan, everyone hates him here!" then I'm sorry, okay? His Wikipedia page and credentials presented to the UN made him sound very impressive! (Also apologies to any countries I might have offended, please don't kill me) The EDC makes sense to me as do the Personal Contracts, but I know all of this will be made obsolete once Infinity War comes out. Or even Spider-Man: Homecoming. Which is why I'm posting this the day that movie premiers. Fun.

Just want to talk about characters for a bit. I don't hate Steve, for the record, I'm just mad at him currently. I could have been so much harsher on him and Clint and Wanda in this fic but I wasn't. My main problem with Team Cap and people who support them (I love you guys don't kill me, my best friend is on Team Cap. I bought a Team Stark shirt just to piss him off though, so) is that they seem to believe that the argument here is over the Accords, over whether or not you support them. When, in reality, it's over whether or not you should sign them. Too very different things. A lot of fics do touch on how Sam is his own person and not just Steve's lap dog, but at least to me they don't fully explore that. And I've read zero fics that acknowledge the fact that Bucky Barnes has never read the Accords and is literally only on Steve's side for survival (no shame here Bucky, I would have done exactly what you did). Like no one has explored Bucky's thoughts on the Accords. I know I only did a little bit, but if there is a sequel to this I will. Also, how I view Bucky and Steve's friendship in this fic can be represented by this one line "Bucky's hand might have left his, but he never left his side." In case you were wondering. One more thing character wise, the whole thing with Greg and his powers is just me making fun of how the comics never explain that shit. Like 10/10 exposition. I just find it hilarious.

And hey, guys, do you want a sequel? Is anyone even reading this? I dunno. If you are reading this and do want a sequel please tell me! Also, tell me if you liked this at all. And what parts you like. Any specific lines? Do you have any questions? Is this end note too long? Probably. Anyway, thanks for stopping by and reading this steaming pile of garbage. It's the longest thing I've ever written and it took fucking forever (like maybe two-three months...so not that long).