thirty
*•.*
a few days later
"IT WAS A MISTAKE," Geneva murmured, closing the door to Steve's room, resting her back against it.
"It was my mistake," he said, putting his head in his hands, the bed sinking where he sat. "It was so obviously a bomb vest that there was no way it should've slipped my notice."
Geneva blinked. "Don't do that."
"Don't do that." He repeated her words, but they almost sounded like a question when she heard them spill from his lips. "People died. I think I'm within my rights to blame myself because we should've been more careful. You were right, we should've clocked him before he even got in the city."
Geneva rubbed at her forehead. "I don't care about being right about things I can't change. I'm just tired of witnessing the same mistakes over and over again. I'm tired of us making the same mistakes." Especially when these mistakes affected people outside herself. She wasn't sure she could do it anymore.
"What do you want me to say, Geneva?"
What did she want him to say?
"You can say whatever you want, Steve, just not that it's your mistake," she said with exasperation. "I need you to stop with the lone soldier act—trying to shoulder all the blame when things go wrong."
He breathed deeply. "I hardly know any other way." Steve looked at her head on. "The bomb vest—he had it for me," he muttered. His eyes were red, but she could see no tears against his cheeks. "If I had just taken a second—"
"Don't do that."
They studied each other for a second.
"People died," he said again, rage and sadness still swimming in his blue orbs. "And they're gonna want justice."
"Well, they deserve justice," she murmured.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second and ran his hand through his short hair. "At least we can agree on that."
After seeing the damage they caused and visiting the various memorials of incidents they were involved in, including the Sokovian memorial, Geneva's faith in the job lessened and lessened. In that moment, it was nearly nonexistent.
The bout of silence lasted a few more minutes, and she moved to take a seat next to him, her shoulder touching his from where she sat. Her will to argue had deflated. "On the jet, you said Rumlow mentioned Bucky?"
"He remembered me," Steve said quietly. "And I knew he did but hearing it—" He stopped abruptly, taking a shaky breath. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "They tortured him because of it."
"I'm sorry."
He leaned on her then, throwing his head back, eyes locked on the ceiling. "You shouldn't be."
"And yet..." she trailed off. She couldn't help but to be sorry.
He shook his head, leaning away. "I need—I need to think."
She understood that as him needing time alone. Geneva stared at the neat stack of vinyls on his dresser and was certain she knew which was on top. She didn't check, though, leaving quickly after he kissed her cheek.
She welcomed the silence as she walked through the compound. By the time she got to her room—the room she hardly ever slept in—she knew that by the end of the year, she was leaving this job, with or without Steve Rogers.
Preferably with.
°°°
one month later
"They're gonna come for her," Olten said, staring at the new coverage of the tragedy in Lagos.
Geneva sighed turning away from the living room TV. There was a strong possibility that there would be a call for Wanda's arrest, but she doubted that would be the case. "They're not—"
"Are you listening to the television, Geneva?" She could hear him throw his arms out, exasperated. "They're putting all the blame on her. As if Crossbones wasn't the literal fuc—"
"Olten, please," she said quietly, stopping him. "Turn the TV off and put out the fire." She didn't have to see him to know that his hands were currently encased in a fire of his own making. She rubbed at her face as the room went silent.
"I can't protect her from this," he murmured, closer to her now.
Geneva stared at the rim of her coffee mug. "Are you sure that she needs protection?" He didn't answer, and she didn't need him to. "Talk to her."
If Vision wasn't already.
Gen gave him a soft look before exiting the room, her coffee in hand. She entered Steve's office, sitting atop his desk, where he was seated in the chair. The room was bright with its wide windows but something about it felt somber. She was faced away from his screen, but that didn't stop her from hearing the news coverage that he too was watching.
"Tony's coming to the compound today," he said, staring at the screen.
Geneva didn't look away from her mug. "Oh?"
"He sent me a cryptic message and that was all." It was a short answer but enough.
She could hear the King of Wakanda begin to speak. His words were right, not easily accepted, but right. Yet, Geneva wasn't sure she would use the word "indifferent" to describe herself and her teammates, not when she saw the devastation in Wanda's eyes and the defeat in Steve's.
She often wished that they'd never gone.
If they hadn't been in Lagos though, Rumlow would've gotten that biological weapon and a million other people would be in danger, but the people who'd died a month ago—their safety mattered too.
Geneva sighed, aware that saving and protecting everyone was quite impossible, but still hoping that next time would be an exception. Still hoping that maybe there wouldn't have to be a next time.
She listened to the news, and by the sound of it, Wanda's potential arrest wasn't the only one they had to worry about.
Geneva glanced down at Steve, and handed him her mug. Seemingly without thinking, he took it and sipped it twice. He made a face as he handed it back to her. "Every time I taste your coffee, it's always worse than your last cup." She pursed her lips at him and he tilted his head, brows furrowed. "How are you?"
She didn't answer at first but decided on what felt the most honest. "Same as I was yesterday. You?"
He muted the screen, readying to speak, but before he could, he heard the sound of the news playing in another room.
Wanda.
Geneva stood but so did Steve. "I've got it," he said, reaching out and squeezing her hand. She nodded then he left her alone in his office. She took a seat in his desk chair and avoided sifting through the papers there, though she did catch a glimpse of the name Louis Adley, hidden amongst a series of other words.
Geneva set her mug down, confused. When she pulled the paper out, her eye immediately latched onto the date. It was received only a week ago. As she read over it, she realized that Steve had been keeping tabs on Louis's death. They hadn't pinned it on her, but her name had been throw around various times.
The sight of it hadn't anger her, but it worried her that Steve had added this to the thousand other things he had to worry about. Geneva sighed and sat back in the chair.
"You looked stressed," Natasha's voice came from beside her. Geneva glanced at the woman who's steps had been silent and who would've terrified anyone else with the lack of announcement, but it was her. Natasha's red hair was feathered away from her face and skimming her shoulder blades. Like Geneva, the woman was dressed in various dark colors for the day. "Damn. I really thought I'd get at least a flinch out of you this time."
Geneva rolled her eyes, pushing the paper back to its original placement, which didn't go unnoticed by Nat. "You've known me for how many years?"
"Enough to know that you aren't gonna like what I have to say." Geneva watched expectantly. "We've got a meeting with the Secretary of State."
"Shit," she exclaimed. "Where are my keys?" She stood quickly, briefly pretending to look for them.
Natasha let out a sound of protest. "He already knows that you're here."
Again, Geneva sighed. "That was mostly a joke. Is that why you came in here? To tell me that he's in the compound?"
"Yes. Now let's go get this over with."
And so they went. It took them all a few moments to be seated, and the Secretary wasted no time getting started.
He ended up calling them dangerous and thanking them for their work all in the span of a minute. A talent, she must say.
Geneva's eyes remained on the formally dressed man. His graying hair and worn expression helped to enforce his air authority.
Geneva was uneasy, but her own unease was nothing compared to Steve's. She could feel it radiating off of him from where he sat beside her at the long hardwood table. Natasha was on her right and Rhodey was on hers.
Vision, Wanda, and Olten sat across from them, their expressions grave.
Tony was seated apart from everyone, his chair fitted to the corner of the room. They were all silent as the Secretary began to roll clips of their most public incidents.
"New York," the man said, pointing toward the wide screen. Geneva nearly flinched away from the scene. She could still feel her blood running freely from her wounds and see the teeth of those aliens attempting to rip at her throat. It hadn't affected her like it used to, but the memories were still there and still unwelcome.
The screams of the citizens of New York were hard to hear and she blinked quickly, not looking away from the screen.
"Washington DC."
The sight of the crashing helicarriers and large waves engulfing citizens is what caused her to look away. Washington was too much for her to relive for too many reasons.
"Sokovia." More screams. "Lagos."
"Okay. That's enough," Steve said sternly.
Geneva saw Secretary Ross nod. "For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution."
And so the Sokovia Accords were pushed onto the table. The thick document looked increasingly intimidating as it was passed around the group. The document had been approved by 117 countries. Under it, the Avengers could no longer be a private organization.
Geneva wasn't sure what to think or to say, but Steve was prepared. "The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that."
"Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" Ross asked, tilting his head as if he'd proven an undeniable point. He hadn't.
"If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes... you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground."
Thor answered to no one, least of all them, and if Bruce was a current danger, they'd know it.
Everyone would.
"So, there are contingencies," Rhodey asked.
The Secretary explained that in a few days time, the UN would be meeting in Vienna to ratify the Accords.
Olten looked at her, and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. She could offer no reassurance.
"Talk it over," Secretary Ross insisted.
Natasha spoke up then. "And if we come to a decision you don't like?"
"Then you retire."
Geneva watched Steve as he looked through the Accords. His expression was grave, face serious.
He wasn't going to sign. She knew that for certain.
She leaned heavily on the sofa she was sharing with Natasha and shut her eyes.
Vision was giving them an equation, and for an advanced android, his words were failing to add up. "In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."
"Are you saying it's our fault?" She heard Steve ask.
Vision replied quickly. "I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe. Oversight—oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."
"Boom," Rhodey finished.
"Don't say 'boom'," Geneva condemned, opening her eyes and sending the man a look. He stood against the wall beside Sam, and he'd just been arguing for the accords so she could see why Vision's words had seemed like a perfect explanation. "Because if we really pick apart that statement, it does not make sense. If I have to get into why, I will, but it's not all that hard to grasp." She looked to Vision. "You are saying it's our fault, and that's not okay."
"It was just a thought," Vision muttered.
"I know," she said with a small, humorless smile. "And I hope you can reevaluate it."
Eyebrows raised and eyes widened at her words.
"You heard the woman," Sam said smugly, and Geneva hoped they had.
A pause.
Natasha's questioning voice came. "Tony. You're being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal."
"It's because he's already made up his mind," Steve answered for him.
Tony, who was lounging in his chair, face covered stood. "Boy, you know me so well." The man winced as he sauntered into the kitchen area. "Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort." He paused as he stared at the sink, mug in hand. "Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?"
He moved, putting his phone in a basket and tapping
it. The phone projected a picture of a boy in his late teens most likely. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way." Stark went on to describe the boy's bright future, which had been permanently ruined when he died in Sokovia. Their fault. "There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys."
Geneva remained quiet as the conversation continued despite having much to say, and she hadn't even really thought about whether or not signing the Accords was the right thing to do yet.
"Maybe Tony's right," Natasha let out, surprising everyone, and this time she did get Geneva to flinch. It wasn't her decision that had caused the reaction, but it was her quickness into it. "If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off—"
"Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?" Sam asked in disbelief.
The memory flashed in Gen's mind. They still hadn't really been forgiven for that.
"I'm just— I'm reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back," Nat replied, looking to Geneva almost apologetically. This confused her.
Genuinely, Geneva asked, "Do you believe that's an option right now? Winning back their trust?"
"Maybe." Natasha shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to try."
Yet, if the UN had created this document and were ready to ratify it with or without them, didn't that mean that they were already beyond trust?
"I can see you thinking," Olten spoke to her. "What is it?"
She shook her head, refusing to answer. It hardly mattered what she thought anymore.
"Focus up," Tony said, looking to Natasha. "I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?"
Natasha cringed. "Oh, I want to take it back now."
Tony refused this. "You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed—I win."
Geneva's eyes floated to Steve's, but his eyes were glued to his phone. Something was wrong. "I have to go." He stood abruptly, lightly tossing the thick Accords onto the coffee table. Gen stared after him, a sinking feeling washing over her, the Accords forgotten.
She felt the eyes of her friends turn to her, expecting her to go after him, but she waited another moment before following the path he'd just taken.
Steve stood at the bottom of the staircase, his head bowed in what Geneva sensed was sadness. She knew he'd heard her enter, but he didn't look up. She took the steps slowly, resting a hand on his arm, the cotton of his black shirt soft.
"Did she—" She didn't finish the question, she couldn't, but she didn't have to. He'd understood her.
He nodded, looking up then. His eyes were red, and this time she could see the faint lines of tears. She swallowed hard.
Peggy was gone.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His forehead fell onto her shoulder as he sank into her embrace. She couldn't hear him crying, but she could feel the light shaking of his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
And they stood like that for a long time.
this is long, sorry lol. thanks for reading!
-syd