A month passed since Lagos. A month filled with self pity, doubt within the Avengers' power, and our fate in question. Some called for our 'overdue' arrest. There were some who defended our actions. Needless to say, no one knew exactly what to do.
Steve and I spoke about it every night since it had happened. That particular day, I sat on his lap in a computer seat, watching the King of Wakanda respond to what occurred to his people.
Avengers Indictment?
World Reaction to Violence
"...eleven Wakandans were killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigera last month. The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos when the attack occurred..."
King T'Chaka of Wakanda
Demands Accountability from Avengers
"Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil. Not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all..."
Steve took the remote and shut the television off. His hands clasped under my stomach. I laid my own hands on his own, laying back against his chest. "It's like they think we walk away from this unaffected," I mumbled.
"There are some who do believe that," said Steve.
"What do they expect us to do?" I asked. "Responsibility for our actions is something we do take, but I don't know how we're supposed to fix what we did."
"Tony's supposed to be coming by today with a way to own up for it," he said.
"What? When?"
"Vision said he would let me know when Tony got here. I don't know... He sounded strange on the phone, Clara..."
"Strange as in...?" I asked.
"Don't know, honestly," said Steve. He patted my hips. I stood. He took my hand. I didn't have to ask where we were heading. My question was answered in the way his face changed. He lost his own emotions, put on a brave face, for her. She needed more assuring than both of us combined.
It didn't help that she was intently watching the news when we arrived in her room. Steve looked for the remote quietly. Wanda hadn't noticed. She sat curled up in her bed, hand holding her head up. Her fingers danced across her cheeks, wiping the few frustrated tears. Steve turned the television off.
Seconds hadn't passed before she whispered, "It's my fault."
"That's not true," said Steve.
"Turn the T.V. back on. They're being very specific," said Wanda, scoffing a little.
I took a seat on the bed. I laid back. "I should have covered you better. The only place I didn't have a portal ready for you..."
"I should have caught that bomb long before you had to deal with it," added Steve. He sat on the opposite side of her. "Rumlow said, 'Bucky,' and all of a sudden, I was a sixteen year old kid again in Brooklyn... People died. It's on me."
Wanda shook her head. "It's on all of us," she negotiated.
"This job, you try to save as many people as you can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if you can't live with that, maybe next time, nobody gets saved," said Steve. He shrugged his shoulders, allowing the scenario to live within Wanda's mind for a moment.
She didn't get the chance to answer. Through the wall phased Vision, startling Steve and I.
"Vis," sighed Wanda. "We talked about this."
"Yes, but the door was opened, so I assumed..." he started. Wanda's blank face caused him to stop. "Captain Rogers wished to know when Mr. Stark arrived."
"Thank you," said Steve.
"I'll... Use the door," said Vision. He started to leave, then turned. "Oh, and apparently, he's brought a guest."
"Do you know who it is?" I asked.
"The Secretary of State."
All at once, my heart dropped. "Oh, no."
"Best behavior," said Steve to Wanda and I. Bless his heart, he tried to lighten our shared panic. It hadn't worked.
I opened a portal into the conference room. Steve stepped through first. I followed. Wanda ducked through and took a seat at once. Vision made his way over to comfort her.
"Captain," said the Secretary of State, General Ross. He shook his hand. "It's an honor."
"The honor's mine," said Steve. He didn't phase the General or myself with his words. He took a seat at the table beside Natasha.
"General Ross, hi, I'm--" I introduced. I held out my hand. He gave it a limp shake.
"Sapphire, isn't it?" he asked.
"I guess, yeah. A lot of us just go with our regular names, since our identities are already out there," I said.
Ross nodded. "What is it you do here?"
"I manage the place, cover research, and, uh, keep everything in check."
"And how well of a job do you believe you've been doing?" he asked.
"Well, I..." I started. My brow furrowed, my lips fell into a pout. I had a feeling Ross wasn't interested in my work besides my duty as an Avenger. I took a seat at the head of the table.
"Lose the look," muttered Sam as he took a seat on my other side.
"But did you--" I tried.
"Clara," whispered Steve harshly.
I clenched my jaw until I was able to relax my face. I watched General Ross pace the front of the room with narrowed eyes. His first impression ruined any chance of cooperation with what he was going to present.
"Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back swing. It turned out it was the best round of my life. After thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something forty years in the army never taught me: perspective," began General Ross. He stood at the table, looking at each of us individually. "The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the term vigilante."
"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" asked Natasha.
"How about dangerous?" he challenged. "What would you call a group of U.S. based, enhanced individuals, who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they chose, and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind."
I opened my mouth. Under the table, Steve nudged my foot. He didn't look my way, but the way he sat straighter told me everything. Ross chose his words carefully, in a way where he wanted to target our emotions. A reaction was something he wanted. Steve didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
On the projector, a Chitauri space creature crashed into a building. The footage showed the Hulk jumping into a building. His crash landing sent massive chunks of debris falling on the civilians. One hit the camera man. The feed ended abruptly. We knew exactly why. "New York," said General Ross, although there was no need to clarify. We all knew. We all remembered.
"Washington, D.C.," he said.
Footage of a helicarrier crashing into the Potomac was shown. The wave it created came into the shore fast, too fast for civilians to outrun it. One second, people were shown. By the time the wave retreated back to the Potomac, those people were lost to us. Sam looked down.
"Sokovia."
Again, we watched the chunk of land fly into the air. We watched buildings on the outer edge crumble. We heard people screaming in utter terror.
"Lagos," said Ross, and the first second of footage was the trail of dead bodies being lifted out of the building. Wanda lowered her head instantly.
At the same time, Steve and I sat straighter. "Okay," I said. He continued, his eyes on Wanda. "That's enough."
"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," explained Ross.
He dropped a thick book in front of Wanda. She pushed it to Rhodey.
"The Sokovia Accords. Approved by one hundred and seventeen countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, you will operate under the supervision United Nations panel, only if and when that panel deems it necessary."
Steve tapped his fingers along the neatly printed letters. "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? If I misplaced a couple of thirty ton mega-nukes, you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise, reassurance, that's how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground," assured General Ross.
"There are contingencies?" asked Rhodey.
"Three days from now, the U.N. meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords," said General Ross. He started to back out of the room, waving his hands. "Talk it over."
"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" asked Natasha.
"Then you retire."
Tony, who I hadn't noticed joined us, showed General Ross out.
We moved into the common room. It was silent, mostly everyone mulling over their thoughts.
I flipped through the Accords, skimming the words.
"One hundred and seventeen..." I mumbled, shaking my head. I cleared my throat. "Should we take a vote?"
"We shouldn't be discussing this. We should have signed it by now," said Rhodey honestly.
"Whoa, there, Rhodes. Some of us don't like the idea of following orders. I don't exactly know how to feel about being on Ross' leash. Something about him rubs me the wrong way," said Sam.
"Secretary Ross has a congressional medal of honor, which is one more than you have," argued Rhodey.
"Let's say we agree to this thing," said Sam. "How long do we have until they low-jack us like a bunch of common criminals?"
"A hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this, Sam. A hundred and seventeen. And you're just like, 'oh, no, it's cool,'?" asked Rhodey.
"That's a wild number of people that need to negotiate over whether or not to send us every time a threat breaks out. Decisions won't get made with an ensemble of countries, not fast enough for us to save more people than if we didn't go at all," I said.
"It wouldn't be all one hundred and seventeen," said Rhodey.
"My point is, for an example, two people in a room together can get far more discussed than a hundred and seventeen."
"What are you trying to say?" asked Rhodey.
"I'm saying there needs to be a different approach to this issue. Trust, for me, doesn't exist within a government anymore. I especially don't trust them with us," I said. It was no secret I meant Wanda and I specifically; people with powers that couldn't be taken away.
"I have an equation," said Vision.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, this'll clear it up."
"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period, the number of potentially world ending events as risen at a commercial rate."
"Are you saying it's our fault?" asked Steve.
"I'm saying there may be a causality," corrected Vision. "Our very strength invites challenge, challenge insights conflict, and conflict breaths catastrophe. Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."
Natasha broke the second thoughtful silence. "Tony, you're being uncharacteristically non hyper-verbal."
"It's because he's made up his mind," muttered Steve.
"Boy, you know me so well," snapped Tony. He stood and walked into the kitchen. "Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap, just pain. Discomfort. Who's putting coffee grinds in the disposal? Am I running a Bed and Breakfast for a biker gang?"
"Tony," said Steve pointedly.
From his pocket, he pulled out his phone and projected a picture of a dark skinned boy into the air. He couldn't have been older than twenty.
"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. Computer engineering degree, three-point-six GPA, had a full level plan for the fall. But, first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. See the world, be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas, or Fort Lauderdale, which is where I would have gone, no, he didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, he decided to spend his summer building sustainable houses for the poor, guess where? Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose, but we wouldn't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There's no debate here. We need to be put in check. If we can't accept limitations, boundaries, we're no better than the bad guys."
"Tony, if someone dies on our watch, you don't give up," sighed Steve.
"Who said we're giving up?"
"We are for not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame."
Rhodey laughed. "I'm sorry, Steve, but that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations, it's not the World Security Council, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D., it's not HYDRA--"
"No, but it's run by people with agendas and agendas change," interrupted Steve.
"That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down," explained Tony.
"Yes, but Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there's somewhere we need to be and they won't let us? We may not be perfect but the safest hands are still our own."
Tony's jaw clenched. His grip on his glass tightened significantly. "If we don't do this now, it's going to be done to us later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty."
"You're saying they'll come for me," guessed Wanda.
"We would protect you," said Vision.
"Maybe Tony's right," chimed Natasha, surprising everyone in the room. She raised an eyebrow, daring to continue. "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?" asked Sam.
"I'm just reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back," she explained.
"Did I mishear you, or did you agree with me?" asked Tony playfully.
"I wish I could take it back."
"No, no, no, you can't retract it. Thank you."
"At the end of the day, we're all working towards the same goal: saving humanity from threats. What differs is the approach," I said.
"And I choose the one with less casualties," said Tony.
"You're right to, Tony, but you can't guarantee no one will die if we sign this. Restrained or not, there are always going to be deaths that are on us. The consequences we feel are through the grief of those who died while we were trying to save the world. I carry those deaths with me every day. But in the end game, we fight for those we failed to protect, we fight for the people who grief them. We avenge them," I said. I set the Accords on the coffee table, shoving it away from my hands. "The approach the U.N. has made... This isn't one I can agree to."
Steve stood. He cradled his phone into his chest. "I have to go," he said blankly, then walked from the living room. It wasn't a fast walk, nor a slow one, it was as though he was struggling to just lift his foot from the ground.
"What's his deal?" asked Tony unsympathetically.
Sam, Natasha, and I shared glances, silently figuring out who was designated to aid him. They declared it was my job. I took the staircase to find Steve. Without meaning to, I ran into him.
He looked up, seeing who was approaching, before he spun and put his back towards me. "Can I just have a second alone?"
"Do you really want a second alone?" I asked softly.
Steve couldn't use his voice without letting it crack again. Blinking profusely to hold back his tears, he looked at me and shook his head. I wiggled into his arms and let him cry into my hair. His world had shattered. He didn't have to tell me what happened for me to understand. One person could make his strong build fall, his hard emotional barrier break, and that person, Peggy Carter, had to have been pronounced deceased for that to happen.