2016
Steve was guided into the special courtroom in London by two burly security guards. The United Nations representatives watched him with disdain as he walked across the platform to his assigned seat. Most of the Avengers were in attendance, Tony and his side were seated in the back in plush chairs (except for T'Challa, who had his own seat among the representatives). Steve's side stood in the back of the room, arms in handcuffs and their legs attached to one another in thick, heavy chains. They were treated like criminals because of him.
He took his seat, face expressionless and cold. Someone started speaking, welcoming and thanking the representatives and the addressing the reporters. They were being broadcasted internationally: the trial of Captain America.
The announcer turned to Steve and in their stale, booming voice, asked, "Captain Steven Grant Rogers, are you aware of the charges against you?"
"Yes sir," he stated clearly.
"Very well. However, to remind everyone in attendance, the charges against Captain America and his team are as followed: several accounts of international terrorism, two charges of crime against humanity, and a tremendous amount of charges for destruction of government property. Each is explained in detail within the packets you all have received on your desks...."
Steve stared forward, not really listening to the words the announcer spoke. He didn't really hear them, only the rumble of his voice as he explained how things would go. An empty hollowness ached in his chest, one he was familiar with but had not paid attention to in the past few weeks. But here he was, stuck in makeshift courtroom where countries themselves were about to throw polite insults his way.
There wasn't much he could do, just yet. He knew he couldn't run forever, knew he needed something to ease the mind of the public. They needed to know the whole story and Steve was going to give them that, just like he tried with Tony. It wasn't his fault if no one listened, at least they had the opportunity to hear his side.
The first hour went by with each country pressings charges against him announcing their reasonings, specifications, and what they believe should be done with him. Nearly everyone had something to say about him, some even were asked to sit down due to the vulgar tone they started to adopt in their words.
They go around and around, accusing him of various things and leading a so-called "gang" in criminal activity. It went on until T'Challa stood up, all regal and challenging. "Enough!" He glided down the stairs towards Steve. "This man," he motioned to Steve, "does not deserve this level of criminalization. You are not even letting him defend himself! How is that a fair trial, if you do not know both sides?"
Steve watched the room as hush murmurs fell over the crowd. No one would meet his eyes except for Sam and T'Challa.
"Captain," T'Challa continued.
"Yes, your majesty?" Steve answered softly, in a way that showed his respect for the man standing before him rather than a weakness.
"Please tell us why you committed such crimes. Explain to us why you believe what you did was right."
Steve nodded and stood up, adjusting his formal Cap suit. "When the Sokovian Accords were first introduced to my colleagues and I, we were caught off guard. Here's the thick slab of paper we're expected to sign willingly, because it was for the greater good. I do not deny that the Accords were created with such intentions, but the way they were introduced had me on the defensive, I'll admit.
"We weren't given the opportunity to negotiate the terms-"
Someone jumped up, demanding, "There was nothing to negotiate, Captain. Therefore your argument is invalided."
"According to you." Steve's chest puffed out, now standing at his full height and potential. This was no Steve Rogers, this was Captain America. "But let me ask you this, were your rights being taken away? Did you feel as if you were being cornered by thousands?" He let that linger in the air with a questioning raise of his eyebrow. "Didn't think so."
"Had we been given more time to fully understand the Accords and express our grievances with it, we might have been able to come to a reasonable conclusion. Something that would have given all one-hundred-thirty-seven countries solace that we, the Avengers, would be no threat. The only reason, I believe, that that didn't happen was due to the time crunch we were on. We're given this book that will dictate how our lives will go on for the foreseeable future. We were given two choices: sign or retire. Neither were good options."
An older woman cleared her throat and stood. "Do explain yourself, Captain. Why couldn't you retire? You're an old man, you've worked long enough. You deserve to retire if you wish, so why did you fight instead of taking the opportunity to stop?"
Steve looked her in the eye and said, "With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think it's possible for any of us to retire-"
"That's not true-"
"Ma'am, we are not regular people. As much as we'd like to return to civilian life, to live without the world weighing on our shoulders, it isn't likely. Wanda will always be feared, as much as I hate it. There will always be people afraid of what she could do. Natasha will never be fully trusted, not by those in power or the ignorant at least. Vision will always be stared at, in wonder and in fear. Tony and Colonel Rhodes have a good chance at returning to what their lives once were, but there will always be those people who hate them for what they've done or failed to do. There's nothing we can do to change our reputations we have created over these years. Children will always stop us, people will always want pictures, and someone will always want our help."
He moved around the desk, pacing in front of the delegates. "We, as the Avengers, have created a brand that represents what society should do for one another. We help. We save. We protect."
Steve looked to T'Challa, who was watching with a proud gleam in his eyes. "I know we don't exactly have a high approval rating, especially since the events that happened in Sokovia and Lagos. We had good intentions, we didn't mean to cause so much pain and destruction. It doesn't take away from the facts that our plan didn't work the way we thought it would. And in that respect, I do believe that as an organization we need to work on planning things to the full extent. As in we need to prepare for every scenario we can.
"Now about the Accords. I don't agree with them. Not as they are written at the moment, at least. First of all, like I mentioned before, the introduction and handling of the Accords was sketchy as hell." Half of the delegation gasped at Steve's language, finally realizing that this wasn't just Captain America standing before them. "If any of you were handed something to sign that could be life changing, you sure as hell wouldn't just trust the man handing you the papers and a pen. You'd read it left to write, cover to cover, up and down. You would have it annotated and a full negotiation deal drafted within the day, had you been handed the papers. We were not given that opportunity. Half of my team jumped to conclusions, following Secretary Ross' very brief and vague explanations. I'd like to remind you all that I read the Accords cover to cover and I didn't like what I saw. That is why I didn't jump at the chance to sign, not when everyone was too eager for me to give name over.
"Second, these Accords are unconstitutional. No one should be expected to be treated this way. Not only are you asking that we put ourselves in a self-imposed exile, but you're violating the thirteenth amendment. If I recall, the amendment states that 'neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.'-"
"That does not apply in this situation," someone claimed.
"But it does," Steve said through a frustrated laugh. "Because part of the Accords states that if we sign, we can no longer act when we feel necessary. We have to wait to be deployed by the United Nations' panel that dictates whether or not we're needed."
Steve rolled his shoulders and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know if your history books mentioned this, but I fought like hell to get into the military. I wanted to fight in the war, mostly because everyone said I couldn't. I'm stubborn like that. That being said, I had every enlisting and draft law memorized just so I could find any loophole that applied to my situation. I like to stay updated nowadays, so I kept up with those laws.
"The US government only forces men to register for the draft, but only until they're twenty-six. Those of us on the Avengers who are male, US citizens, and human are older than twenty-six. So there goes that," Steve said with as much sass as he possibly could. "Then you have the simple fact that I, and Colonel Rhodes, served in the military for a considerable time. Therefore, we cannot be drafted either. Furthermore, none of us could be deployed by the UN panel."
Steve let that sit, watching as people shifted under his gaze. The Avengers watched in a mix of awe and pride, eager to see their Captain sweep the floor with these delegates in their own game.
"I don't even want to begin with my friends being held on the Raft without being taken to a magistrate, offered counsel, or given a trial. That's enough violations in and of itself. I'm too pissed about that bullshit to even begin to discuss it in a polite tone," Steve seethed.
The courtroom was stunned into silence.
Steve moved back to stand in front of his seat, anger evident on his features. "You all want to oversee the Avengers? Fine. Go ahead, but answer me this first." He pointed out to Tony. "Where was the oversight when it was revealed that Stark Industries sold weapons to terrorists?" His arm slung towards Secretary Ross, his arm rigid and accusing. "Where was the oversight when then General Ross ordered the experiments to create the Abomination. Where was the oversight when he violated the fourth amendment and searched Dr. Bruce Banner's personal files and data without a warrant?" He lowered his arm, but his face remained shadowed with righteous anger. "Where was the oversight when the US' own Vice President Rodriquez participated in a conspiracy to overthrow the government? Where was the oversight when S.H.I.E.L.D performed experiments that brought Loki to Earth? Where was the oversight when Hydra was revealed to be within S.H.I.E.L.D? Where was the oversight when Tony and Dr. Banner created Ultron?
"Did it only just occur to you that you could stop these events from taking place? If having oversight can prevent the Avengers from causing more harm than necessary, then why haven't you tried it before things got out of hand? Before innocent lives were lost? Before one of your own lost their lives?" He bellowed.
Steve leaned against the desk, breathing hard. Everything was still around him, watching him with wary eyes. "I didn't sign, not because I didn't want to be told what to do, but because it's not right," he started sincerely with his voice down low. "I made a name for myself by going against orders and breaking rules. The only reason I ever do what I do is because I believe in it. I believe that signing the Accords isn't the right means to cooperation. And now that I've explained why I was opposed, let me explain why I wouldn't submit.
"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is alive and innocent. I can already see you shutting me down, but I need you to listen to me," his voice grew desperate, "because he doesn't deserve this. He was a prisoner of war and wrongly accused by Zemo. His actions as the Winter Soldier shouldn't even be held against him, let alone damning him to a life of solitary confinement like you all want. I needed to show you that it wasn't him, that you couldn't blame Zemo's actions on him just because you think he's a criminal.
"I fought like hell against these Accords, to the point that I lost some of my family - the only family I've had since 1945. Try me all you want, but just know that my actions had a reason behind them. I wasn't just reacting, not completely at least." With that, he sat back down with the same bland expression he walked in with.
They let him go without any charges against him.
~*~*~*~
Tony was waiting at the same table they sat at when Steve met his interior designer when he walked in. He had his back to the door, hunkered over the menu as if he didn't already know what he wanted.
Steve cleared his throat as he took his seat, making sure his presence was known. He grabbed his menu, looking over it just as Tony was.
Eventually a waiter came to ask Steve about his drink (he ordered a water) and Tony finally acknowledged him. "Thanks for meeting me here."
"Not a problem." Steve leaned back in his seat. They stared at each other intensely, ignoring the bustling of the restaurant around them. Steve could hardly take it, the tension rising between them. "Why did you invite me?"
Tony raised an eyebrow in a somewhat mocking tone before he shook his head with a rare sincerity. "I don't like how things played out. I'll admit I acted like a dick and I'm sorry for not giving you any room to talk things through and pressuring you into signing those atrocious papers."
Steve was shocked, but glad. "Tony, that means a lot to hear that from you. I," he took a deep breath, "didn't act like a good friend either. I've told you this before, but I genuinely thought I was doing something good for you by not telling you about your, um, parents. There is nothing that I could say to show just how truly sorry I am for that. I hated fighting with you, especially since all you've done for me since I woke up was help me adjust to my new surroundings."
A hand stretched across the table, Tony giving him a small smile. "Call it even?"
"Absolutely." Steve took Tony's hand with pride, grinning as big as he could. "So what have I missed?"
Tony let out a sigh of relief, leaning back in his seat. "I almost proposed to Pepper."
"What? That's great! Why didn't you?"
"Wrong time."
"What happened?"
"We were trying to get Spider-kid to join the Avengers after-"
"After his thing with the Vulture, yeah, I read about that."
"He didn't want it, thought it was a test or something," Tony waved it off. "We had a press conference ready and everything, so I had to improvise."
"Are you planning on proposing soon, though?" Steve was invested, face alight with a childish glee.
Tony shrugged, smirking. "Maybe when things start to settle a bit."
Steve scoffed. "When have things ever settled for us?"
"You make a good point there, Cap."
They talked a bit more, Steve asking about Spider-Man and how Stark Industries was doing. Tony was rambling about new projects when they ordered their food and didn't stop until their food arrived. After a few quiet bites, he bravely asked, "What's the situation with Barnes?"
Steve tensed, fork raised halfway to his face. He looked up at an innocent looking Tony, skeptical about what his intentions were. "He, um, went back under. T'Challa's sister, Shuri, is trying to get the Winter Soldier programming out of his head, but until then he thought it best to go back in the cryo chamber."
Tony was taken aback. "Really?"
With a grave nod, Steve continued to shovel food into his mouth. "Before he went in, though, he was... Bucky. Somewhere in between who I knew and grew up with and who Hydra made him."
"Think she can do it?"
Steve smirked. "She could give you a run for her money, Stark. Kid's a genius."
"I'll be the judge of that when I meet her. When do you go back?" he challenged.
"Two months, then she's going to operate and see what she can do."
"Mind if I join?"
"You're not just playing me so you can secretly kill Bucky, are you?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "I promise I won't try to bodily harm Barnes. I just want to offer my wallet and... be there for you."
Steve was touched. How could he say no to that? "I'll email Pepper the details."
~*~*~*~
Steve and Sam move into an apartment in Brooklyn, where Bucky will join them eventually
Sam danced his way into the hotel room, waving a thick stack of papers in the air. "We did it! We did it! We got ourselves a place to live, Steven! A place where the walls aren't too thin to hear strangers having sex! Steve, we're not homeless!" He half-sang.
Steve laughed, barely lifting himself to look at his friend from his spot on the bed. He was lounging on his bed, Property Brothers on the TV. "That was fast? I thought she said we couldn't finalize everything for another week?"
"She changed her mind since we paid the next six months' rent up front."
Steve shrugged. "When can we move in?"
"Tomorrow!"
"You really want to get out of this place, don't you?"
"Dude, I'm tired of smelling your B.O. from across the room." Steve slung a pillow at him, hitting him in the torso. Sam chuckled and continued, "If Banner ever shows up, we've gotta get him to get you a special super-soldier approved deodorant."
"Fuck off!" Steve laughed. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet. "Guess we should go shopping for furniture and shit? Unless we're hauling up our stuff from DC?"
Sam shook his head. "I still have to commute, unlike some people."
"I still don't get why you try to commute to all of these places. DC for the VA, upstate for the Avengers, and to Harlem to work with the kids from your old neighborhood." Steve shook his head. "Don't see how you do it."
"Honestly? Neither do I."
The two spent the day shopping for furniture and discussing the layout of their new apartment. With three bedrooms and a living room that needed furnishing, they had a lot on their plates. Steve suggested grabbing lunch and sketching out the designs for their home before they finalized any decisions on home decor. That's how they ended up huddling over Steve's sketchbook in Central Park, mouths filled with their respective sandwiches.
Sam pointed to the couch Steve had just drawn in the living room. "I'm not crazy about the super modern, edgy, sleek look, ya know?"
"Agreed, but I don't want something too old fashioned or hipster." Steve started to erase the sleek couch, wiping away the shavings.
"We just need something in between."
"Comfort over style, right?"
"Exactly," Sam sighed. "God, why is this so difficult?"
Steve shrugged, sketching an outline of a large, comfy sofa into the living room. "That looks a little better," he mumbled. "If we did warm tones, it might be too much. But a light, cool tone would make the room more relaxing-"
"You watch too much HGTV."
"Shut up." He flipped to the next page, the third bedroom. "How do you want to handle the third bedroom?"
"Well," Sam started, "I was thinking that we keep it simple and just get the basics for now. Then, whenever Bucky gets out of the chamber he can decorate it as he wishes."
Steve looked up, in awe of his best friend. "Really?"
Sam clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Steve, I'm not just going to let him live on the streets. He needs support to heal and relearn how to make his own choices. So yeah, if Bucky wants to live with us then so be it."
"Sam, I don't know what to say," Steve whispered.
"Don't say anything, just keep sketching out the rooms."
Steve rolled his eyes, but sketched out Bucky's bedroom nonetheless. "I think you should have the master, then."
Sam shook his head. "Nope. You can have the master because if you and Bucky ever get back together, you'll need more room than me. Besides, you're the one who is paying all of the bills. It's only fair that you get the master."
With a blush, Steve didn't respond. "Plus, I don't need to hear any of the Good Captain's extracurriculars." Steve slowly closed his book, carefully putting away his pencils and erasers. He picked up the book and whacked it against Sam's bicep. "Ow!" Sam laughed.
"My bad."