AMERICA'S POV
I close my eyes and remind myself to breathe. Terror runs up and down my body, clawing at my brain with razor-sharp claws. It's not them. It's the UN. It's not Hydra. Hydra's gone. You made sure of it. But I can't understand why this is happening, and I hate flying.
When I open my eyes, I glance at Steve. He glares at the handcuffs binding my wrists. He doesn't have any. It's just me. The fire in his eyes is stronger than I've ever seen it. Two blue flames. He's livid at how we're being treated, me specifically. Even though my hands are bound together, I still reach for his hand. He grips it tightly and doesn't let go.
No one speaks for the entire five-hour flight from California to New York, not even the UN officials. Maybe they don't want to share information. I wonder if they're waiting for us to talk instead. One thing that's wonderful about Steve and I, though, is how well we work as a team. We've always been able to sense what the other's next move is. And right now, our move is to bide our time. I get uncomfortable every time one of them glances back, their gaze lingering on me. Whether it's because of my outfit or my reputation, I don't know, but I don't like either option one bit.
When we finally land, I'm surprised to find that we're outside of the compound. I shiver as we walk through the snowy grounds, cursing the UN in my head the entire way. A bathing suit and shorts are not appropriate for winter in New York. At least Steve gets to wear a shirt. No, no, I'm stuck walking into whatever I'm walking into wearing practically nothing and handcuffed.
The officers flank us the entire way, up the stairs, down the hallways. People watch us curiously, like we're some kind of freak show. Apparently, I can't even walk free in my own home. When one of them pushes open the door to the living room, the entire team is waiting. Some are on the couch, or at the island in the kitchen, and some are just standing, but all of them are on edge.
My face burns in shame as they take in my appearance. Immediately, I see the expression on Pietro's face morph from concern for Wanda into anger for the officers. I duck my head as one of them unlocks my handcuffs, then leaves with his partner. I rub my sore wrists and stare at my friends, my family, my team.
"Mer, doll, give them a chance," Steve whispers, but at the moment, even he can't comfort me. I'm humiliated and I'm burning with rage and confusion.
My voice is quiet, but anger causes my voice to tremble, and everyone can hear me.
"I'm going to go change," I say, making eye contact with each one, "and when I come back, I better get a damn good explanation for this."
Once I'm in my room, I pull on the most comforting, most concealing outfit I can find, a thick turtleneck and jeans. Then I just sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my bare wrists. They're red from irritation. I can't believe they thought they had to handcuff me. What did they think I was going to do? I thought they were starting to trust me.
When I return to the lounge, I don't bother sitting. I stand next to Steve and fold my arms across my chest.
"What happened? What happened that was so bad that Steve and I had to be taken by the UN from our honeymoon? What happened that was so urgent that I had no time to change out of my bathing suit? What happened that was so threatening that I had to be handcuffed the entire flight?" Tears bite my eyes by the end of my questions, but I push them away.
No one seems to know what to say. Wanda stares at the ground, her lip trembling, incredibly close to what looks like a mental breakdown. Pietro has a comforting arm around her shoulders, but his focus is on me. And it's at this moment that I realize Tony hasn't graced us with his presence. Finally, Natasha clears her throat.
"Sam called you guys about a week ago, right? We had a lead on Rumlow and we decided to follow it. We didn't want to bring the two of you in, not while you were finally getting a break, and Tony and Rhodes busy. Clint's still at home. We didn't have time to wait. We went ourselves." She sighs and rubs her forehead. Sam continues up the conversation for her.
"We went to Lagos. Rumlow was there getting biological weapons. Long story short, he's dead," Sam says. "Got caught up in an explosion."
"An explosion?" Steve asks, arching his eyebrows. "Did you guys blow something up?"
Wanda's eyes widen as she holds back tears. Pietro glares at Steve and says, "Rumlow started that explosion. We saved as many as we could."
"Let me see," I say. "Sam, please."
Reluctantly, Sam hands me a tablet, and I scroll through articles, stopping at a video. Steve leans over, and we watch as Rumlow tries to kill both himself and Natasha, but Wanda throws the explosion up into the air. I hold in a gasp as the flames crash into a nearby building.
This was definitely worth calling us home for.
"So when did this happen?" I ask, passing the tablet back to Sam.
"Three days ago," he responds. "The media's had a heyday, I'm surprised you guys hadn't heard about it before."
"What happened to you two?" Natasha asks. She obviously has a general idea but still wants to hear it from us.
"Well, we were watching TV late at night when someone knocked on the door," Steve starts. "Obviously we were pretty confused, and when we got to the door, there were two UN officers there demanding that we leave with them immediately. Once we got on the helicopter, they handcuffed Mer and refused to tell us anything. Flight lasted about five hours, and now we're here."
"Guys, I'm so sorry," Sam apologizes.
"Oh, it's fine," I say, waving him off even though I am still very, very angry at them all. My voice cracks. "Absolutely fine."
Nat sighs and stands from her spot on the couch. "Tony won't be here until tomorrow. He's busy dishing out money from the September Foundation. It's late. I say we all get some sleep." Murmurs of agreement spread through the room, and everyone slowly starts to disperse. Sam comes up to us, shame on his face.
"Man, I'm sorry about this. We tried to get them to leave you guys alone, but the UN was insistent that we all were here. We didn't want to tell them where you were."
"It's not your fault, Sam," Steve says, putting a hand on his shoulder. I just give him a stiff nod.
Wanda bolted as soon as we ended the conversation, but I tell Steve I'll meet him in his room and walk over to Pietro, who wraps me in a tight, protective hug.
"I'm so sorry, Valeria. I can't believe that this happened. They shouldn't have treated you like that." He growls out the last sentence.
"They don't trust me, Pietro. After all of this time, they still don't. I don't know what else I can do anymore. And the worst part is, I don't blame them. I'm still scared of myself."
He shakes his head helplessly. "I wish I knew what to tell you."
"Is Wanda going to be okay?"
"I'll check on her," he mumbles. "Go be with Steve, I'll see you in the morning."
I nod and run to Steve's room. He sits at the corner of his bed, his head in his hands, clearly agitated. "Hey."
He quickly looks up at me. "Mer, I am so, so sorry about all of this." I can see it in his eyes: he's blaming himself. I sit on the bed and rub his back comfortingly.
"It's not your fault, Steve. I know it wasn't."
"I know. But it still happened. They treated us like prisoners. They handcuffed and humiliated you!" He throws his hands in the air.
"I know. I'm so angry about it all. I thought I was going to lose it." I hesitate to say the words I want to. "They were... looking at me."
"Damn it," he mutters, running his fingers through his hair. It's one thing for me to curse, but I know it's bad now that he's started cursing, too. "I'm so sorry, doll. I really am."
"Tony's gonna flip, isn't he? When he gets here." I can't imagine how he's going to react.
"I don't care about Tony. I care about you."
I sigh, entwining my fingers in his. "It's going to be okay. We're in this together, remember?" We sit in silence for the longest time until we realize how late it actually is. Past three in the morning. I don't even change. I just climb into bed and close my eyes, hovering somewhere between awake and asleep. Eventually, he speaks again.
"I don't trust any of this," he whispers into the darkness, probably unsure if I'm even conscious.
"Me either."
What do you guys think is going to happen? Everyone's mad, Civil War's coming and she's going to have to pick a side...