Chapter Text
Through the eyes of Steve:
'Tony,
I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself.
We all need family. The Avengers are yours. Maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army.
My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't.
I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand.
I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should.
So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us... if you need me... I'll be there.'
- Steve
Steve had written that letter to Tony a few days before he had freed Sam and the rest of his team from the raft.
At first he thought, he wouldn’t get an answer any time soon.
After breaking into the security prison and getting Sam, Clint, Scott and Wanda the hell out of there, Steve stopped believing in an answer. He still kept the phone on him at all times though, of course.
It had been the next morning, Steve was back in Wakanda, when he had gotten a notification on the little phone. THE phone. The phone that had only Tonys number in it, the phone that was his only connection to him. The phone he had with him everywhere he went.
Steve practically jumped up from his seat when he heard the ring tone, his heart beating violently in his chest as he looked at the small screen in his hands.
All it said was:
You would turn yourself in, if you really cared about me.
And here he was.
14 hours later, Steve stood in front of a dozen armed men, their helmets reflecting the rays of the scorching hot sun of the east african desert.
Every instinct in his body was screaming at him, itching for a fight, but he would not listen to that small voice inside his head, that told him to stand up for himself, that told him to resist. Steve Rogers would do no such thing today.
“Rogers.” Secretary Ross paused as he stepped forward, Steve could hear the whirring rotor blades of the military plane behind the man interrupting his voice, making it sound robotic. The small grains of dust that were whirling around Steves face scratched at his eyes and made them burn. He could feel as the sand was creeping down his back and nose, making him want to squirm. “Never thought I’d see the day.” His otherwise cold expression was overshadowed by a triumphant glimmer in his cold eyes, looking at Steve like he was a piece of prey he had hungrily yearned for.
“Let’s get this over with.” Steve said tonelessly, his straight up posture faltering a little bit from the exhaustion of the past weeks. Only a few days ago he had freed Sam and the rest of the imprisoned Avengers from the raft. The same place he was headed to right now.
Ross stared at him for a few more seconds, as to whether he was not sure yet if he could take Steve’s word for granted. Then he made a commanding movement with his hands, setting the men around him into action as they approached Steve slowly. He wasn’t surprised when two of them pulled out stun guns and shot him in the back and legs. For a second, everything turned blindingly bright, he felt the electricity surging through his body. He groaned in pain, looking up at the blue sky above him as he squeezed his eyes shut and for a moment he just stood there, shaking. His knees gave out from the shock, still trembling as he hit the ground and toppled over with gritted teeth. He could have resisted, he could have got up and beat these fools to a pulp - but he didn’t.
It felt good.
“Don’t make any trouble.” He heard Ross say from next to him as he was escorted to the plane, his feet dragging lifelessly on ground, leaving a trail in the sand, as a few men held him on their shoulders. Steve’s head swung from left to right, barely able to see as his eyes were twitching shut.
They dropped him in a seat in the middle of the plane, cuffed his hands and feet, the metal was cold against his burning skin.
“When can I see him.” Steve asked, pearls of sweat dancing above his upper lip. Strands of golden hair were pressed flat against his forehead as a thick collar was put over his head. It squeezed tightly against his neck as one of the guards shut it closed with a clicking sound. It whirred against his neck as the guard pressed a button on a controller, which he then handed over to Ross.
“You, my friend, are in no place to ask questions.” The white haired man said as he sat on the opposite of Steve, crossed his legs and looked at the controller he had been handed earlier.
They weren’t friends.
Steve huffed out a deep breath of air, making the damp hair against his forehead fly up momentarily. He knew Ross was right. He was in no place to ask anything. Still, it hurt him to not know what Tony was doing at this time, if he was doing well, where he was staying, if he had a mission. At the end of the day, he did all this for Tony. A part of him had hoped that maybe, Tony would visit him at the raft, only for a short conversation. A short moment in which he had the chance to tell Tony how sorry he was. But it wouldn’t be enough to only say sorry. He had to show Tony how sorry he really was.
You would turn yourself in, if you really cared about me.
And if for Tony that meant to go to prison until god knows when, then so be it. He would do it with a smile on his face.
“Sorry for this.” Ross said as he looked up from his controller, only that judging from his smirk, he wasn’t really sorry, Steve could tell. The next thing he felt was a sharp sting from the collar on his neck, something making its way through Steve’s body, it took over his legs and arms, as it filled up his veins, making his whole body go numb.
“What-“ Steve stuttered with wide eyes before he fell into a deep hole of pitch black darkness. All he could remember was Ross’ appalling and degrading smile as he turned away from Steve. He would beat that motherfucker if he ever had the chance again, Steve thought.
Through the eyes of Tony Stark:
The tears that formed in his eyes as he finished reading Steve’s letter a few times clouded his vision as he fumbled for the phone. He typed:
Do not ever writeb me again.
He corrected his typo and rewrote the sentence, even more furious now.
Do not ever write me again. You’re a traitor, nothing more.
His thumb hovered over the send-button.
But he couldn’t press it.
It felt petty and weak to text him. To give him the slightest gratification of a hateful answer.
Snorting at his own incompetence, he threw the little box the phone came in into the trash can next to his desk. He opened the drawer at the very bottom and threw the stupid thing in there.
The next few days consisted of him and Rhodey having breakfast together, training together, getting Rhodeys feet back to working - which turned out to be a pain in the ass.
Every time Rhodey flinched in pain when he set a foot down, regret filled Tony’s heart and made him clench his jaw. “You good?“ Rhodey would ask and Tony would nod, then roll his eyes because why the fuck was HE HIMSELF the one being asked if he was okay, when Rhodey couldn’t even walk properly.
“Is it Steve?”
Tony huffed out a laugh and shook his head.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it but… you know I’m here for you.”
“Let’s never talk about him again?” Tony gave him a tired smirk as he turned around and got Rhodeys wheelchair.
“Thank god I’m not your therapist.”
“Therapists don’t have friends who make them end up in a wheelchair.” He retorted as he walked up to Rhodey, said vehicle rolling in front of him.
Rhodey gave him a disappointed look. “Look, Tony. What happened wasn’t your fault. I fought willingly next to you. We all did.”
“Yeah well, and what did it get us? Nothing.”
“Right now we need to be on Ross’ good side and stay low. We have a lot to work on at the compound. So focus on that. Oh, and focus on Pepper!”
Tony’s avert gaze only got Rhodey going.
“You haven’t talked to her yet?! Tony, are you out of your mind? She’s been worried sick-“
“Of course I talked to her.” Tony bit back as he remembered Pepper’s tired and disappointed eyes looking at him.
He sighed, recomposing himself.
“Good. Good.”
Silence.
“Now sit down old lady, let’s get you some breakfast.”
And breakfast they ate.
Except that it was a very short breakfast because Tony saw Steve’s face in the news, almost making him vomit the gluten-free pancakes on the marble floor.
“The avengers were freed from the raft this morning. They escaped without any trace. Suspicions were raised, that Captain America is behind the escape and authorities are searching for him right as we speak. Here we have Secretly Ross speaking, who was so kind as to give us an update about the current situation of the Avengers-“
Tony shut down the blaring TV and gripped his spoon so tight, that it left blue spots on his fingers.
“Tony-”
Tony knew how Rhodey must have felt when he left him sitting alone at the breakfast table and he couldn’t chase after him but all he could think about was Steve waltzing into the godforsaken prison and getting all his friends back. Steve laughing with them, with Bucky and Sam and Clint as they spoke about Tony. How they were probably off better without him, how they didn’t need him.
It was unfair.
He thought of Steve leaving him there on the cold ground in Siberia, his Bucky on the shoulder, the shield in his free hand.
He thought about the way Steve’s blood-covered head had looked when the blonde had been lying on the concrete. He thought about what he had said to the blonde.
“Final warning.”
What if he had just blasted him right there?
It was a bad thing to think.
He didn’t want to kill Steve, he just wanted him to hurt. Feel the pain, the betrayal. Just like Tony had to.
When he arrived in his office he sat down at his desk and fished out the flip phone from the bottom drawer. His left, still not fully healed, leg was screaming from pain in the process.
While he was typing the words in, he kept a composed posture, nobody would see that he was furious on the inside, only the lightly clenched jaw would have given him away.
You would turn yourself in, if you really cared about me.
He knew it was a cheap move to text Steve that sentence. But the anger and disappointment he felt in his bones and in the spot where Steve had driven his dad’s shield into his chest still sat too deep to think rationally right now. And for once Tony Stark did not give a fuck about what was right or wrong, he just wanted to see Steve suffer as much as he did. Would it ever go away?
He didn’t even know what suffering he wanted to accomplish with that text but he sent it anyway. Wouldn’t it be amusing if he really followed Tonys instructions? Steve Rogers, the traitor, the Captain, finally in handcuffs. The only place where a liar like him should be.
It was meant as a joke, really.
But then again, it wasn’t at all.
When Tony went to bed that evening, the text didn’t let him sleep. Staring at the ceiling, it flew around in his head. He let his anger get the better of him and acted out of pure impulse and frustration. God, what a child he was. Now Steve was probably laughing at how easily Tony folded.
“Don’t bullshit me Rogers, did you know.”
“Yes.”
“He’s my friend.”
Nevermind.
The text was fine.
Tony woke up in the middle of the night, the metal bracelet around his arm vibrating against his skin.
When he turned on the news, all he could feel was a weird feeling settling at the pit of his stomach.
“Steve Rogers has turned himself in after negotiations with Secretary Ross. We are now displaying footage of the arrest.”
Tony watched the scenes on the holographic screen that filled the darkness of his bedroom with blue light.
Steve Rogers was being electrocuted right in front of him, his feet staggering as his body shook from the high voltage. A voltage so high that even Steve’s body couldn’t handle it, and he saw the Super-Soldiers body go stiff, fall to the floor. Tonys thoughts were racing, he felt as though he had just woken up inside a dream of his.
None of this felt real.
With wide eyes, he could see Steve’s lifeless silhouette being carried into the heli-carrier, the beaming light of the screen burning in his eyes.
The tall mans feet were hanging to the floor, his broad shoulders and arms hung on the armed men around him as his head was swinging from side to side.
That fucker Ross. He hadn’t even informed Tony about the upcoming arrest.
“Friday, set up a meeting with our beloved Secretary Ross.”
Through Steve’s eyes:
“Where am I.”
There were hands on him, covered in gloves. He felt metallic sticks being pressed against and under his skin, leaving a burning sensation behind and Steves heart begann to race as he felt a cold liquid being injected. Next, he felt his blood being drained.
No.
No.
No.
“No-” the words were barely audible to his ears, his mouth and brain couldn’t form any more words, the only thing he felt was the cold surrounding his body and there was a clinical stench filling his nose.
“Where-” he turned his head from side to side, all he could see was bright light, a white ceiling and lights.
He heard people mumbling something, clacking sounds and the beeping noise of a heart monitor, that took up in its pace. It took him a few seconds to realize that his raged breath and his climbing heart rate were in direct connection with the heart monitor, meaning that he was-
“Sedate him. We need more.”
Steve tried to pull up his arms but they were restrained, and for the second time in his life, Steve felt completely helpless. The first time had been after he had woken up from the ice. But this was worse. He swore to himself that he would never ever let anyone experiment on him again.
“No-”
Nobody heard him. He wasn’t even sure if he really said anything.
A sting in his neck and then everything went back to black.
When he came to, he was lying on a hard bed.
Comforting to him, as he had felt the same hard bed underneath him when he was in the army.
He sat up quietly, taking in the grey walls and floor around him. There was a tiny window at the bottom of the door in front of him, it was sealed shut. Next to his bed sat what looked like a toilet. The floor was hard and cold beneath his bare feet.
In the top corner of his room, a small cube thing was installed but Steve didn’t know what it was. A camera? A sensor? He could’ve cared less.
The collar around his neck was still purring and blinking. He stood up, wearing nothing but a blue jumpsuit and stalked over to the shut window. He bent down as he tried to listen for something unusual or maybe a voice or an electronic device. But nothing.
Confused, he looked down at his arms, they were still throbbing with pain.
Steve didn’t know how long he had been under, but judging from the still open wounds on his inner arms and chest and the almost healed up scars on his back from the electronic shocks, he would say about 12 hours.
He softly stroked over the holes and bruises, where they had punctured his skin and left blue circles.
So they had taken his blood?
Run a few tests?
Steve shivered internally at the thought.
A few more hours went by. Nothing.
The holes on his arms had finally closed.
24 hours.
He heard footsteps approaching him. From the sounds of them, they had been walking down a long corridor after taking a turn to the left. He wondered in which part of the raft he was. Maybe with time, he could find out.
“Message from the Warden. Meal time is twice or once a day, eight im the morning and eight in the evening. You will be provided with an amount of food and water. You are allowed to have visitors every Sunday. Resistance will not be allowed, inmate 76.”
Steve didn’t know if he could trust that voice, as a matter of fact he didn’t trust anybody anymore.
He remained silent, the footsteps leaving his cell just as fast as the came.
Days passed by, they brought him food and water twice a day.
Steve had resisted the urge to eat anything for the first few times but as his hunger grew, his stomach basically turning inside out, he couldn’t resist any longer. The serum would otherwise eat him up, it needed double the amount a man his size would normally need.
So even if he ate, it wasn’t at any rate enough food to get him through the next few weeks without loosing a massive amount of weight.
Steve halfheartedly ate and drank everything until there was no crumb left.
Sometimes Steve felt like they knew that the food wasn’t enough for him. The size of portions varied throughout the weeks, sometimes he was served two pieces of meat instead of three, sometimes there was no water.
It made him feel weak, the dehydration, the serum and the scarcely nutritious meals were nagging at him.
All he could do is lie in his bed all day, otherwise he would burn too many calories.
Sometimes he didn’t eat at all. Not because he wasn’t hungry- oh no, he was starving. But because he felt like he didn’t deserve it.
One day he passed out and the next thing he knew, he woke up again.
There were holes covering arms, almost so small you couldn’t see them but Steve knew that only a needle could leave this thin of a mark.
What they did to him while he was out, he wasn’t sure. Nothing was off, except for the nauseous feeling in his stomach. But that wasn’t out of the ordinary.
This happened a few times, he never got any information on what had happened to him while he was out.
It didn’t scare him.
It just made him angry.
After what felt like three weeks in battery-saving-mode, Steve wondered if anybody would ever visit him. He knew it had been about three weeks because his hair had grown past the top of his ear, just like it did before the ice.
For those three weeks, Steve had not seen a single persons face, the only thing he could see twice a day were the combat boots of the same two soldiers that came every morning and every evening to bring him his food through the tiny window.
He thought about trying to break out of here, had already made up a plan but the weakness in his bones stopped him from trying. Even if he did make it past the two guards and the warden, whose voice Steve sometimes heard, he didn’t know if he could still stand on his feet after he landed a few punches.
Three and something weeks went by and Steve was struggling to keep his eyes open. When he wasn’t busy eating, he was sleeping, blackout dead lying on the bed, his limbs numb, body twitching once in a while from a nightmare he didn’t have the power to wake himself up from.
He was woken up by a loud bang against the door, making Steve rise up from the bed as he took in a sharp breath. His head was pounding.
“Inmate 76, you are being escorted to the visitors hall. Get down on your knees and put your hands against the back of your head.”
And Steve did, he fell to his knees, barely keeping himself up as he put his hands behind his head, the dry skin of his palms burying themselves in his soft hair.
He looked at the door, eyes barely open and expecting.
“Now get down on the floor.”
Steve nodded absentmindedly, pressing his body and then his head against the cold concrete, keeping his hands against his back.
He heard the door being swung open, fresh air hitting his neck as he saw a shadow appear on the wall at the back of the cell.
All the air left his lungs as he was pressed even harder against the floor. He groaned in pain as his hands were bound behind his back, the sting of cold metal burning into his flesh.
A hood was pulled over his face, making him unable to see the mens faces and bodys. But he could still hear and smell.
“One wrong move, you get zapped.” It was the warden’s voice, the other men’s footsteps behind him, he didn’t recognize their walking pattern.
He was pulled up, his back arched in a weird way as the two guys behind him, one on his left, one on his right, pushed him through the door of his cell. The ground beneath his feet felt different here, more soft and the echoes of the mens shoes filled his sensitive ears. It was so much at the same time, he soaked up every single detail he could grasp at. At the same time he felt like falling, his mouth dry, his stomach hurting.
He memorized every single step, how they lead him through corridors and steel doors, how the guard on his right was slightly limping when he stepped on his left foot. He could take them out if he wanted to, the first mistake the had made was getting him out of that unbreakable cell. If it wasn’t for that collar around his neck, he would be out of here in no time. But Steve had tried to rip it off numerous times, each time resulting in a zap to his neck that almost knocked him out and made his eyelids flutter.
He had to get that controller from the warden or whoever had it.
But first he had to see who was visiting him today.
When they rounded a corner and sat him down on a cold chair, Steve could sense a familiar scent in his nose.
He staggered, the guard on his left shaking him until he took another step.
It couldn’t be-