#tiny reverse bang

Broken furniture, office supplies and electronic equipment were scattered all over the floor. Steve could see bullet holes and scorch marks all over the place. There was also a large hole blasted in the outer wall.

The exit point, undoubtedly. Fleetingly, Steve wondered why Tony had not simply flown out the window on the other side. It seemed a more logical choice; quicker and demanding less effort.

Steve’s jaw went tight. If he’d known Tony – truly had known him – now he would not have been standing in the wreckage of SHIELD’s Seattle subsidiary, surveying the damage, with the leaden weight of failure resting heavily on his shoulders.

It was his task to apprehend Iron Man and bring him to justice. The problem was Steve was not doing a particularly good job of it.

Taking a deep breath, Steve walked over to the hole in the wall; glass, wood and plastic crunching underneath his boots.

Slowly, tentatively Steve reached out, his gloveless fingers tracing the jagged edges of brick and concrete, the familiar pressure building inside his chest.

Four years ago, he’d watched Tony Stark fly a nuke through a portal and into space. Watched him willingly offer his own life in exchange for saving thousands.

Three years ago, he’d been standing on the roof of the Avengers Tower, his arms wrapped firmly around Tony’s waist, and his lips locked with Tony’s in a passionate, dizzying kiss.

Two years ago, he’d found himself looking up at the sky above DC, watching in helpless terror as the last of Project Insight’s helicarriers dropped from the sky and the familiar red and gold shape of Iron Man hovered in the air for a split second, only to disappear from view in the next moment.

Steve still could not understand why Tony had done it. Could not accept – despite everything Tony has done, despite the monster he’s been working with – that the man he’d held in his arms, the man he lo-

Gritting his teeth, Steve forced his thoughts back to the present. He was emotionally compromised, but he was still the best person to stop Tony and the Winter Soldier. He owed it to Peggy. He owed it to Fury. And to all other of their victims.

Steve started to turn, when a splatter of red on the floor caught his eye.

Frowning, Steve lowered himself into a crouch, his stomach sinking when he recognized it for what it was.

Blood.

“Rumlow?” Steve called out, standing up and levelling Rumlow with a hard stare. “I was informed there were no casualties.”

Rumlow, who was standing on the opposite side of the room, looked up from the phone in his hand. “That’s not from one of ours,” Rumlow replied, his lips curling over his teeth. “We got the bastard before he flew away.”

Steve blinked. “What?” Steve was aware of the roughness of his voice, heavy with something that was nowhere near triumph or relief. He paused a moment, breathed deeply, forced his voice into blank neutrality. “How?”   

Rumlow’s grin widened, and he tapped the gun that was secured in his arm holster. “Experimental rounds,” Rumlow explained. The implication froze the blood in Steve’s veins. His eyes darted back toward the blood spatter, his throat filling with bile as dread and panic twist inside his chest. That was Tony’s blood. Tony had been shot. Tony had been hurt. “Made especially for Iron Man.”

Fury, bright-hot and vicious, surges within Steve, colouring his vision red, his heartbeat a thundering beat in his ears.

SHIELD was no longer playing. They were going for the kill now. Pierce wanted Tony dead.

Drawing a shaky breath, Steve dragged his eyes from the blood spattering the floor, fixed Rumlow with a blank stare. “I wasn’t aware there had been a change in the orders regarding Iron Man’s capture.”

“Well, Cap,” Rumlow drawled, the easy smile on his face standing in sharp contrast to the malicious gleam in his eyes. “You were out of the country for a month. Things have changed in the meantime.”

Steve gritted his teeth, his fingers baling into fists. He’d never wanted to go on that mission in Pakistan, but Pierce had ordered him to go, and Steve could not have disobeyed a direct order.

“Yes,” Steve said in a low voice, holding Rumlow’s gaze unblinkingly. He allowed himself a small, closed-mouthed smile. “That certainly seems to be the case. And not for the better.”

Then, without another word, Steve pushed past Rumlow and strode out of the ruined office and into the hall. He didn’t stop walking until he reached his temporary office, slamming the door closed after himself.

Dragging a trembling hand across his face, Steve shut his eyes for a moment, trying and failing to calm his erratic breathing.

Tony was no longer Steve’s teammate, no longer his friend. No longer his lover. Those were the facts, and Steve had accepted them as truth.

But there was no way in hell Steve was going to stand back and let Pierce execute Tony. No matter what Tony has done in the last two years.

Even teaming up with the Winter Soldier.

“Damn you, Tony,” Steve cursed underneath his breath, helplessness, regret and betrayal wreaking havoc inside the hollow of his chest. Wrapping his fingers around the edge of a desk, he stared at Tony’s face on the computer screen, the familiar features bringing no comfort but cutting through his ribcage like a knife. “Goddamn you.”

Steve didn’t feel any pain when his fist crashed through the screen, and Tony’s face disappeared into nothingness with a loud crash, followed by a shower of sparks. He felt no relief, either.