Siberia

Spring 2016

Steve still couldn't quite believe who was walking ahead of him.

Well, actually he could.

This was why he'd hoped Tony and his assembled team wouldn't catch up to Steve and his own team until they're reached this very base. Because as soon as Tony had been presented with hard evidence that there was something far more ominous going on?

He hadn't hesitated to defy the Accords in favour of doing what needed to be done.

To do what was right.

As they'd pushed further into the bowels of the base, Tony had admitted in terse, hushed tones how he'd seen the indisputable evidence pointing to the fake doctor—a Helmut Zemo, formerly of Sokovian Special Operations, much to Steve's dismay—as having masterminded everything, including the Vienna bombing.

And how, as soon as he'd realized the implications, Tony had gotten the location of the base from Sam and raced after Steve, Bucky and Nadine as fast as he could.

Despite Ross shutting him down when he tried to apprise him of the real situation.

It was thanks to that simple fact that Tony had shown up alone.

Steve spared a quick glance to Tony from his careful assessment of their surroundings as the three of them moved deeper into the heart of the former Soviet missile silo.

That Tony was torn over everything that had gone down the last couple days was indisputable. It was evident in every line of his frame; how he held himself, how he'd looked—or avoided looking, depending on what was being said—Steve in the eye, the tone of his voice. All of it. He still believed he had the right of it, that the Accords were still the best of a bad situation, but that belief was shaken. Especially after having been confronted by just how badly they were already being twisted thanks to Ross.

But he nevertheless had the feeling that, despite the way Tony's faith in the viability of the Accords cracking, he wasn't about to denounce them. He was too proud for that. Too stubborn. Steve had some suspicions of the insecurities Tony fought alongside his personal ghosts. Insecurities that would prevent him from simply abandoning the commitment he'd made. The same sort of insecurities that often had him digging in his heels when he was uncertain, much as he had in Leipzig when Steve had started him doubting what was really going on by insisting that there was a wider conspiracy at play. No, Tony wasn't about to go rogue any more than Steve was about to suddenly throw in with The Accords. No matter that it seemed pretty clear to Steve that Tony had finally realized he'd made the wrong choice.

He had too much to lose, now. Too many people counting on him. To say his friend was in a tough position was putting it mildly.

Not that his noble streak would exactly let him back out at this point, either. Steve couldn't fight the idea that Tony was far more likely to try and fix his mistake—of blindly throwing his lot in with The Accords the way he had—by staying the course and doing as he'd suggested to Steve back in Berlin; by working from within to make the Accords what they should be. By doing whatever he could to fix his mistake. It was just who he was. His conviction for making things right was what had seen him to shutting down the weapons division of Stark Industries the moment he'd realized they were being sold to the wrong people. And it was that same drive that had pushed him to throw in with The Accords in the first place. The same drive that had seen his hand in the creation of both Ultron and Vision.

As Tony had professed in his own roundabout way more than once in the time Steve had known him: Tony was a fixer.

Not a soldier.

No, Steve had little doubt that, when this was over, even having finally been forced to confront just how broken they already were, Tony would do whatever he could to fix the Accords. And that he would do it by working from within.

It was a noble objective, he had to admit.

But Steve was still convinced that The Accords had been beyond saving before they'd even been ratified.

It was Tony's choice, though. And if that's how Tony wanted to play it, Steve knew full well that he wasn't going to be able to change his friend's mind. Tony was nothing if not single-minded when he was set on doing something.

It was one of his greatest strengths just as it was an equally fatal flaw.

Steve bit back a heavy sigh.

The three of them edged through another door, every sense primed and peeled for even the slightest hint that they weren't alone. Glancing back to Bucky where he stood just off Steve's right rear quarter, he took note of Bucky's silent direction. Subtly nodding his understanding, Steve continued on, falling in next to Tony as they cautiously made their way along a corridor lined on one side by what appeared to be a bank of confinement cells on their way through the maze that was the subterranean levels of the base toward their destination.

But while Tony's motives for following them to Siberia and Steve's guess about his intentions should he make it out of this made perfect sense to the Captain, there was one thing he still couldn't entirely reconcile. Not knowing Tony as he did.

"Why'd you bring in Nina?" Tony hesitated as Steve's quiet question broke the heavy silence that had characterized the base so far, his voice nearly echoing through the hall despite his carefully low tone. He turned just enough that Steve could see the glow from the eyes of his helmet. Just behind him, Steve heard the faint whine he was coming to associate with Bucky's cybernetic hand tensing. He could just imagine how his oldest friend's features had likely tightened with barely suppressed anger at the reminder of Tony's involvement in Nina's current situation; Bucky was already far too protective of Nina to react otherwise. But Steve didn't look away from Tony to spare Bucky a cautioning look or even a concerned glance. He needed to hear what Tony had to say for himself. "You had to know that wasn't going to endear you to anyone. Least of all Nadine. You know why she insisted Nina had to stay out of this."

"Yeah, I know," Tony bit back briskly, a thread of his own anger making it into his voice by way of what sounded like impatience to those who didn't know him well. "I heard it all already topside from your team's super spy. Not my smartest move, okay? There. I said it." Tony paused, turning to face Steve fully, his helmet retracting. Steve watched, silent as a wash of conflicted emotions flickered across Tony's features before he managed to lock them down behind a mask of exasperation tempered by resolve. A mask that was already beginning to crack as Tony's frustration made itself known. "It was never my intention to put her in any danger. I had contingencies. First, she was my back-up plan; I was hoping not to have to involve her at all, but obviously, things didn't go as I'd hoped. Second, Vision's instructions were to get her out of there the first sign that you weren't going to back down only for her little Inhibiting trick to change the game."

He cut himself off, then, jaw snapping shut as impatience once more threatened his barely maintained composure. When he pushed on, his voice was low and clipped but controlled. Not that it hid the almost defeated cast to it. "Ross was never supposed to know she was there. I even had T'Challa's word. I..." he faltered, his indignation at Steve's insinuation fading as a distinct wash of guilt came over his drawn features before he inhaled deeply, once more setting his jaw. "It's impossible not to be fond of the kid," he finally continued tightly, boldly meeting Steve's eye. "But we all know the only one Mama-Ghost would seriously listen to was her Mini-Ghost. And knowing what was coming if I couldn't get you to come in? Knowing what's still coming if this doesn't go the right way? I had to try, Rogers.

"And if that makes me a villain?" Tony shrugged as he trailed off, jaw tight and lips thin as he stared defiantly back at Steve. Steve inhaled deeply, unable to help how suddenly bone-tired he felt.

"You're not a villain, Tony," he said wearily, meeting Tony's eye right back. And some of the tension bled from Tony's frame, his composure again threatening to crumble even as a flicker of wistful vulnerability surfaced in his dark eyes.

But just as quickly as it appeared at Steve's reassurance it was hidden away behind one of the billionaire's characteristic—albeit more subdued than usual—cheeky grins.

"I'll let Ross know about your glowing endorsement," he quipped back. Not that it quite disguised the strain that remained in Tony's voice that belied his attempt to joke. With a clunk, his helmet was back in place. "Who knows, he might actually believe it if we bring him the Frozen Soldiers this Zemo guy's after." Easily taking the hint, Steve once more fell into step beside the armoured Avenger, tactfully ignoring the insecurity he knew Tony's acerbic tone hid.

He'd gotten his answer, at least. He wasn't quite sure if it made him feel any better, though.

The closer to their destination they got the more on edge Steve felt. Surely they should've encountered...something by now. The doctor—Zemo, Steve corrected himself—while it looked like Zemo hadn't beaten them to the base by as long as Steve had feared, the way the snow outside had already begun to obscure his tracks suggested he'd still had more than enough time to possibly wake at least one or two of the Five.

Which meant there was every chance there was a Soldier waiting for them, ready to fight.

Yet, no ambush had been sprung. It preyed on Steve even as they passed through what appeared to be a crude medical centre—complete with a large barred and glassed-off portion dominating the centre of the room while a Spartan row of cots lined the far wall, barely visible through the spectacularly cracked panes of safety glass.

Steve had a feeling they were looking at the part of the facility that had seen the creation of the Five Winter Soldiers they were there to stop. He could easily imagine the Five being systematically 'tested' against Bucky in the large caged area as they passed it, absently wondering if Bucky had been responsible for the damaged panes...in one way or another.

And judging by the guarded way his best friend was pointedly not looking to the enclosed space? It seemed probable that Steve wasn't wrong.

Thankfully, their path saw them crossing the short length of the room, and quickly enough they had reached the final corridor before the chamber that held the base's cryogentic facilities.

Sure enough, they turned the final corner to see the dark, seemingly boundless chamber yawning before them. Even the light from the corridor barely penetrated the cold, echoing black that shrouded the room.

"I've got heat signatures," Tony broke in, then, his voice sounding nearly tinny before being swallowed by the emptiness before them as he stepped into the chamber.

"How many," Steve was immediately asking, falling immediately into combat mode. Only for Tony to hesitate before answering.

"Uh...one."

That wasn't right. And the unease pooling in Steve's gut seemed to solidify into a heavy, leaden lump.

Even if the Five were still in their cryo tubes, Tony should've been picking up...more.

Something was very, very wrong.

And then the lights came on.

Six sickly, golden-yellow lights suddenly glowed around the room, illuminating five occupied cryotubes and one empty one, all of them encircling a sunken pit that held a minimally, if dramatically, lit chair and correspondingly ominous associated machinery and tech in the centre of the massive, high-ceilinged chamber.

The Memory Modification equipment Bucky had alluded to?

Steve's chest clenched painfully.

When nothing moved, Steve stepped further into the chamber, each step cautious and measured as he took stock of their surroundings.

The whole place felt...empty.

Yet, he couldn't fight the way his skin crawled; they were being watched.

The uneasy feeling didn't alleviate in the slightest as nothing in the chamber moved beyond the gaseous vapours swirling and misting within the cryotubes and from discharge ducts in the cryogenic units themselves. If anything, it got worse.

Especially as a disembodied voice spoke up, echoing unnervingly around the cavernous space. Steve hesitated, eyes darting around the room for some sign of whomever had spoken.

"If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep." And the uneasy lump churning in Steve's gut hardened, growing cold and sharp with dread as they approached the closest tube.

The Soldier inside was unmistakably dead.

The bullet hole in his forehead and the trickle of blood between his brows made that painfully clear.

"Did you really think I wanted more of you?" the voice asked.

"What the hell?" Bucky muttered from just behind Steve, audibly rattled. It was a feeling Steve could easily sympathize with; he was feeling pretty unnerved himself.

This didn't make any sense.

As the three of them crossed deeper into the chamber, drawing even with the chair and its attached sprawl of equipment in the centre, it became very clear that each of the Five had suffered the same fate as the first. A single gunshot wound to the head. No chances. No mercy. They hadn't even been awake. Just clean, simple...

Executions.

And their executioner wasn't finished speaking.

"I'm grateful to them, though," Zemo added conversationally, his voice coming out of the seemingly infinite dark that enclosed the massive room in lieu of the walls they couldn't see. "They brought you here." And another light came on. At once, Steve's head snapped around, and behind him, he could hear the faint whirr of Tony's suit and rustle of Bucky's jacket as they did the same.

Past the tubes, on the far side of the chamber, a single dim light illuminated Zemo's face. On instinct, Steve's shield flew. And almost the instant it left his hand, he knew what was going to happen. With a dull, metallic clang, it ricocheted off the heavily reinforced partition that protected the command room of what was slowly being revealed as a staging area for the missiles the base had housed many, many years before it had been converted into The Winter Soldier Facility.

"Please, Captain," Zemo chided with an air of impatient condescension. Steve bristled. "The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets." Sparing a brief glance at Bucky, they began circling the sunken portion of the chamber, Steve and Tony going right while Bucky went left...which set him to circle right past the single empty cryo tube.

His tube, Steve realized. If he hadn't felt ill before, he certainly did now.

But he pushed the realization forcefully aside.

"I'm betting I could beat that," Tony was calling confidently back even as Steve mentally shook his thoughts back to where they needed to be. He needed to stay focused.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark," Zemo said calmly. Too calmly, Steve thought. "Given time. But then you'd never know why you came." Steve fought back another wave of unease, the sense that something was horribly wrong only growing stronger still.

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Steve asked, not entirely able to keep the accusation from his voice as he came to a stop in front of the tiny window separating them from Zemo. Or his disbelief. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Zemo just boldly studied Steve back, his features giving away very little as he stepped closer to the thick glass himself.

This still felt inarguably like a trap. But how, Steve couldn't figure out. The Five were dead. What could Zemo possibly be planning to throw at them? What on Earth was he hoping to accomplish? A man didn't go to the lengths he had without reason. The question was, what was it?

And what was his endgame?

For a moment, he wished Nadine hadn't split off from them; thanks to her training she had the uncanny ability to decipher people and their motives from the most minute of cues that Steve simply couldn't match. Her presence would've certainly given them an edge in that regard.

He just had to hope she made her appearance soon.

Or that she was in position to have their backs when this whole situation inevitably went sideways.

As Zemo answered the question without truly answering it, taunting them with the fact that they had no idea what his motives were—even going so far as to mock Steve with a non sequitur about flaws and the colour of his eyes—Steve could feel the beginnings of a suspicion forming as he silently ran over what Tony had related about the man in his head against what he was saying.

"You're Sokovian," he finally said as Zemo smiled almost smugly to himself, "is that what this is about?" Zemo slowly shook his head, his mocking expression turning almost indulgent as it was patronizing.

Not that Steve entirely missed the shadow of rage that flickered behind the former dark operative's eyes as Zemo deflected. "Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No." And the shadow grew, Zemo's affected enjoyment in taunting them melting away into a hard, resolved expression that Steve would recognize anywhere. This was a man bent on vengeance. "I'm here because I made a promise." And as an ache began to grow in his gut, Steve understood.

"You lost someone." It wasn't a question. Not really. Yet when Zemo answered anyway, his voice soft and almost gentle.

But there was no missing the anguish behind his collected tone. Nor the blame.

It was written clearly in his eyes.

"I lost everyone."

Steve couldn't find the words to respond. What could he possibly say to that? Nothing. And Zemo knew it. "And so will you," the Sokovian murmured, the words a dark promise.

One that Steve suddenly didn't doubt he was perfectly capable of carrying out.

Grimly satisfied that he'd made his point, Zemo looked down. Unfortunately, the thick partition between them hid what it was he was doing from Steve. Only for a faint but distinct clacking sound to make its way over the loudspeaker even as the sound of the antiquated computer Steve had passed coming to life sounded behind him. The monitor flickered, the picture grainy but clearly displaying what looked like a date in Russian.

Though severely tempted not to give in, to ignore whatever game Zemo was playing, Steve knew he didn't have a choice. Not really.

He had a feeling that whatever Zemo had planned was going to play out whether he cooperated or not. So he would indulge him. For now.

So he turned, approaching the computer station as the date was replaced by some sort of surveillance footage. "An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again," Zemo murmured as Steve studied the deserted bit of road, trying to place it. But it was completely unfamiliar to him. Steve was at a complete loss over why Zemo believed this particular video so important. Only to look up sharply as Zemo continued: "but one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever."

The dread in his gut only grew worse as Steve reluctantly looked back to the screen. But he couldn't help himself. He couldn't fight the need, the compulsion to know. Tony stepped forward himself, his helmet retracting as he spared Zemo guarded look.

Only to stiffen as he peered over at what held Steve's attention, his focus sharpening on the screen and the poor-quality video playing on it. He snapped a demanding look to the Sokovian, but was unable to keep his attention away from the screen, his gaze almost immediately dropping back to the black and white video.

And Steve knew he'd recognized whatever this was before the words saying as much even left Tony's mouth.

"I know that road..." Steve couldn't breathe, the weight of a building suddenly sitting on his chest at the apprehension and disbelief suddenly clear in Tony's voice. Disbelief that was quickly overcome by panic and alarm as he looked down to the partially visible tape and its label where it was contained just below the monitor. Tony looked sharply back up to Zemo once more. "What is this?" Steve looked to the Sokovian himself, though he wasn't nearly as desperate for an answer as Tony.

He was dreading the answer too much.

Zemo just stared darkly back, his pitiless features sharply defined in light and shadow.

Each second of the video that played seemed to drag on for an eternity, only the faint movement of the trees and the light on the gravel road and the timestamp ticking from 7:00 to 7:01 as another minute went by betraying that time was passing at all. Only for the illusion to shatter as the wash of headlights illuminated the road.

A split-second before a car slammed headlong into the tree bracketing the left-hand frame of the screen, the front end crumpling like paper with a dimly audible crunch of metal.

As smoke and steam began to waft out from the mangled hood, another beam of light appeared on the road, heralding the appearance of another vehicle. A motorcycle that came to a stop behind the wrecked car with a muffled growl. The smooth, unhurried movements of its rider as they dismounted and approached the car betrayed easily that what they were watching was no accident. Especially as they went directly for the car's trunk.

A sudden, sick feeling bloomed in Steve's gut.

One that only intensified at the glint of metal betraying the identity of the motorcycle's owner.

And he knew. Even before Howard staggered out the driver's side door, his legs giving out beneath him before he'd even managed to take a full step, Steve suddenly knew without a doubt what he was about to see.

How had he been so blind?

How had he been so wilfully blind?

It felt like iron bars had clamped tight around his chest, wrenching tighter than any vice, pressing his heart up into his throat, threatening to strangle him even as the churning in his gut intensified.

Of course it had been Bucky...

How had he not seen it?

But a cruel, remorseless little voice in the back of his mind assured him that he had. Perhaps not right away. Certainly not that day when Zola had revealed with all the smug vindication a human mind trapped within a computer could manage that Howard's death had been no accident; he'd simply been too overwhelmed with the sheer scope of everything else that had been thrown at them and the wider, more immediately threatening implications of those revelations—especially as he hadn't known at that point precisely who the Winter Soldier was. Maybe not even after he and Sam had started digging into Bucky's history as the Winter Soldier, or even once Nadine had added her significant research into the mix. But somewhere along the line...a part of him had started to wonder...

He felt numb as he watched Tony, the horrified captivation on his friend's face only feeding the physical ache building within him. It felt like he was watching Tony unravelling before his very eyes as the remorseless tape continued to play.

And the numbness began to fade into sorrow and regret more potent than Steve had ever felt as he saw Bucky's head lift, his face hard and utterly devoid of emotion as he stared straight ahead, refusing to look to Steve and Tony.

Save for the tormented guilt that was barely perceptible behind the guarded look in Bucky's eyes.

He only faltered as Howard said his name in the video.

Steve hadn't wanted to believe it. He hadn't even wanted to acknowledge that it was possible.

But he couldn't deny it now. Not when he was watching it happen with his own eyes.

Bucky had killed Howard and his wife.

The Winter Soldier had murdered Tony's parents.

His friend.

Steve could almost swear he felt something deep in his chest crack from the anguish of the epiphany.

And an additional shard of horror was suddenly digging into his gut as another realization struck him; it was Seoul all over again...

Only this time, Steve was the one in on the secret, powerless to stop it as it came out in the most brutal, damaging—damning way possible.

He was powerless to ease the pain crippling his friend as he watched his parents' murders, or to stop the rage he could feel beginning to grow in the man standing next to him.

He was powerless to comfort his other friend as he was being forced to relieve one of the darkest acts he'd been forced to commit, one that haunted him still.

And he was powerless to do anything but watch as a third friend was brutally murdered, the fact that it had happened over twenty years before doing nothing but making the heartache worse.

It was all over in a matter of moments. Barely more than a minute had passed, the tape's timestamp only just reaching 7:02 as the video ended with a muted gunshot, the scene disappearing in a burst of static and snow before going dark.

The silence that descended was crushing.

Steve looked back to Tony.

He had never seen him look so...broken.

So lost.

Any hope of finding something to say died in his throat. If Steve had thought he had nothing to say in the face of Zemo's grief, what could he possible say to his friend? He could do nothing but stand there, helpless to even try and do...anything to bring Tony back from the dark place the video had hurtled him into.

It ripped at Steve, the tearing deep into his very soul.

But it wasn't enough to keep him from reacting on instinct when Tony lunged at Bucky, hooking a restraining grip on his arm before Tony had barely done more than jerk around in Bucky's direction.

Not that Tony exactly fought back.

The armoured Avenger turned, his mind racing behind shuttered eyes before he looked up to Steve. Steve nearly broke himself at the utter devastation written in every line of Tony's face.

And at the pure rage and accusation in his deceptively calm voice.

"Did you know?" He almost couldn't hear the question, it was asked so quietly. But Steve didn't need to hear it. He could see it. He could feel it.

But he forced himself to levelly meet Tony's eye, steeling himself as he carefully measured his answer. Now wasn't the time to give into the maelstrom of grief and anguish tearing through his own chest at the bombshell Zemo had dropped on them. He needed to deescalate this. Fast.

Or people—his friends—were going to die...

Everything else had to wait.

This was so much worse than a handful of Winter Soldiers...

...where in the hell was Nadine...

"I didn't know it was him," Steve finally said cautiously.

But Tony's face twisted, contorting with fury as he all but snarled, jerking against the tight hold Steve had on his arm. "Don't bullshit me, Rogers." It took every ounce of self-discipline Steve had not to flinch as Tony's voice grew cold, going deadly quiet. "Did. You. Know?" The moment stretched, the physical ache of his grief and helplessness gripping him only intensifying as Steve fought to fortify himself enough to answer.

There was only one answer he could give.

It simply didn't matter that he'd only finally put the pieces together as the video started playing. That he'd only just admitted to himself that he'd known. Because on some level, he had known. He knew he had. He just hadn't been able to see it. Or just as likely, he simply hadn't wanted to see it.

Because it hurt.

So he set his jaw, knowing deep in his gut that he was about to shatter the relationship he'd formed with Howard's son.

Possibly beyond any hope of repair.

But neither could he lie to Tony. He just couldn't.

And he answered.

"Yes."

Tony wrenched his arm free, jerking out of Steve's hold as he stared at him with a wild-eyed look of complete and utter betrayal.

He was looking at Steve like he didn't even know him.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

Only far, far worse.

As Tony's gaze dropped, visibly struggling to process the storm of emotions suddenly threatening to tear him apart from the inside, Steve finally understood with excruciating clarity precisely what Zemo had meant.

He'd torn the Avengers apart more thoroughly than Ross and the Accords ever could have.

Steve realized a split-second before Tony struck what was about to happen.

But it was already too late.

With a final, resounding crack, the back of Tony's armoured fist connected with Steve's jaw, knocking him bodily to the ground.

Iron Man attacked.

And there was no turning back.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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