Steve and Bucky were on the run.

The look on Tony's face as he stared Bucky down in those final seconds at the hospital was burned into Barnes' memory like a white-hot brand, but he didn't try to clear away the searing heat of that pain. He welcomed it, he deserved it, he wanted the image to be the last thing he saw at the end of his life so that he could carry his guilt to hell just as he deserved.

Bucky killed you and he would never forgive himself. It didn't matter that he acted as the Soldier; he took you from Tony mere hours after the happiest moment in your lives, and Bucky would have gladly allowed him to end it all, but Steve wouldn't have it. He had to drag his friend away from the hospital when Tony advanced on them, fully covered in a suit and repulsors fully charged to strike.

Since that moment, Bucky wouldn't know another second alone; Steve knew better than to let the man out of his sight. Hydra made sure that their soldiers had several methods for ending their own lives when cornered, effective and efficient, and the look in Bucky's eyes told Steve that he had played the options over and over in his mind since they took their first step into hiding.

The two men found themselves in a dark corner of the city, holed up in a train car for the night while they planned what their next move would be. The light of day would come soon enough, and the city that never slept would become even more active as the workday began. They wouldn't be able to hide here for long, and they both knew it.

"Steve, just go home," Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes in frustration. He toyed with the idea that maybe if he pushed his thumbs into them with enough force, he could blind himself from the picture of your face haunting him. He even gave it a little try just for some light self-torture. "I've run before, you haven't."

"Actually, I have."

"Not like me, ya haven't," he scoffed. "I go underground, Steve. I disappear. You know that better than pretty much anyone. If I don't do that now, anywhere I go makes me an easy target for Tony, and you know what?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm tempted to just stand in the middle of Central Park and let him blast me into oblivion. What's the point in hiding? I fucking did this, so I should face the consequences."

"Buck," Steve argued, "we're going to figure this out. Once things settle down a little, we'll talk to him. He knows that it wasn't really you. Deep down, he knows."

Bucky took a breath and held it, trying his best to hold back the wave of tears that threatened to spill, trying to swallow away the lump in his throat that choked him. When he failed miserably, he pushed his body back to the grime of the wall, thumping his head loudly against it until the headache came. "I did this, Steve, get it through your goddamn thick skull. I don't want to live with this, but you won't let me die."

"No, I won't. This isn't the end, we can work through-"

"No, Steve!" he snapped, looking at him with eyes filled with fire and rage. "There's nothing to work through, alright? She's dead. (Y/N) is dead. I killed her and I don't want to live with this. Do you even understand the pain I'm in? I felt her die. My chest has a gaping hole in it where my heart used to be...the heart she helped me find again. I can't breathe. Half of me is gone, Steve, and she's not coming back. We can talk about it until we're blue in the face but it won't change a damn thing. It won't change the fact that the next time I stand face-to-face with Stark, I'm not going to run away, and I'm not going to fight back. So please, go home, Steve. You should start forgetting me now because this is one fight that you ain't gonna win."

~~~

When Tony walked back into the hospital, the first face he saw was Nat's, and she was pissed unlike anything else he had seen from her before. She wasn't about to let him pass to get to your room until she had her chance at him, and he steeled his nerves and his bravery as best as he could with each step that she took closer. There weren't many people in the world who could actually scare him like Nat could, other than maybe you.

"Romanoff."

"Tony, this is beyond anything I would've expected from you," she said under her breath, "I cannot believe what you're doing, and that they're okay with it."

"Nat, I know that I can say this to you and that we'll be okay, because we've known each other for a long time, and we're soulmates," he paused with a heavy sigh, "but I'm gonna need you to back the fuck off. I'm gonna need you to not say a word to anyone and let me either make this work or screw this up on my own. You said this wasn't my choice to make, well guess what? I made it, and I don't care who likes it and who doesn't."

With a mouth agape in utter shock, she didn't make any attempt to move out of his way, so he pushed past, taking care to not touch her and incite her rage through reflexes. He had been in your room once already, and the sight of you was one that he didn't want to see again, but it had to happen. He cleared his mind of that first view when the nurses brought him to you right after he arrived there, trying to forget the terror that came with it so that he could replace it with this new picture that he could more readily accept.

"Did it work?"

"We won't know until she wakes up," Stephen answered flatly. "I can only do so much, but I think that together we've locked her memories of Barnes away where her mind will not attempt to reach."

"Maximoff?" Tony urged, watching her intently.

"I've blocked the connection, as you've asked. It should hold, so long as she doesn't receive memories of him and so long as they don't meet. When I blocked the connection for Bucky, it held until they spoke, and I had to work to maintain it. I'm fighting against nature...against fate. There can't be any contact for this to work the way you want it to."

"Don't worry," Tony answered flatly, "he'll never lay eyes on her again so long as I'm alive." He moved to sit at your side, taking your hand in his while he waited for you to wake up.

Your wound made by the bullet from Bucky's gun ran through your chest only a mere inch from your heart; the Soldier had spared you but there was no way it was by his own doing because you were much to close for him to have simply missed. You were still asleep under the effects of the anesthetic, but you were beginning to show signs that you could wake at any moment. After close to another hour, your hand curled around Tony's purposefully; he stood quickly with wide, anxious eyes, watching for yours to finally look back.

"T-tony?"

"Hey, sweetheart," he sighed in relief, "hey, I'm right here. You're okay, I'm here."

"What happened?"

He looked quickly across the room to where Stephen and Wanda were sitting and conversing, giving each of them a wordless warning to go along with anything he said to you. "You hit your head pretty hard. We got called out to an urgent mission before we could leave for our trip, and it didn't end like we hoped. When the bullet hit and you fell back, your head bounced off the pavement. Your memory is probably a little fuzzy."

"Hmm, yeah, that's an understatement," you smiled weakly.

Tony glanced once again to the other two, blinking away both the guilt he was suddenly feeling for his actions, and the tears that began to pool when he realized that this could be the biggest mistake he had ever made and that he could lose you in the process. But he couldn't turn back now, because if this worked it would mean that he could keep you safe and that was all that mattered, whether you were together or not. You could leave him because of this, and that would never change; he would always protect you. "(Y/N), do you remember anything since the wedding?"

"We got married?"

"Wait...what?" he asked, terrified. "Um, yeah...yesterday. Do you really not remember that?"

"Don't you think you should at least ask me out first?"

"Oh my god," Tony gasped, looking to Stephen with a fear like the man had never seen from his friend before. Had the sorcerer promised one thing and delivered another? How much of your brain did he actually fuck around with? The immediate regret of what he had done washed over him, and he had never in his life felt so much guilt and such a crushing panic. "Honey, please tell me that you're just messing with me."

You looked at him as blankly as you could muster, turning to see the other two standing on the far side of your hospital room looking just as shocked as he was, "Tony? Who are they?"

"Oh. My. God, Strange!" he snapped, standing to take on the man, only to be quickly halted with a gentle grab of your hand to stop him. The poor guy was about to have a stroke and you had to let him off the hook.

"Honey, I'm joking."

"Oh...oh, shit, you did not just do that," he said with a shake of his head and no sign of amusement, "that's cold, (Y/N)."

"I know, I'm sorry. But why were you about to go after Stephen?"

"Um...well..." he stammered.

"Wanda and I were trying to help you regain the memory that we knew could be lost," Strange hurried to interject, "and I'm sure he was worried that we had only made it worse."

"Exactly, that's it," Tony readily agreed with a sharp snap of his fingers. "Let's not make it worse."

You smiled gently and nodded in full agreement, the hazy ache in your mind exacerbated by even the slightest movement. With a brief wave of resolve, you pushed up on your elbows to change position, turning just enough to see the monitors that were filling the room with the incessant and ridiculous beeping tones about to drive you mad. A quick inventory of your memories proved that yes, you mostly remembered your wedding to the man at your side, you remembered your reception, or at least a good part of it...and then it just went dark. Something hazy poked at the recesses of your injured mind, but you couldn't lock the images down. There was a voice behind them that you didn't recognize, leaving you to hope that whatever and whoever it was, it would all come back soon because this feeling was terribly unnerving. You couldn't shake the heavy worry that you were forgetting something beyond just the mission that put you here.

You couldn't shake away the voice in your mind, desperately screaming for you to listen.