[ Another wince before recovering. He studies Sam's features, really considering the offer for a long moment before asking his question, tone softer now. ]
[ Sam lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, some of the tension easing out of him. ]
Riley. He was my wingman, my best friend. We were in the Air Force together, got our wings together. Flew damn near every mission together, until someone knocked his dumb ass out of the sky.
[ Some of the tension releases from his own shoulders, though his expression remains solemn. ]
I'm sorry. [ Even genuine as they are, the words can't mean much now. Losing someone right at your side - the closest he can relate to is Anakin, the sudden loss to their brood like a limb severed. But that depth of pain had been manufactured, a side effect of the symbiote's influence instead of a bond formed over years of trust. ]
[ It's a sentiment that Sam's heard thousands of times, and one he's had to grow comfortable with from both being in and leading support groups. He's run the gamut of reactions to it, but - now it does mean something, when it's genuine. ]
Thank you. [ He ducks his head for a moment, thinking quietly, then he looks back over with a smile. ] The offer doesn't have an expiration date. You ever wanna ask me anything, any time, you can. I can promise you'll always get an honest answer.
[ A nod, and another pause as he mulls something over: chaotic glimpses of thoughts that had slipped through the cracks of about four different telepathic conversations going on at the same time yesterday. It'd been from Clint, not Sam, but before Steve approaches him again maybe he'd better get some things straight.
His eyes remain fixed on Sam's features, the smile he can't return this time. ]
Barton made it sound like things went south with the your team pretty recently. [ When they last spoke Sam had also mentioned things were chaotic back home, the details vague. Clint's conversation with Kate felt more dire than that. ] What happened?
[ There's a quiet huff and a smile, a little too dry to be amused. Of course that's the first place Steve'd go. ] That, uh. It's a little bit of a long answer, so bear with me. [ But he's gonna answer it, of course he is. He'd promised. ]
They wanted us to have oversight. Not a bad idea, you know, someone's gotta call the shots, but the shit they wanted us to sign, to agree to - we didn't act without their say-so, we went where ever they told us to, no questions. It was Hydra and SHIELD all over again, with just who was making the request.
[ From people who thought nuking all of New York City was a viable option back when the Chitauri attacked, with guys heading the task force who talked about people as though they were weapons and hunted them down the same, who laughed at the idea of everyone having rights. ]
We didn't sign. There was a threat, and they didn't listen. And yeah, it was personal, but after everything you'd think they'd have a little bit of respect for- [ He cuts off, because there's a whole lot of shit wrapped up there that he doesn't want to get into, and he pulls in a breath and lets it out. ] We went anyway, and they sent the half of our team that had signed to stop us, to bring us in. We didn't go peaceful.
[ There's a trickle of guilt regret determination that he pushes aside by choosing not to go into specifics about anything that'd happened at the airport. ] You tried to get us all out, but it wasn't happening. You and Barnes were our best chance, so I told you to keep going, that the rest of us weren't gonna make it out of there. We didn't, and then we got to find out what it meant that the shit they wanted us to sign didn't specify what would happen to anyone who went against their orders.
[ Sam's done a reasonable job of keeping his emotions to himself so far, aside from obvious difficulty talking about it and the brief traces from before, but it's everything after this that gets to him. He hasn't sorted out pretty much any of his feelings around it, and he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to think about Stark promising that he was going to go as a friend and looking at what he'd done to Steve and Bucky afterward, knowing that Sam was the one who sent him there; or hushed conversations with Clint while Wanda was practically catatonic and Scott had had no idea what he was getting into; the betrayal in Clint's eyes after Stark tossed out the secret Clint had spent years keeping to protect his family.
But most importantly, he doesn't want to tell Steve what'd happened, because he doesn't want to say anything remotely resembling the words I was in prison. And for maybe the first time since he'd first gotten here, he cracks. The memories he can keep to himself, but the emotions he can't. There's a swirl of bitterness, a bone-deep resignation and a simmering undercurrent of anger that pour out from him as he sags back against the desk, more focused on taking a moment to get his shit together than saying anything else. ]
[ He lets his eyes lower again, mouth forming a thin line. This is a conversation he wants to have with words, and so his mental walls remain firm, for both his own and for Sam's sake. What slips from Sam at the end is like the press of weight against a limb that's starting to go numb: Steve knows something is there within reach, something heavy, but the details can't be defined on their own.
From his end, the walls keep in the swirling hum of his own thoughts, tempers the sharper edges of his reactions and a self-flagellating need to know more (it was personal) before he can work through the same process as last time: this isn't his guilt to press upon Sam or anyone else. He doesn't hold any claim. This is their past more than his future (what he rarely shares is his certainty that there's no seeing this same future for him).
Takes more will power than he'd like to admit not to push for that last answer, the piece of the puzzle that Sam's held back twice now.
Silence holds them for a minute, Steve using the time to try to find his next words. A crease deepens at his brow. ]
I wanna see the others, if you'd show me sometime. [ With the way things have been going there's always a chance that more of Sam's team might wake up in the station. Might be better for everyone if he could put names to faces.
Thank you. [ For not pressing for more, and for keeping his shields up when Sam couldn't. He appreciates it more than the quiet words can say, but he just clears his throat and looks back up. ] It's not - we got somewhere safe. Just temporary, while we tried to figure things out.
[ Sam straightens up a little, pulling his composure back piece by piece. He can't quite regain the ease he usually has - doesn't even try, really, because faking it feels too much like hiding or lying and he doesn't want to do either with Steve - but a casual observer wouldn't notice that he'd fractured a bit just a few moments ago. ]
Yeah, man, of course. You want just the half of us, or everyone? I got no problem doing both, but, uh. Might not be able to keep my opinions to myself.
[ A nod. Sam had said something like that before. That he'd been figuring things out, trying to keep everyone safe. One day he'll hear the rest, but for now it's good enough to know - and believe that Sam and his people all make it out in one piece.
But he can't quite banish the way his eyebrows have knit together, and though he doesn't know Sam all that well yet, it's clear enough that the guy's been through something that hit him hard. ]
Gimme everyone. I can sort out the rest. [ Though he wouldn't necessarily set aside Sam's bias. Not if there's good reason for it. ]
[ When that crease at Steve's brow doesn't go away, Sam can't help but reach out through their mental link. It's not something he's ready to talk about, but at the moment he's grateful for the connection so he can use it to say what he can't put into words. To leave the impression of that, a wordless promise that he'll tell Steve about it when he can.
Then he pulls back, putting up his shields enough to do his best to just let the images through, even if he knows it's gonna be impossible to separate them completely. ]
All right, yeah. You already know Clint, so-
Wanda Maximoff. [ The image of her is tinged with affection and the scent of nail polish as she waggles her freshly painted black nails at him, laughing. ] Scott Lang. [ A flash of exasperated amusement accompanies Scott's wide smile and bright eyes.] Natasha Romanoff. [ Her coy smirk is the first thing he thinks of, the gleam in her eyes when she's trying not to be amused by something he said. ] Tony Stark. [ And here he tries so damn hard, thinks of Tony babbling excitedly over his wings, but the image skips and there's a flicker of the last time he saw Tony from behind the glass wall of a cell. Sam lets it go just as quiet, resentful weariness starts to seep in, buries it under a sea of clouds and focuses on that for a moment before he gets back on track. ]
T'Challa. I dunno if he really counts, we just met him, but- [ There's a shrug, and the sense that the man Sam pictures came through for them. ] James Rhodes. [ He does better at holding back his guilt, but there's still a flash of falling before he focuses on an image of the way James would smirk whenever he gossiped about Tony. ] Vision. [ Obviously not human, but though there's a conflicted sense coming from Sam, there's also the impression that it doesn't have much to do with that. ]
[ He can't help it - when the images start to flow he closes his eyes, to better see and commit the faces to memory along with their names. Keeps quiet again, for the most part, his eyebrows raised just a bit - and a frown when Sam reaches Stark in the middle. His lips part but he holds his tongue until the slideshow is over, his eyes opening again to stare back at Sam. ]
I, uh, know a Stark. [ A beat. ] I don't know know him, but - [ That's a name he recognizes. And that flicker of memory, the glass wall from a first person view, the cells behind the guy's shoulder. His mouth shuts, jaw tight. He saw something there that wasn't meant for him. ]
I'm sorry. [ Says it now, though not for the guilt that threatened earlier. Another pause, and he shakes his head, glancing down. ] You oughta be able to trust the folks on your team.
Howard, right? That was Tony's dad. [ And one of Steve's friends, if not now then in the near future - Steve's future - but all Sam knows about those days of Steve's life is what Steve'd told him and what Tony occasionally rambled about.
It's easier to take an apology for that than it would be for any kind of guilt, because Sam's sorry about that, too. And it's somehow easier to explain the memory he hadn't meant to put out there, maybe because it is already out there. ] I thought I still could. Even with... everything, I still did. He came wanting some information that no one else was getting out of me, said he believed us and promised he wouldn't tell anyone and he'd use it as a friend. I dunno if he played me or keeping his word didn't mean much when it came down to it, but- [ He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders as if he's trying to shrug it off. ] Guess they'd probably say the same thing about us.
[ He looks up, shooting Steve a small smile. ] Thanks, man. For - for listening, for giving me a chance.
[ Howard Stark's son a superhero. The portrait from Sam's head showed a guy that looked to be in his forties or fifties.
He doesn't bother trying to spend much time processing that part. ]
For what it's worth, I would've made the same call. [ Trusting a teammate and a friend. Can't fault him for that decision, and Sam shouldn't fault himself for it. He meets the other man's gaze, offering his own smile, faint and lopsided and warm. ]
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What was your friend's name?
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Riley. He was my wingman, my best friend. We were in the Air Force together, got our wings together. Flew damn near every mission together, until someone knocked his dumb ass out of the sky.
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I'm sorry. [ Even genuine as they are, the words can't mean much now. Losing someone right at your side - the closest he can relate to is Anakin, the sudden loss to their brood like a limb severed. But that depth of pain had been manufactured, a side effect of the symbiote's influence instead of a bond formed over years of trust. ]
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Thank you. [ He ducks his head for a moment, thinking quietly, then he looks back over with a smile. ] The offer doesn't have an expiration date. You ever wanna ask me anything, any time, you can. I can promise you'll always get an honest answer.
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His eyes remain fixed on Sam's features, the smile he can't return this time. ]
Barton made it sound like things went south with the your team pretty recently. [ When they last spoke Sam had also mentioned things were chaotic back home, the details vague. Clint's conversation with Kate felt more dire than that. ] What happened?
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They wanted us to have oversight. Not a bad idea, you know, someone's gotta call the shots, but the shit they wanted us to sign, to agree to - we didn't act without their say-so, we went where ever they told us to, no questions. It was Hydra and SHIELD all over again, with just who was making the request.
[ From people who thought nuking all of New York City was a viable option back when the Chitauri attacked, with guys heading the task force who talked about people as though they were weapons and hunted them down the same, who laughed at the idea of everyone having rights. ]
We didn't sign. There was a threat, and they didn't listen. And yeah, it was personal, but after everything you'd think they'd have a little bit of respect for- [ He cuts off, because there's a whole lot of shit wrapped up there that he doesn't want to get into, and he pulls in a breath and lets it out. ] We went anyway, and they sent the half of our team that had signed to stop us, to bring us in. We didn't go peaceful.
[ There's a trickle of guilt regret determination that he pushes aside by choosing not to go into specifics about anything that'd happened at the airport. ] You tried to get us all out, but it wasn't happening. You and Barnes were our best chance, so I told you to keep going, that the rest of us weren't gonna make it out of there. We didn't, and then we got to find out what it meant that the shit they wanted us to sign didn't specify what would happen to anyone who went against their orders.
[ Sam's done a reasonable job of keeping his emotions to himself so far, aside from obvious difficulty talking about it and the brief traces from before, but it's everything after this that gets to him. He hasn't sorted out pretty much any of his feelings around it, and he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to think about Stark promising that he was going to go as a friend and looking at what he'd done to Steve and Bucky afterward, knowing that Sam was the one who sent him there; or hushed conversations with Clint while Wanda was practically catatonic and Scott had had no idea what he was getting into; the betrayal in Clint's eyes after Stark tossed out the secret Clint had spent years keeping to protect his family.
But most importantly, he doesn't want to tell Steve what'd happened, because he doesn't want to say anything remotely resembling the words I was in prison. And for maybe the first time since he'd first gotten here, he cracks. The memories he can keep to himself, but the emotions he can't. There's a swirl of bitterness, a bone-deep resignation and a simmering undercurrent of anger that pour out from him as he sags back against the desk, more focused on taking a moment to get his shit together than saying anything else. ]
no subject
From his end, the walls keep in the swirling hum of his own thoughts, tempers the sharper edges of his reactions and a self-flagellating need to know more (it was personal) before he can work through the same process as last time: this isn't his guilt to press upon Sam or anyone else. He doesn't hold any claim. This is their past more than his future (what he rarely shares is his certainty that there's no seeing this same future for him).
Takes more will power than he'd like to admit not to push for that last answer, the piece of the puzzle that Sam's held back twice now.
Silence holds them for a minute, Steve using the time to try to find his next words. A crease deepens at his brow. ]
I wanna see the others, if you'd show me sometime. [ With the way things have been going there's always a chance that more of Sam's team might wake up in the station. Might be better for everyone if he could put names to faces.
He owes them at least that much. ]
no subject
[ Sam straightens up a little, pulling his composure back piece by piece. He can't quite regain the ease he usually has - doesn't even try, really, because faking it feels too much like hiding or lying and he doesn't want to do either with Steve - but a casual observer wouldn't notice that he'd fractured a bit just a few moments ago. ]
Yeah, man, of course. You want just the half of us, or everyone? I got no problem doing both, but, uh. Might not be able to keep my opinions to myself.
no subject
But he can't quite banish the way his eyebrows have knit together, and though he doesn't know Sam all that well yet, it's clear enough that the guy's been through something that hit him hard. ]
Gimme everyone. I can sort out the rest. [ Though he wouldn't necessarily set aside Sam's bias. Not if there's good reason for it. ]
no subject
Then he pulls back, putting up his shields enough to do his best to just let the images through, even if he knows it's gonna be impossible to separate them completely. ]
All right, yeah. You already know Clint, so-
Wanda Maximoff. [ The image of her is tinged with affection and the scent of nail polish as she waggles her freshly painted black nails at him, laughing. ] Scott Lang. [ A flash of exasperated amusement accompanies Scott's wide smile and bright eyes.] Natasha Romanoff. [ Her coy smirk is the first thing he thinks of, the gleam in her eyes when she's trying not to be amused by something he said. ] Tony Stark. [ And here he tries so damn hard, thinks of Tony babbling excitedly over his wings, but the image skips and there's a flicker of the last time he saw Tony from behind the glass wall of a cell. Sam lets it go just as quiet, resentful weariness starts to seep in, buries it under a sea of clouds and focuses on that for a moment before he gets back on track. ]
T'Challa. I dunno if he really counts, we just met him, but- [ There's a shrug, and the sense that the man Sam pictures came through for them. ] James Rhodes. [ He does better at holding back his guilt, but there's still a flash of falling before he focuses on an image of the way James would smirk whenever he gossiped about Tony. ] Vision. [ Obviously not human, but though there's a conflicted sense coming from Sam, there's also the impression that it doesn't have much to do with that. ]
no subject
I, uh, know a Stark. [ A beat. ] I don't know know him, but - [ That's a name he recognizes. And that flicker of memory, the glass wall from a first person view, the cells behind the guy's shoulder. His mouth shuts, jaw tight. He saw something there that wasn't meant for him. ]
I'm sorry. [ Says it now, though not for the guilt that threatened earlier. Another pause, and he shakes his head, glancing down. ] You oughta be able to trust the folks on your team.
[ That's what he's sorry for. ]
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It's easier to take an apology for that than it would be for any kind of guilt, because Sam's sorry about that, too. And it's somehow easier to explain the memory he hadn't meant to put out there, maybe because it is already out there. ] I thought I still could. Even with... everything, I still did. He came wanting some information that no one else was getting out of me, said he believed us and promised he wouldn't tell anyone and he'd use it as a friend. I dunno if he played me or keeping his word didn't mean much when it came down to it, but- [ He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders as if he's trying to shrug it off. ] Guess they'd probably say the same thing about us.
[ He looks up, shooting Steve a small smile. ] Thanks, man. For - for listening, for giving me a chance.
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He doesn't bother trying to spend much time processing that part. ]
For what it's worth, I would've made the same call. [ Trusting a teammate and a friend. Can't fault him for that decision, and Sam shouldn't fault himself for it. He meets the other man's gaze, offering his own smile, faint and lopsided and warm. ]
Anytime.
[ He's the one that should be thanking Sam. ]