⏳ 2016

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honour, which is one more than you have."

"So, let's say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?"

I set my jaw, my arms crossed over my chest tightening in frustration. My eyes met Tony's just as they rolled in as much irritation as his body language demonstrated, hand clawed over his face and slouching in the cushioned chair.

I looked to Steve sitting in front of where Rhodey and Sam continued to argue, flicking through the document that was to decide our future. His expression was that of concern as he read. I knew immediately what he was thinking. He didn't agree. He didn't agree with any of it.

"A hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this," Rhodey said. "A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you're just like, "'No, that's cool. We got it'—"

"How long are you going to play both sides?" Sam countered.

"Enough," I interjected, massaging exhausted fingers on the bridge of my nose. "This is getting us nowhere."

Steve was the last to read the document. I'd read it. The idea was ludicrous. Having to rely on any form of government would slow down saving lives. Having to wait for approval to save millions of people was a mistake. More would die, in fact. But...I couldn't help but think that it would save lives in the process. I was torn.

"I have an equation." All attention turned to the Vision placing his glass on the coffee table delicately.

"Oh, this will clear it up," Sam grumbled.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially," Vision explained. "During the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Steve asked, his tone bordering on dangerous.

The Vision chose his next words carefully, his oddly coloured eyes flicking to Wanda before moving back to Steve. "I'm saying there may be a causality." His next words were well thought upon. His next words were dangerous. His next words...made too much sense. "Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. I knew exactly what he was going to say. I understood exactly what he was saying. I'd seen it. I'd experienced. So much of my life was built from it—my experiences, my scars, my relationships.

"Conflict breeds catastrophe," I finished, staring at my feet, afraid to look up and see the expressions of the people around me.

"Oversight..." The Vision threaded his fingers. "Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

"Boom," was all Rhodey needed to say to emphasise the points he'd been attempting to make, glaring at Sam who glared back.

"Tony," Nat said. My eyes flicked to the silent man, who had held his tongue for longer than I'd known him and his father combined. "You are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal."

Steve raised his chin as he watched Tony with suspicious, but slightly worrisome eyes. "It's because he's already made up his mind."

"Boy, you know me so well," Tony bit back, no wit or sarcasm laced through it in the slightest.

Something was wrong. I'd detected that the moment he walked in and sat for the conference. His talk seemed like it didn't go according to plan judging from his body language and expression, and I was worried to ask what happened. I was worried to hear his side of all this. To hear the decision he'd made.

"Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache, that's what's going on Cap," Tony said, most likely from the BARF. He walked into the kitchen nearby. "It's just pain. It's discomfort." He slammed an item of cutlery into the sink. "Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?"

I watched him pull his phone from his pants pocket and nestle it in the fruit basket, leaning it against the apples and pears, and pressed the screen. The holographic screen lit up, showing a photo of a young African-American man. He looked happy, a beautiful and charming smile painted on such an innocent face.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way," Tony hissed, his tone almost resentful. So much so that I didn't like where this was going. "He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall." He poured himself a cup of coffee as the rest of us watched in silence. "But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service.

"Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor." His eyes rested on Steve's the longest, glaring at him so heatedly that it would burn holes through his skull. "Guess where?" He violently threw much of the coffee out of his mug and into the sink, slamming the ceramic object on the island bench. "Sokovia."

I closed my eyes and dipped my head. Sokovia. He didn't survive, no doubt. That poor boy. We did that.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass," Tony growled. He ran a hand over his mouth and chin before finishing what little was left in his cup. "There's no decision-making process here." He leaned against the island. "We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less we're no better than the bad guys. We'd be no better than Loki. No better than Ultron." His eyes rested on me. "No better than Eon."

Though I tried to keep my expression neutral, I was scowling on the inside. I was not like Eon. I would never be like Eon, and I resented being compared to that monster.

"Tony," Steve began carefully, "someone dies on your watch, you don't give up."

"Who said we're giving up?" he retorted.

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions." He lifted the closed Sokovia Accords with ginger hands. "This document just shifts the blame."

"I'm sorry, Steve," Rhodey interrupted. "That is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about." I watched as Steve shook his head, clearly denying what Rhodey was saying, whether he had a point or not. "It's not the World Security Council, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D., it's not HYDRA."

"No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change."

"That's good," Tony interjected, teetering on the edge of fuming frustration as he stormed back to the group. "That's why I'm here. When I realised what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing."

"Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose."

That sunk in, and most of us looked at each other questioningly. Did we really want to do that? Did we really want to surrender any right to make a decision that could make or break a mission? To make or break us? Or the people we were trying to save?

"What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go?" Steve continued. "What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own."

"If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later," Tony replied, his tone the most serious I'd ever heard it. He wasn't speaking to Steve as a colleague, as an Avenger; I could tell by the look he was giving the super soldier. He was talking to him as a friend. "That's the fact. That won't be pretty."

"You're saying they'll come for me," Wanda said, the last of us to finally speak.

"We would protect you," the Vision added, the two of them sharing a glance.

No doubt whoever would come for Wanda would come for me too. She and I were certainly the powerhouses on the team. We were also the two who caused the incident in Lagos; I rubbed my hands together at the thought of that. Of the memory of what happened to may hands.

"Maybe Tony's right." All attention rested on Nat. "If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer." I snuck at glance at Steve, who wore such a soft expression of what looked like betrayal. "If we take it off—"

"Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?" Sam interrupted, a look of irritation plastered across his face.

"I'm just...I'm reading the terrain," she corrected. "We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back."

"Focus up. I'm sorry," Tony scoffed. "Did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?"

Nat squinted, her words laced with sass. "I want to take it back now."

"No no, no, you can't retract it." He looked up at me. "What about you? You've been fairly silent as well."

I had nothing to say. I knew where I stood. I knew which side I was on. My mind was made up beforehand, whether I liked it or not. My job had made my decision for me, but that didn't make it any easier.

"I know where I stand," was all I said.

Tony's brow shot up as he pushed for more clarification.

I didn't answer as I left, taking the stairs down out of the conference room. I stood by the window across from the third flight leading downwards. I dug my watch from my pocket and ran my fingers across the scraped and chipped golden lid. I popped the lid and golden dust drifted out, forming glowing shapes of people and places. Eilian's face formed from the dust, his signature cheeky smile grinning back at her.

I leaned my forehead against the glass, closing my eyes in thought. "You never told me it would be this hard."

I heard feet on the steps coming down behind me, and I turned to see Steve leaning against the metal railing, massaging the bridge of his nose. He looked up at me, his blue eyes misty. "She's gone."

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