That overpowering bleach and disinfectant smell was something that would always bring Steve back to his terrible hospital experiences as a child.  He had spent so much time there between his own illnesses and sitting in the waiting room for his mother to finish her shift, that Bucky always joked that Steve himself began to smell like it.  He wouldn't have doubted it at all, given how often he was told to wash his hands, change from a dirty shirt, and to avoid anyone with even the idea that they might be sick.  He got used to being alone after all of that, but the hospital stink was something he would never get used to.  When he woke to the familiar sensory overload, he almost expected to be that scrawny kid again in his disorientation.

When he opened his eyes, Steve expected to see you next to him, resting comfortably in your bed as he slept in the chair next to you, but that wasn't at all what he saw.  Instead, he wearily opened his heavy lids to see the faces of his teammates, all looking down at him with mixtures of concern, mistrust, and maybe...fear? When he tried to shift and stand, he couldn't move, his wrists and ankles bound to the seat.

"Steve, don't," Bucky warned quietly, "just stay still, alright?"

"What's going on?"

"You don't remember?"

"Obviously, Buck."  Steve surveyed his friends again, only to see a shift in the group with the concerned faces now outnumbering the angry ones.  "Where..." he stopped, looking around the room beyond them, "where am I?"

"You're in the room next to (Y/N)'s," Natasha answered. "She's talking to Wanda, and Tony is in the ER getting his face stitched back together."

"Is she okay?"

"No, Steve.  No, she's not," Clint burst forward, pushing past Bucky.  "Listen to me, you son of a bitch," he spat, grabbing the front of Steve's shirt, "if she says that she never wants to see you again, that's exactly what's going to happen, do you understand?  You're going to walk away and never turn around, or you're gonna have to deal with every one of us."

"Barton, down boy, damn," Bucky huffed, pushing him away. "Steve, listen, you went a little bit off the rails in there.  When's the last time you slept?"

"I don't know...couple of weeks?  But I've done that before and never lost it."

"And, uh, when's the last time you saw your therapist?" Natasha added quietly.  "An unbelievable amount of shit has gone down in the last several weeks.  Please tell me that you've at least talked to him." 

Steve's lips parted as he thought, searching his mind for a date or a phone call or something, and coming up empty.  "Okay, so it's been a while," he relented quietly, "but I think that can wait.  Someone needs to tell me what I did, right now." 

~~~

"Hey, Steve.  So...twins, huh?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I...I was just...leaving," Tony stammered, pulling at his shirt collar nervously. His ears began to ring and his heart was pounding; he could feel the panic attack building quickly and he needed to get out of there as fast as he could. "(Y/N), maybe we'll talk another time...."

Steve dropped the two paper bags that held your lunch onto the floor at his feet and thrust his hands hard against Tony's back, sending him tripping over his own feet and into your bed.  He turned with a new fear in his eyes, knowing full well that without a suit or any way to stop Steve, he could be as good as the dead man he was promised to become.

"Steve, stop it!"

"Stay out of this, (Y/N).  He knows that he should never have come here.  He knows that he isn't supposed to be anywhere near you."

"Your team brought me here, Rogers," Tony panted through his building fear, "they know that she needs me too.  This has nothing to do with you and me, and what happened was an accident."

"I don't care." 

"Well I do," you tried again to break in, "Tony apologized and we talked it out, Steve.  It was my fault too.  You need to calm down, please."

"You need to stay out of it, (Y/N)," Steve snapped his reply, though his eyes were fixed on Tony.  "Just stay there and try to keep your mouth shut while I finish this once and for all."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, please, you are always defending him.  It's sickening, really, (Y/N).  And I've been sick for far too long now."  Steve lunged forward and grabbed Tony's shirt, pulling his arm back to deliver the first strike that snapped his head back violently and split his lip open. He drew back for the next, this time releasing his grip, sending Tony tumbling back into the wall with a crash of equipment and supplies around him.

Full of panic now, you looked around the room for anything that you could use to stop your enraged husband, but came up with nothing.  You could call for help, but the nurses in this place took forever to answer your light.  Steve had Tony pinned in the corner, and with nothing to cushion the hit, the next one could kill him if Steve hit full strength.  Ripping the call light cord from the wall, you hit the emergency button as you passed by, pushing off from a chair and onto Steve's back to wrap the cord around his neck.

"Steve, I don't know what happened to you, but you need to stop," you struggled, pulling as hard as you could.  "You don't know what you're doing.  I can't let you do this to him." 

Steve growled and reached his arms behind to try to grab you but he couldn't get a secure grip.  "(Y/N), what did I say about staying out of it?"  He took quick steps backwards, slamming himself against the wall, taking your breath away with the hit enough to make you release him.  "Someone should teach you how to listen."

"(Y/N), are you...alright?" Tony gasped, trying to hold himself up.  He was overcome by waves of vertigo and his vision was beginning to blur from the two hits he had already taken.  He wasn't even trying to fight back; not because he didn't think that he could, but because he thought he was deserving of this. When you realized that Tony would allow whatever Steve brought, your mind completely changed gears.

"Okay...it's been a while..." you muttered to yourself, "but you're done, Cap."  You pushed against the wall, using Steve's retracted arm as leverage to pull yourself onto his back, wrapping your legs around him and struggling to get his arms pinned to his sides.  Once you had him secured in the grip that he had yet to ever escape, with your arm now wrapped around his throat, you waited for him to finally pass out and send you both tumbling to the ground.

~~~

"Buck, I have to talk to her, please.  You can come with me if you want to," Steve pleaded, "you all can.  I just need to talk to her."

"I'll ask her when the doctor's done checking her out," Bucky nodded.  He wanted to try to reassure his friend, fighting the urge to slap a hand over his shoulder, instead keeping his arms tightly folded over his chest.

"Oh god..."

"That's right, Steve, oh god," Clint returned, again pushing his way to the front of the group.  "If anything is wrong with those babies, this face is the last one you'll ever see, so take a good look."

This time it was Sam who came between the two men, grabbing Clint's arms and all but dragging him away.  He took his teammate back to the waiting area, hoping that some distance would calm him down.  Sam could feel the adrenaline surging through Clint's muscles as he held him, and felt a pang on concern as to what he would do once he released his hold.  "What the hell, man?  What's gotten into you?"

"I'm just mad."

"Look at yourself, Barton, you're shaking and you can't stand still."

"She's...she's just been through enough, you know?" he sighed, finally stopping at the window to look out over the hospital lawn, resting his hands on his hips.  "Seriously, it's time for those two to be happy.  It's time for all of us."

Sam's head perked up now, and the realization suddenly hit him that Clint wasn't talking about only you and Steve.  "Clint, what did Nat say?" he approached cautiously. "When you asked?"

He exhaled loudly and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool glass with a soft thud.  He thrust his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes with a small moan of frustration in his tone.  Yes, Clint was mad at Steve, and maybe even a little bit at you, but in reality, his sour mood was all on him.

"She said she needed time to think about it."

~~~

Once the same tech that you had seen earlier in the day finished her scan and wiped away the rest of the blue goo from your skin, you rolled over and committed yourself to closing everyone off.  The scene kept replaying over and over in your mind, and the things that Steve had said to you still stung as you heard them.  You kept telling yourself that the man you fought wasn't your Steve, but it felt like a lie; something that he had been holding deep within himself came out today, and you didn't know why.

"Okay, everything looks good, (Y/N)," your doctor reassured you.  "You're really lucky, after the hit you took."

"No, I know how to position my body during an attack."

"Sure, that too..."

"Thank you, doctor.  You can leave now," you directed him curtly, rolling away and pulling up your blankets to completely shut him out.  You had too many things to think about, and the man was simply wasting your time now.

"Would you like to sleep?  I can help." Wanda offered gently, placing a soft and consoling hand on your shoulder that you quickly shrugged away.  She didn't know how to help you, but she wouldn't leave your side until she knew that you would be okay alone.  "(Y/N), you need to rest."

"What I need is for everyone to leave me the fuck alone."

~~~

"You guys, this is our fault," Bucky whispered, standing with the rest of the team; Rhodes was off to the side, keeping an eye on Steve despite still being restrained.  No one was about to give him any leeway, or risk him going to you without them.

"How do you figure?" Sam asked, eagerly waiting for the explanation.

"How many of us heard Steve say that he would kill Tony if he showed up?  Hmm? Yet what did we do?  We practically delivered the guy to him on a silver platter, Sam."

"We didn't make him lose his mind, Buck."

"Yes, we did.  Put yourself in his shoes for a minute," Bucky began.  "Maybe it's easier for me to do because I have a different perspective, but he told me that you guys were all he had when they thawed him out, and now everything is broken all to shit.  He had to fight people that he cares about, seeing them get injured, sometimes by his own doing.  If that isn't a PTSD trigger, then tell me I'm wrong.  On top of that, he's freaking out about being a dad, so let's double that up by two, which would be hard for anyone.  He's bringing his children into a world that's completely unstable to him." Bucky paused with a shake of his head as his own words rang truer to him now that they were spoken, before beginning again.  "Oh hey, then the dumbass hasn't slept in weeks.  Honestly, I'm ashamed of myself for not seeing this coming, and we hand him the one person that will throw him off the deep end."

Bucky was exhausted.  If he was going to be honest with himself, he hadn't slept much either, and if he couldn't figure out a way to make this better, he wouldn't be sleeping for some time.  He tried to rub the fatigue from his stinging and red eyes, but it didn't help; it only made it worse.  He looked around the group, now huddled in pairs and threesomes, talking quietly about what had happened with the occasional sideways glance at their Captain, and wondering who to go to for help. 

And then in a moment of clarity, he knew exactly where to go.

~~~

When your door opened a several hours later, darkness had fallen outside and your room was aglow with the lights of monitors and machinery, and the figure entering wasn't familiar to you.  You expected Steve, but you also knew that Bucky had been guarding you from him pretty strongly.  Tony had left after a quick goodbye, and the rest of the team had gone to their safe houses to lay low until he could clear everyone with Ross.

You rolled to your back and sat up slowly, feeling the ache in your muscles from your fight with Steve, hissing quietly at a sharp pain in your shoulder from the hit.

"Are you in much pain?" the man asked.

"No more than to be expected, thanks," you replied cautiously.  "And you are?"

"I was asked to bring you an offer.  Mr. Barnes hopes that you will accept some time away while he works with Captain Rogers to find out what happened here today.  His concern for you is profound."

"He's a good man," you continued, "and I don't know what I'd do without him.  But that doesn't answer my question."

He took a slow step forward into the light, and his features became unmistakable.  You thought the accent was familiar, but now, seeing his face even in the shadows, you couldn't believe that you hadn't known sooner.  "(Y/N), please accept my country's offer of political asylum, and much needed respite for you and your father.  We would be honored to care for you."

"Thank you, your highness," you sighed, on the verge of tears at the overwhelming sense of relief that T'Challa had just given you. "I would be honored to accept."