The Soldier and His Girl. (Steve Rogers Love Story)

Chapter Thirty: Criminals

I sat on the cold, unforgiving floor of my cell, my knees pulled tight to my chest, trying to hold myself together. My hands were locked in metal cuffs that went past my wrists, heavy and oppressive, keeping me from reaching for the one comfort I had left—my powers. I lifted my head slowly, staring at the cuffs, my breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. The chains that bound me to the floor clinked softly, a cruel reminder that I was trapped. These cuffs, designed specifically for me, felt like an iron cage around my soul.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the despair that threatened to swallow me whole. I couldn't stop thinking about Steve—his smile, the warmth in his eyes. But even that memory, as precious as it was, couldn't stave off the flood of fears and doubts crashing through my mind. What was happening on that plane? What would happen when it touched down? I tried to focus, to see a way out, but all I could see were shadows and uncertainty, too many decisions left unmade, too many futures hanging in the balance.

I tugged at the chains in frustration, but all I got was the hollow clanging of metal on metal, echoing in the empty cell. I let out a shuddering breath, the sound of my own helplessness filling the silence around me. Laying my head back against the wall, I tried to find some semblance of peace in the stillness, but it was a futile effort. I knew it wouldn't last long.

And then I heard it—Tony's voice, echoing through the chamber hall as the security doors groaned open. I stiffened, keeping my eyes shut, not wanting to face him, not wanting to deal with the complicated mess of emotions his presence always stirred up.

From the cell across from mine, I heard the slow, sarcastic clap of Clint's hands. His voice, dripping with bitterness, cut through the air like a knife. "The Futurist gentleman! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not."

I could almost see Tony's weary expression, the sigh that escaped his lips. "Give me a break, Barton," he muttered, but I didn't need to look to know he was shaking his head. I could feel it, the weight of everything unsaid between us. "I had no idea they'd put you here—come on."

Clint scoffed, the sound harsh and unforgiving. "Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, but not some super-max floating pokey. You know this place is for maniacs. This place is for—"

"Criminals." Clint's voice was sharp, and I could sense the realization dawning on Tony. "Criminals, Tony. That's the word you're looking for, right? That didn't use to mean me, Sam, the twins—or hell, even your sister. Where is Anthony? How could he let this happen?!"

The mention of my father sent a wave of anguish through me, memories of our last encounter crashing over me like a storm. We'd fought each other, used our powers to try and stop one another, and now... was it worth it?

"Because you broke the law." Tony's voice was defensive, but it was clear he was struggling, grappling with the weight of his choices. Clint scoffed again, his disbelief evident. "I didn't make you," Tony insisted, his voice growing more strained. "You read it, you broke it—alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. Emily has a son, I just don't understand, why didn't either of you think about your families before you chose the wrong side."

My heart clenched at the mention of my son, James, the pain nearly unbearable. I clenched my jaw, my eyes snapping open to glare at the cell wall. I listened as Tony's footsteps echoed down the hall, his departure imminent, but Clint's voice rang out, filled with anger and betrayal.

"You gotta watch your back with this guy. There's a chance he's gonna break it."

"Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark," Scott's voice hissed, and I couldn't help the bitter smile that twisted my lips. There was a time I would have defended Tony without hesitation, but now...