Saving Grace

Forty Three

Everyone but Ross moves to the kitchen/living room area, and debate starts quickly. Tony just sits and watches it happen. Grace sits, too, thinking it all over. Tony didn't tell her what the discussion was going to be about before they came.

As Steve reads the Accords, Rhodey and Sam argue.

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

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

"One hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this. One 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?"

"I have an equation," Vision butts in.

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

"Since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate," Vision replies.

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Steve asks, looking up.

"Correlation doesn't equal causation, Vis, you should know that," Grace pipes up. Everyone looks at her, surprised.

"I'm only saying there may be a causality," Vision replies carefully. He turns back to Steve. "Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight... Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

"Boom," Rhodey says.

Nat looks at the reason that they're all here in the first place. "Tony. You're being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal."

"It's because he's already made up his mind," Steve says.

Tony rolls his eyes. "Boy, you know me so well." He stands, going into the kitchen. "Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort." He picks up a mug and starts to fill it with water at the sink, but then stops. "Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?" He shakes his head as he angrily makes himself a drink, chuckling mirthlessly.

He then places his phone in the bread basket to prop it up, projecting the photo of a boy about eight years older than Grace. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. 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. No, he decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where? Sokovia." Everyone looks down, or at least away from Tony. He continues. "He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were 'saving the world.'

"There is no decision-making process here. 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."