6

After Ross left, tensions among the Avengers didn't take long to come out into the open. The team was conflicted. None of them wanted to give up their ability to operate freely . . . but that video montage had shaken them. Was there a better way? Rhodey and Sam staked out opposite positions right away.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have,” Rhodey told Sam.

Sam wasn't impressed by the secretary's credentials. “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?”

“One hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this,” Rhodey countered. “One hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you're just like, ‘No, it's cool.’ ”

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam demanded. Rhodey had been skeptical while Ross was in the room. Now he was taking the secretary's side, and Sam didn't like it.

“I have an equation,” Vision announced.

“Oh, this will clear it up,” Sam said, his sarcasm plain.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of noted enhanced persons has grown exponentially,” Vision said. “And 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.

“I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict . . . breeds catastrophe. Oversight. Oversight is not an idea that could be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey said, leaning back in his chair.

“Tony, you're being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal,” Natasha said.

Steve had also been watching Tony, knowing that his opinion would sway people. “That's because he's already made up his mind,” he said.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony replied. “Actually, I'm nursing my electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain . . . discomfort.” Restless, he got up and put some dishes in the common room sink. “Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed-and-breakfast for a biker gang?”

Coming back to the table, he brought up an image on the wall display screen. It was the photograph he'd gotten from the angry mother in the hallway behind the MIT auditorium. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree. Three-point-six GPA. Had a floor-level gig. A plan 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, 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. Guess where? Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know, because we dropped a building on him.” Tony set his coffee cup on the table with a bang. “There's 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, we're boundaryless, we're no better than the bad guys.”

Steve could see why this was hard. He'd been there. He could conjure lots of faces of young men who didn't make it home from Europe. “Tony,” he said, “someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.”

“Who said we're giving up?” Tony countered.

“We are, if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. These documents just shift the blame.”

“Sorry. Steve, that . . . that is dangerously arrogant,” Rhodey interjected. “This is 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,” Steve said. “And agendas change.”

“That's good,” Tony said. Clearly, he and Rhodey were on the same page. Steve wondered who would be on his side, if it actually came down to choosing sides. “That's why I'm here,” Tony went on. “When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing them.”

“Tony, you chose to do that.” Steve was getting frustrated that Tony couldn't see the glaring problem with the accords. “If we sign these, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if it's somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

He didn't have an answer to Steve's questions yet, but Tony could definitely see that Ross had given them a warning. Supervision was coming, one way or another. “If we don't do this now, it's going to be done to us later,” he said. “That's a fact. That won't be pretty.”

“You're saying they will come for me,” Wanda said.

Vision tried to reassure her. “We will protect you.” She didn't look convinced. To Steve's eye, she looked guilty and scared and ready for someone to tell her what to do.

“Maybe Tony is right,” Natasha said. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer.” Natasha knew even a year ago she would have thought differently, but things had changed since then. “I'm just . . . reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win our trust back.”

“I'm sorry,” Tony said. He leaned on the table. “Did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?”

“Oh, now I want to take it back,” she said.

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. I'm impressed by what you did.” He stood and spoke to the group. “Okay, case closed. I win.” Just like that, he was back to being flip Tony, the guy who always had a joke at hand. It was all so easy for him, Steve thought.

Steve's phone vibrated. He glanced at it and saw a text:

She's gone. In her sleep.

The words were like a punch in the gut. Steve stared at them for a moment. Then he stood up. The rest of the conversation could wait. “I have to go,” he said. Nobody tried to stop him.