ng harshly, Steve looks up to see Dresden and Seven hustling Six-One-Eight through the doorway, hands now bound behind his back.

Themander walks over very deliberately, a gun in his bare hand. He cocks it and points it straight between the Director＊s eyes, so close that the barrel is almost brushing his skin.

※Won＊t do any good,§ the Director pants.

※It＊ll make us feel better,§ themander growls. ※And it＊ll hurt. A lot. Take you a few weeks to bounce back again.§

※If he cooperates-§ the Director begins.

※Nuh-uh,§ themander says. ※Not going to happen. Now, are you going to leave, or do I get to shoot you?§

The Director sends him a dirty look. ※You wouldn＊t dare.§

※I would,§ themander replies evenly. ※I＊m not like you, I don＊t shoot people for the hell of it. But I do shoot people when they deserve it.§

※Save it,§ the Director replies. ※Don＊t you ever get bored of working out who deserves what?§

※No,§ themander replies, and then he swiftly raises his arm and backhands the Director with the butt of the gun, hitting him on the temple and knocking him out cold.

※Steph, Violet,§ he says. ※Take him back where he came from.§

They both nod and Steve lets go of the Director, allowing Stephanie and Violet to haul him away. He breathes out, watching him go, shaking from head to toe and not able to do anything about it. It＊s half adrenaline, he knows, and half shock. He watches the limp body being dragged across the gravel, unable to process that in another life, he could have turned out like that, he could have been as cruel and calculating, putting strategy and the mission above the lives and the safety of the people around him.

Themander is issuing directions, walking away towards the stairwell after the others, but Steve isn＊t listening. He wants to get out of here, he wants to go home-

※Steve!§

Steve looks around in time to see SJ appear at the top of the stairwell, darting under themanders arm and barrelling across the floor towards him, flinging himself at Steve the moment he＊s close enough. Dizzy with relief, Steve grabs him and holds him tight, one arm around his waist and the other on the back of his head.

※Shush, I＊m alright,§ he says, and he can feel SJ＊s shoulders jerking as he gulps in air and tries not to cry.

※He knew he could hurt you, and he still did it,§ SJ manages to say, voice trembling and hitching. His skinny arms cling around Steve＊s neck like he never wants to let go, and Steve wishes with all his heart that he could do something, could send SJ back to his universe alive and whole.

※I know, I know,§ Steve says shakily. ※I＊m alright.§

It＊s a lie, and the other Steves know it. He can only hope that SJ is young and naive enough to not pick up on it. He＊s just witnessed himself viciously attacking other people with no hesitation or remorse, of course he＊s not alright. He＊s sickened and absolutely terrified, and he has no idea what happened in those other universes for him to turn out like the Director has, like Six-One-Eight has-

※God, that was a hell of a fight,§ a voice says grimly, and Steve looks up past SJ to see Shield pacing towards him, a hand still clamped to his shoulder. Hees up close and then sinks to the floor with a groan of relief, face flickering in pain. Someone else steps up behind him and nudges him with his knee; Shield nods gratefully and leans back against their legs, and Steve glances up to see it＊s themander. He hears more footsteps crunching across the gravel towards them and then Dresden is also there, sitting down next to Shield and nodding at him; Brooklyn appears and crouches down beside Steve, clapping a reassuring hand onto his shoulder.

※Hey, don＊t look like that. We＊re not all bad,§ Brooklyn says, and Shield snorts with tired laughter.

Steve looks around at the familiar faces, and feels some of the worry and panic bleed away as he realises that Brooklyn is right. There＊s a whole bunch of Steve Rogers here with him, good versions of him, no matter what they did or who they ended up with. Shield nods at him and Dresden offers him a small crooked smile, and the sense of solidarity is a heady relief, a balm on his ragged emotions.

※Yeah,§ he says, smiling weakly even though he＊s battered and bruised and exhausted, and the expression is matched on the faces around him. ※Guess we＊re not.§

Tony stares down at the newest EEG results on the tablet in front of him. Shakes his head because there＊s still nothing but straight lines, still no discernable activity from Steve＊s brain. By all medical opinions, he＊s still technically dead.

Dropping the tablet, Tony reaches out and takes Steve＊s hand in both of his own, turning it over and slipping the fingers of one hand up to his wrist. He can feel the steady tic of Steve＊s pulse under his fingertips, and it just doesn＊t make sense.

※Trust you to still continue to defy medical science,§ Tony mutters. He＊s infuriated by the situation; the fact he doesn＊t understand it is almost too much for him to handle. He＊s one of the smartest guys on the damn pl and being unable to work it out is more of a wound to his pride than he＊ll ever admit out loud. He feels raw like sandpaper; constant pain, fear and uncertainty no longer piercing like knives but constantly scraping away at his insides. He's drowning with the burdens he's carrying, being slowly crushed by the need to have Steve back.

He lets go of Steve＊s hand and gently reaches up towards Steve＊s face. So, so gently he eases Steve＊s eyelid back with his thumb, watches the pupil contract in the light before letting go. He slumps back into the chair, wrapping both hands back around Steve＊s wrist, fingertips pressing against his pulse point again.

It makes no fucking sense and Tony wants to scream.

Throat tight, he breathes out shakily, and he knows there＊s no point in saying it out loud but he does anyway, his question hanging heavily and unanswered between them.

※Where the hell have you gone, Cap?§

※What＊re you doing?§

Steve smiles weakly at the sound of SJ＊s sleepy yet curious voice. He lifts his head away from the back of the couch and looks down at SJ who is curled up on his side on the worn cushions, his head on Steve＊s thigh and his eyes fixed on Steve＊s fingers where they rest on the inside of his wrist, against his pulse-point.

※Just checking,§ Steve replies, and SJ reaches out as well, pressing a finger in-between Steve＊s, cool against his skin.

※Two,§ Steve says, showing him, gently moving his hand into place, holding SJ＊s fingers still so he can feel his pulse.

※I could just do this,§ SJ says, pulling his hand away and sitting up, climbing into Steve＊s lap and leaning against his chest with his ear resting over his heart.

※Or you could just do that,§ Steve agrees, wincing slightly and shifting SJ so he doesn＊t have a bony elbow sticking into his solar plexus.

SJ is quiet for a few long moments. He looks sleepy, despite having spent the last hour and a bit napping. ※Is the Director going toe back?§

Steve hesitates. He absent-mindedly reaches up and smooths a hand over SJ＊s head, pushing his soft blond hair away from his forehead. Normally, SJ would object to the ruffling 每 and Steve has plenty of memories of objecting when Bucky did the same to him when they were younger 每 but he just breathes out heavily and rubs his cheek against the fabric of Steve＊s uniform.

※Don＊t know,§ Steve finally admits, not wanting to lie. He knows that the others have gone out to check that the Director and his crew are back across the river in the area that they normally haunt, but he＊s not going to relax until they get back with a positive report.

※If I grew up I＊d be like you and not that,§ SJ yawns, and the simple sentence feels like a punch to Steve＊s sternum. His throat goes alarmingly tight and he＊s momentarily lost for words. God, there＊s no doubt about what＊s the right thing to do as both Steve Rogers and Captain America when it＊s phrased like that. Well, ＆truthes from the mouths of babes＊ was what his Mom always used to say; at the time Steve had been nothing but suspicious of the phrase, because his Mom had clearly never listened to the tall tales that Eugene Jackson used to tell, but now it all slots into place and he finds a new and startling clarity about what she had meant.

※Good to know,§ he finally opts for saying.

※Well, you or Shield,§ SJ says. ※Maybe Shield because he never got beat up by a robot.§

A laugh tumbles from Steve＊s mouth, catching him by surprise. ※Gee, thanks,§ he says ruefully, and SJ grins up at him, looking pleased with himself.

Steve＊s sharp ears catch the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs; evidently the others have returned from their sweep of the area. He＊s glad; now he＊s over the initial shock of meeting the Director he＊s got so many questions to ask. Some of the answers aren＊t going to be easy to hear, but he wants to know. If he＊s going to continue to be the good man he needs to be in order to live up to the role of Captain America, he needs to know.

e on then, move off,§ he says to SJ, planting his fists into the cushions in order to push himself up-

※Nu-uh.§ SJ instantly wraps both his arms around one of Steve＊s, burrowing into his armpit and not shifting off his knee. Steve debates just picking him up and moving him, but he doesn＊t have the heart, so he just stays where he is and looks expectantly towards the door.

Within seconds, Seven and Shield walk into the room, looking tired but not stressed or worried. Shield looks as serious as ever, back to business as if he＊d not been shot only a few hours previously. Seven has got the remnants of a black eye but is otherwise looking fine.

※All clear?§ Steve asks.

※All clear,§ Shield says with a nod, and sits down heavily next to Steve, his hand moving up to press carefully against the wound on his shoulder. SJ wriggles his feet into Shield＊s lap and his mouth flickers in a small smile as he lays a palm on SJ＊s ankle. ※Winter says they＊re all the way up t

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