Steve Rogers

Steve had reached out to Natasha (through several layers of encryption and burner phones because Natasha, at least, understood how to lay low) and was now in his very best incognito outfit (beard, jeans, baseball cap, sunglasses) with Tony (in generally the same outfit), trying to appear casual as they walked around one of those giant outdoor outlet malls waiting for Natasha to make contact.

"She said she'd drop a pin with where she is in--" Steve glanced at his watch, "--eight and a half minutes. You've got the test with you?"

He'd asked that about four times already, but he was anxious.

The flight from Romania was as tense and silent as Steve had feared. Bucky was avoiding eye contact any time Steve glanced over and he'd caught Tony's tense, disappointed face a couple times before he'd stopped looking in that direction as well.

They arrived at a loading dock--Tony was staying back by the plane to avoid questions about two Tonys in he same place--and Steve got out of his SUV just as Bucky's pod was taken away via forklift. Steve's jaw clenched to see it.

"What's going to happen to him?" he demanded with his most righteous, Captain America is Disappointed in Your Choices frown aimed at the shorter, gray haired man clearly waiting for them.

"Same thing that ought to happen to you," the man replied, unaffected by the look. "Psychological evaluation and extradition."

Sharon came up beside them. "This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander."

Steve pursed his lips in silent acknowledgement before asking, "What about our lawyer?"

"Lawyer. That's funny," Ross said, spinning on a shiny loafer and heading into the office, assuming everyone would just follow along. "See their weapons are placed in lockup." At Sam's glare, he added, "Oh, we'll write you a receipt."

"I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in it," Sam retorted.

Steve glanced back one more time to finally meet Bucky's resigned, slightly defeated eyes.

"You'll be provided with an office instead of a cell," Ross was saying as he sped-walked through the facility. "Now do me a favor and stay in it?"

"I don't intend on going anywhere," T'Challa replied with a tiny nod before disappearing down a different corridor, a tall woman with a serious expression emerging from the shadows to follow him.

"For the record," Natasha said, appearing on Steve's left, "this is what making things worse looks like."

"He's alive," Steve said as they turned into a room and almost smacked into the other Tony in a three piece suit with his phone up by his ear. "No. Romania was not Accords-sanctioned. And Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup," Tony said, barely making eye contact with Steve before turning away.

"Try not to break anything while we fix this," Natasha said, all but physically stuffing Steve into an uncomfortable wheeled chair in front of a wooden conference table. At least, Steve thought, a little desperate for good news, the conference room had a good view of the command center monitors.

"Consequences?" Tony said into the phone, arching his eyebrows at Steve as he did so. "You bet there'll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that 'cause I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir."

He hung up.

"Consequences?" Steve repeated.

"Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted. Had to give him something," Tony replied.

"I'm not getting that shield back, am I?" Steve asked.

"Technically, it's the government's property," Natasha said, not sounding the least bit regretful. "Wings, too."

"That's cold," Sam said, sitting down next to Steve at the conference table.

"Warmer than jail," Tony retorted as he and Natasha left Steve and Sam cooling their heels in that room.

( This will go well )

[OOC: Continued from here! Canon, again, beaten, folded and multilated to fit my vision. #noregrets]