In the heart of Wakanda, surrounded by shimmering tech and sacred land, the rogue Avengers lived quietly together, yet apart. Their exile was voluntary, their presence tolerated by King T'Challa. But peace eluded them. They had not escaped their demons, only relocated them.
Steve Rogers
Steve Rogers awoke each morning before dawn. He ran until his legs trembled, sparred until his hands bled. Pain was a welcome distraction from the guilt.
He had once stood for ideals. Truth. Justice. Freedom. Now he wasn't sure what he stood for except regret.
He had shattered his shield figuratively and literally by slamming it into the chest of a friend who had only ever wanted honesty. He still remembered the look in Tony's eyes as he collapsed in the snow of Siberia betrayal, hurt, disbelief. Steve hadn't stayed. He had walked away.
He told himself he was protecting Bucky. That it was the right thing. But late at night, in the silence of the Wakandan sky, the truth crept in: I was afraid to be wrong.
He hadn't just broken Tony. He had broken the Avengers. The trust, the unity, the very thing he had sworn to protect. And now, here in Wakanda, surrounded by shadows of his former family, he couldn't outrun the echo of his failure.
He watched Wanda flinch when she walked past mirrors. Watched Bucky sleep with a blade tucked under his pillow. Watched Natasha pretend she wasn't holding everyone together with sheer will. And he said nothing. Because what right did he have to comfort anyone, when he was the reason they all had splintered?
Natasha Romanoff
Natasha had made herself useful.
She kept tabs on everyone, quietly checking in without making it obvious. She sparred with Steve to keep him focused. She trained Wanda to keep her grounded. She drank tea with Shuri and occasionally meditated with Bucky.
She played the role of Black Widow perfectly stoic, competent, unshakable.
But inside? She was exhausted.
Natasha had believed in all of them. That they could disagree and come back from it. That they would always be family. But the airport fight had shattered that illusion. She had seen Rhodey fall. She had felt the rift deepen with every punch thrown between brothers.
Now, she hoped. Not for forgiveness, but for a chance to rebuild. Piece by piece.
Wanda Maximoff
Wanda rarely left her quarters. She found some comfort in Wakandan quiet, and Shuri's gentle intelligence soothed her. But still she heard the whispers.
The world remembered Lagos. The accords. The damage.
She remembered too.
She trained harder now, not to become more powerful, but to become more controlled. To never be the cause of innocent blood again. Her hands burned with energy, but she wielded it now like a scalpel, not a sword.
She was afraid of what she might do again. But deeper still, she was afraid no one would ever trust her again. Or worse that she didn't deserve it.
Bucky Barnes
Bucky sat in the tall Wakandan grass most mornings, watching the sunrise with a silence that said more than words ever could.
They called him the White Wolf now. A name given not in pity, but in honor. It made him uneasy.
The Wakandans had treated him with respect, even kindness. Shuri had rebuilt his arm, T'Challa had offered sanctuary, and Steve well, Steve had stayed.
But Bucky couldn't forget who he'd been. What he'd done. And sometimes, he wasn't sure if he was better because of Wakandan science or simply numb.
He watched Steve punish himself day after day. And still, he said nothing.
Bucky didn't know how to forgive himself. And he sure as hell didn't know how to tell Steve he had forgiven him a long time ago.
Sam Wilson
Sam hated the quiet.
He missed the noise of a team. The playful jabs. The shared meals. The jokes that only Avengers would understand. Here in Wakanda, it was all strategy and training and long, tense silences.
He had chosen Steve's side and would again but he couldn't shake the feeling that nobody had really won. They had just stopped speaking.
Sam trained with Bucky most days. It was weird at first, but they grew to trust each other if not completely, then enough.
He wanted to believe they could be a team again. That when the time came, they would fight side by side like before. But every day that passed, Sam worried they were drifting too far apart to come back together.
T'Challa
T'Challa observed his guests with the insight of a king and the heart of a son who had once sworn vengeance.
He had offered sanctuary not just to Steve Rogers, but to broken warriors in need of a place to heal. Not to forget but to reflect.
Wakanda had always stood apart, but the world was changing. T'Challa saw it coming like a storm on the horizon. He had seen what happens when vengeance blinds justice, and he would not let that happen again.
Steve Rogers was a man wracked with guilt. T'Challa did not pity him but he understood him.
"Perhaps," he once told Steve quietly over morning tea, "it is not justice you failed, but your own heart. Forgive yourself, or no one else ever will."
Steve had no answer.
And Then... Silence
The days continued in strange harmony. They trained. They ate. They existed.
But something unspoken hung over them all.
They were waiting. Not for forgiveness. Not even for peace.
They were waiting for the storm they knew was coming.
And somewhere portals were beginning to shimmer.