The day Steve Rogers was declared fit for international travel, he got home to a kicked in door, a ransacked apartment, and a note stuck to his kitchen worktop with the largest knife he owned.

His shield was off his back and on his arm in a second, the skin on the back of his neck prickled. He half expected to see Fury slumped in the chair again, battered and bruised; the damn mess with SHIELD/HYDRA about to begin again in a loop, like that film with the groundhog.

The pinned paper fluttered in the breeze blowing in from his newly smashed windows. He trod carefully around the broken glass, careful not to make a sound. Whoever'd done this could still be there, might have heard him in the hallway, might be waiting for him to make a noise and reveal his position.

He winced at the slightest squeak of his shoes and the rustle of his clothes. His heart hammered against his chest as he made sure the room was clear. His drawers were opened, every cupboard tossed and his bookshelf wrecked, but the room was empty.

He checked the bathroom next. It was in the same state; the contents of the medicine cabinet strewn across the floor, surrounded by shards of the newly broken mirror. His shower curtain was slashed to pieces too and the bath was cracked.

Closing the door silently, he tuned his senses to anything he couldn't recognise. The fridge buzzed quietly, the wind blew though the apartment. There was the muted growl of car engines with the occasional blare of a horn and -

There!

There, a rattle from his bedroom. He crept towards it. He peered through the slightly open door, but couldn't see anything. He let out a slow breath and eased to one side of the doorframe, opening the door fully with one hand, half ready for the sound of gunfire.

Nothing happened. There were no new noises, no sound of movement other than the little clattering sound. He could see two corners of the room. Both were empty. Whatever was rattling hit the floor with a bang.

Steve burst through the door. His blood was rushing, his muscles tense and ready. The shield covered most of his body as he searched for an intruder.

The room was clear.

The adrenaline drained out of Steve in seconds, his shoulders slumping and his shield arm dropping down to his side. He sank onto the wall, letting out a long sigh. On the floor, some gadget Stark gave him was askew, rolling across the wooden surface in the light breeze. It must have fallen off of his bedside table. More paper littered the floor, drawings from old sketch books he'd finished which'd been up on his walls. A ruined picture of Howard drifted to a stop against his boot.

That was it. Just a trashed apartment. No assassins, no Hydra come to finish the job, no Winter Soldier waiting with haunted eyes and a bullet with his name on it. Suddenly he felt utterly exhausted, and his still healing scars throbbed painfully.

He trudged back to the kitchen, tossing the shield onto his couch. Time to find out who held such a grudge against him they'd tear up his shower curtain, tear down his drawings and steal his only lead on the Hydra base in Ukraine.

He didn't need to check that it was missing. Even though whoever'd done it tore his apartment to pieces after, it was easy enough to notice what was gone, and what wasn't. His tv was still there, all his Stark brand tech remained untouched, as well as his latest sketchbook. That alone would be worth a fortune to the right people, but there is was, sitting open on his floor, crumpled but whole. The pages were turning in the wind, flickering snapshots of his past. A study he'd made of the Howling Commandoes looked like it had a boot print on it.

That document was the only other thing of value he had, and the drawer in his coffee table that'd housed the only known dossier on the Winter Soldier project was open and vacant.

It wasn't as big a blow as it could have been. Steve had memorised most of the data, sickening as it was, and he'd sent Sam the information on the base near Kiev already. Racing against someone else to find out what happened to Bucky wasn't something he'd counted on though. Now every second he wasted was time someone else could be using to destroy his answers.

He plucked the note from the counter, ripping it out from under the knife. It was short.

Don't look for me.

WS

-(x)- 8 Days Later, Outside Kiev, Ukraine

Their first problem was getting into the country. Natasha provided a few ideas on how to get past the border, but the unrest in the area meant even her best ideas had a very fine margin for error. They ended up sneaking over the border from Moldova and travelling north, avoiding any trouble they ran across. It rankled Steve to do so, but fighting another countries' battles whilst he was illegally on their soil was one can of worms he couldn't afford to open. Natasha had drilled one rule into them; avoid being seen at all costs.

The second problem lay in finding the old complex. The location in the Polesia was huge. It was densely forested in some places, swampy and open in others and peppered with tiny towns all over. For the most part, Steve relied on Sam to scout the areas from overhead, and if he found anywhere promising, he'd radio Steve to take a closer look.

They'd found the first traces of a partially obscured road the day before, around noon, and traced it to the site. The rest of their time was spent gathering as much intel as they could about the base. There were three gates, thick metal and barbed wire, guard houses and three above ground buildings; each one constructed out of thick block wall and steel frames. They were ugly, but functional. There was definitely more underground, the file on the Winter Soldier detailed part of it, mentioning cryo-chambers, operating theatres and oblique references to memory tampering machines. Unfortunately whilst Steve's memory was incredible, it wasn't photographic, and the documents didn't detail the entrance to the secret area of the base. So they started observing the personnel.

That was when they discovered the third problem.

"They're abandoning ship," Sam surmised. A few vans, some flatbeds and one eighteen wheeler truck came and went as they watched through the relative cover of the trees. There was no mistaking the pattern of movement. Everything was getting loaded up by harried looking security guards and supervisors, directed by a tall man in a lab coat.

"Guess the increased mobility of the army spooked them." Steve speculated.

"And they don't want a bunch of civilians with machine guns getting their hands on a make-your-own-super-soldier machine." Sam said wryly.

"That equipment was probably the first to get moved out of the area. It looks like they're still stripping the equipment out. We should be able to infiltrate the site and recover the research materials if we work quickly."

"If they're still there." Sam looked sceptical at the idea.

"If they're still there." Steve acknowledged.

-(x)-

By dusk, it became clear there wasn't going to be a fool proof plan. There wouldn't even be a good plan. The staff scurried around the site like panicking ants, and every hour more material was being taken away. Sam put a call through to Natasha to try and track the vehicles via satellite, which was proving a daunting task. Without SHIELD as backup, hijacking a signal from anything more useful than Google Earth was a chore. Contact with Tony Stark was also proving elusive.

"Limited communications? This the same Tony Stark we're talking about?" Sam questioned.

"It is. He's been sorting through a few issues recently-" Natasha began.

"I heard. PTSD right? Granted most people don't start the road to recovery by rescuing the President from terrorists, but life's more interesting when you're a superhero." Sam juggled the phone and his pack, heavy with his wings, camping supplies and what he was currently looking for, food. He jerked up when he heard feet scuffing the dirt near the edge of the clearing, but it was only Steve, who looked at him quizzically.

"Natasha?" He mouthed. Sam gave him a thumbs up. Steve nodded back and set about digging around in his own gear.

"You're just realising that? You're not rethinking your position on backing up Cap are you, Falcon?"

"You kidding? This is the most fun I've had in years. When I was young I used to read Captain America comic books, now I'm living one. I'm not giving this up." A protein bar hit him in the face. Sam suppressed a laugh as Steve looked at him with raised eyebrows and a wry smile.

"Shall I sign you up for therapy now, or later?" Sam decided at this moment he'd never play poker with Natasha. He was only about forty percent sure she was joking. Well; maybe more like thirty.

"Later, after you've told me why Iron Man is playing at being a hermit all of a sudden."

"Those issues I mentioned involved Stark totalling almost all of his armour." Natasha sighed. Steve wandered over and huddled up with Sam by the handset.

"The fight got that bad?" Sam said.

"No, he did that all by himself. Call it a gesture of affection for Miss Potts." Natasha said in a bored tone.

"And he's been offline since then?"

"Not quite. Let's say since his little stunt with the exploding armour, Pepper has been a bit firmer about the hours he spends in the workshop. His being offline means he's violated her very generous timeslot."

"So Tony Stark has been put on the naughty step?" Sam said.

"That's accurate. I've been trying to get Happy to put me in touch with Jarvis, but he's not quite mastered the hold button yet, let alone transferring a call. I've made some progress alone, but it's slow. Looks like you don't have to be a brain in a jar to outsmart me. Surprised Rogers?"

"Wh-"

"I can hear you breathing." Sam and Steve shared a glance. "I'll keep working things from this end. You two have fun storming the castle."

"I get that reference," Steve interjected, but she was already gone. Sam shook his head, laughing incredulously at Steve's wounded expression.

"I could call her back."

"Shut up," Steve said, grinning as he shoved Sam over. He stood up, shaking his shoulders out and looking in the direction of the base. His eyes narrowed, and Steve shifted into Captain America. "Time to get our heads in the game."

Sam dusted himself off and grabbed the protein bar from the floor.

"Absolutely. So, how are we going to play this?" He unwrapped the food as Steve pulled out a pad of paper from his bag and showed him a map he'd made of base.

"We'll wait for full dark. There's plenty of cover, and if we follow this pattern-" He drew a steady line on the map, "we should be able keep out of the floodlights and avoid detection until we get inside this building. Most of the material is being moved from there, it's a safe bet that's where we'll find the intel we're looking for."

"Knowing Hydra, and it's still weird to say that by the way, they'll keep the good stuff locked down, if it's not already gone. It'd be guarded by something more like Strike than your average security guard too. Between that and the fact we haven't got any idea about the subterranean layout, we're looking at a big disadvantage here." Sam pointed out.

"I'm working on the assumption that most of the heavy hitters will probably be in convoy with the machinery, leaving the rest less protected."

"It did look like they hired most of the WWE to drive those trucks around." Sam mused with a mouthful of food, "But less protection won't mean no protection."

"True." Steve considered the best course of action. "We should split up to cover the most ground. The radios Natasha supplied us with should work in the tunnels, but that doesn't help us if we're too far away from each other to provide back up."

"If one of us gets in over our heads, we should retreat to a rendezvous point on the surface. I can provide air support from there, and they haven't got anything remotely flight capable from the looks of things. Advantage good guys."

"Good point. There's a communications station here," he motioned to one of the smaller squares on his map, "We'll have to neutralise it on our way in. It'll make a good fallback position if we need it."

"Communications? How'd you figure that out?"

"The base reminds me of a similar one in Italy. There's also a small array of aerials and satellites wired into it, they're located on a decoy structure."

"It reminded you of a base in Italy, in the 1940's? Do Hydra bases have that kind of consistency?" Sam glanced down at the site plan again. "Might not even matter. If I remember right, your first mission was going blind into a Hydra base, and you managed it without a tour guide." He joked.

Steve's expression shuttered. For a moment his ears were ringing from being far too close to an explosion, the smell of dust and smoke was everywhere and on the other side of a warehouse his best friend was screaming that he wouldn't leave him.

"Cap?" Steve blinked and the memory was gone.

"You know, Hydra could be pretty predictable sometimes. I guess it's a side effect of wanting everything neat and efficient. There was one weapons repository near Marseille that had everything signposted, in three different languages."

Sam snorted with laughter. "Even you wouldn't be able to get lost in there." Steve gave him a wounded look.

"Lost? I might as well be a homing pigeon. Chalk another one up for being a super soldier."

"Says the man who took a seventy year long wrong turn in Greenland." Sam joked lightly, dusting his hands free of crumbs. "Maybe we should put a homing beacon on you, just in case. Or maybe something a bit more low tech. How do you feel about a collar with a bell on it?"

"Not exactly stealthy," Steve chuckled.

"Maybe a tattoo then, 'If found please return to-"

"Don't say the Avengers Tower." Steve groaned. "Limited tech or not, somehow Stark will somehow be listening to this and find a way to make it happen."

"See, that sounds like experience talking. Has Stark got something on tape? You're Captain America man; have you ever even done anything blackmail worthy?" Steve gave him a sheepish look.

"Well, this one time I-"

An explosion ripped through the evening air. The ground trembled with the force of it, and alarms were quick to follow, screaming in the twilight. Sam snatched his wings from his pack as Steve grabbed his shield, both looking over to where a flare of flickering orange lit up the night.

"Someone's started the party without us." Sam commented, strapping himself into the flight harness. Captain America checked his weapons. Five minutes later, as Sam snapped his goggles into place, they were ready.

"Let's gatecrash."

-(x)-

The base was a mess. One building was almost completely turned to ashes, the smoky air heavy with the tang of burning mould and damp. Just inside the gate Steve could see their first objective, the communications array, was a smouldering pile of rubble.

The building most intact was the one they thought held the entrance to the underground part of the site. Steve led the way, ducking behind a stack of steel containers as more people ran past them, a mousy looking scientist stopping to grab hold of a man who slipped and fell. Another man helped her and they carried their fallen companion away together, not even stopping when glasses fell from the woman's face. Steve waited until the last of the stragglers had gone by before motioning to Sam to continue. They got hallway to the doors before having to throw themselves behind a truck for cover. Around twelve armed Hydra guards pelted past, completely missing them.

Steve motioned for them to continue. The doors to the complex were already smashed in, the first room Steve could see was clear. Blood streaked one of the walls, the trail disappearing behind an overturned table. Their mystery assailant had definitely come this way. Before they could head any deeper into the building, the sound of muted gunfire permeated the air. They both ducked into cover, but the shots weren't directed at them. Sam stood, squinting into the darkness.

The smoke drifting over the site parted like a curtain in the soft breeze. The gate they'd watched everyone running to was lit by tiny bursts of light, and dark shadows fell against the fire lit night. Sam felt something icy settle into his stomach.

"Steve, I don't think everyone here was Hydra."

"They must have been prisoners." Steve adjusted his shield on his arm, his face grim. "We can't let them die, not if they're innocent."

"I'll go." Sam checked his machine pistols. Satisfied, he started towards the massacre. Steve caught him by the arm.

"Hey, you're not going alone."

"Yeah, I am. I'll save them, and you're not coming with me." Sam knocked Steve's hand away.

"Sam," Steve started.

"No time to waste." Sam clapped him on the shoulder, ran out of the doors and took off. Steve grabbed his radio.

"I got your back; you target the ones closest to the civilians-"

"Cap, I got this." Sam's voiced was hard to make out over the wind as he flew. "I can take on a few guys with guns. You trusted me to take on a helicarrier before, remember that?"

"But-"

"Look, Cap, we both know who's down there, waiting for you. You go get your friend back, we'll rendezvous later. Now, I don't know how many people you've got to rescue before you qualify to be an avenger, but I'm going to try and get my quota filled. Falcon out."

Steve watched the Falcon disappear into the inky cloud of smoke that masked the gate before turning towards the tunnel and the stairs that led deeper into the base.

Time to find the Winter Soldier.

Welcome to my first foray back to fanfic in a few years. Thanks so much for reading, any reviews would be very welcome. This updates weekly on Fridays and is cross posted from AO3 (in case it seems familiar to anyone). Cheers