Hey guys and gals. Sorry it's been so quiet on here, but things have been a bit hectic. I moved for the first time early March this year, and that was only suppose to be for 3 months, which then stretched to 5. We didn't buy the house we were going to, so it became a frantic search for another one. Me and my mama have been living out of boxes and suitcases for all this time as well, but we're finally in the new place.

I know I said that this story would most likely be up in September, at first, and then said it might be July, which obviously it wasn't, but it's completely finished now. This story has 10 chapters and is just over 37,000 words (not including the A/N notes I do).

I'm working on a lot of stories, some longer then others, so I may not be uploading new stories every week, but I will not abandon posting fanfics. I also have a question on an upcoming project. Some people wanted only Regina to fall from the train in the last story, I Never Told You What I Do For A Living, and I thought about changing it, but I didn't. Instead, I've decided to write another story where Bucky doesn't fall from the train, but somebody else does, and that's Steve's fiancee and Howard's sister (Tony's aunt), Elenora Stark (Born December 16th 1919). Bucky gets frozen in the ice with Steve and you know what happens. Now, would you guys like EJ to lose her arm and get a metal one - like the Winter Soldier, which is what she is - or should she keep her flesh arm? Another thought that came to me last night was, should The Winter Soldier happen? Or after a mission for HYDRA, should she see a picture or Tony (thinking it was Howard), or Steve and Bucky, and she goes to find them.

Anyway, on with the story. It might be a little confusing at first, but everything will make sense in the end (the end of Chapter 8 is when everything is revealed, if you haven't figured it out already by that point).

The picture used is 'An amazing shot of the Crabs Nebula.'

Please R&R, comment, subscribe, favourite and all that jazz, if you want to.

T.C

~oOo~

Chapter 1

Death of a Dream

It was cold, and I was scared. A mask was covering the lower half of my face, making it hard to breathe properly, and the thin clothing didn't help to warm me up. My muscles ached with the cold, but it didn't stop the two people from dragging me; my arms around their shoulders, and my feet trailing along the floor behind me.

Everything felt very blurry, very disjointed. It was like I was slipping in and out of consciousness, or the lights being dimmed and then turned back up to full brightness again. Whether it was for minutes or seconds, it didn't help with trying to figure out what was going on.

But when they had dragged me where they wanted, they let me fall to the floor in a heap; the mask still covering my nose and mouth. And while things were coming back into focus, I was still slightly disorientated and confused about where I was, and what was going on.

And I only looked up when a pair of feet appeared in front of me. I was met with another person in a mask, a man. His hair brushed his shoulders, and his ice blue eyes were hard as he stared at me. He looked like a warrior, a soldier awaiting his orders, with his arms by his side; one flesh, and one metal.

He yanked me to my feet, lifting me from the floor like I weighed nothing. This was the end for me, I just knew it. Even without having heard an order, why else would I be here, if they weren't going to kill me? I couldn't think of why they would need to kill me, but they must have some reason to do it. Maybe I'd overheard something at work because that was always a very plausible possibility.

"Kill her." A voice said in another language, but it confused me because I didn't know how I understood what was being said. I didn't speak any other language, apart from French, and what was said, definitely wasn't in French.

The Soldier nodded before his metal hand wrapped itself around my throat, and he squeezed; slowly cutting off my air supply. And the more my lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, the more I tried to fight him; pleading with my eyes for him to let me go. To let me live.

But there is familiarity behind his blue eyes. It was like they were dead, and that seemed to scare me more than the thought of dying. Of never seeing my friends ever again. Of nobody knowing what had happened to me… Of them thinking I'd done this to myself.

~oOo~

I bolted up in bed, breathing hard at the nightmare that I'd just woken up from. They had been coming more and more since I'd started my job at Triskelion four months ago, as the Personal Assistant of Alexander Pierce.

Nobody knew about my nightmares, not even my best friend, an ex-air force pararescueman named Sam Wilson. He now worked at the VA, helping other veterans struggling with the horrors of what they dealt with overseas. I helped out a couple of days a week, but I was never sure when I'd be needed by Pierce, so it wasn't a strict timetable of when I was going to be there.

After all the times that I'd woken up from my nightmares, I knew that there would be no way that I was going to be able to get back to sleep. So I got up, put on my running gear, and left my little apartment. Runs always helped get my thoughts in order, and calm me down.

Because it was so early, there would be hardly anybody out here. I always liked watching the colour of the sky change, and sometimes I would just sit by the water to watch it. Didn't matter if it was sunrise or sunset, I watched it anyway.

The repetitiveness of running was what made it calming - one foot in front of the other, only faster than walking. It was actually how I met Sam, which he still pretended to get annoyed at it because I lapped him. It's not my fault that he's so slow, but it did prompt me to sometimes hide out of sight just so I could run past him.

But today was different. Something was going to happen this week, and there was nothing anybody could do to stop it. It was just a feeling that I had, but I had this nagging sensation in the back of my head, that told me whatever was going to happen, it would be big, and it would change everything I thought I knew.

My thoughts were interrupted when I spotted Sam being passed by the Lincoln Memorial. He kept his steady pace but tried to increase his stride, so that he might catch the guy who lapped him; which would be impossible. The guy was already out of sight.

That's when I got an idea. The next time the guy came round, I was going to speed up, just so that I could annoy Sam. I knew it was mean, but after the dream that I'd had this morning, I needed a laugh, and Sam wasn't the one to hold grudges against his friends. He'd just laugh it off within a couple of hours.

In all honesty, the mystery man came faster than I expected and was lapping me again before we'd made it another three-quarters of a mile… It also meant that I had to sprint to catch up. I'd never had any problems with running fast though, and always seemed to be able to run faster and longer than any of my peers, so keeping this pace for a couple of minutes would be nothing to me.

"Don't say it! Don't say it!" I caught Sam saying, as he looked over his shoulder slightly.

"On your left." The mystery man said, overlapping Sam again, and continuing his fast pace. And I couldn't help but copy what the runner had just told Sam, so, within a couple of seconds of being lapped again, I was doing the exact same thing.

"Come on!" Sam yelled angrily, and actually tried to sprint after us, only to fall back to a walk after a couple of seconds; unable to keep up with us, and breathing heavily.

I slowed down to a walk as well, knowing that I didn't want to do another lap, and I also had to go home and change, before spending the morning with Sam at the VA, and then my afternoon at the Triskelion. Fury had been saying something about the Lemurian Star being off course, and I had been asked to sit in if anything major happened. Who was I to argue with what the boss wanted?

Sam almost collapsed against the tree and breathing hard, while I just laid on the grass next to him. "I… Hate… You." He gasped while putting a hand on his chest, "And… That… Talent you seem… To have with… Running."

"You love me, and you know it." I teased, spreading my arms out to the side; looking more like a starfish, or an upturned turtle in distress, "How else would I motivate you into being faster?"

He didn't answer that. He just sat against the tree, trying to catch his breath, while I couldn't help but chuckle at him; thinking that he was acting a little like a sulking child, but finding it funny as hell.

"Need a medic?" Somebody asked, but I was too comfy on the ground to look at how it was, or even open my eyes.

"I need a new set of lungs." Sam laughed, "Dude, you just ran, like thirteen miles in thirty minutes."

"I guess I got a late start."

"Oh, really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap." He hesitated for a couple of seconds, but I could tell he was also looking at me when he continued, "Did you take it? I assume you just took it."

It took a lot of effort to stop myself from bursting out in laughter. Sam was getting into his sarcastic phase, which he normally got after running with me, but after being lapped by the both me and the man he was currently talking to, he was going to use sarcasm against the both of us.

"What unit you with?"

"Fifty-eighth, Pararescue. But now I'm working down at the VA, with this one who tags along a couple days a week." I could tell he pointed to me, so I just did a little wave to the guy from where I was, not opening my eyes or even looking at him, "Sam Wilson."

"Steve Rogers."

I heard Sam grunt, and a shadow fell over my face. "I kinda of put that together. Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing."

"It takes some getting used to. It's good to meet you, Sam."

"It's your bed, right?" I said, holding my arms up for Sam to pull me up.

"What's that?" He turned around, a look of shock creeping onto his face when he saw me, and I had no idea why. Maybe it was something about me that reminded him of somebody from his past.

"Your bed, it's too soft. When Sammy was over there, he said he'd sleep on the ground; using rocks for pillows. And now he's home, and he says it's like…"

He cut me off, by finishing with the exact same words that I was going to use. "Lying on a marshmallow. Feels like I'm gone sink right to the floor." Sam smiled, and I just nodded my head, "What's your name?"

"Diana Flynn. A friend of Sammy, and personal motivator. He's a really slow runner sometimes, so I just help him try to get faster."

"You just remind me of somebody else." He said, before looking back at Sam, "How long?"

"Two tours. You must miss the old days, huh?"

"Well, things aren't so bad." He admitted, "Food's a lot better, we used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. I've been reading that a lot trying to catch up."

Sam smiled, looking almost thoughtful as he started to speak. "Marvin Gaye, nineteen seventy-two, 'Trouble Man' soundtrack. Everything you've missed, jammed into one album."

"I'll put that on the list." Steve got out a small, pocket-sized notebook, before writing down what Sam had told him. He'd only just finished writing, when his phone beeped, "Alright, Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that's what you call running."

They shook hands, joking around, and talking about the VA before a sleek, black car pulled up by the curb; the window rolling down to show a pretty redhead in the driver's seat. She made some smart-ass comment about the Smithsonian, while Sam tried his hardest to flirt with her, without saying much. He wasn't very successful, but she did speak to him.

We watched them drive off, but I knew that if Steve had been called upon for a mission, then they were going to want me in the office by the time they arrived at the drop zone.

~oOo~

I'd had less time at the VA then I'd wanted, but Sam understood that if I got called into work, then I had to leave. He knew I was a PA, but not where I worked or what I did there. He just knew, that if I was called, I had to go.

The mission had been a success though. The hostages were rescued, most of the pirates had been killed, the ship had been brought back into international waters, and everything was relatively okay. Nothing we couldn't talk our way out of. We just wrote it down as another successful mission by Captain America, Black Widow, and the STRIKE team.

However, Steve wasn't very happy. Apparently, Fury hadn't told him about Agent Romanoff having a different mission to his, and didn't share this piece of information with him.

So they were arguing with each other when I knocked on the door. I heard the raised voices, wanted to know if everything was okay, or if they needed anything. I had been on my way to drop off some files anyway, and curiosity got the better of me. Steve looked a little shocked to see me standing outside the door.

"You're wrong about me. I do share. I'm nice like that." Fury took the files off of me, before putting them on his desk, and leading the both of us towards the elevator, "Insight bay."

"Captain Rogers and Miss Flynn do not have clearance for Project Insight." The S.H.I.E.L.D. computer said as the doors closed behind us.

"Director override, Fury, Nicholas J."

And the elevator started moving down after the override was given; taking us closer to Project Insight. I'd seen something about it on Pierce's desk, but I didn't know what it was exactly. I didn't pry into the file, just saw it with the bold, red 'CONFIDENTIAL' stamped across it.

"You know, they used to play music."

"Yeah." Fury leaned on the railing, "My grandfather operated one of these for forty years. My granddad worked in a nice building, he got good tips. He'd walk home every night, a roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag." He started telling the two of us, "He'd say 'hi', people would say hi back. Time went on, the neighborhood got rougher. He'd say 'hi', they'd say 'keep on steppin'. Granddad got to grippin' that lunch bag a little tighter."

"Did he ever get mugged?" I asked.

"Every week some punk would say 'what's in the bag?'"

"What did he do?"

"He'd show 'em. Bunch of crumpled ones, and a loaded .22 Magnum."

As the elevator continued its descent, both Steve and I both turned around to see a large hanger - right under the Potomac - with three giant Helicarriers; people and vehicles moving around, and boxes were under each of the raised ships. Smaller jets were being lifted onto the decks of each Helicarrier, and people were checking each of the massive guns that adorned them.

"They're a little bit bigger than a .22," I commented, shocked that this had been planned, and built, under where I worked. Under a river that I passed every day. That this was going on, and I'd had no idea that it was happening.

We walked off of the elevator, and across the floor; passing workers who were leaving, or going off to another part of the hanger. Some had clipboards and orange jackets on, while others were just in normal S.H.I.E.L.D. gear.

"This is Project Insight. Three next-generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites."

"Launched from the Lemurian Star."

"Once we get them in the air, they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight, courtesy of our new repulser engines." Fury was explaining, and I didn't need to hear Steve ask who, to know that it was Tony Stark that designed them, "He had a few suggestions once he got an up-close look at our old turbines. These new long-range, precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist's DNA before he steps outside of his spider hole. We gonna neutralize a lot of these threats before they even happen."

The three of us came to a stop on a moving walkway that took us closer to one of the massive Helicarriers and only stopping when we reached the glass dome on the underside.

"I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.

"We can't afford to wait that long."

"Who's 'we'?"

"After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once, we're way ahead of the curve."

That meant that every person on the planet, would have a gun on them, and they wouldn't even know it. What if somebody used it for bad, instead of the good that Fury was talking about? Sure, us humans weren't perfect, but did that mean all of us had to die for somebody else's mistake?

"… This isn't freedom. This is fear."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. takes the world as it is, not as we'd like it to be. It's getting damn near past time for you to get with that programme, Cap."

"Don't hold your breath."

And with that, Steve grabbed my wrist and started pulling me back towards the elevator; away from Director Fury and the three Helicarriers. He took me to his motorbike, handed me a helmet, and told me to 'get on.' Who was I to argue with the Captain?