The building had been cleared out at least twenty-four hours ago. Much to the dismay of all of us, but most especially the Captain. Rumlow, one of the former members of the STRIKE team and Hydra agent had not only survived his wounds at the Triskelion but somehow managed to get away once well enough. He'd been running a mercenary crew ever since. One that had caused hundreds of deaths in the months following. Captain Rogers and the other Avengers had been hunting him and his crew with an almost zealous fervor.

Me and mine had only been on one other mission involving the now infamous Crossbones and that one had been even less successful.

"Gold leader, we've got bupkis, over."

I managed to not laugh at both the choice of words and the utter disappointment in the tone. My team had been looking forward to a fight, which made little sense given we'd spent the better part of the previous week in South America tracking down Chitauri weapons that had ended up in the hands of a cartel. And they had not given up the artifacts easily. A couple of them still sporting remnants of injuries they'd sustained.

Clearly, my people were gluttons for punishment.

"Fan out and find me something. They were here recently no way they didn't leave a trail."

I got a round of 'rogers' and they proceeded to work their way deeper into the complex. By some miracle, it hadn't been yet another warehouse. No, looked like this place had been a call center once upon a time. Big open spaces with high ceilings and a maze of cubicles on every single one of the five floors. The majority of the equipment long gone, but the walls with built-in desks and the occasional chair left behind for us to make our way through.

Weapon at the ready, just in case, I worked my way deeper into the room only to find my way blocked by dull gray walls that had clearly been arranged with some purpose. With a well-placed shoulder shove, I got them out of my way to discover a cleared area in the middle. "Well now isn't this interesting," I muttered.

"I'd say you found their nest."

I looked to my right to see Sam standing in one of the three routes they'd set up to get in and out of their camp. "Falcon," I acknowledged. "Why here though?" I asked mostly of myself. I looked over the area making note of anything and everything. The power and computer links all rigged to come up from the floor. They'd been in every cubicle, but here they looked different. "Thompkins, I need you."

"On my way, Gold leader."

"You got something, kiddo?" Sam never could seem to call me by name on a mission, least not once the threat had passed. I didn't mind all that much, except when my team could overhear as they would never let me forget it.

"Maybe. Need Thompkins to look at it."

The woman in question, along with two others, appeared their heads poking over another blocked area. Sam assisted and shoved the cubicle parts aside so they could join us. "S'up boss?"

"Internet connections look different here. Think you can tell me why?"

Thompkins grinned. "Your wish is my command." She went to the connections, tablet coming out and went to work.

"How pissed is the Captain?" I asked of Sam off comms.

He choked. "How you always manage such understatements still amazes me."

I shrugged. I had a decent handle on Steve and his moods. Pissed not precisely accurate, frustrated would be closer to the truth. And for him, it manifested as anger. He tried to hide it, but we all knew when to stay out of his way.

"Ooo, these guys were pretty good."

"What you got, Thompkins," Sam asked, taking an interest in the trio hovering around the cables in the floor.

"This connection is unique, Hydra tech from the looks of it."

"Big shocker there. Is it useful?"

Thompkins kept tapping her screen. "I can't tell you what they were doing here, but with a little creativity I can trace their signal to the most recent set of servers used and from there-"

"You can snag their ISP and track where they'd been playing in the 'net. Excellent." I glanced over at Sam who gave me a tight nod, seemingly satisfied with the lead we'd discovered.

"That's weird," Thompkins muttered.

"Report."

"And odd signal buried in the line. I'm trying to track it- Oh shit."

I shifted to look over her shoulder. "Show me."

She handed the tablet over and I took a look at the data on the screen. In less than thirty seconds I knew that while we'd been dead on finding Rumlow's hideout that we'd also been played. I tapped the comms. "Clear the building. Now."

"Kiddo?" Sam questioned, giving me a concerned look.

I urged my people up and towards the nearest escape route through this damn maze we'd found ourselves in. "Place is rigged to blow," I told him as I grabbed his arm and shoved him ahead of me. "Where's Cap?"

"Downstairs." He headed for the stairs that my teammates already pounded their way down. We had four floors and at least fifty yards to get out of the building. Not in the clear, just outside. I pointed at the windows. "Go. Get everyone you can in the clear."

"And you?"

"I'll find Cap." I ran for the stairs and moments later heard glass break as Falcon smashed his way out of the building. I rushed down the stairs trying to contact Steve the entire time. Either his comms were down or been lost, neither of which made sense. I heard from each of my team as they made their way outside. When I hit the floor Cap had last been seen on my comms died in a screech of static. The entire floor pitch dark and yet another maze. I flipped on my shoulder lamp and went looking for my Captain. "Rogers," I shouted, only to find my voice muffled instead of echoing the way it had on the other floors.

"God damn it," I groused. "I pulled down my goggles and flipped them to IR. Less than ten seconds later I had him. A dozen yards deeper in. I charged forward, somehow managed to not trip over the junk piled everywhere until I could see him standing there in the dark, no light and staring down at something on the floor.

I flipped the IR up. "Captain," I barked.

His head snapped about. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be-"

"The place is rigged to blow, we need to get out of here." I skidded to a halt next to him, noting he held a file in his hand and that a half dozen others lay nearly on the desk before him. I glanced at them, noting they were SHIELD files and then up at him. "Comms are being jammed on this level. We need to go."

He frowned deeply, crushing the file in his hand. "He baited me."

I didn't argue, the sand in that proverbial hourglass quickly running out. "Steve-"

The rumbling sound started from far below us, I could feel the energy ripple upward through the vertical beams holding this structure together. I oriented quickly, the stairwell behind and to my left and probably soon to be filled with flames and smoke. The windows almost straight ahead and far closer. The trip to the ground would be short and fast, but potentially survivable if I could just get Steve out of his own head for a moment.

I surged forward, grasped the shield harness on his chest and dragged him towards our only real option for escape. The windows on this floor had been blacked out with paint or something similar that we hadn't even been aware of when we'd done out recon of the place from the outside. Ah, reflective surfaces, excellent for hiding behind. Although in this case, it might just get me dead.

I lifted my gun and fired at the glass only to immediately regret it as the bullets did little more than chip the paint, which I now suspected to be something else entirely, off the surface permitting tiny pinholes of light into the room.

Me firing my gun on full auto seemed to drag him back to the here and now. Which turned out to be a good thing as the rumble had reached us and the floor began collapsing in the center of the room where he had been standing mere moments prior.

"Run."

I didn't argue and ran straight towards the window, as we neared he wrapped his left arm firmly about my waist, raised the shield on his right before us and slammed straight into the window I'd been using for target practice. The glass broke this time, the vibranium forcing the impact to reflect back onto the ever so slightly weakened surface and shattering it outward.

We followed.

In midair, he rotated so that both he and the shield would be between me and the ground, which I could see fast approaching. He could see what took place behind us, making his eyes go wide in surprise.

The impact from the threeish story fall more than enough to knock the wind out of me, but before I could convince my diaphragm to unclench and draw in a breath, my Captain rolled, once again placing the shield and his body between me and what he already knew to be coming. I caught a glimpse of flames and huge pieces of concrete being pulled towards us faster than gravity could have managed on its own before the shield blocked my view. His body pressed on top of mine, eyes watching me filled with concern and anger. Though I doubted the anger to be directed at me this time.

And then it hit. the first few pieces pinging off the shield and away like rain or hailstones during a violent storm. Then the shield rang like a church bell, deep and resonant causing Cap to grunt in actual effort. After that it all I heard was dull thuds that caused the ground beneath my back to shudder violently; the light fading first due to dust and then because so much debris had fallen about us that we could no longer see the sun.

He somehow managed to arch up a bit, carving a tiny space out for the two of us. My shoulder lamp had gone out at some point leaving us in a darkness deeper than the one we had just fled from. My lungs suddenly decided to work again and I sucked in a breath filled with dust and smoke and of course in reaction instantly began to cough. I tried to lift my left hand to cover my mouth only to discover it had been caught under something. I tugged, freeing it by tearing a section of the sleeve off.

"Shit. Sorry."

I felt him shift, then a hand traveled up my arm to find the light and switch it on; all his weight on the elbow as he did so. He flinched away at the brightness, the rubble atop his back shifting ever so slightly much to my dismay.

"Easy. I'm pretty certain you're the only reason that mess hasn't collapsed on us."

"You'd be right." His head dropped down, clearly marking him as tired, though not about to give up.

I reached out that freed left hand to cup his cheek, noting the glove had been shredded, kevlar lined or not, but my fingers, while scraped up appeared to be intact. "You can do this and I can pretty much guarantee they'll be working on getting us out ASAP."

Just then, as if in affirmation of my statement, the comms crackled to life.

"Cap? Kiddo? You alive?"

Since Cap's arms were otherwise occupied I tapped mine, with my free hand, and responded, "We're alive and intact, mostly. Though the Captain would probably appreciate not having to hold up all the rubble to keep me from being crushed."

"Working on it," Sam assured me. "Is Cap's comms out?"

I had no clue so I asked the man in question. "Your comms offline?"

"Fell out, I think." His voice low and rough from the strain. The rubble above us shifted suddenly, dust and debris filtering down. Cap grunted and dropped several inches, his weight on my lower body and my face damn near pressed into his chest.

"Sam," I squawked, "stop."

"Can't, kiddo. I've got you two on IR and this is the only feasible route in. And, yeah, it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

I sighed, trying to not draw in too deep a breath as it would cause me to cough, which would probably end with me passing out due to the pressure on my chest. I tipped my head up slightly, recognizing the scent of crushed grass as I did so, my face now in the gap at his neck. He swallowed noticeably, the shoulder light not giving either of us much of a view at the moment.

"You know, I've wanted to get you in this position for a while now, but this wasn't quite how I pictured it."

Sam barked in amusement, while the rest of the team went into howls of laughter followed by oooooos of delight. "Girl, your comms are still live."

I grinned, fully aware of that fact.

Above me, Steve went startlingly still and for a moment and I thought I had pushed things too far, but then, much to my chagrin, he said, "Me either."

He carefully moved so that he could look me in the eye. I lay there in shock that he, that Steve Rogers, had even hinted that he'd wanted me. Really wanted me. No matter what had been said that day I'd woken up or those that had followed our relationship had not changed overmuch. A few more personal moments, fewer actually alone. Not a date, not a chance for more than a peck on the cheek or forehead now and then. But I understood. We had busy lives and saving the world came first. Always.

"Uh, I have no response that isn't entirely impossible at the moment."

He chuckled and I followed suit, both of us laughing at both the situation and the revelation that had been brought to the light by it.

By the time we wound down I found it hard to breathe, which had me concerned, yet I didn't mention anything to him. That would force him to act, instead of remaining passive and wait for the rescue we both knew to be coming.

Still, he lowered his head, nose running along mine as thoughts about being this close in far more comfortable surroundings with a lot less body armor assaulted my mind.

So his next words surprised me. "Sorry. This is all my fault."

I wheezed. "How do you figure that?"

"I got distracted and if it hadn't been for you-"

"Steve, we're fine. You're fine. I'm just glad I got to you in time." I panted to halt, his face spinning above me.

"Myla?"

"Lightheaded," I told him, voice faint even to my ears.

"Then stop talking."

I gave him a tight nod and did my best to slow my breathing, not that it would make much difference. When the air ran out I'd be the only one in serious trouble. He'd survived seventy years frozen, I doubted a few minutes without air would cause him any trouble. Me, on the other hand, would be quite dead.

Still, it didn't take long for feeling lightheaded to change into wanting to pass out and he quickly realized my situation was deteriorating quickly. Sam had been talking in my ear, but I'd been unable to pass the info along to Steve.

"Where's your comms?"

I rotated my head and felt him remove the earwig. I let my eyes drift shut, the world spinning madly about me even though I saw nothing. Reminded me of some of the more impressive drunks I'd been on.

"Sam, hurry up, we're losing air in here."

I didn't hear the response, of course, didn't really care too much either, just kind of wanted to take a nice little nap about now, which would, you know, conserve that air that had gone lacking, even though some niggling concern in the back of my mind assured me it would be the last thing I ever did were I to actually drift under. Steve pressed against me, a powerful presence that grounded at least part of me to the here and now. His fingers tracing along my cheek in a vain effort to prevent me from drifting away from him.

I tried to assure him I had no intentions of going anywhere but the universe twisted about me and the next thing I became aware of was shouts, bright light and some annoying thing on my face which I batted away with a grumble of irritation.

Then I abruptly proceeded to cough a metric ton of dust out of my lungs followed by a whooping intake of air. I blinked owlishly, my head pounding like the worst hangover ever and stared up at the face of Steve, who wore a look of such relief that I could only wonder what had happened in those moments I'd missed.

The oxygen mask was unceremoniously shoved back on my face, which did seem to help with the whole coughing thing. I noticed my helmet had been removed and the jacket had been stripped off, leaving me in the form-fitting compression tee beneath. A blood pressure cuff had been wrapped around one arm and a heart rate monitor stuck on a finger.

"How do you feel?"

I glanced at our medic who shot me a warning glare and shifted the O2 mask only enough to answer, "Head hurts," before swiftly replacing it.

"Hypoxia will do that to you," Sam informed me, which meant I'd been without air for too long. Taking note of the soreness to my chest I suspected I'd been given CPR as well.

The Captain didn't say a word, just watched me with that worried blue-eyed gaze. I tried to give him a smile of reassurance, but either he didn't see it or didn't believe it.

Carter flashed a penlight in my eyes and grunted. "You'll live. Broke some blood vessels in your eyes, so you'll have that horror movie vibe for a few days, but that's it other than some scrapes and bruises."

I looked up at my Captain, trying to say, 'see, I'm fine,' with my eyes alone when I saw the edge of a file folder tucked into his jacket. I would bet dollars to doughnuts it was the same one he'd had in his hand when I'd found him. Which meant... which meant he would place all the blame on his own shoulders even though none of it had been. Rumlow had been the cause of all this, we'd simply done our jobs and got caught out. It happened.

"Captain-"

He shook his head at me and turned away.

"Locals are on the way," Sam informed me. "We'll need to coordinate with them to keep the fire from spreading. We'll get you moved into the quinjet as soon as you're deemed stable."

"I'd give it another ten minutes," Carter told him. "Her O2 saturation still isn't great."

Sam nodded. "You two, with me and the Captain."

They glanced at me first, which I appreciated, but I gave them the go ahead. Ultimately, even though I was the team leader, we all answered to Sam and the Captain.

. . .

They turned me loose from the infirmary after only a couple of hours. Mostly due to my stubborn ass bitching I felt fine and threatening to prove it. I mean, yeah I'd stopped breathing for a while, but hadn't actually died or anything.

My team would be off rotation for a few days as we filed our reports and tried to figure out what had gone wrong on the op.

I went back to the pod, cleaned up and put on civvies, most certainly not on duty for the next little while. My team had pretty much done the same, scattering about the Compound in an effort to relax after an unexpectedly hard day.

I debated the merits of paperwork for all of ten seconds before heading to the mess hall intending to get a bite to eat but, after glancing around the mostly empty room, instead grabbed a pair of to go coffees.

I went to Steve's suite.

I didn't even bother checking with FRIDAY. I knew he would be there.

I pressed the door signal with an elbow and it opened almost immediately and I had to wonder if FRIDAY had ratted me out. I'd been here a few times before, even been inside, but never for long. All of our interactions in public, which made sense I supposed. Dating in the forties had been vastly different from the Netflix and chill of today.

I had to admit to appreciating his efforts at treating me like the lady I so would never be and always being a gentleman, but after the surprise revelation of today wondered if maybe I should have pushed his boundaries a bit more.

Not tonight though. This would be anything but a booty call. I'd seen the look in his eyes when I'd come to and noted his lack of presence at the infirmary, which meant, this time, Steve Rogers had blamed himself for my injuries.

I did not.

But I hadn't come to change his mind like so many others had probably tried to do.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

My answer involved holding up his cup of joe and waving it under his nose. His eyes narrowed for a moment, but he grudgingly took it and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter his not so humble abode.

I heard the door click shut as I sipped on my latte. His black with two sugars, the way he always took it, but I made certain it had the fancy dark roast I knew he preferred. I headed for the living room, intending to flop on his couch when I saw all the files scattered across the coffee table. He had both a laptop and tablet running, each a separate search from what I could tell at a quick glance. The file dead center looked like it had been recently crushed then painstakingly smoothed out, the older manilla file darkened with age and much handling.

I set the cup down and picked the file up. The words all done in Cyrillic letters, which I hadn't read in quite some time. Oh, I could speak Russian fluently, but reading it took serious skill. Still, it took mere seconds to pull up that virtual file in my mind and the letters went from undecipherable doodles to words, and sentences, and paragraphs all about one man: The Winter Soldier.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

Steve yanked the file from my hands, an actual scowl adorning his features. "This is not something you need to worry about," he rumbled at me, leaning over to close all the other files still open.

It didn't take a genius to know who they were about. "It is if it's distracting you on ops."

He shot a glare at me, but I held my ground, not about to let him chase me away when it had become acutely clear he needed someone to talk to.

He tapped the one file, the only one that had survived the explosion earlier. "Rumlow left these for me to find. Knew I wouldn't be able to resist even if it meant screwing up the rest of the op."

"Steve, you didn't screw anything up. Thompkins got the lead we hoped for and you got more info on your friend." I waved at the lone file. "We didn't get Rumlow, but we went in knowing that the chances were slim. This might get you closer to finding him."

Steve blinked. "How the hell do you know all that?"

His personal hunt for the AWOL Winter Soldier had never been a secret, but it also didn't involve anyone beyond him and Sam for the most part. He used Avenger resources but always went looking on his own time. "I listen and I remember." I shrugged then gently took the files from him and set them neatly on the coffee table. I sat down on the sofa, reached out to wrap my hand around his and said, "Tell me about him."

He snorted. "Right 'cause you haven't memorized every detail already," he sneered, yet he didn't move, didn't pull his hand away from mine the look in his eyes suggesting he waited on me, on the right response before considering my suggestion worthy of his attention.

"Sure, I know everything the history books, both civilian and military have to offer, but that isn't what I asked about." When he seemed unconvinced I tugged on his hand to encourage him to sit beside me. "Tell me about your friend, please."

His eyes changed, that haunted weariness lifting like the sun breaking through a thick fog. He gave me a nod and talked. For hours. Stories of his youth. Stories from the war. Tidbits and anecdotes I knew no one aside from those involved had ever heard before.

Although thoroughly enthralled with the tales it had been an exceedingly long day and my eyes grew heavy and I apparently drifted off somewhere during a tale of the Howling Commandos stealing eggs and milk from a local farm.

I twitched awake, fire and smoke from a war I had never seen filling my mind, the impact of a bullet to my chest jerking me back to awareness.

"Whoa there, you're fine." Steve's hand gently held me in place.

I found my head resting on his thigh, his hand moving from my shoulder to caress my cheek. "Ah, shit. Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"Old stories from an old man, of course, they put you to sleep." Thankfully there was a hint of a grin on his lips and mischief in his eyes.

Still, I refused to permit him to think anything he'd said had been boring or uninteresting."Christ, you are so self-deprecating." I sat up, his hand not moving other than to cup the cheek instead. "I want to hear more. Every story you are willing to tell. The reports and files have no life to them and what you and Sergeant Barnes went through deserves to be remembered as more than historical records."

His eyes went wide. "Sometimes I almost believe you mean what you say."

I drew back with a huff of indignation. "Wow. Didn't know I had a reputation for being dishonest." The realization caused an unexpected ache in me. I knew the attraction between us had been unplanned and that he had trouble putting how he felt into words, but to all but accuse me of playing him hurt. When I tried to pull away, fully intending to head back to my room and my bed and not bother the great and powerful Captain America any longer, he moved his hand to my shoulder and stopped me cold. Using that strength to keep me in place.

"I did not say that anywhere near close to right." He leaned forward and kissed me. Not some quick peck on the forehead. Not a brushing of his lips upon mine, but an actual for real kiss. Lips parting, tongue darting out to encourage me to open mine, insanely strong arms wrapping around me with a gentleness I hadn't thought possible. I took it as an apology and sat back to enjoy the ride.

By the time we came up for air, we were sprawled on the sofa, him atop me reminiscent of the events of earlier today... or yesterday by this point I imagined. "Umm, yes, much better without the debris and threat of imminent death literally above us."

He burst out in delighted laughter, throwing his head back for a long moment until he wound down to chuckles, head tipping back down until buried against the side of my neck, his body still shaking in amusement even as his teeth found skin to nip at.

As a distraction, it worked. I sucked in a breath and arched at the entirely unexpected contact. That only seemed to encourage him, which I didn't mind one little bit. My hands found their way under his shirt, shifting it up to expose the tight muscles to the air of the room. He shivered as I dug my fingers in, permitting me to feel the flex and flow of him. I didn't use nails, doubting he'd want to be marked up in front of trainees come tomorrow, but I had the need to make my claim upon him known to others. Weird for me, but all I could do was acknowledge the urge while resisting acting upon it.

His lips found their way to mine, this kiss possessive and needy. He pulled away suddenly and I could only wonder what he saw given the sudden look of concern in his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, almost sounding embarrassed.

I blinked. "For what?"

"You need rest, not... not..."

"You? Provided you don't go all supersoldier on me I can handle it. Though it would be interesting to explain to the docs how and in what position you broke me."

He got this momentary look of horror on his face which, thankfully, dissolved into amusement. "You..." He trailed off appearing flustered.

I had no clue what he was trying to say. "Steve, you can talk to me about anything." I cupped his cheek, enjoying the feel of his day old stubble. I utterly refused to imagine the feel of it upon other areas of my body. More, I did not close my eyes and bite my lip thinking about it for an instant.

"I know. I just... You challenge me and... and I like that."

"Well, someone's got to. You've had it too easy all these years." I made certain to keep my tone light, so he could be certain that while the truth it also had been meant to tease.

He chuckled, his pupils dilating in the warm light of the room. "Keep it up then."

His lips found the hollow of my throat as a distraction, but I couldn't resist my next words. "Thought that was your job." I shifted my hips to emphasize my point just in case the innuendo had been lost on him.

Based on the look in his eyes when his head snapped up, it hadn't. "Stay tonight."

I swallowed with some difficulty and a delicious heat radiated through me at his not so subtle overture. Still, the smartass in me couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut. "I don't know, what have you got to offer?"

He shifted up onto his arms, one eyebrow quirked high on his forehead, while I just lay there waiting with a challenging smirk on my face. When he stood up I feared I had pushed too hard this time, but all he did was remove his shirt and toss it away.

Mind you, I'd seen the man in skin tight work out wear, sometimes as little as a sweaty A-line, but never fully shirtless and boy howdy was it magnificent. I would completely deny goggling at him, but the amusement in his eyes at my reaction pretty much decried that.

"Like what you see?" He sounded oddly disappointed in me.

I nodded and pushed myself into a seated position. "Yes. Why, shouldn't I?"

He glanced around the room as if wondering where his shirt had landed so he could put it back on. "Of course, you should," he muttered, "it's the best our government could buy."

I snapped to my feet; a hand on the center of his chest. "No. This," I tapped my fingers lightly, "was always here."

He shivered, then set a hand over mine, causing my fingers to still their movement. "What do you mean?"

"Erskine's formula just made you the best version, right?"

He nodded slowly. "That's the theory."

"That means this," I took the time to really look him over, permitting my gaze to linger here and there and admire the beauty of the man before me, "had always been within you. Even when five foot nothing and one hundred pounds, this was there." I tipped my head up to meet his eyes. "You have always been this person, nothing will change that."

I must have said the right words because the next thing I knew he'd flung me over his shoulder all caveman style and strode briskly deeper into his suite. When he set me on his bed it was with an unexpected gentleness.

We didn't say much after that.