The helicarriers are in the air and shooting at them before Carol and Sam know it. Sam dodges, swipes his wings left and right and ducks when Carol calls out, but she's sending out blasts whenever she can get them in, taking out guns along all three carriers. Steve's shouting something on the comm, but she can't hear it over the rush of air and cannonfire.

"Fuck it," Carol thinks, stops in midair and swan-dives onto the middle of the landing pad. She's crouched on her knees when she lands, the concrete cracking beneath her fists, and she makes a menacing sight with her red cowl and flight goggles to any who venture near.

One man laughs, raises his gun, but he's swiftly kicked off of the side of the helicarrier, and two more men follow. She doesn't need guns like Sam. She's shit at shooting anyway. But Carol does feel a certain thrill when she jumps off the edge of the platform, suspended in the air for a moment before her flight kicks in and she's crashing through the glass dome beneath the helicarrier.

"That was easy," she laughs into her comm. "Wouldn't it suck if I lost my chip in the middle of all that?" Her eyes widen as the thought registers, and she could vaguely hear Maria—they're on a first-name basis now because she quite likes the woman—screaming at her over the comm to not be a total fuck-up to the operation, please. But the blade is secure inside her glove sleeve, and when she says so aloud, Maria gives an audible sigh.

"Come on, boys, you're supposed to be superheroes," she taunts into the comm as she pops the blade into its compartment. She can hear Hill commending her and she swiftly jumps off deck and into the air once more.

"Not all of us are immune to bullet wounds," Steve pants, but she can hear the grin in his voice.

"Or have the uncanny ability to fly without bionic wi—fuck, I'm hit!"

"Dammit, Sam," Carol sees him struggling in the air, his one wing flapping uselessly against the fall. "I got you." She swoops down, catches him gently under the arms, but the momentum carries her into the SHIELD building, and they go crashing through the windows.
"Fuck," Sam groans, picks out a piece of glass embedded in his arm. "I should've worn sleeves. Here's the chip, Danvers. You go get 'em."

She nods, grabs the blade and is out the window the next second, soaring high and fast. "I resent that I'm doing more work that both Cap and Sam," she speaks over the roar of the wind, dodges two hits, but is taken down by the third. She lands into the side of a helicarrier—and not the one she's supposed to be on dammit—and is back in the air a moment later. The second carrier is harder to dispatch than the first, and she's hit more times than she can count. Her body's sore, and her limbs ache underneath her suit. She pulls through it, stands on the edge of the platform and presses a finger to the walkie in her ear.

"Cap, what's your status?"

There's silence on the comm.

"Cap?"

"The Soldier's up there," Natasha's voice says, shaky over the comm. Carol blanches because she's never heard the Russian assassin sound so frightened. "You gotta help him."

"And interrupt their bonding time?" She can't help but quip.

"Danvers—"

"Yeah, yeah, take a joke," Carol's flying through the air once more.

Suddenly, there's an explosion—or rather, multiple explosions—and she has to dodge falling metal debris from either side of her.

"Natasha, what the fuck?"

It's Hill that answers. "He told me to do it," there are tears in her voice, and Carol feels the wind get knocked out of her. "He did it, but he's still up there with the Soldier. You need to save him Carol."

She steadies herself, says "I will," or maybe she doesn't, she can't be sure, because she's flying faster than she's ever flown before, and she can barely hear herself think over the rush of wind in her ears. She's hit by metal more times than she can count, but she ignores it—ignores the pain—because no way is Captain Steve Rogers dying on her watch, no way am I letting Gramps down like this, the old man'll rise from the grave and kick my ass.

She almost doesn't notice the mangled remains of the rapidly falling helicarrier, but when she does, Carol chokes on a cry. She can't see Steve or the soldier anywhere, can only see sparks and metal and fire and all three helicarriers are crashing around her but she barely notices.

And then she sees them. Out of the corner of her eye, there is movement on the shore of the Potomac. She wastes no time, races across the river, dodging glass and metal and people. The Soldier—Bucky, she reminds herself—falls into a defensive stance when she lands next to them, but she barely spares him a glance. Carol kneels before Steve, checks his pulse because Captain America cannot be dead, sighs in relief when she feels it fluttering beneath her gloved fingers. She takes Steve's face in her hands, presses her forehead against his because she's so relieved right now. She turns to Bucky, to thank him or tackle him and take him into custody, she doesn't know, and she supposes she's thankful that he's not there anymore; she didn't think she'd be able to make that decision on her own.

:::

Steve's in a hospital bed, Sam tucked away safely beside him. Natasha's off somewhere creating a new identity for herself—to be honest, she had no idea what the assassin had said, she tends to tune people out when they start conversations by insulting her ability to keep certain super soldiers safe. Maria Hill now works in the Stark Industries Customer Service division—Carol had to call Tony herself and berate him for it, but apparently he didn't like the woman very much, and she assured Carol she didn't mind. Fury was off the grid, but that morning she'd received a note in her apartment that merely said, "Good work." Carol wasn't sure if she was pissed that he broke in so easily or thankful that he hadn't harmed Chewie in any way. The cat already had to put up with enough of her shit.

All was well, she sighed as she walked through the halls of the Smithsonian. Steve would recover in a few weeks, as would Sam, and the two would continue with their search for James Buchanan Barnes. And Carol… well, maybe she'd join them. After all, they could use a fellow amnesiac.

Carol smirked to herself, her eyes flitting over to the exhibit dedicated to Captain America's best friend. Her smirk fell.

Shit.

:::

Idk if I should continue with this one or just write a sequel. I do know that from here on out it's all gonna be in Bucky's point of view. That's all folks!