He'd expected a trap. The ghosts never brought him anything but pain and he'd seen what came from giving trust a chance. Hell, he couldn't even trust himself. Fury had seemed real enough, but he hadn't exactly tried to hide his agenda. Another person who wanted to manipulate him, to use him, to send him after their enemies. After Hydra. That part he didn't mind so much. And so far Fury's intel had been good.

He crouched on the ridge above the base, using the trees for cover. His escape had given him the opportunity to resupply – weapons, cash, even a vehicle. Sighting along the scope of his new precision rifle, he scanned the cluster of buildings below. The first two locations on Fury's list had been small – half a dozen agents in a safe house outside D.C., a farm hiding a Hydra weapons lab. Neither one had given him much trouble.

But this was something else. The compound had been built into the mountain and, according to Fury's blueprints, extended deep underground. Once, it had belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd seen enough of the news stories to know that meant it had been Hydra's all along. It wasn't a comforting thought.

Resting the gun against his knee, he sighed. Things were different now, even he could sense that. There was no plan, no one in control. The war had gone underground. It was being fought player-by-player, piece-by-piece. But underground was where he lived. And it was hard to get thrown off balance when you'd started out that way.

He reached out for the ghosts and found them waiting, eager. They'd been with him at the safe house, whispering to him as he breached the door. They'd followed him to the farm, trailing him across the field as he left the barn burning behind him. For a little while, they'd gone quiet. But it was never enough. And it didn't stop the dreams. In fact, they were getting worse.

He pinched shut his eyes. How long had it been since he slept? He knew better than this, knew that he'd need to be alert to have any hope of making it out of the compound below. But that was the point. He knew that now. The more the ghosts came to him, the less he slept. The less he slept, the more the world blurred. And one day it would cost him.

They would have their revenge, but it would never be over, not as long as he was able to walk away. He hadn't seen any activity below, but who knew what might be lurking in the tunnels beneath the mountain. There was only one way this mission ended. The question was how much of Hydra he'd be taking with him.

His hand strayed to his pocket, to the envelope Fury had given him. The guy knew what he was doing. There'd been a list of objectives, sure, but that hadn't been the bait. The rest had been personal – abbreviated files, service records, even some of Hydra's own documents about the Winter Soldier project. Was Fury trying to goad him? Did he really think he needed reminding? He knew what they'd done, couldn't close his eyes without seeing it again.

Picking up the gun, he scanned the buildings again. There was movement on the north side now, a pair of sentries patrolling the perimeter. Only two guards for a facility this size. Either Hydra had pulled out, or it really was a trap. A betting man would pick the latter.

The ghosts were whispering again, the ache throbbing behind his eyes. It would be easy enough to sneak past the patrol, but that's not why he was here. They were Hydra. Finger ready on the trigger, he steadied his aim. He had the shot.

Before he could fire, the first guard dropped out of sight. He adjusted, searching for the other, centering him in the crosshairs just in time to see a fist connect with his jaw. Someone else was down there. Someone had beaten him to the punch.

The second guard fell as quickly as the first. Squinting through the scope, he saw why. They'd never stood a chance.

Captain America pressed his back against the wall, checking his shield as he scouted around the corner. Steve. His head whipped around, searching, calculating, looking everywhere but at the ridge. From the look of it, he was alone. But it wouldn't be the first Hydra base he'd stormed without backup.

Gritting his teeth, he drew a ragged breath. For a moment the memory had seemed so clear, but now it was slipping through his fingers, twisting and changing. Another life, another man, another mission. So many missions.

He followed Rogers' progress through the outbuildings, watching through the scope, unable to look away. His head was pounding, the gun heavy in his hands, his finger tensing on the trigger. Soon enough Rogers found his entrance. As he put a hand on the door, his eyes flitted upward, the crosshairs centered between them.

"Hey!"

He barely had time to see Rogers duck inside before something slammed into him from behind. The gun jerked in his hands, the shot echoing above the base. But then he was pitching over the edge of the ridge, falling again, the ground rushing up to meet him. No, not falling. Flying. Something caught him beneath the arms, grunting for the weight as it banked over the compound.

He pulled his sidearm, aiming upward, but suddenly up became down, the world spinning as they cartwheeled through the air.

"Nuh-uh. Not this time. I go down, you're going with me."

The bird man. They'd fought before, on the airships. Another ghost who refused to stay dead.

But the shot had alerted the base, as if the sight of two men spiraling toward the ground beneath a pair of metal wings wasn't enough. More guards were streaming out of the buildings below them, though the part of the compound where he'd lost Rogers still seemed quiet.

"Damn it!" He scowled up at the man above him. "Look what you did!"

"You really think I was gonna let you take that shot?" He banked hard, avoiding the first volley of gunfire from below.

"I wasn't—!" The next roll brought bile surging into his throat. It was all he could do to pull his second pistol. So far the guy had managed to keep them out of the line of fire, but even he could tell that the weight was too much. They were spiraling lower.

The bird man had seen the guns. "You want me to drop you?"

"Just tell me you can keep it steady."

Another hail of bullets ripped past them.

"Not if you don't wanna get shot."

"Maybe I can do something about that. Get closer. And don't freakin' drop me!"

The bird man tightened his grip on him and dove lower, gathering speed. He unloaded both pistols, dropping half a dozen guards on their first pass. Another turn and a mid-air reload later, Hydra was diving for cover. It was a good start, but it was time to get his feet back on the ground.

He didn't need to tell the pilot. He lined the drop up perfectly, letting him go just above a startled guard, his boots connecting with the man's chest. As the guard fell, he saw him land behind him, his wings retracting. More guards were rushing toward them. He wanted to tell the guy to go, to take off again, that he had this. But as he watched, the pilot pulled a blade, deftly dodging the first guard's punch.

Not bad.

He emptied the last of his clips before switching to his own knives. Hydra was circling around, coming in close, forcing him and the pilot to fight back-to-back. He didn't have time to think about it, didn't have time to wonder when he'd feel that blade between his shoulders. There was only the fight – the rhythm of dodge and slash, the ache in his temples subsiding beneath the thrill of violence. Hydra wanted to turn this into a brawl. That suited him just fine.

More guards were falling at his feet, but then he heard the curse, felt the pilot stagger back against him. His knife had been knocked away, clattering across the ground. Without thinking, he tossed one of his own blades behind him, smiling as the bird man snagged it from the air and drove it into his opponent's shoulder.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

What guards remained were falling back, retreating into the tunnels. Rogers was still down there, along with god knew what else.

The pilot was watching him warily. He was still holding the borrowed knife, weighing his chances. "You know, I'd actually hoped he was right about you."

He ignored him, turning his back and moving amongst the fallen guards, gathering what weapons and ammo he could. Nudging one with his boot, he crouched, helping himself to the man's grenades.

There was a click behind him. "Can't let you do that."

The guy was brave, he had to give him that. The bird man had pulled a gun and was aiming it at his back, keeping him in his sights as he rose slowly and turned around.

"Can't let me do what, exactly?"

"Whatever it is you're doing." He shook his head, eyes narrowing. "You know how long he's been looking for you? How many places we've been? He's been so sure, so hopeful… and now you've gone and done this."

"What? Saving your ass?"

"Really? Guess it wasn't me that caught you when you fell off that cliff."

"That you knocked me off of."

"After you took a shot at Steve." The guy was defensive, angry. And, worst of all, that loyalty was strangely familiar.

"I didn't."

"Man, I saw you!"

"I was just… watching. Covering him, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yeah. I guess. And then you bumped me. Maybe you wanted me to take the shot."

They stared at each other, the pilot still holding the gun steady between them. After a long moment, he lowered it, shaking his head. "He talks about you a lot, you know. But he never mentioned you were an idiot."

"Hey."

He gestured to the fallen guards. "But I'm guessing this means you're not on Hydra's payroll anymore."

"No."

"So… what? You're one of the good guys now? Bucky Barnes, war hero?"

"Not exactly." One of the guards was stirring at his feet. Spinning his knife between his fingers, he plunged it down into the man's throat.

"That's real comforting."

"So you're Rogers' backup?"

The guy actually stood a little straighter. "Yeah."

"And what's the mission?"

"I told you – looking for you. But Hydra's dug in deep here. Figured we'd find out why."

"By sending Rogers in alone."

"You say that like I could have stopped him."

He chuckled without fully knowing why, smirking down at the ground. When he looked up, the pilot was smiling with him.

"I know we met before, but maybe we should give this another try." He offered his hand. "Sam Wilson."

He stared down at it. Then he turned away, making his way between the buildings in the direction Rogers had gone.

Wilson called after him. "What're you gonna do?"

"Something idiotic."