Flying through the air: Not my favorite. I just had this imprint of Steve's horrified face as I got pulled out the window. Let me clarify; through a fucking window. Then I was being held against someone, my face pressed into their neck. Their very enticing neck. I pulled back slightly, cursing the thought of how hot this guy was. He had a weird mask thing on and his shoulder length hair was blown off his face. Despite the situation, I suddenly felt very calm, as if Steve were the one holding me and I knew I wasn't going to be harmed. This man holding me with a metal arm, not letting me see his face was somehow familiar to me; and for some reason, I trusted him.

Then he shifted me to the other arm and slammed his metal one through the windshield. I was pretty sure that I had yet to stop screaming, but my blood froze when he came back with the steering wheel. I think I heard Sam say something as this man threw the wheel away and grabbed me around the waist again.

"Sam!" I yelled as gun shots came through the roof. Then there was that blasted flying through the air again. But even then, as this man was obviously trying to kill three of my friends (I was friends with Black Widow! What!), I wasn't afraid for my life. We landed on the hood of the hummer with a jerk. My fingers were linked around his neck, his hair skimming over the backs of my hands as it blew backwards from the speed of the car. I was pulled back to the present situation when the Hummer slammed into the back of Sam's car again. The Winter Soldier, 'cause I had made that connection, grabbed the hood with his metal arm and me with his other. Sam's cruise slammed into the center divider and started to flip.

"STEVE!" Now, I'm not sure why yelling someone's name helps, but literally they were the only words coming out of my mouth. The grip around my waist tightened and I looked back to the mask. He was still so familiar. Then my eye caught the three humans sledding down the freeway. The hummer passed them, steering into the center divider and stopping. The solider hopped down with me in his arms like he walks on the freeway every day, cause you know that's a thing apparently. As soon as my feet hit the concrete I turned, trying to run to see if Steve was ok. I was stopped by a cold strong grip on my wrist. I turned back to look at him as he handed me off to someone who had climbed out of the back seat.

I was incredibly confused. I was sure, from what I had heard and witnessed, that this man didn't care if he hurt or killed people; innocent or not. But for some reason, he was keeping me from harm. It didn't make any sense, and if I could just see his eyes, maybe I could see something there. He said something, presumably in Russian and as he spoke, the feeling of familiarity intensified. I was exchanged for a very large gun which he pointed down the freeway and fired.

I turned in time to see Steve shove Natasha out of the way, taking the hit on his shield. Again, shouting his name really wasn't going to help here, but I did, trying to break free from the guy holding me, to get to my best friend. Who had just gone flying off the side of the freeway. That was when I froze. I knew Steve was basically indestructible, but flying off a freeway had to be damaging to anyone. The Solider and the three other guys who had gotten out of the car were calming walking down the freeway firing machine guns.

I was still frozen in place, the image of Steve still replying in front of my eyes. Natasha shot a single bullet from behind some car.

"Crista! He's fine. Run!" I wasn't sure what most of those words meant at the moment but at her voice I looked over to her before the Soldier fired another round at the car behind which she was hiding. About 4 seconds later, she went flying over the other side of the freeway as the Soldier fired another round. Damn they were dropping like flies. I wasn't sure where Sam had rolled off to but I hoped he was safe. I was moving, I realized that. The guy holding me pulled me up next to the Soldier who grabbed a machine gun and pointed it over the side, waiting to kill my other friend, or acquaintance, or whatever we were. My keeper let me go and I looked over to the Soldier. That was when I felt the tears running down my face. I hadn't even realized I had started crying.

"Please stop." I whispered. He looked over at me, just as a bullet hit his glasses. I had enough time to see Natasha alive before I was yanked down with the Soldier. He reached up, removed his glasses and looked at me with startling sea green eyes. Eyes that I happened to know look awesome by firelight.

"Oh my god!" I said. This was impossible. I was a history teacher, I knew when he died. That and Steve had become my best friend in the last year. It really was interesting how close two people grew when they both knew a rather shocking secret. I reached out to touch the man in front of me, to make sure I wasn't hallucinating, but before I could he stood up and started shooting again.

He said something in Russian again. It was really weird in the last three seconds to realize that Bucky now spoke Russian. As I stood up, he jumped over the side of the freeway, crushing the hood of the car on which he landed. The men around me grabbed something from their belts and dug the hooks into car hoods.

"You're gonna have to come with me." One of them said. I think I laughed at him. I really wasn't sure exactly what was going on in my head at that moment.

"Yeah, not going to happen." I said, glancing over my shoulder to see if Sam was ok or visible, or alive. I took two steps in the general direction of where he had rolled before an arm clamped around my waist. And then I was flying through the damn air again. Like three times! Really!

I hit the ground actually very shortly and fell to my knees. The man that carried me down pulled the largest machine gun ever off his back and climbed onto the car I was behind while the other two aimed their machines at what probably was a bus. Without warning, all three started shooting. People, civilians like me who were caught up in this fight for some reason, started running and screaming as a body actually came diving out the back window. He rolled, picking his shield up in the process and ducking behind it.

Time slowed down. The recoil from the guns faded to a dull roar and my heart rate increased. He wasn't even bloody. He had smudges on his face but I had seen that before. Steve ducked behind his shield, and his clear blue eyes locked with mine. Then time sped up, he angled his shield and ricocheted the bullets back at the shooters. I watched as both of the men on my sides dropped and Steve turned on the man firing the constant bullets. The one whose legs were right in front of me. He started moving slowly toward me, hiding behind his shield to prevent harm.

I have read that mothers experience an interesting phenomenon when something or someone threatens their children. Science has explained it as a rush of adrenaline, but mothers have explained it as a rush of strength. A burning desire to protect their children at all costs no matter what. I believe that I was experiencing this as Steve was slowly moving toward me; there was a surge of anger at the legs in front of me. I glanced down, noting the shards of glass scattered around my feet. Before I could register what was happening, the man attached to the legs screamed and the gun fire stopped.

"Crista." Steve said, a hand on my shoulder shaking me. "Crista." I blinked up at him, noting the man at my feet. He had a glass shard sticking out of his leg and a large bruise forming on his forehead. "Are you ok?" He asked.

"Me? Why?"

"You're shaking." He said. That was when I noticed the tremors running through my body and realized Steve was not shaking me, I was shaking me. I looked down to my hands, seeing the blood streaming through my fingers.

"Wha…?" I said, bringing my hand up. I could feel the warmth of this blood, the slipperiness and the stickiness as it dripped down my palm.

"You stabbed him." I looked back down at the man at our feet. "Are you ok?" He asked again. I guess I nodded as he looked slightly relived before another gun fire echoed.

"Go I got this." Sam said. Steve nodded slightly, squeezed my shoulder lightly and turned to run off. Toward where Bucky had gone.

"Steve wait." I said. But damn that man was fast. I heard Sam say something to the line of stay put, and my name. If Steve found out about Bucky, he was gonna freeze. There was no way that Steve would fight his best friend, even if there was a gun to his head. "Damn it, I hate running."

Of course I was running in the opposite direction of the crowd. Every sane person was making their way away from the fighting super humans. I was running toward them. And I wasn't exactly sure where they were. The roar of the crowd dulled as I got far enough away from people that I was the only one stupid enough to be near this fight. That was when I heard the metal clunk. Looking to the left was enough to see limbs doing something too fast to register. I sped up, did I mention I hate running, and skidded around the corner to see Steve and Bucky in hand to knife combat. I briefly wondered where his shield was but as I looked just above my head, there it was: stuck in the back of the van.

By the time I looked back, the metal hand was clamped around Steve's throat. Before I could say anything Steve was thrown backwards over the hood of a car. Trying to keep up with them was not a job for a history teacher. Why were my friends so complicated all of a sudden? By the time I had skirted the truck, there was a fist sized dent in the concrete, and Bucky had a knife dug into the van right by Steve's head. Steve dropped to his back, flipping Bucky over him right at my feet.

"Stop." I said, reaching down to the Winter Soldier. "Steve stop." I said. Well that didn't work. I was shoved out of the way as Bucky slammed his knife down only to ram his forearm into Steve's shield. I should name Steve's Shield. Like Moljnir has a name, Steve's shield should too. Suddenly, the mask rolled to my feet and I looked over to see Bucky tuck and spring to his feet and Steve freeze. "Bucky don't." I said, running to the soldier and throwing my arms around his neck.

His hands steadied me as he looked back over my shoulder.

"Don't do this." He glanced down at me, his eyes in a glare.

"Bucky?" Steve said. I looked back over my shoulder to see Steve, complete heartbreak in his eyes as he starred at the man holding me. I'm sorry. I mouthed at him, but I had tried to get him to stop.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" I didn't see Steve's reaction as I am sure it was his soul being crushed. I had turned back at the question.

"You are." Bucky looked past me again, and then it happened. Something flashed in Bucky's eyes; recognition, and suddenly there was a little piece of Bucky in his eyes. "Bucky?" I asked, forcing him to look at me. There was again. A slight recognition and I kissed him, happiness flooding through me; Bucky was in there in somewhere.

"Crista move!" Sam yelled. I pulled back in time for Sam to kick Bucky out of the way, Steve was still frozen. Bucky turned, focusing on Steve for a second before pulling out a gun and aiming.

"Bucky don't!" I said, running at him and latching onto his arm.

And then the truck exploded. His metal arm was plastered around my waist as he ran from the explosion. I tried to stop and turn back to Steve. I had just gotten him back, I wasn't going to lose him again. Steve was still staring at us, complete shock on his face and it broke my heart. The van was on fire and Natasha was leaning against a car with Bucky's big gun.

I was lifted against my will and Bucky started running again as I saw the HYDRA men coming up behind Steve. I yelled his name again, struggling against the muscle that was pressing into my stomach. "No, no, no, no! Steve run! Put me down Bucky!" And he listened. But he didn't let me go.

"Stoy!" He barked. Then I was pissed. I turned around and punched him in the right shoulder as hard as I could.

"You don't speak Russian. Stop it! Snap out of this!" And then I slapped him across the face.

"Who is Bucky?" He said again.

"Soldier. Report in." His flesh hand clamped around my wrist as he dragged me to the van. I tried to struggle against him but even before he was the Winter Soldier he was probably stronger than I was.

"Stop." He barked at me, and I froze. Now I had only known Bucky for four days in the 1940's, but from what I had read, and the things Steve had told me, Bucky never yelled at women. "He is dead. Stop trying to save him." He shoved me into the back of the van and crawled in next to me, something scratching my arm. I looked down to see the slats, or scales or whatever the hell they were, of his metal arm dented and sticking up in odd ways.

Steve must have done that. Probably with Roundy. No that was a stupid name. Probably with his shield. I turned to look out the back window toward the burning van, attempting to catch a glimpse of what the helicopter was hovering over. Was Steve really dead? If he was, I had a ticket to Germany to purchase, and if he was gone, he couldn't stop me. I glared at the person next to me, realizing he had buckled me in.

"You're gonna lose." I said.

"What?" He sneered.

"If you don't stop this and come back, I will make sure that you died that day. That none of this will ever happen." I whispered.

"You are a civilian. How do you think you can beat me? Your precious Captain couldn't even do that."

"I know when you were supposed to have died Bucky Barnes, and I am going to make sure that no one finds you after you fall from that train. I will make sure that Steve kills Zola and you will freeze to death." I am sure somewhere, there was some rule about not messing with history. But if Steve was dead, I really couldn't give a shit.