"So, ladies first?" Then she heaved open the wooden door with a creak and leaped down inside.

Steve jumped through after her, landing in a crouch and surveying his surroundings. Unlike the pristine white lab above, the basement beneath the trapdoor was dank and smelled strongly of decay. Dim blue lights illuminated gleaming black machinery.

Natasha warily walked forward, glancing around. "Looks like it's all clear."

Clint nodded in agreement. "I'll go check for additional exits."

Steve cautiously trailed a hand across a desk, but jerked back when he felt something warm and sticky. His fingers came away coated in scarlet. "There's blood," he said to Natasha. "Some kind of attack must have happened here. Recently. They might still be in the area."

She frowned. "Go check the perimeter with Clint. I'll get as much information as I can from their databases, then we can get out of here."

Steve strode past rows of computers and laboratory equipment, checking over his shoulder every so often. Everything about this place felt wrong.

He thought about what Bucky had said and involuntarily clenched his fists. He knew his anger (Or was it hurt? At this point, Steve was unable to detect much of a difference between the two) was mostly irrational, though he couldn't help but wonder: why had Bucky remembered everything now? Had he known it all this time and pretended not to simply because it was easier? These days, lying seemed to be the go-to option for everyone Steve knew.

As he neared the far end of the room, he noticed two small cells embedded in the brick wall. One of the cell's windows was cracked and shattered. Glass fragments crunched under his feet as he walked closer to examine the chamber's interior. An unmade bed, a wooden dresser... and, strangely enough, a stack of plastic toy blocks. Had Hydra been experimenting on children? Steve wouldn't put it past them.

Stepping out of the room, he almost backed into Bucky, who was silently perusing a stack of files. "What are those?" he asked automatically. He didn't really expect a response, given the Winter Soldier's current opinion towards him.

Bucky started, and his eyes darted around nervously. "Nothing important," he muttered, tossing the papers down on a table. With a glance at him, Steve picked up one of the folders and scanned the contents. To his surprise, he recognized it.

"This is your file," he said, taken aback. Bucky shrugged.

Steve flipped past the familiar pages, but stopped when he got to a section he didn't remember. Tony never had sent him the completed translation.

The title read "Assignments" in bold. A lengthy list of names followed, most of which Steve didn't recognize. Jackson, Nicholas, terminated. Akihiro, Itsu, terminated. Bukov, Alexei, terminated. Flint, Marcus, terminated. Stark, Maria & Howard, terminated.

That couldn't be right. He must have misread it; the Starks had died in a car crash. He skimmed the list a second time.

Stark, Maria & Howard, terminated.

Suddenly there was a shout and a loud thud. "What the hell—Natasha! The perimeter is most definitely not clear!"

They found Clint standing by a closet, an unconscious body at his feet. "Scout or guard, most likely," he said by way of explanation. "He radioed in before I shot him. They might know we're here."

"I've collected most of the data we need," Natasha said quickly. "We should leave before backup shows. Fury said this needed to be a quiet operation." She glanced at the paper in Steve's hand. "What's that?"

He hesitated. "Doesn't matter." Then he folded up the list and stuffed it in his pocket, shoving any lingering doubt to the back of his mind. He felt a coin slip into his hand as he did so and remembered what he had forgotten to ask earlier. "By the way, anyone know what this is?" he asked, holding it out.

Bucky immediately grabbed it and looked it over. "You found this in a picture frame?"

"Yeah, how did you—"

"We need to go," he said urgently, already turning and heading back toward the entrance.

"What? What does the coin mean?"

"It's a system we used after returning from assignments. The quarter, its date was in the 60s, that means this base was compromised and needs to be taken care of." Bucky swung himself up through the trapdoor and into the laboratory above. Natasha followed.

"Taken care of? Barnes, what are you—"

"That guy wasn't a scout, he was cleanup crew, here to make sure they hadn't left anything important behind before they completely obliterate this place. The entire building is probably rigged to blow."

Clint's eyes widened. "Shit."

Natasha got to the elevator first. She began tapping in the key code just as the lights flickered off with a metallic drone. She swore loudly. "They cut the power. The elevator won't work now."

"There aren't any windows," Steve began, but Clint interrupted,

"Air ducts." He vaulted onto a nearby desk to reach the low ceiling, seized a rusty metal grille above him and skillfully unscrewed the nails. Then, grasping the edges of the opening, he heaved himself upward and shimmied through, bracing his feet against the walls to stay in place. As though the two of them did this every day, Natasha stepped forward and accepted Clint's proffered hand to pull herself up after him.

All of this took about five seconds. Clint peered back impatiently at Steve and Bucky through the opening. "You coming, or do you want to get blown up?"

That was how Captain America, an (admittedly former) assassin, and SHIELD's finest ended up in an uncomfortably narrow and extremely grimy ventilation shaft for the purposes of what Steve considered a rather futile escape attempt. This method usually worked better in movies; frankly, he would have preferred smashing through walls.

Making their way upwards was grueling work. The first part of the duct was completely vertical, and its galvanized steel walls were coated in dust. "How much time do you think we have?" Steve panted.

Below him, Bucky responded grimly, "Minutes."

Clint's voice echoed above them. "I've reached a bend, so we must be on the next floor by now. Left or right?"

"Let me see." Natasha clambered over him to the front, accidentally shoving her booted heel in his face as she did so.

"You know, I've never minded high and exceedingly claustrophobic places like this," Clint mumbled against her shoe, "but somehow, being here with other people detracts from the charm."

"Shut up, Barton. I think we should go left. I memorized the floor plan—"

"Clearly not well, since you didn't even know about the secret evil laboratory, not to mention the ultra-secret basement edition evil laboratory—"

"Why is it that you always regress to the mental state of a five-year old when you're in life-or-death situations?" Natasha snapped.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I only act this way around you."

Once the narrow shaft sharply leveled off, climbing became much easier, since they were able to crawl on their hands and knees. Steve kept track of the passing time in his head. At exactly 73 seconds, he heard Natasha say, "Here's the grate... damn, it's too dark to see the screws..."

Suddenly the walls trembled slightly. Trickles of dust cascaded down from between the metal panels. Steve's eyes widened. "We've got to go!"

"It's stuck..." She rammed her shoulder into the grille.

There was a distant boom, and then he could feel heat rushing toward them. "We need to get out now!"

Natasha shoved the grate again and it finally gave. Then somehow Steve was out and he was running with his shield raised, he could feel the lick of flames against his back and wooden floorboards disintegrating beneath his feet, and then there was a deafening splintering noise as he shattered through a window and suddenly there was nothing but air whistling past as he free-fell towards the unforgiving ground.

Without any time to get his shield under him during the fall, Steve hit the concrete with a horrible thud that rattled every bone in his body. There was a brief throb of agony, and everything flashed white. Don't pass out don't pass out don't you dare pass out. Gradually, it faded to a dull ache, and for a while Steve just lay there, head pounding, trying to catch his breath as he assessed the situation. The impact had been jarring, to say the least. He didn't appear to have any serious injuries, but dear God, his ribs hurt.

With a groan, he staggered upright and looked around. Somehow, he had managed to leap far enough away from the explosion that he hadn't been hit by wreckage. The office building behind him was now a heap of rubble and smoldering debris. Ashes and smoke clouded the air, and he coughed, feeling slightly sick from the metallic taste of blood in the back of his throat.

"Everyone okay?" someone called. Natasha. He followed the sound of her voice and found her leaning against their car (which thankfully remained unmarred), rifling through her pockets as she checked to make sure no stolen flash drives were missing or damaged.

"Well, that didn't go as badly as it could have," he said weakly. She peevishly pursed her lips.

"We got the data, didn't we?" another voice said. Bucky strode toward them, stony-faced as usual and somehow completely uninjured. "That was the mission objective."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Do you not understand the concept of collateral damage, Barnes? It's something we usually try to avoid."

"To be fair, we're almost always unsuccessful in that respect." Barton stumbled over, clutching one shoulder and covered from head to toe in soot. "How is it," he grunted as he braced himself against the car next to Natasha, "that the worst injuries you superhero types ever seem to get are a few bruises?" He jerked his arm back and hissed as his shoulder popped back into its socket. Next, he tore a strip of fabric from his shirt and roughly began to wrap it around a deep gash on his bicep. "I mean, we fell three freaking stories." After tying off the makeshift bandage with his teeth, he turned to Natasha. "About that. Why the hell did we waste time climbing that high in the air ducts? You said you knew the floor plan. We should have exited the building by the first floor."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know what would have also saved time? If you had helped me open the grate instead of just staring at my ass like a hormonal teenage boy."

Clint gaped at her.

"If we're all done here," she continued loftily, "why don't we leave before the fire department shows up, hmm?" She got into the driver's seat without another word and slammed the door shut behind her.

Barton shook his head in amazement. "Women."

Fury was standing in front of the window, his back to them, when the foursome traipsed into his office. "You know," he began, his gaze fixed on the hazy city skyline, "this was supposed to be an safe, easy assignment. I figured there was no way it could possibly go wrong, even with an extra member on your team. But somehow," he sighed loudly, "you still managed to blow up a building." He turned around to face them and crossed his arms. "At least you didn't ruin the car this time."

"Sir, HYDRA had already planned the explosion to obliterate any evidence," Natasha explained. "The base had apparently been compromised. We saw signs of an attack when we arrived, and..." She removed a flash drive from her vest and handed it to him. "I think we can infer it was an inside job."

Fury plugged it into his computer and scanned the contents with a frown. "This is... not what we anticipated. Where exactly—"

Suddenly, the doors to Fury's office slid open to reveal two figures. "Stark, Anthony, and Potts, Virginia. You are denied access to this area—" a mechanical voice began.

"Oh, shut up. So, who're Pietro and Wanda Maximoff?" Tony strode into the room, Pepper at his heels.

"You're aware that the Board of Directors meeting started six and a half minutes ago? And this is the, what, fourth consecutive one you've missed?" she was saying angrily.

"Fifth, actually. Live a little, Pep," Tony responded breezily, waving a hand. "By the way, Fury, I hacked your computer system. Again. And Natasha, thank you for that illuminating and probably top-secret file you just sent to him, ergo also to me." He turned to Clint with a delighted grin. "Legolas! What's up, man? How have you been?"

Clint opened his mouth to reply, but Fury beat him to it. "Barton, you're getting blood on my carpet. Go to Medical before you manage to injure yourself further; Romanoff can debrief the rest of the mission."

"I—uh, yes, sir. My apologies for the carpet, sir." Clint hurriedly exited the office.

Tony looked put out. "Did you have to do that? I haven't seen Katniss in ages."

"You and Hawkeye in the same room would inevitably cause a veritable overdose of idiocy," Fury commented dryly. "I thought it would be safest for us all to remove one of the reagents. May I ask what you're doing here, Stark?"

"We had a meeting."

"That was two days ago."

"Oh. Well, I'm fashionably late, then."

"We're so sorry to burst in like this, Nick," Pepper said apologetically, smoothing down her gray pencil skirt and blouse. "We will, of course, leave right away. Won't we, Tony?" She laughed awkwardly and not-so-discreetly kicked Stark in the shin. He yelped. "Won't we?"

"In a minute, in a minute," he muttered distractedly. "You must be Capsicle's ninja friend!" He strode up to Bucky and held out his hand. Bucky stared at it blankly. After a moment, Tony withdrew his hand and shoved it in his pocket, rocking back on his heels. "Aw, come on. You must have heard of me, even if you have been on ice for the past several decades. The name's Tony Stark."

"Do I... know you?" Bucky said uncertainly.

Steve decided to step in before things became even more uncomfortable. Fury already appeared exasperated—which seemed to be his usual expression whenever Stark was nearby—while Pepper had begun texting apologies to the members of the board whose meetings Tony apparently skipped more often than a teenage druggy ditching math class. "Tony's a..." Steve paused, unsure of the appropriate term. "Colleague."

"You wound me, Spangles. I thought we were besties. We saved the world from aliens together; I consider that a potent bonding experience."

"Do you remember Howard Stark?" Steve continued, ignoring the interruption. "We were both friends with him during the war; he was Tony's father. He died in a car crash." And suddenly Steve's throat felt very dry, and he couldn't think of what to say next, because the paper list in his pocket felt heavy as a stone. Stark, Howard & Maria, terminated.

Something in Bucky's face shifted. "I am... sorry for your loss," he said stiffly.

"Don't be. My dad died ages ago," Tony said dismissively, but his posture had become slightly strained. He looked as though he was waiting to hear something else. A second passed. Two. Finally Stark turned away with a sigh. "So, back to my earlier question regarding HYDRA's rebel super-twins—"

"I killed your father."

Utter silence fell over the room.

Tony was frozen in place. Fury's expression remained impassive, but Natasha arched a brow at Steve, wordlessly asking if he'd known about this. He looked away, though he himself was shocked. The only legitimate emotion he'd ever seen from the Winter Solder was anger. Confession was something more... human than Steve had come to expect.

Bucky scrubbed a hand through his hair, and that action, combined with the awful guilt on his face, made him look so much like his old self it almost physically pained Steve. "They arranged everything so that HYDRA's involvement was undetectable. I don't remember doing it, but I know I did. I did... a lot of really bad stuff, I think. Maybe they made me, or maybe that was just what I was like all along, you know? Maybe the reason they were able to break me was because I was never anything more than a trained dog, except on a different side." He looked down. "But I just, I never wanted—I mean, it hurts. To remember. They tried so hard to make me forget it all, I just... I thought I should tell you, I..." He cleared his throat. "I am very sorry."

His gaze met Steve's, and it may have merely been wishful thinking, but it seemed that those blue eyes weren't quite as icy as they used to be. Maybe a bit broken, maybe with a few cracks here and there, but with time and effort, all broken things can be fixed.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said again. Steve got the impression that Bucky wasn't just talking about Howard anymore.

All broken things can be fixed, Steve told himself. And even though it was entirely inappropriate, he had to fight back a smile.

I hope you all like the chapter! Sorry for the wait, but this was kinda hard to write. The action/escape sequence still feels a bit pathetic to me; that type of thing isn't my strong suit. Not to mention all those emotions. Was that too much or not enough angst? I can't even tell anymore... in my messed up mind, more angst is always better. ;)

If you enjoyed this and would like to leave a review, I'd appreciate it! Constructive criticism is always welcome, too. Thanks for reading!