The Original Three

by tinseltown

Victoria harbors feelings for one of her best friends, Bucky Barnes, & a dangerous secret she's never told anyone. When she finds out both of her boys have died in action, she feels like her world has ended. But the world works in mysterious ways & when both men tumble back into her life, Victoria is given the chance to save & reunite them all...if she can only control herself.

11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing, especially my lovelies who review every time! You guys seriously know how to make a writer's day. No joke. I love you guys. And thanks to Willisthesheep for your lovely review. It's so flattering that I turned quite pink in the face! I'd have responded privately but you know, you reviewed when not logged in, so! Thanks, the whole lot of you. :)

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Agent Hill must be made of magic because we make it to the control room without incident. Well—almost without incident. She shoots two guards in front of the control room. But aside from them, we don't run into any enemies. The ease of it all is almost a little unnerving. Shouldn't we have run into someone by now? I feel like I can smell a trap but maybe my nose is just blocked from a cold or something, because nothing happens. Agent Hill, Sam, Steve, and I enter the room (Natasha's already vanished by now) and the guards inside freeze as we enter.

They're young men, pimply things with youthful terror on their faces. They're probably a few years older than me but I know that simply from my expression and stance, I look years older. One of them opens his mouth to shakily say, "H-Hey, you're not—you can't—"

Thirty seconds later, we have both young men tied to a chair in the corner and gagged. Their eyes are wide and they're not even screaming; they're too busy gawping at us. They shouldn't even be mad, really. How many people can say they've been tied up by Captain America?

Okay, that came out sounding wrong. Correction—how many people can say they're important enough to have been detained by Captain America?

Even though these boys aren't important or anything.

"Patch me over to the intercom, Hill," commands Steve. "I have an announcement to make."

"The whole building will know you're here," warns Hill.

"That's the point," says Steve. Agent Hill starts punching away at some buttons, doing some computer-y thing that I don't understand, and then she silently hands a microphone to Steve. He takes a deep breath and then speaks into it: "This is Captain Rogers."

I can't help it. I let out a startled jump when I hear his voice echo through the building, its magnitude multiplied tenfold. I can't actually see anyone but I can just picture everyone in the building freezing as they hear Steve's voice. Real SHIELD agents will feel shock and confusion. HYDRA agents will be feeling that as well, but they'll also be scrambling to locate where Steve is speaking from. We probably don't have long.

"I know you've been assigned to hunt me down," says Steve. "And I know that you're just doing your jobs. But SHIELD isn't what it seems anymore. It's been taken over by HYDRA—a rogue Nazi organization." He pauses and takes a breath. "Alexander Pierce is their leader," he says and it's like the word "leader" rings throughout the building. I see the eyes of the two tied up boys get even wider. Any wider and their whole eyeballs will actually roll out of their heads. I decide suddenly that they can't be HYDRA. Way too wimpy.

"If you follow through on Pierce's orders and allow the helicarriers from Project Insight to take flight…a lot of innocent people are going to die," says Steve seriously. "Thousands. Millions. I'm going to stop HYDRA, even if I have to fight alone—but I'm willing to bet that I'm not alone. The price of freedom is high—but it's a price I'm willing to pay. I hope some of you are willing to pay it as well. Don't let those helicarriers into the air. Don't let control and chaos take the place of freedom. Stand up for what's right. Stand up for liberty." He clicks the microphone off and sets it down.

"Did you write that on the way here," Sam jokes, grinning, "or do you come up with award-winning speeches off the top of your head?" I can't help but agree. That speech was majestic. Of course Steve Rogers would be the one to come up with it on the spot. Perhaps he should be writing novels instead of fighting evil.

I can only imagine the chaos that's going on inside the Triskelion right now. Captain America has slipped in from right under HYDRA's nose—and he's exposed them to the rest of the SHIELD. People will be frozen right now, perhaps not understand what's going on…but then they will start to eye their neighbors with shifty gazes and suspicion, wondering who is friend and who is foe. And then people will have to make a choice, one that may mean the difference between life and death. Alexander Pierce will be furious, wherever he is, if he's lucky enough to not already have been killed by Natasha's hands. I can only imagine how cold and dead his shark eyes will be looking right now—the look of an animal right before diving into the kill.

Agent Hill is frowning. "I told you the helicarriers did have to take flight—"

"Change of plans," says Steve. "Who's going to get Victoria off of the helicarrier once it's in air, before we shoot it down? No. No way."

Wait—did Steve just change the entire plan to protect me? Good god, my face is red, isn't it? Yes, my face is red and burning and I'm torn between wanting to hug Steve but mostly wanting to clobber him over the head and beat him bloody because how humiliating is this? He's treating me like some sort of child.

Even though he has a good point. How was I going to get off the helicarrier in time?

"Steve, you have to get moving," says Agent Hill, looking at a watch on her wrist. "You're losing time, fast."

"Sorry, lads," I say sweetly, giving both of the wide eyed young man a light slap on the cheek. "We won't be untying you just yet. Go to sleep. Time will pass by more quickly."

Steve, Sam, and I bid Agent Hill a quick farewell and then we leave after Agent Hill tells us the shortest and easiest way to get the helicarriers. I follow behind Steve and Sam, skipping backwards every now and then. We take back corridors and hallways that are less populated, but we do come across some bewildered guards. If they're ahead of us Steve incapacitates them before they can shout for help. If they show up behind us I slam them against the walls and knock them out. The one time the guard doesn't get knocked out (he looks like he has an extraordinarily thick skull) Sam is ready and punches him in the face to knock him out. And I admit—in those moments, as we make our way to the helicarrier hangars, I'm proud and happy. We're working as a team and I feel like I'm important.

Of course, my life sucks. So of course this changes very soon. But you'll have to hold on for a moment. First comes some more fighting.

We make it out onto the tarmac and it's clear that we're too late—the helicarriers have already risen in the sky. "What now?" I spit. "We were supposed to be on those while they took off!"

"Sam, carry me up to a that one," Steve orders, pointing to a helicarrier on the right.

Sam looks alarmed. "What—carry you?" I can't say I blame him. Steve does not look light. Sam's a built guy but carrying the current Steve Rogers… "Fine," he says suddenly, probably realizing we have no other choice. Either that or he doesn't want to appear like a weakling. "Hold on, Cap."

"Victoria, stay out of sight!" is all Steve has time to shout before Sam backs up, takes a running start, grabs Steve under the arms and leaps into the air, his mechanical wings exploding outwards in a powerful snap. I see him falter slightly, jerking sideways, under Steve's weight—but then they're both rising, flying quickly. I hear shouts and then see men running out onto the tarmac, holding guns, aiming at Sam and Steve.

Stay out of sight, Steve said.

Oh Steve. You don't know me very well anymore, do you?

I run at the men trying to shoot Steve and Sam. Luckily for me, they're too preoccupied in their mission to notice me approaching and I manage to dredge up enough fury to throw my hands out and blast all three of them backwards. They all hit the ground and their guns go flying and I'm satisfied. I'm not as satisfied the next moment when they're clambering back to their feet and diving for their guns. Oh sh—

I whirl and notice large wooden packing crates stacked next to us, towering over us. I throw my hands to the right, motioning as if I were pushing something sideways. Pain erupts behind my eyes and I feel a little dizzy from using so much power. The ground wavers and I stagger back a step, blinking, but I've done what I wanted: the entire stack of enormous crates goes crashing onto the men, who stagger back, screaming, but too little, too late—they've been smashed under the crates. I don't know if they're dead or alive but I'm not sticking around to find out. Our little altercation has caught the attention of some men further away and they're running at me now, shouting and pointing guns. I spin around and run.

I have no idea where I'm going or how I'm going to get to the helicarrier I needed to—but before I can try to figure either of these things out, I hear someone yell, "HEAD'S UP, GIRL!" and then my heart nearly explodes with fright as someone grabs me under my armpits and shoots into the air like a rocket.

"Sam!" I scream but my voice is swallowed by the whistling wind as we race up to the helicarriers. He's dodging bullets and I shout, "HOLD ONTO ME TIGHT OR SO HELP ME, SAM, I WILL—!" My stomach is turning and I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see how high we are. How far I'll fall if Sam lets me go—

And then he suddenly does let me go. I open my mouth to scream, eyes still squeezed shut—goodbye world, Fizzy out!—but just as soon I hit a hard surface. Making it clear that today is not the day I plunge to my death from the sky. Hurrah. I open my eyes just as Sam lands next to me and yanks me to my feet. I look around, a bit disoriented, and realize I'm on a helicarrier.

"Helicarrier one on lock!" comes Agent Hill's voice through my ear pierce and I jump in shock. I'd forgotten we were wearing these. "Falcon, Cap, hurry up, we need the other two helicarriers locked in pronto!"

"On it!" comes Steve's voice and he suddenly slams to the ground right in front of me. Where he's jumped from, I have no idea.

"Let's go," he says to Sam and me and I suddenly know what's happened. He told Sam to take him up to the first helicarrier. Then, while Steve exchanged the micro-card or whatever it is, Sam came down to grab me and take me up to the same helicarrier where Steve is. Now Sam is going to take both of us to the second helicarrier and he'll fly to the third helicarrier on his own. Basically…I'm just tagging along with wherever Captain America goes. I have no use. I should have known…

"You don't trust me," I say. The words sound horrible in my mouth—steeped in childish anger and bitterness and I wish I haven't said them but they've come out anyway.

"Victoria, we don't have time for this," says Steve. "We need to get to the other two helicarriers. Sam?"

"Hold on tight," Sam warns. "I won't be able to hold the two of you for long. Good thing the other helicarriers aren't so far," he adds in a low grumble.

"Victoria, hold on to me," commands Steve.

I don't want to. I want to get the heck away from him. I want to stab him in the gut. I want to scream because I've always been a stupid useless little girl and I apparently always will be, no matter what I go through, no matter how I try to prove myself.

And what's the point? Nothing will work. No one will ever see me as important. Strong. Tough.

It just doesn't matter anymore.

Usually when I get angry, I'm energetic, frantic, violent. I explode into action and argue and fight. I don't back down. I'm like a hurricane, destroying everything and everyone in my path. But this time…this time… I'm just done. Defeated. Shoulders-sagging, heart-wilted, spirit-crushed type of defeated. Which is why I silently grab Steve without an argument. I don't really care anymore. We'll get to the other helicarrier—Captain America will save the day again—and then I'll vanish. And this time, I'll do it for good. One of my best friends is an assassin who doesn't remember us, one of my best friends is changed and doesn't need me anymore, so who am I staying for? I'll run. And I'll run far, so far that they'll never find me. Hide in the streets of Tokyo. The wilds of India. Some tiny village in Romania. Wherever I need to go to never remember any part of Victoria—or Fizzy—or even Parcel—ever again.

I'll become someone totally different.

Falcon (again…where's my cool nickname?) runs back a couple dozen feet, snaps his wings open, and then takes a running leap at us. To make things easier, Steve also takes a running start and then leaps into the air as high as he can, with me clinging to him like a koala bear. He times it just so that Sam is able to grab him and we fly off the helicarrier. Sam drops a couple of feet due to the extra weight he's carrying (you have to give the man props; carrying Captain America like this can't be easy) and for a terrifying moment when we're hundreds of feet in the air, me clinging to Steve so tightly I'm probably cutting off his blood circulaton, I think we're going to fall.

Splat. The end of Captain America, Victoria Marsden, and the Falcon. Just like that. Pierce will laugh at how easy it was for him.

But then Sam—moving a little more slowly and jerkily, letting out grunts of exertion and pain—flies over to the next helicarrier and practically throws us onto the ground in his relief to be free of us. He zooms into the air like a rocket, spinning, and I hear him let out a shout of glee in my ear pierce. "I'm onto the next helicarrier, Cap!" he shouts and he shoots off to the third helicarrier, saying, "You get this done! We're so close!"

I suppose I should describe the helicarriers for a moment, since they're not normal aircraft. They look more like very wide rectangular barges with flat ship-like surfaces but in the very middle of each one is a huge three-story glass-and-metal structure that encapsulates a control panel at the top of a tower and a network of metal bridges and stairs and pathways that lead to the control panel. It's along this open surface we're running as fast as we can to the glass structure that houses the control panel. I'm trying to concentrate on keeping up with Steve—and I'm failing, he's paces ahead of me—but he suddenly doubles back, grabs my hand, and yanks me forward, keeping me in pace with him (though I'm stumbling a bit now, tripping over my feet).

And he's still holding my hand. I manage to look at him and he says, "We're going to talk," and then he lets go and sprints even faster.

What just happened? Does he mean we're going to talk now? Is he mad? I try to remember if Steve's always been this mad. I don't think so. Hmmm.

I run after him, pushing myself. I can feel my heart beginning to beat faster and the sun is beating on my back. I'm sweating and I can sense that something major is about to happen, though I can't tell what.

"Cap, I got the second one!" comes Sam's voice—but it's not through the ear pierce. It's from the air. Steve and I both stop running and look up as Sam lands in front of us, grinning wildly. "Second one is done," he says, "so I thought I'd come help you g—"

CRASH. For a moment I can't even see what's happened—but suddenly the Winter Soldier—wait, no, Bucky—is standing in front of us and I realize he's crashed through a tall stack of crates that are laying to our left. If he ever needs a second job later in life, I think magician would be a good one. The way he just appears and disappears. It'd be amazing if it weren't terrifying. Before anyone can react, he lunges forward and slams Steve in the chest with a high kick so powerful that Steve shoots off the edge of the helicarrier. This all happens in a matter of seconds and I let out a yell of shock and dash over to the edge, leaning precariously over it to frantically see if Steve's hurtling to earth.

Oh. So this is the major thing that's happening.

"Victoria!" Steve yells. Enormous relief washes through me and then panic, a second later—he's barely clinging onto the edge. Behind me, I can hear rapid fire gunshots and can only pray that Sam will keep Bucky distracted long enough for me to help Steve.

"Grab my hand!" I yell, leaning over the edge, trying to reach Steve, who's dangling.

He swings up in a powerful motion—our hands grip—

"OW!" I wail as someone grabs the back of my hair and yanks me back, throwing me to the ground so roughly it feels like my neck's been snapped. Tears sting my eyes and for a moment, fiery pain runs up and down my spine and neck and I can't move.

Panic. Panic. Oh god, panic. Has he paralyzed me? Has he snapped my spine?

For one terrible, truly terrible moment, I think he's snapped my spine and paralyzed me because pain is pounding me and I can't move. And I'd rather be dead than be paralyzed. Not being able to move—to use my powers—to run—it's a fate worse than death, in my eyes. But it turns out it's only the panic that momentarily paralyzed me and I'm able to slowly stagger to my feet…just as Sam soars up ahead of me to try and grab Steve and Bucky grabs one of his wings and rips it off.

Okay, what is with him and his newfound love for ripping things off that really should not be ripped off?

Sam drops like a stone and I scream, "SAM!" while lunging for the edge. I watch him fall, spinning wildly, jerking, and he's getting smaller and smaller. I close my eyes, feeling like I'm going to vomit. A few seconds pass where Sam's vanished and all I can hear is silence and my own thundering heart…but then I hear Sam suddenly speak into the ear pierce, breathless. "I made it—I landed—I'm fine—but you're on your own, kid! Get Steve!"

"I'm not a kid!" I yell back rudely but relief, sweet and glorious, rushes through me and I close my eyes for just a nanosecond. Sam is alive. He's landed on something. Thank god.

Then I spin around to see Bucky's gone. "Steve!" I yell into the wind and lean over to where he was hanging…but he's gone. Okay, relief time is over—panic time is back. I frantically search the skies below us. "Steve?" I shout again, my voice trembling a bit. I start to shake as I keep searching, even though I know he'll be long out of sight if he's fallen. Has he fallen? If he's fallen, all is lost. He'll be dead, the microchip will be gone, Project Insight will kill millions of people, and I'll be trapped alone on this helicarrier with a murderous Winter Soldier. My chest starts to burn in panic and I get to my feet, looking around wildly for some way out of this hell. Did I actually think this mission was going to be cake?

I'm a moron.

"Victoria!" comes Steve's voice from behind me and I whirl to see him jogging up to me from behind. How did he get up? Well, he's Captain America. I shouldn't be surprised. He can probably walk on his fingers or something. And then—I don't know what I'm thinking; it's not even me thinking, it's the even stronger relief controlling me—I fling myself at him, hugging him so hard that I can't breathe for a moment. My face is buried in his chest and I inhale for a moment—he smells like mown grass and clean cotton, like he always did, even after being through a fight. He freezes and I immediately let go, leaping away, face burning. I've hugged Steve numerous times before (much to the chagrin of nosy ladies on the block who didn't think it was appropriate for a girl to be hugging a boy so much…though they didn't care as much when I hugged Steve than when I hugged Bucky, since Steve didn't actually seem like a real man to them but Bucky did) but not once since I've been re-acquainted with him.

You just love embarrassing yourself, don't you, Fizzy? You should make a career out of it. It would probably pay better than Official Street Kid.

"We need to go," says Steve urgently (thankfully he's not mentioning my strange display of affection) and we take off, sprinting for real this time. I don't know where Bucky's gone and it's making me extremely nervous. Why did he disappear? Why didn't he just also throw me off the edge and be done with us all? Where is he hiding?

I don't like people who hide. It's a cowardly thing to do. I'm half tempted to call out and say, "Where are you? Come and fight!" but I don't think goading him is really the best course of action at the moment. For once, I'll keep my mouth shut and not stupidly initiate a fight.

Just this once, though. No guarantees for later.

Steve wrenches open a door in the glass structure and we pound up a set of metal steps that lead to a metal walkway high in the air. We reach the top and Steve freezes to a stop. I slam right into him because I've been more focused on my feet than where he's going. Rubbing my forehead (what is he made out of, cement?), I step to his side—and freeze as well. My stomach turns to liquid and I feel a bit wheezy again.

It's Bucky.

He's standing at the other end of the metal bridge, right in front of the entrance to the control panel. I didn't get a good look at him earlier when he was attacking Steve and throwing people off helicarriers like a wild man, but here he is, standing stock still and staring at us. Glaring at us. He's not wearing a face mask and his hair is blowing about his face slightly from the powerful fans whirling above in the ceiling. The dark soot smudged around his eyes is gone but he has several cuts on his face and deep shadows under his eyes. His eyes which look creepily empty as he glares at us. No, in fact, it's not even glaring…it's more like sullen staring. It's angry but it's vacant and empty at the same time. Almost like a confused, angry, petulant child who doesn't understand why he's in trouble but he knows he is in trouble and he wants to lash out.

"Bucky," says Steve sadly but seriously, "don't make me do this. You know us."

Bucky merely keeps staring at us, making no move to show us that Steve's words have any impact on him.

"Sorry, Victoria," says Steve. For a moment, I don't know what he means. I blink. "Wha—?" I start, when Steve shoves me, hard. I teeter backwards, arms wind-milling wildly for a moment, reaching out to grab onto anything—

And then I flip over the railing and fall. There's no time to scream. No time for anything. I slam into the sloping glass ground beneath me and stars explode in front of my eyes. A squealed hiss of pain escapes my clenched teeth and automatic tears of pain burst from my eyes as I moan and slowly turn over. The side I've landed on is throbbing with pain, like I've been hit with a hundred baseball bats repeatedly. I'm going to kill Steve for this. Just you wait, Rogers.

I focus my gaze on the walkway high above and realize a furious fight is going on. Steve shoved me just as he send his shield flying at Bucky and now they're spinning, jabbing, punching, kicking…fighting like there's no tomorrow.

And, if Project Insight is successful, there possibly won't be a tomorrow—for a couple million people, at least.

I'm mesmerized for another few seconds because their fight is just as skilled and amazing as before. "Steve! Parcel!" comes Agent Hill's voice, patchy and a little static-y over my ear piece. "Status update!"

"We're—we're getting there!" I say loudly, because Steve is a little too busy getting his butt kicked and alternately kicking butt to reply. "We've just—encountered a minor setback—"

"What does that mean?" Agent Hill demands.

"Bu—The Winter Soldier is here," I say and then I roll over with a cry as Bucky slams into the ground right where I've been laying. Steve leaps down too and then they're fighting, punching and lunging. I get to my feet and stagger back as Steve shoves me behind him. Bucky pulls out a gun and shoots at us twice but Steve deflects with his shield and then Bucky tosses the gun away and dives at Steve. I don't know what he wants—to get the micro-card or to get me? Either way, his plan is to kill Steve first, apparently.

The card falls out of Steve's hand as Bucky tackles him and I dive for it just as Steve wraps an arm around Bucky's neck, another arm pinning Bucky's metal arm down, and uses his legs to wrap them around Bucky. All in all, it's a fully body stranglehold and Bucky struggles furiously, trying to wrench away from Steve, but slowly his face turns pink and then red and then purple.

"Steve, you're killing him!" I yell, backing away with the card in my sweaty palms. "Stop!"

Steve lets go just as Bucky's body goes limp and his eyes closed. Is he dead?

"He's just passed out," says Steve, shoving his body off of him and clambering to his feet. He walks toward me and holds his hand out for the card. I press it into his palm and he says, "Thanks. Keep an eye on him," and then he starts climbing back up to where the control panel is.

The next part is my mistake. I admit this. I mess up—badly. I forget the cardinal rule of fighting: never take your eye off your opponent…even if they look dead or passed out. You don't go near them and you don't take your eyes off them until you put a bullet in their head or a dagger in their throat. I can't tell you how many times I've seen a fight go south fast because the "victor" gets too close to their fallen opponent or takes their eye off him—and next thing you know, the fallen guy is opening their eyes, grabbing the victor, and slitting his throat open.

Nasty business.

I know this rule. I'm always careful to follow this rule. But for some reason, I forget this rule now and turn my back on Bucky. He's clearly passed out and I want to watch Steve, to see what he does. Which is why I miss Bucky waking up—or was he ever passed out at all? Was it all an act?—and getting to his feet and shooting Steve in the back leg.

"No!" I cry, whirling around to face Bucky, just as Steve lets out a cry of pain above. I hold my palms out towards Bucky, tensed in a defensive position, but I don't know if I'm threatening Bucky or trying to appeal to him. "Bucky, please stop," I plead. "You can't do this. You know us."

He throws me a brief look full of barely-controlled rage and then turns and shoots Steve again. Steve lets out another cry, this one more piercing, and that's when I launch at Bucky. It's a stupid thing to do, of course; he's ten times stronger than me because he's also some sort of super-soldier, like Steve. But my powers give me an advantage. As I throw myself at him, I smash my hands together and he staggers back a step, looking dazed suddenly, as if his head has been smashed between two walls. This gives me all the time I need to leap onto him and then when he regains his consciousness a few seconds later, we're fighting—only it's a very strange fight. Not like him and Steve, fighting like two real warriors. This is more like me clinging to him like a vicious howler monkey and trying to bite and scratch him everywhere I can while he tries to yank me off his person. But he's underestimating just how ferociously I can cling when I put my mind to it. It also feels like he's been strangely…gentle? No, gentle isn't the right word…but I sense that he's not being as violent as he can be. Is it because he has to acquire me rather than kill me? Is he trying not to destroy the merchandise?

The thought fuels my fire and I try to poke my fingers into his eyes (not hard enough to blind—just hard enough to make him stumble) but before I can, he flings me off and throws me against a beam on the far wall. I hit it with a clang and slide to the floor. Pain radiates down my spine. Dammit. This isn't fun at all. I don't like getting my butt kicked, I like to do the butt kicking. My vision is a little wobbly, but before I can get to my feet, the sound of explosions and shrieking, groaning metal and glass rips throughout the helicarrier.

Alarmed, I look up—and dive out of the way just as a huge metal beam falls from the ceiling and falls on top of Bucky, pinning him to the floor. I stagger forward, unsure of what I'm even planning on doing, and now grass is cracking and shattering all around us and metal walkways are falling, as are huge metal beams. The helicarrier is being blown apart. This can only mean one thing: Steve's managed to somehow switch the micro-cards and Agent Hill has gotten control of the helicarriers and is now having them blasted from the sky.

Two thoughts hit me in succession:

We're going to die,

and

At least we've saved the world.

Win some, lose some. It's the way of the world. I'm not exactly thrilled to be dying—but at least I'm dying having achieved something. And I won't die alone; I'll die with my two best friends next to me. We're not exactly best friends at the moment, if you know what I mean, but what can be more fitting than Bucky, Steve, and I all somehow making it to the twenty-first century…only to die together, on the same day, at the same moment? Maybe it'll be like history righting its wrongs. Fixing its mistakes.

I hope hell has a poetry café for me.

Steve falls from the metal walkway to the ground below and he grabs the beam that's crushing Bucky to try and lift it off of him. I dart forward and help out. He lifts from one side and I use my powers, straining and sweating, head pounding, to hover-lift the beam from the other side and together we manage to move it enough so that Bucky can crawl out from under it. We let the beam crash to the floor and a wave of terrible exhaustion washes through me, sapping me of all my energy. I stumble back a step. My legs suddenly feel a bit like a custard cream.

Bucky staggers to his feet and then Steve, who's standing a bit bent over as if his stomach hurts, says, "You know us, Bucky."

"No, I don't!" yells Bucky, sounding deranged, and he throws himself at Steve, slamming his fist into his face.

Steve, for his part, doesn't even attempt to defend himself. He takes the blow and then turns back to Bucky, one eye blackened, and says, "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. My name is Steve Rogers and her name is Victoria Marsden. You've known both of us since you were young."

A huge chunk of the ceiling suddenly falls and crashes through the floor between where Steve and Bucky stand and where I stand. My foot slips and I tumble forward, teetering dangerously for a moment, screaming, and Steve shouts, "VICTORIA!" Something slams into my gut and I fly backwards, hitting the ground hard. The breath is knocked out of me and I sit up, groaning, and realize it's Steve's shield that's laying next to me. He's saved my life; by throwing his shield at me, he knocked me back and stopped me from falling. I grab the shield and shakily stand, trying to find a way to get around the huge hole that's stopping me from reaching Bucky and Steve. The wind is howling in my ears and whipping my hair past my face, I can smell smoke, and all I can hear is the deafening sound of glass and metal ripping and tearing and falling and crashing and the engines blowing and explosions tearing through the helicarrier. We're going down and we're not going to be able to get to ground alive.

I see Bucky launch himself at Steve and pounce on him, pinning him down. "Stop!" I shout but the rushing wind steals my voice, turning it into silence almost immediately.

"And you're my MISSION!" I hear Bucky scream as he furiously punches Steve once—twice—thrice—multiple times in the face, on and on and on until I want to be sick. I can't quite see Steve's face from here but he's not fighting back—why isn't the fool fighting back?!—and I can only imagine what being punched that many times by a super-soldier can do to your face. Very ugly and painful things, I imagine.

"BUCKY! STEVE!" I scream as Bucky raises his fist one more time and then freezes with his fist drawn back, kneeling on top of Steve. And those are the last words I have a chance to say because suddenly something extremely hard (and I'm talking hundreds of pounds of weight type of hard) slams into my head. Red pain flashes through me and I pass out almost immediately. My vision fades to dark and I fall forward, my arm getting slashed by a jagged edge of glass, and the last thing my consciousness recalls before hurtling out of the helicarrier and into freefall is someone distantly screaming my name and the feel of my fingers losing their grip on the cool metal of the shield…

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He had two missions: to kill the man from the bridge and to acquire the girl, Asset 56. They had both escaped his grasp for far too long and he'd already been egregiously punished for his previous failures. He wasn't going to let that happen anymore. He was going to finish his work here even if it killed him to get it done. He had to obey. Failing a third time was not an option.

And everything had been going fine. He'd ignored the girl, who was wild with her powers but weak and unskilled in fighting, and fought the blond man. The blond man had managed to get the card up to the control room and switch it, thus ruining HYDRA's plan. This enraged him but not as much as the thought of the man living did. So even though HYDRA's plan had failed, he was full of so much rage that he knew he was going to finish his mission anyway. This man and this woman, they'd made a fool and a failure of him. They would pay. He would kill the man and then, when the blond man was finished, he would get the stupid little girl and make his escape. He'd bring Asset 56 back to HYDRA as proof that he was still a good soldier. And if HYDRA was done, demolished…well, he could still find some use for the little rat. She had powerful forces inside her and he could bend her will to match his, could use her to his own advantage. He was a master of pain and making a tiny little thing like her follow his will—it wouldn't be a problem.

But everything had gone south almost immediately. He'd fought the blond man and, once again, the man was more skilled than any human he'd ever encountered. It was baffling but he had no time to dwell on it now. He'd been stupid enough to lose the micro-card. And then he'd gotten pinned under a falling beam. Pain had radiated through his body and try as he might, he couldn't lift the beam (even he wasn't that strong) to free himself. For the first time, a little bit of panic entered his mind, much the way it would in a trapped wild animal. What would he do now—?

And then, to his intense astonishment, the girl and the man had worked together to help free him. He didn't understand why but he didn't question it, scrambling to his feet immediately, shaking off the pain in his legs. Did the fools think he'd show them mercy just because they helped them? Helping him had been their mistake. The Winter Soldier did not show mercy. He never even thought to show mercy.

But then the man had looked at him with his blue eyes and had begun speaking. Lies poured out of his mouth, just as HYDRA had told him they would. "He'll tell you anything," they had said, "to make you come over to his side. Do not fall for his tricks."

But he couldn't stop hearing him.

You know us.

My name is Steve Rogers.

Her name is Victoria Marsden.

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.

Fury built up inside him like a molten-hot tornado. He didn't want to hear these lies. He didn't want to hear this strange man with the blue eyes that pierced through him tell him any more slippery lies that made strange images rise in his mind and confused him. So he attacked him, screaming, "No you're not!" and "No, I don't!" while landing blow upon blow on his face. The man staggered back but did nothing to defend himself, which made him even more furious. Why wasn't the man fighting back? He could hear the girl yelling at them in the background, pleading, calling him that stupid name—

"Bucky?"

Something crashed behind them and he whirled in time to see the girl with the golden-auburn hair, Asset 56, scream and nearly slip off the edge and into the abyss. A momentary flash of panic resounded in his chest and then the blond man threw his shield at the girl, knocking her back. He tried to convince himself that the panic had been because she was his mission and if she fell, he would have failed in his mission to retrieve her. He didn't actually care if she fell or not.

He spun back around to see the blond man—Steve—somberly say, "I won't fight you. You're my friend." The man's eye was blackened. This enraged the Winter Soldier even more and he suddenly lunged at the man, pouncing on him and pinning him. "And you're my mission!" he shouted and then he began pounding on the man's face. He could hear Asset 56—the girl—Victoria?—screaming at him but she sounded distant, far away, as if she were under water…

"Then finish it," choked out the blond man, his face bruised and bloody, unbelievably smiling slightly. "Because…I'm with you till the end of the…line."

I'm with you till the end of the line.

It was like lightning had struck him. He froze, his fist raised in the air, as a feeling of being submerged in ice and then fire engulfed him. He—he had images—falling—someone screaming his name—the girl staring at him—

Did he know these people?

Suddenly a huge shrieking sound resounded from above them and, with an almighty crash, a huge chunk of the ceiling fell. He leaped back, staring wildly around in shock as the piece smashed through the floor. A falling beam smashed into the girl's head and he saw her eyes slide halfway closed before she fell through the hole. Spinning, he saw the blond man also fall as another falling beam smashed through the floor right next to him. The man and the young woman, they both fell to the water hundreds of feet below and he watched as if they were in slow motion, the shield slipping from the girl's loose grasp and glinting in the sun as it dropped. They were gone. They were dead. He'd failed—and succeeded—in his mission.

"Bucky?"

"You know us."

"I'm with you till the end of the line."

Pain stabbed through his gut and he suddenly made a decision, diving out of the hole and into the river hundreds of feet below.