Italics = Flashbacks

Italics + Bold = Dead

It's amazing how much destruction Steve can cause in 10 minutes. The noise he made alone was enough for me to slip into the compound unnoticed, but when he sent the motorcycle crashing into the front gate I was home free. Despite having agonized over the plan my part of it was fairly simple; thin out their ranks. While I was more than happy to do so I was still nervous about being separated from the Commandos, a nagging feeling hanging over my head. The only thing that kept me from going off mission was the near constant stream of Hydra agents.

I pulled my claws from the dead agent's chest as I lowered his body to the floor, stepping over him in a crouch towards the oncoming noise. I pressed myself to the wall as I went, the roar of footsteps coming from around the closest corner. I cocked my head and strained to listen, attempting to distinguish just how many of them were coming my. A flood of dread going through me when I counted 12.

"Fuck."

I stood off to the side watching the fellas put themselves together, trading weapons back and forth as they dug through the military crates. Steve stood in the center of the commotion, his attention now on his unloaded motorcycle, those sharp eyes of his making sure nothing was out of place. More than once I caught myself looking for Bucky, that blue coat of his hard to miss in a crowd, only to have to remind myself that he was gone. There was some dark irony in that, the company sniper being the first to die.

"Hey, Eleanor, ya in there?"

I pulled out of my thoughts and looked up to Jim. "What?"

"You went off somewhere," he told me, waving his fingers beside his head. "Ya back with us now?"

I cocked a smirk and shook my head. "Yeah, I'm back with you," I told him, unplanting my feet and stepping over to them. "Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize, love," Falsworth said, waving me off slightly. "We've all been off somewhere or other at some point."

I huffed out a laugh and turned my attention to the crate in front of them. "Alright, which one of you knows where they put my shit?"

It didn't take long for Steve to escape from his 'capture' and the others to make their appearance, the alarms bells and flashing lights signaling their arrival. It was only a matter of time before the whole thing imploded but that was the way these things went, tactical silence to chaotic uproar. Though I'd be lying if I said I'd have it any other way, shit tended to get done during chaotic uproar.

The distant sound of of vibranium hitting metal caught my attention and I took off down the corridor, getting to the junction just in time to watch a guy with twin flamethrowers walk past. I allowed myself a moment to be impressed before going after him, confident that he couldn't see me coming up from behind. Eyeing the gap between his helmet and neck guard I jumped up, hooked my arm around his shoulder and wrapped my legs around his waist before bringing my right arm up and down. A muffled scream left him as my claws pierced through his neck, his arms flailing slightly as he struggled to stay upright. I pulled my arm back and brought it down again, slanting my claws at a different angle to hit more arteries. Blood coated my knuckles as the man dropped to his knees, the flames dying just as he did. I righted my legs and planted my feet back on the ground, my claws pulling out as I went.

Cheers left the previously hindered soldiers as they ran past me, doing their best to avoid the fallen body.

"Perfect timing."

I turned my attention down the other hallway and found Steve jogging towards me, a bright smile on his face. "I aim to please, Captain," I teased before cocking an eyebrow. "Schmidt give ya the slip?"

Realization swept across his face and looked up in the direction the flamethrower guy had come from. "Shit. Come on," he said, stepping around me and taking off down the hall.

I did just that and followed after him, only glancing behind us to make sure the downed agent wasn't getting back up. "So, is it just me or is this going better than it should be?"

"Don't jinx us, honey," he chastised before gesturing forward. "Ladies first."

I looked ahead to find his shield lodged between two security doors, the metal on either side starting to buckle from the force of them trying to fully close. I chuckled and shook my head before pulling in front of him to duck down and slip between the gap. "He's heading for the hangar, isn't he?"

Steve caught up to me quickly, having just body slammed his shield free from the door. "He's gonna try to get that plane in the air," he explained. "He's going to be desperate. It's gonna be hell stopping him."

"Don't jinx us, soldier."

Vibranium was a light metal by nature but Steve's shield had never felt heavier. He had set it against the back tire of the bike as he tinkered with the motor, the red, white and blue metal shining in the light. I had picked it up with the simple intention of getting a closer look at it, the well-worn object having changed so much since the first time he raised it. Howard had tried to convince Steve to let him fix the bullet marks in the paint but he hadn't gone for it, saying that it proves it was more than just a symbol. Howard had thought it was silly but Steve was right, fixing the marks would have taken something from it.

"You know," I started, "I'm really glad you picked the shield."

She looked back to me. "Yeah?"

"You've been a shield your whole life, defending people who can't defend themselves," I mused, running my hand across the rough surface. "It's only right that you have your own."

A soft smile pulled at his lips. "That's an awfully romantic way of looking at it," he accused, straightening up from the bike. "Downright poetic."

"It's is," I agreed with a smile of my own, "but that doesn't make it any less true."

He didn't argue and simply nodded.

I watched him for a moment before leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, making sure to make it as sloppy as possible.

Steve chuckled and leaned into me, his arms coming up to wrap about my waist.

The hangar was a ridiculous structure. Nearly three times the size of the rest of the base it held crate upon crate of weapons and ammunition. A worryingly large bomber plane sat in the middle of the chaotic uproar, Hydra agents and U.S. soldiers running around like chickens with their heads cut off, bullets and energy blasts flying between the two armies.

"Well this is horrible," I muttered, surveying the floor for Scmidt when I caught sight of the propellers on the bomber kick up. "Shit! Come on!" I called, stepping around him and taking off towards the plane.

Getting across the hangar was harder than we would have liked, the Hydra agents turning their attention towards us once they noticed us. Despite our best efforts it was disturbingly obvious that we wouldn't be able to catch up to the bomber on foot, but that wasn't going to stop us from trying. It wasn't till the heavy sound of a diesel engine sounded from behind us did I regain the hope I'd lost.

"Get in!" Chester called as he pulled Johann's eight wheeled monstrosity of a car up beside us.

I snagged the back of Steve's uniform and pulled him to the car, not bothering with the door as I jumped up into the backseat. "We can get in with the landing gear if we make it in time," I told him.

"Hold on," he said, punching the throttle once Steve had dropped down into the passenger's seat.

The bomber picked up speed but surprisingly the car kept pace with it, the diesel engine roaring over the sound of the bombers jets. Up ahead the hangar doors slid open and the bomber accelerated, gearing up to take off.

"Chester, push it!"

He glanced down at the dashboard and pushed the big red button that he probably shouldn't have pushed. Fire erupted from the sides of the car and it lurched forward, throwing us back into our seats.

With the added power we quickly caught up to the back of the plane, the back propellers catching on the hood of the car.

"Keep it steady!" Steve yelled as he pulled himself from the passenger's seat to hang on the side of the car, eyeing the closest landing gear.

I pulled in a deep breath and pushed myself up, crawling over the front seat. "This is gonna be easy, right?!"

Chester looked between me and Steve, an incredulous look on his face. "Don't jinx us!"

I laughed and moved up and over the windshield, sliding down the hood. I glanced back to Steve to find him making his way down the sideboard of the car, his shield once again on his back as he pressed flush with the hood. A spike of fear shot through me when the car veered towards a propeller and I reached out to grab his shoulder, pulling him up a little higher just in time for it to hit the shield instead of his head. I hooked my hand under his arm and pulled him up beside me. Together we made our way to the front of the car, a sturdy grip on each other as Chester struggled to keep the car steady between the two propellers. Steve shuffled in front of me and rose shakily to his feet, the grip I had on his utility belt keeping him balanced.

"We're losing runway, Ellie!" Steve yelled back.

I peered around him and my stomach dropped, the edge of the runway getting closer and closer. "We'll have to jump!" I shouted back, joining him on my feet and putting both hands on his belt.

He nodded and shifted his stance, his attention now zeroed in on the landing gear.

"One! Two! Three!" I counted off, using my grip on his belt to help launch him as he jumped. I watched with a stuttering heart as Steve reached out, grabbing hold of whatever he could to keep himself on the wheel. I smiled when I saw that he was good and shuffled back to make my won jump.

"HOLD ON!"

My footing slipped when the car suddenly slammed on it's brakes and turned. I hit the hood on my side, arms and legs flailing to find purchase so I didn't hit the tarmac. In an act of desperation I attempted to put my claws through the metal, a scream of pain leaving me when one of them broke on impact. The other one, however, made it through and kept me on the car as Chester tried to keep the car from going over the edge. I crammed my eyes shut and waited for the free fall but by some miracle only the back wheels went over.

"You alright?!"

I gave Chester a nod and turned to look at the airborne Valkyrie, watching as Steve was pulled up into the plane with the wheel. "Fuck," I sighed in disappointment, the prospect of him having to end this alone breaking my head.

"Alright, Howlies, gather round!"

We looked over and found Timothy holding up a bottle of whiskey and a stack of shot glasses.

"Where'd ya pull those out of, Dum Dum?" Steve teased as he walked over.

"Pulled them from his hat, didn't he," Falsworth tacked on with a snicker.

Timothy laughed sarcastically and held the shot glasses out. "Just take one, assholes," he instructed.

Doing just that he unscrewed the whiskey and filled them to the brim, tucking the bottle into his jacket once everyone had some. "When this mess started," he said, clearing his throat, "I don't think most of us expected to live through it."

Murmurs of agreement left us.

"And I don't know if we'll make it through this either but I thought we owed it to the one who helped us get this far," he continued, holding his shot glass up. "So I propose a toast to our Sergeant, who kept the devil off our backs when we were too dumb to do it ourselves."

"To Bucky!" we chanted before throwing back the shots.

Unable to dislodge the car from the edge of the cliff we had to hoof it back by foot, neither of us voicing what we were thinking. By the time we made it across the hangar the Commandos and U.S. soldiers had taken control of the situation, the chaotic uproar back to tactful silence. The Hydra agents that had the sense to surrender were cuffed and lined up along the floor, the soldiers working to gather up the discarded weapons. With a bit of directional help we found the command center fairly easy, the Howlies already gathered around the radio station.

"Come in! This is Captain Rogers! Do you read me?!" Steve's voice called from the speakers.

Jim, our go-to for radio communications, already had hold of the receiver and was ready to reply. "We read you, Captain."

Moving across the room faster than I thought I could I had the receiver out of his hand and him out of the way. "Steve, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Scmidt's is dead and the Tesseract is gone!"

I let out a relived sigh and slumped against the table. "Good job, soldier. What about the plane? Can you turn it around?"

"That's a little harder to answer," he admitted, a hint of panic in his voice. "The consoles shot to hell. The dials are all over the place, I'm not getting an accurate reading on anything."

I cursed silently and looked over to the fellas. "Find me an area map," I ordered before turning back to the radio. "That's okay, we can do it manually. It's just gonna take a little time," I reassured him.

"Ellie, I don't have a lot of time. This thing's moving too fact and we're heading straight for New York."

Now I was starting to panic. "No, no, Steve, all we have to do is figure out where you are. If you're on a straight track for New York than we can-"

"Honey, I'm in the middle of nowhere," he interrupted.

"We can find a safe landing spot," I argued just as Gabe rushed over with a torn down wall map, spreading it across the table. "We just need a little time."

"No matter what we do it's going in the water," he told me, the panic in his voice replaced with a sickening calm. "If I force it down now, here, then I've got a better shot at saving a lot of lives."

I desperately looked over map, trying to guesstimate on where he would be, my panic building and building with each second that went by. "I understand that, Steve, but please," I pleaded. "There has to be a way."

Steve took an agonizing moment in reply. "I'm sorry, Ellie. I'm so fucking sorry."

My breath hitched and I dropped my head, hiding the tears that streaked down my cheeks from the others.

"Honey?"

I sniffed hard and wiped at my face. "Mon cher?" I replied, my voice cracking.

"I'm gonna need a rain check in Ireland."

My heart broke when I realized what he was doing. I pulled in another shaky breath and nodded. "That's okay, it's not going anywhere. It'll wait for us."

"We'll find a nice house by the water," he said. "With a great view and a rose garden."

I choked on a sob and lowered myself to my knees, taking the receiver with me. "And a studio so you can paint again," I added. "Maybe we could get a dog too? I've always wanted one."

"Yeah, honey, we can get a dog," he agreed with a weak chuckle. "I was allergic before, you know? Couldn't be around 'em without my asthma kicking up."

A picture of Steve before the serum popped up in my head and it took everything in me not to completely break down. "You've missed out on so much," I found myself saying.

"Yeah, but you'll help me catch up."

"Of course I will," I answered without hesitation. "We've got...we've got the rest of our lives."

There was a heavy pause before Steve spoke again. "I love you, Eleanor. So much."

"I love you too, Steve. Day by day, mon cher."

"Day by-"

My heart stopped when he was cut off by static. "Steve?" I asked, silently praying to whoever was listening that the line would reconnect and I'd hear his voice again. "Steve?!"

There was nothing but static.

"He's-he's not- no," I stuttered out, letting the receiver fall to the floor as I pushed back up to my feet. "He's not-"

Jim, being the closest to me, reached out to grab me.

I jerked back from and bumped into the table, one hand shooting down to grab the edge while the other came up to ward them off. "He's not gone," I repeated, my tone defensive. "He's not. He can't be."

The Commandos looked between each other, silently asking how they were going to handle me.

"No! No, you don't get to do that!" I snapped at them. "You don't get to just accept it! You don't! Not after what we've seen! What we've been through!"

"You're right," Falsworth spoke up, holding his hands up in surrender as he stepped closer. "We're sorry, love. You're right. We don't know. Right, chaps?

"Right," they chorused, sharing looks again.

Gabe shuffled around and took hold of the corner of the map, tugging it out from under me. "We'll get Howard," he stated, his voice soothing, "and we'll help him figure out where Steve went down, alright?"

"I'll get him, "Chester said, the look on his face clearly stating that he'd rather be anywhere else.

I shook my head as I thought that through, the thought of the time it would take to accomplish that twisting my stomach. "That's not-that's not good enough," I argued as I lowered my now shaking hand down to my side. "I have to know now."

"We know, darlin', but you can't," Timothy said, his face set in a firm frown. "We gotta wait."

I snarled in frustration and looked away from them, contemplating on whether or not I could go out on my own when a realization struck me. My head snapped down to look at the glock in my holster. "Morte."

That caught Gabe's attention. "Who's Mort?"

"Me fais-tu confiance? (do you trust me?)" I asked, running my thumb over the hilt guard to snap it open.

"Bien sur, nous faisons (of course, we do)," Jacques answered, appearing beside Gabe. "Qu'est-ce que voics avez besoin de nous? (what do you need from us?)"

I pulled in a deep breath as I curled my fingers around the hilt of the gun. "J'ai besoin de toi pour m'attraper (I need you to catch me)," I told them, cocking the gun and raising it to my head. I hesitated just long enough to hear several shouts before pulling the trigger.

I was greeted with an unfamiliar black. Disoriented and scared I stumbled forward, a startled gasp leaving me when I head splashing. Looking down I was surprised to find inky water lapping at my ankles, the expected chill of it not there. Despite there being no obvious light the water shined and sparkled, ripples spreading out with every move I made.

"Morte?" I asked with a shaking voice, the sound echoing off the water.

I didn't receive an answer.

"Morte?!" I called, picking a direction and starting forward.

The lack of light made gauging distance impossible, merely trusting my pace to get me somewhere.

"Morte!" I called again. "Please! Where are you?!"

Nothing by echoes.

"Morte, it's Steve! Please!"

Moving suddenly became harder and upon inspection I found that the water had swelled up to my knees.

"No, no, no, no, Morte, please!" I pleaded, pushing myself forward. "Please, don't do this to me!"

The water thickened and rose again, the inkiness soaking into the hem of my shirt. Despite the added resistance I continued forward, convinced that if I kept moving I'd eventually find her. I don't know how long I walked for or how many times I called her name, but I only stopped when the water reached my chin and became as thick as concrete.

Now sobbing I raised my head as far as it would go, searching the darkness for anything and everything. "I-I'm berring, Morte. Please. I just...I just need to know if he's d-dead. Please. Just t-tell me that. Please."

The answering silence sent me into hysterics.

And there you have it! The final chapter of the Captain America: The First Avenger part of Forever Vigilant. A few of you have asked and I've answered, but I'll put here just in case anyone else wants to know. Forever Vigilant will continue on through the rest of the MCU story lines, including the X-Men and possibly some of the Netflix series.

Stay tuned for some more heartache.

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