A/N: Thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and the brainstorming. And to Lady Pandora, and Black' Victor Cachat for additional brainstorming.

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take,

towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

Namaste,

Sunny

Captain America

Echoes in the Memory

Chapter 50

The Lockwood Home

Springfield, Virginia

The Lockwood home was filled with family, though not for a happy occasion. Carolyn, her husband Martin, Serenity, Collin, and Carolyn's siblings were all on their phones.

"Has anyone gotten through to Chase or Mia?" They all shook their heads. "What about Dad, Natasha or Steve?" Again, a negative reply. "I talked to Joi. She, Elyse, and Frank are okay."

Serenity signed, Anything more about what's going on downtown?

Getting to his feet, Steve James, who had been monitoring the news coverage of the shootout, signed and spoke, "Nothing more. Looks like the first responders are still taking away the dead and injured."

Michael and Olivia called all the hospitals in the area. They haven't been admitted, Collin told them.

Suzanna went to take the remote from the table next to Steven James. "Are you certain you saw Steve and the others being arrested? There was so much confusion, the news agencies all giving different information."

Steve James held his wife's hand. "No. Not really. The video was taken from a helicopter, and the people being arrested were surrounded by a huge SWAT team. But the blonde looked like Steve."

Coming from the kitchen with a pot of coffee and cups, Jacob set it all on the coffee table. "While the coffee was brewing, I called the carriers. Their phones are all turned off. Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," was Carolyn's response. "According to Dad, Natasha never turns hers off. And Chase has to be available for his IT company and Tunnel Vision."

"With their phones off, it doesn't make sense to keep calling. We've left tons of messages," Martin added. He looked at the clock. "Let's all go home and get some rest, and if anyone hears anything pertinent, call or text."

Insight Helicarrier Hangar Bay

Mia's leap was a little short. Leaning out, Bucky grabbed her hand as she fell, holding on until she stopped swaying, and was able to grab onto a rung with her free hand. She jerked out of his grip, holding onto the metal bars, and panting. Bucky was proud of the way his granddaughter hadn't screamed, trusting him to keep her safe. "You okay? Did I hurt you?"

Pressing her forehead against her hands holding onto the rung, she shook no. "I-I'm fine, Gramps. Just let me catch my breath."

"I don't have a problem with it, but the bad guys have other plans. Like blowing the ship up rather than letting SHIELD have control."

Finally, Mia looked up. "What good would it do? From what Nat and Steve tell us, SHIELD would be able to reverse engineer the tech."

"A last-ditch effort to save face? 'If we're going to hell, you're going too?' Let's go get this over with." Assuming she would be right behind him, Bucky climbed up two more hatches, and kept going so Mia could do her thing. She shorted out the system, wedged her fingers into the door jamb, and forced it open. Once his granddaughter was inside, he joined her. He headed down the hallway, stopping when she grabbed his backpack, and pointed in the other direction.

Signing this is it, Mia let Bucky know they'd reached their destination. She opened the door, and took off her backpack as they stepped out onto a platform from which a catwalk extended over a forty to fifty foot drop onto a set of windows braced with a metal alloy, according to Steve.

On the other side was a tower with a walkway that went around it, like the top of a lighthouse. Bucky dug in the side pocket of the backpack and took out two blades. One was an alteration to the targeting computers, and the other removed the commands that allowed the helicarriers to lift off.

Once that was done, it was up to Mia to use a blast of electricity to damage the door controls so they opened before the bay lifted out of the river, flooding the bay so the helicarriers couldn't take off. The problem with that was the number of crew on board. No one wanted them to die, but it was a numbers game. Several hundred on the helicarriers, or millions of innocent civilians.

To Bucky, the choice was simple. Save the guiltless at the expense of the guilty.

~~O~~

Sharon regained consciousness to find herself being carried. She didn't know who it was, but he was strong, and fast. He went into an unoccupied room, and lay her on the floor. Kneeling beside her, he lightly slapped her cheeks. "Wake up. C'mon. Wake up, and listen."

She pushed his hand away, and blinked in the bright overhead lights that silhouetted his form. Long hair, and black clothing were all she could see. "Stop! Ima wake."

"Listen to me. You have to get off this ship now. Don't hesitate, don't stop. Just go."

Pressing her hands into the floor, Sharon tried to sit up. "Can't. Gotta stop HYDRA. Steve's countin' on me. Already let 'im down once. Can't do it again."

There was a pause. Then, her savior whispered, "You know Steve Rogers?"

"Sorta. Was assigned to protect 'im." She fell back, and squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, man! I have the worst headache."

"That's from the lack of oxygen. Keep taking deep breaths. You'll be fine." He brushed the hair out of her face. "I need you to give him a message." Sharon's consciousness wavered again, and she felt dizzy. "Please. Can you do this for me?"

Her right hand patted the floor until she felt his leg, and he took her hand, holding tight, but not too much so. "'Kay. Whass da message?"

The man's voice spoke, but she could barely understand the words. Then, the dizziness abated enough that Sharon could think again. She opened her eyes, and sat up, finding herself alone. At first, she thought she'd dreamt the man, but then she found a boot print on the floor next to her, and a smudge that could be from the knee of his pants. Getting to her feet, she held onto the edge of the desk through another dizzy spell, breathing steadily, and soon she could think clearly once more. Did she really hear a man's voice, or was it oxygen-starved delirium?

She patted her pockets, and found her weapons hadn't been taken. Small favors… At least she was still on the helicarrier. Touching her face confirmed that she no longer had the mask. Had the man who saved her removed it, or did it come off while Brookes was choking the life out of her?

Checking the hall, Sharon slipped out, slowly making her way back to where Brookes had tried to kill her. The mask was on the floor. She shoved it into a pocket, and kept going. The best way to stop the helicarrier from getting into the air was to disable the systems two level down from the bridge. While working, she would need both hands free, and be vulnerable to attack. She needed someone to watch her back. Should've brought Cam. He could do the work while I stand guard. Too late now.

Hearing someone coming, and not knowing if that person was HYDRA or SHIELD, Sharon hid in an office until they went by.

On the move again, she made it all the way to the level where the targeting computers were housed without any real plan for stopping the ship. As she got closer, the sound of someone breathing reached her ears. She didn't want to shoot the person, but they probably wouldn't give her a choice.

Counting to three in her head, Sharon readied her weapon, and spun out onto the platform, coming face to face with the last person she wanted to see. "Frankie."

"Shar." Her now ex-girlfriend didn't look surprised to see her. "What're you doing here? Thought you'd be defending SHIELD's center of operations."

"And I thought…" Sharon relaxed her stance slightly straightening her hunched posture, and Frankie did as well. "How can you be a part of this? These people don't care about you. You're disposable, a redshirt. They would kill you without a second thought if there was even a hint of betrayal."

Frankie made a sound of frustration. "You just don't understand, and never will." She took a step closer, letting the muzzle of her weapon dip toward the floor. "You see the world as you want it to be. I see it as it is. War, poverty, disease, hunger, crime… HYDRA has a plan to end it all."

Sharon's hands clenched on the AR-15. "Sounds like you think humanity is a sickness."

"People in general aren't so bad. But when they get together in groups, they become a mindless creature that will trample anything and everything in its path. Society, not just ours, but all over the world, is becoming a cancer. Sometimes the only way to rid the body of the disease is to excise it, cut it out."

"And some of the healthy tissue has to be sacrificed to make sure you get it all." The light in Frankie's eyes changed at the comment. Like she thought Sharon was beginning to see things her way. "Who?" The other woman shook her head, confused by the question. "Who recruited you into HYDRA?"

For the first time since they met, Frankie appeared ashamed. She let the hand holding her weapon fall down by her side. "Never told you where I grew up. Miami Gardens, Florida. The murder rate there is more than five times the national average. The city is ruled by at least a dozen gangs operating within its borders. It's nearly ******* impossible to break the cycle of poverty and violence. It just goes on and on." Their eyes met again. "I graduated high school, barely, but I did it. The next day, I hopped a bus out of town, and didn't look back. Trouble was I didn't know any other life than drugs and violence, and got involved with a group who made their living stealing high end cars, and selling them for parts."

"What happened?"

Turning away, Frankie looked out the transparent enclosure, her voice taking on a dream-like quality. "What always happens, Shar. We got caught. Police raided the place, took us all in to be booked. Seems one of the guys was an undercover." Frankie shrugged one shoulder. "So my public defender comes up with the idea to keep me outta jail by enlisting in the military. The judge accepts, and I'm off to the Marines.

"That's where I met Asa Rollins. He was my squad leader. The first time I copped a 'tude with him, he set me straight. Called me on my big mouth, and push-back of authority. It took a while, but eventually, I became a model soldier.

"Our tours were up at the same time, mine and Asa's. He went to work for SHIELD, and asked me to come along. Year or so in, he introduces me to this guy, didn't tell me his name, but he had a lot to say. Convinced me that HYDRA was the best hope for saving our world."

Unable to believe that the woman she cared for was repeating propaganda that had been fed to her over the years, Sharon said nothing, for the moment. What was there to say? All she'd done was love Frankie, not help her do a one eighty when she was headed down a destructive path. That was the problem with caring deeply about someone. You always hope your love will be enough, but it never is. They're with you, yet not, certain that there's something better down the road, no matter how long or how far they have to walk.

Frankie's ponytail swung around to hang over her right shoulder as she turned at a sound from the hallway. Sharon turned at the same time, both women aiming their weapons at the open door. To anyone else, it would look like they were on the same side. But looks can be, and are, deceiving.

The noise wasn't repeated. And they both relaxed somewhat, their eyes meeting once more. Frankie turned to the side. "Aren't you going say something?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this? Not about HYDRA, but what it was like for you growing up? I would've understood."

Shaking her head sadly, Frankie looked at the floor. "No, you wouldn't. Your life was filled with privilege, a loving family, never wanting for anything. You don't know what it's like to always wonder where your next meal is coming from, or if you'll go hungry, sitting in the dark, listening to the rats in the walls because your single mom couldn't afford to pay the electric bill when she lost her job, and the choice was food and electric, or living on the street. You've never been afraid to walk down to the park to play because the gang members harass you, and call you names, push you around, and laugh about it." For the first time since they'd known each other, Sharon saw tears in Frankie's eyes. "And you weren't standing next to your older brother when he was killed in a drive-by."

Sharon reached out, and after a moment, Frankie took the offering. She moved in close, taking the other woman in her arms, and they stood there, holding onto each other.

They put space between them, and Sharon saw Frankie's hand tighten on the trigger of her weapon. "I know why you're here. It's my job to stop you."

"And you know I can't let you."

One side of Frankie's mouth turned up. "Yeah."

In an instant, the atmosphere changed, and aggression filled the air. The AR-15 wouldn't be practical in close quarters. However, it could be used as a bludgeon. Her thumb flipped the safety on, and relief whispered through her when Frankie did the same, bringing her own weapon up to block Sharon's attack.

Though she was the taller of the two, Sharon wasn't as strong as Frankie. She would have to make up for it with skill.

~~O~~

When Justin came on board Bravo, he intended to destroy the ship himself. Then he discovered that Steve and a group of friends were already on the job.

He'd stopped the man from choking the life out of the blonde woman. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered meeting her in the lobby of an old apartment building. The name Kate blinked like a neon sign about to burn out. In his memory, he associated her with Steve, and so he used her to send the super-soldier a message.

Tell my family I love them, but I can't come home just yet. Tell them… Tell them not to look for me.

How could he be around the people he loved with his mind filled with the **** that HYDRA had put in it? He didn't trust himself, and being with them would only put their lives in danger.

As his memory came back a little at a time, faces floated in and out of Justin's mind. People that he'd killed while in a hypnotic state, and then later, as this thing he'd been turned into. Zeya had called him the Winter Soldier, and he gathered that he'd taken his grandfather's place. By listening when the doctors and soldiers thought he didn't understand, Justin found out that he'd replaced Gramps in this capacity. Not out of vengeance for Gramps getting away. But because that had been the plan all along. HYDRA had simply moved up the timetable when Gramps had broken free of their hold.

In the decades that HYDRA had been using his grandfather, the doctors had learned from their mistakes. Their biggest had been allowing their "asset" to lead a normal life, and bring him in only when they needed his services. He might've gone on like that for the rest of his life, if it hadn't been for Natasha.

Justin smiled as he made his way to the deck. He admired Natasha in so many ways. Some of which he still couldn't recall. Most of all, he appreciated her for what she'd done for Gramps. She got him out of that dusty museum, and living again. Really living.

More faces skimmed through his memory. Most of the names, he remembered. All but one. The woman with the dark hair. The one that made him feel warm all over. Why couldn't he remember her name?

Voices came from the hallway to his right, unfamiliar, harsh. More HYDRA goons, as Gramps would say. If they found him, he would have to go along with whatever they said, and Justin had his own mission: to find Alexander Pierce… and kill him.

~~O~~

Steve used the shield to gain entry into the helicarrier. Chase could've hacked the lock, but this was quicker. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw a man in black sneaking back into the building. Light from the control room reflected off of metal, and a red star came into sight just before he disappeared.

Justin!

A hand gripped his shoulder, and Chase followed Steve down the first hallway. But he couldn't get Justin out of his mind. He had to know if his brother could be reclaimed, turned back into the man he once was.

He crouched at the corner across from Steve, and like inside the building, waited for Steve to go ahead. Though he was expected to join him, Chase waited until the super-soldier was out of the line of sight to turn around and return the way they'd come. He made it without being caught, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Cocking his head to the side, he heard footsteps at the far edge of his hearing. They echoed slightly, telling Chase that someone had gone into the stairwell, and was heading up. Hoping against hope that it was his brother, he eased the door open, and began the climb. There was light. Not much, but more than enough to see by.

When Chase reached a floor in the mid-thirties, he found the door had been left slightly ajar. There wasn't a window, so he took a chance. Wedging his fingers into the crack, he eased the door open, and quickly stepped through, holding the door so it wouldn't slam.

He didn't know what this floor was used for, but it was so dark, at first he could only see amorphous shapes that may or may not be desks, file cabinets, chairs, and other office detritus. Not even the emergency lights were on.

Hefting his weapon, he let his left shoulder brush the wall to keep from getting lost. As long as he didn't wander off, he'd be able to find the stairwell again, or even another. A place this big had to have more than one.

The creaks and pops of the building settling, as well as the staccato beat of weapons fire, and fighting mixed together in a kind of musical tune, but in there, underneath the song was another. A shoe on carpeting, a short inhale, the whisper of clothing against skin. Whatever it was, it meant he wasn't alone.

With his sharpened senses, he could feel that the air he passed through was slightly warmer than that behind him. The other person had been here within the last minute or so. Chase recalled watching a movie where a blind man's other senses had become more sensitive with the loss of his sight at a young age, allowing him to navigate his world without the use of a cane except in large crowds. That's how he knew to duck when his opponent swung a fist at his head.

Chase let go of the AR-15, and it hit the carpet with a muted thump. He drove his fist into the other man's ribs, and hooked a foot behind his leg, sending him stumbling backward. He righted himself, and the two engaged in earnest.

His opponent was fast, and agile, and he could take a punch. They moved around the room, knocking over chairs, pushing computers, phones, and other crap onto the floor. Chase did his best to avoid tripping over things, noting idly that the other man smelled like he hadn't bathed in weeks.

The other man swung left then right, over and over, missing Chase's head by less than an inch most times. He could feel the warmth of his skin when it did connect, and the power behind those punches. Chase made contact nearly as often, yet the man barely reacted except when he got him in the solar plexus.

Then, not the worst-case scenario, but not good, happened. Chase tripped on an overturned chair, and fell backwards, landing on his back. He could see better now that his eyes had adjusted, and didn't much care for the dark form lurking above him.

It leapt over the chair. Chase rolled away at the last second, and got to his feet, but before he could get his defenses up, the man got him around the throat with one hand. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to inhale, or he'd run out of oxygen before he could get free.

He twisted and turned, punched and kicked, trying to break the other man's hold, but couldn't. In a last-ditch effort to save his own life, he wrapped both hands around his opponent's wrist, feeling not the warmth of flesh and blood, but the smooth hardness of metal.

Giving it all he had, Chase wedged his thumbs under the bottom edge of the palm, managing to get enough room to take another breath, and speak a few words, "Justin, stop! Please!"

The pressure on his windpipe vanished, and Chase fell to hands and knees, panting, and coughing. With a groan, he sat back on his heels, hands on his thighs. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he coughed again, and was about to stand when a hand grabbed him under the left arm, and dragged him to his feet, and back the way they'd come.

Chase's foot hit something. He jerked free to pick up the AR-15.

Then, the hand was back, gripping his arm like a vise, and pulling him along until they came to the stairwell door. It opened, and he was shoved unceremoniously through hard enough that he fell against the railing. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Chase turned around, and just as he hoped, the man standing in front of him was his long-lost twin.

Justin's boyish looks had been replaced by distrust, and hardness. Chase reached out to hug his brother, but Justin stepped back at the last second, avoiding the touch. Chase curled his fingers into loose fists, and let them drop to his sides. "Do you remember me, Justin?"

Eyes the same color of blue as his own searched his face with an unreadable expression, and for a moment, Chase didn't think he would answer. He did not appear to be happy to see him.

"What are you doing here, Chase?"

TBC

Miami Gardens, Florida - While the overall crime rate has notably dropped in recent years, the town continues to have a murder rate more than five times the national average and there are at least a dozen known gangs operating in its borders. Since incorporating as its own city in 2003, city leaders have tried to redevelop the city and attract business investments to break the cycle of poverty and violence, but gains are slow. (Info on Miami Gardens, Florida was found online. The information here is a direct copy and paste from the site.)