Rescue and retrieval. Corrie's life changes forever.

Trigger warnings for mentions and portrayals of torture and violence.

All errors are my own and unintentional. Would love to hear your thoughts.

Rescue Mission Redux.

The house is palatial. White stone, sprawling in size. According the building plans she'd discovered, there are more rooms than sense for three people but she doesn't think that's something that would've gone through her ex-husband's head at the time. It's opulent, that's the look he'll be going for, the size won't matter.

The property screams wealth, privilege. He has aspirations. If Bucky is here then those aspirations are big, confident. She just wonders how much research he's done into his latest acquisition.

Her primary mission right now is to locate her child. The rest of the team will locate Bucky. She has no doubt that she will encounter her ex-husband and the thought of it sends a trickle of cold sweat down her spine. Bucky has said that she can handle her ex, has confidence in her being able to do so but that's just a theory right now. In an ideal world, she'd locate Rory and get her out of there without coming across him but she knows that won't happen. She knows that he will fight her every step of the way to keep her from taking her. His mistake will be thinking that she's still the girl he left in a pool of blood in that flat in London.

"You okay?" Sam keeps his voice low.

Corrie glances at him. She nods, just the once, eyes ahead again.

"I would tell you to stay behind me at all times but we both know you're going to ignore that," he begins. "I also know you can take care of yourself but be careful. We're here to locate your daughter and Bucky and get them both out. That's it, that's our mission. Don't go looking for trouble if it's not in your way, do you understand me?" For a moment she doesn't answer. "Corrie? Do you understand me?" he repeats. Eventually she makes eye contact with him.

"I understand," she responds, keeping her voice level.

"Make sure that you do because the minute I sense that you don't, you will be stood down, I don't care what your reason for being here is." It gets the desired effect and he sees the mutinous glint in her eye. "Don't you look at me like that, you know I'll do it," he tags on.

"I know you will," she replies and her shoulders slump for a moment before straightening again. "I guess you're calling the shots here tonight, Sam," she tells him.

Sam's inclines his head very slightly. "Damn straight I am and don't you forget it. I already think it's a bad idea you being here so don't make me regret it."

"My being here was non-negotiable, Sam," she reminds him. He just regards her.

"I don't care. You step out of line and you'll be out of here. Got it?"

"Got it," she mutters.

She ignores the steady thrum of her pulse as the team gains access to the house. This is new for her. She's used to being back at base, monitoring. She's not used to being in the thick of it and that she's not the one in charge. She's clad in black: close fitting canvas pants, a long sleeved tight black shirt with a Kevlar vest over it. A knife holster is strapped to her right thigh, a gun holster to her left. Her weapon is held tight in her hand. She's fully trained in both. Once she left hospital and recuperated from her injuries, Fury made sure she could defend herself. Natasha helped her polish her skills and some of the best weapons experts at SHIELD taught her how to handle a gun. She knows that she can look after herself but coming so soon after telling Bucky and Sam about her ex and now being in the same building as him, has unnerved her slightly. She keeps telling herself to look on him as any other adversary and not the father of her child, not the man who terrorised, controlled and beat her. She keeps reminding herself that she's not that scared woman of before, that she's faced up to worse people than him but her head and her heart aren't quite getting the same message. She still feels a tremor of fear at the thought of coming face to face to him again.

Outside, a separate team are locating and securing any and all people affiliated with Patrick Donoghue.

Inside, the group separate and begin to search. They swarm through the estate like ants and each report back that their location is clear. Corrie follows three operatives up a sweeping staircase and onto the first floor. Methodically they check each room and there are quite a few of them. So many bedrooms for three people. The silence is heavy, pressing down and it unsettles her even more. There's nobody here. She refuses to let herself feel disappointed. They have to still be here somewhere. She checks the monitor attached to her wrist. The tracker in Bucky's arm is still telling her that he's here, the red dot blinking steadily. Jason had been absolutely confident that there was no way anyone would locate it in a sweep. He was quite proud of that fact so she has to believe that he's being held here somewhere nearby.

"Any sign?" Sam's voice in her ear.

"Nothing."

"Same." She can hear the frustration in his voice.

"Wouldn't a place like this have a safe room? Maybe they're hidden in there?"

"Maybe but this place is like a ghost town, they can't all hide in there with them."

"Maybe they're protecting Bucky?" she suggests. It would make sense. He's a valuable asset to someone so would make sure he's protected but it wouldn't explain how quiet it is in here.

"Ms Harris?" Another voice interrupts. One of their operatives. She pauses.

"Go ahead," she instructs.

"We've found a body."

"Male or female?"

"Female. Young."

Corrie's heart plunges to the pit of her stomach.

"Where are you?" Her voice is barely a whisper.

"The East Wing," the voice supplies.

"You need to stay calm now Corrie," Sam's voice again. Cautionary. She feels her heart begin to flutter in her chest. Fear begins to emerge.

"I am calm," she assures him.

"It might not be her," he tacks on.

"It'd explain the distinct lack of ex-husband and his band of not so merry men though." Her voice wobbles.

"Let me go and check it out for you," he volunteers. Corrie takes a slow deep breath to centre herself.

"No. I need to do this."

"No you don't."

"Sam. I have to. Don't make me pull rank on you,"

"Don't you mean don't make me?" he corrects, his tone sharpening. She sighs and slowly shakes her head instead.

"I'll meet you there," she tells him and then looks at the operative who stands guard beside her and waits.

"I'm going to the East Wing. You need to keep searching here. Anything untoward and you let me or Sam know."

She sees him shake his head.

"I have strict orders to keep you in sight at all times, Ms Harris," he responds.

"Whose orders?" she demands, all of a sudden belligerent and tired of being coddled.

"Captain America's," he explains and she sighs again.

"Why am I not surprised?" she mutters and she turns around.

Her heart continues to pulse, threatening to burst out of her chest as she heads to the East Wing. The operative remains beside her like a shadow. It doesn't do anything to ease her mood but she made a promise to Sam and like it or not, she intends to keep it.

Another row of doors greets her at her left. Halfway along the corridor she sees Sam poke his head out and he looks at her. His expression is sombre. Part of her wants him to tell her who the body belongs to but she doesn't. He waits until she's beside him.

"In here," he tells her and watches her go inside.

They're inside what can only be described as the master bedroom. Decorated in various shades of blue, it's all very masculine in its décor and she has a strange sense of déjà vu as she enters.

"She's in the bathroom," Sam informs her as Corrie pauses for a second to get her bearings. It's a huge space with a king sized bed up against one plain white wall.

"Door's already open," he adds on and Corrie takes a slow deep breath and heads towards it.

She takes a couple of tentative steps inside. Everything is white, brilliantly blindingly white. She sees the shower, the deep claw footed tub and the girl lying in a crumpled heap beside it. The blood that rings her head is deeply, offensively red. Corrie swallows against a suddenly dry throat and she carefully approaches her and pauses beside her. She crouches down and for a moment she just looks at her. Her dark hair is tossed over her face and she cautiously moves a swatch of it away, revealing her face to her.

She recognises her only the last time she saw her was in her wedding photographs. She'd been smiling in them, a wide happy adoring smile. In her white designer bridal gown, looking forward to her future with the man she loved. A man very good at showing the world one face when in truth the other was much darker, much crueller.

She's blackened by bruises, swollen. Battered. Eyes still open, staring up at the ceiling, the whites blotched with more red. Corrie looks down and sees more bruises, blackberry purple, around her throat. She exhales shakily and feels tears brim. For a moment she's just grateful it isn't her daughter's body she's looking at.

"Damn it," she whispers and wipes away the tears that spill over. She looks at the tub and she sees the smear of red that marks the white marble. She can see long dark hairs entwined in there too. She gently presses two fingers against the pulse point in her neck. Her skin is cooling. She's been gone a little while. She gets to her feet and turns and sees Sam just inside the entrance watching her.

"It's Alexandra French," she confirms.

"He beat her."

"It looks like it. I doubt a simple fall caused any of those injuries." She scans the body again and gives her head a shake as she looks back at him.

"He did the same to you." She nods all of a sudden exhausted.

"He did. Difference was I was saved by Fury. She didn't have that. I need to find my daughter." She brushes past Sam. If she's still here and Patrick hasn't got the jump on her again and vanished once more into the ether. She goes into the bedroom and stops in the centre of the large room. Sam follows and sees how she pauses.

Her head tilts to one side very slightly as a thought comes to her. And she wonders.

A house this big, there's always a dressing room. After all she'd had one.

As well as a lot of hiding spaces.

She crosses the room and opens a plain white door.

She's right, she realises as she steps inside the room.

There are racks of clothing, all colour coordinated designer wear, fitting the profile of what the wife of Patrick Donoghue should be expected to look like. There's nothing casual or comfortable on show. No jeans or sweats or cosy baggy sweaters. She looks at the shoes all displayed in their boxes. Those alone would cost more than her annual SHIELD salary. She remembers how he expected her to always look immaculate; once she got away from him, she lived in jeans and leggings almost as an act of defiance. It was liberating to say the least.

Now she stands in the middle of this room surrounded by another woman's clothes, another woman's misery and she's struggling to remain present. Her child is here somewhere. She's sure of it. She has to be.

"What are you thinking?" Sam enquires. Even though his voice is quiet, it still startles her a little.

"When Rory was a little girl, I taught her to hide when her father was in one of his moods. She was two. The moment his temper began to flare, she'd be gone. You'd be amazed at where she could hide herself when inspiration struck." She bites her bottom lip as her eyes continue to scan the interior, at the smooth plain walls. She can smell a hint of an expensive perfume. She knows it will be something designer, Patrick doesn't do mediocre.

"She didn't manage to the last time."

Corrie just shakes her head. "No. The flat was too small and she didn't know the layout too well. He grabbed her up before she could."

She slowly moves to the middle of the room and she listens

"Why aren't you looking for Bucky?" she asks him when she doesn't hear him move.

"Because I promised him that if it came down to it and we were in a situation just like this one, I'd stay with you," he answers. The look she throws him over her shoulder is scathing.

"You promised him? Without consulting me?" Her tone is arch and all she gets from Sam in response is a slow shrug, as if to say so sue me

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not helpless?"

"Donoghue is still on the loose somewhere and until he's in custody or otherwise, you're stuck with me. Deal with it."

Corrie's shoulders slump in defeat. A noise catches her attention, a tiny intake of breath, almost a sob and she looks at Sam and lifts her finger to her lips and he slowly nods in acknowledgement. She turns her head and her eyes scan the room's interior once again.

"Aurora Grace, can you hear me?" she asks. She strains to listen but can no longer hear anything.

"Do you remember me? Do you recognise my voice?" she continues. "I know it's been a little while but you need to try and remember." She waits and for another long moment there's no response.

"You sound like my mum but you can't be. Dad said you died." The voice is low, scared and despite everything, Corrie's heart lifts and she blinks against tears that threaten to flood her eyes.

"Well as you can hear sweetheart, I didn't. I'm alive and here to take you home." Her voice wobbles just a little bit.

"You could be anyone. You just want me to come out of my hiding place. You could be trying to trick me," she accuses and Corrie's elation dies away as quickly as it filled her.

"Well I do want you to come out but who do you think taught you how to hide in the first place when dad was in one of his moods? That last time you weren't quick enough and he took you from me. Remember Mr Fury from work? He's been helping me to look for you ever since and I have been. I've never given up looking. Your father was much cleverer in hiding you from me."

Silence. Heavy and thick.

"He calls me Grace. Told me Aurora is a baby's name."

"You're my Rory. You're my baby girl." She waits and holds her breath when she hears a scuffling sound. She turns in its direction and right at the back of the dressing room, partially hidden by a row of long evening gowns, a small door slides to one side. Her heart is hammering in her chest when she sees a red headed girl, all arms and legs, crawl out. Her eyes widen slightly as she watches her emerge and stand up and face her. She's wearing a long white nightgown, her feet bare. She faces Corrie with some trepidation and Corrie watches as her fear is slowly replaced by something else: disbelief.

"It is you," she whispers. Corrie can't speak, she nods instead and she holds out her arms as Rory hurries towards her and throws herself into them.

Corrie holds on tightly as Rory tucks her face into the hollow of her shoulder and she gently rocks her. With one hand she gently strokes her hair. A few moments pass before Rory lifts her head and they look at each other close up.

"I hoped you would come and find me. That he'd been lying to me."

"I'm here. I'm going to take you home, I promise," Corrie whispers. She frames her face with her hands, scanning her face. "You've grown."

"I'm eleven now, mum," Rory answers and her mother manages a tremulous smile which then slowly fades as she examines her daughter's face, at the faded bruising.

"He hurt you too." It's not a question. For a moment Rory just stares at her and fresh tears brew and she eventually nods. Corrie pulls her back into her arms as Rory cries some more and she feels fresh anger begin to brew.

"He's not going to hurt you again sweetheart, I promise."

"We need to get you both out of here," Sam tells Corrie as they approach him. He sees how she frowns "It was part of the deal Corrie, you find your daughter and get her out of here and the rest of us locate Bucky."

"He'll be in the basement," Rory tells him and both adults stare at her in surprise.

"We already have a crew down in the basement, he's not there," Sam tells her.

Rory shrugs somewhat casually. "The new basement. After the Blip, he had some work done down there. I was never allowed to go near it and told never to go there but it'd make sense, right?"

"It would. Could you tell us how to access it?" Sam asks.

"I could show you instead," she replies.

"Honey, we need to get you out of here, away from all of this as quickly as possible."

"He hurt Alex and he needs to be stopped. I want to help you do that," Rory replies, her voice hardening and Corrie stares at her in surprise.

"That sounded eerily familiar," Sam murmurs and Corrie glares at him.

"They don't need us to do that sweetheart," she then explains but she does recognise the steady look she sees in her child's eyes at this.

"She knows how to get to this new basement. It'll save us time hunting for it. We go in, locate Bucky and then head out and leave the rest of the team to locate Donoghue and anyone else," Sam responds, still in a low voice and Corrie looks at him again. Their gazes hold for a long moment before she looks back at Rory.

"Okay. You can show us where the entrance to this new basement is and then you and I will get the hell out of here. Is that a deal?"

Rory nods and she winds her arms around her mother's waist and hugs her once more. Corrie holds on tight. It feels good to have her daughter in her arms again. She then draws back.

"You don't leave my sight, do you understand? This is Sam. I trust him with my life and you should too. If we become separated for any reason then you should stay with him, he'll protect you." Another nod from Rory. Corrie looks at Sam again "And if for any reason I can't get her out of here, you must. You must protect her with your life. Do you promise me?" She sees how his eyes widen at her words.

"Corrie…"

"Do you promise me, Sam?" she interrupts and eventually he nods. Corrie gives a single nod and takes a deep breath. She takes Rory's hand and they leave the dressing room.

She tugs Rory to her right and slightly behind her as she follows Sam out of the bedroom. She draws her gun and holds it in her left hand. Rory doesn't make a sound as they creep along the corridor. They pause at the top of the staircase. A group of their operatives have an assortment of men on their knees on the lobby floor, hands interlaced behind their heads. Corrie does a quick count. There looks to be about ten of them. One of the operatives looks up at them.

"Another dozen are outside, under arrest and…" He looks at Rory "otherwise."

"Any sign of Donoghue?" Corrie asks. He shakes his head.

"Could he have decided to cut his losses and just run?" Sam asks her as they descend.

"And leave Rory behind? No. His idea to capture the Winter Soldier to impress whatever boss he's trying to impress was ambitious but he would not have left her behind, not if he knew I was alive and looking. Which he did," Corrie responds.

Bucky feels like he can't breathe properly, that he can't take a deep enough breath. When he tries, it feels like his lungs can't hold enough air. It all feels strangely familiar somehow. A cattle prod to the ribs he can take, though. It beats the alternative.

"How do you like that, you son of a bitch," Kelly snarls at him, wielding the prod. Bucky slowly opens his eyes and he stares at him. Then he smiles.

"It…tickles," he whispers and sees the annoyance that flares in his eyes. He slowly smiles again.

"What do you think… you can do to me…. that other people… scarier people than you… haven't already tried?" he asks him. His voice is soft. Kelly stares at him.

"Because if you're trying…to step into your brother's…shoes…then you've failed…miserably." He sees his surprise. "Oh yeah…we know who you are..."

"He's dead because of you!" Kelly hisses and Bucky slowly, laboriously shakes his head.

"No…No… He's dead because he's a fucking…idiot. Nothing to do with me. He went up against Cap and… he lost. He never knew when to give up, to know when he was…beat. I guess it runs in the family."

"I'm not the one tied up."

"Because you're too damned scared to take me on otherwise… man to man," Bucky goads.

"You'd rather go after my… niece than confront me …head on. First couple of times you ran like a goddamn …coward. Last time you brought…friends." He closes his eyes and tries to take another breath. When that fails, he opens them again and fixes them on Kelly.

"What are you trying… to do? Tune me up… for your boss? Does that… make you feel all… important inside? C'mon, cut me… loose, face me. Your brother… never did, he was… scared of me too, did you… know that? That's something else that… runs in the family… I guess," he taunts. He's finding it really tough to take a deep enough breath, black speckles are dancing around the edge of his vision but he smiles once more and it has the desired effect as Kelly comes for him, with the prod ready once again.

"Jonathan!" Another voice interrupts sharply and Kelly freezes. Slowly he turns around and they both see the man standing in the doorway. Tall, dark haired. Bucky recognises him from the photographs Corrie shared with him, from the research he'd managed to do.

Patrick Donoghue.

He feels an ominous churn in his gut as he watches the man enter the room. His stride is slow almost casual, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. Bucky observes him, taking experimental breaths, feeling his lungs expand with each inhalation, trying not to wince too hard at the accompanying pain.

"Can't you tell he's trying to wind you up? Make you lose control so you'll attack him?" He stops in front of him and looks at him. There's a slight smile on his face as he takes in the Soldier. One of satisfaction.

"He's a skilled combatant, a master assassin. All of those stories you've heard about him are true. You really don't want to piss him off." His accent is cut glass, similar to Corrie's.

"And you don't want to damage the merchandise before we hand him over. He will be extremely unhappy if he's not in absolute top notch condition."

Bucky glances across at Kelly to see his shoulders slump and he takes a step away from him. Damn it.

"I'm very glad to finally make your acquaintance, Sergeant Barnes." He sounds very civilised but Bucky continues to stare at him and doesn't answer. Slowly he pulls his hands out of his pockets and folds his arms across his chest. Not before Bucky sees the bruises across his knuckles. Donoghue catches the look and he unfolds his arms to look at them.

"You've noticed them I see. Call it correcting disciplinary problems," he answers, folding his arms once more. Bucky stares at him with pure loathing.

"Yeah, I can just imagine what those disciplinary problems were," he drawls. Donoghue raises an eyebrow in mild surprise.

"So she told you?"

"Seen the pictures too."

Another mild smile crosses the man's face.

"There are pictures? Interesting. Maybe I'll get to see them for myself one day," he muses and Bucky feels the disgust brew deeper in the pit of his stomach. Donoghue regards him for a long moment.

"I don't happen to care what you think of me. My work here is done. I have you. In less than twenty four hours time you'll be off my hands and the responsibility of someone else. I hear you met before a few years ago. He was most eager to renew your acquaintance. I'm sure he'll put you to excellent use." He takes a step back and at the same time an alarm sounds from somewhere. Bucky watches him pull a cell phone out of his pocket and the smile vanishes as he stares at the screen.

"It would seem I have company. Time to deal with it." He looks at Kelly.

"Play if you must but play nicely, that's an order."

Both of them watch him leave.

They end up in an enormous kitchen. Corrie stays behind Sam as she takes the room in. Huge space, white cupboards and black marble counter tops. All top of the range. Her last flat in London would've fit into this room easily with space left over. She doesn't let go of Rory's hand. She looks around and apart from a door leading outside and glazed doors leading to a patio area across from them, she can't see a door that could lead to a basement.

"The basement where he may be is in this building, right?" Corrie asks her.

"Yes," her daughter confirms.

"Gonna show me where, sweetheart?" Sam asks.

Corrie watches as Rory opens her mouth to speak, she lifts her hand to point but then her eyes widen and she hears her shaky gasp. She sees the fear in her child's eyes and she turns her head and looks.

Her own eyes go wide with recognition and she raises her weapon and she aims it at him. At the same time she sees him fling something towards her. She turns her head and pushes Rory towards Sam as they dive behind the counter top.

As it hits the floor, the entire room is engulfed in white light and noise. Corrie feels the force of the percussive wave and she swears the entire room shakes. She pulls Rory up against her, Sam is at her other side, holding the shield over them all as it feels as though the world is falling in on them.

The building seems to shudder, the weak lighting flickers. Dust shakes loose into the air. It's enough to make Kelly pause and turn and look up. Taking a couple of steps back towards him as he does so. Within striking distance.

Bucky realises that now is his chance.

"Hey!" he calls out and automatically Kelly turns and looks at him.

Years of training. Years of conditioning. Years of keeping in shape come to the fore as Bucky braces and then lifts his body up. The chain holds his weight as he wraps his legs around an unsuspecting Kelly's throat and he crosses his ankles, trapping the man between his knees. He sees how his eyes bulge in shock as Bucky tightens his grip. He hears the prod hit the ground with a hollow clatter as Kelly uses both of his hands to grab onto Bucky's legs, punching at him, trying to dig his fingers into the tight muscle in a desperate effort to get him to let go. Bucky grunts as he tightens his grip and increases the pressure. He watches as Kelly turns a deep scarlet colour, eyes bulging in fear and desperation. At the last moment Bucky twists rotates his hips and knees and hears the deep pop and crunch of bone. Kelly's eyes roll up in his head and he goes limp. Bucky holds for fifteen seconds more before releasing his grip. His thighs and hips are burning from the effort. He watches as Kelly crumples to the ground and doesn't move. He takes a slow breath, relieved to discover that it's easier to do now and then he looks up again at the hook in the ceiling.

Time to blow this popsicle stand.