A/N - See, I keep my promises. Chapter 10 is up and Chapter 11 shouldn't be too far behind it.

One Week Earlier

Samantha didn't need to wait for Everett Ross to give the go ahead. She just ran, following her instincts at every single turn until she found herself in the building's lobby. She didn't give herself a moment to look around at her very clinical surroundings as she saw Bucky, his metal arm glinting at her in the harsh Belgian sunlight refracted through glass windows. He was in the midst of a fight with her father and she yelled out "Hey! Bucky, I wouldn't do that if I were you!" and the Winter Soldier released his vice-like grip on Tony's arm, thus distracting him long enough for Natasha to jump him, wrapping her legs around his throat – her signature move. It was mere seconds before Natasha was on the ground and Samantha took the opportunity to run at him and land a powerful kick to his abdomen, pushing him back and through a window, leaving glass shattered across the pavement beneath him.

He smirked, standing up and running at her. She ducked out of the way just in the nick of time. "Bad idea." He warned and she rolled her eyes, sliding through the gap between his legs before springing onto her hands and using them as a launch pad to flip over him, creating a barrier between Bucky and Natasha.

Quickly, she was able to land a punch to his cheek, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He glared at her this time and she yelled for the others to remove everyone from the general vicinity. He approached her, coming into close proximity – she could feel his breath on her. Still, she grinned, lifting her knee and hitting his stomach, leaving him doubled over in pain. She seized the opportunity and jumped on his back, ensuring that she held her arm tight against his throat. "Samantha!" she heard the familiar voice and looked up to see Steve "Let him go," he instructed.

She couldn't do it, not without making it look like she'd been defeated "Throw me," she whispered in Bucky's ear and he did as he was told. She was tossed across the room like a ragdoll thrown by a child in the midst of a tantrum. It took a moment for her to catch her breath again, her chest heaving but by the time she was able to sit up, they were gone.

She didn't know what to feel: relief or anger? Who was she angry at? Was she angry at herself for letting Bucky get away? Was she angry at Bucky for actually getting away? Or was she angry at Steve for putting her in the kind of position where she felt she had to letBucky get away?

Samantha ran her hand through the back of her hair, feeling a sticky liquid on the pads of her fingers. She didn't need to look at what was on her fingers to know that it would be the colour of blood. She didn't care, the wound was superficial at best, and she couldn't help but feel like she deserved it. Just then, her phone buzzed and she rifled around in her bra until she found it (to her, it really was a magical hiding place). A few button presses later and she found a text.

Meet me under the bridge at Chaussee de Mons at 3pm. Come alone and bring guns. XO

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Samantha tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited. It was weird, she realised, that someone else's habit that had, only months previously, infuriated her had become something she'd adopted. She had a fair idea as to who had sent the message and had complied as best she could. The guns weren't exactly up to date. In all actuality, they were older than the pilot episode for Full House. They were clean though and the likeliness of anyone figuring out that said guns – which were only standard issue in 1985 – were missing was slim.

She heard the rev of an engine and looked behind her. Steve, Sam and Bucky were sat, cramped into a little, diddy navy Volkswagen Beetle. She laughed to herself for a moment as she got out of the car. "I could get in a lot of trouble for this," she taunted as she opened the trunk. Steve smiled at her, thankful for the favour. "They're a little outdated I'm afraid but they're clean and they work." She said before taking a brief look at the car and laughed again.

Steve looked at her, squinting her a little, confused "What?"

"A VW Beetle? Really? Do you guys even realise how ridiculous you look? Do you even know how to go on the run?" she managed to say through uproarious laughter.

"Laugh all you want but it's really difficult to find a getaway car in this place." He responded and she giggled at his version of a defence.

"Come on, you know I'm just kidding," she said with a pout. He nodded, a shy smile on his face. "I love you," she reminded him and was almost immediately rewarded for it as he pulled her closer to him, gently cupping her cheek with one hand, bringing her face closer to his and clamping his lips onto hers. There was something desperate about it, like neither one of them was entirely sure whether or not this would be their last kiss. She was the one to break away, glancing sideways through tear-filled eyes to see Sam and Bucky cheering and whooping. She smiled a small smile for a moment, despondent and heartbroken as the realisation dawned on her that she may never see her fiancée alive again "I-I need to know that you're sure." She stuttered through sobs.

"About what?" Steve responded curtly and Samantha glanced carefully at the second vehicle.

"You know exactly what Steve. If you go off with Bucky now, you can't come back from it. You'll be a fugitive. You'll be hunted like some kind of criminal and you and I both know that's not fun. Fury isn't here to protect you this time."

"This is about Bucky?" he confirmed.

"Of course this is about Bucky! Last time I saw him we were beating the crap out of each other. Time before that I gave him a concussion because he'd shot you with a bullet loaded with anthrax! So yeah, excuse me for being a little concerned that my fiancé is going off with a Russian assassin." She all but screamed.

"And yet you never stopped me from going off with Natasha!" he argued back.

"Because I know where her loyalties lie! I know that I can trust Natasha better than I trust myself!" she yelled, angry that the comment even had to be made. She sighed, this wasn't exactly how she'd planned for this to go. "Look, I just… if I – God forbid – if I have to identify your body in a morgue somewhere down the line, I'd prefer to do it knowing that you were sure of what you were doing."

"Of course I'm sure," Steve responded, exhaling noisily as he did so. She bit her lip, annoyed at herself over the fact that she'd questioned his judgement even for a second. Of course he was sure. For as long as she'd known Steve Rogers, he had never done a single thing he wasn't absolutely sure about. "I'm going to be okay you know." He said by way of reassurance but she couldn't trust it.

"You can't promise me that. Neither one of us can promise that we'll be okay." She replied, she wasn't about to delude herself into thinking that everything was going to be okay, that – one day – they were going to be together again and become one big, happy family. She was too pessimistic, she'd seen too much, to be able to even force herself to believe that things would be okay.