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Approximately, 15.5 hours before Insight Launch:

Sirens.

…Bucky?...

Cars with sirens.

Alive?

Guns aimed his way from every direction. Rumlow shouting, "Drop the shield Cap. Get on your knees."

Bucky's alive.

Everyone is shouting. Steve puts the shield down on autopilot.

BUCKY'S ALIVE?

"Get on your knees," Rumlow orders again.

How?

Crisis. Danger. Threat imminent. Focus Rogers.

"Get on your knees." Steve barely feels Rumlow's kick to the back of his knees. "Down."

He goes, arms raised slowly.

"Don't move."

Rumlow behind him reaching for cuffs. He has ten seconds before they're on him. He can kill Rumlow and Rollins in two seconds flat… And be turned to Swiss cheese by the line of Strike personnel point guns straight at him. Use Rumlow and Rollins as meat-shields, while he takes cover behind the car… He might escape. Sam and Natasha won't.

Rollins behind, gun pointed straight at Steve's head.

Fear trickles through his calculations of possible escape routes. Rollins gets just a touch too trigger happy and his brains are going to be on the pavement. Not even the serum can bring him back from that.

Rumlow again, "Put the gun down."

He might never get a chance to see Bucky again.

"Not here," Rumlow orders.

Rollins stands down.

Steve refuses to show relief. It still floods his lungs and gets his diaphragm working again. It still makes his muscles feel like jello.

The cuffs are on, and Steve's being frog-marched to the transport van. Shoved inside.

It's over.

It's not fucking over.

Bucky's alive.

The crisis Steve managed to shelve while he dealt with Death coming up to give him a hug is back and determined not to go away again. Because… What the flying fucking hell? How? Who? How? What? How? When? How? Where? How? How? How? How? How?

Steve knows how. He'd been there. He'd freed Bucky from the gurney and half-carried him from the room.

Bucky sure had gone from needing to be dragged to walking on his own quickly.

The Howling Commandos had run around behind enemy lines.

Bucky had never been seriously injured. Nothing that would have made what Zola did to him too obvious?

Had Bucky noticed? How could he not have? But then Steve hadn't noticed the bruises he'd left on Bucky's skin healing in days. He'd never thought it was weird that Bucky could still match him for energy. That Bucky, unlike the others, never mentioned any injuries. He'd never even had blisters on his feet from walking miles upon miles day in and day out.

If Steve had known… If…

Sam's shoved up into the van, forcing Steve further inside.

Rumlow helps Natasha in a bit more carefully, and climbing in himself. "You wanna explain why the fucking Black Widow bled out before we could interrogate her? Because if so I'm just gonna shoot you ride now and save your superiors the trouble." He snaps at an agent Steve doesn't recognize. "I wanted field dressing two minutes ago. Why the hell don't I have it yet?"

A man, no woman by the voice, in full swat armor appears then. "Sir."

"Finally."

"I have training…" the woman beings.

"Yeah, so do I," Rumlow snaps, unimpressed. He bangs on the side of the van. "Close it up, let's go. Burning daylight here."

The van is closed up. Rumlow's all locked up in an enclosed space with Steve. Even wearing cuffs he could take him out in no time.

Natasha's eyes say no.

She's right. Personnel outside would doubtlessly hear Steve smear Rumlow's face into the bench and floor. He'll wait until they're moving.

Until then Steve can get comfy, and glare. Smile.

"Yeah. Yeah. Know you're pissed." Rumlow's tugging off his Strike gloves and snapping on latex ones. "Maybe hold off on that beatdown till she's not bleeding anymore."

Natasha's eyes say yes.

"You got enough range of motion to get your jacket off?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Just cut it."

Rumlow does so. For a moment there's only the sound of scissors cutting through fabric. Natasha's slow, pained breathing.

She's never been this comfortable around Rumlow before. Rumlow is… Was… Steve's friend. Any and all thoughts about more than friend feelings bring sheer fury bubbling up to the surface, and diving deep to coil in his gut and just wait with relish. Much better than the feeling of shock over Bucky being alive.

Of being with Hydra. Rumlow is Hydra. Rumlow had gone with Steve to the Smithsonian. He would have known who Bucky was. The rage is back, and Steve's nearly choking with it. It's only the sight of steel scissors far too close to Nat's neck that stop Steve from grabbing Rumlow and strangling him.

"You see how I'm actually helping. Remember how I didn't shoot you dead in the street? Note how I'm not killing you now. I'm breaking all the villain rules, huh?" Rumlow's talking. He meets Steve's eyes and flashes him a devil's grin with a wink. "Personally, I think that Barnes is a better kisser than Romanoff. What'd you think Rogers?"

The air leaves Steve's body.

He wants to kill Rumlow right then. His hands are itching to do it. He's going to do it. Rumlow doesn't have scissors anywhere near Nat anymore.

Except.

Contrary to what many people believe Steve Rogers does actually think through most of his actions. An alarm bell cuts through the blinding rage and bringing the details back around. Replaying events from the past year over again.

Rumlow had given nothing away at the Smithsonian. But that had marked him becoming more distant. But Steve had had to leave on a two-month mission to Yemen not a week after the Smithsonian and Rumlow had left on a month-long mission to Laos two days before Steve returned. They hadn't seen one another in three months.

He hadn't questioned Rumlow telling Natasha to go see the Smithsonian exhibit the day after he and Steve had gone.

He'd thought nothing of it when, three and a half months after the Smithsonian, Rumlow had stolen Steve's sketchbook and tossed it to Natasha. The page open on a sketch of Bucky.

Natasha had asked who he had drawn. Looking back at the memory Steve recalls the way Natasha's hands had gripped the sketchbook too tight for a moment. How for one second her face had crumpled.

Steve hadn't questioned it. Because… Because it happened so fast, he wasn't sure he'd seen anything? Because he didn't want to pry.

Steve had dismissed -and firmly noted done of his business- the rumors that Natasha and Rumlow had hooked up at the Avengers Christmas Party at Stark Tower.

He could mark them untrue now, he realized.

No one would have thought twice about it if Natasha had kissed Rumlow then dragged him off… Off to be alone in one of the few places in the world where two spies could talk freely because the nigh-omniscient A.I. who monitored the building wouldn't let his guests be observed by anyone but him.

Rumlow hadn't let Rollins shoot Steve dead in the street. He hadn't killed the three of them the moment they were in the van, out of sight of the news cameras. He had apparently seen Natasha and Steve on the escalator and said nothing.

Sam voices his own epiphany. "This is some triple-agent shit."

"Triple-agent shit. Woke up and realized I was gonna need real fucking good immunity deal." Rumlow shrugs. "Take your pick."

Steve swallows. He feels cold. There's a hurt that's threatening to flay him to the bone. One that he is not going to feel. Nat deserves the opportunity to explain herself first. He does not listen to the voice screaming that she's had plenty of chance so far. At the hospital, in the car, at Sam's… To say nothing of the ten months since Steve had told her the man in the sketch was Bucky Barnes, Howling Commando, war-hero, his best friend. Seen grief flash across Nat's face and felt his own like a knife. Behind the grief though, there'd been hope in Natasha's eyes. Steely resolve in the set of her shoulder blades.

"I think you left out a few key things about the Winter Soldier, Nat."

Natasha's eyes are steely. "I told you what you needed to know at the time. A commodity we were rather pressed for."

"Yeah, not like we had plenty of that on the ride to Camp Leigh. Or on the way back to D.C."

Natasha stays stony faced. "We're rather pressed for it again so let's hear what you've put together."

"Rumlow tipped you off to the Winter Soldier's identity. The two of you, with the help of Barton and Stark, have been working to save Bucky since the Avengers Christmas Party."

"Banner got recruited too," Rumlow pipes up.

"I've been trying to save him since I was 18," Natasha corrects.

"Care to share what else you know about the Winter Soldier." Phrased like a question, but not a question. "I'll bet that story is real interestin'."

"I met him when I was five. At six he told me that his name was Yakov. The Russian form the name James." The air is once again gone from Steve's lungs. "My sister and I called him Yasha. He was one of our teachers in the Red Room." Facts, stated cold and calm. But there's a wetness to her eyes. A defensive curl to her posture, "He's not just your friend Steve."

'Don't you fucking dare tell me that you're the only one who can love him,' Nat's eyes scream. "Yasha was my teacher, protector… The closest thing I had to a parent."

The fierce joy that surges through Steve is sudden, and nearly barrels him over. For one second, he's mind-numbingly happy because Bucky had always, always wanted kids… But then the joy, like the rage, must be shoved down for later. Because he's not done being mad at Natasha. But he also can't fault her for not telling him anymore.

He's known why he wasn't invited to the party since he figured out they were trying to save Bucky. Because if he had known that Bucky was alive and held captive by Hydra…

"Didn't he just shoot you?" Sam asked.

"Again," Steve notes. But the Winter Soldier had nearly killed Steve during their brawl. Bucky had looked Steve dead in the eyes with no recognition in them. Some form of amnesia? Brainwashing?

"And yet she lives. For the Winter Soldier that's fucking precedented," Rumlow notes.

Because why shoot the target through Natasha? Why leave the Black Widow alive? Unless… Somewhere… Steve understood Natasha's hope all too well.

"He doesn't remember," Natasha says. "Yasha was with us in the red room on and off for eight years. Then they took him away for two years and when he came back, he wasn't Yasha anymore."

"They have some kind of device that can induce amnesia." Phrased as a statement, tone questioning.

"Yes, and you'll get to learn all about it when I'm at least two states away from you Rogers," Rumlow says.

Steve gives Rumlow a dark smile. One that plainly asks 'Oh, you really think you'll manage to escape from me?' To Rumlow's credit, his answering grin replies, 'Catch me if you can, Sweetheart.'

Somewhere deep down inside of Steve, he buries the darkest parts of himself. Old insecurities. Greatest shames. It's there that he's locked up the tangled, slightly singed ball of yarn dipped in poison that's tagged: "Stevie Rogers's Crush on Brock Rumlow." That part of him respects either the man's lack of fear or his amazing acting talent. The rest of Steve tries shoving the ball of yarn into the furnace again.

It doesn't work.

It matters. But it doesn't have to matter now. The same goes for the method of how Hydra's been wiping Bucky's memories. Priorities.

First… The road the transport van is on is no longer the highway. Chances are they're nearing whatever black site or remote body dumping locale they were headed to.

"So, you a one man rescue operation or can we expect backup?" Sam asks.

Rumlow tosses Sam a set of keys. When had he uncuffed Sam? Or Natasha for that matter? "Not to worry. The screaming should be starting any moment now."

"Reassuring," Sam mutters.

Steve has to clench his jaw and crosses his arms because he's not supposed to find Rumlow's sense of humor to be funny and charming anymore. And now he's furious with Rumlow and Hydra and betrayal and that rage is much, much better than the cold hurt at the idea that Natasha had betrayed him too. So, Steve wraps himself in that and glares at Rumlow.

Rumlow sends a smirk his way. "Those keys are to unlock Rogers cuffs. His face tells me it'd be bad for my health to get that close to him."

Sam laughs. "Yeah man, probably." He scoots over and unlocks the handcuffs Steve's been placed in.

"Thank you," Steve says, rubbing his wrists. They don't hurt but it gives his hands something to do.

It starts then.

No screaming but gunfire, followed by shouting, then more gunfire. What is definitely a body is thrown against the side of the transport van. Another is dropped on top. More gunfire. Then silence.

More silence.

The van's door is ripped off its hinges. A lone, black and silver iron legionnaire stands at attention. "One rescue, Agent Rumlow," J.A.R.V.I.S. says. He nods, "Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers, Staff Sargeant Wilson."

Rumlow's climbing out of the van then, and both he and Sam are helping Natasha get out.

Steve follows after them after taking one moment to breathe. Outside the van he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it carefully on Nat's uninjured side. Sam grabs the sleeves and ties them off. Natasha's eyes say thank you. To J.A.R.V.I.S. she says, "Yasha?"

"Sargent Barnes was picked up by Handler Michael Thomas and is on route to the Ideal Federal Savings Bank for presumed debrief and medical. ETA 14 minutes. ETA for the device to neutralize the kill switches in Sargent Barnes arm is 40 minutes. Three Iron Legionaires are monitoring and can rescue Sargent Barnes if ordered."

"What kill switches?" Steve demands.

"There's three bombs and a cyanide capsule in Yasha's metal arm," Natasha reports.

Steve's doubled over and dry heaving then. If he'd eaten anything since the breakfast Sam had made for them it'd be all over his shoes. He's not sure why that's what does it. The sheer hopelessness of those kill switches? Or because it's only right then and there that Steve realizes that Bucky's left arm is just fucking gone.

When had he lost it? In the fall from the train? Was it a later injury? Or had Hydra just cut it off themselves in order to make Bucky even more of their weapon?

Sam's rubbing his back, and Natasha's talking. "…We're getting it off Steve. Once we get Yasha to Tony…"

But Bucky would be back in Hydra's clutches before the device could arrive. Steve ran the math, the variables, the what he could live with… He couldn't take the chance. Hydra would have the Winter Soldier around to ensure that Insight went off without a hitch.

Insight, that would be launching in 15 hours now.

Captain America steels himself and straightens. To Rumlow he says, "How fucked is your cover?"

Cap's one of those rare heroes that's actually better after you meet them. Case in point, he fucking swears. Who knew it'd be hot hearing Captain fucking America curse. Well, Rumlow had had his bets and collected on them several times over. It's still fucking awesome though. One nice thing on the absolute ass raping that's been the past 48 hours.

"I ensured that all communications were jammed before dispatching the Strike personnel," J.A.R.V.I.S. reports dutifully. "Eighteen dead Hydra agents, one captured, one stowaway."

Rumlow's brain screeches to a halt and he rounds on J.A.R.V.I.S. "What fucking stowaway?" He whirling back around and making for the other cars the next moment before J.A.R.V.I.S. can answer. He finds what he's looking for immediately.

An extremely bemused and thankfully unarmed Maria Hill is standing next to a second Iron Legionnaire. There's a moment where she just sees him, the tentative hope on her face drains away along with the blood. Rumlow also knows the moment Romanoff and Rogers come into her line of sight; Hill's entire body with relief even as she stays completely upright, no visible change in her posture. "Guess you didn't need that rescue after all."

"Fucking fuck Fury's alive, isn't he?" Rumlow demands. "Jackie owes me thirty bucks."

"Jack Rollins is currently unconscious, restrained and locked in the trunk of a car," J.A.R.V.I.S. reports through the new Iron Legionnaire. "As per your agreement Commander Rumlow."

"Nick's dead. His heart stopped… I…" Romanoff must see something on Hill's face because she goes quiet. "I'm going to kill him."

"He sent me to get you so I guess that works out," Hill offers.

"Happy reunions, confetti, yay," Rumlow mutters. "To answer your question Cap. My cover is not blown."

"You're certain?"

"Certain enough that I'm going to walk into the Ideal Federal Savings Bank, and check on Yasha," Rumlow replies. "Though it probably wouldn't hurt for someone to punch me a few times before I leave."

Rogers eyes gleam and Rumlow only then realizes his choice of words. "Do you have Sitwell's clearance?"

Rumlow laughed, "Not even close." He considers, "We could go dig Sitwell's eye out of his skull. They might be intact enough."

"Negative," J.A.R.V.I.S. counters. "Upon impact with the truck Jasper Sitwell's face concaved in on itself, squishing his eyes."

"That's…" Hill doesn't bother finishing. "Okay. What the fuck?" Wild gesture at Rumlow. "Who's that guy?"

Wilson's rejoined them, it appears. "He's some kind of triple agent. I'm Sam…"

"Introductions later because I've got ten minutes before I need to leave and we need to decide how we're saving the world," Rumlow interrupted.

"The King is Dead, Long Live the King," Romanoff says.

"We are not in place to pull that shit off," Rumlow counters.

"No," Romanoff agrees. "But we'll having plenty of time to get Civil War set up in the aftermath of Insight crashing and burning."

"So again, how are we saving the fucking world?" Rumlow demanded.

"We'll just wind Rogers up and watch him go," Romanoff says.

"Hot as that sounds, Pierce still has Yasha as his fucking attack dog and as hot as getting to watch them fight live sounds…"

"I'm one-man Nat," Cap interrupts, side-eying Rumlow. "I can't fight Bucky plus the entirety of Hydra and Shield and destroy the Hellicarriers alone." Said in a tone that implies he'd be quite happy to try.

Fucking hell, Cap might even pull it off. Somehow. Rumlow doesn't feel quite like betting twenty million lives on Roger's nigh-on reality warping good luck.

"I have a way to destroy the Helicarriers," Hill announces. "We need that right? I still only understand about 50% of what's going on." To Romanoff she adds, "Are you planning world domination?"

Romanoff just smiles.

"Then I guess everything's settled," Cap says cheerfully.

One moment later Rumlow's slammed into side of the transport van. "You saved us twice," Rogers whispers. "Two minutes. Talk."