Author's note: This chapter is about twice as long as a normal one. Which is probably why it took me twice as long to write it. :-) But there just wasn't a good place to cut it in half, so you get it all in one gulp.

Thanks to distanceincrowdedrooms, jerseydanielgibson, Guests, kingmanaena, codedriver, girliemom, ravenclawdiadem16, SpanishGirl, sofiarose613, guiltypleasure 82, MagicLia16, fictionfrek101 and Figuratively Dying for your reviews! I hope you know they do make a difference. I have at times tweaked things when a reader has helped me see a problem, or a potential plot development that I hadn't considered taking, but which seems obvious once someone points it out. And of course it's always good to know someone is enjoying the fruits of my labor. You guys are the best.

6:48 p.m., December 16, 1991

They left Maria by the Jaguar, still gazing at Tony's photo, and Howard led Steve down a long corridor off the main portion of the garage and into a small, unassuming room filled with a disorganized jumble of crates overflowing with spare parts. His face inscrutable, Howard shot a glance at Steve before reaching down into one of the boxes and doing something that Steve couldn't quite see.

There was a faint whirring sound, and unexpectedly a section of the tiled floor parted smoothly, revealing a set of stairs that disappeared into the darkness. Howard led the way down the steps and pressed his hand against a scanner on the wall, then punched a code into a keypad. A panel in the wall slid open, revealing a short, dimly lit corridor with a thick metal door at the end.

The door was propped open.

Steve glanced over at Howard. No need to ask if that door was supposed to be open; Howard looked both angry and alarmed. Without any need to communicate, they both moved forward and entered the room swiftly and silently.

There was a man inside. Just one. A safe in the wall was open, and he was moving something inside into a silver case, which he hastily shut and then turned around. He froze when he saw Steve and Howard standing there.

"Uh..." the guy said, his eyes widening. Down by his side, his hand gripped the handle of the case so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Randall? Just what do you think you're doing?" Howard demanded.

"You know this guy?" Steve asked.

"He does maintenance work for me."

Steve squinted his eyes slightly. "I don't think he's doing maintenance work in here."

"Yeah, no kidding," Howard said. "I think you better put that case down, pal."

"Oh yeah? Who's gonna make me?" Randall demanded with a sneer, suddenly producing a pistol from inside his jacket and pointing it at them. "The senior citizen brigade?"

Steve and Howard exchanged glances.

"Have you still got it?" Howard asked casually.

"Guess we're about to find out," Steve said.

"Got what?" Randall asked them both suspiciously after a beat.

"This," Steve said.

He threw a fist in the man's face.

Randall flew back and his body slammed against the wall before crumpling into a heap on the floor, where he lay without moving.

"Ah. You do still have it," Howard said approvingly.

Steve rubbed his knuckles with a grimace. "Ow."

Howard looked at him, bemused. "Ow?"

"Don't tell me you aren't feeling a touch of arthritis by now."

Howard bent down and grabbed the guy by the lapels of his jacket, moving him off the case he had fallen on top of. It had popped open and several IV bags had spilled out. One of them was leaking into a sticky blue puddle spreading out on the floor.

Howard groaned, looking in dismay at the mess. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to make that?" he said irritably to no one in particular as he stooped to pick up the now-empty IV bag and read the label. "Major Jenkins. Damn it. She was one of my favorites."

Heaving a sigh, Howard carefully gathered up the remaining five IV bags and put them back in the case one by one.

"That guy wasn't doing this alone," Steve said with certainty. "He would have had an associate nearby to help him transport the serum away from the house."

Suddenly Howard looked alarmed. "Maria!"

They took off running up the stairs and back into the garage, Howard bringing the case with the remaining serum along. No point in leaving it in the safe, not when Hydra apparently knew the combination.

They burst through the door and found Maria standing by the Jaguar, still looking at Tony's photo. A man in a chauffeur's uniform with a Stark security badge clipped to the lapel was standing next to her, and Maria was telling him in a distracted voice without taking her eyes off the photo: "No need, Howard will drive us to the airport himself. But thank you, Johnson."

As one, Maria and Johnson looked up at Steve and Howard where they stood together breathless just inside the doorway. The chauffeur looked down at the case in Howard's hand, and his eyes widened.

He grabbed Maria roughly by the back of the neck and pulled her against him while he stuffed his other hand inside his suit jacket... but he never got a chance to pull out what was inside. Howard already had his hand-held laser out, and a tight beam of light shot out and struck the man in the chest.

The chauffeur dropped, smoke rising from the singed hole in his jacket.

Maria cried out, short and sharp, wobbling back on her high heels until she fell back against the car. She stayed there, mouth agape, while Howard and Steve split up and rapidly scanned the garage to see if anyone else was there. It appeared that for the moment, it was just the three of them.

"What is going on?!" Maria gasped when at last she found her voice again.

"They were trying to steal the serum," Howard said succinctly.

"Steve," Peggy's voice said tensely in his ear, and he reached up to touch the earpiece. "We have a problem. I can see men moving up the hill. A dozen or more. Two groups, one headed for the garage, one for the house. They didn't go past me. They must have been hidden somewhere on the property."

"Stand by," Steve said to her. "Howard, Peggy says there are men moving in on our position, and the house too."

Maria looked up from the chauffeur's body, horrified. "Tony! He's still in the house!"

"He isn't alone," Steve quickly reassured her. "I have someone with him." But even though Natty had a good grasp of hand fighting thanks to Mike's lessons, she was young and inexperienced and Steve knew he couldn't count on her being able to hold off a wave of intruders indefinitely.

"They're not gonna stop coming," Howard said grimly, holding the case of serum protectively across his chest. "We have to get the serum away from the house. Take it somewhere more secure."

"Before they send in their big hitter," Steve agreed. The Winter Soldier had already gotten much too close to Tony for comfort, and that couldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it.

"They have a big hitter?"

"Yeah."

Howard paused. "How big are we talking?"

"Like me," Steve said flatly. "But 50 years younger."

Howard swore.

"Where can you take it?" Steve asked.

"My friend has a private airstrip not far from here," Howard said as he strode decisively over to the trunk of his car and opened it. "It's where I keep my Cessnas hangared. We can be there in 10 minutes. I can fly the serum straight to the Pentagon." He threw the case in his trunk and slammed the lid. "Maria, get in." Sweat was beaded on his brow as he hurried over to the driver's side.

"Howard," Steve said.

Howard looked at him.

"I can go with you," Steve told him quietly, "or I can stay here and protect Tony."

"Stay with Tony," Maria said immediately from where she stood by the passenger door. Wisps of hair had escaped her bun and she still looked frightened, but her chin was up and her eyes were resolute.

"Stay with Tony," Howard agreed without hesitation. He reached into his suit pocket and tossed Steve something small and rectangular. He caught it one-handed and glanced down at it: it was an electronic access card.

Steve met Howard's eyes firmly. "I'll keep him safe," he promised. "Whatever it takes."

The Starks jumped in the car and Howard started the engine. Steve touched his earpiece. "The Starks are coming down the road in a silver Jaguar," he told Peggy. "They're headed for a private airstrip nearby and they need cover."

Peggy acknowledged crisply as the garage's door rolled up to let the cold winter air come spilling in... along with a handful of men dressed in black clothing. Howard floored the gas pedal and the engine roared as the Jaguar leapt forward. Without hesitation the men ran toward the car at full speed. Howard swerved deliberately and hit one of them, sending him flying into a sporty blue convertible. The other men shouted, more in anger than fear, and one of them lifted a crowbar and tried to smash the driver's side window as the Jaguar roared past, but he never got close enough; Steve had already grabbed him roughly around the middle and thrown him to the cement floor with a satisfying thud.

In moments, the Jaguar was out of the garage and tearing down the gravel road, its bright headlights cutting a swath through the dark night.

There were five men left standing, and they clearly had no intention of giving up on their mission: they dashed without hesitation toward a black Benz parked in the garage, one of them first stooping to pull a ring of keys out of the pocket of the fallen chauffeur. Another one took a casual swing at Steve's head as he ran past, although he didn't look particularly worried about the threat posed by an unarmed old man.

Steve ducked the punch and stuck his leg out, tripping the assailant and sending him sprawling to the floor. Within seconds he had caught up to the next man and push-kicked him, sending him flying into the man trying to get into the driver's seat of the Benz. The car keys went skittering across the floor and disappeared under another car.

Suddenly they all seemed a lot more worried about an old man than they had been a second ago. In moments he was surrounded by angry Hydra agents in a rush to get him out of the way so they could pursue their prize. The blows rained down fast and furious, and Steve felt his pulse racing in response as he began to deal out blows of his own.

It had been decades since Steve had been in a real fight. But he hadn't forgotten a thing, and if his body was slower and clumsier than it used to be, he was still what Dr. Erskine had made him.

And unlike his enemies, he wasn't here to steal and kill for power and domination. He was fighting for his friend.

The men worked together, fighting him like a pack of hyenas, their blows vicious and blindingly fast. It hurt more than he remembered it hurting. His strikes were not as precise as he wanted them to be. He felt like he was moving in slow-motion by his old standards.

But for all his flaws and their white-hot desperation, they could not stop him.

He punched one man in the face and he staggered back, falling against a stack of crates that crashed to the floor with a clatter as car parts came tumbling out. Without even thinking about it, Steve snatched up a hubcap that rolled near him, spun around, and flung it. It bounced off one head, careened unerringly toward another, and then came spinning back to his hand. Both men collapsed to the floor, unconscious, leaving only one man left. He was down on his hands and knees, fumbling around for the car keys amid the chaos, but now he stared up at Steve, fear and confusion warring on his face. Suddenly his eyes widened with recognition... and utter disbelief.

"You," he finally managed to spit out, and there was a world of hatred in the word.

"Me," Steve agreed mildly. He strode forward and instinctively the man furiously backpedaled, trying to get away from him, but it was no use. Seconds later, he took a hubcap to the face and joined his compatriots on the cold cement floor.

Steve didn't waste any time nursing his aching joints, but reached up to touch his earpiece. "Natty, where in the house are you and Tony?" he asked urgently.

There was a short pause, and then Natty said brightly, "Wow, you have your own movie theater in the basement?" and he heard Tony's voice in the background answering facetiously, "Doesn't everyone?"

"Keep him there if you can," Steve told Natty as he ran out of the garage, trying not to limp, and headed for the house. "Eyes up. Stay sharp. You two may not be alone."

6:55 p.m., December 16, 1991

Peggy crouched behind her car door, gun steady in her hand despite the bone-chilling wind that had started up as soon as the sun went down. It blew straight through her winter coat and whipped her hair around her face as the Starks' Jaguar came tearing down the hill, its tires crunching on the gravel and its headlights illuminating the trees edging the road. There didn't seem to be anyone in pursuit, probably because of the grunts and crashes she could hear coming through her earpiece: undoubtedly Steve taking care of business in the garage.

The Jaguar slowed as it approached the barrier at the guard gate, and in the light of the lamppost placed there Peggy could see Howard leaning through the driver's side window, gesturing vehemently at the guard standing in the booth. Peggy frowned; the guard was not rushing to raise the gate and lower the road spikes, even though there was no question that's what Howard was telling him to do.

And then the guard had a gun in his hands, and he was pointing it at Howard.

Without hesitation Peggy left the safety of the car door that was shielding her and dashed toward the booth, her own weapon in hand. Howard and Maria both had their hands up as the guard barked at them to get out of the car. He didn't see Peggy, dressed in dark clothing against the gloom of the night, until she had already come around the car and had him in her sights.

"Drop it," Peggy said.

The man turned to look at her, and an expression of incredulity crossed his face when he saw who was holding him at gunpoint.

"Yes, I'm an old woman," Peggy said acerbically. "And if you're wondering whether I have the guts to shoot, you should know I already have Hydra blood on my hands, and a clear conscience to match. Now drop it."

There was a long, breathless moment in which none of them moved.

The guard made a sudden movement, swiveling his gun to point it in her direction, but he never made it that far. Peggy squeezed the trigger, the silencer muffling the bang into a pop, and the man dropped, his gun hitting the ground only a moment before he did.

"Why do they never believe you?" Howard asked in genuine puzzlement, leaning out of the car window to survey her handiwork.

"If they were smart, they wouldn't be Hydra," Peggy replied crisply. She grabbed one of the man's arms and started to drag him. Howard scrambled out of his seat and helped her maneuver the body into the guard booth, out of sight from passer-by. Then he pulled the lever, and the gate lifted up as the road spikes sunk into the ground, opening the way for him.

Howard looked at her seriously now. "Peggy..." he said.

She smiled a little. "I know, Howard. I know."

He reached out and squeezed her hand briefly, his hand clasping warmly around her cold one, his eyes meeting hers gratefully. Then he got back in the driver's seat.

"I'll follow you," Peggy called back to him as she strode back to her car. "Drive fast and don't look back."

"I always do." Howard rolled up the window and put the pedal to the metal, the Jaguar's engine roaring as it leapt into motion. Slamming her door shut, Peggy threw her car into gear and followed hot on his heels.

She was hard-pressed to keep up with him as he navigated the tree-lined road, his Jaguar handling the curves of the dirt road more smoothly than her Ford sedan, but she managed to keep him in her sights. That's why, a few minutes later, she saw it the moment a car suddenly pulled out onto the road right in front of him, forcing Howard to hit his brakes. Peggy hit hers too, only just avoiding rear-ending him.

It was immediately clear that the other driver hadn't simply missed seeing their cars coming in the dark; it continued to brake, forcing Howard to slow even more. The Jaguar crossed the dotted line as if to pass it on the left, but the other car swerved to the center of the road, blocking its passage. In the glow of her headlights, Peggy saw Howard look back over his shoulder at her. Maria was clutching the safety handle on the car's ceiling, looking nervous.

The Jaguar moved back to the right. Peggy knew instantly what Howard wanted her to do, and she was only too happy to oblige. Stepping on the gas, she swerved well onto the left shoulder of the road, kicking up dust as she passed the Jaguar and came up from behind and to the left of the other car, a black one that was difficult to see in the dark.

She glanced over as their two cars pulled even. There were the dark silhouettes of two men inside, and she caught sight of a gun being leveled at her from the passenger seat.

There was no time to question the advisability of it, she simply acted on instinct. Wrenching her steering wheel to the right, Peggy sideswiped the black car and pushed it off the road, both of them veering across the shoulder and into the weeds.

Everything happened so quickly there was hardly time to register it. The other car jounced and jolted down a steep incline that suddenly opened up before them, fishtailing wildly in the light of her headlights, narrowly missing first one tree and then another before disappearing into the underbrush, followed seconds later by a loud, sustained crunching sound.

Peggy was busy desperately trying to regain control of her own car, hands white on the steering wheel and brake pedal pressed to the floorboards, when one tire went down into a deep hole just as another struck a large rock. The car bucked underneath her and she lurched to the side, the seatbelt tightening across her chest but unable to stop her head from smacking against the window. Stunned by the blow, vision blurring, she couldn't avoid all the trees anymore than the other car had been able to. Her car came to an abrupt halt against a thick trunk and she hit her head again, this time against the steering wheel.

Silence fell. Her engine had stopped. Grimacing, Peggy lifted her head off the steering wheel and gingerly felt her head. No blood, but it was extremely tender. An acrid smell was filling the car. Hastily she unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over to open the glovebox, fumbling around until she felt the smooth weight of a flashlight. Gripping it in her right hand, she found the door handle with her left.

She was afraid she would be trapped in the car, but the hood had taken all the damage; the door opened easily and Peggy staggered out onto the uneven ground, head throbbing fiercely. She pointed the flashlight down the incline where the black car had gone, scanning rapidly through the trees. She couldn't spot the car, although it must be close, but its engine had gone silent too, and she couldn't hear anyone trying to get out to continue the pursuit. Making a quick decision, she turned and headed back toward the road, having enough presence of mind to make sure she still had her gun in its holster. She had the flashlight to help her avoid tripping on rocks and bushes, but waves of dizziness made her slow and clumsy and it took longer than she wanted to get back to the road.

The Jaguar wasn't in sight, and as she pointed the flashlight in the direction they had been driving, the beam revealed a long, sturdy fence topped with barbed wire not far from the road. It looked exactly like the type of fence that would surround a private airstrip, and suddenly Peggy's heart leapt inside her chest as she began moving as quickly as she could along the road, her breath coming out in frosty huffs. Was it possible Howard and Maria had made it? Could they be getting in their plane with the serum right now?

And then the roar of a motorcycle engine shattered the night.

Howard's access card got Steve into the house without any trouble, and swiftly and quietly he made his way downstairs. It wasn't hard to guess which way the home theater was; one hallway was lined with movie posters depicting Howard's favorite movie stars from back in the day, and the doorway at the end was covered in a velvety red curtain. Steve knew for sure he was in the right place when he heard Tony's voice muffled through the curtain, and Natty's higher one answering him.

Steve cautiously pulled aside the curtain a crack and peered in. A curved hallway, dim but outlined with white running lights along the floor, led into the theater. He could just see the corner of the big screen from where he stood. A short set of stairs to his left led upward, presumably to the projector booth.

A series of methodical clicks sounded from the top of the stairs, and Steve tensed: that had been the unmistakable sound of bullets being loaded into a gun.

He slipped through the curtain, went up the steps and turned the corner. The movie projector dominated the small room, its lens pointing through a glass partition toward the big screen of the theater below. A man was standing at the back of the booth, out of sight of anyone standing below, his head down as he focused on loading the gun in his hands.

The man jumped visibly when he looked up and saw Steve standing there, and he pointed the gun instinctively, but Steve quickly put both his hands up to show they were empty and mouthed, "Hail Hydra."

The man stared at him, visibly disappointed. "You're my reinforcements?" he hissed.

"I'm all there is."

The man looked irritated, but he lowered the gun and beckoned Steve forward urgently.

"What the hell happened?" the man demanded in a fierce whisper when he got close. "Moran never showed up here, went completely radio-silent. My men couldn't even find him on the road. And the whole time the asset was just standing around the rendezvous site with his hands in his pockets!" He shook his head grimly. "We had to call Pierce himself and get him on the line to give the asset his next instructions. Pierce was furious. Heads are gonna roll when we get back to headquarters. We're gonna have to tell him something. Something to shift the blame." He was trying to hide the fear in his eyes and doing a poor job of it.

"Stark obviously had security we didn't know about," Steve replied in a low voice. He managed to keep his tone casual, but it was difficult to hide the crushing disappointment: if Pierce had given Bucky new orders, then they would override what Mike had told him to do, just as surely as Mike had overridden Moran's orders. And if that was true...

"We have people following Stark now," Steve continued in an undertone, carefully keeping his emotions in check. "In the meantime, what are we gonna do with them?" He cocked his head toward the glass partition through which Natty and Tony's voices could be heard in the theater below, discussing which movie to watch.

"We're standing by until the serum is secured," the man murmured. "They're hoping to get Stark's research notes, too, but we don't know where they are. Junior down there's an ideal hostage for that, but this would have worked a hell of a lot better if we could have taken him back at the airport. It's gonna be a lot harder to keep the scene clean here. I dunno how we'll persuade the cops that-" He broke off in visible frustration and shook his head again, a muscle in his jaw clenching. "Pierce is gonna kill us."

"Who else is in the house?" Steve asked.

"I don't have much of a team left," he said grimly. "But I've got a man at the side door in the kitchen and another standing by with a car just outside it. A lookout's posted on the roof above the front door. And our guard down in the security booth is already scrubbing the surveillance tapes."

Steve nodded seriously. "Good to know."

"When it's time, I'll go down and take the kid," the man said softly. "You deal with the girl. I dunno who she is and frankly I don't care. Just make sure her body ends up somewhere it won't be found. Got it?"

"I hate to be the one to break it to you," Steve said mildly, "but that isn't what's going to happen today."

He stepped behind the man and without hesitation wrapped his arm around the man's throat and yanked him back against his own chest, locking him in a tight and terrible embrace. The gun fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled thump, and silently the man began to struggle.

He fought desperately, trying to pry Steve's arm away, slamming his elbows back repeatedly, and finally wrenching his whole weight from side to side trying to escape that unyielding grip. Tony's laugh incongruously drifted up from the theater below as the man's fists beat uselessly against Steve's arm in one final act of desperation.

When he finally went still, Steve took time only to hide the body and the weapon, and then he was off to find the others.

7:01 p.m., December 16, 1991

Peggy ran as fast as she could. Her head reeled from the impacts of the crash, and waves of nausea roiled in sync with the pulsing pain in her temples, but she forced herself forward anyway, flashlight bobbing, following the road unerringly toward the roar of the motorcycle engine. It was close. She was close. Her heart fluttered painfully as she ran, and she pressed her hand against her chest with a grimace. She knew shouldn't be running this fast. Sarah had warned her against it a few years back. But there was still a chance she could make it. If she could get to Howard and Maria in time, before Bucky did…

A loud, metallic crash assaulted her ears, coming from around a bend in the road. Desperation surged through her veins, and Peggy pushed herself to run even faster, ignoring the twinges in her chest that were now becoming sharp stabs. Through her ragged gasps she thought she heard Maria's voice crying out "Howard!"

It seemed to take an eternity to get there, but finally she came around the bend and registered in a single glance that the Jaguar was smashed against the airstrip's fence, its engine in flames, with the trunk and both front doors hanging open. There was a man standing at the edge of the road not far from the wreckage. A man dressed in black, with the red light of the flames glinting off one metallic arm.

He raised his arm and pointed a gun at the top of the fence. A single shot rang out, muffled by a silencer. The faint sound of tinkling glass was heard, and then he turned his back and strode toward the waiting motorcycle, a silver case in his hand.

Peggy shoved aside the anguish, the pounding pain in her heart and in her skull, and the knowledge that she was much too far away to get a good shot, and pointed her gun, willing her hand to steady despite her shortness of breath… and then lowered her weapon helplessly as the motorcycle roared away into the night. She had no way to pursue him, and it didn't matter, anyway. The damage was already done. The Winter Soldier was going to take his prize back to his masters, deviating from that course only long enough to retrieve the surveillance tapes from the airstrip's control booth first. Everything that was fated to happen would happen. Just as they had known it would.

The motorcycle engine faded away into the distance.

Peggy slumped over, one hand pressed against the rough bark of a tree for support as she panted for air, tears blurring her vision as the realization sunk in. The flashlight slipped from her grip and hit the ground with a thump, its thin beam flickering out.

Too late. She was too late.

But when the wild galloping of her heart had slowed to a manageable pace, she lifted her chin and straightened up, holstering her gun and brushing the dirt from her hands. She went straight to the Jaguar and leaned through the open car door, where Howard was slumped forward, unmoving.

She placed a gentle hand on his chest and pulled him away from the steering wheel, leaning him back limply against the seat. Blood was streaked down his face. Her fingers went to the pulse point on the neck, even though she already knew what she would feel: nothing. He was still warm, but he was gone.

"I'm sorry, Howard," she whispered, sick with grief. "I tried. I tried…"

Hot tears slowly made their way down her cold cheeks, but she kept her hand on his chest and let them slide down. She had known it would end this way, had known it all along, but it didn't hurt any less now that it had come. She'd known him since she was 23 years old. Longer even than she'd known Steve. He'd been by turns charming and maddening… and she didn't know what she would do without him. Swallowing down the grief that threatened to choke her, she reached up and gently closed his eyes.

Then she made her way to the other side of the car and checked on Maria, just to be sure. But there was nothing to be done for her, either. Peggy's eyes drifted down and saw that Maria was holding a photo in her still fingers: Tony showing off his Medal of Honor, a roguish grin creasing his face as he rested his arm casually on the President's shoulder. Steve was standing on the other side, looking serious with his own medal to match gleaming on his chest. Peggy carefully took the photo from Maria's fingers and tucked it into her own breast pocket just as a car came around the bend, its headlights sweeping across her.

The car stopped, and a woman opened the door and came hurrying over to Peggy.

"What happened?" she cried out, taking in the sight of the wrecked car with alarm. "Are they hurt?"

Peggy shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts, forcing herself to adopt an American accent as she responded, knowing that she must not stick in the woman's memory as anything out of the ordinary. "They're already gone," she said quietly.

Horror blossomed on the woman's face, and she hesitantly peered inside the car before gasping. "The Starks! Oh, God!" She paused for a long moment. "Are- are you sure? Maybe-" She put her hand over her mouth to cover a shaky sob.

"I'm sure," Peggy said. "I checked. There's nothing we can do."

"Are you all right?" the woman asked tremulously. "Were you in the car with them?"

"No," Peggy said, eyes distant. "I was walking. I saw them swerve to miss a deer."

The woman took in a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay. My house is just a few minutes away. I'll call the police. You better come with me. It's warm in the car; you must be freezing."

"No thank you," Peggy said softly. "You go. I'll stay here with them."

And she did, alone in the darkness and the silence, until she heard sirens in the distance. Then she slipped into the cover of the trees and began the long, chilly walk back to her car.

"Steve?" she said softly into her comm. "I'm sorry, darling. It's over."

Natty perched on the edge of her velvety seat, every muscle tense, her body twisted to look back toward the entrance of the theater. A while back she had heard some soft sounds coming from nearby: faint whispers, and then a few muffled thumps. Nothing loud enough to alert Tony to anything out of the ordinary — after all, his hearing was not as sensitive as hers — but she had a pretty good idea that Grandpa had been nearby, taking care of a... well, a problem.

She couldn't hear anything unusual now, but the fact that Grandpa hadn't given her an all-clear told her that she still needed to be on her guard.

"Sit back," Tony said from beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her back against the cushioned seat. "Relax." He picked up a remote, pointed it at the projector behind them, and started the movie.

She mostly kept her face toward the screen after that, but still she was listening intently. Listening for any sign of trouble. But the movie played on and nothing happened, until a loud musical chime sounded through the speakers, clashing momentarily with the soundtrack of the movie.

"What was that?" Natty asked, looking around.

"Doorbell. Just ignore it," Tony said. "Probably someone to see my parents. None of my friends know I'm back yet."

"Natty, answer the door," Grandpa murmured unexpectedly in her ear. "It's the police." There was a short pause. "We didn't change anything for Howard and Maria," he continued softly. "They're here to give Tony the news."

Natty's heart sank down to her toes, and she looked over at Tony for a long moment. He was looking up at the screen, lights flickering across his face as the scene played out. He didn't know what had happened, and oh, what she wouldn't give to keep him in the bliss of that ignorance! To keep him here in this time, when he had two parents and everything that kids their age dreamed of, when there was no Ironmonger or Whiplash, no Loki or Mandarin, no Ultron or Thanos. A time when he wasn't Iron Man, just Tony Stark, and he didn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But he would have to face all that. He would have to grow up. As Natty was, too. Already the person she had been just a day ago seemed like a distant dream.

The doorbell chimed again, and Natty steeled herself and stood up. "Where is the bathroom?" she asked Tony.

"Right outside the curtain." Tony gestured with his thumb without looking at her. "To the left."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

But when she was out in the hallway, she walked past the bathroom door and headed for the stairs. "Grandpa, where are you?" she whispered.

"On the roof," he whispered back. "I just took care of the last of the problems. Try to keep the police in the front room. There are some things in the house and the garage they shouldn't see. But don't worry. They aren't here to investigate. They'll just want to talk to him and then they'll leave."

She had reached the top of the stairs. Red and blue lights were flashing through the beautiful fan-shaped window above the double doors, glinting off the ornaments adorning the Christmas tree in the foyer. Heart beating quickly, Natty went straight to the door and opened it.

A uniformed officer, an older man with his police cap in his hand, was standing on the step. A younger officer stood a few steps behind him.

"Miss?" the older man said. "Antonio Perez, Village Police. Is Tony Stark at home?" His face was sober.

Natty gripped the door handle hard so he wouldn't see her hands shaking.

"Yes," she said. "Please come in."

She left them in the music room and hurried back to the theater. Reaching over Tony, she took the remote and paused the movie.

"Tony?" she said into the sudden quiet. "The police are here."

He stared at her blankly. "What?"

"They want to talk to you."

His brow slowly creased. "The police? Are you messing with me?"

"No," she said. "They're in the music room. They want to talk to you."

"They asked for me?"

"By name."

Tony blinked several times, and then he stood up, looking around himself uncertainly for a moment before striding out of the room with a sudden swiftness. Natty hurried to keep up with him.

"What is this?" Tony asked as he entered the music room, looking back and forth between the two officers. "What's the problem?"

"Tony Stark?"

"Yes." Tony's gaze was fierce, but there was a growing fear behind it. "What's going on?"

"Why don't you sit down, son?" the older officer said gently.

They explained to him what had happened, in a direct but gentle way. They were as kind as they could be about it, but by the time they left the house, Tony was hunched up in a ball, clinging to Natty like a life preserver, tears soaking the front of her shirt as his shoulders heaved with sobs.

She cried with him, because there was nothing else she could do for him.

Eventually they both cried themselves dry, and sat together on the couch limp and exhausted. The silence filled the room. Natty couldn't think of any words of comfort that wouldn't ring hollow, and for once in his life Tony didn't seem to want to talk, beyond the bewildered "Why? Why?" he had kept blurting out at the first.

She had just opened her mouth to say something anyway, no matter how inadequate, when she heard the front door open, and a man's heavy footsteps entered.

A bloom of fear managed to penetrate Natty's exhaustion. Who else had access to the house, that they wouldn't knock, but simply walk in as if they belonged there? Where was Grandpa? He had been watching from the roof before, but she hadn't heard from him in what seemed like a long time. What if he had missed one of the Hydra agents? What if he had been lured away or taken down?

Suddenly alert, Natty gently disentangled herself from Tony's grip and stood up, placing herself between Tony and the entrance to the music room, arms spreading out protectively. She was ready, if she had to...

A man walked into the room, his tread slow and deliberate. A silver-haired man in a suit, with an impeccably dignified bearing although he was stooped with age. Not Grandpa. Someone she didn't recognize.

"Master Stark," he said gently. He had a British accent.

Tony looked up with bloodshot eyes.

"Jarvis!" he said hoarsely. In seconds he was up and had thrown his arms around the man.

Jarvis put his arms around Tony in return. "I heard what happened," he said gently, patting Tony's back. "I'm so sorry."

"How are you here?" Tony asked in a dazed kind of way. "I thought you lived in London."

Jarvis cleared his throat slightly. "I... happened to be in the neighborhood." He met Natty's eyes and nodded to her slightly. "Now, I don't want you to worry yourself about any of the arrangements, Master Stark. I'll take care of everything. And I can stay as long as you like. You shouldn't be alone right now."

"Thank you." Tony's voice cracked with emotion, and his fists bunched up Jarvis' suit as he gripped the fabric tightly. "Thank you."

"Miss?" Jarvis said to Natty over Tony's shoulder. "My driver is just outside the door. She can take you back home now."

A little confused, Natty glanced out the window. An Oldsmobile was parked outside, illuminated by the front porch lights, and a blonde woman was standing beside it. It was Aunt Sarah. Surprised, Natty looked back at Jarvis.

"Thank you for your help," he said quietly, holding her gaze. "We won't forget it."

Feeling strangely numb, Natty went outside, where the sharp frosty air woke her up a little. Aunt Sarah held out her arms, and Natty gratefully let herself be embraced by familiar arms as Aunt Sarah whispered in her ear that she had done well, and it was over now. Jarvis had everything under control.

"All the... the men are gone?" Natty asked.

"They're gone," Aunt Sarah quietly confirmed. "They think they have what they came for. It'll be weeks or even months before they find out the serum's no good to them. And with the inventor gone, they'll have no reason to come back." Natty nodded, feeling grateful for that much, at least.

"You see the light at the bottom of the hill?" Aunt Sarah said then, pointing. "The guard station? Bram is down there, wearing a security uniform. He can make a portal for you and you can both go home now."

"He's... wearing a uniform?" Natty repeated, confused.

"Someone needed to let the police through the gate when they came, and the real guard, well..." Aunt Sarah trailed off.

"Oh," Natty whispered. She didn't really want to know any more about that. "But... how did you and Bram get here?" She thought they'd been in Bethesda all this time.

"I opened a portal to the golf course again a little while ago. Grandma had Jarvis pick us up from there. She'd arranged for him to be waiting nearby, knowing... what might happen tonight. Anyway, we dropped off Bram at the guard station and went on to get Grandma."

"Grandma? I thought she was in her car right down there."

Aunt Sarah sighed. "It's a long story. There were a couple of wrecked cars in the woods that needed to be portaled away, and then I sent Grandma home to Dave so he could check her over. She wasn't feeling very well."

Natty didn't really understand, but she was too tired to want to hear the whole story anyway. As long as everyone was safe now, that was all that mattered. "My mom and dad are really okay?"

"They're fine. You can see your mother in just a few minutes. Bram will take you to our house."

Natty paused. "Aren't you coming too?"

"I need to help Grandpa clean up a few things here at the house first." It was only then Natty noticed that Aunt Sarah wasn't looking very well herself; she was noticeably pale. She saw Natty's concerned look and said before she could even ask: "I'm not quite a hundred percent, sweetie, but I can manage. I just need to make a few more portals for him, and then we'll come home too."

"Okay."

She let herself be hugged again and then obediently trudged down the long gravel road alone. And it was only when she got to the bottom of the hill, where her cousin Bram was nervously pacing in front of the guard station waiting for her, that Natty realized she had forgotten to tell Tony goodbye.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's note: This chapter was a bit wrenching to write. I hope it made sense and satisfied everyone's expectations. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought.