A/N: Love to you all; feel free to leave me your thoughts.

"Summer dies, autumn dies, winter is death itself- but spring is eternal."

~Valentin Kataev

A few seconds ticked by with both of them standing motionless, the airport crowd continuing to fluctuate in one multi-colored mass all around.

Avery didn't break her stare with him. She nodded dizzily to acknowledge that she was the one who had spoken.

He looked like he was still trying to shake off the shock of hearing that name.

From the crowd to the right, a black man in cargo pants and a gray jacket appeared, going to him in relaxed familiarity. He asked Rogers something Avery couldn't hear- apparently in a joking way, from the half-smirk on his face- and Rogers said something back. Immediately, the friend's demeanor changed. His posture straightened, grin dropping, eyes becoming sharp and alert. He followed Rogers' gaze to where Avery was standing.

"Wait here," she read the Captain's lips as he started toward her.

Avery could pinpoint the exact moment in the course of his walk that he placed her face. Immediately, a wall went up, and he looked suspicious.

She didn't blame him. If there was anything she'd learned about the way the Soldier's employers worked, it was that they loved using people you thought were safe to kill you. She was probably looking quite a bit like an agent who had masqueraded as a McDonald's worker at this point.

Stopping about a foot away, he glanced around to ensure that no airport worker was within earshot. Again, she was struck by how classically handsome he was- the sandy blonde hair, the elegant cheekbones, the firm mouth, the eyes that were almost the same shade of steely blue as the Soldier's.

Carefully, he demanded, "How did you-?"

"There's a lot I have to tell you," she blurted, "but all you have to know right now is that Bucky's in danger."

His nostrils flared. She felt the fear and guilt that had been building ever since she woke up force the words to come tumbling out in one big rush. Her eyes started to moisten.

"They captured him. They captured him because he was trying to protect me, and they're probably torturing him right now. I didn't know who else to go to." She furiously swiped at her eyes, embarrassed to be going to pieces in front of the living legend that was Captain America. The Soldier's quiet voice once again resounded in her memory.

A failed mission always has...repercussions. I can't go back.

"I have no idea how you feel about him right now," she said, "but if you don't help him, he could die."

Questions were whipping like a hurricane behind the wall of suspicion in Rogers' eyes.

"Who's 'they?' Who captured him?" he questioned.

"I don't know- the people he works for. The ones who wipe his memory."

His eyes flashed. "How do you know about that?"

"It's- well, he's been hiding out at my apartment since he fought you on the Helicarrier. He told me."

"...The Winter Soldier has been hiding out at your apartment."

"Yes."

Clearly, he was debating whether to take her down right then and there.

She tried to get a grip on herself. The more time they wasted in the airport, the more time those people had to mutilate the Soldier.

"I know, I know, I get it. You don't believe me because you think this is a trap or something. But, really, would anyone really come up with as lame a cover story as 'he's been hiding in my apartment'?"

He gave her the stink-eye. "You tell me."

She huffed. "What about your nickname? You know there's no way anyone could know about that unless you- or Bucky- told someone about it. Right?"

He pressed his lips together and scrutinized her. Every muscle in her body was taut.

After an eternity, he shifted, wordlessly pulling a phone out of his pocket. He only broke eye contact to dial a number. She heard the line ringing while he continued to watch her. Heaven knows, she was used to being scrutinized by now. The Captain's perturbed glare wasn't half as unnerving as when the Soldier examined her.

Then again, it wasn't as familiar, either.

Someone picked up.

"I'm going to be late," he said into the phone. "I think we have a lead."

Hope blossomed in her chest. She heard someone speaking on the other end, but the words were an unintelligible garble.

He continued, "Not sure. Yeah. Thanks." Then he hung up. Avery was vaguely aware that his friend was walking toward them, politely dodging travelers.

"This better be good," the man called facetiously, sensing that Avery didn't pose a real threat, "Those seats were first class."

He was about average height, medium built, and had the kind of smile that immediately made people want to be his best friend. As with the Captain, she could tell that, beneath his jacket, he was ridiculously muscular. It occurred to her that this was probably the same man she'd seen fighting with Cap in the news footage.

When Rogers put the phone away, he looked at Avery again, cautiously reassessing her. "Okay. You have my attention."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"...but they ambushed us in the middle of the street. He pushed me out of the way and fought them- all of them- off, like they were nothing. Then... someone in a helicopter shot some kind of electrically charged grappling hook at him."

The trio had moved to a more secure location, an empty waiting area for a flight that had been long delayed. She sat facing both of them in one of the narrow leather chairs. Behind them, the enormous glass window revealed behemoth planes rolling back and forth along the tarmac.

In a little less than two hours, she spun her tale from beginning to end, starting with the day she first saved the Soldier in the street, including how she helped him repair his arm, explaining how he had remembered Cap through his dreams, and finishing with what had happened at the museum exhibit almost two days before. Rogers' friend- who introduced himself simply as 'Sam'- would jump in every so often with an astute question.

The Captain himself, however, sat grim and silent, visibly dissecting her every word. At one point, when Avery had explained how the Soldier had begun to act more human by the end of their time together, his shoulders dropped a little. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his chin absentmindedly with one hand.

"...The shock completely incapacitated him. They threw him into the helicopter and flew away before I could reach him."

In her mind, she saw his hand feebly straining to reach her, spasming erratically. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"You just-" she begged, "You have to help. I have a horrible feeling that we might be too late already." She looked up at them again. Sam was frowning slightly, and Rogers looked stony and serious. "He saved my life. Please help me save his."

At that, some of the wall obscuring Rogers' face crumbled. With a touch of resolve, he said, "Don't worry. We'll find him. You did the right thing coming to us."

Avery suppressed tears again, this time of relief.

"Do you remember which way the helicopter was headed?" Sam asked.

Swallowing once and clearing her throat, she responded, "Yeah, yeah. We were facing the Air and Space Museum...it was flying toward the Washington Monument."

"Did it have racks jutting out on the sides? Like big fuel canisters?" he continued.

"Yes. Huge ones," she said, every detail of the thing seared into her memory.

"Long distance," Rogers said aside. "Wherever they took him, he's nowhere near us now."

"Think there's anything at the scene that'd point us in the right direction?" Sam asked him.

"No. There's no way HYDRA would be that sloppy. Especially not when they put so much effort into planting the 'movie set' cover."

Avery's attention snagged. "HYDRA? Why does that...?"

"Sound familiar?" Sam finished for her. "I'm guessing you haven't been watching the news much lately."

"Haven't really had time, no," Avery said, deadpanning.

Sam gave a half-grin. "Yeah. Well, Cap's old friends from the 40's came back from the dead recently. Except, as it turns out, they were never really dead."

Avery's eyebrows knitted together. "Oh, God. The Nazis on steroids? That HYDRA?"

Sam nodded amusedly. With a smirk and quirked eyebrow, Rogers answered, "That HYDRA. They infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. before it was even fully functional. We thought we'd gotten rid of them when we took down the whole operation a few days ago, but apparently not," he grimaced.

Avery was suddenly feeling very queasy. "And...that's who he worked for?"

Rogers gave one steady nod. She felt the blood drain out of her face.

Sure, it had been bad not knowing who was controlling the Soldier, but it was much worse knowing that they were Nazis.

Not to mention they were the type of Nazis that the Nazis had been afraid of.

Avery's head was throbbing violently again, and she winced. The traces of humor fell from Sam's face, and Rogers watched her with concern.

"You alright?" Rogers asked.

She gulped, gripping the armrest. "Um- yeah, I'll be fine." She took one slow breath in and gave a drawn-out exhale, staring at the floor. "How are we going to track him?"

"'We?' You're staying."

Avery jerked to attention. "What?"

Sam began kindly, "Look, you've done a great thing, you've helped us a lot. But you're a civilian. It's-"

"If you say 'too dangerous,' I don't care that you're both super soldiers, I will smack you."

The men looked mildly taken aback.

"Do you even realize what I've been through in the past week? Do you even get why? My life is dangerous now. HYDRA, apparently, was out to get me because they associated me with you," she looked at Rogers. "It's only a matter of time before they come after me again for the same reason. You're not doing me any favors by leaving me behind, and I am not just going to sit at home and wait while my friend is being tortured to death. I'm coming."

Sam looked at Rogers for the final say. Contrary to what she expected, Rogers looked like he was trying to suppress a smile. "Fair point."

Avery took a breath.

"You can come on one condition," Rogers said, turning serious. "You have to follow orders. We tell you to stay somewhere, you stay. We tell you to hide, you hide. And there is no way you're coming along on the recovery mission when we find out where he is. Got it?"

She nodded.

"You really think that's such a good idea?" Sam asked him quietly. "You know better than anyone how dangerous these guys are."

Rogers regarded Avery thoughtfully. She tried not to look intimidated. Sam's words had brought her doubts to the foreground- was this more than she could handle? Was she just walking right into something she couldn't possibly hope to walk out of?

Rogers replied, "The way I see it, you're both right. HYDRA's dangerous. When they want something, they don't give up easy. For that exact reason, she'll be safest where we can keep a close eye on her."

Sam looked uncomfortable. "If you say so."

Avery took a deep breath. Too late to turn back now.

Bucky, she reminded herself. You're doing this for him.

"She had a good question, though," Sam said. "Barnes could be anywhere. How are we gonna track him?"

Rogers opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short, eyes flitting to something behind Avery. Sam's attention, too, was diverted.

"Welp. That answers that," the latter said.

Avery's head twitched to the side, and she turned in the chair to get a better look.

"No," she said, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She stood, and the men followed suit languidly behind her.

Rogers' phone rang. He sighed, donning an unimpressed face to mask his own smile. He tapped the speaker button and said, "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"You were taking too long," a male, mid-depth voice floated out. "I already redirected your bags. Tell your 'lead' he can come along, I'm sure he can help us find your brainwashed assassin buddy."

"Actually, it's a she," Rogers said. "And she was already coming."

"Ah, even better! Can't wait to meet her. See you in about forty minutes."

He hung up. Silhouetted against the glass window, the Captain, the soldier, and the civilian stood staring at the enormous streamlined jet outside labeled Stark Industries.

Avery blinked at the phone. "Was that...?"

"Yeah. The one and only," Rogers scoffed.

They watched as the hatch on the side of the jet swung open and a pilot peeked his head out. Immediately, an aircraft director in an orange vest ran up and started yelling at him, presumably for parking there without official permission.

"Hey," Sam said suddenly, turning, "I don't think we ever got your name."

"It's Avery," she said distractedly.

"Nice to meet you, Avery," Sam said, smiling and extending his hand for a shake. She smiled hesitantly back and shook it.

"Sam," she said, nodding. She turned to do the same to Rogers. "Captain."

"Steve," he said kindly.

"Steve."

Outside, they had resolved the quarrel, and the man in the orange vest was begrudgingly rolling a ladder up to the side of the aircraft.

"Alright," Steve said, starting toward the exit to the left. "Let's bring Bucky home."