Chapter 12

'Evil begins when you begin to treat people as things.' Terry Pratchett

It was over before it had even begun. In the second that the officer had pulled the trigger Ally had known that it was over. Twelve against one were impossible odds. Yet the second that the officer pulled the trigger and that bullet came barrelling towards her head Ally came to realise just exactly who James Buchanan Barnes actually was. He wasn't a war hero, he wasn't Captain America's best friend and he most certainly wasn't just a simple HYDRA agent. She had known he was strong, he had to have been to fight Captain America but what she hadn't realised was that he was a ruthless killer.

People often say that in these situations your life flashes before your eyes. That you relive all of your happiest moments or list all of your greatest regrets in those last few moments of existence. Ally however didn't experience any of that. She didn't have time to. By the time she had even processed that a bullet was hurtling straight towards her forehead the man beside her had sprung into action. Everything around her exploded. Everything became a blur of sound and movement, overloading her senses. Screams, yells and gunshots filled her ears. Everything moved so quickly, so quickly that Ally's mind and eyes could not keep up, could not process what was happening. Bucky manoeuvred her body around him as if they were both part of an intricate dance. He spun her around keeping her behind him or bringing her in front of him, constantly keeping her out of danger. She stayed close to him, clinging to him, feeling the power of his muscles under her fingers as he lurched spun and twisted.

Suddenly Ally felt herself being dragged back from her protector, being yanked back by her hair. Her hands flew to her head at the pain and she stumbled backwards, losing her footing and crying out in pain as she tumbled to the ground, falling until her head hit the solid concrete beneath her. Groaning she reached behind her to touch the tender spot at the back of her scalp, relieved to see no blood on her fingers.

Blinking hard to refocus her vision she heard a thump to her right hand side and felt the gust of hair on her face as something fell beside her. Turning her head to the side her heart lurched forward, slamming into her chest before coming to a complete stop. Ally wanted to scream, but though her mouth was open, the sound wouldn't come out. She couldn't breathe; all she do was stare at the face lying on the ground in front of her. The glassy eyes stared back at her, the mouth wide open like a cavernous black hole, the neck twisted grotesquely at an impossible angle. Scrambling back in fear Ally pulled herself up to her knees and suddenly realised just how quiet it was. She braced herself, knowing deep down what she would see, but it still wasn't enough to prepare her for the shock of what she saw when she finally turned around. Dead men littered the alleyway ground, strewn in awkward positions Limbs sticking out at strange angles. Holes in foreheads. Unseeing eyes. Blood. So much blood.

The horror paralysed her as she looked around, trying hard not to see their faces, trying to block the Image from her mind. She didn't know how long she would have sat there if he hadn't pulled her out of it. 'Get up,' he demanded, looming over her. 'We need to move.'

Ally looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes as if seeing him again for the first time. Blood was spattered across his face and streaked across his hands. He didn't even looked out of breath or fatigued in any way. She knew she should probably have stayed silent and done what he asked, but she couldn't help herself. 'You... you... killed them. All of them.'

Bucky could see the judgement in her eyes. The fear. The horror. He let his eyes scan over the scene. Twelve targets nuetralised. He wouldn't feel guilty. It was them or him. There was no other way out. He knew. He'd been through it before. They would have kept coming if he hadn't stopped them. Besides they had seen face. Seen Ally's face. They couldn't be allowed to live. He refused to feel guilty. He had to keep them both safe. He had to get them out of here. He reached down and pulled her off the ground and to her feet, ignoring her flinching away from him. If he could leave her behind he would but they'd come too far for that. Leaving her behind would mean another dead body to add to the pile already littering the street. Another black mark against his name. What was one more? Why couldn't he leave her? Why was that annoying feeling of guilt niggling in the pit of his stomach?

He knew they had to leave. They had to move quickly. The next wave would be more numerous, be more skilled, have better weapons. He couldn't take that chance.

He reached down and picked up the cap that had fallen from her head and to the ground when she had fallen. He passed it to her, holding it out between them. When she didn't move to take it he grew impatient and pulled it down on her head anyway, probably more forcefully that he should have, he wasn't exactly used to being gentle, before grabbing her arm and pulling her through the maze of bodies and broken glass littering the ground. He needed to get them out of here. He needed to leave D.C. He needed a car. Then he needed a plan. He needed to end this once and for all.

A/N- thanks again to everyone who had read, favourites and reviewed. I know this is a short chapter but it just felt right to keep it separate from the previous chapter. I've already started the next chapter so hopefully I'll have it with you soon. Please bear with me. I'm finding action quite hard to write.