Author's Note: For as much as I love action and adventure, I find writing fight scenes exhausting. There's also just a lot going on in this chapter that I hope I make clear enough without coming right out and saying it - some of it will be clarified in later chapters or the next story (what's that? a trilogy, you say? yeah...i just can't help myself) but this chapter is where the magic happens.

I hope all of my readers (both of you) continue to enjoy. My goal is to end with twenty-one chapters, post a light holiday fic or two, and begin the third story after the New Year.

Chapter Eighteen

Steve looked up at the window he'd just fallen out of, not entirely sure what'd hit him.

Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. He knew what had hit him. Or who, actually. He just wasn't sure how.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, before that someone was following the same path through the air that he'd taken.

Steve rolled, just missing the full weight of Rumlow as the Hydra agent landed heavily on his feet next to him.

Steve got to his feet and charged at Rumlow, only to have his first several blows blocked by a far faster and stronger agent than he remembered.

He'd sparred with Rumlow during their time with STRIKE, but nothing the former team commander had ever thrown at Steve compared to this. It wasn't long before Steve was on the defensive, ducking, blocking and dodging hits and kicks. Even after he'd managed to dislodge his shield from its harness under his jacket, Steve had a difficult time getting the upper hand.

It's like fighting Bucky, he thought, not liking the implication.

When he'd fought Rumlow at Sharon's grandparents' cabin, Steve could tell he'd been juiced with something, though it still hadn't been enough to match Steve's own strength and speed.

Now, however, Steve was worried Hydra had finally unlocked the secret to the super soldier serum and had turned Rumlow into someone he couldn't beat. He'd never backed down from a fight just because a foe was stronger or faster but he had been on the losing end enough times to know that, if this kept up, it wasn't going to end well.

As he tried to keep up with Rumlow, Steve worried about Sharon. She was alone up there with an armed Ranger Rick and her psychotic cousin. He knew she could take care of herself in a normal situation but this situation had turned into one far from normal.

Sharon heard the sounds of Steve's fight with Rumlow through the broken window and struggled futilely against her bonds. There was nothing she could do for Steve, or even herself, at the moment.

"Don't worry, Sharon," Trent said casually, pulling a chair up beside hers. "Brock's under orders not to kill him - just bloody him a bit."

Usually she wouldn't have thought that likely but the fight had already gone on longer than it should have - Steve should have been able to take Rumlow out in hand-to-hand with one of his tied behind his back. The fact that they'd been going for nearly five minutes had her on edge and wishing she could get her own hands on a weapon.

"So," Trent began, leaning casually back in his chair and resuming his line of questioning. "You didn't know that Mother was investigating me yet you somehow managed to track me down here anyway. I find that hard to believe, Sharon."

"It's true," she countered, seeing no reason not to admit how they'd found them. "We discovered the tracker on my car and traced it when it activated this morning. We assumed Rumlow put it there but we weren't sure who or what we were going to find in the middle of Antietam. You were not my first guess."

"You didn't seem overly surprised to see me."

Again, seeing no reason to lie, Sharon admitted, "We heard Aunt Peggy was trying to find out who had poisoned her and that you had become a suspect but I don't think she had any reason to doubt you before that.

"I should hope not," Trent said with a dramatic sigh. "I've worked very hard for many years to hide it from her. A shame she had to figure it out before I got what I needed from her."

"And what was that?"

"Now, Sharon," he admonished, "You are the one tied to a chair and I am the one asking the questions. Let's just say Mother has something that certain someones would like and they'd be very much appreciative if I was able to get it from her." He gave her a look. "You wouldn't know anything about this certain something, would you?"

"Not without knowing what the certain something is."

"Nice try but I'm still not going to tell you," Trent said, narrowing his eyes and taking a look at his watch. "I guess this means your usefulness has been reduced to that of a bargaining chip if Brock can't take down your boyfriend soon."

He stood and addressed Rick. "Put her in Brock's room. She can be his special treat when he's done with Captain Rogers."

Rick moved to comply, using his knife to loosen the binds that held Sharon's left hand. She flexed her hand, her fingertips tingling as her circulation returned.

As Rick worked, Trent moved to look out the broken window. He looked at his watch and then back out before, his lips pursed with concern.

"This has taken too long," he said to Rick, sounding surprisingly on edge to Sharon's ears considering his calm at their arrival. "Leave her for now and get a couple of the guys to help Brock finish with Captain Rogers."

Rick moved to comply but said, "He's not going to like that."

"In two minutes he won't have a choice. If we can't take Rogers down now, even our bargaining chip might not be enough to stop him from tearing this place apart."

"Do you want Plan B?" Rick asked, holstering his knife.

Trent hesitated and then nodded.

"I'm on it," the Hydra ranger said, using the radio at his shoulder to call for his associates as he left the kitchen.

Trent looked at his watch again and frowned even more deeply.

As the seconds ticked by, Trent became more and more agitated and Sharon used his distraction to her advantage. Somehow, it had escaped both his and Rick's notice that they'd left one of her hands free.

As subtly as she could, she used that free hand to quietly unzip her hiking pack at her waist as Trent continued to stare out the window.

Brock was getting tired. He could practically hear the countdown in his head as he delivered a series of kicks and punches that had begun to feel too slow, too sluggish. He knew he needed to take down Rogers and take him down now before he was completely drained.

The hero's unwillingness to yield was maddening. Already, Rogers had sustained blows that should have knocked him to his knees, super soldier or not.

Brock had been preparing for this confrontation for months, had allowed Hydra's scientists to experiment on him, for the chance to take down Captain America. With every minute that ticked by, he could feel that chance slipping away.

He could feel his reflexes getting sloppy, taking a hit as his block didn't come up fast enough. He knew from testing that it wouldn't be long before his vision started to blur and not long after he wouldn't be able to stand. The strain of the drugs in his system, coupled with the physical exertion, was just too much for the human body to endure. In another couple of minutes, he knew from experience, he would collapse where he stood and sleep for days while his body recovered.

Before that happened, Brock knew that they'd initiate Plan B, even though he knew some of the lesser agents liked to call it Plan C.

For cannon.

It had been a hairbrained idea, likely inspired from too much time pretending to be Civil War experts, but somehow Rick had managed to turn two of the battlefield cannons into fully operational weapons.

Even as the edges of Brock's vision got hazy, he could see that Rick and another agent were wheeling the cannons into position. And he was barely awake when the first cannonball flew past him, taking Captain America with it.

With Trent's eyes fixed on the fight outside the window, Sharon slowly used her small hunting knife to saw through the binds on her right wrist.

Every so often Trent would look at his watch and then glance back at her but his focus seemed solely on the Rumlow and Steve.

Finally, she cut through the last of the rope and flexed her fingers as she had the first hand. She traded the knife for the collapsible baton in her pack and slowly rose out of the chair.

Without a sound, she flicked her wrist to expand her weapon to sixteen inches of solid metal and prepared to strike her cousin from behind.

As she raised her hand, both she and Trent were startled by the thundering boom that erupted below them and she looked out in horror as Steve was propelled backward several yards, colliding with the brick wall of the spring house.

After a breathless moment, Steve stood but Sharon could see that his arm and shield hung uselessly at his side and he leaned heavily against the brick.

Her heart pounded and the blood roared in her ears.

Sharon didn't bother with the baton and struck Trent with a solid right hook, his body falling limply to the floor. She turned and sprinted through the house, her body on autopilot as she neutralized the startled Hydra agents who got in her way.

She barreled through the front door, sending another agent flying backward down the stairs. She turned and ran to the end of the porch, making a fluid leap that barely interrupted her stride.

Sharon locked her eyes on Rick and another ranger as they fired a second cannon at Steve.

A howl ripped from her throat as she saw Steve go down, this time crashing into a service jeep parked in the drive.

She launched herself at Rick, her momentum knocking him on top of the other agent, who lost consciousness when his head collided with the ground.

Rick leaped up, clearly surprised at the sight of Sharon and the maimed rangers she'd left in her wake. He lunged at her, his arms open and she delivered an upward swing to his solar plexus that had him grasping for air. He stumbled forward and she delivered a kick, sending him to the ground as well.

Without a backward glance and her heart in her throat, Sharon ran across the yard.

A bruised, bloodied and barely breathing Steve was curled on his side in front of the jeep he'd hit, the front end of the vehicle bashed in.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god," Sharon chanted, slowly rolling him over and unable to hold back her gasp. Steve's eye was swollen shut, his lip split and, she feared, his jaw and cheek broken. She ran her hands down his body and tried to remove his shield to see how badly his left arm was hurt - and froze when Steve moaned. She looked more closely and saw that his arm was obviously broken and his shield was acting as a brace.

"Oh god," she said again. "Steve? Can you hear me?"

He didn't respond and Sharon blinked back tears. She had to hold it together. They weren't out of the woods yet and she needed to get him out of there.

The jeep had keys hanging from the ignition and rumbled to life on the second try.

Sharon dragged Steve as gently as she could, torn between the need for speed and not wanting to inflict more damage than Hydra had already done, and helped him lay down in the backseat.

As soon as he was settled, she jumped into the driver's seat and gave the historic farmhouse a final look before slamming the jeep into reverse and backing out of there as fast as the damaged vehicle could taken them.