Chelsea: Okay, Keeper is sorry for the delay, but she's kind of lacking motivation...and, in some cases, wifi.

Jamie: Keeper's got a question: This one is set up to have a sequel, but do you guys really want it to continue or to just end off here? Let her know in a PM or review so she can determine whether or not to continue this.

Chelsea: Also, the updates but be coming slower, but that's only because Captain America: The Winter Soldier is coming out on dvd in September and she wants to limit the amount of stuff she has to re-do to make it more accurate. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

"Icarus' flying to close to the sun, Icarus' life it had only just begun." -Bastille, Icarus

Director Nemo handed each of them a gun. "Good luck. I believe in you, Fury believed in you, Danielle believed in you. Don't screw this up." She ordered. "Beware the strike team."

They were practically shoved into the hallway, bumping into Steve on the way. "You got the USB?" Jamie whispered. He nodded and took her hand nonchalantly, slipping the USB into her possession. She quickly hid it in her pocket and they entered the elevator. "Who was that guy on the roof?" She asked. "I've got a feeling we haven't seen the last of him.

"He's called The Winter Soldier," Chelsea replied. None of them looked at anyone else. They were utilizing the time they had before anyone else came into the elevator. "He's a ghost. Responsible for dozens of assassinations and terrorist attempts, nothing is really known about him personally."

"Where's Natasha?" Steve whispered as he punched the ground level button. "She'd know more."

"'There is no relationship with Natasha,'" Jamie mocked. "'There was only you.'"

"Jamie, there is no way we're having this conversation now."

"There's no way Natasha is coming with us."

The elevator doors opened and in came the strike team as well as several men with briefcases. Jamie groaned and her eyes narrowed. "I know where to go," She said. "And it's not Jamie. It's Proserpina."

"Hey," Chelsea warned, her eyes flickering to the tense men, waiting for the opportune moment to attack. "If we're exchanging names, maybe we should save it for later."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Before we begin, does anyone want to get out?" Jamie cracked her knuckles.

"Um," Chelsea stammered. "I do."

"Steve, if you talk about Natasha in front of me again, I'm going to punch a hole through your shield." She warned, as the men looked around, slightly concerned.

"I wasn't talking about her!"

"Just like you didn't kiss her?"

"Jamie! What the hell is wrong with-"

"Oh, screw it!" Jamie sucker-punched the strike team leader in the face, starting the elevator brawl.

"Minerva, look out!" She exclaimed, then shoved her in the corner of the lift.

"Here!" Amidst the intense fighting, someone hit the button that made the lift jerk to a stop and Steve gave Chelsea his shield. She curled into the smallest ball possible and used the infamous seventy-year-old shield to protect herself from oncoming assaults.

"Were you fighting with me to have a reason to throw the first punch?!" Steve shouted.

"Maybe!" Jamie replied as she kicked some business guy in the gut and knocked him over the head, taking out his consciousness.

"You became a drama queen over the last two years! An unemotional, jealous, drama queen!"

"You're one to talk Captain Steve Rogers, ninety-year-old swim suit model extraordinaire!" She sneered, ramming two heads together and simultaneously knocking them both unconscious.

Steve was throwing punches left and right, taking out the lights in many a bad guy. "'Swim suit model'?!"

"Well, you're not exactly a couch potato, Mr. On Your Left!"

"Jamie," He took out the last man, pulled her close, then kissed her right there. "Can I have the care-free Persephone come back?"

Jamie, though she did succumb to the kiss, backed away and helped Chelsea to her feet. "Proserpina," She corrected. "And this is Minerva. Don't forget it. We are here to honour the memory of Danielle Jones by continuing her legacy one more time. After this, you won't ever see me again. Ever."

"Glad that was cleared up," Chelsea interrupted. "But we've got a problem. We are God knows how many stories up and we're not getting out through the front door."

"We're getting out through The Bushes," Jamie corrected. "Steve, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" She nodded towards the glass on the back of the elevator which faced the courtyard.

"Yeah, come here, Minerva," Steve emphasized her name and looked pointedly at Jamie. Chelsea hadn't caught on, but listened to Steve regardless. He wrapped an arm around Chelsea.

"Damn it," Jamie whispered. "This is your fault. Now let's go!"

They ran through the glass.

Both Jamie and Chelsea felt shards of glass pass through their arms, legs and faces. Their stomachs flipped over and over as they tumbled through the air. Impact was worse. Jamie felt the bones in her right leg snap and she cried out in agony. Chelsea had numerous cuts and her wrist was echoing pain. She had sprained it, the impact lessening for her because Steve had cushioned it.

Jamie bit back more screams as she shifted. "Minerva, help." She reached out. Chelsea became her crutch while she focused on ignoring the pain.

"Take your cycle and meet us at the mall." Jamie ordered. Steve raised an eyebrow, silently asking what she intended to do. "Not the National Mall, the mall mall. We're going to take a car. Just get the hell out of here!"

Without looking back, the duo stumbled to Chelsea's car after Jamie made her switch plates with another car in the visitor's section. "We're going to the mall mall?" Chelsea asked. She pulled out of the parking space and texted a pass-code to the number 732-1773: The Bush. It opened the secret passage through the forest of bushes up front, allowing them to exit the government property currently on lockdown.

"Every dumb ass working at SHIELD who is a traitor bought a one-way ticket to hell." Jamie muttered as she snapped a meter stick in half and used gauze to make a splint for her legs.

"How's your rib?" Chelsea asked, her eyes searching Jamie for possible solutions to her dilemma. She ignored the throbbing pain of the sprain, silently promising to bind it when they stopped. "And your leg?"

Jamie dry-swallowed three pain-killers. "Painful. The rib is healed, though. Give the leg a dayor two and it'll be fine, too."

Chelsea shook her head. "Jamie, you're not Danielle, you can't just walk it off like her-"

"You're right, I'm not her." She growled. She was not about to be lectured about their leader, a woman that the lecturer had murdered. "And I'm tired of everyone comparing me to her. I'm different. I heal faster. This has nothing to do with Danielle!" She took a breath and sighed, then burst into tears. "Danielle's buried. Let her stay buried.