A/N: Fairly short chapter, but big things are on the horizon. Five more chapters after this, guys. I hope you all enjoy!

Jane hit the target. It was a tiny nick on the edge of the rubber, but she still hit it. That was a victory, and way better than adding yet another scar to the already battle-weary trees. If Jane was more of an environmental advocate, she'd be on her knees in tears by now. If she ever got back to her time, she'd plant ten new trees just to make up for it.

At least she was making progress. After three hours of dismal failure, that had to get a smile out of him.

He was frowning.

"Again," he said.

"Are you serious?" Jane snapped.

"No backtalk, soldier. Do it again."

"I've done it a million times now!"

"Do it a million and one more."

Groaning like a child before a mountain of homework, Jane raised the gun, took aim, and shot the tree again. A branch flew off and she offered a silent word of apology. Another bullet disappeared into the forest. Then it was time to reload.

"I thought you'd be happy," Jane said as she filled the chamber.

"Why's that?"

God, he was serious. "I hit the target!"

"Yeah, once."

"I still got it. Don't you believe in positive reinforcement?"

"I'm in the army, Jane. You tell me."

She wished she had the power to scare him into submission. As it stood, her glare was as intimidating as a pink fluff bunny and she knew it. That didn't stop her from trying.

Bucky laughed deep in his belly. "Would you relax? There's no way you can't handle this."

"How do you know?"

"Isn't it obvious?" After a long beat of silence, he seemed to realize that no, it wasn't. "You're an astrophysicist, Jane. You got 'Doctor' in front of your name. I looked at what it takes to get into your field. If you can do that, hitting one little target will be a piece of cake."

He sounded so sure, he could almost trick her into believing him. It was that smile. The damn thing was lethal. It got her to raise the gun again and assume the stance he spent over an hour teaching her. Focusing all her energy on the tiny red dot in the middle of the target, Jane successfully unloaded six bullets into a nearby bush.

Her shoulders dropped. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As she dropped the gun on a large tree stump, Bucky lunged at her. Before she could scream, he was running his fingers along her sides. "How's this for confidence?"

"Bucky, stop!" Jane could hardly speak through the laughter.

Fighting him off was futile. She was resigned to the tickling torment until the snow under their feet suddenly caved in. They clung to each other as they hit the ground. The snow cushioned the impact and Jane felt no pain. She tried to roll away, but Bucky wouldn't let go. Their laughter soared over the trees until their lips met and they lost themselves in each other.

The soldier ran away.

He was running away.

This wasn't right. The mission was incomplete. All targets had not been disposed of and there were witnesses everywhere. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Irrelevants becoming new targets.

His handlers hadn't specified that he leave no witnesses. On a busy highway at midday that would be impossible. If the soldier questioned the wisdom of sending him out in an open area with no regard for physical evidence, he'd never say so. Because he didn't ask questions. His questions didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the mission.

And her.

The soldier ran away and he ran with the woman. His fingers were tangled in the sleeve of her shirt. It was torn and soiled. Her arms were scraped and caked in dirt. Her wrist was too thin and his hand enveloped it. He took them deep into the shadows and she didn't resist. She didn't seem capable of it. She might not have known where she was.

Had the explosion disoriented her? That was one of his targets firing the rocket. He should go back and kill her. Make it slow and painful. If she had dared to take away what was his…

The sirens faded to silence. They entered a part of the city untouched by the battle. Irrelevants idled, talking on phones and drinking coffee. The soldier heard snippets of conversations and took whiffs of nutty scents. Some of it sent sparks through him, but that was normal. He would pause at times if he heard certain words. Things like 'dance' and 'punk'. Meaningless phrases that affected him for unimportant reasons. He'd learned to shut them out. It was one of the few things he remembered between missions.

The woman didn't speak. She didn't cry or fight back. All she did was run. When she didn't run, he dragged her, but she almost always ran.

They made it another three blocks. He couldn't see the smoke anymore. No one was following them. There was one more knife on his belt and a gun that may have been empty on his thigh. If he had to, he could fight his way out. He didn't expect an ambush with the mission (his mission) still incomplete, but they'd come for him eventually. Hunt him down, chain him up, take her away.

No. Not again.

He didn't care about the mission. The bile rushing to his throat was nothing compared to losing her. He did not care about the mission. He did not care about HYDRA. As long as this woman was in his arms, it could all go to hell. If they came after him, he'd kill them. However many it took. Even if it made him want to vomit. Even if he woke up every morning with 'ready to comply' on his lips.

The woman had come for him. They tried to take her away, but she came for him. She told the man on the bridge to stop. She tried to protect him.

She called him that name again.

'It's Bucky! Bucky is the Winter Soldier, Steve!'

Was he?

And that was another thing. Who was the man on the bridge?

Something in his eyes took the soldier to another place. He heard laughter, smelled burning salt and sweat. He clenched his fists for a fight or a boxing match. The first time he saw the man on the bridge, the soldier almost looked down. Even though the man on the bridge was taller than him. It felt like he shouldn't be…

But the man on the bridge was the mission. He wasn't his like the woman. By now, he'd been extracted. They'd probably kill him or torture him for information. If they went with the latter, he'd be blindfolded in a hole somewhere by tomorrow. That didn't bother the soldier at all because he had the woman and that was what mattered.

Up ahead was an alley. The only one of its kind. Down the alley were darkness, overturned shopping carts, and a large dumpster covering half the space. The soldier changed course. Her breathing was erratic, her heart pounding. Sweat slicked his hand and he nearly lost his grip. If he wanted, he could carry her, but he needed to reload. Take stock of what he had on him. While she caught her breath, he could scout out the area, make sure they were alone. He was certain he'd have heard them coming, but he couldn't take the risk. There were bigger fish out there than him, a fact he knew painfully well.

"God…" the woman gasped. The soldier didn't know what she meant.

He slowed in front of the dumpster and pushed her behind it. The ground was filthy. He kicked away some garbage bags and brushed aside a layer of dirt. It was vaguely approaching presentable now and he guided the woman to sit. She did without complaint, whimpering through choked puffs of air. Her face was bright red and her eyes bulging. She brought a hand to her chest as if that would keep her heart in place. The soldier backed up to give her space.

While he waited, he checked the roofs and windows. Most of them were caked with so much grime that even infrared goggles would be useless. The only shadows were of birds and no one walked by except civilians.

He never heard a gun cock. No flash bombs were thrown. Knives didn't appear out of the cracks in the walls and when he happened to run his hand over a jagged piece of rock, poison didn't knock him out.

They were safe here.

They were safe here.

He had to keep her safe.

The woman was no longer hyperventilating. That was probably a good sign. As her breathing slowed, she dried her sweat-soaked brow with her shirt. A large stain spread, but she didn't seem to care. The soldier looked around again. There were no towels. Nothing in the dumpster would be clean. He could give her his jacket, but leather would just make it worse. She buried her head between her legs and whispered words so softly, even the soldier couldn't hear them. What little he caught was less than coherent. They might not have meant anything at all.

"God…" she said again, and then she looked up.

Her eyes were red.

When had she started crying? Why the hell hadn't he noticed? If he knew who had done this, he'd kill them. Except he did it. He made her cry, and he couldn't kill himself.

He touched her face. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as if to memorize his scent. Every bone in her body was loose, soft, and pliable. Not a hint of tension. A car drove by, loud music blaring. The soldier jerked his hand back and was reaching for the gun by the time the engine vanished into the distance.

When he turned back, she had backed up an inch. Dammit. He had to stop this.

Her mouth was open, lips slightly parted. They were chapped and bloody, deep red spots drying on the side of her mouth. She licked them, which barely helped. It looked like she wanted to speak, but what could either of them possibly say?

The soldier could think of one thing. It was probably very stupid. It was possibly not even true. It would definitely get him strapped to a bed if his handlers got ahold of him, but it needed to be said.

"I know you."

The woman's face didn't change, save for the flex of her jaw and a blink of her eyes. Her shining eyes. He had done it again.

"Yeah," she croaked, a watery smile doing nothing to hide her permeating sorrow. "You know me."

His next words just slipped out. "I knew him."

Now her eyes widened, fat tears rolling free unheeded. With something akin to a laugh, she took his hand. "You do."

The soldier nodded. "You know me?"

The woman's smile grows with the number of trails down her cheeks. She squeezed his hand with her pitiful strength and he'd never felt warmer in his life. "I do. I know you very well."

"Tell me."

The woman sniffled, wiping her eyes clean. "We met at a dance hall. I was alone and you bought me a drink. You were the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life, even if I didn't know it yet."

Quiet laughter wracked her tiny form. The soldier almost mistook it for crying. He pulled her closer. It felt like the right thing to do.

"You asked me to dance, and you taught me the steps. When we met again, I couldn't believe it was really you. It felt like a dream. To think I would meet you like that, on the night before you shipped out. That out of all the men in the world, you'd be the one Steve went out of the way to save. That even after everything, you could still be here now, in this time and this place… it feels like fate." Her fingers dug into his jacket, unable to split the seams but doing their best. The soldier should stop her. This was high-grade material she was pawing at, but there were a lot of things he should've been doing and only one thing he wanted to do. "But that's stupid, isn't it? I don't believe in fate. That's just fairy tale stuff… like the stories my mom used to tell me."

She shivered. It was warm out so she couldn't be cold. The soldier tightened his hold on her anyway.

"Do you remember that night?" She asked, knowing the answer. "When we sat under the stars and we talked about the war… you comforted me… that's when we kissed for the first time, and I knew I didn't care about going home anymore. My life, my home, my theories, none of it mattered if I couldn't have you. I just want you."

Her body convulsed with uncontrollable sobs. There was nothing the soldier could do but hold her. He opened his mouth. There was something he needed to say. Something important. He didn't know what. It was there and gone like a dying flame. It left him with the old stand-by.

"J… J… J…"

God, it was there. He knew it was! It was somewhere in that pit he called a brain. Buried under HYDRA's orders and conditioning. They did this to him. He'd always known it, but he never cared. It never made his blood boil like this. It never could.

Now it did.

Because of her.

They were not getting her back no matter what.

"J…" he said one more time. If he kept saying it, maybe it would come to him. "J… J…"

Her eyes were dry. When she'd done that, he didn't know. He couldn't focus. If this were a mission, he'd be dead by now. He was wide open for an attack. She could stick a knife in him if she wanted. The sharp ache in his gut whenever she looked at him was bad enough. She pulled out of his arms, something that shouldn't have been so easy. She sat in his lap, practically straddling him. Their foreheads touched.

"Say it," she whispered, clutching his shoulders. "Please, say it."

"J… J…" He shook his head. It was getting too hot. He couldn't breathe.

"You can do it," she croaked. "I know you can. Say my name. Say it!"

He couldn't. Why didn't she understand that? He wanted to say it so badly, but it wasn't there. It just wasn't there.

But it was there! It had to be. He felt it on the tips of his fingers with every desperate grasp. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was her face. Her smile. Her voice was in his ear. Her touch on his skin.

And it was there.

Right there.

"Ja-"

But it was over.

The soldier didn't look. His stance didn't change beyond the curling of his fingers around her arms. He stayed stock still like that would fix this. Like they weren't so obscenely obvious in the gutter, though of course, they were.

How could he be so fucking stupid? He let his guard down. Stopped paying attention to his surroundings. He let himself fall under her spell and now his back was to the wall. There were three of them. Standing at attention. Guns drawn, aimed at him. They wouldn't go for her just yet. She was too relaxed. She hadn't noticed them yet. Not until his face changed.

"What?" She started to say more, but then someone took a step, sand crumbled underfoot, and her body seized.

"Well, would you look at that," Brock Rumlow said. The soldier knew his voice immediately. If a handler wasn't around, the soldier was to defer to him. He wanted to look up, but he hadn't been ordered to yet. "So this is where you've been hiding."

The woman was frozen in place. Her fear was palpable and so was her rage. She clutched his arm like she was desperate to hold him. Like she feared he'd vanish into thin air if she didn't.

"Stand up, soldier!"

The soldier stood. He made her let go first. She toppled and grunted in pain. His heart twisted.

Rumlow walked ahead of his men, looking the soldier up and down. When he glanced at Jane, her look was made of fire. The soldier wanted to smile, but he couldn't.

"You two have caused a hell of a stir," Rumlow said. "We intercepted a 911 call five minutes ago. Some old bat reported a man kidnapping a woman in broad daylight. That wouldn't be you, would it?"

The soldier should have looked away. He was being reprimanded. He was not supposed to make eye contact. No orders had been given. This was insubordination.

It felt so good.

"She's mine," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, so I've heard," Rumlow replied, rolling his eyes, "but is that really worth compromising the mission and almost letting dangerous fugitives go free. You could have messed up a very delicate operation with that little stunt."

"I don't care," the soldier said, clenching his fists. This was like lifting weights. "She's mine."

Rumlow glanced at his two men. Neither of them had names as far as the soldier was concerned and though they were both trained, they held their weapons like lifelines. Bad form all around.

"So what now?" Rumlow asked, throwing up his hands. "You gonna run off into the sunset together? Buy a nice little house in the country and have your 2.5 kids? You can't possibly think this is gonna end well for you. We have our orders, soldier. The only thing that matters is completing the mission and anything that gets in the way of that needs to be disposed of. Whether it's her," Rumlow pointed his gun at the woman, "-or you." He aimed at the soldier. "Look at where we are right now, soldier. You are outmanned and outgunned. We have guys all over the place. You may be hot shit, but you can't take us all."

"You sure?" The soldier asked.

There was sweat on his brow. The soldier could smell it. Just like he could smell the fear on the man to the left. He held his gun the most like an amateur. In all the time they'd been having this standoff, the barrel was never in the same place twice. The soldier eyed him and his partner. Their hearts were like galloping horses. He'd have to take them out first before their fingers flexed too far back. One bullet would be the end of them. And if she was hit-

She was on her feet, gun drawn. "Stay back. Don't you dare touch him!"

The soldier stumbled. This must be what surprise felt like. The woman's eyes were wild. She shook worse than Rumlow's goons, the gun jerking up and down, too tense to be of use. One of Rumlow's men switched gears and aimed at her. The woman flinched, but stood her ground, taking deep breaths to try and relax. It only made her shake harder.

Rumlow snorted. "You for real, Doc?"

"Shut up," the woman snapped, shoving the gun in his face. "I've heard enough from you. Not another word or I'll… I'll…"

"Shoot me?" Rumlow stepped forward. She stepped back. "I think that's the word you were looking for."

The soldier moved between them, glaring Rumlow down. His smile faded, but his stance didn't waver. He was too much of a pro for that. Too used to life or death situations. Since the day he joined HYDRA, he had an expiration date. That one head was perfectly expendable as long as the other two were waiting in the wings. They all knew that going in. It was a blessing far more than a curse. Gave them something to fight for and nothing to lose.

Nothing to fear.

"You see where this is going, right?" Rumlow folded his arms. "I shoot her, then you shoot me, then all my guys start shooting you, and where does that leave us? With a lot of men down and a boatload of paperwork. That's all your little love story amounts to. If you got away, we'd just keep coming after you. If you try to protect her, we'll kill her slower. You've got no options, soldier. Nothing but that van over by the glassware store. So you can come quietly now and get back to the mission… or you can let her pull that trigger and see what you find."

The soldier hated him. With all the breath and blood in his body, he hated Brock Rumlow. He wanted this fight. Wanted to shoot him, stab him, punch him. Wanted to make him feel what those men in the hallway and the babysitter felt. Wanted to make him regret even thinking about taking her away.

If he could only reach into Rumlow's chest, pull out his beating heart, that weak, shriveled up thing. Make him eat it as his life drained away with his blood. He could do it. Right here. Right now. Make him suffer. Make him pay.

He could do it.

Because she was his.

He could do it.

Because she was his!

He could do it.

Because she was his…

…but he was HYDRA's.

"I said stay back!"

Jane was crazy and she knew it. Crazy to think threatening trained killers could end with anything other than her becoming a human pincushion. The gun fit in her hands like a square peg in a round hole. Everything felt wrong, from the finger on the trigger (it was the middle one, right?) to her palm on the grip (was it supposed to hit her wrist like that?). She squeezed it hard, afraid it would slip and go off at her feet. The safety was off, or so she assumed. When she looked for it, she found a knob that wouldn't move. Maybe she was just too weak. Maybe she was already dead.

Rumlow's lackeys aimed at her, only out of obligation. She pushed in front of Bucky, making herself the immediate threat. They'd have to go through her to get to him and if nothing else, she'd be a decent meat shield. While the two men waited for orders, Rumlow studied her with bored eyes.

"I'm running out of patience," he said conversationally. "If you want to walk away, now's your chance. I suggest you take it."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jane spat, pointing the gun higher. "I mean it. I'll shoot."

"Then shoot," he said, leaning forward. His forehead touched the barrel. "Put your money where your mouth is, Doc, or stop wasting my time."

Jane gritted her teeth, forcing herself to feel nothing but rage. This monster had destroyed countless lives. He had kidnapped her and helped turn Bucky into a machine. Behind those eyes was nothing human, just the dying remains of a soul he'd sold long ago for power. This was the sort of man who would shoot his dog if his superiors ordered it. He would sell out a friend for the sake of a mission.

By shooting him now, she'd probably save dozens of more lives. Not to mention the tidal wave of catharsis it was bound to bring. Even if she didn't kill him, she could take a leg. Or his balls. Something he would miss. Something that would make him scream and beg for mercy. Then she could kick him into the dirt.

Jane let all that rage and hatred swirl in her stomach. Her hands shook harder, her heart thumping like a drum. She had to keep going. It had to be enough. She had to pull the trigger and wipe that horrible smirk off the face of the earth, even if she died trying.

She would not cry.

She would not cry, dammit…

A hand touched her shoulder. "Stop."

Jane turned her head, thinking for a moment that they'd been attacked from behind. This whole standoff was just a diversion so the real death squad could swoop in. Blue eyes stared back at her, fogged over and dark. Bucky's expression was broken, like a puppy kicked too many times. He reached over her shoulder, draped his hand over the gun, and pushed it down. He didn't use any strength, but Jane couldn't fight him. She could barely see him through the shimmering film over her vision.

"Stop," he said again, this time to Rumlow. "I'll come with you. Just leave her alone."

Rumlow snorted. "You're giving me terms?"

The soldier narrowed his eyes, but despite that, he didn't draw his gun. "You don't need her," he said. "You need me. Leave her alone."

The two men sighed audibly and lowered their weapons. A fierce glare from Rumlow put them in their place. They flanked him like secret service agents as he chuckled.

"That's the smartest thing I've heard all day," he said, gesturing with his pistol. "Walk forward slowly. No funny business."

Bucky started to move.

Jane threw out her arms. "No! You're not taking him."

"Oh my God…" Rumlow rubbed his forehead.

"Bucky, please." Jane pressed herself into his chest, her voice cracking as she pleaded. "Don't go with them. Let me help you."

"You can't help me," he said, pushing her away. "No one can."

"That's not true. We can get out of here. We can! You don't have to do what they say."

"This is all I know. It's all I've ever known."

"But what about the time before this?" Jane shook with emotion she could no longer hold back. "When we danced, you bought me chocolates and taught me how to shoot. When we would eat in the mess hall and… and Dugan would leave mashed potatoes on your seat when you got up. You and Steve would go over battle plans and you'd tell stories about Brooklyn. You were going to take me there to meet your family. Don't you remember? You have to remember!"

"Oh my God, this is making me gag," Rumlow grumbled to his men. "Soldier, hurry this up already. Before I lose my breakfast."

Jane wished she could pump him full of bullets until he was on the ground indistinguishable from a hunk of rotting Swiss cheese. Her brittle legs kept her in place. That and the slow, sad shake of Bucky's head.

"I can't," he croaked. "There's nothing else. Only this."

"No, Bucky. Please-"

He brought his hand to her lips, silencing her. Then he reached into his pocket. "Go home now. Live your life. Be happy and forget." He placed something small and metal onto her palm and closed her fingers over it. "It's so much easier to forget."

Before Jane could say another word, a gun cocked, and a barrel poked the back of her skull.

"Okay, Doc, you've had your fun," Rumlow growled. "Now I am out of patience. You have until the count of three to walk out of this alley or I am killing both of you right here, understood? One… two…"

Jane walked. She started fast then slowed her pace. No need to freak one of Rumlow's men out and trigger a bloodbath. She kept going, even as every bone in her body screamed at her to stop. The pain came from her mind, but her mind made it real. She was in agony, tears falling and face boiling. The gun, still cool in her hand, held the weight of a thousand rocks, but she couldn't put it down. She walked to the other end of the alley, the path seemed to stretch on forever.

Halfway there, she heard a voice. Rumlow giving orders into a phone. They had recovered the asset. They'd be back at the base in twenty. No, Doctor Foster was compromised. Not worth pursuing. Underneath that, she thought she heard a whisper.

"Go," it caressed her cheek. "Forget."

Clutching her engagement ring until it left a permanent mark, Jane kept going. She walked into the sunlight, out of the gates of hell without ever looking back. And when she did, she saw nothing but darkness.