Five hours into the drive west, the radio burst into life. May turned up the volume and Steve lurched towards the noise, as if the proximity to the machine might let him hear something his enhanced senses missed. It alternated between static and incoherent yelling, but he was able to make some of it out.

[We have a visual on the target. Engagi-uhk!]

[All units converge on his location now! I repeat all units, target sighted in the-]

[He's heading east, bearing-]

[I have a shot – the target is – shit, he's gone!]

[We need back-up now; we can't -]

[Strike team seventeen has abandoned their posts. I repeat, Strike seventeen, wait, eighteen too! They're running Sir, they're-]

[He's too fast! Oh god! I'll kill you, you son of a bi-] [fffffffffffssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhh] *click*

"What was that? Can you get it back?" Steve held tight as the truck reeled over the uneven road, wheels spinning over loose earth. May fiddled with the console, but all she got was empty air.

"It was the channel HYDRA used to co-ordinate their units. It's gone, but it doesn't matter." She said. "The Winter Soldier is drawing HYDRAY away. That's all we need to know."

"The diversion is useful." Natasha said, finding May's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "If they're sending their manpower east looking for him, we've got less to worry about."

"Less, but it doesn't mean we're safe." May shook her head. "HYDRA has far too many heads for us to assume they'll all be pointing in the wrong direction."

"Then we still need the radio." Steve said.

"It's not necessary." May replied.

"What if something else happens out there and they start coming this way? What if they catch Bucky? We need to know about it." Steve countered.

"We don't have the time." May's eyes narrowed, her mouth a thin line.

"But what if-" May jerked the wheel, swerving around a steep ditch. Steve smacked against the side of the seat.

"We are driving through enemy territory with no back up, no fire power and no plan beyond getting you out. Unless you want to waste the advantage the Winter Soldier is giving us by stopping to recalibrate the radio, I suggest you sit back and let us do our job." She snapped. The truck juddered as it swung to the side, throwing up gravel. A stone connected with the windscreen and a crack shot across the glass. May pushed on, glaring at the road ahead.

Steve sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. Was this it? Since he'd woken up, Bucky had been his one constant. Now he had to sit back and relax with strangers he didn't know or trust, all the while knowing Buck was out there, fighting alone? What if he got hurt? Last time, Steve had been there, watching his back. What if HYDRA got the drop on him again? What if they killed him?

What if they didn't?

Bucky should be in the truck, safe and protected, whilst Steve faced the world and its ugliness. That was what he was for. Captain America was made to protect people, and he was Captain America. He clenched his hands in fists. Steve Rogers was useless. Steve Rogers got his best friend killed. At this rate, Steve Rogers was going to let it happen again.

The truck felt more like a trap than transport. It crept into the edges of his mind, the growl of the engine and the crunch of tires on tarmac invading his thoughts. He wanted to get out. His hands twitched, needing to do something. He didn't know what. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go. Romanov's voice broke through the maddening monotony.

"He'll be fine." She said it like she hadn't insinuated one man could demolish an army. Steve bristled.

"You don't know that." He said.

"You don't know he won't." She turned to him, calm. "You heard the radio. They're already running scared, which in a place like this is half the battle." She looked at him like she was picking him apart. Steve swallowed. Was she watching him like that because he was acting wrong? Were these things Captain America should know?

"Is it?" He asked.

"These soldiers aren't the elite. They're farmers, petty criminals, people who fell through the cracks. Some of them want an excuse to cause trouble. Some of them wanted a place to belong. HYDRA offered them what they didn't have, and they took it. Maybe some of them found out too late what they were getting into and are still there because they're afraid. I don't know. The point I'm making is the kind of soldiers you'll find out here are exactly type who'll run when they hear out a monster is coming to get them."

"Don't call him that." Steve shot back, but there was no real fire behind it. His mind reeled. All the soldiers he and Bucky had killed, the people they were running from… they were afraid too? Were they only following orders? Romanov's eyebrows pinched together, her eyes narrowing.

"Don't even think about it. You did what you had to do. The men who came after you didn't give you a choice." She said. Steve shook his head, his hair falling across his forehead. He pushed it back with a sigh.

"Or we didn't give them a choice. If we'd known, tried talking to them, they might have-"

"Might have what? Might have backed down, let you go? You think there's any scenario where you could have walked away without bloodshed? No." Romanov folded her arms and lifted her chin, fire burning in her eyes. "Those soldiers got their orders, and they chose to follow them. That's what matters. They could have defected. They could have run away, but they didn't. They came at you to kill you, or capture you; they knew what the consequences could be. You are not responsible for that."

She kept her eye on him, and though he found himself unable to look away from her unflinching stare, his mind was elsewhere. It was full of images of bloody, faceless bodies; of Bucky on the ground with a boot on his throat. When Steve had woken up, alone and afraid, he'd killed the first two men he'd seen because they'd pointed their guns at him. He'd acted on instinct. What if they hadn't been a threat? What if they had doubts about HYDRA? What if they were fighting because they were too scared not too? But if they were going to take him back to HYDRA then he'd done the right thing. There was no way he could have known then, and no way he'd ever know now.

Is this what Steve Rogers would have done before? Would the perfect soldier have any doubts? Would Captain America have killed first and asked questions later? Was he the man they were trying to rescue?

"Okay. I can't take it back, and they made their own choices to come after us." He didn't believe it; the words tasted bitter on his tongue. Romanov nodded, like he'd passed a test he didn't know he was taking. The truck bounced again, the chassis shuddering and creaking as May pulled from the crumbling road to smoother asphalt.

"I'm glad to hear it." Steve's face betrayed him and she rolled her eyes. "I never said you had to like it Rogers, but you have acknowledge it. You can't take the weight of the entire world on your shoulders. No one can carry that; it doesn't matter how strong they are."

"I said alright. Leave it alone." He shot back at her. A flicker of hurt crossed her beautiful face, before being quickly hidden behind her mask of professional detachment.

"Fine." She shrugged, turning away from him to look out of the back window.

"ETA is three hours." May said from the front. Steve nodded to her, watching her eyes in the rear view mirror. She spared him one brief glance before turning back to road.

-(X)-

If the airfield filling the windscreen hadn't tipped him off as to the location of the rendezvous, the enormous black aeroplane sitting at the end of the runway was a dead giveaway. It dwarfed the run down looking control tower and one story terminal easily, its nose looming over the flat roof.

They pulled up at the razor wire topped gates, which looked so worn and weathered at first glance they should barely have moved. May pushed them open with one hand. Steve wondered at the detail of it. Was this something the Avengers made? Did they have secret, abandoned looking airstrips secreted around the world for situations like this? If they did, how could they afford to maintain it? Bucky had told him they were a team of six people, but this setup had to mean there was some sort of organisation involved.

Steve kept his eyes fixed on the plane as they drove closer, the colossal machine filling up more and more of the windscreen. He kept his breathing steady, but his heart pounded in his chest. His hands were sweating too. He catalogued the changes, the way his chest felt constricted and his senses seemed sharper than before. It was a familiar sensation, unpleasant and unwanted. This was fear.

A ramp in the underside of the plane opened, three figures striding down the steep slope as May pulled up. Steve didn't let himself falter as they got out and strode towards the bottom of the ramp, but each step he took chilled him, like frost leeching the warmth out of his skin. He kept trying to remember why. What was he afraid of? These were the Avengers, or one of them at least, a comrade he'd trusted with his life before. He wasn't going into a fight. So what could…? Oh.

Bucky said Steve died in a plane crash. He'd sustained massive blunt force trauma and drowned before freezing solid.

It must have left one hell of an impression. He could still feel the echo of it, even if he couldn't remember it. Was he afraid of flying before? Maybe he had enough good memories balance it out before they'd all been ripped away. If he had been scared, was it the kind of thing he told people? Somehow, he didn't think so. Steve grit his teeth, wiped his hands on his trousers and turned his attention to the group who'd come down to greet them.

The first person was a man with a crisp suit and short hair, his face drawn and his posture stiff. The next was a young woman with long brown hair who was looking him up and down appreciatively. Last stood a man with a goatee and oil in his eyebrows who was scanned him too, measuring him against unknown criteria. Steve stood a little straighter and the oily eyebrows rose. Steve stared back at him levelly. He didn't blink. Neither did his adversary.

The man in the suit opened his mouth to speak, but the goatee beat him to it.

"Good to have you back Capsicle!" He said cheerfully. "You know, when we tell you to take a vacation this isn't what we mean, right? But hey, it's good to know even a nice relaxing trip full of daring rescues and macho bonding, and you know, taking down hordes of your old enemies, hasn't removed the stick from your ass."

"Thank you Mr Stark." The man in the suit said wearily. The wind pulled at the bottom of his jacket. "It's good to see you safe Captain. Welcome to SHIELD. I'm Director Coulson; we'll be transporting you back to Stark Tower." Steve fought down the urge to bolt. This was SHIELD? The same SHIELD Bucky had warned him was infiltrated by HYDRA, rotten to the core and willing to wipe out half the world to reach their goals? And this Coulson was the head of it? He shot a glance at Romanov, but she didn't return it, staring impassively at the Director. Did she know something he didn't?

"There are so many things wrong with that." Stark said, crossing his arms. "Firstly, it's the Avengers Tower now, I'm not a narcissist. Or, you know, Pepper made me not be a – And you're walking away. Great. Thanks, fine, I'm used to it." Stark whipped around to the woman, who was watching him with a bemused expression. "I'm not used to it. I'm Tony Stark, people don't do that. Coulson. Hey, Coulson!"

The woman gaped at the two men, Coulson walking away with his head high and Stark dogging his steps, yammering at a mile a minute. She shook her head and took a step toward Steve, her hand outstretched.

"So, they're awful at introductions." She said wryly. "That was Phil Coulson, my boss, who is usually better at this, and Tony Stark, professional badass, personal annoyance. I'm Skye, resident hacker genius, and all round super spy." Steve shook her hand slowly, trying to judge the best way not to crush her delicate fingers. His hand dwarfed hers easily. She smiled and he wondered whether to believe her claim of being a spy. She seemed far different to Romanov and May.

"It's awesome to meet you, really." She continued, "I mean, you're the guy everyone learns about in class; if you want to be a good person, here's who you should want to be like, you know? And here I am, rescuing you. Take that traditional gender roles." She let go of his hand to punch at the air, looking at him expectantly.

"I don't understand a word of what you just said." Steve attempted a smile, trying for a cheery look. Skye didn't seem convinced, her face falling. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the asphalt.

"I guess that makes sense. You finally got all caught up on everything and HYDRA smushes your brain. That sort of thing sets you back." She shuffled awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "We should get inside so we can get going. We're taking a break from saving the world right now, but there are always more bad guys. Come on up, I'll show you to your room."

"Thank you." Steve followed her up, flanked by his two guardian agents. The bus was cavernous on the inside and he suppressed a shiver. The gunmetal grey hold was cold. None of the women seemed to notice. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flicker of movement, one shadow ducking into some darker corner out of sight. Was it another Avenger? He peered into the darkness for a moment, but nothing else moved.

May and Romanov stayed in the hold whilst he followed Skye upstairs, catching a glimpse of a furnished area. They didn't get that far. She opened the door to an internal room, gesturing for him to go ahead. He stepped inside, taking in the bare décor, metal table, metal chairs and lack of windows. He couldn't remember being in a cell, but this was what he imagined one looking like. The bunker in Ukraine had seemed friendlier. Skye stayed outside with her hand on the door.

"You'll need to wait in here. Once we're in the clear airspace wise, one of us will come interview you. The guys are probably all drawing straws at the moment. They're like kids sometimes. Coulson will be the one to do it though. He might overrule the straw drawing, or rig it so he wins anyway to annoy the others. Either way, have a seat and we'll be with you shortly. If there's anything you need, I can get you some food or water, or a coke or something?" She raised an eyebrow. Steve shrugged. "Diet coke?" she tried.

"Nothing right now." He said. This must be a formality. For all they knew, he could have some latent HYDRA programming. But for all he knew, these people might be HYDRA themselves. No, Bucky said he could trust them. This had to be a different SHIELD. Bucky would never hand him over to HYDRA.

"Okay. If you need something later, there's a camera and a mic in the room, so ask the ceiling and we'll do our best waiter and waitress impressions." She smiled at him, then shut the door. It locked with a sharp click. Steve shivered, the chill feeling seeping under his skin. Even the air felt heavy, like he was swimming in it.

This was fine. It'd all be over soon. These people were going to help. He pulled out a chair and sat down, running his hands over his arms. He didn't feel any better. He gave up after a minute, looked hopelessly around the empty room, then put his head in his hands.

"Bucky, I hope you're doing better than I am."

Skye shut the door, feeling the light shudder as the lock fell into place inside the handle.

"Stand down." Coulson's voice was clear in her ear piece, and across the plane, everyone acknowledged the order. Skye closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. Nothing had happened. It was a good sign. If there was any programming to be triggered, this kind of situation should be at the top of the list – infiltrate an enemy building, disable agents inside, move on to next objective. Yet here he was, in the middle of a SHIELD base, being escorted by a woman he could easily overpower, who had left her back-up downstairs, and he hadn't made a move. Everything was fine. She waited for her heart to slow down.

She almost jumped out of her skin when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

"Ah!" Skye whipped around, her hand drawn back to punch out whoever it was. She stopped when she saw Clint leaning back, his crutches under his elbows, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Whoa, sorry!" He gave her a sheepish smile. "I didn't think you'd be so jumpy." Skye dropped her arm, rolling her eyes.

"You work with the Black Widow." She mouthed Natasha's codename like it was a summoning spell, meant to call up a fiery headed demon if spoken aloud. Clint snorted, his face going red as he tried not to laugh. "Hey! It's a high standard I don't have to reach. I'm not really an agent agent. And anyway, what was that for?"

"To remind you we're due in the command centre. And because it was funny." He teased. Skye swatted him across the forearm. Clint pulled his arm back in mock outrage.

"Hey! How is it you won't even say my partner's codename, but me you're allowed to hit?" He pointed down at his leg, shaking his foot in her direction. "And I'm injured!" He shook his foot harder. "Injured!"

"Hop-along, you'll pop your stitches if you keep that up." Tony strolled toward them, eyeing the door warily. "Are you sure that'll hold him if he tries to get out? It's not one of my designs." He mused. Skye shrugged.

"It's made of a silicone carbide-coated Vibranium alloy. It doesn't look like much, but it was designed with people like him in mind." She faltered. "Not specifically like him. We didn't build a room just for amnesiac super soldiers, but it's handy now we've got one. I'm not saying this right."

"It's fine," Clint waved her off. She gave him a grateful smile.

"It's flawed." Tony said, frowning at the external wall. Clint's face fell into a stony scowl. "The surrounding structural reinforcement isn't made of the same alloy. The weight distribution of the plane would be all wrong otherwise. It'll keep him in check for now, but if he wants out, Capsicle could tear the whole plane apart." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag. "Pistachio?"

Clint grabbed a fistful without looking, stuffing them into his pocket and grumbling to himself about people who couldn't be pleased. Skye looked tempted, but a voice in their ear pieces stopped her.

"We're preparing for take-off. Our ETA to New York will be eight hours. Make your way to the command centre for debriefing." Coulson intoned. Tony snorted.

"Come on Agents, you heard the man. Mush!" He waved them on ahead. Clint rolled his eyes and shuffled off, followed by Skye, who internally debated either offering Clint her arm in assistance or kicking his crutch out from under him.

Tony turned his attention back to the room, his head full of structural calculations and welding details. One faulty seal would be all it would take for a man of Cap's abilities to tear the place apart, regardless of how the integrity of the building materials. He needed to stay contained until they got to the Tower, where there were special measures in place already.

Until then, if anyone made noise about Cap coming out earlier for good behaviour, he'd shut them down. There had been something unsettling about Cap which he couldn't place. Given what Natasha had said about his mind being wiped, maybe he should have expected it, but Cap was just …blank. His face was a façade, hiding the void where the man who'd become his friend should be.

Whoever was in that room wasn't coming out, because they weren't Captain America, and they sure as hell weren't Steve Rogers either.

The plane rumbled underneath his feet, shaking him from his thoughts. With one last, distrustful glance at the metal room, he walked away.

Well that was a whirlwind few months. I'll spare you the details - let's just say life got wild, writing got put aside and I'm trying to get back on the horse. On a related note, horses hate me. Make of that what you will.

To you the reader, old or new, thanks for sticking with me so far. You're the best. If you loved it, hated it, were completely indifferent, I'd love to hear from you.