Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

…a woman was screaming.

It was a terrible high-pitched wailing that jarred his head, couldn’t allow him to focus on anything of the dream that he had been trying to enjoy before. It went on and on, but the plain landscape was being swept with clouds of blue that shot lightning from cloud-to-cloud. It came with thunder and the low buzzing like an approaching swarm of bees.

Still the sound of a woman screaming continued. It was incomprehensible what would cause such pain or even how one lungful could continue for so long. He tried to tune it out but had no control over the dream to do so, forcing him to be subjected to the continued wailing.

Suddenly words blasted him from all sides, the closing of the threatening blue thunderclouds alarming and jarring.

“Not my baby! Don’t take my baby away!”

A woman stood amid the boiling clouds, her dark hair whipping about her face, her mouth opened in both a scream and forming the words that were being yelled out to him. She was beautiful, he thought, olive skin and tall of stature. The clouds partially obscured her, but even he could see that she carried a moving bundle of cloth.

Despite the confusion of the scene, he felt an overwhelming joy too. A baby! What a wonderful occasion regardless of the screaming of her voice, the crack of thunder and the flash of lightening between the clouds. Slowly, he reached out his hands to take the bundle from her, to offer aide in the only way that he could. His hands shook, more so when the lightning lashed out at him.

Tears streamed down her face, and she offered him the bundle. It squirmed and an infant’s cry sounded, and his joy soared when its weight seemed to strengthen his arms. He pulled the wrapped creature to his chest, blinking when the woman was struck and dissolved by the lightning. The wind calmed, the blue clouds rolled like a sea but without the previous savagery.

He reached up and pulled open the cloth to reveal the infant. Only, there was no child, and he instead found himself holding a glowing blue cube. The Tesseract, his helpful brain supplied him.

‘You have yet to earn my approval.’

He folded up the cloth around the Cosmic Cube, pulling it to his chest and looking the way of the fleeing clouds. He wanted to follow but was rooted in the spot he was standing. He couldn’t move his feet no matter how much he applied himself to the task and almost all the clouds had run off. He knew he needed to follow them but still was unable to.

He tried and tried and tried, never releasing his hold on the bundle in his arms. He pulled it closer to his chest and persisted. When still nothing could be done to actually move, he lowered his head and whispered to the bundle, ‘help me.’

‘Just once.’

Suddenly he could move as if the very air around him had yielded from holding him still. Not only could he move, but he realized in the next second that he could wake up.

Steve found his eyes snapping open, staring up at a familiar ceiling in a familiar room with all the familiar sounds, smells and tastes creeping along his senses. For once, he didn’t immediately feel the urge to fall right back asleep, to preserve the little strength he was allowed to maintain. He blinked his eyes rapidly and then found his head turning to regard a young woman standing at the side of his prison, the table in which he had spent the last months strapped to.

He didn’t know her, hadn’t seen her for any of the bloodletting that was by now routine. Her dark hair was curled and pinned to her head, her uniform plainly obvious as that of a nurse for HYDRA based on the glaring symbol attached at her shirt collar. She wore a plain beige sweater and she carried a chart with many papers on it, tucked it close to her breast ad half of it covered in the fold of her sweater. Her dark eyes stared down at him with a determined resignation, plain lips twisting and frowning with conflict.

Above, the chains hanging from the ceiling shifted but the hydra did not come down. He knew it was observing quietly, keeping small and obfuscated.

The young woman fished in her pockets and pulled out a small bag, opening it and then taking out a lump of brown sugar. She offered it to him, pressed it to his lips until he took it into his mouth and began to suck on it. The sugar had been affected by moisture, but it tasted heavenly; Steve couldn’t recall the last time he had been awake enough to enjoy any type of food.

As he sucked on sugar, she checked his vitals, scribbling on her chart. Behind her through the window, a technician paused to observe before continuing on as if nothing were amiss. All was in order.

Steve watched her as she set her chart upon his chest, her dark eyes filling with tears as she reached down and began to work the levers to release the restraints across his chest, his legs, his ankles and wrists. There was a quiet slide and grind of the heavy webbing fabric and the gentle clink of metal as she worked, and even with the stream of tears, she worked with a determination that caused him to glance towards the ceiling to ascertain if the hydra was about to chase her off.

The hydra emerged slowly, creeping to the edge of its hovel and then reached out with long tentacles to grasp the chains. It moved quietly but also methodically, moving its bulk in a way that suggested that it was hunting, moving in for the kill. It slid down the chains, keeping them steady with other tentacles so that they didn’t sway or contact one another. Soundless, the hydra eased to the floor and approached.

“…stop…”

“Quiet,” the nurse said, her voice heavy with emotion. She had almost freed him.

“The hydra is…” Steve started.

“Edwin wouldn’t hurt me,” she replied tersely. It was only then that she looked up and regarded the hydra, which froze at the sound of the name. “I know you’re in there, that your research was thrown away, that you live this life now.” She drew herself up to her full height, jerking the remaining strap and letting it fall to the floor. “I’ve done my part, Edwin. It’s time you did yours.”

Slowly, Steve sat up, the intense rush of lightheadedness assaulting him. The clipboard was picked up from his waist where it had fallen, but this novelty was one he couldn’t ignore: freedom. His hands shook and his feet felt as if pins and needles were assaulting up to his calves. He still set his hands to the table in which he lay and slid from its surface to take his feet for the first time in over three months. He nearly collapsed, but he was watching the hydra – his only friend in these dark times – observe him. When would it strike…

“Come on, pal, you and I need to get out of here,” Steve said carefully. He looked over at the nurse who was offering him another lump of sugar. He took it, popping it into his mouth and finding strength from the rapid rush of energy. “Why are you doing this?”

The nurse whose name he didn’t even know reached up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of her uniform and pulled it apart to reveal purple and yellowing bruises on her throat and creeping down below her uniform. “This is not a world to raise a child up in.”

Her simple explanation stirred the hydra from where it had remained frozen, and it approached her, lifting a single thick tentacle to stroke the bruises. It then raised that same tentacle to stroke her cheek with a fondness he had never seen displayed for anyone but him. She leaned into the contact even as she rebuttoned her uniform and smoothed her sweater into place.

“You have a ten minute window before the next guard check. The technicians are having a meeting regarding progress reports, but they will be done soon,” she said before handing him the bag of sugar. “Eat that. You will need all of your strength.”

Steve took the small bag with its dwindling lumps of sugar and began to quickly eat them. He began to take stock of his room, but it was reinforced and aside from the hole in the roof and a drain in the floor, there was only one way in and out of this room. He could perhaps make it to the antechamber before the video surveillance would begin, and his break out would be known. That was assuming the hydra allowed him anywhere close to the door.

He looked over at the hydra who had sidled up to the nurse and was hugging her full body, which might have been an amusing sight if she hadn’t been crying silently. She, for her part, was pulling papers off of the clip board and handing them to the hydra. He immediately could tell they were blue prints.

He had to sit on the edge of the table, already tired. “I’m not going to make it far. I haven’t been given my allotted hour of exercise in the last while. What’s your name, ma’am?”

“You don’t need to know it. The less you know of me, the better for my survival,” she said quickly, wiping at tears. “Edwin will take you where you need to go.”

“Neither of us have weapons,” Steve pointed out softly.

“You won’t need them for your escape, not right away,” the nurse said. “You’ll be swimming.”

“A tad cold for an outdoor adventure,” he murmured. He could barely maintain his body temperature as it was.

She ignored him and pointed to a big open room on the blue print. “Here. You must deliver him here in two hours,” she said but clearly wasn’t talking to him. “It’s the only way.”

“What’s there?”

“The betrayer,” the nurse replied. “Margaret says that you have to be there at the right time for any chance of escape.”

Steve froze in mid-motion of bringing another lump of sugar to his lips. “Peggy,” he breathed and couldn’t help the smile on his lips. Of course, she would have a plan, but his eyes drifted to the blue print, to the large room and he felt a hollowing of his guts. The betrayer would no doubt be Rumlow, and as much as he didn’t want to be anywhere close to the man, he understood the necessity of it. That all hinged on the idea that Rumlow had experienced a considerable change of heart when it came to working with HYDRA.

“Peggy is coming too,” Steve finally asked. “Her and… Sinthea?”

The nurse looked at him and could only shrug her shoulders. “She said she had something arranged, but she gave no details.”

“I’m not leaving without her,” he replied forcefully.

“This war is worth more than any one of us.” The nurse began to pry the hydra’s tentacles off of her. “You have to go. Time is not on your side.”

“I don’t know where I’m going,” Steve said and reached to take the blue prints. However, the hydra’s tentacles tightened on it, crumpling the paper up and then tucking it underneath its bulk. “Pal…”

“Edwin knows. He’ll get you to where you need to go. Through the pipes is the only way,” the nurse murmured fondly.

Steve looked at the hydra, wondering who Edwin was. “How will Edwin know?”

“He was once an engineer. He planned and built the underground water base where you found him with the others. He apprenticed with the engineer corps regiment that built this place. He knows where to go.” She reached out and touched the hydra gently before stepping away. “You must go.”

He felt the weight of the task ahead of him even as his expression hardened and he slid from where he had been sitting. His legs felt like jelly, but he locked his knees and began to shuffle woodenly towards the entrance of his cell. The nurse stepped in front of him and pressed the code to open the door, the glass sliding out of their way.

He looked back at the hydra who hadn’t moved and then offered a hand back to the sad, sorry creature. “Come on, pal, we have a prison break to enact. If nothing else, we’ll be a distraction.”

The hydra seemed to seriously consider the task ahead of it, shrinking in on itself in what he had come to know as the ‘thinking’ pose. It meant that the different consciousnesses were communicating among themselves, but it took less time than usual for large scale decisions. The hydra seemed to shrink towards the floor, looking like a lumpy flesh coloured pancake.

It began to move its tentacles in an undulation that moved it forward. This was clearly ‘stealth mode’, and it crawled its way to the door and then over the threshold.

The nurse sank to the floor and began to weep softly.

Steve reached out and touched her on the shoulder. “Come with us,” he murmured.

“Go. I have my promises to keep,” she said through her tears.

He nodded and decided to honour her wishes as he stepped over the threshold on wobbly legs and headed for the center of the labs, looking around for a way out. It was difficult to concentrate but better than it had been in a good while, and he fought with the constant fog of his mind. He stepped over to a massive grate in the middle of the floor where the hydra was poking around.

There was the sound of water subtly but also many pipes running the under it. Together, he and the hydra levered it open enough that he could slip down under the floor. He almost used all of his renewed energy to keep it open enough for the hydra to slip in with him.

Above them, the nurse who wouldn’t give her name walked over the grate with not a single downward glance.

Steve moved through the tight space awkwardly, sliding over smaller pipes as the hydra seemed much more suited to this life of squeezing through tight spaces. They had to move two rooms over slowly, he having the most difficulty finding spaces large enough to crawl along as pipes criss-crossed each other. It was only then that they found an access panel to the largest pipe here.

The hydra had to open it as he was winded and dizzy. When it did, the putrid smell that emerged almost dropped Steve back into unconsciousness. He made a supreme effort not to cough or gag even as he elevated himself to peer inside.

That was a mistake if there ever was one. The pipe was about half full, moving with a subtle current, but it was clear that it was a sewer drainage system. It had to be one of the main pipes given how much he could hear draining into it, and his eyes watered even as he knew the only decision to make. He slipped inside and gagged as urine, feces and anything else hit and soaked him.

The hydra entered after him, pulling the access door closed behind them. He was able to set his feet down and stand, but they were now cast in absolute darkness with the panel closed. It was then he heard the sudden sound of the alarms.

The guards had made their rounds.

Timothy Dugan raised his head from his work of sweeping up the metal shavings at the sudden blare of the alarm overhead. He twisted around slowly to regard the state of the guards who all seemed as unaware of the reason for the alarm as the milling workers, and he knew something had happened on a scale that required the entire facility on alert.

He looked down at the shavings and continued to sweep, moving them towards the junk barrel, his moustache twitching back and forth over his lower lip. His eyes were constantly on the move, watching as the workers were ordered back to work. He stooped so that he could sweep the shavings into a dustpan in order to dump them into the junk barrel.

His eyes shifted to the barrel next to it, old oil and chemical liquids having been kept. “Is that the signal?”

There was no reply.

Dugan flicked his eyes around again, looking for signs of Jones on the floor. He knew that the guards had specifically put them together the three days to see if they would communicate at all, but Gabe had steadfastly ignored him. The guy hadn’t even made eye contact on those extreme few occasions when they had been in sight of each other, and he tried not to take offense. He had taken his beating about the key just as everyone else possibly involved had, and he knew he had put Jones in a tough spot.

The other Commando hadn’t given up the key, and for that, there was hope. Right now, that’s all he could cling to in order to get through the day-to-day.

So now he had to decide whether or not this alarm was the signal, to get his own plan rolling. He eased away from the barrel, heading over to another section of the workshop to continue his sweeping, and he began to gather up the wood dust from one of the saws. He emptied the fabric gather bag into a barrel nearby, catching a handful.

The guards were making rounds, forcing workers back to their task. Between some supply crates, he caught sight of Jones with a group of three other workers at the back-breaking work of transporting sheet metal. Just for a single moment, Gabe looked his way and met his gaze and there was a subtle nod of the head which he never thought to see again from the other man.

Gabriel Jones was going to fight.

Timothy shifted and rubbed his hands together, the saw dust trapped against his palms. Back and forth, he rubbed quickly, constantly on alert that a guard might spot him. The fine dust agitated his hands but that friction allowed him to apply himself, struggling for concentration. This was very new for him; for the longest time, he didn’t think he had any special abilities.

Rubbing his hands together faster, he applied himself until smoke began to rise from the dust, and he dropped it into the barrel. They settled with the rest of the wood and metal shavings, but it was the wood that began to smoke. Soon a small flame jumped up, spreading quickly, and Dugan eased away to return to his task of sweeping.

He moved away as the smoke began to rise from the barrel, sweeping as he went. He shifted in the direction of Jones who was struggling with the sheet metal. He set the broom aside and suddenly moved in to shoulder it with the group. “Easy, fellas, we got this.”

Jones shot him a scathing look and in the process, seemed to notice the smoke. He grinned and they had no other choice but to shuffle to set the metal with the other sheets under the most bare-bones of the Valkyries on the construction line. It took the group of them to lay the metal down flat on the work bench, and they were in the process of setting one to the machine that would cut the sheets into their appropriate shape.

“Fire! FIRE!”

Several guards turned to the cry and there was indeed a fire burning merrily in the barrel. Dugan narrowed his eyes and thinned his lips, feeling a vein protrude from his forehead as he focused everything that he had. Find the rest of yourself.

The fire sputtered and snapped, sending sparks up into the air. It gave a cough, ejecting more embers that hit the floor and suddenly the rest of the dust that hadn’t entirely been cleaned up caught and began to spread the flames. It moved rapidly across the cement floors, climbing up the saw horses at an alarming rate. So fast, no one had been able to get to the barrel with a bucket of water fast enough.

He looked down at the oil smeared on his clothing and began to feel warm, too warm. Suddenly the oil barrel gave a sizzling sound and burst into violent flames. Fire and noxious fumes began to spill out of the oil barrel, filling the air but more than that, the flames hit the floor and caught on old residue. It wasn’t much to work with, but it spread in a burst across the floor.

Dugan grabbed Jones by the elbow, pulling the other Commando close to him. “We gotta go.”

Gabe took one look at the two rapidly spreading fires and then at him, jaw working before nodding. Yet, Jones didn’t readily leave with him but looked at the other prisoners of war and began to speak to them in a language he thought might be Czech. The men listened, their expressions moving from worried exhaustion to cautious hope.

He eased away from the work station they were at as the guards began to shout orders for evacuation of the more precious tools and equipment to the far side of the room. Some of it was bolted to the floor and required tools and low beds to move them.

Some of the prisoners had began to grab buckets to douse the flames, but with the oil running so quickly and hot, many shied away from the high potential to be burned; their guards screamed orders and curses at them. He raced with his new small team and picked up some tools to begin to working to lift some equipment.

Two of the Czechs ignored that possibility and grabbed tools with the express purpose of attacking their guards who were in the process of yelling. Gun shots suddenly were fired into a group of cowed prisoners and all hell began to break loose.

To his shock, Jones began to shout in different languages, most of which he couldn’t identify from the next. It caused him great confusion as Jones had only spoke of knowing some German, French and of course English. It was the English that he caught. “Captain America is free. It’s time to fight for freedom!”

Timothy grabbed Jones by the arm and shook the other man. “How do you know that?”

“I don’t. It’s the only explanation for a facility wide alarm,” Gabe replied. “What else could it be?”

He looked around at the sudden rioting as many men seemed to break from their fear-based stupored state and began to grab anything to attack their guards. The mob mentality took root so easily in tired frightened minds that many clustered together and began to take out anyone who wasn’t a worker. Even the engineers – many of them conscripts to HYDRA regime – joined in.

“Cap’s free,” he mumbled, tears pricking his eyes. There were, of course, other explanations, but he wanted so badly to believe and so he did. “Cap’s fucking free, and we’re getting out of here. The sparks happened!”

Gabe nodded and seemed to also come alive, and he wondered if they shared the same kind of expression. There was hope, small and slight but there was hope. “We need to incite more of a mob outside of the work areas. We need to open the cells.”

Timothy knew more pressing matters were on the horizon. “We need to get to wherever you hid that key.”

“My cell. What’s it a key to?”

They began to move towards the swarm of mob, of the workers that were beating open the doors and spilling out into the halls. They were armed only with the weapons of the shop and those few HYDRA weapons that they had picked up from the dead guards. He grabbed a wrench and screwdriver as they began to wade into the yelling crowd.

“It’s the key to Rumlow’s shackles,” he called back.

Gabe suddenly stopped. “What?”

“Come on, we can’t stop here. We need that key,” Dugan said, nodding his head.

“No,” Jones replied coldly. “No, we aren’t letting him go. He deserves his fate.”

“I know and I agree,” Dugan said. He meant the words, but he knew that this plan required Rumlow’s assistance and the only way that was happening was on the promise of freeing the man. “He has to transport us all out of here, Gabe. Without him, we are stuck in the Austrian Alps with no equipment, no clothes but this and nothing to eat. He’ll send us somewhere else.”

“Why would you trusting him to put us anywhere safe?” Gabe suddenly accused, looking angry even as they began to hustle again. There was strength in numbers after all.

Dugan gritted his teeth. “Because I have to right now. He said he would transport us, and I need to believe in that more than I need to trust him.”

“He deserves to eat shit,” Gabe snarled.

“Oh believe me, he gets enough of that,” Dugan called back. “He lives in his own filth for a week at a time. He lives in this tube that allows him to conduct his power like he’s a human battery, and if he acts out, the Skull electrocutes him.”

They pushed passed a small mob of men curb stomping a hapless guard, ignoring the slippery patches of blood on the floor and having to step over fallen bodies, both HYDRA guards and prisoners alike.

“And why are we setting him free,” Gabe asked as they had to pause due to a bottleneck at one of the doors between the cell blocks.

“Because the shackles he has limits his powers,” he said before hollering encouragement at the prisoners fighting to rip the door off. There was a scream of metal ahead of them. He looked back at Gabe, setting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “He has to think we’re setting him free or he won’t help.”

Jones frowned but nodded before he watched as the other Commando bent and gestured to a rats hurrying out of the fray. His eyes widened as the creature reluctantly came over and Gabe picked the dirty bugger up and began to communicate with it. The rat squealed and squirmed, and Gabe replied in turn with similar sounds and everyone who wasn’t engaged either laughed or stared.

After a full minute of rat-speak, Gabe put the rat back on the floor and it ran off between feet to the nearest cell and disappeared. The other Commando looked at him. “He’s going to tell the others to get the key.”

“How… did you learn to do that?” He was still straining to see where the rat went.

“Is there anything better to learn in prison camp?”

“Crochet?” Dugan shrugged then grinned.

The mob had broken through the door and was swarming into the next cell block, greeted by the shrieking of men and the startled orders to guards rallying themselves. Those POWs locked in their cells banged on their cell bars, howling like a band of rabid monkeys. They were pressed in by all of those behind them, surging with energy as guards tried to subdue them but seemed overwhelmed with the vast numbers. Men began to split off to venture down other halls leading from the cell blocks, overwhelming the guards stations, which had not seen an attack in many, many months and were clearly understaffed.

Gabe grabbed his arm and jerked him through the mob to travel on the sides closest to the cell doors. Most were being opened by other prisoners who had lifted the keys off of the bodies of the dead guards. Others might be using the opportunity to hang back or loot.

Dugan hollered orders and encouragement as they moved with the mob that was only building in momentum. It was the first taste of potential freedom that any of them had experienced in so long, and with Jones also shouting in various languages informing everyone of the fact that Captain America was free, the shadows of men came alive.

Some, of course, were too sick, too injured and too shell-shocked to join in, lingering in their cells as broken men. Others literally hadn’t the energy to participate. Months of starvation couldn’t even allow them a burst of adrenaline, so they lay as they were.

Dugan kept looking for signs of the other Commandoes, expecting that they had to be here. Morita, Falsworth, Barnes had to be in these blocks, right? He knew that Dernier had passed months back, and he suddenly wondered if Jones knew. The pair had been thick as thieves, but right now, he couldn’t bear to ask. They needed the momentum.

For that, he felt awful. However, mitigating distraction was something that he had to do.

Instead, they moved with the mob, and he almost overshot the moment when Jones dipped into an open cell door. There was literally nothing in it, not even a blanket for warmth. It looked exactly like his cell since they had moved the key. He pushed inside the small space and looked around expectantly.

Four black rats scurried into the cell, standing on their hind legs and bobbing their heads. He watched in amazement as Jones directed them, and they took off like a well oiled force. It took only a few minutes for them to return dragging one of the most valuable objects in the facility. They handed it off without a fuss and looked at Jones for direction.

Gabe picked up the key and looked contemplative, even a touch rebellious.

Dugan could practically read the other Commandoes’ thoughts. “We need him to have any chance of helping Steve.”

That seemed to draw Jones out of the idea of getting rid of the key. Instead, his friend from better times slapped a hand against a panted leg and the three of the rats raced up the material to come and perch on Jones’ shoulder. The fourth turned and fled up the bank of cells, drawing other curious hungry rats in until a second mob began to form.

“…what did you do?”

“I’m told them there was more food for them if they would scout ahead,” Jones replied, looking seriously at him as if he might laugh. “This is what I can bring back to the platoon. I speak in Tongues.”

“You are going to unite this rag-tag group,” Dugan remarked before turning to head to the cell door. He pulled out the now dirty handkerchief that Agent Carter had given to him and Rumlow had ensured that he had kept. “We all have something more to bring. Let’s give ‘em Hell.”

Jones nodded grimly and together they rejoined the mob growing in the halls.

“Tell them to follow me, Jones. I know where the escape room is,” Dugan hollered, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“I told you it would work,” Arnim Zola said smugly, gesturing to the hulking man standing at attention before the Red Skull.

“Very good, Doctor. Very good. If your technique can work on Captain America’s ally, we can finally have some long-term control over the others,” the Skull replied, walking around the shirtless man as if appraising a horse for future purchase.

James Falsworth shifted in his chains, glancing down to where they connected and held him fast to the floor. He was unhappy to be here, aware that his presence couldn’t mean anything good, especially where Bucky Barnes was concerned. The other Commando stood loose and easy, face blank of any emotion, which might have been startling if he hadn’t been watching it happen more and more over the last few weeks.

His once comrade was again whole, a new metal arm attached to the left side of Barnes’ body. It was so shiny and chrome that he knew that Zola had spent a long time creating it specifically for this moment, to show off to the Skull after so long shoved to the side. The smooth metal plates were able to move, to lock into place, and he had seen Barnes tear the door right off of one of their cells with little apparent effort. That’s probably the last thing that Two Tees had seen before the metal door had been wielded like a weapon to crush the babbling man’s skull.

That had been last week.

Even though they had been allowed to continue residing in a cell together, it had begun to feel more and more like he was bedding down with a tiger, never entirely knowing when Barnes might strike. Their small cell block was now simply him and Barnes, and now he had to wonder if his number was up.

Falsworth shifted in the chains that held him fast to the floor, the shackles at his wrists and ankles tight enough to be uncomfortable even with hardening his skin. He wanted to make as little motion as possible, but he also knew that didn’t matter. Whatever he was here for, it was not good for his health.

“How did you come up with such a smooth design for this arm?” The Skull was examining Barnes’ metal fingers closely, clearly noting the detail.

“A collaborative effort between myself and the Russians,” Zola said, preening quietly. “It is fully functional, though an external power supply can be attached to increase its potency.”

“The nerves?”

“Attached through the servos. We believe he has full sensation and proprioception, though more experimentation is necessary,” Zola murmured, glancing over at where he was standing. “The Russians have been working with building up and breaking down their elite soldiers since the beginning of the war. We used that as a basis for making him compliant.”

Finally, the Skull turned towards him, releasing Barnes’ metal hand. “And he will act on orders?”

“Yes, tests so far have been positive.”

“And you have brought this one here for demonstration, I take it,” the Red Skull smiled at him, but it was cold and predatory.

Zola glanced at him, frowning slightly. “This is one of his comrades, and he has unique abilities himself. I brought him to show them and ask that I have permission to start the mental reassignment process on him.”

The Red Skull sniffed as if disappointed. “What abilities did our dear Madame Hydra manage in this one?”

“He can harden and soften his skin,” Zola reported.

“Ah yes, I recall you mentioning that some time ago,” the Red Skull approached, standing in front of him and appraising his ruddy appearance. He shifted and stood as tall at his chains would allow him, setting his jaw and flaring his nostrils in challenge. “A test is necessary, Doctor.”

Falsworth wanted to make a smart comment, but he decided against it last second. Instead, he threw his eyes to Barnes who still stood rooted and staring straight ahead, either unaware or uncaring of their current predicament. His friend looked everything the perfect soldier, ready to perform any order and that more than anything frightened him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola said.

“Remove his name,” the Skull interjected. “Names come with associations, and he is better without any.”

“Leave him alone,” Falsworth snarled softly. “You’ve done enough.”

Neither the Skull or Zola paid him any mind, and he drew himself up higher, hardening his skin along his arms, back and throat. The Skull was moving in front of Barnes, looking the other man dead in the eye. “Break his bones.”

Slowly, the other Commando turned cold eyes to regard him. “Yes sir,” came a voice that was both James and nothing like him.

Monty watched as Barnes turned to face him, walking with slow predatory intent. He had seen that walk before, and it took everything that he was to hold his ground and not curl into a ball close to the floor. Instead, he faced his comrade with a set expression and hardened the skin down his legs and face, aware that there would be no mercy right now. He had seen the damage that metal arm could inflict.

“James, old boy, you don’t have to do this,” he murmured, uncaring how the Skull chuckled. Zola looked on unhappily, as if an opportunity was being stolen. “Stand down, Sergeant.”

Barnes came on regardless, closing the distance without hurry, and it was to build the suspense of the moment. The first punch came from the right hand, one he knew to be the other man’s dominant hand. It struck his cheek, bouncing off with no damage to him and probably pain to Barnes. Then the left hand swung up, catching him in the sternum and lifting him off of his feet so he was scrambling to get them back under him.

As he attempted to balance on the balls of his feet like a boxer, Barnes struck him hard across the face, snapping his head to the side with the momentum. Nothing broke thankfully, but it was still a beating all the same.

And Barnes was relentless in performing the order. He was beaten down to the floor with punches, and despite his ability, his skin blossomed with bruises. He spat one tooth to the floor, lips bloody and watching as someone dangerous and fearsome had inhabited the body of a man who had once been the only reason he had thought of living on. With each punch, he could plainly see how James Barnes had been stolen from him one small piece at a time.

In his shackles, he couldn’t even raise his hands to defend himself, couldn’t fight back. He instead was left curling into a ball as much as possible, his hands between his knees and his head tucked towards his chest. Still Barnes beat him, trying with every punch to break his bones.

Suddenly the loud blare of an alarm sounded. It might have distracted the three of them, but Barnes was unaffected.

“What is the meaning of this?” The Skull growled.

“There is no planned alarm testing,” Zola offered helpfully. He received more punches before the small Swiss scientist barked, “stand down, Sergeant Barnes.”

The other Commando immediately halted and backed off, coming to stand at Zola’s elbow like a well trained attack dog. It was only in uncurling that he noted the tears streaming silently down Barnes’ cheeks, though there was no change of expression. Instead there was something like pain and confusion in James’ eyes.

Falsworth rolled over a bit to locate the Skull who was over at a wall flipping through console camera feeds by the door. He slowly pushed himself to sit gingerly, shaky and wary as the alarm still sounded. He softened his skin and began to poke and prod at himself to locate sources of pain and there were many.

He cast his eyes over to Bucky who now seemed to be sagging forward. Zola was examining the arm, clearly thinking that this alarm had to be false. He stayed where he was, caught looking between the two parties and waiting for the verdict on whether or not he would be beaten even further.

It was he that noticed first when the Skull went rigid. He, in turn, lay on his side, pretending to be vastly more injured that he actually was, but the angle allowed him to continue watching. He might not know what was going on, but he knew it was enough of a fuss to cause the Skull anger.

“Doctor Zola,” Schmidt suddenly snapped. “Lock down the labs.”

Zola blinked rapidly, seemingly unaware of the danger. The Swiss scientist moved over to where the Skull was still moving through the closed circuit camera feeds, and he could tell the moment that Zola understood the seriousness of what was happening.

“What are you going to do?” Zola was looking in askance to the fuming Skull.

“I will be mobilizing Madame Hydra to stamp out this uprising,” Schmidt snarled. “And I will personally have to order the super soldiers. They can be too lax with their listening skills in the heat of combat.” The pair of HYDRA scientists exchanged a dark look. “Lock down your labs. Our work is too close to being perfected to risk it now.”

He could see Zola swallowing hard. The Swiss scientist was not in any way, shape or form someone who saw combat personally. However, Zola knew better than to refuse and nodded before looking back to Barnes who was now listing dangerously to the left, seemingly spent.

“What of them?”

Schmidt shot a heated glance back. “One of them is secured and the other can be. We will leave them here and move them once this… revolt is put down to ashes.”

“You want to leave them here,” Zola slowly clarified.

“Would you prefer to have to manage them as well as your task?” Schmidt gave them both an appraising look again, clearly untrusting of them but as yet, was not willing to risk the broader picture. Besides, Barnes had clearly shown the ability to be ordered. “We shall not be long in our tasks.”

Monty remained as he was, nursing his bruised flesh but keeping a weathered eye on the Skull and Zola as the pair began to make rounds of the room, collecting necessary items. Zola grabbed a German luger while the Skull produced a length of chain from the other side of the many consoles and experimental tables. Despite not risking turning over to keep the Skull in sight, he could hear Barnes being secured, chained to the same ring of metal welded to the floor as he was.

He had a single second of awareness that the Skull had approached him to realize he was under attack. The skin across his body hardened in time to stop the boot heel that had been about to crush his ankle, grunting in discomfort all the same.

“He could be useful,” Schmidt remarked to Zola. “You have my permission to make him one of ours like the Captain’s friend here.”

Zola bobbed a head, an oily smile appearing as the Swiss scientist looked down at him. He glared back, but it seemed that the order to lock down the labs took precedence over informing him of their future plans.

He found himself left behind with Bucky, which may or may not have been a punishment in and of itself. After all, the other Commando began to sniffle and sob softly as soon as the two HYDRA authorities left them alone, and it was the sound of a broken man. Despite his fear of what Barnes could and would do, he couldn’t fault Bucky for anything that happened here and before.

Instead, he pushed himself up gingerly and shifted to the chain that held him to the floor. It was curled around and locked to the other end of the collar that he was wearing. It was both heavy and seemingly impossible for him to break with his strength. In a way, aside from ascertaining that they were both trapped and held, Monty didn’t think there was any chance of escape.

No, they were stuck here until HYDRA released them. Instead, he slid over further and slipped an arm across Barnes’ trembling mismatched shoulders. “Hold it together, James. I won’t leave you, alright?”

“Don’t,” Bucky hiccupped at him. “There’s… something dark in me.”

“None of this is your fault,” Monty reminded softly. “It’s not you who killed those men.”

“It was my hands and that makes those actions my responsibility,” Bucky murmured brokenly. “It’s just… when I’m fresh off of whatever he gives me, it’s like I’m in the passenger seat of my own body, watching but unable to take back control no matter how much I struggle. It happens more and more now, like I’m chained down and trapped in my own flesh just watching what I’m doing and failing to stop it.”

Monty rubbed at Barnes’ back, shaking his head and feeling the bubble of anger of what was being done to a good man, an honourable man. Yes war made them all monsters in a way, but this brainwashing was doing more psychological damage in a short amount of time than he had ever seen in their months of service together. Perhaps his fear was compounded now by the fact that this same fate now awaited him with little more than a flippant order by the Skull.

“We’ll… find a way, James,” he replied softly, trying desperately to keep the doubt from his voice.

“You should kill me,” Barnes said softly. “Before I kill or hurt anyone else.”

“You know I won’t do that,” Monty said with a sigh. “Someday we’ll look back on all of this and laugh over pint. Just wait and see.”

Bucky leaned into him, lifting a hand to wipe at drying tears. There was silence other than the constant wail of the alarm and the occasional shift of metal chains on the cement floors. Huddled together as they were, he took some comfort in Barnes starting to quiet and relax again, even if that involved listing to the left with the weight of the arm.

A sudden thought crowded his mind, and he looked over at the sad broken man next to him. “James ol’ boy…”

Bucky took nearly half a minute to respond, turning lost blue eyes on him. He watched as Barnes’ eyebrows drew together in momentary confusion, as if trying to place his face with a name. It was a clear struggle that broke his heart. “…James?”

“That’s you,” he reminded kindly.

“And you,” Bucky replied.

Monty had to smile tiredly, ruffling the hair at the back of Barnes’ head. “It’s been a long time since you called me that. Hell, it’s been a long time since I called myself that.”

There was a tentative smile returned to him, and he patted the other Commando on the flesh shoulder before picking up the length of chain resting on the floor. “What are the chances you can break this chain?”

Bucky regarded it for a long moment, considering. “Probably about as high a chance as I might kill you doing it.”

Monty felt ice down his spine, but he pressed on. “And what of this ring bolted to the floor?”

The other Commando regarded it for a long moment, and he thought that he had lost Bucky again to whatever internal struggle was a constant companion to the man. Slowly, Barnes reached out and touched the thick ring, moving it back and forth on its hinge on the floor. A tug was given and then Barnes rose to stand, though the length of chain that the Skull had put on wasn’t nearly enough to allow Bucky to obtain his full height. No, the Commando was hunched over but tugged on the length of chain, moving it through the ring.

“I could try…”

“You could earn us freedom if you do,” Monty encouraged softly. He began to harden his skin in response, aware that this could involve metal and chain flying all over the place. “Try. If nothing else, boy-o, it will give us something to occupy the time.”

Barnes nodded, bringing that chrome metal hand around to grasp the chain. The other commando began to pull, and there was a grind of metal on metal but seemingly little if any progress. Barnes leaned down to grab the ring itself, wedging metal fingers into the limited space that was occupied by so much thick chain. Still, Bucky began to pull and pull and pull, face turning red with effort but the grind of metal was strong now, the squeal of bolts in the floor sounding just above the blare of the alarm.

Monty worried that Barnes would seriously injure himself in the effort, but there was something desperate about Bucky’s expression that stayed him from stopping the other Commando. How many minutes passed he had no idea, but eventually the scream of metal was so loud and then it abruptly ended when the hinge on the floor gave way.

Bucky went flying backwards, the chain still in the ring going with the other man and Monty was jerked with the momentum. They slammed into the floor, loops of heavy chain under and around them. It took them both a few moments to realize that they were free to move around the room. They were, however, locked together.

“If I open the ring with some tool, we can be separated,” Bucky murmured, so pleased with himself. Like this was the first good thing he had done in a long while.

“Never mind that,” Monty replied. “We can deal with that later. We need to get out of this room.”

“We can join the rebellion,” Bucky offered softly.

“The rebellion happening elsewhere is going to cover our get away,” he replied with a grin. “I doubt it will get this far, not with the Skull mobilizing the super soldiers.”

They rose together, letting their chains drag on the floor as they moved around looking for weapons and to look at the closed-circuit video feed of the facility. There was indeed a rebellion in the prisoner blocks, a swell of men overcoming the guards and moving in a mob. Once they figured out how to shift the feed to other cameras, they came to an empty room with many scientists and guards. The equipment chilled him and Monty knew in an instance that was once where Steve had been held.

“The mob is massive and seems to be pulling HYDRA guards from many areas. We should be able to get through the halls without much struggle and find a way out,” Monty said. They had no idea the layout of the facility and it wasn’t as if the Skull left a map just laying around.

As they continued to flip through the video images, Barnes grabbed his wrist tightly. “There. That’s where the mob is going.”

“How do you know? It’s just an empty storage space,” Monty said, not entirely wanting to risk running through the facility looking for a specific room. Any way out was one he would be willing to take.

“Rumlow is there,” Barnes whispered.

“What,” Falsworth barked. “No, we aren’t going there.”

“He’s the way out. Everyone is going to converge there. He will transport us…”

Monty growled low in his throat. “Maybe to the center of the sun,” he snapped. “I won’t trust him.”

Barnes looked around the room and then directly in his eye. There was a clarity in those blue eyes that had been absent for weeks. “We won’t have to. We bring the Tesseract and with it, we can control him. Isn’t that how his powers work?”

Monty shifted, not about to seriously consider the intricacies of Rumlow’s powers, but he had to admit that it was a good plan. The Tesseract itself might be able to open some portal for them to escape to, negating the need for the traitor at all. If everyone was actually converging there, it seemed that there might be a way to get them all the hell out of here.

“Right, we grab the Tesseract and go,” Falsworth finally agreed.

“Over this way,” Barnes replied and took him over to one of the massive machines that occupied the room. It had a ray gun attached to it, so many insulated wires and cables that he wondered how long ago it had been built and then rebuilt. No matter, Bucky was using metal fingers to pry open the compartment where the Tesseract was housed and blue light flooded the room.

Held in that metal hand, it seemed rather innocent. A cackle of energy across its surface assured him that it was still fully operational and they had better get the hell out of this room.

He picked up length of chain, hauling it with him as they walked to the door that led to the hallways and then Barnes shoved it open. The guard stationed there turned just in time to be clobbered with a length of chain and dropped to the ground unconscious. Without a single word, Barnes wrenched the guard’s head and snapped that neck with an audible crunch.

“James ol’ boy, that was unnecessary…”

“It’s us or them,” Barnes replied coldly, throwing the glowing rifle to him.

He sighed and said nothing more as he took the glowing rifle and left off with his chain. The reality of war was pressed upon him again as he removed the safety as the high whine of energy buzzed through the weapon.

“Follow the sounds of rebellion, James,” he murmured as they began to walk away from the Skull’s control room.

“Follow the sounds of freedom, James,” Barnes replied, still clutching the quiet Tesseract in that metal hand.

Monty had the impression that the Tesseract was going exactly where it wanted to and would neither help nor hinder them as they began to make progress. Instead, its only action was to suddenly and rather violently tug Barnes’ metal arm in one direction when they reached a hallway intersection. It became clear that their map was clutched in metal fingers so shiny and chrome.

Steve could barely keep his eyes open. He was exhausted to the point of unconsciousness, and it was only the hydra’s tentacles curled around his body that kept him from drowning in the filth that they were dragging themselves through. He clung desperately to the hydra in return, keeping his mouth as sealed shut as humanly possible.

He had no idea where they were or how close to their goal that they were. Above he could still hear the faint sound of an alarm but on more than one occasion, he heard the tell tale sounds of combat. Who or what was fighting he had no idea, but that sound meant that fewer HYDRA agents were looking for him.

Ahead, the massive pipe split into three others, one of three major intersections that they had come to. He reached up with a shaky hand to press on the hatch that allowed workers to perform maintenance on the system and was surprised to feel it shift.

“Here,” he murmured softly.

The hydra paused from carrying him forward, and together, they managed to lever the latch open. He pulled (more pushed from below) himself up and out, stilling at the sight of a bloodied body splayed next to the pipe. Above them, the floor grate had been pulled back and the bodies of dead HYDRA guards littered the ground. The smell of fresh blood couldn’t overcome the scent of the pipe contents that covered him.

He pulled himself up, dragging his body free of the sewage system and lay there panting. The hydra came up behind him and then simply lay on top of him, trying to ascertain the events. Far beyond, he could hear the sounds of guns firing and men yelling.

With great difficulty, Steve pushed the hydra away and then rose to his feet. They were in a major artery of the Austrian base, long hallways branching in four directions. He and the hydra began to totter after the rebelling group, stepping over corpses.

Not fifty feet ahead of them was a group of four men, three of which were tending the fourth. One saw them and rose, bring a HYDRA rifle to bear on them. The hydra immediately moved in front of him protectively.

“Stand down, soldier,” Steve ordered sharply. “We’re as much part of this rebellion as you are.”

“Where’d you come from?” English speaker at least. All four soldiers were watching them, but Steve knew he couldn’t stop walking or he might not urge himself forward again.

“The hydra labs.”

“Captain America?” It was the wounded man.

“That’s what I used to be called, but it’s just Captain Rogers now,” he replied, his voice quieting as his strength began to wane again.

“We were told you’d come,” the wound man said, waving the other three down from their posturing. “I never thought I’d see the day. Thank Christ.”

“You smell like a latrine,” another American said.

Steve managed a grin, ignoring the filth that covered him. “That’d be because I was just swimming in one to get here. Any of you boys care to come with us?”

“Gill isn’t stable enough to move.”

He and the hydra had come upon the group by now, and he could see that the wounded man named Gill had taken a bullet to the guts. It was likely a fatal wound given the circumstances. Steve wanted to feel sympathy, but he was so tired. It took everything that he was to keep on his feet right now. So, he gambled.

“If Gill isn’t moved, he’s going to die a prisoner. If you move him and come with me, he has a chance. Even if he dies, he can do so knowing he died a free man,” Steve said wearily.

“Help me up, boys. We need to go,” Gill said, still holding the gut wound.

And that was that. They began to travel slowly but surely together; no one even questioned the presence of the hydra or why it continually had to keep him on his feet when he stumbled frequently.

Dugan panted and wiped sweat from his brow, though in doing so, he also smeared fresh blood across his skin as well. The fighting had been fierce, but their group had been desperately vicious. They had managed to arrive at the massive storage room after overwhelming the guards outside, which had been a massive effort. The Skull had clearly shifted resources to the front entrance, but their numbers and their determination by that point had overwhelmed the HYDRA soldiers.

He knew that more soldiers would be on their way. Possibly even those massive vicious ones that he had heard tales about.

Jones has paused to mobilize a defense at the door as some of their number was still out in the hallways. They needed as many of their number as they could gather but also any supplies that they could get their hands on as none of them had started with anything but the clothes on their backs.

So he walked with a renewed vigor to his step as he approached his real mark, the glass tube where the human battery was housed. In his hands, he had a German luger in one and the keys to Rumlow’s freedom.

“Back to getting what you wanted, huh ‘Coon?” It was probably the first time in months that he had called Rumlow anything but traitor. He hoped there was enough bite to make it clear they weren’t friends still.

Rumlow didn’t seem affected. “More are coming.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to be let out right now?” Dugan grinned when he was actually glared at. That would be a no clearly.

He used the keys from the dead guards to fit the lock that held Rumlow’s prison closed, and it was with what felt like a long practice that he pushed the locks off and hauled open the glass casing to allow the first taste of real freedom in months. Like always, he reached in to help Rumlow out, the soft squish of muck not as bad as it usually was but the smell was everything he recalled from a few days prior.

Despite the shiver that this was about to go all wrong, Dugan produced the other key with the star end, the one made from the same material as the shackles that bound Rumlow’s wrists and neck. He moved around behind the former Commando, only to blink when Rumlow side-stepped him.

“No, not yet,” Rumlow said softly. “We wait for everyone to arrive first. The decision to do it goes to someone else.”

“Steve,” he asked carefully.

Rumlow nodded and began to totter on shaky legs over to the water trough, but the traitor only made it about halfway when a rifle discharging sounded in the room. He inhaled sharply when Rumlow was hit in the hip and spun to one side, and he was already on the move to cover the man. Shit, shit, shit! This was their way out!

“Stop, you assholes! We need him,” he shouted, stepping in front Rumlow’s downed body. The offending prisoners looked between each other but didn’t seem apologetic at all. “Why in the hell did you do that?”

“He’s the traitor,” one soldier said simply. “Everyone knows what he did. Being shot is the least of what he deserves.”

“Fair enough, but you can wait until I get you all out of here,” Rumlow said from behind him, slowly picking himself back up. Blood mingled with the filth that covered Rumlow’s legs, but if it was a fatal injury, he couldn’t tell.

Dugan glared at the soldiers – because that’s what they were again – and helped Rumlow over to the water trough. He noted that more of their numbers were streaming into the doorway, including two men he wasn’t certain that he would see again: Falsworth and Barnes. God, it was good to see those two men again, and it gave him hope that all the Commandoes could come together again.

Rumlow waved him away once stepping into the cycling water. “Go, I can wash myself.” He began to limp into the trough itself when the former Commando added, “and don’t let the wiseguy who shot me near Barnes.”

“Why not?”

“Barnes has the Tesseract, and She’s protective,” was all Rumlow said before splashing in the water to rinse off excrement, urine and now blood.

Dugan suspected that being protective meant something dangerous, so he nodded as he walked away and pointed at the three responsible in some way of shooting Rumlow. “I need you three over there to figure out which switches need to be pulled to get us the hell out of here.” He expected with something to do, they would be out of the way and out of trouble.

He instead approached the new arrivals, including Barnes and Falsworth who had stopped to speak with Jones. It was like a grand old reunion, and he couldn’t help but belt out a laugh when he was close enough range to realize how rag-tag they were, how much weight and fight they had lost and yet, coming together again felt as if this was another new beginning.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said, smiling so hard his face hurt. He shook hands with Falsworth and Barnes, though he paused at the impressive metal arm Bucky had. It looked uncomfortable and told of long-term abuses. “Did you guys run across Morita?”

“No, we didn’t come from the prisoner wings,” Falsworth said simply. The guy looked weighted down with more than the loops of chain that connected him with Barnes still. “But we brought the Tesseract.”

He and Jones looked curiously at the glowing blue cube. This was honestly the closest that they had ever been to it before, and for such a small object, it had caused quite the mountain of trouble. “Good thing since I think we need it to get out of here.”

“How does it work,” Jones asked curiously.

“It’s an energy source, so I expect that we need a device to tap into that and direct it,” Falsworth replied with a shrug.

Dugan glanced over towards the water trough where Rumlow was lounging. “Well, we have the source on to direct it and I imagine all the machines in here will tap into what the Tesseract has to offer. This is where HYDRA deployed a lot of their troops.”

“Is he going to help?” Barnes sounded far away but was looking over towards Rumlow.

“I suspect most of us getting to this point was because of him and Peggy,” Dugan said softly.

“Agent Carter is still alive,” Falsworth said with some shock.

“Oh yeah and still causing headaches to the Skull,” he replied proudly. “Though… by now, I expect she’s given birth.”

“What,” Jones barked before anyone else. “You didn’t tell me she was pregnant!”

Dugan shrugged helplessly. “We were a little rushed, and I figured once we found ourselves in a more secure environment that we could regale each other with tales, but yeah, the Skull got to her. She was pretty far along the last time I saw her.”

Everyone went quiet, which might have also been the reason that they could noticed the hushed silence from everyone else in the room. From the periphery of his vision, Timothy noticed that Rumlow suddenly shifted forward and then rose from the water. Then his head turned and he as well as the three others noticed why there were no more sounds of combat or talking.

Captain Steve Rogers walked into the room.

“Steve,” Barnes whispered almost reverently. There was something oddly cold about Bucky’s expression that didn’t match the tone.

Their Captain looked and smelled like shit, Dugan thought, recognizing the sort of filth that came from a latrine. He had seen and smelt it all too often on Rumlow, and yet, there was a palpable excitement that spread through the ranks as Steve walked deeper into the room, passing ranks of men from different countries and even managing a small smile for them all. It was easy enough to overlook the tentacle monster that slipped along in Steve’s wake.

“The gang is getting back together,” he said, catching Jones’ eye.

“What’s left of it,” the dark-skinned Commando murmured for his ears mostly. “Look at us, Dugan. We’re nothing more than shadows of our former glory, and we’re still waiting on Morita and Dernier too.”

“And Carter,” Falsworth interjected softly.

Steve saw them gathered as they were and walked with great effort over to them. Everyone but Barnes had a smile on their face at the sight of the blond. Steve reached out to clap each of them in turn on the shoulders as if to verify that they were real, that all of this was real. It was only in feeling how weak that grip was that Dugan understood that it had taken everything that Steve was to get to this point.

Yet, when Steve moved to clap Barnes on the shoulder, the other man suddenly seized the blond by the throat and lifted Rogers right off the ground. There was a deadness to Barnes’ expression that shocked him into momentary stillness.

Falsworth, however, was immediately at Barnes’ arm trying to force a release. “No, James, no! Fight it!”

Maybe none of them should be surprised, but it was Rumlow’s hand landing on Barnes’ metal shoulder and the blue energy that crackled up and down the metal plates which forced a release as Barnes gave a yell of pain and dropped to knees.

“Disregard that command, Sergeant Barnes. You’re absolved of that kill command,” Rumlow said forcefully and with a vigor he hadn’t personally seen since before the fall of the world. “Repeat my order.”

Barnes rocked forwards and backwards, still clutching the Tesseract in the left. “I’m absolved of the kill command, sir.”

“Now on your feet, Sergeant,” Rumlow ordered.

Bucky rose as if kneeling on hot coals. There was exhaustion in place of that cold deadliness, Barnes breathing harder than necessary. However, there was no other attempt to choke the life out of Steve either.

Dugan included, everyone was staring at Rumlow who looked the healthiest of them all. This was a reunion in the making, but at the same time, it was necessary to get them all out of here.

Rumlow was looking at Steve. “Where’s Carter?”

Steve looked momentarily baffled by the question. Then angry. Then exhausted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She and the baby were supposed to meet up with you,” Rumlow replied. “That was the plan.”

“We never saw her,” Steve murmured.

Dugan looked at Rumlow, saw a flicker of conflict there before it was gone and their gazes met. Everyone here knew what they had to do, even if the topic of Agent Carter had them wanting to delay that inevitability. They had to leave, had to get somewhere relatively safe.

Rumlow turned and walked away, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the man’s state of undress currently. Of course, Rumlow wasn’t the only mostly naked man wandering around; it also wasn’t reasonable to think anyone would give the traitor other than spit or another bullet.

Jones sighed and walked off as well to assemble the men, to pull them slowly from their posts to head towards what was expected to be the portal out of here. Falsworth urged Barnes towards the machinery with the Tesseract, leaving him with Steve and the hydra.

Dugan reached out to offer the key of Rumlow’s shackles to Steve. “I think he intended for you to have this.”

“What is it?”

“The weird metal bands on Rumlow’s wrists, ankles and neck require this key to be removed,” Timothy murmured as a way of explanation. “We think the metal hampers his powers and allows the Skull to keep a tighter control on how he directs them.”

Steve reached out and took the key from him, rubbing filthy fingers over the spiked end. “It means he can’t leave with them on.”

He shrugged. “Probably. If you wanted, we could leave him behind. Someone already shot him before you arrived.”

“We can’t leave him,” Steve remarked softly. “The Skull will use him to get to us.”

“Is that the only reason,” he asked quietly.

Steve exhaled hard, looking every bit as exhausted as the man probably felt. “I don’t know. Right now, we need to get these men out of here and once I’ve had some sleep, I’ll consider how best to deal with him.”

It was just like Steve to prioritize the lives of many over the disgruntled opinions of a few. They needed Rumlow to get out of here and so the traitor had to come with them in order to be kept out of the Skull’s hands. Rumlow’s presence would likely be a conflict in and of itself, but the greater good required that they all do something rather distasteful.

So, he helped Steve over to the machine that would allow them to open a portal large enough and sustained long enough for their group of a couple of hundred to make it through. Rumlow stood off to the side, leaning almost casually on the glass tubing where the traitor would have to be in order to make all of this happen.

He noticed that despite the men still streaming in, Morita was not in their number.

Many of the prisoners struggled to figure out how to make the portal generating machine work, though the slot for the Tesseract was thankfully obvious and easy to open. Falsworth and Barnes seemed united in finding the way to getting them all out of here.

Steve had flagged in strength and sat down among other men in similar states. The hydra lurked close and protectively and Rumlow continued to keep a distance from everyone.

He lingered in no particular group but kept a weathered eye on everyone as much as he could. He felt relief when there was a crackle of electricity and a low hum from the insulated wires and a sparking from the massive round framework that would create the portal. Several cheers of overjoyed men followed; no one had any idea where the portal would take them but it was better than here.

Dugan moved to round up the most exhausted men, herding them to the portal that sparked to life, small at first but growing quickly until it completely filled the portal space. They could see the moment that the portal stabilized as the energy seemed to smooth into something akin to liquid.

He herded the soldiers there, waving those covering the door to shut and lock it. Yet, he was waylaid as Steve rose and tottered over to where Rumlow was housed again, though the glass door was open despite the energy that circulated in it. He came to walk along beside Steve’s slow but purposeful pace, though he stopped to give an illusion of privacy if the two wanted to exchange some words. They didn’t, not with how Rumlow offered each limb one at a time for Steve to mechanically remove the restraints. The neck collar was the last to go and also the most tedious as Rumlow apparently couldn’t leave the tube while the portal was active.

Dugan knew he wasn’t the only one to notice the infected electrical burns that had been hidden by the shackles.

There wasn’t time to dwell on that as the doors to the room were forced open by a group of super soldiers. Ten of them burst in like hell hounds, growling and snarling even as they took stock of the distance as their ragtag group continued to shuffle through the portal. They grinned like fiends, most of them already spattered with blood and brains from slaughter in the hallways.

“You need to go,” Rumlow said softly.

That was all the push that he needed. Dugan grabbed Steve’s wrist and dragged the blond after him, and he had no doubt that it was the last bit of adrenaline that surged through them as they began to run for the portal. The hydra, which had stayed behind at the control panel, reared up and made clear its intentions to defend Steve to the death.

“Go, you fools! Through the portal!” Dugan waved an arm frantically, driving the last of their group to hurry through. He could feel the super soldiers closing on them rapidly, and Barnes and Falsworth opened fire while guarding the Tesseract.

The super soldiers could take bullets and still come on strong. What sort of monsters were they facing, Dugan thought as he dragged Steve who was flagging with energy.

He looked over his shoulder to gauge the distance and found in shock that there was less than ten feet between himself and a group of six super soldiers. He moved to shove Steve forward towards the hydra whom had closed the distance and caught the blond, dragging Steve away as he turned to face the oncoming threat.

A fine slice of blue light cut through the leading super soldier, and the legs continued forward even as the top half listed to the left. There was a moment pause to reassess the situation as Rumlow’s hand made another slicing gesture and the Tesseract made a high pitched screaming as the other four super soldiers moved to contain the traitor.

Energy blew from the console from the Tesseract’s housing, and it seemed to melt from the metal that housed it. The cube continued to shriek and blew out lighting, striking the supers soldiers that were a step away from taking him down in the chest, stopping their hearts dead. He could feel the crackle of energy along his skin from the close proximity, but he was already stumbling backwards to rush to the portal that was collapsing.

He saw Barnes seize the screaming Tesseract in metal fingers and the hydra hauled Steve through the portal without a thought for anyone else’s safety. Falsworth and Barnes pushed through next with the last group of soldiers who had run from the door.

Dugan knew he was the last, and he looked over his shoulder as he sprinted with the last of his energy for the collapsing portal, which seemed bound to wink out before he could arrive. He jumped, absently aware of how comical it must have looked.

Rumlow blinked into the fading pocket of energy and seemed to literally shoulder it open long enough for him to sail headlong into it. Energy closed around him, tearing him in what felt like a side-to-side motion, and yet he couldn’t tell up from down or right from left. This was the exact sensation from the last time he had been transported by Rumlow’s power.

Yet, unlike the last time, Timothy Dugan felt a rush of relief when he fell stomach first into thick dense grass. He skidded to a halt and the first thing he heard was the sobs of a man nearby. It was probably relief but it sounded pathetic.

He didn’t deny that he teared up as sounds of birds calling alarm to the suddenness of men and other calls of soldiers of various languages calling to each other. No matter how short-lived it might be, they were free.

They were free!

Peggy’s head snapped to the side with the force of the backhanded blow. A renewed wash of blood from her split lip coated her chin and dripped down her front. Her ears rang enough that she wasn’t able to make out the Skull’s infuriated snarl, but she had seen it often enough to be able to put sound to it.

She felt the heat of spittle on her blackening cheek as Schmidt screamed right in her face, “where is she?!”

Despite herself and the fact that she knew that she was going to die – or maybe because of it – Peggy offered a smug smile and then threw her head back and laughed. She laughed because it hurt, because it felt good to be able to do so, and also because she had done everything that she could to assure that Sinthea would be safe. Nothing else mattered.

Schmidt, beside himself in rage, grabbed her arm to tear her up to her feet again and then punched her in the shoulder, which sent her spinning backwards into the wall. Her clavicle broke with the blow and yet Peggy could only laugh so hard that tears streamed from her red-rimmed eyes. She laughed and laughed and laughed and Schmidt came on with murder in his eyes.

Suddenly the air between them blasted outwards with blue light, and Rumlow appeared to block the next blow meant for her. Only then did she stop laughing; this wasn’t part of any plan that they had managed to secret to each other.

Instead, she felt a stab of pure icy panic as she saw her small daughter hooting with laughter in the crook of Rumlow’s arm. She snarled at the betrayal, but before she could force herself up in motherly fury, Rumlow blew the Skull back with a dome of energy and then turned to sweep her up into his free arm.

“Hold on,” he ordered.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” she scolded coldly.

“Neither was you not meeting up with Steve,” Rumlow snapped back. “Now hold on.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, watching as Schmidt pulled out an odd puck of metal and threw it with deadly accuracy at Rumlow. Before it could land, they blinked from the Austrian Base and all Peggy could hear as she felt as if she were pulled in multiple directions was Sinthea’s squeal of joy, likely at the pretty blue colours.

To be so young again, she thought.

Margaret Carter smiled despite the well of pain from her face at doing so as she felt grass under her bare feet. The sound of crickets greeted her and there was a soft breeze that came with the smell of the ocean, warm sweet air that brought a tear to her eye. It was dark but there were also the sounds of men finding each other with calls.

She eased away from Rumlow carefully, hot pain in her face and across her left shoulder. She looked at Sinthea who seemed perfectly content with the hold, and it was one of many reasons she didn’t immediately take her daughter back.

“Well, that’s it then, is it?”

Rumlow shrugged non-committally. “For now.”

“You did well,” she said. She knew no one else would tell him so.

“Steve is waiting for you,” Rumlow said simply and passed off Sinthea to her right arm. Without another word, he walked away.

Peggy made no motion to stop him. She understood why he was leaving, but she also knew that he wouldn’t be too far away. The Tesseract wouldn’t let him.