Ｒｅｔｒｏｕｖａｉｌｌｅｓ

。❶②

Quick and quietly the figure ascends the staircase. Their strides are long and movements deft as they make their way to the flight's top. Counting by the numbers they pace down the corridor, reaching the far end, locating the last room on the right. They knock with the assumption that the man inside is sleeping, probably snoring softly too.

When no one answers the lock is released by its proper key. No picking necessary.

Unable to locate a light switch or having no apparent need for one the intruder walks on in, their stalwart silhouette casting an prodigious shadow that blends with the walls that are painted black by night.

They survey the area, rummaging through the only pile found that is a mass of pillows and an afghan bundled up on the couch. They thought maybe he'd built a fort. Shaking their head at the otherwise organised space of the place the person moves on.

The individual happens across a door left ajar, soft snores emanating from the crack just as they indeed thought. Pressing the gap wider the phantom enters, creeping over to where soundly rests the captain.

But the astute senses of a super soldier are not to be underestimated.

A hand hasn't even brushed his pants before Steve rips off the sheets and tackles them to the ground. He lands a jab at their stomach as to temporarily immobilise them so can grab hold of their throat.

The attempted pleads come out muffled. "St-p! St- St-ve!"

Weakened by the jolt of a strong left arm the captain's grip loosens but in those precious few seconds the words "Steve stop its me!" reach his ears with clarity. Smacked with recognition Rogers lets go, pulling back at the grey hoodie that clothes his former opponent which reads 'Winter is coming'.

"Bucky?"

The many questions of relevancy will have to wait for at the moment America is distracted by an accursed fandom logo. He takes a second look at the decal printed on his pal's chosen jumper. An ever so slight spark of satire begins to twinkle in his iris.

"If you are going for inconspicuous though not to mention incognito near miss." James appears uninterested in discussing the matter but Rogers presses further. "Where'd you get it?" he asks.

Barnes shrugs. "Some list by Craig." Leaving it at that he cards a hand through his disheveled mop. Bucky is clearly stuck on a serious treble. "I have something to tell you Steve." he confesses.

"What is it?"

The ex soviet grants himself a deep breath before presenting the news. "Sharon is dead."

➖➖➖➖➖

The image of a good man – a composed commander is gone. Rampant emotion rule him now and the insatiable desire for revenge ravages his soul like the plague. His internal moral compass is spinning lost and confused, no longer pointing to the upright north star. He is weary with following that righteous path and near finished.

He's (in term) at what we call 'his wits end'.

Steve is riddled with pain. He writhes in it. And there's no liquor, no drug strong nor powerful enough to drown out his sorrow.

It is hours before he loses both his will and stamina, falling to his knees to the floor in ragged, broken sobs that wrack his body. The man is collected into the arms and care of his mate. All the Indiana man can offer is his condolences; "I'm sorry Steve."

"Who... was it?" he seethes.

"Stev-"

"Who!"

Barnes hesitates, the reply giving rise to his own demons. "The flame."

"The flame..." Rogers recites. He moves his weight off Buck, holding his own on exerted muscles. "We need to see that picture."

They are miles away from headquarters yes, but it's nothing too long an immediate and determined drive to upstate New York can't fix. Meanwhile dissing the dreary circumstances Barnes makes a point of picking up a reuben for the road.

Upon their arrival the remains of EMH (earth's mightiest heroes) part like the Red Sea. The 'accorded' avengers make a point to stay out of the captain's way. Both sides are aware of what has happened. The situation cannot be undone.

Pushing aside his feelings – putting his reactive state on hold, Steve takes up the deceased woman's laptop and types in her passcode. (Of course she entrusted it to him). Bringing up the file he retreats a step as the photo claims the screen and Bucky gets the first look.

Whatever became of the rogue that night they sure as hell never ensured that their mission was closed – files erased, for James nods with certainty. "That's them." he concludes. "That's her."

When Steve takes his turn for a glance he becomes stuck staring, eyes hazed by a glaze of stinging glass and head shaking bitterly in denial. "No... it can't be..."