Don't Dream It's Over

There is freedom within, there is freedom without
Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup
There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost
But you'll never see the end of the road
While you're traveling with me

--"Don't Dream It's Over", Crowded House

After the meeting with Pierce, after the elevator, after the goddamned quinjet, Steve goes back to the hospital. The drive’s gone.

He has a moment of panic before a familiar voice says, “Looking for this?”

Natasha’s standing behind him, holding the drive. He’s never been so glad to see her.

“Natasha. How did you—?”

Her expression goes inscrutable. “Not here.”

“Okay,” he agrees, and pushes open the door to one of the examining rooms. “Here, then.”

She follows him inside, looking wary, and waits while he locks the door.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

He runs a hand through his sweat-spiked hair, wishing he had any idea how to answer that. “Great question,” he says, a little hysterically. “So glad you asked. Got any others?”

“Steve.”

“Okay, yeah.” He takes a breath, trying to calm himself. He’s quivering with adrenaline and… shock, maybe. Something like that. A metal-armed assassin attacked his apartment, Nick Fury’s dead, and SHIELD is hunting him. It’s been a long day, and it’s not even halfway over.

“Okay,” he says again. “I don’t—I haven’t figured out much. SHIELD’s definitely compromised. I don’t—I don’t know how bad. Alexander Pierce is involved. Other agents too, definitely the Strike Team, I don’t know who all for sure. They might be HYDRA, might be something else.” He meets her eyes. “I have literally no idea how far the corruption runs. Nick said not to trust anybody.”

She frowns. “So why are you trusting me?”

It takes Steve a minute to realize what she’s saying; he’d laugh if he wasn’t so strung out. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Natasha just looks at him. Steve takes another deep breath. Then another. It’s not as helpful as he’d like it to be.

“Natasha. I trust you, okay? There’s no one else I’d rather have on my six. But we gotta figure this out, fast. They’re after me, and if they realize you’re with me, they’ll come after you, too.”

“I didn’t say I was coming with you,” she points out.

“You didn’t say water was wet, either. I just assumed.”

The corner of her mouth twitches upward. “You probably assumed right.”

“Uh huh,” he says, a bit snarkily, because he knows Natasha has a thing about people trusting her, but now is not the time. “So what we need to do is contact Peggy, let her know what’s going on, and then figure out whatever the hell is on this drive that’s so important. Oh, and not get killed.”

“Or captured.”

“Or captured.”

Her eyes glint. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Well,” he says, unable, in spite of everything, or perhaps because of everything, to keep a smirk off his face, “I am the Man with a Plan.”

Natasha groans and punches him, and they head out.

 ***

When the commotion starts, Peggy’s first thought is, What the hell has Steve done now? Because, let’s face it, there are only two people who could cause that much ruckus here, and one of them is currently in a hospital in Los Angeles. Sure enough, within minutes there’s a red alert, and strike teams running all over the place, and it takes all her strength and training to walk calmly to the main briefing room, where other agents are gathered.

As Sitwell gives orders to surveil every piece of technology they have access to in order to find Captain America, Peggy risks sending Natasha a text.

how’s charlie?

I thought you had him last? Natasha answers, and Peggy feels her stomach clench.

Do not panic, she tells herself. They haven’t caught him yet. Though heaven only knows why he’s suddenly decided to go rogue.

keep an eye out, she texts. he’s slipped his lead, don’t know where he’ll run off to.

don’t worry, says Natasha. I know where he buried a bone.

Well, that’s a relief, anyway. If Steve is doing something reckless—and, since it’s Steve, he almost definitely is—at least he’ll have backup. Peggy represses a sigh, and returns her phone to her pocket.

“I think we have a right to know why we’re pursuing Captain America,” says Sharon Carter, one of the younger agents. Peggy knows she’s been assigned to tail Steve more than once. The fact that they share a last name was enough to interest her in the other woman, and she’s come to like her in the past couple of years. Sharon has a clear head, and isn’t afraid to do her own thinking—traits which Peggy values. The SHIELD higher-ups… not so much.

“Captain America has information about Director Fury’s death,” says a new voice, and Peggy looks up to see Alexander Pierce coming through the door. Bollocks. This is even bigger than she thought. “Information which he refuses to share. As much as I hate to say it, Captain America is now a fugitive from SHIELD.”

Ouch. Sharon doesn’t say anything else, but the mulish look on her face makes Peggy think she’s not convinced. Once… whatever this is… is over, she’ll have to talk to that girl about her poker face.

Peggy herself says nothing, just gets to work looking through traffic cam footage. According to SHIELD’s files, she’s a data analyst— only a few people know her more classified role in the organization, and she’d like to keep it that way. On the other hand, several of those people are now spearheading the hunt for Captain America, so… it’s possible her cover won’t do any good in this situation, anyway. The best she can do is fill her role as SHIELD’s loyal little agent, and hope she can get enough information to figure out what the hell is going on before it’s too late.

There’s video of his motorcycle heading down Florida Avenue, and she casually deletes it before anyone can see. It’s not much, but just now, it’s all she can do.

She doesn’t jump when her phone buzzes, nor does she take it out of her pocket. Instead, she waits about ten minutes, then heads to the loo. Only when she’s in the privacy of one of the stalls does she check her messages.

The text is from Natasha.

found charlie , it reads.

Peggy sighs in relief.

thought he might have got in a spot of bother with animal control, she responds.

he has. But i got him a new collar, so we’re alright for now.

Anything i can do?

There’s a long pause. She can almost hear Natasha considering how best to get the relevant information across, without giving too much away.

It’s bigger than we thought, she says at last. Stiff upper lip, my dear.

Which is their code for “Watch your back”. Something is wrong, very wrong. Peggy just hopes they’ll survive it.

 ***

Natasha finds coordinates on the drive, and they head out of the Internet café just in time to see agents converging on them from several directions.

“Walk slow,” says Natasha. “Act casual. They haven’t seen us yet.”

Steve slings his arm around her, like he would have with Becky, and lets his stride become more of a saunter. “Okay?”

“Lean down, act like you’re whispering to me.”

He does, making sure the bill of his baseball cap covers her face as well as his. She helps the illusion by turning into him, hair swinging in front of her face.

Isn’t the red hair kind of a giveaway? he wonders, and then realizes: he’s the one they’re looking for, not her. There’s a very good possibility that no one is even aware that Natasha’s gone.

They stand on the escalator, going up while a group of agents come down. Natasha gives him a mischievous grin, stepping in close so they’re nearly touching.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

It’s something she and Peggy have mentioned before, ways to hide in plain sight. People see what they expect to see, Peggy said a few months back, as they relaxed in her living room. The ones who think they know what they’re looking for are the easiest to fool.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, lowering his head, “they do,” and presses his lips to hers. Natasha’s arms tighten around his neck, and then they’re at the top, and they walk away, arms around each other. Nobody looks at them twice. Nobody notices them at all.

“So, Peggy’s not gonna kill me for that, right?” he asks as they exit the mall, and Natasha grins.

“Depends on what I tell her.”

 ***

“This is such shitty timing,” Steve grumbles as they drive toward New Jersey in the rusty pickup they’d liberated from the mall parking lot. “Thor’s not due back to Earth for another month, Tony’s getting heart surgery, Bruce is—where is Bruce, again?”

“Tibet,” says Natasha, tapping away at her phone. “That meditation thing.”

Steve grimaces. “Right. No phones.”

“No phones, and he’ll be there for another nine days.”

He sighs. “Well, maybe he can break us out of prison if this all goes south.”

“If we’re not dead by then.”

“See, that’s what I like about you, Nat. Always such an optimist.”

“Well, someone’s gotta rein in you reckless hero-types.”

“True.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “What about Clint? Where’s he at?”

“New York.” She frowns down at her phone for a long moment. “Let’s see if Peggy can get in touch with him. I don’t have his latest burner number right now, and I’m sure as hell not contacting him on his SHIELD phone.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.” She props her feet up on the dashboard. “So, where did you learn to hotwire cars?”

He switches lanes, keeping an eye on the red car that’s been behind them for the last couple miles. He doesn’t think it’s following them, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. “Afghanistan. Don’t get mud on the dashboard, I’m planning on returning this thing.”

She removes her boots, casting him an amused look. “You’re such a Boy Scout, Rogers.”

They flash past an exit, and the red car pulls off. A little tension eases in his shoulders. “Oh, come on, Nat, there’s no need to be insulting.”

“That's right, I forgot about your little feud.”

“Hey, they asked me to speak at their national meeting thing, I spoke. It’s not my fault they’re a bunch of homophobes.”

“Of course not,” she says drily. “Although I’m pretty sure they banned you because you got into a shouting match with Tillerson, not because of the speech.”

He shrugs. “He was being an asshole. It’s not like I like giving speeches anyway.”

“I don’t know, you seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

He can’t help a grin at that. “Well, they changed their policy last year. So I guess I win, huh?”

Natasha thumps her head back against the headrest. “You’re impossible, you know that? It’s a wonder you didn’t end up on the lam before now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He accelerates around a tractor trailer, watching it recede in the rearview mirror.

“The Winter Soldier,” he says eventually. “I know you said there’s not a lot of… information out there…”

“There’s none,” she corrects. “Most of the agents I’ve talked to think she’s a ghost story.”

“But you fought her.”

“I got shot,” says Natasha, and he can hear the edge in her voice, the underlying irritation at being bested at her own game. “There wasn’t a fight—there was no contest. If she’d wanted to kill me, she would’ve. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Steve purses his lips, thinking of the figure on the rooftop, of his shield hurled back at him with nearly unbelievable speed and precision. That, above all else, is what throws him—that someone who’s never trained with the thing could use it with such accuracy. It’s not as easy as it looks; it took the other Avengers months of training just to be able to throw it back to him. The Winter Soldier had made it look effortless. 

“Could you tell me again?” he asks. “Everything you can remember, all the details you can think of. I need—I need information. All I can get.”

She cocks her head. “You think we’ll run into her again?”

Steve glances over at her, meets her eyes for the briefest of moments. “Nat… I know we will.”