Winter's War || The Winter Soldier

Chapter Eleven: Ambushed

Music is "Until We Go Down" by Ruelle.

Picture is Tatiana Maslany as Emma Barnes.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: Ambush

The wait for the lift on the top floor seems to go on forever. Steve stands a meter away, looking out over the early morning Washington skyline with his arms crossed over his chest. I stare at the lift doors, waiting for them to open.

I'm not really sure where to go from here. Our leads are dead. SHIELD doesn't trust us. Fury told us not to trust them. Natasha's who knows where. We have fatalities, and it's not even six in the morning yet. I haven't slept for almost a full twenty-four hours. Steve's probably gone longer.

"Where do we go now?" I ask, not sure if I want an answer or not.

Steve sighs, giving the glass in front of him the thousand yard stare of a soldier. "I don't know. I guess...I guess we get to Operations and see where they are."

I nod, and the lift doors open. We step inside, wordless. Steve leans against the handrail, eyes not meeting mine. "Operations Control," he tells the computer.

The SHIELD computer responds with a monotone, "Confirmed."

Before the doors can fully close, Rumlow sticks his hand in, catching it. He enters with a couple other men, telling them, "Keep all STRIKE personnel on site."

His orders are accompanied with a, "Understood" and, "Yes, sir."

Rumlow gives me a far-off expression as he tells the SHIELD computer, "Forensics." He turns to Steve. "Cap."

Steve pulls himself from his thoughts, turning around to face Rumlow. "Rumlow."

The lift starts to descend, and I lean back against the glass. Rumlow nods to me soon after. "How're you holding up?" he asks.

I nod, trying more to convince myself of my okay-ness than him. "I'm managing."

"Evidence Response found some fibers on the roof they want us to see," he states to both Steve and I. "You want me to get the tac team ready?"

"No, let's wait and see what it is first."

"Right."

As Rumlow turns away, I see Steve's gaze shift from the commander of STRIKE to one of the other two men that entered the lift with him. He's turned away from us, keeping his eyes anywhere else, but his hand hovers over his gun on his thigh holster. His hand remains there, almost instinctual before a fight. His face is calm, but he moves around as if nervous. It never ceases to amaze me how much people don't realize they give away when they're scared.

The lift stops, and more people get on-board. These men wear suits and carry briefcases, clearly bureaucratic. One of them tells the computer to take them to the Administrations Level. The SHIELD computer confirms the order, and the packed glass box starts to descend once again. I move from my place along the wall, standing closer to Steve.

"I'm sorry about what happened with Fury and Grant," Rumlow says over his shoulder to Steve and I. "It's messed up, what happened to them."

Steve thanks him, but his facial expressions show none of that. He turns to glance at me from the corner of his eye, and I catch a look I've seen many times before. It's a look we've shared on the battlefield in Europe during World War II as well as on missions with SHIELD. It's a form of non-verbal communication that we've perfected over our years of service with each other. Some situations call for non-verbal communications. This is one of those situations.