Traceur

•20•

3rd Person POV.
Nicholas Fury silently strode up to a graveyard, decked in dark clothes and a pair of sunglasses, although the sky wasn't bright enough for them to be a necessity.

"So, you've experienced this sort of thing before?" He asked, directing his question to Steven Rogers. The man in question was at the edge of the graveyard himself, staring down at the one gravestone that lead him, Samuel Wilson, and Fury over to the burial plot in the first place.

"You get used to it," was all Rogers had to say, eyeing the epitaph on the gravestone. 'The path of a righteous man. Ezekiel 25:17'

"We've been data-mining HYDRA's files. Looks like a lot of rats didn't go down with the ship," Fury grunted. "I'm heading to Europe tonight, wanted to ask if you'd come."

Rogers shifted. "There's something I gotta do first," he apologized, and Fury turned to third man in their gathering.

"How about you, Wilson? Could use a man with your abilities."

"I'm more of a soldier than a spy," the man stated, and Fury resigned, shaking the men's hands.

"Alright then."

Fury turned around to leave, but glanced over his shoulder one last time. 

"Anyone asks for me," he begins, "tell them they can find me right here."  He sends a look to his own gravestone, and then strides off into the gloomy day.

"You should be honored," a woman's voice floated towards them, and the owner of the voice strode towards the duo. "That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you."

"Not going with him?" Rogers questioned Natasha Romanoff, and the woman gave a small laugh.

"No."

"Not staying here?"

"I blew all my covers," she explained. "I gotta go figure out a new one."

"That might take awhile," the blond man commented, and the redhead nodded.

"I'm counting on it. Those things you asked for? I called in a few favors from Kiev."

She handed him two files. Two very important files. One was labeled 'дело No. 17' - file number seventeen- and the other was labeled similarly, but it was number 04.

"Will you do me a favor?" Romanoff asked. "Call that nurse."

"She's not a nurse." Was Rogers response.

"And you're not a SHIELD agent."

"...what was her name again?"

"Sharon. She's nice," Romanoff affirmed, leaning in to kiss Rogers' cheek for a goodbye. She turned, and started walking away.

"Be careful, Steve," she warned over her shoulder, "you might not want to pull that thread."

She left, and Rogers was left in the presence of the one man he knew would never leave him. Without hesitating, he flipped open the first file- No. 17. Inside was information about James Buchanan Barnes and his Winter Soldier transformation. A picture slipped out; Barnes, but in a cryogenic freezer, his face blank as he slept for god-knows-how-long.

Rogers opened the second file, and nearly dropped it when the information inside was revealed. Just translating a section of the file brought him emotions he hadn't felt in bit. Longing, loss, shock, surprise; all emotions he'd felt throughout the week, but not many of them to this extent.

'Subject 04; the creation. Subject 04 was brought to life using Zola's science and a mixture of genes stolen from Steven Rogers and Natalia Romanova.'

That's all Rogers needed to read for the moment. He snapped the files shut, and looked over at Wilson, who'd ambled over to join him.

"You're going after them?"

"You don't have to come with me."

"I know, but...Levi was my patient. She ever tell you that? I doubt it. She joined us in coinciding a few weeks before the betrayal. She's like my sister. So...when do we start?"