The Story Book

Cont... James wheezed as years of dust and rubble exited his lungs. He shifted Natasha in his arms as he jogged silently back to the hidden truck outside of the Fort. Zola. His skin was still crawling with the sound of the nut job's voice. He had to keep it together now, for Natasha. If he had a panic attack now they'd both end up dead. SHIELD was on their tail and STRIKE took no prisoners. He slid Natasha into the back seat, found an ice pack for her head, and finally flipped into the driver’s seat. He slid the shield off his arm. It was scratched and marred with the weight of a bunker collapsing on them. But it still held through, just like its original wielder. James closed his eyes and for the first time in years thought back without any distraction or alternative thought process, to Steve. The shield was like he could reach out to his friend and summon some of his strength. Until he couldn't. James let out a broken breath that was like a croak because of

Cont... If James knew punching Nat would wipe that infuriating smirk off her face he would but it wouldn't so he focused on the road. "Where did the greatest generation man learn how to steal a car?" Natasha ask propping up her feet. "Nazi Germany." James said, remembering how Dum Dum had taught them in the heat of the battle how to hotwire any sort of vehicle, "And get your feet off the dash, we’re borrowing." Natasha gave him a look that could only be described as a 'yes dad' look and took them down. "Can I ask you a question? And you don't have to answer but if you don't I feel like you are..." Natasha rambled. James rolled his eyes, "Spit it out." Natasha wore a goody-two-shoes grin, "Was that your first kiss since 1943?" James sighed which came out more like a groan.  "You don't have to! I'm just curious how much practice you've had." Natasha said, still grinning

Cont... As it turned out answers were not to be James'. Fury had been serious when he'd said not to trust anyone and after being attacked by his own support team James had no trust left. He'd sadly dumped the Captain uniform since he was sure it was tracking. He'd almost dumped the shield but he couldn't bear to leave it. If he held it tightly and closed his eyes it was almost like his friend was there fighting with him. So he'd dumped it in water and prayed it would fry any tracking device and had hidden it before going back to the hospital. He'd been able to scrounge up money from his pockets for some civilian clothing so that he didn't look odd. Head down away from video cameras, it was only a matter of time until the whole government was man hunting him. He was good, just not that good. He came to a stop in front of the vending machine and his stomach dropped. The bubblegum was empty. Before the panic could set in a loud pop sounded

Cont... Fury was dead. James still couldn't quite believe it as he watched the Black Widow say goodbye. He'd never seen Natasha like this. She'd been hit hard with this death in a way uncharacteristic of the assassin. Maria Hill came forward and quietly choked back tears. She and Fury had been close and this was not easy. "They need to take the body," Hill said softly, not wanting to disturb Natasha. James nodded stepping forward, "Natasha." She didn't respond; instead, she reached up and rested her hand on Fury's head before spinning on heel and strolling out her steel facade back up.  "Natasha!" James stepped out after her. "Why was Fury in your apartment?" Natasha snapped flipping around to face him. James shrugged, "I don't know." The spy regarded him a moment.  "Serg!" Rumlow called.  James turned to the head of the STRIKE team. "Headquarters wants us back ASAP." Ru