AMERICA'S POV

Steve and I watch helplessly as the doctors try to save Fury. He puts an arm around my shoulders, face unreadable. Footsteps smatter the floor behind us, causing us both to jump, but it's only Natasha. She stands next to Steve and sighs.

"Is he gonna make it?"

"I don't know," Steve answers.

"Tell me about the shooter," she says to me. I rack my brains for everything I can remember.

"He's fast and strong." I point to the gash on my cheek, which has already started to bruise. "And he has a metal arm."

"Ballistics?" Natasha asks as Maria Hill joins us.

"Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable."

"Soviet made." I recognized his weapon in the roof.

Out of nowhere, Fury's vitals start to deteriorate. The doctors and nurses start yelling to each other, but none of it really registers in my mind. I'm just staring and praying and worrying and making no real sense.

"Don't do this to me, Nick," Natasha keeps mumbling under her breath. They shock him multiple times, but it's no use. I turn away as they announce 1:03, the time of Nick Fury's death.

As far back as I can remember, I've never been around for the aftermath of death. For years, I killed and ran. Now, I watched a man die, and I finally understand why people don't leave. You can't.

Silent tears stream down Natasha's face as she looks at Fury's body. Steve just stares at the floor, deep in thought. One of his hands is in his pocket, probably fingering the flash drive. And I'm just here, feeling out of place, because I still don't think after all of this time and everything that just happened, Fury still didn't trust me. But maybe he did. He didn't hide his messages from me, after all.

Finally, Hill clears her throat. "I need to take him."

Steve stands and goes to check on Natasha. "Natasha." She doesn't say anything, just runs out of the room. "Natasha!" He instantly goes after her, and with one last glance at Fury's body, I follow.

Nat doesn't turn to look at us, just asks, "what was Fury doing in your apartment?"

"I don't know," Steve answers. He's lucky she isn't looking, because my eyebrows shoot up, but then I remember Fury's dying words: don't trust anyone. If SHIELD really is compromised, we have to be careful with everyone. Including our friends.

A man walks in. Rumlow. A SHIELD agent, I think. "Captain, Evans, they want you back at SHIELD."

"Yeah, give us a second."

"They want you now."

"Okay." This irritates Steve, I can tell. He's not a fan of being told what to do. He turns to Natasha to say something else, but she cuts over him.

"You're a terrible liar," she says before walking off.

"STRIKE team, escort Captain Rogers and Miss Evans back to SHIELD immediately for questioning."

"I told him," Rumlow says, annoyed.

"Let's go," Steve says.

"Yeah," Rumlow replies. "STRIKE, move it out."

————

Back at SHIELD, Rumlow leads us down a hallway. I've walked through SHIELD headquarters before, but with the knowledge I have now, it's eerie. I keep looking for suspicious figures and hidden weapons, and I know Steve is doing the same.

"All right. SHIELD wants to question you two, as you were the only two witnesses to Nick's death. Captain, you'll be in this room with Secretary Pierce, and Miss Evans will come with me." Steve and I exchange uneasy glances.

"We saw the same thing, Rumlow," Steve says slowly. "Shouldn't we be questioned together?"

"No. This is all just procedural, of course. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"With all due respect sir, I don't think you need to do that."

"Your opinion doesn't matter in this situation, Captain."

I hold back a groan. "Fine." We need to play the game right now. Steve frowns, but nods. I follow Rumlow into an office room. He motions to a chair, but I ignore it and go to stand by the window. I can't make a quick move while sitting down.

"How did you know Director Fury?" He asks.

"I worked for him."

"Would you say you were close?"

"Not particularly."

"When did you meet him?"

"Shortly after the battle of New York."

"Did he trust you?"

"I'd like to think so, sir." My short, vague answers are getting to him. His fist clenched behind his back.

"This will go much smoother if you cooperate, Evans," he finally says.

"Nothing I've said is a lie." Not yet.

"Why was he in Captain Rogers' apartment?"

"I don't know." First lie. I was taught how to lie properly. My tells are hidden from his sight.

"Are you sure? You don't want to change that answer?"

I meet his eyes with a steel gaze. "Rumlow, I've had enough lies for a lifetime."

This makes him uncomfortable. He tries one more time. "What did he say to you."

"He told me not to trust anyone."

Dead silence.

"I think I'll be going right now. If you'd like to talk again, don't call me. Out of the two of us, Steve is definitely the more personable one." I leave without him excusing me. Instead of wasting time on the elevator, I take the stairs and end up outside within seconds. Then I call Steve. "Hey? We need to get out of here. Something feels wrong about all of this. I think they're watching me. Are you still in with Pierce?"

"Not exactly, no." I can hear faint pounding from his side of the conversation, and then a yell.

"Give it up, Rogers! Get that door open! You have nowhere to go!" My eyes widen.

"Steve, what are you doing up there? Or hold on, let me rephrase: what are you going to do?"

"Something stupid. Here, you see the glass elevator? I'll be outside in a minute. Meet me there." I run over to it, squinting because of the glare.

"Steve-?" My question is answered as I see a figure break through the glass and plummet from the high floors of the building. He lands on the shield right in front of me. I brush a few pieces of glass off of his shoulders.

"Let's go," He says. We run at his speed. "We need the motorcycle!"

"You just jumped out of a building!" I screech as people yell at us.

"And you were just running on top of one! Just accept that it's going to be a weird day!"

Steve mounts the cycle, and I instantly slide on the back. I'm barely on before Steve starts it up. We barely make it through the closing hangar and each obstacle put in our way is a closer call. And they literally bring in a Quinjet.

"Captain Rogers, stand down!" A pilot screams. I duck as they start firing. Steve throws his shield into the propellers, effectively messing up the engine.

"Be right back. Don't crash."

"Steve-" He jumps up onto the jet and starts essentially breaking it apart with the shield. I just somehow keep the motorcycle going until Steve lands behind me. "We're going to have a serious talk about your decision-making skills later, but where are we headed now?"

"The hospital. Go."

New chapter! Ugh I love the two of them as a crime-fighting duo.